The Ramayana Part 127

A heart so bold that will not yield, But yearns to tempt the desperate field, Such loud defiance, fiercely pressed, On no uncertain hope can rest.

So lately by thine arm o'erthrown, He comes not back, I ween, alone.

Some mightier comrade guards his side, And spurs him to this burst of pride.

For nature made the Vanar wise: On arms of might his hope relies; And never will Sugriva seek A friend whose power to save is weak.

Now listen while my lips unfold The wondrous tale my Angad told.

Our child the distant forest sought, And, learnt from spies, the tidings brought.

Two sons of Dasaratha, sprung From old Ikshvaku, brave and young, Renowned in arms, in war untamed- Rama and Lakshma? are they named- Have with thy foe Sugriva made A league of love and friendly aid.

Now Rama, famed for exploit high, Is bound thy brother's firm ally, Like fires of doom(579) that ruin all He makes each foe before him fall.

He is the suppliant's sure defence, The tree that shelters innocence.

The poor and wretched seek his feet: In him the n.o.blest glories meet.

With skill and knowledge vast and deep His sire's commands he loved to keep; With princely gifts and graces stored As metals deck the Mountains' Lord.(580) Thou canst not, O my hero, stand Before the might of Rama's hand; For none may match his powers or dare With him in deeds of war compare.

Hear, I entreat, the words I say, Nor lightly turn my rede away.

O let fraternal discord cease, And link you in the bonds of peace.

Let consecrating rites ordain Sugriva partner of thy reign.

Let war and thoughts of conflict end, And be thou his and Rama's friend, Each soft approach of love begin, And to thy soul thy brother win; For whether here or there he be, Thy brother still, dear lord, is he.

Though far and wide these eyes I strain A friend like him I seek in vain.

Let gentle words his heart incline, And gifts and honours make him thine, Till, foes no more, in love allied, You stand as brothers side by side.

Thou in high rank wast wont to hold Sugriva, formed in ma.s.sive mould; Then come, thy brother's love regain, For other aids are weak and vain.

If thou would please my soul, and still Preserve me from all fear and ill, I pray thee by thy love be wise And do the thing which I advise.

a.s.suage thy fruitless wrath, and shun The mightier arms of Raghu's son; For Indra's peer in might is he, A foe too strong, my lord, for thee."

Canto XVI. The Fall Of Bali.

Thus Tara with the starry eyes(581) Her counsel gave with burning sighs.

But Bali, by her prayers unmoved, Spurned her advice, and thus reproved: "How may this insult, scathe, and scorn By me, dear love, be tamely born?

My brother, yea my foe, comes nigh And dares me forth with shout and cry.

Learn, trembler! that the valiant, they Who yield no step in battle fray, Will die a thousand deaths but ne'er An unavenged dishonour bear.

Nor, O my love, be thou dismayed Though Rama lend Sugriva aid, For one so pure and duteous, one Who loves the right, all sin will shun, Release me from thy soft embrace, And with thy dames thy steps retrace: Enough already, O mine own, Of love and sweet devotion shown.

Drive all thy fear and doubt away; I seek Sugriva in the fray His boisterous rage and pride to still, And tame the foe I would not kill.

My fury, armed with brandished trees, Shall strike Sugriva to his knees: Nor shall the humbled foe withstand The blows of my avenging hand, When, nerved by rage and pride, I beat The traitor down beneath my feet.

Thou, love, hast lent thine own sweet aid, And all thy tender care displayed; Now by my life, by these who yearn To serve thee well, I pray thee turn.

But for a while, dear dame, I go To come triumphant o'er the foe."

Thus Bali spake in gentlest tone: Soft arms about his neck were thrown; Then round her lord the lady went With sad steps slow and reverent.

She stood in solemn guise to bless With prayers for safety and success, Then with her train her chamber sought By grief and racking fear distraught.

With serpent's pantings fierce and fast King Bali from the city pa.s.sed.

His glance, as each quick breath he drew, Around to find the foe he threw, And saw where fierce Sugriva showed His form with golden hues that glowed, And, as a fire resplendent, stayed To meet his foe in arms arrayed.

When Bali, long-armed chieftain, found Sugriva stationed on the ground, Impelled by warlike rage he braced His warrior garb about his waist, And with his mighty arm raised high Rushed at Sugriva with a cry.

But when Sugriva, fierce and bold, Saw Bali with his chain of gold, His arm he heaved, his hand he closed, And face to face his foe opposed.

To him whose eyes with fury shone, In charge impetuous rushing on, Skilled in each warlike art and plan, Bali with hasty words began: "My ponderous hand, to fight addressed With fingers clenched and arm compressed Shall on thy death doomed brow descend And, crashing down, thy life shall end."

He spoke; and wild with rage and pride, The fierce Sugriva thus replied: "Thus let my arm begin the strife And from thy body crush the life."

Then Bali, wounded and enraged, With furious blows the battle waged.

Sugriva seemed, with blood-streams dyed, A hill with fountains in his side.

But with his native force unspent A Sal tree from the earth he rent, And like the bolt of Indra smote On Bali's head and chest and throat.

Bruised by the blows he could not shield, Half vanquished Bali sank and reeled, As sinks a vessel with her freight Borne down by overwhelming weight.

Swift as Supar?a's(582) swiftest flight In awful strength they rushed to fight: So might the sun and moon on high Encountering battle in the sky.

