'Whither art thou departed, cruel lover, Who stole the half of thy beloved's cloth, And left her to awaken and discover The wrong thou wroughtest to the love of both? She, as thou didst command, a sad watch keepeth, With woful heart wearing the rended dress. Prince, hear her cry who thus forever weepeth; Be mindful, hero; comfort her distress!'

What was it thou didst utter, hearing this? Some gentle speech! Say it again—the Queen, My peerless mistress, fain would know from me. Nay, on thy faith, when thou didst hear that man, What was it thou replied? She would know." (Descendant of the Kurus!) Nala's heart, While so the maid spoke, well-nigh burst with grief, And from his eyes fast flowed the rolling tears; But, mastering his anguish, holding down The passion of his pain, with voice which strove To speak through sobs, the Prince repeated this:—

"Even against the ruined, rash, ungrateful, Faithless, fond Prince, from whom the birds did steal His only cloth, whom now a penance fateful Dooms to sad days, that dark-eyed will not feel Anger; for if she saw him she should see A man consumed with grief and loss and shame; Ill or well lodged, ever in misery, Her unthroned lord, a slave without a name."

Speaking these verses, woful Nala moaned, And, overcome by thought, restrained no more His trickling tears; fast broke they forth (O King!). But Keshini, returning, told his words To Damayanti, and the grief of him. When Damayanti heard, sore-troubled still, Yet in her heart supposing him her Prince, Again she spake: "Go, Kashini, and watch Whatever this man doeth; near him stand, Holding thy peace, and mark the ways of him And all his acts, going and coming; note If aught there be of strange in any deed. Let them not give him fire, my girl—not though This hindereth sore; nor water, though he ask Even with beseeching. Afterwards observe, And bring me what befalls, and every sign Of earthly or unearthly power he shows; And whatsoever else Vahuka doth, See it, and say." Thereon Keshini sped, Obeying Damayanti and—at hand— Whatever by that horse-tamer was wrought, The damsel watched, and all his ways; and came Back to the Princess, unto whom she told Each thing Vahuka did, as it befell, And what the signs were, and the wondrous works Of earthly and unearthly gifts in him. "Subhe!"[27] quoth she, "the man is magical, But high and holy mannered; never yet Saw I another such, nor heard of him. Passing the low door of the inner court, Where one must stoop, he did not bow his head, But as he came the lintel lifted up And gave him space. Bhima the King had sent Many and diverse meats for Rituparna, Of beast and bird and fish—great store of food— The which to cleanse some chatties stood hard by, All empty; yet he did but look on them, Wishful, and lo! the water brimmed the pots. Then, having washed the meats, he hastened forth In quest of fire, and, holding towards the sun A knot of withered grass, the bright flame blazed Instant amidst it. Wonderstruck was I This miracle to see, and hither ran With other strangest marvels to impart:— For, Princess, when he touched the blazing grass He was not burned, and water flows for him At will, or ceases flowing; and this, too, The strangest thing of all, did I behold— He took some faded leaves and flowers up, And idly handled them; but while his hands Toyed with them, lo! they blossomed forth again With lovelier life than ever, and fresh scent, Straight on their stalks. These marvels have I seen, And fly back now to tell thee, mistress dear!" But when she knew such wonders of the man, More certainly she deemed those acts and gifts Betokened Nala; and so-minded, full Of trust to find her lord in Vahuka, With happier tears and softening voice she said To Keshini: "Speed yet again, my girl; And, while he wots not, from the kitchen take Meat he hath dressed, and bring it here to me." So went the maid, and, waiting secretly, Broke from the mess a morsel, hot and spiced, And, bearing it with faithful swiftness, gave To Damayanti. She (O Kuru King!)— That knew so well the dishes dressed by him— Touched, tasted it, and, laughing—weeping—cried, Beside herself with joy: "Yes, yes; 'tis he! That charioteer is Nala!" then, a-pant, Even while she washed her mouth, she bade the maid Go with the children twain to Vahuka; Who, when he saw his little Indrasen And Indrasena, started up, and ran, And caught, and folded them upon his breast; Holding them there, his darlings, each as fair As children of the gods. Then, quite undone With love and yearning, loudly sobbed the Prince. Until, perceiving Keshini, who watched, Shamed to be known, he set his children down, And said: "In sooth, good friend, this lovely pair So like mine own are, that at seeing them I am surprised into these foolish tears. Thou comest here too often; men will think Thee light, or me; remember, we are here, Strangers and guests, girl! Go thy ways in peace!" But seeing that great trouble of his soul, Lightly came Keshini, and pictured all To Damayanti. She, burning to know If truly this were Nala, bade the girl Seek the Queen's presence, saying thus for her:— "Mother! long watching Vahuka, I deem The charioteer is Nala. One doubt lives— His altered form. I must myself have speech With Vahuka; thou, therefore, bid him come, Or suffer me to seek him. Be this done Forthwith, good mother!