When I, by love of duty stirred, That touching lamentation heard, 1 The five elements of which the body consists, and to which it returns, Pierced to the heart by sudden woe, I threw to earth my shafts and bow.
My heart was full of grief and dread As swiftly to the place I sped, Where, by my arrow wounded sore, A hermit lay on Sarju's shore.
His matted hair was all unbound, His pitcher empty on the ground.
And by the fatal arrow pained, He lay with dust and gore distained.
I stood confounded and amazed: His dying eyes to mine he raised, And spoke this speech in accents stern, As though his light my soul would burn: ' How have I wronged thee, King, that I Struck by thy mortal arrow die?
The wood my home, this jar I brought, And water for my parents sought This one keen shaft that strikes me through Slays sire and aged mother too.
Feeble and blind, in helpless pain, They wait for me and thirst in vain.
They with parched lips their pangs must bear, And hope will end in blank despair. Ah me, there seems no fruit in store For holy zeal or Scripture lore, Or else ere now my sire would know That his dear son is lying low. Yet, if my mournful fate he knew, What could his arm so feeble do? The tree, firm-rooted, ne'er may be The guardian of a stricken tree. Haste to my father, and relate While time allows, my sudden fate, Lest he consume thee, as the fire Burns up the forest, in his ire. This little path, O King, pursue: My father's cot thou soon wilt view. There sue for pardon to the sage. Lest he should curse thee in his rage. First from the wound extract the dart That kills me with its deadly smart, E'en as the flushed impetuoiis tide Eats through the river's yielding side.1 I feared to draw the arrow out, And pondered thus in painful doubt; 4 Now tortured by the shaft he lies, But if I draw It 'forth he dies.' Helpless I stood, faint, sorely grieved: The hermit's son my thought perceived; As one o'ercome by direst pain He scarce had strength to speak again, With writhing limb and struggling breath, Nearer and ever nearer death: 4 My senses undisturbed remain, And fortitude has conquered pain: Now from one fear thy soul be freed, Thy hand has made no Brahman bleed. Let not this pang thy bosom wring: No twice- born youth am I, 0 King, THE RAMAYAM.
Boole 11 For of a Vaisya sire I came, Who wedded with a &ftdr& dame.'
These words the boy could scarcely say, As tortured by the shaft he lay, Twisting his helpless body round, Then trembling senseless on the ground. Then from his bleeding side I drew The rankling shaft that pierced him through.
With death's last fear my face he eyed, And, rich in store of penance, died."'
CANTO LXIV.
DAgARATHA'S DEATH.
The son of Raghu to his queen Thus far described the unequalled scene, And, as the hermit's death he rued, The mournful story thus renewed: 'The deed my heedless hand had wrought Perplexed me with remorseful thought, And all alone I pondered still How kindly deed might salve the ill. The pitcher from the ground I took, And filled it from that fairest brook, Then, by the path the hermit showed, I reached his sainted sire's abode. I came, I saw: the aged pair, Feeble and blind, were sitting there, Like birds with clipped wings, side by side, With none their helpless steps to guide. Their idle hours the twain beguiled With talk of their returning child, And still the cheering hope enjoyed, The hope, alas, by me destroyed. Then spoke the sage, as drawing near The sound of footsteps reached his ear: * Dear son, the water quickly bring; Why hast thou made this tarrying? Thy mother thirsts, and thou hast played, And bathing in the brook delayed. She weeps because thou earnest not; Haste, O my son, within the cot. If she or I have ever done A thing to pain thee, dearest son, Dismiss the memory from thy mind: A hermit thou, be good and kind. On thee our lives, our all, depend: Thou art thy friendless parents' friend. The eyeless couple's eye art thou: Tli en why so cold and silent now? ' With sobbing voice and bosom wrung I scarce could move my faltering tongue, And with my spirit tilled with dread I looked upon the sage, and said, While mind, and sense, and nerve I strung To fortify my trembling tongue, And let the aged hermit know Hia son's sad fate, my fear and woe; 1 High-minded^ Saint, not I thy child, A warrior, Dasaratha styled. I bear a grievous sorrow's weight Born of a deed which good men hate. My lord, I came to Sarju's shore, And in my hand my bow I bore For elephant or beast of chase That seeks by night his drinking place. There from tiie stream a sound I heard As if a jar the water stirred, An elephant, I thought, was nigh: I aimed, and let an arrow fly. Swift to the place I made my way, And there a wounded hermit, lay Gasping for breath: the deadly dart Stood quivering in his youthful heart. I hastened near with pain oppressed; He faltered out his last behest, And quickly, as he bade me do, From his pierced side the shaft I drew. I drew the arrow from the rent, And up to heaven the hermit went. Lamenting, as from earth he passed, His aged parents to the last. Thus, unaware, the deed was done: My hand, unwitting, killed thy son. For what remains, O, let me win Thy pardon for my heedless sin.'
