The Ramayana Part 130

"Sweeter my slain lord's limbs to touch, Than Angad or a hundred such.

No rule or right, a widowed dame, O'er Angad or the realm I claim.

Sugriva is the uncle, he In every act supreme must be.

I pray thee, chief, this plan resign, Nor claim from me what ne'er is mine.

The father with his tender care Guards the dear child the mother bare, Where'er I be, no sweeter task, No happier joy I hope or ask Than thus to sit with loving eyes And watch the bed where Bali lies.

Canto XXII. Bali Dead.

There breathing still with slow faint sighs Lay Bali on the ground: his eyes, Damp with the tears of death, he raised, On conquering Sugriva gazed, And then in clearest speech expressed The tender feelings of his breast: "Not to my charge, Sugriva, lay Thine injuries avenged to-day; But rather blame resistless Fate That urged me on infuriate.

Fate ne'er agreed our lives to bless With simultaneous happiness: To dwell like brothers side by side In tender love was still denied.

The Vanars' realm is thine to-day: Begin, O King, thy rightful sway;(604) For I must go at Yama's call To sojourn in his gloomy hall; Must part and leave this very hour My life, my realm, my kingly power, And go instead of these to gain Bright glory free from spot and stain.

Now at thy hands one boon I seek With the last words my lips shall speak, And, though it be no easy thing, Perform the task I give thee, King.

This son of mine, no foolish boy, Worthy of bliss and nursed in joy,- See, prostrate on the ground he lies, The hot tears welling from his eyes- The child I love so well, more sweet Than life itself, for woe unmeet,- To him be kindly favour shown: O guard and keep him as thine own.

Retain him ever by thy side, His father, helper, friend, and guide.

From fear and woe his young life save, And give him all his father gave.

Then Tara's son in time shall be Brave, resolute, and famed like thee, And march before thee to the fight Where stricken fiends shall own his might.

While yet a tender stripling, fame Shall bruit abroad his warrior name, And brightly shall his glory shine For exploits worthy of his line.

Child of Sushe?,(605) my Tara well Obscurest lore can read and tell; And, trained in wondrous art, divines Each mystery of boding signs.

Her solemn warning ne'er despise, Do boldly what her lips advise; For things to come her eye can see, And with her words events agree.

And for the son of Raghu's sake The toil and danger undertake: For breach of faith were grievous wrong, Nor wouldst thou be unpunished long.

Now, brother, take this chain of gold, Gift of celestial hands of old, Or when I die its charm will flee, And all its might be lost with me."

The loving speech Sugriva heard, And all his heart with woe was stirred.

Remorse and gentle pity stole Each thought of triumph from his soul: Thus fades the light when Rahu(606) mars The glory of the Lord of Stars.(607) All angry thoughts were stayed and stilled And kindly love his bosom filled.

His brother's word the chief obeyed And took the chain as Bali prayed.

On little Angad standing nigh The dying hero fixed his eye, And, ready from this world to part, Spoke the fond utterance of his heart:

"Let time and place thy thoughts employ: In woe be strong, be meek in joy.

Accept both pain and pleasure, still Obedient to Sugriva's will.

Thou hast, my darling, from the first With tender care been softly nursed; But harder days, if thou wouldst win Sugriva's love, must now begin.

To those who hate him ne'er incline, Nor count his foe a friend of thine.

In all thy thoughts his welfare seek, Obedient, lowly, faithful, meek.

Let no rash suit his bosom pain, Nor yet from due requests abstain.(608) Each is a grievous fault, between The two is found the happy mean."

Then Bali ceased: his eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled In stress of anguish uncontrolled His ma.s.sive teeth were bared to view, And from the frame the spirit flew.

Their lord and leader dead, the crowd Of n.o.blest Vanars shrieked aloud: "Since thou, O King, hast sought the skies All desolate Kishkindha lies.

Her woods, where Vanars loved to rove, Are empty now, and hill and grove.

From every eye the light is fled, Since thou, our mighty lord, art dead.

Thine was the unwearied arm that bore The brunt of deadly fight of yore With Golabh the Gandharva, when, Lasting through five long years and ten, The dreadful conflict knew no stay In gloom of night, in glare of day; And when the fifteenth year had past Thy dire opponent fell at last.

If such a foeman fell beneath Our hero's arm and awful teeth Who freed us from our terror, how Is conquering Bali fallen now?"

Then when they saw their leader slain Great anguish seized the Vanar train, Weeping their mighty chief, as when In pastures near a lion's den The cows by sudden fear are stirred, Slain the bold bull who led the herd.

