Thus the sad town, which Rama kept As a kind father, wailed and wept. Each mansion, as the car went by, Sent forth a loud and bitter cry, As to the window every dame, Mourning for banished Rama, came. As his sad eyes with tears o'erflowed, He sped along the royal road To Dasaratha's high abode. There leaping down his car he stayed; Within the gates his way he made; Through seven broad courts he onward hied Where people thronged on every side. From each high terrace, wild with woe, The royal ladies flocked below; Canto LVIIL THE RAMAYAN.
He heard them talk in gentle tone, As each for Rama made her moan: ' What will the charioteer reply- To Queen Kausalya's eager cry? With Rama from the gates he went; Homeward alone, his steps are bent. Hard is a life with woe distressed, But difficult to win is rest, If, when her son is banished, still She lives beneath her load of ill.'
Such was the speech Sumantra heard From them whom grief unfeigned had stirred.
As fires of anguish burnt him through, Swift to the monarch's hall he drew, Past the eighth court: there met his sight, The sovereign in his palace- bright, Still weeping for his son, forlorn. Pale, faint, and all with sorrow worn. As there he sat, Sumantra bent And did obeisance reverent, And to the king repeated o'er The message he from Rama bore. The monarch heard, and well-nigh brake His heart, but yet no word he spake: Fainting to earth he fell, and dumb, By grief for Rama overcome. Rang through the hall a startling cry, And women's arms were tossed on high, When, with his senses all astray, Upon the ground the monarch lay. Kausalyd, with Sumitra's aid, Raised from the ground her lord dismayed: ' Sire, of high fate,' she cried, O, why Dost thou no single word reply To Rama's messenger who brings News of his painful wanderings? The great injustice done, art thou Shame-stricken for thy conduct no\y? 13-ise up, and do thy part: bestow Comfort and help in this our woe. Speak freely, King; dismiss thy fear, For Queen Kaikeyi stands not near, Afraid of whom thpu wouldst not seek Tidings of Rama: freely speak.'
When the sad queen had ended so, She sank, insatiate in her woe, 'And prostrate lay upon the ground, While her faint voice by sobs was drowned. When all the ladies in despair Saw Queen Kausalya wailing there, And the poor king oppressed with pain, They flocked around and wept again.
CANTO LVIII.
RAMA'S MESSAGE.
The king a while had senseless lain, W&en care brought memory back again.
Then straight he called, the news to hear Of Rama, for the charioteer. With reverent hand to hand applied He waited by the old man's side, Whose mind with anguish was distraught Like a great elephant newly caught. The king with bitter pain distressed The faithful charioteer addressed, Who, sad of mien, with flooded eye, And dust upon his limbs, stood by: ' Where will be Rama's dwelling now At some tree's foot, beneath the bough; Ah, what will be the exile's food. Bred up with kind solicitude? Can he, long lapped in pleasant rest, Unmeet for pain, by pain oppressed, Son of earth s king, his sad night spend Earth-couched, as one that has no friend f Behind him, when abroad he sped, Cars, elephant, and foot were led: Then how shall Rama dwell afar In the wild woods where no men are? How, tell me, did the princes there, With Sita good and soft and fair, Alighting from the chariot, tread The forest wilds around them spread? A happy lot is thine, I ween, Whose eyes my two dear sons have seen Seeking on foot the forest shade, Like the bright Twins to view displayed, The heavenly Asvins, when they seek The woods that hang 'neath Mandar's peak, What words, Sumantra, quickly tell, From Rama, l,akshman. Sita, fell? How in the wood did Rama eat?
What was his bed, and what his seat? Full answer to my questions give, For 1 on thy replies shall live, As with the saints Yay^ti held ISweet converse, from the skies expelled.'
Urge4 by the lord of men to speak, Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, In answer to the monarch spoke: ' Hear then the words that I{,ama saM, Resolved in duty's path to tread. Joining his hands, his head he bent. And gave this message, reve.rent; ' Sumantra, to my father go, Whose lofty mind ail people know; Bow down before him, as is meet, And in my stead salute his feet. Then to the queen my mother bend, And give the greeting that I send: Ne'er may her steps from duty err, And may it still be well with her. And add this word: ' O Queen, pursue, Thy vows with faithful heart and true • And ever at due season turn Where holy fires of worship burn. And, lady, on our lord bestpw THE RAM AY AN.