As the sad tale of sin I told. The hermit's grief was uncontrolled; With flooded eyes, and son-row- faint, Thus spake the venerable saint: I stood with hand to hand applied, And listened as he spoke and sighed: ' If thou, 0 King, hadst left unsaid By thine own tongue this tale of dread, • Thy head for hideous guilt accursed Had in a thousand pieces burst. A hermit's blood by warrior spilt, In such a case, with purposed guilt, Down from his high estate would bring Even the thunder's mighty King. And he a dart who concious sends Against the devotee who spends His pure life by the law of Heaven — That sinner's head will split in seven. Thou livest, for thy heedless hand Has wrought a deed thou hast not planned, Else thou and and all of Raghu's line Had perished by this act of thine. Now guide us.' thus the hermit said, ' Forth to the spot where he lies dead. Guide us, this day, 0 Monarch, we For the last time our son would see: The hermit dress of skin he wore Kent from his limbs distained with gore j His senseless body lying slain, His soul in Yarna's dark domain.'
Alone the mourning pair I led, Their souls with woe disquieted, And let the danie and hermit lay anto THE RAMAYAN.
Their hands upon the breathless clay, The fattier touched his son, and pressed he body to his aged breast; Then falling by the dead boy's side, He lifted up his voice, and cried: Hast thoti no word, my child, to say? 'No greeting for thy sire to-day? Why art thou angry, darling? why Wilt thou upon the cold earth lie? If thou, my son. art wroth with me, Here, duteous child, thy mother see. What! no embrace for me, my son? No word of tender love — not one? Whose gentle voice, so soft and clear, Soothing my spirit, shall I hear When evening comes, with accents sweet Scripture or ancient lore repeat? Who, having fed the sacred fire, And duly bathed, as texts require, Will cheer, when evening rites are done, The father mourning for his son? Who will the daily meal provide For the poor wretch who lacks a guide, Feeding the helpless with the best Berries and roots, like some dear guest? How can these hands subsistence find For thy poor mother, old and blind? The wretched votaress how sustain, Who mourns her child in ceaseless pain? Stay yet a while, niy darling, stay, Nor Uy to Yama's realm to-day. To-morrow I thy sire and she Who bare thee, child, will go with thee.1 Then when I look on Yama, I To great Vivasvat's son will cry: ' Hear, King of justice, and restore Our child to feed us, I implore. Lord of the world, of mighty fame, Faithful and just, admit my claim, And grant this single boon to free My soul from fear, to one like me.'
Because, my son, untouched by stain, By sinful ha-nds thou fallest slain, Win, through thy truth, the sphere where those Who die by hostile darts repose. Seek the blest home prepared for all The valiant who in battle fall, Who face the foe and scorn to yield, In glory dying on the field. Rise to the heaven where Dhundhumar And Nahush, mighty heroes, are, Where Janamejay arid the blest Dilipa, Sagar, Saivya, rest: 1 So dying York cries over the body of Suffolk: * Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! My soul shall thine keep company to heaven Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast.' King Henry F, Act IV. 6, Home of all virtuous spirits, earned By fervent rites and Scripture learned: By those whose sacred tires have glowed, Whose liberal hands have fields bestowed: By givers of a thousand cows, By lovers of one faithful spouse: By those who serve their masters well, And cast away this earthly shell. None of my race can ever know The bitter pain of lasting woe. But doomed to that dire fate is he Whose guilty hand has slaughtered thee.'
Thus with wild tears the aged saint Made many a time his piteous plaint, Then with his wife began to shed The funeral water for the dead. But in a shape celestial clad, Won by the merits of the lad, The spirit from the body brake And to the mourning parents spake: 1 A glorious home in realms above Rewards my care and filial love. You, honoured parents, soon shall be Partakers of that home with me.'
He spake, and swiftly mounting high, With Indra near him, to the sky On a bright car, with flame that glowed, Sublime the duteous hermit rode.
