The Ramayana Part 135

Through the fair city Lakshma? came, Invited in Sugriva's name.

Within the gates the guardian bands, Of Vanars raised their suppliant hands, And in their ordered ranks, amazed, Upon the princely hero gazed, They marked each burning breath he drew, The fury of his soul they knew.

Their hearts were chilled with sudden fear: They gazed, but dared not venture near, Before his eyes the city, gay With gems and flowery gardens, lay, Where fane and palace rose on high, And things of beauty charmed the eye.

Where trees of every blossom grew Yielding their fruit in season due To Vanars of celestial seed Who wore each varied form at need, Fair-faced and glorious with the shine Of heavenly robes and wreaths divine.

There sandal, aloe, lotus bloomed, And there delicious breath perfumed The city's broad street, redolent Of sugary mead(636) and honey scent.

There many a lofty palace rose Like Vindhya or the Lord of Snows, And with sweet murmur sparkling rills Leapt lightly down the sheltering hills.

On many a glorious palace, raised For prince and n.o.ble,(637) Lakshma? gazed: Like clouds of paly hue they shone With fragrant wreaths that hung thereon: There wealth of jewels was enshrined, And fairer gems of womankind.

There gleamed, of n.o.ble height and size, Like Indra's mansion in the skies, Protected by a crystal fence Of rock, the royal residence, With roof and turret high and bright Like Mount Kailasa's loftiest height.

There blooming trees, Mahendra's gift, High o'er the walls were seen to lift Their golden fruited boughs, that made With leaf and flower delicious shade.

He saw a band of Vanars wait, Wielding their weapons, at the gate Where golden portals flashed between Celestial garlands red and green.

Within Sugriva's fair abode Unchecked the mighty hero strode, As when the sun of autumn shrouds His glory in a pile of clouds.

Through seven wide courts he quickly pa.s.sed, And reached the royal tower at last, Where seats were set with couch and bed Of gold and silver richly spread.

While the young chieftain's feet drew near The sound of music reached his ear, As the soft breathings of the flute Came blending with the voice and lute.

Then beauty showed her youth and grace And varied charm of form and face: Soft bright-eyed creatures, fair and young,- Gay garlands round their necks were hung, And greater charms to each were lent By richest dress and ornament.

He saw the calm attendants wait About their lord in careless state, Heard women's girdles chime in sweet Accordance with their tinkling feet.

He heard the anklet's silvery sound, He saw the calm that reigned around, And o'er him, as he listened, came A rush of rage, a flood of shame.

He drew his bowstring: with the clang From ease to west the welkin rang: Then in his modest mood withdrew A little from the ladies' view.

And sternly silent stood apart, While wrath for Rama filled his heart.

Sugriva knew the sounding string, And at the call the Vanar king Sprang swiftly from his golden seat, And feared the coming prince to meet.

Then with cold lips that terror dried To beauteous Tara thus he cried: "What cause of anger, O my spouse Fair with the charm of lovely brows, Sets Lakshma?'s gentle breast on fire, And brings him in unwonted ire?

Say, canst thou see, O faultless dame, A cause to fill his soul with flame?

For there must be a reason when Such fury stirs the king of men.

Reveal the sin, if sin of mine Anger the lord of Raghu's line.

Or go thyself, his rage subdue, And with soft words his favour woo.

Soon as on thee his eyes are set His heart this anger will forget, For men like him of lofty mind Are never stern with womankind.

First let thy gentle speech disarm His fury, and his spirit charm, And I, from fear of peril free, The conqueror of his foes will see."

She heard: with faltering steps and slow, With eyes that shone with trembling glow, With gold-girt body gently bent To meet the stranger prince she went.

When Lakshma? saw the Vanar queen With tranquil eyes and modest mien, Before the dame he bent his head, And anger, at her presence, fled.

Made bold by draughts of wine, and cheered By Lakshma?'s look no more she feared, And in the trust his favour lent She thus addressed him eloquent: "Whence springs thy burning fury? say: Who dares thy will to disobey?

Who checks the maddened flames that seize On forests full of withered trees?"

Then Lakshma? spoke, her mind to ease, His kind reply in words like these:

"Thy lord his days in pleasure spends, Heedless of duty and of friends, Nor dost thou mark, though fondly true, The evil path his steps pursue.

He cares not for affairs of state, Nor us forlorn and desolate, But sits a mere spectator still, A sensual slave to pleasure's will.

Four months were fixed, the time agreed When he should help us in our need: But, bound in toils of pleasure fast, He sees not that the months are past.

Where beats the heart which draughts of wine To virtue or to gain incline?

Hast thou not heard those draughts destroy Virtue and gain and love and joy?

For those who, helped at need, refuse Their aid in turn, their virtue lose: And they who scorn a friend disdain A treasure naught may buy again.

Thy lord has cast his friend away, Nor feared from virtue's path to stray, If this be true, declare, O dame Who knowest duty's every claim, What further work remains for us Deceived and disappointed thus."

She listened, for his words were kind, Where virtue showed with gain combined, And thus in turn the prince addressed, As hope was rising in his breast: "No time, no cause of wrath I see With those who live and honour thee: And thou shouldst bear without offence Thy servant's fitful negligence.

