The Ramayana Part 149

"Hence," thought the Vanar, "shall I see The Maithil dame, if here she be, These lovely trees, this cool retreat Will surely tempt her wandering feet.

Here the sad queen will roam apart.

And dream of Rama in her heart."

Canto XV. Sita.

Fair as Kailasa white with snow He saw a palace flash and glow, A crystal pavement gem-inlaid, And coral steps and colonnade, And glittering towers that kissed the skies, Whose dazzling splendour charmed his eyes.

There pallid, with neglected dress, Watched close by fiend and giantess, Her sweet face thin with constant flow Of tears, with fasting and with woe; Pale as the young moon's crescent when The first faint light returns to men: Dim as the flame when clouds of smoke The latent glory hide and choke; Like Rohi?i the queen of stars Oppressed by the red planet Mars; From her dear friends and husband torn, Amid the cruel fiends, forlorn, Who fierce-eyed watch around her kept, A tender woman sat and wept.

Her sobs, her sighs, her mournful mien, Her glorious eyes, proclaimed the queen.

"This, this is she," the Vanar cried, "Fair as the moon and lotus-eyed, I saw the giant Ravan bear A captive through the fields of air.

Such was the beauty of the dame; Her form, her lips, her eyes the same.

This peerless queen whom I behold Is Rama's wife with limbs of gold.

Best of the sons of men is he, And worthy of her lord is she."

Canto XVI. Hanuman's Lament.

Then, all his thoughts on Sita bent, The Vanar chieftain made lament: "The queen to Rama's soul endeared, By Lakshma?'s pious heart revered, Lies here,-for none may strive with Fate, A captive, sad and desolate.

The brothers' might full well she knows, And bravely bears the storm of woes, As swelling Ganga in the rains The rush of every flood sustains.

Her lord, for her, fierce Bali slew, Viradha's monstrous might o'erthrew, For her the fourteen thousand slain In Janasthan bedewed the plain.

And if for her Ikshvaku's son Destroyed the world 'twere n.o.bly done.

This, this is she, so far renowned, Who sprang from out the furrowed ground,(823) Child of the high-souled king whose sway The men of Mithila obey: The glorious lady wooed and won By Dasaratha's n.o.blest son; And now these sad eyes look on her Mid hostile fiends a prisoner.

From home and every bliss she fled By wifely love and duty led, And heedless of a wanderer's woes, A life in lonely forests chose.

This, this is she so fair of mould.

Whose limbs are bright as burnished gold.

Whose voice was ever soft and mild, Who sweetly spoke and sweetly smiled.

O, what is Rama's misery! how He longs to see his darling now!

Pining for one of her fond looks As one athirst for water brooks.

Absorbed in woe the lady sees No Rakshas guard, no blooming trees.

Her eyes are with her thoughts, and they Are fixed on Rama far away."

Canto XVII. Sita's Guard.

His pitying eyes with tears bedewed, The weeping queen again he viewed, And saw around the prisoner stand Her demon guard, a fearful band.

Some earless, some with ears that hung Low as their feet and loosely swung: Some fierce with single ears and eyes, Some dwarfish, some of monstrous size: Some with their dark necks long and thin With hair upon the knotty skin: Some with wild locks, some bald and bare, Some covered o'er with bristly hair: Some tall and straight, some bowed and bent With every foul disfigurement: All black and fierce with eyes of fire, Ruthless and stern and swift to ire: Some with the jackal's jaw and nose, Some faced like boars and buffaloes: Some with the heads of goats and kine, Of elephants, and dogs, and swine: With lions' lips and horses' brows, They walked with feet of mules and cows: Swords, maces, clubs, and spears they bore In hideous hands that reeked with gore, And, never sated, turned afresh To bowls of wine and piles of flesh.

Such were the awful guards who stood Round Sita in that lovely wood, While in her lonely sorrow she Wept sadly neath a spreading tree.

He watched the spouse of Rama there Regardless of her tangled hair, Her jewels stripped from neck and limb, Decked only with her love of him.

Canto XVIII. Ravan.

