Hindu literature Part 42

But demons haunt it, prompt to stay Each holy offering I would pay.

Be thine, O lion-lord, to kill These giants that delight in ill.

This day, beloved child, our feet Shall rest within the calm retreat; And know, thou chief of Raghu's line, My hermitage is also thine."

He spoke; and soon the anchorite, With joyous looks that beamed delight, With Rama and his brother stood Within the consecrated wood.

Soon as they saw the holy man, With one accord together ran The dwellers in the sacred shade, And to the saint their reverence paid-- And offered water for his feet, The gift of honor, and a seat; And next with hospitable care They entertained the princely pair.

The royal tamers of their foes Rested awhile in sweet repose-- Then to the chief of hermits sued Standing in suppliant att.i.tude:-- "Begin, O best of saints, we pray, Initiatory rites to-day.

This Perfect Grove shall be anew Made perfect, and thy words be true."

Then, thus addressed, the holy man, The very glorious sage, began The high preliminary rite, Restraining sense and appet.i.te.

Calmly the youths that night reposed, And rose when morn her light disclosed-- Their morning worship paid, and took Of l.u.s.tral water from the brook.

Thus purified they breathed the prayer, Then greeted Visvamitra where As celebrant he sate beside The flame with sacred oil supplied.

CANTO x.x.xII

VISVaMITRA'S SACRIFICE

That conquering pair, of royal race, Skilled to observe due time and place-- To Kusik's hermit son addressed, In timely words, their meet request:-- "When must we, lord, we pray thee tell, Those Rovers of the Night repel?

Speak, lest we let the moment fly, And pa.s.s the due occasion by."

Thus longing for the strife, they prayed, And thus the hermit's answer made:-- "Till the fifth day be come and past, O Raghu's sons, your watch must last.

The saint his Diksha has begun, And all that time will speak to none."

Soon as the steadfast devotees Had made reply in words like these, The youths began, disdaining sleep, Six days and nights their watch to keep-- The warrior pair who tamed the foe, Unrivalled benders of the bow, Kept watch and ward unwearied still To guard the saint from scathe and ill.

Twas now the sixth returning day, The hour foretold had pa.s.sed away.

Then Rama cried: "O Lakshman, now!

Firm, watchful, resolute be thou.

The fiends as yet have kept afar From the pure grove in which we are; Yet waits us, ere the day shall close, Dire battle with the demon foes."

While thus spoke Rama, borne away By longing for the deadly fray, See! bursting from the altar came The sudden glory of the flame; Round priest and deacon, and upon Gra.s.s, ladles, flowers, the splendor shone-- And the high rite, in order due, With sacred texts began anew.

But then a loud and fearful roar Re-echoed through the sky; And like vast clouds that shadow o'er The heavens in dark July, Involved in gloom of magic might Two fiends rushed on amain-- Maricha, Rover of the Night, Suvahu, and their train.

As on they came in wild career Thick blood in rain they shed; And Rama saw those things of fear Impending overhead. Then, soon as those accursed two Who showered down blood he spied, Thus to his brother brave and true Spoke Rama lotus-eyed:-- "Now, Lakshman, thou these fiends shalt see, Man-eaters, foul of mind, Before my mortal weapon flee Like clouds before the wind."

He spoke. An arrow, swift as thought, Upon his bow he pressed, And smote, to utmost fury wrought, Maricha on the breast.

Deep in his flesh the weapon lay Winged by the mystic spell, And, hurled a hundred leagues away, In ocean's flood he fell.

Then Rama, when he saw the foe Convulsed and mad with pain 'Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow, To Lakshman spoke again:-- "See, Lakshman, see! this mortal dart That strikes a numbing chill, Hath struck him senseless with the smart, But left him breathing still.

But these who love the evil way And drink the blood they spill, Rejoicing holy rites to stay, Fierce plagues, my hand shall kill."

He seized another shaft, the best, Aglow with living flame; It struck Suvahu on the chest, And dead to earth he came.

Again a dart, the Wind-G.o.d's own, Upon his string he laid, And all the demons were overthrown-- The saints no more afraid.

When thus the fiends were slain in fight, Disturbers of each holy rite, Due honor by the saints was paid To Rama for his wondrous aid:-- So Indra is adored when he Has won some glorious victory.

Success at last the rite had crowned, And Visvamitra gazed around-- And seeing every side at rest, The son of Raghu thus addressed:-- "My joy, O Prince, is now complete-- Thou hast obeyed my will: Perfect before, this calm retreat Is now more perfect still."

CANTO x.x.xIII

THE SONE

Their task achieved, the princes spent That night with joy and full content.

Ere yet the dawn was well displayed Their morning rites they duly paid-- And sought, while yet the light was faint, The hermits and the mighty saint.

They greeted first that holy sire Resplendent like the burning fire, And then with n.o.ble words began Their sweet speech to the sainted man:-- "Here stand, O lord, thy servants true-- Command what thou wouldst have us do."