—whether known or not Unto the Maharaja." When she heard, The Queen told Bhima what the Princess prayed, Who gave consent; and having this good leave From father and from mother (O my King!), Command was sent that Vahuka be brought Where the court ladies lodged. So met those twain; And when Prince Nala's gaze fell on his wife, He stood with beating heart and tearful eyes. And when sweet Damayanti looked on him, She could not speak for anguish of keen joy To have him close; but sat there, mute and wan, Wearing a sad-hued cloth, her lustrous hair Falling unbanded, and the mourning-mark Stamped in gray ashes on her lovely brow. And, when she found a voice, these were the words That came from her: "Didst ever, Vahuka— If Vahuka thy name be, as thou say'st— Know one of noble nature, honorable, Who in the wild woods left his wife asleep— His innocent, fond wife—weary and worn? Know'st thou the man. I'll say his name to thee; 'Twas Nala, Raja Nala! Ah, and when In any thoughtless hour had I once wrought The smallest wrong, that he should leave me so, There in the wood, by slumber overcome? Before the gods I chose him for my lord, The gods themselves rejecting; tell me how This Prince could so abandon, in her need, His true, his loving wife, she who did bear His babes—abandon her to whom he swore— My hand clasped, in the sight of all the gods, And Agni's self—'Thy true lord I will be!' Thou saidst it!—where is now that promise, fled?" While thus she spake (O Victor of thy foes!), Fast from her eyes the woe-sprung waters ran. And Nala, seeing those night-black, loving eyes Reddened with weeping, seeing her falling tears; Broke forth: "Ah! that I lost my throne and realm In dicing, was not done by fault of mine; 'T was Kali wrought it; Kali, O my wife, Drove me to leave thee. Therefore, long ago That evil one was stricken by the curse Which thou didst utter, wandering in the wood, Desolate, night and day, grieving for me. Possessing me he dwelt; but, cursed by thee, Tortured he dwelt, consuming with thy words In fierce and fiercer pain, as when is piled Brand upon burning brand. But he is gone; Patience and penance have o'ermastered him. Princess, the end is reached of our long woes. That evil one being fled, freeing my will, See, I am here; and wherefore would I come, Fairest, except for thee? Yet, answer this:— How should a wife, right-minded to her lord— Her own and lawful lord—compass to choose Another love, as thou, that tremblest, didst? Thy messengers over all regions ran, By the King's name proclaiming: 'Bhima's child A second husband chooseth for herself, Whomso she will—as pleaseth—being free,' Those shameless tidings brought the Raja here At headlong speed—and me!" Tenderly smiled Damayanti through her tears, with quivering lips, And joined palms, answering her aggrieved Prince:— "Judgest thou me guilty of such a sin? When for thy sake I put the gods aside— Thee did I choose, Nishadha, my one lord. In quest of thee did all those Brahmans range In all ten regions, telling all one tale Taught them by me; and so Parnada came To Koshala, where Rituparna dwells, And found thee in his house, and spake to thee Those words, and had thy gentle answer back. Mine the device was, Prince, to bring thee quick; For well I wist no man in all this world Could in one day the fleetest coursers urge So many yojanas, save thou, dear Prince! I touch thy feet, and tell thee this in truth; And true it is that never any wrong Against thee, even in fancy, have I dreamed. Witness for me, as I am loyal and pure, The ever-shifting, all-beholding Air, Who wanders o'er the earth; let him withdraw My breath and slay me, if I sinned in aught! Witness for me, yon golden Sun who goes With bright eye over us; let him withhold Warm life and kill me, if I sinned in aught! Witness for me the white Moon, whose pale spell Lies on all flesh and spirit; let that orb Deny me peace and end me, if I sinned! These be the watchers and the testifiers, The three chief gods that rule the three wide worlds; I cry unto them; let them speak for me; And thou shalt hear them answer for my faith, Or once again, this day, abandon me." Then Vayu showed—the all-enfolding Air— And spake: "Not one wrong hath she wrought thee, Prince, I tell thee sooth. The treasure of her truth