Book II.
Such honour as to Gods we owe. Be kind to every queen: let pride And thought of self be cast aside. In the king's fond opinion raise Kaikeyi, by respect and praise. Let the young Bharat ever be Loved, honoured as the king by thee: Thy king- ward duty ne'er forget: High over all are monarchs set.'
And. Bharat, too, for me address: Pray that all health his life may bless. Let every royal lady share, As justice bids, his love and care. Say to the strong-armed chief who brings Joy to Iksvaku's line of kings: * As ruling prince thy care be shown Of him, our sire, who holds the throne, Stricken in years he feels their weight; But leave him in his royal state. As regent heir content thee still, Submissive to thy father's will.' Rama again his charge renewed, As the hot flood his cheek bedewed: ' Hold as thine own my mother dear Who drops for me the longing tear.' Then Lakshman, with his soul on fire, Spake breathing fast these words of ire: ' Sa)% for what sin, for what offence Was royal Rama banished thence? He is the cause, the king; poor slave To the light charge Kaikeyi gave. Let right or wrong the motive be, The author of our woe is he. Whether the exile were decreed Through foolish faith or guilty greed, For promises or empire, still The king has wrought a grievous ill. Grant that the Lord of all saw fit To prompt the deed and sanction it, In Kama's life no cause I see For which the king should bid him flee. His blinded eyes refused to scan The guilt and folly of the plan, And from the weakness of the king Here and hereafter woe shall spring.
No more my sire: the ties that used To bind me to the king are loosed. My brother Rama, Raghu's son, To me is lord, friend, sire in one. The love of men how can he win, Deserting, by the cruel sin, Their joy, whose heart is swift to feel A pleasure in the people's weal? Shall he whose mandate could expel The virtuous Rama, loved, so well, To whom his subjects' fond hearts cling— Shall he in spite of them be king?'
But Janak's child, my lord, stood by, And oft the votaress heaved a sigh. She seemed with dull and wandering sense, Beteath a spirit's influence, The noble princess, pained with woe Which till that hour she ne'er could know, Tears in her heavy trouble shed, But not a word to me she said. She raised her face which grief had dried, And tenderly her husband eyed, Gazed on him as he turned to go While tear chased tear in rapid flow.'
CANTO LIX.
DAgARATHA'S LAMENT.
As thus Sumantra, best of peers, Told his sad tale with many tears, The monarch cried, ' I pray thee, tell At length again what there befell.' Sumantra, at the king's behest, Striving with sobs he scarce repressed, His trembling voice at last controlled, And thus his further tidings told: ' Their locks in votive coils they wound, Their coats of bark upon them bound, To Ganga's farther shore they went, Thence to Prayag their steps were bent. I saw that Lakshman walked ahead To guard the path the two should tread. So far I saw, no more could learn, Forced by the hero to return. Retracing slow my homeward course, Scarce could I move each stubborn horse: Shedding hot tears of grief he stood When Rama turned him to the wood.1 As the two princes parted thence I raised my hands in reverence, Mounted my ready car, and bore The grief that stung me to the core. With Guha all that day I stayed, Still by the earnest hope delayed That Rama, ere the time should end, Some message from the wood might send. Thy realms, great Monarch, mourn the blow, And sympathize with Rama's woe.
1 * So in Homer the horses of Achilles lamented with many bitter tears the death of Patroclus slain by Hector: ILIAD. XVII, 426. Ancient poesy frequently associated nature with the joys and sorrows of man,' GORBESIO.
Canto LX.
THE RAM AT AN.
