The Ramayana Part 17

He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed, Sire of Dilipa justly famed.

To him, his child and worthy heir, The king resigned his kingdom's care, And on Himalaya's pleasant side His task austere of penance plied.

Bright as a G.o.d in clear renown He planned to bring pure Ganga down.

There on his fruitless hope intent Twice sixteen thousand years he spent, And in the grove of hermits stayed Till bliss in heaven his rites repaid.

Dilipa then, the good and great, Soon as he learnt his kinsmen's fate, Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind, Pondering long no cure could find.

"How can I bring," the mourner sighed, "To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide?

How can I give them rest, and save Their spirits with the offered wave?"

Long with this thought his bosom skilled In holy discipline was filled.

A son was born, Bhagirath named, Above all men for virtue famed.

Dilipa many a rite ordained, And thirty thousand seasons reigned.

But when no hope the king could see His kinsmen from their woe to free, The lord of men, by sickness tried, Obeyed the law of fate, and died; He left the kingdom to his son, And gained the heaven his deeds had won.

The good Bhagirath, royal sage, Had no fair son to cheer his age.

He, great in glory, pure in will, Longing for sons was childless still.

Then on one wish, one thought intent, Planning the heavenly stream's descent, Leaving his ministers the care And burden of his state to bear, Dwelling in far Gokarna(194) he Engaged in long austerity.

With senses checked, with arms upraised, Five fires(195) around and o'er him blazed.

Each weary month the hermit pa.s.sed Breaking but once his awful fast.

In winter's chill the brook his bed, In rain, the clouds to screen his head.

Thousands of years he thus endured Till Brahma's favour was a.s.sured, And the high Lord of living things Looked kindly on his sufferings.

With trooping G.o.ds the Sire came near The king who plied his task austere: "Blest Monarch, of a glorious race, Thy fervent rites have won my grace.

Well hast thou wrought thine awful task: Some boon in turn, O Hermit, ask."

Bhagirath, rich in glory's light, The hero with the arm of might, Thus to the Lord of earth and sky Raised suppliant hands and made reply: "If the great G.o.d his favour deigns, And my long toil its fruit obtains, Let Sagar's sons receive from me Libations that they long to see.

Let Ganga with her holy wave The ashes of the heroes lave, That so my kinsmen may ascend To heavenly bliss that ne'er shall end.

And give, I pray, O G.o.d, a son, Nor let my house be all undone.

Sire of the worlds! be this the grace Bestowed upon Ikshvaku's race."

The Sire, when thus the king had prayed, In sweet kind words his answer made.

"High, high thy thought and wishes are, Bhagirath of the mighty car!

Ikshvaku's line is blest in thee, And as thou prayest it shall be.

Ganga, whose waves in Swarga(196) flow, Is daughter of the Lord of Snow.

Win Siva that his aid be lent To hold her in her mid descent, For earth alone will never bear Those torrents hurled from upper air; And none may hold her weight but He, The Trident wielding deity."

Thus having said, the Lord supreme Addressed him to the heavenly stream; And then with G.o.ds and Maruts(197) went To heaven above the firmament.

Canto XLIV. The Descent Of Ganga.

The Lord of life the skies regained: The fervent king a year remained With arms upraised, refusing rest While with one toe the earth he pressed, Still as a post, with sleepless eye, The air his food, his roof the sky.

The year had past. Then Uma's lord,(198) King of creation, world adored, Thus spoke to great Bhagirath: "I, Well pleased thy wish will gratify, And on my head her waves shall fling The daughter of the Mountains' King!"

He stood upon the lofty crest That crowns the Lord of Snow, And bade the river of the Blest Descend on earth below.

Himalaya's child, adored of all, The haughty mandate heard, And her proud bosom, at the call, With furious wrath was stirred.

Down from her channel in the skies With awful might she sped With a giant's rush, in a giant's size, On Siva's holy head.

"He calls me," in her wrath she cried, "And all my flood shall sweep And whirl him in its whelming tide To h.e.l.l's profoundest deep."

He held the river on his head, And kept her wandering, where, Dense as Himalaya's woods, were spread The tangles of his hair.

No way to earth she found, ashamed, Though long and sore she strove, Condemned, until her pride were tamed, Amid his locks to rove.

There, many lengthening seasons through, The wildered river ran: Bhagirath saw it, and anew His penance dire began.

Then Siva, for the hermit's sake, Bade her long wanderings end, And sinking into Vindu's lake Her weary waves descend.

From Ganga, by the G.o.d set free, Seven n.o.ble rivers came; Hladini, Pavani, and she Called Nalini by name: These rolled their lucid waves along And sought the eastern side.

Suchakshu, Sita fair and strong, And Sindhu's mighty tide-(199) These to the region of the west With joyful waters sped: The seventh, the brightest and the best, Flowed where Bhagirath led.