The father, with his consort's aid, The funeral rites with water paid, And thus his speech to me renewed Who stood in suppliant attitude: ' Slay me this day, O, slay me, King, For death no longer has a sting. Childless am I: thy dart has done To death my dear, my only son. Because the boy I loved so well Slain by thy heedless arrow fell, My curse upon thy soul shall press With bitter woe and heaviness. I mourn a slaughtered child, and thou Shalt feel the pangs that kill me now. Bereft and suffering e'en as I, So shalt thou mourn thy son, and die. Thy hand unwitting dealt the blow That laid a holy hermit low, And distant, therefore, is the time When thou shalt suffer for the crime. The hour sh all come when, crushed by woea Like these I feel, thy life shall close: A debt to pay in after days Like his the priestly fee who pays.'
This curse on me the hermit laid, Nor yet his tears and groans were stayed. Then on the pire their bodies cast The pair; and straight to heaven they As in sad thought I pondered long Back to my memory came the wrong Done in wild youth, O lady dear, When 'twas my boast to shoot by ear.
THE RAM AY AN.
Boole II.
The deed has borne the fruit, which now Hangs ripe upon the bending bough: Thus dainty meats the palate please, And lure the weak to swift disease. Now on my soul return with dread The words that noble hermit said, That I for a dear son should grieve, And of the woe my life should leave.'
Thus spake the king with many a tear; Then to his wife he cried in fear: 4 1 cannot see thee, love; but lay Thy gentle hand in mine, I pray. Ah me, if Rama touched me thus, If once, returning home to us, He bade me wealth and lordship give, Then, so I think, my soul would live. Unlike myself, unjust and mean Have been my ways with him, my Queen, But like himself is all that he, My noble son, has done to me. His son, though far from right he stray, What prudent sire would cast away? What banished son would check his ire, Nor speak reproaches of his sire? I see thee not: these eyes j^row blind, And memory quits my troubled mind. Angels of Death are round me: they Summon my soul with speed away. What woe more grievous can there be, That, when from light and life I flee. I may not. ere I part, behold My virtuous Rama, true and bold? Grief for my son, the brave and true, Whose joy it was my will -to do, Dries up my breath, as summer dries The last drop in the pool that lies, Not men, but blessed Gods, are they Whose eyes shall see his face that day; See him, when fourteen years are past, With earrings decked return at last. My fainting mind forgets to think: Low and more low my spirits sink. Each from its seat, my senses steal: I cannot hear, or taste, or feel. This lethargy of soul o'ercornes Each organ, and its function numbs: So when the oil begins to fail, The torch's rays grow faint and pale. This flood of woe caused by this hand Destroys me helpless and unmanned, Resistless as the floods that bore A passage through the river shore. Ah Kaghu's son, ah mighty-armed, By whom my cares were soothed and charmed, My son in whom I took delight, Now^vanished from thy father's sight 1 Kausalya ah, I cannot see; Sumitra, gentle devotee! Alas, Kaikeyi, cruel dame, My bitter foe, thy father's shame!'
Kausalya and Sumitra kept Their watch beside him as he wept. And Dasaratha moaned and sighed, And grieving for his darling died.
CANTO LXV. THE WOMEN'S LAMENT.
And now the night had past away, And brightly dawned another day: The minstrels, trained to play and sing, Flocked to the chamber of the king: Bards, who their gayest raiment wore, And heralds famed for ancient lore: And singers, with their songs of praise, Made music in their several ways. There as they poured their blessings choice, And hailed their king with hand and voice, Their praises with a swelling roar Echoed through court and corridor. Then as the bards his glory sang, From beaten palms loud answer rang, As glad applauders clapped their hands, And told his deeds in distant lauds. The swelling concert woke a throng Of sleeping birds to life and song: Some in the branches of the trees, Some caged in halls and galleries. Nor was the soft string music mute; The gentle whisper of the lute, And blessings sung by singers skilled The palace of the monarcli filled. Eunuchs and dames of life unstain'ed, Each in the arts of waiting trained, Drew near attentive as before, And crowded to the chamber door: These skilful when aud how to shed The lustral stream o'er limb and head, Others with golden ewers stood Of water stained with sandal wood. And many a maid, pure, young, and fair, Her load of early offerings bare, Cups of the flood which all revere, And sacred things, and toilet gear. Each several thing was duly brought As rule of old observance taught, And lucky signs on each impressed Stamped it the fairest and the best. There anxious, in their long array, All waited till the shine of day: But when the king nor rose nor spoke, Doubt and alarm within them woke. Forthwith the dames, by duty led, Attendants on the monarch's bed, Within the royal chamber pressed To wake their master from his rest. Skilled in the lore of dreaming, they First touched the bed on which he lay. But none replied: no sound was heard, Cam ,to LXVL THE RAM AY AN.
