The Ramayana Part 103

I tell thee, of the sons of earth, Of G.o.ds who boast celestial birth, Of beasts and birds and giant hosts, Of demiG.o.ds, Gandharvas, ghosts, Of awful fiends, O thou most fair, There lives not one whose heart would dare To meet thy Rama in the fight, Like Indra's self unmatched in might.

Such idle words thou must not say Thy Rama lives whom none may slay.

I will not, cannot leave thee here In the wild wood till he be near.

The mightiest strength can ne'er withstand His eager force, his vigorous hand.

No, not the triple world allied With all the immortal G.o.ds beside.

Dismiss thy fear, again take heart, Let all thy doubt and woe depart.

Thy lord, be sure, will soon be here And bring thee back that best of deer.

Not his, not his that mournful cry, Nor haply came it from the sky.

Some giant's art was busy there And framed a castle based on air.

A precious pledge art thou, consigned To me by him of n.o.blest mind, Nor can I fairest dame, forsake The pledge which Rama bade me take.

Upon our heads, O Queen, we drew The giants' hate when Rama slew Their chieftain Khara, and the shade Of Janasthan in ruin laid.

Through all this mighty wood they rove With varied cries from grove to grove On rapine bent they wander here: But O, dismiss thy causeless fear."

Bright flashed her eye as Lakshma? spoke And forth her words of fury broke Upon her truthful guardian, flung With bitter taunts that pierced and stung: "Shame on such false compa.s.sion, base Defiler of thy glorious race!

'Twere joyous sight I ween to thee My lord in direst strait to see.

Thou knowest Rama sore bested, Or word like this thou ne'er hadst said.

No marvel if we find such sin In rivals false to kith and kin.

Wretches like thee of evil kind, Concealing crime with crafty mind.

Thou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny, And leave my lord alone to die.

Has love of me unnerved thy hand, Or Bharat's art this ruin planned?

But be the treachery his or thine, In vain, in vain the base design.

For how shall I, the chosen bride Of dark-hued Rama, lotus-eyed, The queen who once called Rama mine, To love of other men decline?

Believe me, Lakshma?, Rama's wife Before thine eyes will quit this life, And not a moment will she stay If her dear lord have pa.s.sed away."

The lady's bitter speech, that stirred Each hair upon his frame, he heard.

With lifted hands together laid, His calm reply he gently made:

"No words have I to answer now: My deity, O Queen, art thou.

But 'tis no marvel, dame, to find Such lack of sense in womankind.

Throughout this world, O Maithil dame, Weak women's hearts are still the same.

Inconstant, urged by envious spite, They sever friends and hate the right.

I cannot brook, Videhan Queen, Thy words intolerably keen.

Mine ears thy fierce reproaches pain As boiling water seethes the brain.

And now to bear me witness all The dwellers in the wood I call, That, when with words of truth I plead, This harsh reply is all my meed.

Ah, woe is thee! Ah, grief, that still Eager to do my brother's will, Mourning thy woman's nature, I Must see thee doubt my truth and die.

I fly to Rama's side, and Oh, May bliss attend thee while I go!

May all attendant wood-G.o.ds screen Thy head from harm, O large-eyed Queen!

And though dire omens meet my sight And fill my soul with wild affright, May I return in peace and see The son of Raghu safe with thee!"

The child of Janak heard him speak, And the hot tear-drops down her cheek, Increasing to a torrent, ran, As thus once more the dame began: "O Lakshma?, if I widowed be G.o.davari's flood shall cover me, Or I will die by cord, or leap, Life weary, from yon rocky steep; Or deadly poison will I drink, Or 'neath the kindled flames will sink, But never, reft of Rama, can Consent to touch a meaner man."

The Maithil dame with many sighs, And torrents pouring from her eyes, The faithful Lakshma? thus addressed, And smote her hands upon her breast.

>Sumitra's son, o'erwhelmed by fears, Looked on the large-eyed queen: He saw that flood of burning tears, He saw that piteous mien.

He yearned sweet comfort to afford, He strove to soothe her pain; But to the brother of her lord She spoke no word again.

His reverent hands once more he raised, His head he slightly bent, Upon her face he sadly gazed, And then toward Rama went.

Canto XLVI. The Guest.

The angry Lakshma? scarce could brook Her bitter words, her furious look.

With dark forebodings in his breast To Rama's side he quickly pressed.

Then ten necked Rava? saw the time Propitious for his purposed crime.

A mendicant in guise he came And stood before the Maithil dame.

His garb was red, with tufted hair And sandalled feet a shade he bare, And from the fiend's left shoulder slung A staff and water-vessel hung.