Faultless and undefiled she hath kept By us regarded, and sustained by us, These many days. Her tender plot it was, Planned for thy sake, which brought thee; since who else Could in one day drive threescore yojanas? Nala, thou hast thy noble wife again; Thou, Damayanti, hast thy Nala back. Away with doubting; take her to thy breast, Thrice happy Prince!" And while God Vayu spake, Look! there showered flowers down out of the sky[28] Upon them; and the drums of heaven beat Beautiful music, and a gentle wind, Fragrant, propitious, floated, kissing them. But Nala, when he saw these things befall— Wonderful, gracious—when he heard that voice Called the great snake to memory:—whereupon His proper self returned. Bhima's fair child Divinely sounding (Lord of Bharat's line!)— Yielded all doubt of his delightful Love. Then cast he round about his neck the cloth— Unstained by earth, enchanted—and (O King!) Saw her dear lord his beauteous form resume. "Ah, Nala! Nala!" cried she, while her arms Clasped him and clung; and Nala to his heart Pressed that bright lady, glowing, as of old, With princely majesty. Their children twain Next he caressed; while she—at happy peace— Her beautiful glad face laid on his breast, Sighing with too much joy. And Nala stood A great space silent, gazing on her face, Sorrow-stamped yet, her long, deep-lidded eyes, Her melting smile—himself 'twixt joy and woe. Afterwards, all that story of the Prince, And all of Damayanti, Bhima's Queen Told to the Maharaja joyously. And Bhima said: "To-morrow will I see— When Nala hath his needful offerings made— Our daughter and this wandering lord well knit." But all that night they sat, hand clasped in hand, Rejoicing, and relating what befell In the wild wood, and of the woful times. That night being spent, Prince Nala in his state Led forth Vidarbha's Pride before the court. And Bhima—in an hour found fortunate— Re-wed those married lovers. Dutifully Nala paid homage to the Maharaja, And reverently did Damayanti bow Before her father. He the Prince received With grace and gladness, as a son restored, Making fair welcome, and with words of praise Exalting Damayanti, tried and true; Which in all dignity Prince Nala took, Returning, as was meet, words honorable. Therewith unto the city spread the noise Of that rejoicing. All the townspeople, Learning of Nala joyously returned, Made all their quarters gay with float of flags, Flutter of cloths, and garlands; sprinkled free The King's-ways with fresh water, and the cups Of fragrant flowers; and hung long wreaths of flowers. From door to door the white street-fronts before; And decked each temple-porch, and went about The altar-gods. And afterwards, in Bhima's royal house Serenely dwelled the Princess and the Prince, Each making for the other peaceful joy. So in the fourth year Nala was rejoined To Damayanti, comforted and free, Restful, attained, tasting delights again. Also the glad Princess, gaining her lord, Laid sorrows by, and blossomed forth anew, As doth the laughing earth when the rain falls, And brings her unseen, waiting wonders forth Of blade and flower and fruit. The ache was gone, The loneliness and load. Heart-full of ease, Lovelier she grew and brighter, like the moon Mounting at midnight in the cloudless blue. When Rituparna heard How Vahuka is Nala in disguise, And of the meeting, right rejoiced at heart That Raja grew. And, being softly prayed By Nala favorable thought, the King Made royal and gentle answer, with like grace By Nala met. To whom spake Rituparna:— "Joy go with thee and her, happily joined. But say, Nishadha, wrought I any jot Wrongful to thee, whilst sojourning unknown Within my walls? If any word or deed, Purposed or purposeless, hath vexed thee, friend, For one and all thy pardon grant to me!" And Nala answered: "Never act or word, The smallest, Raja, lingers to excuse! If this were otherwise, thy slave was I, And might not question, but must pardon thee. Yet good to me thou wert, princely and just, And kind thou art; and friendly from this time Deign thou to be. Happily was I lodged, Well-tended, well-befriended in thy house; In mine own palace never better stead. The skill in steeds which pleased thee, that is mine, And, Raja, I will give it all to thee, If thou art minded." So Nishadha gave All his great gift in horses to the King, Who learned each rule approved, and ordinance; And, having all this knowledge, gave in turn His deepest lore of numbers and the dice To Nala, afterwards departing home To his own place, another charioteer Driving his steeds; and, Rituparna gone, Not long did Nala dwell in Bhima's town. When one moon he had tarried, taking leave, Nishadha to his city started forth With chosen train. A shining car he drove; And elephants sixteen, and fifty horse, And footmen thirty-score came in the