The Ramayana Part 25

Around him in the summer days Five mighty fires combined to blaze.

In floods of rain no veil was spread Save clouds, to canopy his head.

In the dank dews both night and day Couched in the stream the hermit lay.

Thus, till a thousand years had fled, He plied his task of penance dread.

Then Vish?u and the G.o.ds with awe The labours of the hermit saw, And Sakra, in his troubled breast, Lord of the skies, his fear confessed.

And brooded on a plan to spoil The merits of the hermit's toil.

Encompa.s.sed by his G.o.ds of Storm He summoned Rambha, fair of form, And spoke a speech for woe and weal, The saint to mar, the G.o.d to heal.

Canto LXIV. Rambha.

"A great emprise, O lovely maid, To save the G.o.ds, awaits thine aid: To bind the son of Kusik sure, And take his soul with love's sweet lure."

Thus order'd by the Thousand-eyed The suppliant nymph in fear replied: "O Lord of G.o.ds, this mighty sage Is very fierce and swift to rage.

I doubt not, he so dread and stern On me his scorching wrath will turn.

Of this, my lord, am I afraid: Have mercy on a timid maid."

Her suppliant hands began to shake, When thus again Lord Indra spake: "O Rambha, drive thy fears away, And as I bid do thou obey.

In Kol's form, who takes the heart When trees in spring to blossom start, I, with Kandarpa for my friend, Close to thy side mine aid will lend.

Do thou thy beauteous splendour arm With every grace and winsome charm, And from his awful rites seduce This Kusik's son, the stern recluse."

Lord Indra ceased. The nymph obeyed: In all her loveliest charms arrayed, With winning ways and witching smile She sought the hermit to beguile.

The sweet note of that tuneful bird The saint with ravished bosom heard, And on his heart a rapture pa.s.sed As on the nymph a look he cast.

But when he heard the bird prolong His sweet incomparable song, And saw the nymph with winning smile, The hermit's heart perceived the wile.

And straight he knew the Thousand-eyed A plot against his peace had tried.

Then Kusik's son indignant laid His curse upon the heavenly maid: "Because thou wouldst my soul engage Who fight to conquer love and rage, Stand, till ten thousand years have flown, Ill-fated maid, transformed to stone.

A Brahman then, in glory strong, Mighty through penance stern and long, Shall free thee from thine altered shape; Thou from my curse shalt then escape."

But when the saint had cursed her so, His breast was burnt with fires of woe, Grieved that long effort to restrain His mighty wrath was all in vain.

Cursed by the angry sage's power, She stood in stone that selfsame hour.

Kandarpa heard the words he said, And quickly from his presence fled.

His fall beneath his pa.s.sion's sway Had reft the hermit's meed away.

Unconquered yet his secret foes, The humbled saint refused repose: "No more shall rage my bosom till, Sealed be my lips, my tongue be still.

My very breath henceforth I hold Until a thousand years are told: Victorious o'er each erring sense, I'll dry my frame with abstinence, Until by penance duly done A Brahman's rank be bought and won.

For countless years, as still as death, I taste no food, I draw no breath, And as I toil my frame shall stand Unharmed by time's destroying hand."

Canto LXV. Visvamitra's Triumph

Then from Himalaya's heights of snow, The glorious saint prepared to go, And dwelling in the distant east His penance and his toil increased.

A thousand years his lips he held Closed by a vow unparalleled, And other marvels pa.s.sing thought, Unrivalled in the world, he wrought.

In all the thousand years his frame Dry as a log of wood became.

By many a cross and check beset, Rage had not stormed his bosom yet.

With iron will that naught could bend He plied his labour till the end.

So when the weary years were o'er, Freed from his vow so stern and sore, The hermit, all his penance sped, Sate down to eat his meal of bread.

Then Indra, clad in Brahman guise, Asked him for food with hungry eyes.

The mighty saint, with steadfast soul, To the false Brahman gave the whole, And when no sc.r.a.p for him remained, Fasting and faint, from speech refrained.

His silent vow he would not break: No breath he heaved, no word he spake, Then as he checked his breath, behold!

