The Ramayana Part 21

The great Vasish?ha, thus addressed, Arch-hermit of the holy breast, To Visvamitra answer made, The king whom all the land obeyed: "Not for a hundred thousand,-nay, Not if ten million thou wouldst pay, With silver heaps the price to swell,- Will I my cow, O Monarch, sell.

Unmeet for her is such a fate.

That I my friend should alienate.

As glory with the virtuous, she For ever makes her home with me.

On her mine offerings which ascend To G.o.ds and spirits all depend: My very life is due to her, My guardian, friend, and minister.

The feeding of the sacred flame,(223) The dole which living creatures claim.(224) The mighty sacrifice by fire, Each formula the rites require,(225) And various saving lore beside, Are by her aid, in sooth, supplied.

The banquet which thy host has shared, Believe it, was by her prepared, In her mine only treasures lie, She cheers mine heart and charms mine eye.

And reasons more could I a.s.sign Why Dapple-skin can ne'er be thine."

The royal sage, his suit denied, With eloquence more earnest cried: "Tusked elephants, a goodly train, Each with a golden girth and chain, Whose goads with gold well fashioned shine- Of these be twice seven thousand thine.

And four-horse cars with gold made bright, With steeds most beautifully white, Whose bells make music as they go, Eight hundred, Saint, will I bestow.

Eleven thousand mettled steeds From famous lands, of n.o.ble breeds- These will I gladly give, O thou Devoted to each holy vow.

Ten million heifers, fair to view, Whose sides are marked with every hue- These in exchange will I a.s.sign; But let thy Dapple-skin be mine.

Ask what thou wilt, and piles untold Of priceless gems and gleaming gold, O best of Brahmans, shall be thine; But let thy Dapple-skin be mine."

The great Vasish?ha, thus addressed, Made answer to the king's request: "Ne'er will I give my cow away, My gem, my wealth, my life and stay.

My worship at the moon's first show, And at the full, to her I owe; And sacrifices small and great, Which largess due and gifts await.

From her alone, their root, O King, My rites and holy service spring.

What boots it further words to say?

I will not give my cow away Who yields me what I ask each day."

Canto LIV. The Battle.

As Saint Vasish?ha answered so, Nor let the cow of plenty go, The monarch, as a last resource, Began to drag her off by force.

While the king's servants tore away Their moaning, miserable prey, Sad, sick at heart, and sore distressed, She pondered thus within her breast: "Why am I thus forsaken? why Betrayed by him of soul most high.

Vasish?ha, ravished by the hands Of soldiers of the monarch's bands?

Ah me! what evil have I done Against the lofty-minded one, That he, so pious, can expose The innocent whose love he knows?"

In her sad breast as thus she thought, And heaved deep sighs with anguish fraught, With wondrous speed away she fled, And back to Saint Vasish?ha sped.

She hurled by hundreds to the ground The menial crew that hemmed her round, And flying swifter than the blast Before the saint herself she cast.

There Dapple-skin before the saint Stood moaning forth her sad complaint, And wept and lowed: such tones as come From wandering cloud or distant drum.

"O son of Brahma," thus cried she, "Why hast thou thus forsaken me, That the king's men, before thy face, Bear off thy servant from her place?"

Then thus the Brahman saint replied To her whose heart with woe was tried, And grieving for his favourite's sake, As to a suffering sister spake: "I leave thee not: dismiss the thought; Nor, duteous, hast thou failed in aught.

This king, o'erweening in the pride Of power, has reft thee from my side.

Little, I ween, my strength could do 'Gainst him, a mighty warrior too.

Strong, as a soldier born and bred,- Great, as a king whom regions dread.

See! what a host the conqueror leads, With elephants, and cars, and steeds.

O'er countless bands his pennons fly; So is he mightier far than I."

He spoke. Then she, in lowly mood, To that high saint her speech renewed: "So judge not they who wisest are: The Brahman's might is mightier far.

For Brahmans strength from Heaven derive, And warriors bow when Brahmans strive.

A boundless power 'tis thine to wield: To such a king thou shouldst not yield, Who, very mighty though he be,- So fierce thy strength,-must bow to thee.

Command me, Saint. Thy power divine Has brought me here and made me thine; And I, howe'er the tyrant boast, Will tame his pride and slay his host."

Then cried the glorious sage: "Create A mighty force the foe to mate."