rear. Swiftly did Nala journey, making earth Quake 'neath his flying car; and wrathfully With quick steps entered he his palace doors. The son of Virasena, Nala, stood Once more before that gamester Pushkara! Spake he: "Play yet again; much wealth is mine, And that, and all I have—yea, my Princess— Set I for stakes: set thou this realm, and throw! My mind is fixed a second chance to try, Where, Pushkara, we will play for all or none. Who wins his throne and treasures from a prince, Must stand the hazard of the counter-cast— This is the accepted law. If thou dost blench, The next game we will play is 'life or death,' In chariot-fight; when, or of thee or me One shall lie satisfied: 'Descended realms, By whatsoever means, are to be sought,' The sages say, 'by whatsoever won.' Choose, therefore, Pushkara, which way of these Shall please thee; either meet me with the dice, Or with thy bow confront me in the field." When Pushkara this heard, lightly he smiled, Concluding victory sure; and to the Prince Answered, exulting: "Dishtya! hast thou gained Stakes for a counter-game, Nishadha, now? Dishtya! shall I have my hard-won prize, Sweet Damayanti? Dishtya! didst thou come In kissing-reach again of thy fair wife? Soon, in thy new gold splendid, she shall shine Before all men beside me, as in heaven On Sakra waits the loveliest Apsara. See, now, I thought on thee, I looked for thee, Ever and ever, Prince. There is no joy Like casting in the game with such as thee. And when to-day I win thy blameless one— The smooth-limbed Damayanti—then shall be What was to be: and I can rest content, For always in my heart her beauty burns." Listening the idle talk that babbler poured, Angry Prince Nala fain had lopped away His head with vengeful khudga;[29] but, unmoved, Albeit the wrath blazed in his bloodshot eyes, He made reply: "Play! mock me not with jests; Thou wilt not jest when I have cast with thee!" So was the game set, and the Princes threw Nala and Pushkara, and—the numbers named— By Nala was the hazard gained: he swept His brother's stake, gems, treasure, kingdom, off; At one stroke all that mighty venture won. Then quoth the conquering Prince to Pushkara, Scornfully smiling: "Mine is now once more Nishadha's throne; mine is the realm again, Its curse plucked forth; Vidarbha's glory thou, Outcast, shalt ne'er so much as look upon! Fool! who to-day becom'st her bond and slave. Not by thy gifts that evil stroke was wrought Wherefrom I fled before; 'twas Kali's spell— Albeit thou knew'st nought, fool—overmastered me; Yet will I visit not in wrathful wise My wrong on thee; live as thou wilt; I grant Wherewith to live, and set apart henceforth Thy proper goods and substance, and fit food. Nay, doubt not I shall show thee favor, too, And be in friendship with thee, if thou wilt, Who art my brother. Peace abide with thee!" Thus all-victorious Nala comforted His brother, and embraced him, sending him In honor to his town; and Pushkara— Gently entreated—to Nishadha spake, With folded palms and humbled face, these words:— "Unending be thy glory. May thy bliss Last and increase for twice five thousand years, Who grantest me wherewith to live, just Lord! And where to dwell." Thereafter, well bested, Pushkara sojourned with the Prince one moon; So to his town departed—heart-content— With slaves and foot-soldiers and followers, Gay as a rising sun (O Bharat's glory!). Thus sent he Pushkara, rich and safe, away. Then, with flags and drums and jewels, robed and royally arrayed, Nala into fair Nishadha entry high and dazzling made; At the gates the Raja, halting, spake his people words of love; Gathered were they from the city, gathered from the field and grove; From the mountain and the maidan, all a-thrill with joy to see Nala come to guard his children. "Happy now our days will be," Said the townsfolk, said the elders, said the villagers, "O King!" Standing all with palms upfolded: "Peace and fortune thou wilt bring To thy city, to thy country! Boundless welcome do we give, As the gods in heaven to Indra, when with them he comes to live." After, when the show was ended, and the city, calm and glad, Rest from tumult of rejoicing and rich flood of feasting had, Girt with shining squadrons, Nala fetched his pearl of women home. Like a queen did Damayanti back unto her palace come, By the Maharaja Bhima, by that mighty monarch sent Royally, with countless blessings, to her kingdom, in content. There, beside his peerless Princess, and his children, bore he sway, Godlike, even as Indra ruling 'mid the bliss of Nandana.[30] Bore he sway—my noble Nala—princeliest of all lords—who reign In the lands of Jambudwipa;[31] winning power and fame again; Ruling well his realm reconquered, like a just and perfect king, All the appointed gifts bestowing, all the rites remembering.

