But tell me, O, I pray thee, why rhe 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, To Dandak's pathless wild will fare, For twice seven years an exile there.'
When Kama thus had made reply Kaikeyi's 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, Rarna, as I ween that thou Wilt scarce endure to linger now, 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 1' from the sad monarch burst, In surging floods of grief immersed; Then swooning, with his wits astray, Upon the gold-wrought couch he Jay. 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: ' 1 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 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 chew my Site'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 steps he paced, Nor vailed his eye, nor moved in haste. The loss of empire could not dim The glory that encompassed him. So will the Lord of Cooling Rays1 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, Lost the bright look all hearts that charm ed, i The Moon.
THE RAM AY AN.
Boole II.
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, 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 bio w each faithful friend.
CANTO XX.
KAUg ALGA'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 \vail 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, Who in his folly casts away The world's protection, hope, and stay.' Thus in their woe, like kine bereaved Of their young calves, l the ladies grieved, 1 The comparison may to a European reader seem a homely one, But Spenser likens an infuriate woman to a cow ' Thatisberobbedof 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 creatures; 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.'
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, 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, 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 Lakshml 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, Her arms around him threw. Her hero son, her matchless boy She kissed upon the head: She blessed him in her pride and joy With tender words, and said: Canto XX.
THE RAMA? AN.
' 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 hands, 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,1 As when the "woodman's axe has lopped A $al 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 limps 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 O.ne 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, 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, Kaikeyi's 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 KaikeyiV son, With silent lips my glances shan. How, O my darling, shall I brook Bach menace of Kaikeyi's 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 wrong1, 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 To bear 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 painj That prayer and largess, fast and vow, And Heavenward service are in vain. Ah me, ah me 1 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.'
THE RAM AY AN.
Boole 11.
CANTO XXI.
KAUgALYA CALMED.
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 week, 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 eee 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: 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, aiid 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.'
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. Ttius 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 Was guilty of an impious crime That marked the lord of each fair flood As one who spills a Brahman's blood.'1 Thus spake the queen, and wept, and sighed; Then righteous Rama thus replied: * 1 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, 1 The commentators say that, in a former creation, Ocean grieved his mother and suffered in consequence the pains of hell.
Canto XXL THE RAMA YAN.
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 clsft, And countless things of life bereft.1 So Jamadagni's son55 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 fill til 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.
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: Tny 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 dp 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? Kaikeyi's 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.'
Kama by fond affection moved His brother Lakshman thus reproved; Then with joined hands and reverent head Again to Queen Kausalya said: ' 1 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.
1 As described in Book I Canto XL. * Paras uraina.
y 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? 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 lie heard his mother's cry, Burnt Kama'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 Hests 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? Now. mother, speed thy parting *on.
And let thy blessing soothe my pain, THE RAMA YAN.
Boole II.
That I may turn, mine exile done, Like Kkig 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 earth 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 Bama 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 be Graced with the things prepared for me.
Arid 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 co/ning 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.
'hen will the lady's trouble cease, hen will her heart have joy and peace, iVhen wandering in the wood I wear Deerskin, and bark, and matted hair, ^or shall by me his heart be grieved iVhose choice approved, whose mind con- ceived 'his counsel which I follow. No, 'orth to the forest will I go. Tis Fate, Sumitra's son, confess, 'hat sends me to the wilderness. Tis Fate alone that gives away ?o other hands the royal sway. low could Kaikeyi's purpose bring 3n me this pain and suffering, Were not her change of heart decreed y Fate whose will commands the deed? know my filial love has been Dhe same throughout for every queen, And with the same affection she las treated both her son and me. ier shameful words of cruel spite To stay the consecrating rite, And drive me banished from the throne, — These I ascribe to Fate alone, low 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, [n her and me its power has shown, Arid 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 1 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. 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 unlocked 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. These preparations check with speed, Nor let my throning rites proceed. These urns that stand prepared to shed King-making drops upon my head, Shall with their pure lustrations now Inaugurate my hermit's vow.
XXIII.
THE RAMA YAN.
Yet what have I to do with things That touch the state and pomp>f.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, But let thy heart remember still That Fate is lord of all.'
.
CANTO XXIII. AKSH MAN'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 hand1 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, No cause to dread the people's blame. Can one so brave as thou consent To use, a coward's argument J The glory of the Warrior race With craven speech his lips debase? Can one like thce so falsely speak, Exalting Fate, confessed so weak? ^ Canst thou, undoubting still restrain Suspicions of those sinful twain?
1 The Sanskrit word liasta signifies both hand, and the trunk of 'The beast that bears between his eyes a serpent for a hand,' 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, 0 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,