While from his shelter in the boughs The Vanar looked on Rama's spouse He heard the gathered giants raise The solemn hymn of prayer and praise.- Priests skilled in rite and ritual, who The Vedas and their branches(824) knew.

Then, as loud strains of music broke His sleep, the giant monarch woke.

Swift to his heart the thought returned Of the fair queen for whom he burned; Nor could the amorous fiend control The pa.s.sion that absorbed his soul.

In all his brightest garb arrayed He hastened to that lovely shade, Where glowed each choicest flower and fruit, And the sweet birds were never mute, And tall deer bent their heads to drink On the fair streamlet's gra.s.sy brink.

Near that Asoka grove he drew,- A hundred dames his retinue.

Like Indra with the thousand eyes Girt with the beauties of the skies.

Some walked beside their lord to hold The chouries, fans, and lamps of gold.

And others purest water bore In golden urns, and paced before.

Some carried, piled on golden plates, Delicious food of dainty cates; Some wine in ma.s.sive bowls whereon The fairest gems resplendent shone.

Some by the monarch's side displayed, Wrought like a swan, a silken shade: Another beauty walked behind, The sceptre to her care a.s.signed.

Around the monarch gleamed the crowd As lightnings flash about a cloud, And each made music as she went With zone and tinkling ornament.

Attended thus in royal state The monarch reached the garden gate, While gold and silver torches, fed With scented oil a soft light shed.(825) He, while the flame of fierce desire Burnt in his eyes like kindled fire, Seemed Love incarnate in his pride, His bow and arrows laid aside.(826) His robe, from spot and blemish free Like Amrit foamy from the sea,(827) Hung down in many a loosened fold Inwrought with flowers and bright with gold.

The Vanar from his station viewed, Amazed, the wondrous mult.i.tude, Where, in the centre of that ring Of n.o.blest women, stood the king, As stands the full moon fair to view, Girt by his starry retinue.

Canto XIX. Sita's Fear.

Then o'er the lady's soul and frame A sudden fear and trembling came, When, glowing in his youthful pride, She saw the monarch by her side.

Silent she sat, her eyes depressed, Her soft arms folded o'er her breast, And,-all she could,-her beauties screened From the bold gazes of the fiend.

There where the wild she-demons kept Their watch around, she sighed and wept.

Then, like a severed bough, she lay p.r.o.ne on the bare earth in dismay.

The while her thoughts on love's fleet wings Flew to her lord the best of kings.

She fell upon the ground, and there Lay struggling with her wild despair, Sad as a lady born again To misery and woe and pain, Now doomed to grief and low estate, Once n.o.ble fair and delicate: Like faded light of holy lore, Like Hope when all her dreams are o'er; Like ruined power and rank debased, Like majesty of kings disgraced: Like worship foiled by erring slips, The moon that labours in eclipse; A pool with all her lilies dead, An army when its king has fled: So sad and helpless wan and worn, She lay among the fiends forlorn.

Canto XX. Ravan's Wooing.

With amorous look and soft address The fiend began his suit to press: "Why wouldst thou, lady lotus-eyed, From my fond glance those beauties hide?

Mine eager suit no more repel: But love me, for I love thee well.

Dismiss, sweet dame, dismiss thy fear; No giant and no man is near.

Ours is the right by force to seize What dames soe'er our fancy please.(828) But I with rude hands will not touch A lady whom I love so much.

Fear not, dear queen: no fear is nigh: Come, on thy lover's love rely, Some little sign of favor show, Nor lie enamoured of thy woe.

Those limbs upon that cold earth laid, Those tresses twined in single braid,(829) The fast and woe that wear thy frame, Beseem not thee, O beauteous dame.

For thee the fairest wreaths were meant, The sandal and the aloe's scent, Rich ornaments and pearls of price, And vesture meet for Paradise.

With dainty cates shouldst thou be fed, And rest upon a sumptuous bed.

And festive joys to thee belong, The music, and the dance and song.

Rise, pearl of women, rise and deck With gems and chains thine arms and neck.

Shall not the dame I love be seen In vesture worthy of a queen?

Methinks when thy sweet form was made His hand the wise Creator stayed; For never more did he design A beauty meet to rival thine.