The Ramayana Part 174

"False are they all, proved false to-day, The prophets of my fortune, they Who in the tranquil time of old A blessed life for me foretold, Predicting I should never know A childless dame's, a widow's woe, False are they all, their words are vain, For thou, my lord and life, art slain.

False was the priest and vain his lore Who blessed me in those days of yore By Rama's side in bliss to reign: For thou, my lord and life, art slain.

They hailed me happy from my birth, Proud empress of the lord of earth.

They blessed me-but the thought is pain- For thou, my lord and life, art slain.

Ah, fruitless hope! each glorious sign That stamps the future queen is mine, With no ill-omened mark to show A widow's crushing hour of woe.

They say my hair is black and fine, They praise my brows' continuous line; My even teeth divided well, My bosom for its graceful swell.

They praise my feet and fingers oft; They say my skin is smooth and soft, And call me happy to possess The twelve fair marks that bring success.(955) But ah, what profit shall I gain?

Thou, O my lord and life, art slain.

The flattering seer in former days My gentle girlish smile would praise, And swear that holy water shed By Brahman hands upon my head Should make me queen, a monarch's bride: How is the promise verified?

Matchless in might the brothers slew In Janasthan the giant crew.

And forced the indomitable sea To let them pa.s.s to rescue me.

Theirs was the fiery weapon hurled By him who rules the watery world;(956) Theirs the dire shaft by Indra sped; Theirs was the mystic Brahma's Head.(957) In vain they fought, the bold and brave: A coward's hand their death-wounds gave.

By secret shafts and magic spell The brothers, peers of Indra, fell.

That foe, if seen by Rama's eye One moment, had not lived to fly.

Though swift as thought, his utmost speed Had failed him in the hour of need.

No might, no tear, no prayer may stay Fate's dark inevitable day.

Nor could their matchless valour shield These heroes on the battle field.

I sorrow for the n.o.ble dead, I mourn my hopes for ever fled; But chief my weeping eyes o'erflow For Queen Kausalya's hopeless woe.

The widowed queen is counting now Each hour prescribed by Rama's vow, And lives because she longs to see Once more her princely sons and me."

Then Trija?a,(958) of gentler mould Though Rakshas born, her grief consoled: "Dear Queen, thy causeless woe dispel: Thy husband lives, and all is well.

Look round: in every Vanar face The light of joyful hope I trace.

Not thus, believe me, shine the eyes Of warriors when their leader dies.

An Army, when the chief is dead, Flies from the field dispirited.

Here, undisturbed in firm array, The Vanars by the brothers stay.

Love prompts my speech; no longer grieve; Ponder my counsel, and believe.

These lips of mine from earliest youth Have spoken, and shall speak, the truth.

Deep in my heart thy gentle grace And patient virtues hold their place.

Turn, lady, turn once more thine eye: Though pierced with shafts the heroes lie, On brows and cheeks with blood-drops wet The light of beauty lingers yet.

Such beauty ne'er is found in death, But vanishes with parting breath.

O, trust the hope these tokens give: The heroes are not dead, but live."

Then Sita joined her hands, and sighed, "O, may thy words be verified!"

The car was turned, which fleet as thought The mourning queen to Lanka brought.

They led her to the garden, where Again she yielded to despair, Lamenting for the chiefs who bled On earth's cold bosom with the dead.

Canto XLIX. Rama's Lament.

Ranged round the spot where Rama fell Each Vanar chief stood sentinel.

At length the mighty hero broke The trance that held him, and awoke.

He saw his senseless brother, dyed With blood from head to foot, and cried: "What have I now to do with life Or rescue of my prisoned wife, When thus before my weeping eyes, Slain in the fight, my brother lies?

A queen like Sita I may find Among the best of womankind, But never such a brother, tried In war, my guardian, friend, and guide.

If he be dead, the brave and true, I will not live but perish too.

How, reft of Lakshma?, shall I meet My mother, and Kaikeyi greet?