The saints, by Visvamitra led, To Rama thus in answer said:-- "Janak, the king who rules the land Of fertile Mithila, has planned A n.o.ble sacrifice, and we Will thither go the rite to see.

Thou, Prince of men, with us shalt go, And there behold the wondrous bow-- Terrific, vast, of matchless might, Which, splendid at the famous rite, The G.o.ds a.s.sembled gave the King.

No giant, fiend, or G.o.d can string That gem of bows, no heavenly bard; Then, sure, for man the task were hard.

When lords of earth have longed to know The virtue of that wondrous bow, The strongest sons of kings in vain Have tried the mighty cord to strain.

This famous bow thou there shalt view, And wondrous rites shalt witness too.

The high-souled king who lords it o'er The realm of Mithila, of yore Gained from the G.o.ds this bow, the price Of his imperial sacrifice.

Won by the rite the glorious prize Still in his royal palace lies-- Laid up in oil of precious scent With aloes-wood and incense blent."

Then Rama answering, "Be it so,"

Made ready with the rest to go.

The saint himself was now prepared, But ere beyond the grove he fared, He turned him and in words like these Addressed the sylvan deities:-- "Farewell! each holy rite complete, I leave the hermits' perfect seat: To Ganga's northern sh.o.r.e I go Beneath Himalaya's peaks of snow."

With reverent steps he paced around The limits of the holy ground-- And then the mighty saint set forth And took his journey to the north.

His pupils, deep in Scripture's page, Followed behind the holy sage, And servants from the sacred grove A hundred wains for convoy drove.

The very birds that winged that air, The very deer that harbored there, Forsook the glade and leafy brake And followed for the hermits' sake.

They travelled far, till in the west The sun was speeding to his rest, And made, their portioned journey o'er, Their halt on Sona's distant sh.o.r.e.

The hermits bathed when sank the sun, And every rite was duly done-- Oblations paid to Fire, and then Sate round their chief the holy men.

Rama and Lakshman lowly bowed In reverence to the hermit crowd-- And Rama, having sate him down Before the saint of pure renown, With humble palms together laid His eager supplication made:-- "What country, O my lord, is this, Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?

Deign fully, O thou mighty Seer, To tell me, for I long to hear."

Moved by the prayer of Rama, he Told forth the country's history.

CANTO x.x.xIV

BRAHMADATTA

A king of Brahma's seed who bore The name of Kusa reigned of yore.

Just, faithful to his vows, and true, He held the good in honor due.

His bride, a queen of n.o.ble name, Of old Vidarbha's monarchs came.

Like their own father, children four, All valiant boys, the lady bore.

In glorious deeds each nerve they strained, And well their Warrior part sustained.

To them most just, and true, and brave, Their father thus his counsel gave:-- "Beloved children, ne'er forget Protection is a prince's debt: The n.o.ble work at once begin, High virtue and her fruits to win."

The youths, to all the people dear, Received his speech with willing ear; And each went forth his several way, Foundations of a town to lay.

Kusamba, prince of high renown, Was builder of Kausambi's town, And Kusanabha, just and wise, Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise.

Amurtarajas chose to dwell In Dharmaranya's citadel, And Vasu bade his city fair The name of Girivraja bear.

This fertile spot whereon we stand Was once the high-souled Vasu's land.

Behold! as round we turn our eyes, Five lofty mountain peaks arise.

See! bursting from her parent hill, Sumagadhi, a lovely rill, Bright gleaming as she flows between The mountains, like a wreath is seen-- And then through Magadh's plains and groves With many a fair meander roves.

And this was Vasu's old domain, The fertile Magadh's broad champaign, Which smiling fields of tilth adorn And diadem with golden corn.

The queen Ghritachi, nymph most fair, Married to Kusanabha, bare A hundred daughters lovely faced, With every charm and beauty graced.

It chanced the maidens, bright and gay As lightning-flashes on a day Of rain-time, to the garden went With song and play and merriment-- And there in gay attire they strayed, And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.

The G.o.d of Wind who roves at will All places, as he lists, to fill, Saw the young maidens dancing there, Of faultless shape and mien most fair-- "I love you all, sweet girls," he cried, "And each shall be my darling bride.

Forsake, forsake your mortal lot, And gain a life that withers not.

A fickle thing is youth's brief span, And more than all is mortal man.

Receive unending youth, and be Immortal, O my loves, with me,"

The hundred girls, to wonder stirred, The wooing of the Wind-G.o.d heard, Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside, And with one voice they thus replied:-- "O mighty Wind, free spirit who All life pervadest, through and through-- Thy wondrous power we maidens know; Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so?

Our sire is Kusanabha, King; And we, forsooth, have charms to bring A G.o.d to woo us from the skies; But honor first we maidens prize.

Far may the hour, we pray, be hence, When we, O thou of little sense, Our truthful father's choice refuse, And for ourselves our husbands choose.

Our honored sire our lord we deem, He is to us a G.o.d supreme-- And they to whom his high decree May give us shall our husbands be."