Near to the lovely dame he drew, While both the chiefs were far from view, As darkness takes the evening air When neither sun nor moon is there.

He bent his eye upon the dame, A princess fair, of spotless fame: So might some baleful planet be Near Moon-forsaken Rohi?i.(495) As the fierce tyrant nearer drew, The trees in Janasthan that grew Waved not a leaf for fear and woe, And the hushed wind forbore to blow.

G.o.davari's waters as they fled, Saw his fierce eye-b.a.l.l.s flashing red, And from each swiftly-gliding wave A melancholy murmur gave.

Then Rava?, when his eager eye Beheld the longed-for moment nigh, In mendicant's apparel dressed Near to the Maithil lady pressed.

In holy guise, a fiend abhorred, He found her mourning for her lord.

Thus threatening draws Sanischar(496) nigh To Chitra(497) in the evening sky; Thus the deep well by gra.s.s concealed Yawns treacherous in the verdant field.

He stood and looked upon the dame Of Rama, queen of spotless fame With her bright teeth and each fair limb Like the full moon she seemed to him, Sitting within her leafy cot, Weeping for woe that left her not.

Thus, while with joy his pulses beat, He saw her in her lone retreat, Eyed like the lotus, fair to view In silken robes of amber hue.

Pierced to the core by Kama's dart He murmured texts with lying art, And questioned with a soft address The lady in her loneliness.

The fiend essayed with gentle speech The heart of that fair dame to reach, Pride of the worlds, like Beauty's Queen Without her darling lotus seen:

"O thou whose silken robes enfold A form more fair than finest gold, With lotus garland on thy head, Like a sweet spring with bloom o'erspread, Who art thou, fair one, what thy name, Beauty, or Honour, Fortune, Fame, Spirit, or nymph, or Queen of love Descended from thy home above?

Bright as the dazzling jasmine shine Thy small square teeth in level line.

Like two black stars aglow with light Thine eyes are large and pure and bright.

Thy charms of smile and teeth and hair And winning eyes, O thou most fair, Steal all my spirit, as the flow Of rivers mines the bank below.

How bright, how fine each flowing tress!

How firm those orbs beneath thy dress!

That dainty waist with ease were spanned, Sweet lady, by a lover's hand.

Mine eyes, O beauty, ne'er have seen G.o.ddess or nymph so fair of mien, Or bright Gandharva's heavenly dame, Or woman of so perfect frame.

In youth's soft prime thy years are few, And earth has naught so fair to view.

I marvel one like thee in face Should make the woods her dwelling-place.

Leave, lady, leave this lone retreat In forest wilds for thee unmeet, Where giants fierce and strong a.s.sume All shapes and wander in the gloom.

These dainty feet were formed to tread Some palace floor with carpets spread, Or wander in trim gardens where Each opening bud perfumes the air.

The richest robe thy form should deck, The rarest gems adorn thy neck, The sweetest wreath should bind thy hair, The n.o.blest lord thy bed should share.

Art thou akin, O fair of form, To Rudras,(498) or the G.o.ds of storm,(499) Or to the glorious Vasus(500)? How Can less than these be bright as thou?

But never nymph or heavenly maid Or G.o.ddess haunts this gloomy shade.

Here giants roam, a savage race; What led thee to so dire a place?

Here monkeys leap from tree to tree, And bears and tigers wander free; Here ravening lions prowl, and fell Hyenas in the thickets yell, And elephants infuriate roam, Mighty and fierce, their woodland home.

Dost thou not dread, so soft and fair, Tiger and lion, wolf and bear?

Hast thou, O beauteous dame, no fear In the wild wood so lone and drear?

Whose and who art thou? whence and why Sweet lady, with no guardian nigh, Dost thou this awful forest tread By giant bands inhabited?"

The praise the high-souled Rava? spoke No doubt within her bosom woke.

His saintly look and Brahman guise Deceived the lady's trusting eyes.

With due attention on the guest Her hospitable rites she pressed.

She bade the stranger to a seat, And gave him water for his feet.

The bowl and water-pot he bare, And garb which wandering Brahmans wear Forbade a doubt to rise.

Won by his holy look she deemed The stranger even as he seemed To her deluded eyes.

Intent on hospitable care, She brought her best of woodland fare, And showed her guest a seat.

She bade the saintly stranger lave His feet in water which she gave, And sit and rest and eat.

He kept his eager glances bent On her so kindly eloquent, Wife of the n.o.blest king; And longed in heart to steal her thence, Preparing by the dire offence, Death on his head to bring.

The lady watched with anxious face For Rama coming from the chase With Lakshma? by his side: But nothing met her wandering glance Save the wild forest's green expanse Extending far and wide.