My brother's eager question brook, And fond Sumitra's longing look?

What shall I say, o'erwhelmed with shame To cheer the miserable dame?

How, when she hears her son is dead, Will her sad heart be comforted?

Ah me, for longer life unfit This mortal body will I quit; For Lakshma? slaughtered for my sake, From sleep of death will never wake.

Ah when I sank oppressed with care, Thy gentle voice could soothe despair.

And art thou, O my brother, killed?

Is that dear voice for ever stilled?

Cold are those lips, my brother, whence Came never word to breed offence?

Ah stretched upon the gory plain My brother lies untimely slain: Numbed is the mighty arm that slew The leaders of the giant crew.

Transfixed with shafts, with blood-streams red, Thou liest on thy lowly bed: So sinks to rest, his journey done, Mid arrowy rays the crimson sun.

Thou, when from home and sire I fled, The wood's wild ways with me wouldst tread: Now close to thine my steps shall be, For I in death will follow thee.

Vibhisha? now will curse my name, And Rama as a braggart blame, Who promised-but his word is vain- That he in Lanka's isle should reign.

Return, Sugriva: reft of me Lead back thy Vanars o'er the sea, Nor hope to battle face to face With him who rules the giant race.

Well have ye done and n.o.bly fought, And death in desperate combat sought.

All that heroic might can do, Brave Vanars, has been done by you.

My faithful friends I now dismiss: Return: my last farewell is this."

Bedewed with tears was every cheek As thus the Vanars heard him speak.

Vibhisha? on the field had stayed The Vanar hosts who fled dismayed.

Now lifting up his mace on high With martial step the chief drew nigh.

The hosts who watched by Rama's side Beheld his shape and giant stride.

'Tis he, 'tis Rava?'s son, they thought: And all in flight their safety sought.

Canto L. The Broken Spell.

Sugriva viewed the flying crowd, And thus to Angad cried aloud: "Why run the trembling hosts, as flee Storm-scattered barks across the sea?"

"Dost thou not mark," the chief replied, "Transfixed with shafts, with bloodstreams dyed, With arrowy toils about them wound, The sons of Raghu on the ground?"

That moment brought Vibhisha? near.

Sugriva knew the cause of fear, And ordered Jambavan, who led The bears, to check the hosts that fled.

The king of bears his hest obeyed: The Vanars' headlong flight was stayed.

A little while Vibhisha? eyed The brothers fallen side by side.

His giant fingers wet with dew Across the heroes' eyes he drew, Still on the pair his sad look bent, And spoke these word in wild lament: "Ah for the mighty chiefs brought low By coward hand and stealthy blow!

Brave pair who loved the open fight, Slain by that rover of the night.

Dishonest is the victory won By Indrajit my brother's son.

I on their might for aid relied, And in my cause they fought and died.

Lost is the hope that soothed each pain: I live, but live no more to reign, While Lanka's lord, untouched by ill, Exults in safe defiance still."

"Not thus," Sugriva said, "repine, For Lanka's isle shall still be thine.

Nor let the tyrant and his son Exult before the fight be done.

These royal chiefs, though now dismayed, Freed from the spell by Garu?'s aid, Triumphant yet the foe shall meet And lay the robber at their feet."

His hope the Vanar monarch told, And thus Vibhisha?'s grief consoled.

Then to Sushe? who at his side Expectant stood, Sugriva cried: "When these regain their strength and sense, Fly, bear them to Kishkindha hence.

Here with my legions will I stay, The tyrant and his kinsmen slay, And, rescued from the giant king, The Maithil lady will I bring, Like Glory lost of old, restored By Sakra, heaven's almighty lord."

Sushe? made answer: "Hear me yet: When G.o.ds and fiends in battle met, So fiercely fought the demon crew, So wild a storm of arrows flew, That heavenly warriors faint with pain, Sank smitten by the ceaseless rain.