Fierce and more fierce, as fought the foes, The furious rage of combat rose.

They warred with feet and arms and knees, With nails and stones and boughs and trees, And blows descending fast as rain Dyed each dark form with crimson stain, While like two thunder-clouds they met With battle-cry and shout and threat.

Then Rama saw Sugriva quail, Marked his worn strength grow weak and fail.

Saw how he turned his wistful eye To every quarter of the sky.

His friend's defeat he could not brook, Bent on his shaft an eager look, Then burned to slay the conquering foe, And laid his arrow on the bow.

As to an orb the bow he drew Forth from the string the arrow flew Like Fate's tremendous discus hurled By Yama(583) forth to end the world.

So loud the din that every bird The bow-string's clans with terror heard, And wildly fled the affrighted deer As though the day of doom were near.

So, deadly as the serpent's fang, Forth from the string the arrow sprang.

Like the red lightning's flash and flame It flew unerring to its aim, And, hissing murder through the air, Pierced Bali's breast, and quivered there.

Struck by the shaft that flew so well The mighty Vanar reeled and fell, As earthward Indra's flag they pull When Asvini's fair moon is full.(584)

Canto XVII. Bali's Speech.

Like some proud tree before the blast Brave Bali to the ground was cast, Where prostrate in the dust he rolled Clad in the sheen of glistening gold, As when uptorn the standard lies Of the great G.o.d who rules the skies.

When low upon the earth was laid The lord whom Vanar tribes obeyed, Dark as a moonless sky no more His land her joyous aspect wore.

Though low in dust and mire was rolled The form of Bali lofty-souled, Still life and valour, might and grace Clung to their well-loved dwelling-place.

That golden chain with rich gems set, The choicest gift of Sakra,(585) yet Preserved his life nor let decay Steal strength and beauty's light away.

Still from that chain divinely wrought His dusky form a glory caught, As a dark cloud, when day is done, Made splendid by the dying sun.

As fell the hero, crushed in fight, There beamed afar a triple light From limbs, from chain, from shaft that drank His life-blood as the warrior sank.

The never-failing shaft, impelled By the great bow which Rama held, Brought bliss supreme, and lit the way To Brahma's worlds which ne'er decay.(586)

Rama and Lakshma? nearer drew The mighty fallen foe to view, Mahendra's son, the brave and bold, The monarch with his chain of gold, With l.u.s.trous face and tawny eyes, Broad chest, and arms of wondrous size, Like Lord Mahendra fierce in fight, Or Vish?u's never-conquered might, Now fallen like Yayati(587) sent From heaven, his store of merit spent, Like the bright flame that pales and dies, Like the great sun who fires the skies, Doomed in the general doom to fall When time shall end and ruin all.

The wounded Bali, when he saw Rama and Lakshma? nearer draw, Keen words to Raghu's son, impressed With justice' holy stamp, addressed:

"What fame, from one thou hast not slain In front of battle, canst thou gain, Whose secret hand has laid me low When madly fighting with my foe?

From every tongue thy glory rings, A scion of a line of kings, True to thy vows, of n.o.blest race, With every gentle gift and grace: Whose tender heart for woe can feel, And joy in every creature's weal: Whose breast with high ambition swells, Knows duty's claim and ne'er rebels.

They praise thy valour, patience, ruth, Thy firmness, self-restraint, and truth: Thy hand prepared for sin's control, All virtues of a princely soul.

I thought of all these gifts of thine, And glories of an ancient line, I set my Tara's tears at naught, I met Sugriva and we fought.

O Rama, till this fatal morn I held that thou wouldst surely scorn To strike me as I fought my foe And thought not of a stranger's blow, But now thine evil heart is shown, A yawning well with gra.s.s o'ergrown.

Thou wearest virtue's badge,(588) but guile And meanest sin thy soul defile.

I took thee not for treacherous fire, A sinner clad in saint's attire; Nor deemed thou idly wouldst profess The show and garb of righteousness.

In fenced town, in open land, Ne'er hast thou suffered at this hand, Nor canst of proud contempt complain: Then wherefore is the guiltless slain?

My harmless life in woods I lead, On forest fruits and roots I feed.

My foeman in the field I sought, And ne'er with thee, O Rama, fought.

Upon thy limbs, O King, I see The raiment of a devotee; And how can one like thee, who springs From a proud line of ancient kings, Beneath fair virtue's mask, disgrace His lineage by a deed so base?

From Raghu is thy long descent, For duteous deeds preeminent: Why, sinner clad in saintly dress, Roamest thou through the wilderness?

Truth, valour, justice free from spot, The hand that gives and grudges not, The might that strikes the sinner down, These bring a prince his best renown.

Here in the woods, O King, we live On roots and fruit which branches give.(589) Thus nature framed our harmless race: Thou art a man supreme in place.

Silver and gold and land provoke The fierce attack, the robber's stroke, Canst thou desire this wild retreat, The berries and the fruit we eat?

'Tis not for mighty kings to tread The flowery path, by pleasure led.

Theirs be the arm that crushes sin, Theirs the soft grace to woo and win: The steadfast will that guides the state, Wise favour to the good and great; And for all time are kings renowned Who blend these arts and ne'er confound.

But thou art weak and swift to ire, Unstable, slave of each desire.

Thou tramplest duty in the dust, And in thy bow is all thy trust.