Around his brow thick smoke-clouds rolled And the three worlds, as if o'erspread With ravening flames, were filled with dread.

Then G.o.d and saint and bard, convened, And Naga lord, and snake, and fiend, Thus to the General Father cried, Distracted, sad, and terrified: "Against the hermit, sore a.s.sailed, Lure, scathe, and scorn have naught availed, Proof against rage and treacherous art He keeps his vow with constant heart.

Now if his toils a.s.sist him naught To gain the boon his soul has sought, He through the worlds will ruin send That fixt and moving things shall end, The regions now are dark with doom, No friendly ray relieves the gloom.

Each ocean foams with maddened tide, The shrinking hills in fear subside.

Trembles the earth with feverous throe The wind in fitful tempest blows.

No cure we see with troubled eyes: And atheist brood on earth may rise.

The triple world is wild with care, Or spiritless in dull despair.

Before that saint the sun is dim, His blessed light eclipsed by him.

Now ere the saint resolve to bring Destruction on each living thing, Let us appease, while yet we may, Him bright as fire, like fire to slay.

Yea, as the fiery flood of Fate Lays all creation desolate, He o'er the conquered G.o.ds may reign: O, grant him what he longs to gain."

Then all the Blest, by Brahma led, Approached the saint and sweetly said: "Hail, Brahman Saint! for such thy place: Thy vows austere have won our grace.

A Brahman's rank thy penance stern And ceaseless labour richly earn.

I with the G.o.ds of Storm decree Long life, O Brahman Saint, to thee.

May peace and joy thy soul possess: Go where thou wilt in happiness."

Thus by the General Sire addressed, Joy and high triumph filled his breast.

His head in adoration bowed, Thus spoke he to the Immortal crowd: "If I, ye G.o.ds, have gained at last Both length of days and Brahman caste, Grant that the high mysterious name, And holy Vedas, own my claim, And that the formula to bless The sacrifice, its lord confess.

And let Vasish?ha, who excels In Warriors' art and mystic spells, In love of G.o.d without a peer, Confirm the boon you promise here."

With Brahma's son Vasish?ha, best Of those who pray with voice repressed, The G.o.ds by earnest prayer prevailed, And thus his new-made friend he hailed: "Thy t.i.tle now is sure and good To rights of saintly Brahmanhood."

Thus spake the sage. The G.o.ds, content, Back to their heavenly mansions went.

And Visvamitra, pious-souled, Among the Brahman saints enrolled, On reverend Vasish?ha pressed The honours due to holy guest.

Successful in his high pursuit, The sage, in penance resolute, Walked in his pilgrim wanderings o'er The whole broad land from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.

'Twas thus the saint, O Raghu's son, His rank among the Brahmans won.

Best of all hermits, Prince, is he; In him incarnate Penance see.

Friend of the right, who shrinks from ill, Heroic powers attend him still."

The Brahman, versed in ancient lore, Thus closed his tale, and said no more, To Satananda Kusik's son Cried in delight, Well done! well done!

Then Janak, at the tale amazed, Spoke thus with suppliant hands upraised: "High fate is mine, O Sage, I deem, And thanks I owe for bliss supreme, That thou and Raghu's children too Have come my sacrifice to view.

To look on thee with blessed eyes Exalts my soul and purifies.

Yea, thus to see thee face to face Enriches me with store of grace.

Thy holy labours wrought of old, And mighty penance, fully told, Rama and I with great delight Have heard, O glorious Anchorite.

Unrivalled thine ascetic deeds: Thy might, O Saint, all might exceeds.

No thought may scan, no limit bound The virtues that in thee are found.

The story of thy wondrous fate My thirsty ears can never sate.

The hour of evening rites is near: The sun declines in swift career.

At early dawn, O Hermit, deign To let me see thy face again.

Best of ascetics, part in bliss: Do thou thy servant now dismiss."

The saint approved, and glad and kind Dismissed the king with joyful mind Around the sage King Janak went With priests and kinsmen reverent.

Then Visvamitra, honoured so, By those high-minded, rose to go, And with the princes took his way To seek the lodging where they lay.

Canto LXVI. Janak's Speech.