The Ramayana Part 23

Then Kusik's son, by pity warmed, Spoke sweetly to the king transformed: "Hail! glory of Ikshvaku's line: I know how bright thy virtues shine.

Dismiss thy fear, O n.o.blest Chief, For I myself will bring relief.

The holiest saints will I invite To celebrate thy purposed rite: So shall thy vow, O King, succeed, And from thy cares shalt thou be freed.

Thou in the form which now thou hast, Transfigured by the curse they cast,- Yea, in the body, King, shalt flee, Transported, where thou fain wouldst be.

O Lord of men, I ween that thou Hast heaven within thy hand e'en now, For very wisely hast thou done, And refuge sought with Kusik's son."

Thus having said, the sage addressed His sons, of men the holiest, And bade the prudent saints whate'er Was needed for the rite prepare.

The pupils he was wont to teach He summoned next, and spoke this speech: "Go bid Vasish?ha'a sons appear, And all the saints be gathered here.

And what they one and all reply When summoned by this mandate high, To me with faithful care report, Omit no word and none distort."

The pupils heard, and prompt obeyed, To every side their way they made.

Then swift from every quarter sped The sages in the Vedas read.

Back to that saint the envoys came, Whose glory shone like burning flame, And told him in their faithful speech The answer that they bore from each: "Submissive to thy word, O Seer, The holy men are gathering here.

By all was meet obedience shown: Mahodaya(238) refused alone.

And now, O Chief of hermits, hear What answer, chilling us with fear, Vasish?ha's hundred sons returned, Thick-speaking as with rage they burned: "How will the G.o.ds and saints partake The offerings that the prince would make, And he a vile and outcast thing, His ministrant one born a king?

Can we, great Brahmans, eat his food, And think to win beat.i.tude, By Visvamitra purified?"

Thus sire and sons in scorn replied, And as these bitter words they said, Wild fury made their eyeb.a.l.l.s red.

Their answer when the arch-hermit heard, His tranquil eyes with rage were blurred; Great fury in his bosom woke, And thus unto the youths he spoke: "Me, blameless me they dare to blame, And disallow the righteous claim My fierce austerities have earned: To ashes be the sinners turned.

Caught in the noose of Fate shall they To Yama's kingdom sink to-day.

Seven hundred times shall they be born To wear the clothes the dead have worn.

Dregs of the dregs, too vile to hate, The flesh of dogs their maws shall sate.

In hideous form, in loathsome weed, A sad existence each shall lead.

Mahodaya too, the fool who fain My stainless life would try to stain, Stained in the world with long disgrace Shall sink into a fowler's place.

Rejoicing guiltless blood to spill, No pity through his breast shall thrill.

Cursed by my wrath for many a day, His wretched life for sin shall pay."

Thus, girt with hermit, saint, and priest, Great Visvamitra spoke-and ceased.

Canto LX. Trisanku's Ascension.

So with ascetic might, in ire, He smote the children and the sire.

Then Visvamitra, far-renowned, Addressed the saints who gathered round: "See by my side Trisanku stand, Ikshvaku's son, of liberal hand.

Most virtuous and gentle, he Seeks refuge in his woe with me.

Now, holy men, with me unite, And order so his purposed rite That in the body he may rise And win a mansion in the skies."

They heard his speech with ready ear And, every bosom filled with fear Of Visvamitra, wise and great, Spoke each to each in brief debate: "The breast of Kusik's son, we know, With furious wrath is quick to glow.

Whate'er the words he wills to say, We must, be very sure, obey.

Fierce is our lord as fire, and straight May curse us all infuriate.

So let us in these rites engage, As ordered by the holy sage.

And with our best endeavour strive That King Ikshvaku's son, alive, In body to the skies may go By his great might who wills it so."

Then was the rite begun with care: All requisites and means were there: And glorious Visvamitra lent His willing aid as president.

And all the sacred rites were done By rule and use, omitting none.

By chaplain-priest, the hymns who knew, In decent form and order due.

Some time in sacrifice had past, And Visvamitra made, at last, The solemn offering with the prayer That all the G.o.ds might come and share.