She lowed, and quickened into life, Pahlavas,(226) burning for the strife, King Visvamitra's army slew Before the very leader's view.

The monarch in excessive ire, His eyes with fury darting fire, Rained every missile on the foe Till all the Pahlavas were low.

She, seeing all her champions slain, Lying by thousands on the plain.

Created, by her mere desire, Yavans and Sakas, fierce and dire.

And all the ground was overspread With Yavans and with Sakas dread: A host of warriors bright and strong, And numberless in closest throng: The threads within the lotus stem, So densely packed, might equal them.

In gold-hued mail 'against war's attacks, Each bore a sword and battle-axe, The royal host, where'er these came, Fell as if burnt with ravening flame.

The monarch, famous through the world Again his fearful weapons hurled, That made Kambojas,(227) Barbars,(228) all, With Yavans, troubled, flee and fall.

Canto LV. The Hermitage Burnt.

So o'er the field that host lay strown, By Visvamitra's darts o'erthrown.

Then thus Vasish?ha charged the cow: "Create with all thy vigour now."

Forth sprang Kambojas, as she lowed; Bright as the sun their faces glowed, Forth from her udder Barbars poured,- Soldiers who brandished spear and sword,- And Yavans with their shafts and darts, And Sakas from her hinder parts.

And every pore upon her fell, And every hair-producing cell, With Mlechchhas(229) and Kiratas(230) teemed, And forth with them Haritas streamed.

And Visvamitra's mighty force, Car, elephant, and foot, and horse, Fell in a moment's time, subdued By that tremendous mult.i.tude.

The monarch's hundred sons, whose eyes Beheld the rout in wild surprise, Armed with all weapons, mad with rage, Rushed fiercely on the holy sage.

One cry he raised, one glance he shot, And all fell scorched upon the spot: Burnt by the sage to ashes, they With horse, and foot, and chariot, lay.

The monarch mourned, with shame and pain, His army lost, his children slain, Like Ocean when his roar is hushed, Or some great snake whose fangs are crushed: Or as in swift eclipse the Sun Dark with the doom he cannot shun: Or a poor bird with mangled wing- So, reft of sons and host, the king No longer, by ambition fired, The pride of war his breast inspired.

He gave his empire to his son- Of all he had, the only one: And bade him rule as kings are taught Then straight a hermit-grove he sought.

Far to Himalaya's side he fled, Which bards and Nagas visited, And, Mahadeva's(231) grace to earn, He gave his life to penance stern.

A lengthened season thus pa.s.sed by, When Siva's self, the Lord most High, Whose banner shows the pictured bull,(232) Appeared, the G.o.d most bountiful:

"Why fervent thus in toil and pain?

What brings thee here? what boon to gain?

Thy heart's desire, O Monarch, speak: I grant the boons which mortals seek."

The king, his adoration paid, To Mahadeva answer made: "If thou hast deemed me fit to win Thy favour, O thou void of sin, On me, O mighty G.o.d, bestow The wondrous science of the bow, All mine, complete in every part, With secret spell and mystic art.

To me be all the arms revealed That G.o.ds, and saints, and t.i.tans wield, And every dart that arms the hands Of spirits, fiends and minstrel bands, Be mine, O Lord supreme in place, This token of thy boundless grace."

The Lord of G.o.ds then gave consent, And to his heavenly mansion went.

Triumphant in the arms he held, The monarch's breast with glory swelled.

So swells the ocean, when upon His breast the full moon's beams have shone.

Already in his mind he viewed Vasish?ha at his feet subdued.

He sought that hermit's grove, and there Launched his dire weapons through the air, Till scorched by might that none could stay The hermitage in ashes lay.

Where'er the inmates saw, aghast, The dart that Visvamitra cast, To every side they turned and fled In hundreds forth disquieted.

Vasish?ha's pupils caught the fear, And every bird and every deer, And fled in wild confusion forth Eastward and westward, south and north, And so Vasish?ha's holy shade A solitary wild was made, Silent awhile, for not a sound Disturbed the hush that was around.

Vasish?ha then, with eager cry, Called, "Fear not, friends, nor seek to fly.

This son of Gadhi dies to-day, Like h.o.a.r-frost in the morning's ray."

Thus having said, the glorious sage Spoke to the king in words of rage: "Because thou hast destroyed this grove Which long in holy quiet throve, By folly urged to senseless crime, Now shalt thou die before thy time."

Canto LVI. Visvamitra's Vow.