The Ramayana Part 13

With joy the pride of Raghu's race Received the hermit's proffered grace, Mysterious arms, to check and stay, Or smite the foeman in the fray.

Then, all with heavenly forms endued, Nigh came the wondrous mult.i.tude.

Celestial in their bright attire Some shone like coals of burning fire; Some were like clouds of dusky smoke; And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke: "Thy thralls, O Rama, here we stand: Command, we pray, thy faithful band"

"Depart," he cried, "where each may list, But when I call you to a.s.sist, Be present to my mind with speed, And aid me in the hour of need."

To Rama then they lowly bent, And round him in due reverence went, To his command, they answered, Yea, And as they came so went away.

When thus the arms had homeward flown, With pleasant words and modest tone, E'en as he walked, the prince began To question thus the holy man: "What cloudlike wood is that which near The mountain's side I see appear?

O tell me, for I long to know; Its pleasant aspect charms me so.

Its glades are full of deer at play, And sweet birds sing on every spray, Past is the hideous wild; I feel So sweet a tremor o'er me steal, And hail with transport fresh and new A land that is so fair to view.

Then tell me all, thou holy Sage, And whose this pleasant hermitage In which those wicked ones delight To mar and kill each holy rite.

And with foul heart and evil deed Thy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.

To whom, O Sage, belongs this land In which thine altars ready stand!

'Tis mine to guard them, and to slay The giants who the rites would stay.

All this, O best of saints, I burn From thine own lips, my lord, to learn."

Canto x.x.xI. The Perfect Hermitage.

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might, And thus replied the anchorite: "Chief of the mighty arm, of yore Lord Vish?u whom the G.o.ds adore, For holy thought and rites austere Of penance made his dwelling here.

This ancient wood was called of old Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled, And when perfection he attained The grove the name of Perfect gained.

Bali of yore, Virochan's son, Dominion over Indra won, And when with power his proud heart swelled, O'er the three worlds his empire held.

When Bali then began a rite, The G.o.ds and Indra in affright Sought Vish?u in this place of rest, And thus with prayers the G.o.d addressed: "Bali. Virochan's mighty son, His sacrifice has now begun: Of boundless wealth, that demon king Is bounteous to each living thing.

Though suppliants flock from every side The suit of none is e'er denied.

Whate'er, where'er howe'er the call, He hears the suit and gives to all.

Now with thine own illusive art Perform, O Lord, the helper's part: a.s.sume a dwarfish form, and thus From fear and danger rescue us."(167)

Thus in their dread the Immortals sued: The G.o.d a dwarflike shape indued:(168) Before Virochan's son he came, Three steps of land his only claim.

The boon obtained, in wondrous wise Lord Vish?u's form increased in size; Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast, G.o.d of the Triple Step, he pa.s.sed.(169) The whole broad earth from side to side He measured with one mighty stride, Spanned with the next the firmament, And with the third through heaven he went.

Thus was the king of demons hurled By Vish?u to the nether world, And thus the universe restored To Indra's rule, its ancient lord.

And now because the immortal G.o.d This spot in dwarflike semblance trod, The grove has aye been loved by me For reverence of the devotee.

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 honour 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 hermits answer made: "Till the fifth day be come and past, O Raghu's sons, your watch must last.

The saint his Diksha(170) 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 past away.

Then Rama cried: "O Lakshma?, 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 splendour 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 be spied, Thus to his brother brave and true Spoke Rama lotus-eyed: "Now, Lakshma?, 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 Lakshma? spoke again: "See, Lakshma?, 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 o'erthrown, The saints no more afraid.

When thus the fiends were slain in fight, Disturbers of each holy rite, Due honour 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 the royal palace lies, Laid up in oil of precious scent With aloe-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 harboured there, Forsook the glade and leafy brake And followed for the hermit's sake.