And hapless Tara sank below The whelming waters of her woe, Looked upon Bali's face and fell Beside him whom she loved go well, Like a young creeper clinging round A tall tree prostrate on the ground.

Canto XXIII. Tara's Lament.

She kissed her lifeless husband's face, She clasped him in a close embrace, Laid her soft lips upon his head; Then words like these the mourner said:

"No words of mine wouldst thou regard, And now thy bed is cold and hard.

Upon the rude rough ground o'erthrown, Beneath thee naught but sand and stone.

To thee the earth is dearer far Than I and my caresses are, If thou upon her breast wilt lie, And to my words make no reply.

Ah my beloved, good and brave, Bold to attack and strong to save, Fate is Sugriva's thrall, and we In him our lord and master see.

Lo, by thy bed, a mournful band, Thy Vanar chiefs lamenting stand.

O hear thy n.o.bles' groans and cries, O mark thy Angad's weeping eyes, O list to my entreaties, break The chains of slumber and awake.

Ah me, my lord, this lowly bed Where rest thy limbs and fallen head, Is the cold couch where smitten lay Thy foemen in the b.l.o.o.d.y fray.

O n.o.ble heart from blemish free, Lover of war, beloved by me.

Why hast thou fled away and left Thy Tara of all hope bereft?

Unwise the father who allows His child to be a warrior's spouse, For, hero, see thy consort's fate, A widow now most desolate, For ever broken is my pride, My hope of lasting bliss has died, And sinking in the lowest deep Of sorrow's sea I pine and weep.

Ah, surely not of earthly mould, This stony heart is stern and cold, Or, in a hundred pieces rent, It had not lingered to lament.

Dead, dead! my husband, friend, and lord In whom my loving hopes were stored, First in the field, his foemen's dread, My own victorious Bali, dead!

A woman when her lord has died, Though children flourish by her side, Though stores of gold her coffers fill, Is called a lonely widow still.

Alas, thy bleeding gashes make Around thy limbs a purple lake: Thus slumbering was thy wont to lie On cushions bright with crimson dye.

Dark streams of welling blood besmear Thy limbs where dust and mire adhere, Nor have I strength, weighed down by woe, Mine arms about thy form to throw.

The issue of this day has brought Sugriva all his wishes sought, For Rama shot one shaft and he Is freed from fear and jeopardy.

Alas, alas, I may not rest My head upon thy wounded breast, Obstructed by the ma.s.sive dart Deep buried in thy bleeding heart."

Then Nila from his bosom drew The fatal shaft that pierced him through, Like some tremendous serpent deep In caverns of a hill asleep.

As from the hero's wound it came, Shot from the shaft a gleam of flame, Like the last flashes of the sun Descending when his course is run.

From the wide rent in crimson flood Rushed the full stream of Bali's blood, Like torrents down a mountain's side With golden ore and copper dyed.

Then Tara brushed with tender care The dust of battle from his hair, While her sad eyes poured down their rain Upon her lord untimely slain.

Once more she looked upon the dead; Then to her bright-eyed child she said: "Turn hither, turn thy weeping eyes Where low in death thy father lies.

By sinful deed and bitter hate Our lord has met his mournful fate.

Bright as the sun at early morn To Yama's halls is Bali borne.

Then go, my child, salute the king, From whom our bliss and honour spring."

Obedient to his mother's hest His father's feet he gently pressed With twining arms and lingering hands: "Father," he cried, "here Angad stands."

Then Tara: "Art thou stern and mute, Regardless of thy child's salute?

Hast thou no blessing for thy son, No word for little Angad, none?

O, hero, at thy lifeless feet Here with my boy I take my seat, As some sad mother of the herd, By the fierce lion undeterred, Lies moaning by the gra.s.sy dell Wherein her lord and leader fell.

How, having wrought that awful rite, The sacrifice of deadly fight, Wherein the shaft by Rama sped Supplied the place of water shed, How hast thou bathed thee at the end Without thy wife her aid to lend?(609) Why do mine eyes no more behold Thy bright beloved chain of gold, Which, pleased with thee, the Immortals' King About thy neck vouchsafed to fling?

Still lingering on thy lifeless face I see the pride of royal race: Thus when the sun has set, his glow Still rests upon the Lord of Snow.

Alas my hero! undeterred Thou wouldst not listen to my word.

With tears and prayers I sued in vain: Thou wouldst not listen, and art slain.

Gone is my bliss, my glory: I And Angad now with thee will die."

Canto XXIV. Sugriva's Lament.