[22] Jhillikas are the large wood-crickets

[23] A caravan.

[24] This is a secretion which flows by a small orifice from the elephant's temples at certain seasons. It is sweet-smelling, and constantly alluded to in Hindoo poetry.

[25] "Gentleness is chief of virtues."

[26] These "curls" are the "Arvathas," or marks of good blood and high-breeding.

[27] "O Beautiful One!"

[28] This raining down of heavenly flowers on auspicious occasions is a frequent incident in ancient Indian poetry.

[29] A short; broad-bladed sword.

[30] Nandana is the Paradise of Indra.

[31] Ancient name of India: "The Land of the Rose-apple Tree."



SELECTIONS FROM THE RAMAYANA

BY

VALMIKI

[Metrical translation by R.T.H. Griffiths]

INTRODUCTION

The ideas of the human family are few, as is apparent from the study of the literature of widely different nations. Thus the "Ramayana" ranks in Hindoo with the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey" in Greek literature. The character of Rama corresponds with that of Menelaus, for both the European and the Asiatic heroes have had their wives carried off from them—although Sita, the bride of Rama, is chaste as an icicle from Diana's temple, while Helen is the infamous type of wanton wives, ancient and modern. The Hindoo Lanka is Troy, and Ayodhya is Sparta. The material civilization of the cities in the Hindoo epic is more luxurious and gorgeous than that which Homer attributes to Greece in the heroic age. Such splendor and refinement as invests social life at Lanka and Ayodhya never appear amid the severe simplicity of Argos or Troy. The moral tone seems perhaps higher in India than in Greece during the periods described in their several epics—at least as far as mutual love and forbearance go—and the ideas of marriage and conjugal fidelity are equally exalted.

As to the literary quality of the Hindoo epic in comparison with Homer's work, we are at once impressed with the immense superiority of the Greek poem in artistic proportion, point, and precision. The Hindoo poet flounders along, amid a maze of prolix description and wearisome simile. Trifles are amplified and repeated, and the whole poem resembles a wild forest abounding in rich tropical vegetation, palms and flowers, but without paths, roads, or limits. Or rather, we are reminded of one of the highly painted and richly decorated idols of India, with their many heads and many hands: but when we turn to the Greek epic we stand before a statue of pure outline, flawless proportions, and more than human beauty.

It is difficult to fix the date of the "Ramayana." Scholars generally agree that it belongs to the third century before Christ, in its original form, but that some recent portions were added even during the Christian era. It is reckoned as one of the sacred books, and the study of it is supposed to bring forgiveness of sin, and prosperity. Its author is thought to have been the famous poet Valmiki, but the work has evidently been rehandled several times, and there are three versions of the poems still extant. The poem consists of twenty-four thousand verses, and the story of it—now overlaid as it is with extravagant and fabulous accretions—is evidently founded on fact. The scene of the poem is laid in the city of Ayodhya, the modern Oudh, which is described in glowing colors as a place of health, beauty, and prosperity—

"In by-gone ages built and planned By sainted Manu's princely hand."

In the splendid palace of the Rajah, at Oudh, lives Dasaratha, mourning in childlessness. He is one of the princes descended from the sun, and his line now threatens to become extinct. He determines to appeal to the Gods by the Asva-medha, the great sacrifice in which a horse is the victim. The rites accordingly are performed with unparalleled magnificence, and, at the close of the ceremony, the high priest declares to the king—

"Four sons, O Monarch, shall be thine, Upholders of the royal line."