Each withering1 tree hangs low his head, And shoot, and bud, and flower are dead. Dried are the floods that wont to fill The lake, the river, and the rill. Drear is each grove and garden now, Dry every blossom on the bough. Each beast is still, no serpents crawl: A lethargy of woe on all. The very wood is silent: crushed With grief for Rama, all is hushed. Fair blossoms from the water born, Gay garlands that the earth adorn, And every fruit that gleams like gold, Have lost the scent that charmed of old, Empty is every grove I see, Or birds sit pensive on the tree. Where'er I look, its beauty o'er, The pleasance charms not as before. I drove through fair Ayodhya's street: None flew with joy the car to meet. They saw that Rama was not there, And turned them sighing in despair, The people in the royal way Wept tears of bitter grief, when they Beheld me coming, from afar, No Rama with me in the car. From palace roof and turret high Each woman bent her eager eye; She looked for Rama, but in vain; Gazed on the car and shrieked for pain. Their long clear eyes with sorrow drowned They, when this common grief was found, Looked each on other, friend and foe, I & sympathy of levelling woe: No shade of difference between Foe, friend, or neutral, there was seen, Without a joy, her bosom rent With grief for Rama's banishment, Ayodhya like the queen appears Who mourns her son with many tears.' He ended: and the king, distressed, With sobbing voice that lord addressed: 'Ah me, by false Kaikeyi led, Of evil race, to evil bred, I took no counsel of the sage, Nor sought advice from skill and age. I asked no lord his aid to lend, I called no citizen or friend. Rash was my deed, bereft of sense, Slave to a woman's influence. Surely, my lord, a woe so great Falls on us by the will of Fate; It lays the house of Raghu lo\v, For Destiny will have it so. I pray tiiee, if I e'er have done An act to please thee, yea, but one, Fly, fly, and Rama homeward lead: My life, departing, counsels speed. Fly, ere the power to bid I lack, Fly to the wood: bring Rama back, I cannot live for even one Short hour bereaved of my son.
But ah, the prince, whose arms are strong, Has journeyed far: the way is long; Me, me upon the chariot place, And let me look on Rama's face.
Ah me, my son, mine eldest-born, Where roams he in the wood forlorn, The wielder of the mighty bow, Whose shoulders like the lion's show?
O, ere the light of life be dim, Take me to Sita and to him.
O Rama, Lakshman, and O thou Dear Sita, constant to thy vow, Beloved ones, you cannot know That I am dying of my woe.'
The king to bitter grief a prey, That drove each wandering sense away, Sunk in affliction's sea. too wide To traverse, in his anguish cried: * Hard, hard to pass, my Queen, this sea Of sorrow raging over me: No Rama near to soothe mine eye, Plunged in its lowest deeps I lie. Sorrow for Rama swells the tide, And Sita's absence makes it wide: My tears its foamy flood distain, Made billowy by my sighs of pain: My cries its roar, the arms I throw About me are the tish below. Kaikeyi is the lire that feeds Beneath: my hair the tangled weeds: Its source the tears for Rama shed: The hump-back's words its monsters dread: The boon I gave the wretch its shore, Till Rama's banishment be o'er.1 Ah me, that I should long to set My eager eyes to-day On Raghu's son, and he be yet With Lakshman far away 1' Thus he of lofty glory wailed, And vsank upon the bed.
Beneath the woe his spirit failed, And all his senses fled, CANTO LX.
KAIJgALYAf CONSOLED.
As Queen Kausalya, trembling much, As blighted by a goblin's touch, Still lying prostrate, half awoke To consciousness, 'twas thus she spoke: ' Bear me away, Sumantra, far, Where Rama, Sita, Lakshman are. Bereft of them I have no power To linger on a single hour.
1 The lines containing this heap of forced metaphors are marked as spurious by Schlegel.
THE RAMAYAN.
Book II.
