The Ramayana Part 122

Then, wood with wood engendering,(554) came Neath his deft hands the kindled flame.

Between the chiefs that fire he placed With wreaths of flowers and worship graced.

And round its blazing glory went The friends with slow steps reverent.

Thus each to other pledged and bound In solemn league new transport found, And bent upon his dear ally The gaze he ne'er could satisfy.

"Friend of my soul art thou: we share Each other's joy, each other's care;"

Thus in the bliss that thrilled his breast Sugriva Raghu's son addressed.

From a high Sal a branch he tore Which many a leaf and blossom bore, And the fine twigs beneath them laid A seat for him and Rama made.

Then Hanuman with joyous mind, Son of the G.o.d who rules the wind, To Lakshma? gave, his seat to be, The gay branch of a Sandal tree.

Then King Sugriva with his eyes Still trembling with the sweet surprise Of the great joy he could not hide, To Raghu's n.o.blest scion cried: "O Rama, racked with woe and fear, Spurned by my foes, I wander here.

Reft of my spouse, forlorn I dwell Here in my forest citadel.

Or wild with terror and distress Roam through the distant wilderness.

Vext by my brother Bali long My soul has borne the scathe and wrong.

Do thou, whose virtues all revere, Release me from my woe and fear.

From dire distress thy friend to free Is a high task and worthy thee."

He spoke, and Raghu's son who knew All sacred duties men should do.

The friend of justice, void of guile, Thus answered with a gentle smile: "Great Vanar, friends who seek my aid Still find their trust with fruit repaid.

Bali, thy foe, who stole away Thy wife this vengeful hand shall slay.

These shafts which sunlike flash and burn, Winged with the feathers of the hern, Each swift of flight and sure and dread, With even knot and pointed head, Fierce as the crashing fire-bolt sent By him who rules the firmament,(555) Shall reach thy wicked foe and like Infuriate serpents hiss and strike.

Thou, Vanar King, this day shalt see The foe who long has injured thee Lie, like a shattered mountain, low, Slain by the tempest of my bow."

Thus Rama spake: Sugriva heard, And mighty joy his bosom stirred: As thus his champion he addressed: "Now by thy favour, first and best Of heroes, shall thy friend obtain His realm and darling wife again Recovered from the foe.

Check thou mine elder brother's might; That ne'er again his deadly spite May rob me of mine ancient right, Or vex my soul with woe."

The league was struck, a league to bring To Sita fiends, and Vanar king(556) Apportioned bliss and bale.

Through her left eye quick throbbings shot,(557) Glad signs the lady doubted not, That told their hopeful tale.

The bright left eye of Bali felt An inauspicious throb that dealt A deadly blow that day.

The fiery left eyes of the crew Of demons felt the throb, and knew The herald of dismay.

Canto VI. The Tokens.

With joy that sprang from hope restored To Rama spake the Vanar lord: "I know, by wise Hanuman taught, Why thou the lonely wood hast sought.

Where with thy brother Lakshma? thou Hast sojourned, bound by hermit vow; Have heard how Sita, Janak's child, Was stolen in the pathless wild, How by a roving Rakshas she Weeping was reft from him and thee; How, bent on death, the giant slew The vulture king, her guardian true, And gave thy widowed breast to know A solitary mourner's woe.

But soon, dear Prince, thy heart shall be From every trace of sorrow free; For I thy darling will restore, Lost like the prize of holy lore.(558) Yea, though in heaven the lady dwell, Or prisoned in the depths of h.e.l.l, My friendly care her way shall track And bring thy ransomed darling back.

Let this my promise soothe thy care, Nor doubt the words I truly swear.

Saints, fiends, and dwellers of the skies Shall find thy wife a bitter prize, Like the rash child who rues too late The treacherous lure of poisoned cate.

No longer, Prince, thy loss deplore: Thy darling wife will I restore.

'Twas she I saw: my heart infers That shrinking form was doubtless hers, Which gaint Rava?, fierce and dread, Bore swiftly through the clouds o'erhead Still writhing in his strict embrace Like helpless queen of serpent race,(559) And from her lips that sad voice came Shrieking thine own and Lakshma?'s name.

High on a hill she saw me stand With comrades twain on either hand.

Her outer robe to earth she threw, And with it sent her anklets too.

We saw the glittering tokens fall, We found them there and kept them all.

These will I bring: perchance thine eyes The treasured spoils will recognize."

He ceased: then Raghu's son replied To the glad tale, and eager cried: "Bring them with all thy speed: delay No more, dear friend, but haste away."