I know the seasons glide away, While Rama maddens at delay I know what deed our thanks has earned, I know that grace should be returned.

But still I know, whate'er befall, That conquering love is lord of all; Know where Sugriva's thoughts, possessed By one absorbing pa.s.sion, rest.

But he whom sensual joys debase Heeds not the claim of time and place, And sees not with his blinded sight His duty or his gain aright.

O pardon him who loves me! spare The Vanar caught in pleasure's snare, And once again let Rama grace With favour him who rules our race.

E'en royal saints, whose chief delight Was penance and austerest rite, At love's commandment have unbent, Beguiled by sweetest blandishment.

And know, Sugriva, roused at last, The order to his lords has pa.s.sed, And, long by love and bliss delayed, Wakes all on fire your hopes to aid.

A countless host his city fills, New-gathered from a thousand hills: Impetuous chiefs, who wear at need Each varied form, his legions lead.

Come then, O hero, kept aloof By modest awe, nor fear reproof: A faithful friend untouched by blame May look upon another's dame."

He pa.s.sed within, by Tara pressed, And by his own impatient breast, Refulgent there in sunlike sheen Sugriva on his throne was seen.

Gay garlands round his neck were twined, And Ruma by her lord recline.

Canto x.x.xIV. Lakshman's Speech.

Sugriva started from his rest With doubt and terror in his breast.

He heard the prince's furious tread He saw his eyes glow fiercely red.

Swift sprang the monarch to his feet Upstarting from his golden seat.

Rose Ruma and her fellows, too, And closely round Sugriva drew, As round the moon's full glory stand Attendant stars in glittering band.

Sugriva glanced with reddened eyes, Raised his joined hands in suppliant guise Flew to the door, and rooted there Stood like the tree that grants each prayer.(638) And Lakshma? saw, and, fiercely moved, With angry speech the king reproved:

"Famed is the prince who loves the truth, Whose soul is touched with tender ruth, Who, liberal, keeps each sense subdued, And pays the debt of grat.i.tude.

But all unmeet a king to be, The meanest of the mean is he Who basely breaks the promise made To trusting friends who lent him aid.

He sins who for a steed has lied, As if a hundred steeds had died: Or if he lie, a cow to win, Tenfold as heavy is the sin.

But if the lie a man betray, Both he and his shall all decay.(639) O Vanar King, the thankless man Is worthy of the general ban, Who takes a.s.sistance of his friends, And in his turn no service lends.

This verse of old by Brahma sung Is echoed now by every tongue.

Hear what He cried in angry mood Bewailing man's ingrat.i.tude: "For draughts of wine, for slaughtered cows, For treacherous theft, for broken vows A pardon is ordained: but none For thankless scorn of service done."

Ungrateful, Vanar King, art thou, And faithless to thy plighted vow.

For Rama brought thee help, and yet Thou shunnest to repay the debt: Or, grateful, thou hadst surely pressed To aid the hero in his quest.

Thou art, in vulgar pleasures drowned, False to thy bond in honour bound.

Nor yet has Rama's guileless heart Discerned thee for the thing thou art- A snake who holds the frogs that cries And lures fresh victims as it dies.

Brave Rama, born for glorious fate, Has set thee in thy high estate, And to the Vanars' throne restored, Great-souled himself, their mean-souled lord.

Now if thy pride disown what he, High thoughted prince, has done for thee, Struck by his arrows shalt thou fall, And Bali meet in Yama's hall.

Still open, to the gloomy G.o.d, Lies the sad path thy brother trod.

Then to thy plighted word be true, Nor let thy steps that path pursue.

Methinks the shafts of Rama, shot Like thunderbolts, thou heedest not, Who canst, absorbed in sensual bliss, Thy promise from thy mind dismiss."

Canto x.x.xV. Tara's Speech.

He ceased: and Tara starry-eyed Thus to the angry prince replied: "Not to my lord shouldst thou address A speech so fraught with bitterness: Not thus reproached my lord should be, And least of all, O Prince, by thee.

He is no thankless coward-no- With spirit dead to valour's glow.

From paths of truth he never strays, Nor wanders in forbidden ways.

Ne'er will Sugriva's heart forget, By Rama saved, the lasting debt.

Still in his grateful breast will live The succour none but he could give.

Restored to fame by Rama's grace, To empire o'er the Vanar race, From ceaseless dread and toil set free, Restored to Ruma and to me: By grief and care and exile tried, New to the bliss so long denied, Like Visvamitra once, alas, He marks not how the seasons pa.s.s.

That saint ten thousand years remained, By sweet Ghritachi's(640) love enchained, And deemed those years, that flew away So lightly, but a single day.

O, if those years unheeded flew By him who times and seasons knew, Unequalled for his lofty mind, What marvel meaner eyes are blind?

Then be not angry, Raghu's son, And let thy brother feel for one Who many a weary year has spent Stranger to love and blandishment.

Let not this wrath thy soul inflame, Like some mean wretch unknown to fame: For high and n.o.ble hearts like thine Love mercy and to ruth incline, Calm and deliberate, and slow With anger's raging fire to glow.