Again, I pray, thy steps retrace, And me in Dandak forest place, For after them 1 needs must go, Or sink to Yama's realms below.* His utterance choked by tears that rolled Down from their fountains uncontrolled, With suppliant hands the charioteer Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer: * Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread That tills thy soul, of sorrow bred, For pain and anguish thrown aside, Will Rama in the wood abide. And Lakshman, with unfailing care Will guard the* feet of Rama there, Earning, with governed sense, the prize That waits on duty in the skies. And Sita in the wild as well As in her own dear home will dwell; To Rama all her heart she gives, -4nd free from doubt and terror lives. No faintest sign of care or woe The features of the lady show: Methinks Videha's pride was made For exile in the forest shade. E'en as of old she used to rove Delighted in the city's grove, Thus, even thus she joys to tread The woodlands uninhabited. Like a young child, her face as fair As the young moon, she wanders there. What though in lonely woods she stray Still Rama is her joy and stay: AH his the heart no sorrow bends, Her very life on him depends. For, if her lord she might not see, Ayodhya like the wood would be. She bids him, as she roams, declare The names of towns and hamlets there, Marks various trees that meet her eye, And many a brook that hurries by, And Janak's daughter seems to roam One lijttle league away frOm home v When Rama or his brother speaks And gives the answer that she seeks. This, Lady, I remember well; Nor angry words have I to tell: Reproaches at Kaikeyi shot, Such, Queen, my mind remembers not.' The speech when Sita's wrath was high, Sumantra passed in silence by, That so his pleasant words might cheer With sweet report Kausalya's ear. ' Her moonlike beauty suffers not Though winds be rude and suns be hot: The way, the danger, and the toil Her gentle lustre may not soil. Like the red lily's leafy crown Or as the fair full moon looks down? So the Videhan lady's face Still shines with undiminished grace, "What if the borrowed colours throw O'er her fine feet no rosy glow, Still with their natural tints they spread A lotus glory where they tread.
In sportive grace she walks the ground And sweet her chiming anklets sound.
No jewels clasp the faultless limb: She leaves them all for love of him.
If in the woods her gentle eye A lion sees, or tiger nigh, Or elephant, she fears no ill For Rama's arm supports her still.
No longer be their fate deplored, Nor thine, nor that of KosaPs lord, For conduct such as theirs shall buy Wide glory that can never die.
For casting grief and care away, Delighting in the forest, they With joyful spirits, blithe and gay, Set forward on the ancient way Where mighty saints have led: Their highest aim, their dearest care To keep their father's honour fair, Observing still the oath he sware, They roam, on wild fruit fed.' Thus with persuasive art he tried To turn her from her grief aside, By soothing fancies won. But still she gave her sorrow yent: ' Ah Rama!,' was her shrill lament, ' J^y love, my son, my son! ' CANTO LXI. KAU^ALYA'S LAMENT, When, best of all who give delight, Her Rama wandered far from sight, Kausalya weeping, sore distressed. The Idng her husband thus addressed: ' Thy name, O Monarch, far and wide Through the three worlds is glprifjed: Yet Rama's is the pitying mind, His speech is true, his heart is kind. How \yill thy sops, good lord, sustain. With Sita all their care and pain? How in the wild endure distress, Nursed in the lap of tenderness? How will the dear Videhan bear The heat and cold when wandering there, Bred in the bliss of princely state, So young and fair and delicate? The largcreyed lady, wont to eat The best of finely seasoned meat — How will she now her life sustain With woodland fare of self-sewn grain? Will she, with joys encompassed long, Who loved the music and the song, In the wild wood endure to hear The ravening lion's voice of fear? Where sleeps my strong- armed hero, where, Canto LXIL THE RAM AY AN.