But the Immortals, one and all, Refused to hear the hermit's call.

Then red with rage his eyeb.a.l.l.s blazed: The sacred ladle high he raised, And cried to King Ikshvaku's son: "Behold my power, by penance won: Now by the might my merits lend, Ikshvaku's child, to heaven ascend.

In living frame the skies attain, Which mortals thus can scarcely gain.

My vows austere, so long endured, Have, as I ween, some fruit a.s.sured.

Upon its virtue, King, rely, And in thy body reach the sky."

His speech had scarcely reached its close, When, as he stood, the sovereign rose, And mounted swiftly to the skies Before the wondering hermits' eyes.

But Indra, when he saw the king His blissful regions entering, With all the army of the Blest Thus cried unto the unbidden guest: "With thy best speed, Trisanku, flee: Here is no home prepared for thee.

By thy great master's curse brought low, Go, falling headlong, earthward go."

Thus by the Lord of G.o.ds addressed, Trisanku fell from fancied rest, And screaming in his swift descent, "O, save me, Hermit!" down he went.

And Visvamitra heard his cry, And marked him falling from the sky, And giving all his pa.s.sion sway, Cried out in fury, "Stay, O stay!"

By penance-power and holy lore, Like Him who framed the worlds of yore, Seven other saints he fixed on high To star with light the southern sky.

Girt with his sages forth he went, And southward in the firmament New wreathed stars prepared to set In many a sparkling coronet.

He threatened, blind with rage and hate, Another Indra to create, Or, from his throne the ruler hurled, All Indraless to leave the world.

Yea, borne away by pa.s.sion's storm, The sage began new G.o.ds to form.

But then each t.i.tan, G.o.d, and saint, Confused with terror, sick and faint, To high souled Visvamitra hied, And with soft words to soothe him tried: "Lord of high destiny, this king, To whom his master's curses cling, No heavenly home deserves to gain, Unpurified from curse and stain."

The son of Kusik, undeterred, The pleading of the Immortals heard, And thus in haughty words expressed The changeless purpose of his breast: "Content ye, G.o.ds: I soothly sware Trisanku to the skies to bear Clothed in his body, nor can I My promise cancel or deny.

Embodied let the king ascend To life in heaven that ne'er shall end.

And let these new-made stars of mine Firm and secure for ever shine.

Let these, my work, remain secure Long as the earth and heaven endure.

This, all ye G.o.ds, I crave: do you Allow the boon for which I sue."

Then all the G.o.ds their answer made: "So be it, Saint, as thou hast prayed.

Beyond the sun's diurnal way Thy countless stars in heaven shall stay: And 'mid them hung, as one divine, Head downward shall Trisanku shine; And all thy stars shall ever fling Their rays attendant on the king."(239)

The mighty saint, with glory crowned, With all the sages compa.s.sed round, Praised by the G.o.ds, gave full a.s.sent, And G.o.ds and sages homeward went.

Canto LXI. Sunahsepha.

Then Visvamitra, when the Blest Had sought their homes of heavenly rest, Thus, mighty Prince, his counsel laid Before the dwellers of the shade: "The southern land where now we are Offers this check our rites to bar:(240) To other regions let us speed, And ply our tasks from trouble freed.

Now turn we to the distant west.

To Pushkar's(241) wood where hermits rest, And there to rites austere apply, For not a grove with that can vie."

The saint, in glory's light arrayed, In Pushkar's wood his dwelling made, And living there on roots and fruit Did penance stern and resolute.

The king who filled Ayodhya's throne, By Ambarisha's name far known, At that same time, it chanced, began A sacrificial rite to plan.

But Indra took by force away The charger that the king would slay.

The victim lost, the Brahman sped To Ambarisha's side, and said: "Gone is the steed, O King, and this Is due to thee, in care remiss.

Such heedless faults will kings destroy Who fail to guard what they enjoy.

The flaw is desperate: we need The charger, or a man to bleed.

Quick! bring a man if not the horse, That so the rite may have its course."