The Ramayana Part 44

To Siva and the heavenly host My worship has been paid, To mighty saint, to G.o.dlike ghost, To every wandering shade.

Forth to the forest thou wilt hie, Therein to dwell so long: Let all the quarters of the sky Protect my child from wrong."

Her blessings thus the queen bestowed; Then round him fondly paced, And often, while her eyes o'erflowed, Her dearest son embraced.

Kausalya's honoured feet he pressed, As round her steps she bent, And radiant with her prayers that blessed, To Sita's home he went.

Canto XXVI. Alone With Sita.

So Rama, to his purpose true, To Queen Kausalya bade adieu, Received the benison she gave, And to the path of duty clave.

As through the crowded street he pa.s.sed, A radiance on the way he cast, And each fair grace, by all approved, The bosoms of the people moved.

Now of the woeful change no word The fair Videhan bride had heard; The thought of that imperial rite Still filled her bosom with delight.

With grateful heart and joyful thought The G.o.ds in worship she had sought, And, well in royal duties learned, Sat longing till her lord returned, Not all unmarked by grief and shame Within his sumptuous home he came, And hurried through the happy crowd With eye dejected, gloomy-browed.

Up Sita sprang, and every limb Trembled with fear at sight of him.

She marked that cheek where anguish fed, Those senses care-disquieted.

For, when he looked on her, no more Could his heart hide the load it bore, Nor could the pious chief control The paleness o'er his cheek that stole.

His altered cheer, his brow bedewed With clammy drops, his grief she viewed, And cried, consumed with fires of woe, "What, O my lord, has changed thee so?

Vrihaspati looks down benign, And the moon rests in Pushya's sign, As Brahmans sage this day declare: Then whence, my lord, this grief and care?

Why does no canopy, like foam For its white beauty, shade thee home, Its hundred ribs spread wide to throw Splendour on thy fair head below?

Where are the royal fans, to grace The lotus beauty of thy face, Fair as the moon or wild-swan's wing, And waving round the new-made king?

Why do no sweet-toned bards rejoice To hail thee with triumphant voice?

No tuneful heralds love to raise Loud music in their monarch's praise?

Why do no Brahmans, Scripture-read, Pour curds and honey on thy head, Anointed, as the laws ordain, With holy rites, supreme to reign?

Where are the chiefs of every guild?

Where are the myriads should have filled The streets, and followed home their king With merry noise and triumphing?

Why does no gold-wrought chariot lead With four brave horses, best for speed?

No elephant precede the crowd Like a huge hill or thunder cloud, Marked from his birth for happy fate, Whom signs auspicious decorate?

Why does no henchman, young and fair, Precede thee, and delight to bear Entrusted to his reverent hold The burthen of thy throne of gold?

Why, if the consecrating rite Be ready, why this mournful plight?

Why do I see this sudden change, This altered mien so sad and strange?"

To her, as thus she weeping cried, Raghu's ill.u.s.trious son replied: "Sita, my honoured sire's decree Commands me to the woods to flee.

O high-born lady, n.o.bly bred In the good paths thy footsteps tread, Hear, Janak's daughter, while I tell The story as it all befell.

Of old my father true and brave Two boons to Queen Kaikeyi gave.

Through these the preparations made For me to-day by her are stayed, For he is bound to disallow This promise by that earlier vow.

In Da??ak forest wild and vast Must fourteen years by me be pa.s.sed.

My father's will makes Bharat heir, The kingdom and the throne to share.

Now, ere the lonely wild I seek, I come once more with thee to speak.

In Bharat's presence, O my dame, Ne'er speak with pride of Rama's name: Another's eulogy to hear Is hateful to a monarch's ear.

Thou must with love his rule obey To whom my father yields the sway.

With love and sweet observance learn His grace, and more the king's, to earn.

Now, that my father may not break The words of promise that he spake, To the drear wood my steps are bent: Be firm, good Sita, and content.

Through all that time, my blameless spouse, Keep well thy fasts and holy vows.

Rise from thy bed at break of day, And to the G.o.ds due worship pay.