Like Lord Mahendra's standard, fair? Where is, by Lakshman's side, his bed, His club-like arm beneath his head? When shall I see his flower-like eyes, And face that with the lotus vies, Feel his sweet lily breath, and view His glorious hair and lotus hue? The heart within my breast, I feel, Is adamant or hardest steel, Or, in a thousand fragments split, The loss of him had shattered it, When those I love, who should be blest, Are wandering in the wood distressed, Condemned their wretched lives to lead In exile, by thy ruthless deed. If, when the fourteen years are past, Kama reseeks his home at last, I think not Bharat will consent To yield the wealth and government. At funeral feasts some mourners deal To kith and kin the solemn meal, And having duly fed them all Some Brah mans to the banquet call. The best of Bralimans, good and wise, The tardy summoning despise, And, equal to the Gods, disdain Cups, e'en of Amrit, thus to drain, Nay e'en when Brahmans first have fed, They loathe the meal for others spread, And from the leavings turn with scorn, As nulls avoid a fractured horn. So Rama, sovereign lord of men, Will spurn the sullied kingship then: He. born the eldest and the best, His younger's leavings will detest, Turning from tasted food away, As tigers scorn another's prey. The sacred post is used not twice, Nor elements, in sacrifice. But once the sacred grass is spread, But once with oil the flame is fed: So Kama's pride will ne'er receive The royal power which others leave, Like wine when tasteless dregs are left, Or rites of Soma juice bereft. Be sure the pride of Raghu's race Will never stoop to such disgrace: The lordly lion will not bear That man should beard him in his lair. Were all the worlds against him ranged His dauntless soul were still unchanged: He, dutiful, in duty strong, Would purge the impious world from wrong, Could net the hero, brave and bold, The archer, with his shafts of gold, Burn up the very seas, as doom Will in the end all life consume? Of lion's might, eyed like a bull, A prince so brave and beautiful, Thou hast with wicked hate pursued. Like sea-born tribes who eat their brood, 12 If thou, O Monarch, hadst but known The duty all the Twice-born own,. If the good laws had touched thy mind, Which sages in the Scriptures find, Tiiou ne'er hadst driven forth to pine This brave, this duteous son of thine, First on her lord the wife depends, Next on her son and last on friends: These three supports in life has she, And not a fourth for her may be. Thy heart, 0 King, I have not won; In wild woods roams my banished son; Far are my friends: ah, hapless me, Quite ruined and destroyed by thee.'
CANTO LXIL DA&ARATHA CONSOLED.
The queen's stern speech the monarch heard, As rage and grief her bosom stirred, And by his anguish sore oppressed Reflected in his secret breast. Fainting and sad, with woe distraught, He wandered in a maze of thought; At length the queller of the foe Grew conscious, rallying from his woe. When consciousness returned anew Long burning sighs the monarch drew. Again immersed in thought he eyed Ivausalya standing by his side. Back to his pondering soul was brought The direful deed his hand had wrought, When, guiltless of the wrong intent, His arrow at a sound was sent. Distracted by his memory's sting, And mourning for his son, the king To two consuming griefs a prey, A miserable victim lay. The double woe devoured him fast, As on the ground his eyes he cast, Joined suppliant hands, her heart to touch, And spake in the answer, trembling much: ' Kausalya, for thy grace I sue, Joining these hands as suppliants do. Thou e'en to foes hast ever been A gentle, good, and loving queen. Her lord, with noble virtues graced, Her lord, by lack of all debased, Is still a God in woman's eyes, If duty's law she hold and prize. Thou, who the right hast aye pursued, Life's changes and its chances viewed, Shouldst never launch, though sorrow- stirred, At me distressed, one bitter word,' She listened, as with sorrow faint He murmured forth his sad complaint: Her brimming eyes with tears ran o'er, As spouts the new-fallen water pour; TEE n AM AT AN.
Boole II.
His suppliant hands, with fear dismayed She gently clasped in hers, ana laid, Like a fair lotus, on her head, And faltering in her trouble said: ' Forgive me; at thy feet I lie, With low bent head to thee I cry.
By thee besought, thy guilty dame Pardon from thee can scarcely claim.
She merits not the name of wife Who cherishes perpetual strife With her own husband good and wise, Her lord both here and in the skies.
I know the claims of duty well, I know thy lips the truth must tell.
All the wild words I rashly spoke, Forth from my heart, through anguish, broke; For sorrow bends the stoutest soul. And cancels Scripture's high control. Yea, sorrow's might all else overthrows The strongest and the worst of foes. ' Tis thus with all: we keenly feel, Yet bear the blows our foemen deal, But when a slender woe assails The manliest spirit bends and quails. The fifth long night has now begun Since the wild woods have lodged my son: To me whose joy is drowned in tears, Each day a dreary year appears. While all my thoughts on him are set Grief at my heart swells wilder yet: With doubled might thus Ocean raves When rushing floods increase his waves.'
As from Kau&alya reasoning well The gentle words of wisdom fell, The sun went down with dying flame, And darkness o'er the landscape came. His lady's soothing words in part Relieved the monarch's aching heart,, Who, wearied out by all his woes» Yielded to sleep and took repose.
CANTO LXIIL THE HERMIT'S SON.