Among the offspring duly granted to Dasaratha is Rama, who is a typical Hindoo of the heroic type. His fair wife, Sita, is carried off by the demon Ravana, who had assumed the form of a humble priest, or ascetic, in order to gain access to her. He carries her in his chariot to Lanka, the fair city built on an island of the sea. By the assistance of a large army of monkeys, Rama marches against Lanka, and when they stand helpless—for the water separates them from Ceylon—he then invokes the goddess of the sea, as Achilles did Thetis, and she comes in radiant beauty, telling them how to bridge the waves. The monkeys bring timber and stones, the bridge is built, Lanka reached, and the battle begins. Indra sends his own chariot down from heaven to Rama, who mounts it, and vanquishes Ravana in single combat, upon which Sita is restored to her husband. E.W.



THE RAMAYANA

INVOCATION

Praise to Valmiki, bird of charming song, 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 Valmiki's tongue, Nor feel his feet the path of bliss attain When Rama's glory by the saint is sung?

The stream Ramayan leaves its sacred fount The whole wide world from sin and stain to free. 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, Prachet's 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 Valmiki, lord of every lore! Hail, holy Hermit, calm and pure of mind! Hail, First of Bards, Valmiki, hail once more!



BOOK I

CANTO I

NARAD

Om.

To sainted Narad, prince of those Whose lore in words of wisdom flows, Whose constant care and chief delight Were Scripture and ascetic rite, The good Valmiki, first and best Of hermit saints, these words addressed:— "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, 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 best and dearest friend, Whose steps her choicest gifts attend? Who may with Sun and Moon compare, With Indra, Vishnu, Fire, and Air? Grant, Saint divine, 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, 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 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, His throat displays the auspicious sign. 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; 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 The Vedas and their kindred lore. Well skilled is he the bow to draw, 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. The joy of Queen Kausalya's heart, In every virtue he has part; Firm as Himalaya's snowy steep, Unfathomed like the mighty deep; The peer of Vishnu's power and might, And lovely as the Lord of Night; Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, Fierce as the world-destroying fire; In bounty like the Lord of Gold, And Justice' self in human mould. With him, his best and eldest son, By all his princely virtues won King Dasaratha 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. 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, 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. And Chitrakuta grew to be As bright with those illustrious three As Meru's sacred peaks that shine With glory, when the Gods recline Beneath them: Siva's self between The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen.

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 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 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 Fared Rama, ever onward till 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 With Rama and his strength to cope. Impelled by fate and blind with rage He came to Rama's hermitage. There, by Maricha's magic art, He wiled the princely youths apart, The vulture slew, and bore away The wife of Rama as his prey. The son of Raghu 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 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 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 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. 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[32] town he urged his way, Where Ravan held his royal sway. There pensive 'neath Asoka boughs He found poor Sita, 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 honoring the high decree Which Brahma had pronounced of yore, 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 River's King Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore. 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 honor 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, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honored 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 seemed 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, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten, 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, ne'er shall fail To reap advantage from the tale.

[Cantos II., III., IV., and V. are omitted.]

[32] Ceylon.



CANTO VI

THE KING

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: 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 ear-rings, 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 labor for a day. 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 honor and obey; And all were by the Sudras served, 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 honor ne'er was stained. 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 Vahli's hills and Sindhu's sand, Vanayu and Kamboja's land. 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, 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. Thus, worthy of the name she bore, Ayodhya for a league or more Cast a bright glory round, Where Dasaratha wise and great 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 neighbors' good intent, Most active and benevolent; As sits the Vasus 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 labors 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. 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 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.



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 plans 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 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 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' 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."

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 honor 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 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. 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; 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. And looked with eager eyes around The hermit's son to see. Still, of Vibhandak sore afraid, They hid behind the creeper's 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 motions 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 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 His modest soul with soft desire. With arch of brow, with beck and smile, 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 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 honor 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, 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, 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 Forth to the forest went.

