The Ramayana Part 183

The trembling bears and Vanars cheer, Calm their sad hearts, dispel their fear.

Save Raghu's n.o.ble sons, and heal The deep wounds of the winged steel.

High o'er the waters of the sea To far Himalaya's summits flee.

Kailasa there wilt thou behold, And Rishabh, with his peaks of gold.

Between them see a mountain rise Whose splendour will enchant thine eyes; His sides are clothed above, below, With all the rarest herbs that grow.

Upon that mountain's lofty crest Four plants, of sovereign powers possessed, Spring from the soil, and flashing there Shed radiance through the neighbouring air.

One draws the shaft: one brings again The breath of life to warm the slain; One heals each wound; one gives anew To faded cheeks their wonted hue.

Fly, chieftain, to that mountain's brow And bring those herbs to save us now."

Hanuman heard, and springing through The air like Vish?u's discus(991) flew.

The sea was pa.s.sed: beneath him, gay With bright-winged birds, the mountains lay, And brook and lake and lonely glen, And fertile lands with toiling men.

On, on he sped: before him rose The mansion of perennial snows.

There soared the glorious peaks as fair As white clouds in the summer air.

Here, bursting from the leafy shade, In thunder leapt the wild cascade.

He looked on many a pure retreat Dear to the G.o.ds' and sages' feet: The spot where Brahma dwells apart, The place whence Rudra launched his dart;(992) Vish?u's high seat and Indra's home, And slopes where Yama's servants roam.

There was Kuvera's bright abode; There Brahma's mystic weapon glowed.

There was the n.o.ble hill whereon Those herbs with wondrous l.u.s.tre shone, And, ravished by the glorious sight, Hanuman rested on the height.

He, moving down the glittering peak, The healing herbs began to seek: But, when he thought to seize the prize, They hid them from his eager eyes.

Then to the hill in wrath he spake: "Mine arm this day shall vengeance take, If thou wilt feel no pity, none, In this great need of Raghu's son."

He ceased: his mighty arms he bent And from the trembling mountain rent His huge head with the life it bore, Snakes, elephants, and golden ore.

O'er hill and plain and watery waste His rapid way again he traced.

And mid the wondering Vanars laid His burthen through the air conveyed, The wondrous herbs' delightful scent To all the host new vigour lent.

Free from all darts and wounds and pain The sons of Raghu lived again, And dead and dying Vanars healed Rose vigorous from the battle field.

Canto LXXV. The Night Attack.

Sugriva spake in words like these: "Now, Vanar lords, the occasion seize.

For now, of sons and brothers reft, To Rava? little hope is left: And if our host his gates a.s.sail His weak defence will surely fail."

At dead of night the Vanar bands Rushed on with torches in their hands.

Scared by the coming of the host Each giant warder left his post.

Where'er the Vanar legions came Their way was marked with hostile flame That spread in fury to devour Palace and temple, gate and tower.

Down came the walls and porches, down Came stately piles that graced the town.

In many a house the fire was red, On sandal wood and aloe fed.

And scorching flames in billows rolled O'er diamonds and pearls and gold.

On cloth of wool, on silk brocade, On linen robes their fury preyed.

Wheels, poles and yokes were burned, and all The coursers' harness in the stall; And elephants' and chariots' gear, The sword, the buckler, and the spear.

Scared by the crash of falling beams, Mid lamentations, groans and screams, Forth rushed the giants through the flames And with them dragged bewildered dames, Each, with o'erwhelming terror wild, Still clasping to her breast a child.

The swift fire from a cloud of smoke Through many a gilded lattice broke, And, melting pearl and coral, rose O'er balconies and porticoes.

The startled crane and peac.o.c.k screamed As with strange light the courtyard gleamed, And fierce unusual glare was thrown On shrinking wood and heated stone.

From burning stall and stable freed Rushed frantic elephant and steed, And goaded by the driving blaze Fled wildly through the crowded ways.

As earth with fervent heat will glow When comes her final overthrow; From gate to gate, from court to spire Proud Lanka was one blaze of fire, And every headland, rock and bay Shone bright a hundred leagues away.

Forth, blinded by the heat and flame Ran countless giants huge of frame; And, mustering for fierce attack, The Vanars charged to drive them back, While shout and scream and roar and cry Reechoed through the earth and sky.

There Rama stood with strength renewed, And ever, as the foe he viewed, Shaking the distant regions rang His mighty bow's tremendous clang.

Then through the gates Nik.u.mbha hied, And k.u.mbha by his brother's side, Sent forth-the bravest and the best- To battle by the king's behest.

There fought the chiefs in open field, And Angad fell and Dwivid reeled.

Sugriva saw: by rage impelled He crushed the bow which k.u.mbha held.