Nor hand, nor head, nor body stirred. They trembled, and their dread increased, Fearing his breath of life had ceased, And (lending low their heads, they shook Like the. tali reeds that fringe the brook. In doubt and terror down they knelt, Looked on his fare, his cold hand felt, And then the gloomy truth appeared Of all their hearts had darkly feared. Kauialyaand Sumitni, worn With weeping for their sons, forlorn, Woke not, but lay in slumber deep And still as death's unending sleep. Jiowed down by grief, her colour lied, Her wonted lustre dull and dead, Kansalya shone not, like a, star Obscured behind a cloudy bar. lieside the king's her couch was spread, And next was Queen Sumitra's bed, Who shone no more with beauty's glow, Her >'ace bedewed with tears of woe. There lapped in sleep each wearied queen, There as in sleep, the. king was seen; And swift the troubling thought came o'er Their spirits that IK* breathed no more. At once with wailing loud and high The matrons shrieked a bitter cry, As widowed elephants bewail Their dead lord in the woody vale. At the loud shriek that round them rang, Kausalya and Snmitra sprang Awakened from their beds, with eyes Wide open in their first surprise. Quick to the monarch's side they came, And saw and touehed his lifeless frame; One cry, () husband! forth they sent, And prostrate to the ground they went. The king of Kosal's daughter1 there Writ bed, with the dust on limb and hair, Lustreless, as a, star might lie Hurled downward from the glorious sky. When the king's voice in death was stilled, The women who the chamber filled, Saw, like a widow elephant slain, Kausalya prostrate in her pain. Then a.li the, monarch's ladies led 15 y Queen Kaikeyi at (heir head, '.Poured forth their tears, and weeping so, Sank on the ground, consumed by woe. The cry of grief so long and loud Went up from all the royal crowd, That, doubled by the matron train, It made the palace ring again. Killed with dark fear and eager eyes, Anxiet; and wild surmise; Echoing with the cries of grief Of sorrowing friends who mourned their chief, 1 Kausalya, daughter of the kin^ of an- other Koyiil.
Dejected, pnlc with deep distress, Miii-led from their height of happiness: Such was the look the palace wore VV here lay the king who breathed no more.
CANTO LXVI.
THE EMBALMING.
Kausalya's eyes with tears o'erflowed, Weighed down by varied sorrows' load; ( MI her dead lord her ga/.e she bent, Who lav like fire whose might is Spent Like the great deep with waters dry, ' Or like the clouded sun on high. Then on her lap she laid his head, And on Kaikeyi looked and said: 'Triumphant now enjoy thy reign Without a thorn thy side to pain. Thou hast pursued thy single aim, And killed the king, () wicked dame. Ear from my sight my llama Hies, My perished lord has sought the skies. No friend, no hope my life to cheer, I cannot tread the dark path here. ' Who would forsake her husband, who That <*od to whom her love is due. And wish to live one hour, but, she' Whose heart no duty owns, like thee? The ravenous sees no fault: his greed Will e'en on poison blindly feed. Kaikeyi, through a, hump-back maid, This royal house in death has |:,,j,i. King J'anak, with his queen, will hear Heart-rent like me the tidings drear Of Kama, banished by the king, Urged by her impious counselling. No son has he, his age is great, And sinking with the double weight, He for his darling child will pine, And pierced with woe his life resign. Sprung from Videha's monarch, she A sad and lovely devotee, Koaming the wood, unmeet for woe, Will toil and trouble undergo.
She in the gloomy night with fear The cries of beast and bird will hear, And trembling in her wild alarm Will cling to Kama's sheltering arm. Ah, little knows my duteous sou That I am widowed and undone — My Kama of the lotus eye, Gone hence, gone hence, alas, to die. Now, as a living wife and true, I, e'en this day, will perish too: Around his form these arms will throw, And to the fire with him will go.'
Clasping her husband's lifeless clay A while the weeping votaress lav, Till chamberlains removed her thence THE RAM AY AN.