With meek and lowly love revere The lord of men, my father dear, And reverence to Kausalya show, My mother, worn with eld and woe: By duty's law, O best of dames, High worship from thy love she claims, Nor to the other queens refuse Observance, rendering each her dues: By love and fond attention shown They are my mothers like mine own.

Let Bharat and Satrughna bear In thy sweet love a special share: Dear as my life, O let them be Like brother and like son to thee.

In every word and deed refrain From aught that Bharat's soul may pain: He is Ayodhya's king and mine, The head and lord of all our line.

For those who serve and love them much With weariless endeavour, touch And win the gracious hearts of kings.

While wrath from disobedience springs.

Great monarchs from their presence send Their lawful sons who still offend, And welcome to the vacant place Good children of an alien race.

Then, best of women, rest thou here, And Bharat's will with love revere.

Obedient to thy king remain, And still thy vows of truth maintain.

To the wide wood my steps I bend: Make thou thy dwelling here; See that thy conduct ne'er offend, And keep my words, my dear."

Canto XXVII. Sita's Speech.

His sweetly-speaking bride, who best Deserved her lord, he thus addressed.

Then tender love bade pa.s.sion wake, And thus the fair Videhan spake: "What words are these that thou hast said?

Contempt of me the thought has bred.

O best of heroes, I dismiss With bitter scorn a speech like this: Unworthy of a warrior's fame It taints a monarch's son with shame, Ne'er to be heard from those who know The science of the sword and bow.

My lord, the mother, sire, and son Receive their lots by merit won; The brother and the daughter find The portions to their deeds a.s.signed.

The wife alone, whate'er await, Must share on earth her husband's fate.

So now the king's command which sends Thee to the wild, to me extends.

The wife can find no refuge, none, In father, mother, self, or son: Both here, and when they vanish hence, Her husband is her sole defence.

If, Raghu's son, thy steps are led Where Da??ak's pathless wilds are spread, My foot before thine own shall pa.s.s Through tangled thorn and matted gra.s.s.

Dismiss thine anger and thy doubt: Like refuse water cast them out, And lead me, O my hero, hence- I know not sin-with confidence.

Whate'er his lot, 'tis far more sweet To follow still a husband's feet Than in rich palaces to lie, Or roam at pleasure through the sky.

My mother and my sire have taught What duty bids, and trained each thought, Nor have I now mine ear to turn The duties of a wife to learn.

I'll seek with thee the woodland dell And pathless wild where no men dwell, Where tribes of silvan creatures roam, And many a tiger makes his home.

My life shall pa.s.s as pleasant there As in my father's palace fair.

The worlds shall wake no care in me; My only care be truth to thee.

There while thy wish I still obey, True to my vows with thee I'll stray, And there shall blissful hours be spent In woods with honey redolent.

In forest shades thy mighty arm Would keep a stranger's life from harm, And how shall Sita think of fear When thou, O glorious lord, art near?

Heir of high bliss, my choice is made, Nor can I from my will be stayed.

Doubt not; the earth will yield me roots, These will I eat, and woodland fruits; And as with thee I wander there I will not bring thee grief or care.

I long, when thou, wise lord, art nigh, All fearless, with delighted eye To gaze upon the rocky hill, The lake, the fountain, and the rill; To sport with thee, my limbs to cool, In some pure lily-covered pool, While the white swan's and mallard's wings Are plashing in the water-springs.

So would a thousand seasons flee Like one sweet day, if spent with thee.

Without my lord I would not prize A home with G.o.ds above the skies: Without my lord, my life to bless, Where could be heaven or happiness?

Forbid me not: with thee I go The tangled wood to tread.

There will I live with thee, as though This roof were o'er my head.

My will for thine shall be resigned; Thy feet my steps shall guide.

Thou, only thou, art in my mind: I heed not all beside.

Thy heart shall ne'er by me be grieved; Do not my prayer deny: Take me, dear lord; of thee bereaved Thy Sita swears to die."

These words the duteous lady spake, Nor would he yet consent His faithful wife with him to take To share his banishment.

He soothed her with his gentle speech; To change her will he strove; And much he said the woes to teach Of those in wilds who rove.

Canto XXVIII. The Dangers Of The Wood.

Thus Sita spake, and he who knew His duty, to its orders true, Was still reluctant as the woes Of forest life before him rose.