About his foe Sugriva wound His arms, and, heaving from the ground The giant hurled him o'er the bank; And deep beneath the sea he sank.

Like mandar hill with furious swell Up leapt the waters where he fell.

Again he rose: he sprang to land And raised on high his threatening hand: Full on Sugriva's chest it came And shook the Vanar's ma.s.sy frame, But on the wounded bone he broke His wrist-so furious was the stroke.

With force that naught could stay or check, Sugriva smote him neath the neck.

The fierce blow crashed through flesh and bone And k.u.mbha lay in death o'erthrown.

Nik.u.mbha saw his brother die, And red with fury flashed his eye.

He dashed with mighty sway and swing His axe against the Vanar king; But shattered on that living rock It split in fragments at the shock.

Sugriva, rising to the blow, Raised his huge hand and smote his foe.

And in the dust the giant lay Gasping in blood his soul away.

[I have briefly despatched k.u.mbha and Nik.u.mbha, each of whom has in the text a long Canto to himself. When they fall Rava? sends forth Makaraksha or Crocodile-Eye, the son of Khara who was slain by Rama in the forest before the abduction of Sita. The account of his sallying forth, of his battle with Rama and of his death by the fiery dart of that hero occupies two Cantos which I entirely pa.s.s over. Indrajit again comes forth and, rendered invisible by his magic art slays countless Vanars with his unerring arrows. He retires to the city and returns bearing in his chariot an effigy of Sita, the work of magic, weeping and wailing by his side. He grasps the lovely image by the hair and cuts it down with his scimitar in the sight of the enraged Hanuman and all the Vanar host. At last after much fighting of the usual kind Indrajit's chariot is broken in pieces, his charioteer is slain, and he himself falls by Lakshma?'s hand, to the inexpressible delight of the high-souled saints, the nymphs of heaven and other celestial beings.]

Canto XCIII. Ravan's Lament.

They sought the king, a mournful train, And cried, "My lord, thy son is slain.

By Lakshma?'s hand, before these eyes, The warrior fell no more to rise.

No time is this for vain regret: Thy hero son a hero met; And he whose might in battle pressed Lord Indra and the G.o.ds confessed, Whose power was stranger to defeat, Has gained in heaven a blissful seat."

The monarch heard the mournful tale: His heart was faint, his cheek was pale; His fleeting sense at length regained, In trembling tones he thus complained: "Ah me, my son, my pride: the boast And glory of the giant host.

Could Lakshma?'s puny might defeat The foe whom Indra feared to meet?

Could not thy deadly arrows split Proud Mandar's peaks, O Indrajit, And the Destroyer's self destroy?

And wast thou conquered by a boy?

I will not weep: thy n.o.ble deed Has blessed thee with immortal meed Gained by each hero in the skies Who fighting for his sovereign dies.

Now, fearless of all meaner foes, The guardian G.o.ds(993) will taste repose: But earth to me, with hill and plain, Is desolate, for thou art slain.

Ah, whither hast thou fled, and left Thy mother, Lanka, me bereft; Left pride and state and wives behind, And lordship over all thy kind?

I fondly hoped thy hand should pay Due honours on my dying day: And couldst thou, O beloved, flee And leave thy funeral rites to me?

Life has no comfort left me, none, O Indrajit my son, my son."

Thus wailed he broken by his woes: But swift the thought of vengeance rose.

In awful wrath his teeth he gnashed, And from his eyes red lightning flashed.

Hot from his mouth came fire and smoke, As thus the king in fury spoke:

"Through many a thousand years of yore The penance and the pain I bore, And by fierce torment well sustained The highest grace of Brahma gained, His plighted word my life a.s.sured, From G.o.ds of heaven and fiends secured.

He armed my limbs with burnished mail Whose l.u.s.tre turns the sunbeams pale, In battle proof gainst heavenly bands With thunder in their threatening hands.

Armed in this mail myself will go With Brahma's gift my deadly bow, And, cleaving through the foes my way, The slayers of my son will slay."

Then, by his grief to frenzy wrought, The captive in the grove he sought.

Swift through the shady path he sped: Earth trembled at his furious tread.

Fierce were his eyes: his monstrous hand Held drawn for death his glittering brand.

There weeping stood the Maithil dame: She shuddered as the giant came.

Near drew the rover of the night And raised his sword in act to smite; But, by his n.o.bler heart impelled, One Rakshas lord his arm withheld: "Wilt thou, great Monarch," thus he cried, "Wilt thou, to heavenly G.o.ds allied, Blot for all time thy glorious fame, The slayer of a gentle dame?

What! shall a woman's blood be spilt To stain thee with eternal guilt, Thee deep in all the Veda's lore?

Far be the thought for evermore.

Ah look, and let her lovely face This fury from thy bosom chase."