But Rishyasring with eager pace Sped forth and hurried to the place Where he those visitants had seen Of dainty 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 honor there to thee we'll pay, 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 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 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 honored 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 honored by the King, The glorious Brahman Rishyasring Passed in that royal town his life With Santa his beloved wife.



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 honored bride. And Dasaratha to a rite That best of Brahmans shall invite With supplicating prayer To celebrate the sacrifice To win him sons and Paradise, That he will fain prepare. 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, He saw within the monarch's house The hermit's son, most glorious. There Lomapad, with joyful breast, To him all honor 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 Santa's 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 succor lend, And give his vows a blissful end."

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 the stranger dame So beautiful to view, Rejoiced within their hearts, and came And paid her honor, 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.



CANTO XI

THE SACRIFICE DECREED

The Dewy Season came and went; The spring returned again— Then would the King, with mind intent, 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," 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 honored 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, And let the horse, ordained to bleed, With fitting guard and priest, be freed. Yonder on Sarju's northern side The sacrificial ground provide; And let the saving rites, that nought 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 honoring, 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, 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 whatever may be Desired, O honored King, by thee." To ancient priests he spoke, who, trained In holy rites, deep skill had gained:— "Here guards be stationed, good and sage, 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, 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 honor, not for pity's sake, That fit regard and worship be 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 nought omit." The sage Vasishtha 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 honor here. And Janak, whose imperial sway The men of Mithila obey, The firm of vow, the dread of foes, Who all the lore of Scripture knows, Invite him here with honor high, King Dasaratha's old ally. And Kasi's lord of gentle speech, Who finds a pleasant word for each— 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 realms obey, Him with his son invite, I pray. And Lomapad, the Angas King, True to his vows and godlike, bring. Far be thine invitations sent To west and south and orient. Call those who rule Surashtra's land, Suvira's 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:— "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 passed, 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. And it has been my care to greet And honor 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 began to speed Those glorious rites wherein is shed The lifeblood of the steed.



CANTO XIII

THE SACRIFICE FINISHED

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 were duly sped:— For Upasads the flames were fed. Then from the plant 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, 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 intoned 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. 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 ear-rings gay. The best of Brahmans praised the fare Of countless sorts, of flavor rare— And thus to Raghu's son they cried:— "We bless thee, and are satisfied." Between the rites some Brahmans spent The time in learned argument, With ready flow of speech, sedate, And keen to vanquish in debate. There day by day the holy train Performed all rites as rules ordain. No priest in all that host was found But kept the vows that held him bound; None, but the holy Vedas knew, And all their sixfold science 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 and Khadir six and six; Six, made of the Palasa-tree, Of Fig-wood one, apart to be— Of Sleshmat and of Devadar 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 splendor 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. 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. 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 threefold. 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 honor 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 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 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, 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.

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. Thus did each priest obtain his meed At the great Slaughter of the Steed, Ordained, the best of all to be, 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 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

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 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, 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 honor 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, honoring 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 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. 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:— "O Lord whose hand fierce Madhu 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 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 God's tremendous foe."

When thus the suppliant Gods had prayed, His wise reply Narayan made:— "What task demands my presence there, And when 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 favor 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, 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 forever 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 Prepared the rite that wins an heir. 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 splendor, strength and size Was manifest before his eyes. 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 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 honored, filled with transport new, That wondrous being, fair to view, As round the envoy of the God With reverential steps he trod. His errand done, that form of light 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.



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 weapons' lore and use As they who drink the immortal juice. 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."

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 choir. Each faun, of children strong and good Whose feet should roam the hill and wood. Snakes, bards, and spirits, serpents bold Had sons too numerous to be told. Bali, the woodland hosts who led, High as Mahendra's 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— Tara the matchless chieftain, boast For wisdom of the Vanar host. Of Gandhamadan brave and bold The father was the Lord of Gold. Nala the mighty, dear to fame, Of skilful Visvakarma came. From Agni, Nila bright as flame, Who in his splendor, might, and worth, Surpassed the sire who gave him birth. The heavenly Asvins, swift and fair, Were fathers of a noble pair, Who, Dwivida and Mainda named, For beauty like their sires were famed. Varun was father of Sushen, Of Sarabh, he who sends the rain. Hanuman, best of monkey kind, Was son of him who breathes the wind— Like thunderbolt in frame was he, And swift as Garud's 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. 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 honored 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, 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, 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.