Thus Rama spoke. Sugriva hied Within the mountain's caverned side, Impelled by love that stirred each thought The precious tokens quickly brought, And said to Raghu's son: Behold This garment and these rings of gold.

In Rama's hand with friendly haste The jewels and the robe he placed.

Then, like the moon by mist a.s.sailed, The tear-dimmed eyes of Rama failed; That burst of woe unmanned his frame, Woe sprung from pa.s.sion for his dame, And with his manly strength o'erthrown, He fell and cried, Ah me! mine own!

Again, again close to his breast The ornaments and robe he pressed, While the quick pants that shook his frame As from a furious serpent came.

On his dear brother standing nigh He turned at length his piteous eye; And, while his tears increasing ran, In bitter wail he thus began: "Look, brother, and behold once more The ornaments and robe she wore, Dropped while the giant bore away In cruel arras his struggling prey, Dropped in some quiet spot, I ween, Where the young gra.s.s was soft and green; For still untouched by spot or stain Their former beauty all retain."

He spoke with many a tear and sigh, And thus his brother made reply: "The bracelets thou hast fondly shown, And earrings, are to me unknown, But by long service taught I greet The anklets of her honoured feet."(560)

Then to Sugriva Rama, best Of Raghu's sons, these words addressed:

"Say to what quarter of the sky The cruel fiend was seen to fly, Bearing afar my captured wife, My darling dearer than my life.

Speak, Vanar King, that I may know Where dwells the cause of all my woe; The fiend for whose transgression all The giants by this hand shall fall.

He who the Maithil lady stole And kindled fury in my soul, Has sought his fate in senseless pride And opened Death's dark portal wide.

Then tell me, Vanar lord, I pray, The dwelling of my foe, And he, beneath this hand, to-day To Yama's halls shall go."

Canto VII. Rama Consoled.

With longing love and woe oppressed The Vanar chief he thus addressed: And he, while sobs his utterance broke, Raised up his reverent hands and spoke:

"O Raghu's son, I cannot tell Where now that cruel fiend may dwell, Declare his power and might, or trace The author of his cursed race.

Still trust the promise that I make And let thy breast no longer ache.

So will I toil, nor toil in vain, That thou thy consort mayst regain.

So will I work with might and skill That joy anew thy heart shall fill: The valour of my soul display, And Rava? and his legions slay.

Awake, awake! unmanned no more Recall the strength was thine of yore.

Beseems not men like thee to wear A weak heart yielding to despair.

Like troubles, too, mine eyes have seen, Lamenting for a long-lost queen; But, by despair unconquered yet, My strength of mind I ne'er forget.

Far more shouldst thou of lofty soul Thy pa.s.sion and thy tears control, When I, of Vanar's humbler strain, Weep not for her in ceaseless pain.

Be firm, be patient, nor forget The bounds the brave of heart have set In loss, in woe, in strife, in fear, When the dark hour of death is near.

Up! with thine own brave heart advise: Not thus despond the firm and wise.

But he who gives his childish heart To choose the coward's weakling part, Sinks, like a foundered vessel, deep In waves of woe that o'er him sweep.

See, suppliant hand to hand I lay, And, moved by faithful love, I pray.

Give way no more to grief and gloom, But all thy native strength resume.

No joy on earth, I ween, have they Who yield their souls to sorrow's sway.

Their glory fades in slow decline: 'Tis not for thee to grieve and pine.

I do but hint with friendly speech The wiser part I dare not teach.

This better path, dear friend, pursue, And let not grief thy soul subdue."

Sugriva thus with gentle art And sweet words soothed the mourner's heart, Who brushed off with his mantle's hem Tears from the eyes bedewed with them.

Sugriva's words were not in vain, And Rama was himself again, Around the king his arms he threw And thus began his speech anew:

"Whate'er a friend most wise and true, Who counsels for the best, should do, Whate'er his gentle part should be, Has been performed, dear friend, by thee.

Taught by thy counsel, O my lord, I feel my native strength restored.

A friend like thee is hard to gain, Most rare in time of grief and pain.

Now strain thine utmost power to trace The Maithil lady's dwelling place, And aid me in my search to find Fierce Rava? of the impious mind.

Trust thou, in turn, thy loyal friend, And say what aid this arm can lend To speed thy hopes, as fostering rain Quickens in earth the scattered grain.

Deem not those words, that seemed to spring From pride, are false, O Vanar King.

None from these lips has ever heard, None e'er shall hear, one lying word.