On Siva's head descending first A rest the torrents found: Then down in all their might they burst And roared along the ground.

On countless glittering scales the beam Of rosy morning flashed, Where fish and dolphins through the stream Fallen and falling dashed.

Then bards who chant celestial lays And nymphs of heavenly birth Flocked round upon that flood to gaze That streamed from sky to earth.

The G.o.ds themselves from every sphere, Incomparably bright, Borne in their golden cars drew near To see the wondrous sight.

The cloudless sky was all aflame With the light of a hundred suns Where'er the shining chariots came That bore those holy ones.

So flashed the air with crested snakes And fish of every hue As when the lightning's glory breaks Through fields of summer blue.

And white foam-clouds and silver spray Were wildly tossed on high, Like swans that urge their homeward way Across the autumn sky.

Now ran the river calm and clear With current strong and deep: Now slowly broadened to a mere, Or scarcely seemed to creep.

Now o'er a length of sandy plain Her tranquil course she held; Now rose her waves and sank again, By refluent waves repelled.

So falling first on Siva's head, Thence rushing to their earthly bed, In ceaseless fall the waters streamed, And pure with holy l.u.s.tre gleamed.

Then every spirit, sage, and bard, Condemned to earth by sentence hard, Pressed eagerly around the tide That Siva's touch had sanctified.

Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled, Accursed, to this lower world, Touched the pure wave, and freed from sin Resought the skies and entered in.

And all the world was glad, whereon The glorious water flowed and shone, For sin and stain were banished thence By the sweet river's influence.

First, in a car of heavenly frame, The royal saint of deathless name, Bhagirath, very glorious rode, And after him fair Ganga flowed.

G.o.d, sage, and bard, the chief in place Of spirits and the Naga race, Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array Sped where Bhagirath led the way; And all the hosts the flood that swim Followed the stream that followed him.

Where'er the great Bhagirath led, There ever glorious Ganga fled, The best of floods, the rivers' queen, Whose waters wash the wicked clean.

It chanced that Jahnu, great and good, Engaged with holy offerings stood; The river spread her waves around Flooding his sacrificial ground.

The saint in anger marked her pride, And at one draught her stream he dried.

Then G.o.d, and sage, and bard, afraid, To n.o.ble high-souled Jahnu prayed, And begged that he would kindly deem His own dear child that holy stream.

Moved by their suit, he soothed their fears And loosed her waters from his ears.

Hence Ganga through the world is styled Both Jahnavi and Jahnu's child.

Then onward still she followed fast, And reached the great sea bank at last.

Thence deep below her way she made To end those rites so long delayed.

The monarch reached the Ocean's side, And still behind him Ganga hied.

He sought the depths which open lay Where Sagar's sons had dug their way.

So leading through earth's nether caves The river's purifying waves, Over his kinsmen's dust the lord His funeral libation poured.

Soon as the flood their dust bedewed, Their spirits gained beat.i.tude, And all in heavenly bodies dressed Rose to the skies' eternal rest.

Then thus to King Bhagirath said Brahma, when, coming at the head Of all his bright celestial train, He saw those spirits freed from stain: "Well done! great Prince of men, well done!

Thy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.

The sons of Sagar mighty-souled, Are with the Blest, as G.o.ds, enrolled, Long as the Ocean's flood shall stand Upon the border of the land, So long shall Sagar's sons remain, And, G.o.dlike, rank in heaven retain.

Ganga thine eldest child shall be, Called from thy name Bhagirathi; Named also-for her waters fell From heaven and flow through earth and h.e.l.l- Tripathaga, stream of the skies, Because three paths she glorifies.

And, mighty King, 'tis given thee now To free thee and perform thy vow.

No longer, happy Prince, delay Drink-offerings to thy kin to pay.

For this the holiest Sagar sighed, But mourned the boon he sought denied.

Then Ansuman, dear Prince! although No brighter name the world could show, Strove long the heavenly flood to gain To visit earth, but strove in vain.

Nor was she by the sages' peer, Blest with all virtues, most austere, Thy sire Dilipa, hither brought, Though with fierce prayers the boon he sought.

But thou, O King, earned success, And won high fame which G.o.d will bless.

Through thee, O victor of thy foes, On earth this heavenly Ganga flows, And thou hast gained the meed divine That waits on virtue such as thine.

Now in her ever holy wave Thyself, O best of heroes, lave: So shalt thou, pure from every sin, The blessed fruit of merit win.

Now for thy kin who died of yore The meet libations duly pour.

Above the heavens I now ascend: Depart, and bliss thy steps attend."

Thus to the mighty king who broke His foemens' might, Lord Brahma spoke, And with his G.o.ds around him rose To his own heaven of blest repose.

The royal sage no more delayed, But, the libation duly paid, Home to his regal city hied With water cleansed and purified.

There ruled he his ancestral state, Best of all men, most fortunate.

And all the people joyed again In good Bhagirath's gentle reign.