Boole 1L O'ercome by sorrow's violence. Then in a cask of oil they laid Him who in life the world had swayed, And finished, as the lords desired, All rites for parted souls required. The lords, all- wise, refused to burn The monarch ere his son's return; So for a while the cropse they set Embalmed in oil, and waited yet. The women heard: no doubt remained, And wildly for the king they plained. With gushing tears that drowned each eye Wildly they waved their arms on high, And each her mangling nails impressed Beep in her head and knee and breast: * Of Rama reft, — who ever spake The sweetest words the heart to take, Who firmly to the truth would cling,— Why dost thou leave us, mighty King? How can the consorts thou hast left Widowed, of Raghu's son bereft, Live with our foe Kaikeyi near, . The wicked queen we hate and fear? She threw away the king, her spite Drove Earn a forth and Lakshman's might, And gentle Sita: how will she Spare any, whosoe'er it be? ' Oppressed with sorrow, tear-distained, The royal women thus complained. Like night when not a star appears, Like a sad widow drowned in tears, Ayodhya's city, dark and dim, lleft of her lord was sad for him. When thus for woe the king to heaven had tied, And still on earth his lovely wives remained. With dying light the sun to rest had sped, And night triumphant o'er the lands- cape reigned.
CANTO LXVII.
THE PRAISE OF KINGS.
That night of sorrow passed away, And rose again the God of Day.
Then all the twice-born peers of state Together met for high debate.
Javali, lord of mighty fame, And Gautarn, and Katyayan came, And Markandeya'a reverend age, And Vamadeva, glorious sage: Sprung from Mudgalya's seed the one, The other ancient Kasyap's son.
With lesser lords these Brahmans each 8poke in his turn his several speech, And turning to Vasish^ha, best Of household priests, him thus addressed: The night of bitter woe has past, Which seemed a hundred years to last, Our king, in sorrow for his son, Reunion with the Five has won.
His soul is where the Blessed are, While Rama roams in woods afar, Ai.d Lakshruan, bright in glorious deeds, Goes where his well-loved broiher leads.
And Bharat and &atrughna, they Who smite their foes in battle fray, Far in the realm of Kekaya stay, Where their maternal grandsire's care Keeps Rajagriha's city fair.
Let one of old Ikshvaku's race Obtain this day the sovereign's place, Or havoc and destruction straight Our kingless land will devastate.
In kingless lands no thunder's voice.
No lightning wreaths the heart rejoice, Nor does Parjanya's heavenly rain Descend upon the burning plain.
Where none is king, the sower's hand Casts not the seed upon the land; The son against the father strives, And husbands fail to rule their wives.
In kingless realms no princes call Their friends to meet in crowded hall; No joyful citizens resort To garden trim or sacred court.
In kingless realms no Twice-born care To sacrifice with text and prayer, Nor Brahmans, who their vows maintain, The great solemnities ordain.
The joys of happier days have ceased: No gathering, festival, or feast Together calls the merry throng Delighted with the play and song.
In kingless lands it ne'er is well With sons of trade who buy and sell: No men who pleasant tales repeat Delight the crowd with stories sweet.
In kingless realms- we ne'er behold Young maidens decked with gem sand gold, Flock to the gardens blithe and gay To spend their evening hours in play.
No lover in the flying car Hides with his love to woods afar.
In kingless lands no wealthy swain Who keeps the herd arid reaps the grain, Lies sleeping, blest with ample store, Securely near his open door.
Upon the royal roads we see l^o tusked elephant roaming free, Of three-score years, whose head and neck Sweet tinkling bells of silver deck.
We hear no more the glad applause When his strong bow each rival draws, No clap of hands, no eager cries That cheer each martial exercise.
In kingless realms no merchant bands Who travel forth to distant lands, With precious wares their wagons load, Canto LX VII L THE RAM AY AN.
And fear no danger on the road, No sage secure in self-control. Brooding on God with mind and soul, In lonely wanderings finds his home Where'er at eve his feet may roam. In Kingless realms no man is sure He holds his life and wealth secure. In kingless lands no warriors smite The foeman's host in glorious right. In kingless lands the wise no more, Well trained in Scripture's holy lore, In shady groves and gardens meet To argue in their calm retreat. No longer, in religious fear, Do they who pious vows revere, Bring dainty cates and wreaths of flowers As offerings to the heavenly powers. No longer, bright as trees in spring, Shine forth the children of the king Resplendent in the people's eyes With aloe wood and sandal dyes. A brook where water once has been, A grove where grass no more is green, Kine with no herdsman's guiding hand- So wretched is a kingless land. The car its waving banner rears, Banner of fire the smoke appears: Our king, the banner of our pride, A God with Gods is glorified. In kingless lands no law is known, And none may call his wealth his own, Each preys on each from hour to hour, As fish the weaker fish devour. Then fearless, atheists overleap The bounds of right the godly keep, And when no royal powers restrain, Preeminence and lordship gain.