But soon by rankling grief oppressed The king awoke from troubled rest, And his sad heart was tried again With anxious thought where all was pain. Kama and Lakshman's mournful fate On Dasaratha, good and great As Indra, pressed with crushing weight, As when the demon's might assails The Sun-God, and his glory pales. Ere yet the sixth long night was spent, Since Rama to the woods was sent, The king at midnight sadly thought Of the old crime his hand had wrought, And thus to Queen Kausalya cried Who still for Rama moaned and sighed: 'If thou art waking, give, I pray, Attention to the words I say. Whate'er the conduct men pursue, Be good or ill the acts they do, Be sure, dear Queen, they find the meed Of wicked or of virtuous deed. A heedless child we call the man Whose feeble judgment fails to scan The weight of what his hands may do, Its lightness, fault, and merit too. One lays the Mango garden low, And bids the gay Palasas grow: Longing for fruit their bloom he sees, But grieves when fruit should bend thetrees.
trees.
Cut by my hand, my fruit-trees fell, Palasa trees 1 watered well. My hopes this foolish heart deceive, And for my banished son I grieve. Kausalya, in my youthful prime Armed with my bow 1 wrought the crime, Proud of my skill, my name renowned, An archer prince who shoots by sound. The deed this hand unwitting wrought This misery on my soul has brought, As children seize the deadly cup And blindly drink the poison up. As the unreasoning man may be Charmed with the gay Palasa tree,. I unaware have reaped the fruit Of joying at a sound to shoot. As regent prince I shared the throne, Thou wast a maid to me unknown. The early Kain-time duly came, And strengthened love's delicious flame. The sun had drained the earth that lay All glowing neath the summer day, And to the gloomy clime had fled Where dwell the spirits of the dead.1 The fervent heat that moment ceased. The darkening clouds each hour increased And frogs and deer and peacocks all Rejoiced to see the torrents fall. Their bright wings heavy from the shower, The birds, new-bathed, had scarce the power To reach the branches of the trees Whose high tops swayed beneath the breeze.
The fallen rain, and falling still, Hung like a sheet on every hill, Till, with glad deer, each flooded steep Showed glorious as the mighty deep. The torrents down its wooded side Poured, some unstained, while others dyed 1 The southern region is the abode of Yama the Indian Pluto, and of departed spirits.
Canto LXI1I.
THE RAMAYAN.
Gold, ashy, silver, ochre, bore The tints of every mountain ore. In that sweet time, when all are pleased, My arrows and my bow I seized; Keen for the chase, in field or grove, Down Sarju's bank my car I drove. I longed with all my lawless will Some elephant by night to kill, Some buffalo that came to drink, Or tiger, at the river's brink. When all around was dark and still, I heard a pitcher slowly fill, And thought, obscured in deepest shade, An elephant the sound had made. I drew a shaft that glittered bright, Fell as a serpent's venomcd bite; I longed to lay the monster dead, And to the mark my arrow sped. Then in the calm of morning, clear A hermit's wailing smote my ear: ' Ah me, ah me,' he cried, and sank, Pierced by my arrow, on the bank. E'en as the weapon smote his side, I heard a human voice that cried: 'Why lights this shaft on one like me, A poor and harmless devotee? I came by night to fill my jar From this lone stream where no men are. Ah, who this deadly shaft has shot? Whom have I wronged, and knew it not? Why should a boy so harmless feel rl he vengeance of the winged steel? Or who should slay the guiltless son Of hermit sire who injures none, Who dwells retired in woods, and there Supports his.life on woodland fare?
Ah me, ah me, why am 1 slain, What booty will the murderer gain? In hermit coils I bind my hair, Coats made of skin and bark I wear. Ah, who the cruel deed can praise Whose idle toil no fruit repays, As impious as the wretch's crime Who dares his master's bed to climb? Nor does my parting spirit grieve But for the life which thus I leave: Alas, my mother and my sire, — I mourn for them when I expire. Ah me, that aged, helpless pair, Long cherished by my watchful care, How will it be with them this day When to the Five l I pass away? Pierced by the self -same dart we die, Mine aged mother, sire, and I. Whose mighty hand, whose lawless mind Has all the three to death consigned?'