The Ramayana Part 53

As wailed the aged Brahmans, bent To turn him back, with wild lament, Seemed Tamasa herself to aid, Checking his progress, as they prayed.

Sumantra from the chariot freed With ready hand each weary steed; He groomed them with the utmost heed,

Their limbs he bathed and dried, Then led them forth to drink and feed At pleasure in the gra.s.sy mead That fringed the river side.

Canto XLVI. The Halt.

When Rama, chief of Raghu's race, Arrived at that delightful place, He looked on Sita first, and then To Lakshma? spake the lord of men: "Now first the shades of night descend Since to the wilds our steps we bend.

Joy to thee, brother! do not grieve For our dear home and all we leave.

The woods unpeopled seem to weep Around us, as their tenants creep Or fly to lair and den and nest, Both bird and beast, to seek their rest.

Methinks Ayodhya's royal town Where dwells my sire of high renown, With all her men and dames to-night Will mourn us vanished from their sight.

For, by his virtues won, they cling In fond affection to their king, And thee and me, O brave and true, And Bharat and Satrughna too.

I for my sire and mother feel Deep sorrow o'er my bosom steal, Lest mourning us, oppressed with fears, They blind their eyes with endless tears.

Yet Bharat's duteous love will show Sweet comfort in their hours of woe, And with kind words their hearts sustain, Suggesting duty, bliss, and gain.

I mourn my parents now no more: I count dear Bharat's virtues o'er, And his kind love and care dispel The doubts I had, and all is well.

And thou thy duty wouldst not shun, And, following me, hast n.o.bly done; Else, bravest, I should need a band Around my wife as guard to stand.

On this first night, my thirst to slake, Some water only will I take: Thus, brother, thus my will decides, Though varied store the wood provides."

Thus having said to Lakshma?, he Addressed in turn Sumantra: "Be Most diligent to-night, my friend, And with due care thy horses tend."

The sun had set: Sumantra tied His n.o.ble horses side by side, Gave store of gra.s.s with liberal hand, And rested near them on the strand.

Each paid the holy evening rite, And when around them fell the night, The charioteer, with Lakshma?'s aid, A lowly bed for Rama laid.

To Lakshma? Rama bade adieu, And then by Sita's side he threw His limbs upon the leafy bed Their care upon the bank had spread.

When Lakshma? saw the couple slept, Still on the strand his watch he kept, Still with Sumantra there conversed, And Rama's varied gifts rehea.r.s.ed.

All night he watched, nor sought repose, Till on the earth the sun arose: With him Sumantra stayed awake, And still of Rama's virtues spake.

Thus, near the river's gra.s.sy sh.o.r.e Which herds unnumbered wandered o'er, Repose, untroubled, Rama found, And all the people lay around.

The glorious hero left his bed, Looked on the sleeping crowd, and said To Lakshma?, whom each lucky line Marked out for bliss with surest sign:

"O brother Lakshma?, look on these Reclining at the roots of trees; All care of house and home resigned, Caring for us with heart and mind, These people of the city yearn To see us to our home return: To quit their lives will they consent, But never leave their firm intent.

Come, while they all unconscious sleep, Let us upon the chariot leap, And swiftly on our journey speed Where naught our progress may impede, That these fond citizens who roam Far from Ikshvaku's ancient home, No more may sleep 'neath bush and tree, Following still for love of me.

A prince with tender care should heal The self-brought woes his people feel, And never let his subjects share The burthen he is forced to bear."

Then Lakshma? to the chief replied, Who stood like Justice by his side: "Thy rede, O sage, I well commend: Without delay the car ascend."

Then Rama to Sumantra spoke: "Thy rapid steeds, I pray thee, yoke.

Hence to the forest will I go: Away, my lord, and be not slow."

Sumantra, urged to utmost speed, Yoked to the car each generous steed, And then, with hand to hand applied, He came before the chief and cried: "Hail, Prince, whom mighty arms adorn, Hail, bravest of the chariot-borne!

With Sita and thy brother thou Mayst mount: the car is ready now."

The hero clomb the car with haste: His bow and gear within were placed, And quick the eddying flood he pa.s.sed Of Tamasa whose waves run fast.

Soon as he touched the farther side, That strong-armed hero, glorified, He found a road both wide and clear, Where e'en the timid naught could fear.

Then, that the crowd might be misled, Thus Rama to Sumantra said: "Speed north a while, then hasten back, Returning in thy former track, That so the people may not learn The course I follow: drive and turn."

Sumantra, at the chief's behest, Quick to the task himself addressed; Then near to Rama came, and showed The chariot ready for the road.

With Sita, then, the princely two, Who o'er the line of Raghu threw A glory ever bright and new, Upon the chariot stood.

Sumantra fast and faster drove His horses, who in fleetness strove Still onward to the distant grove, The hermit-haunted wood.

Canto XLVII. The Citizens' Return.

The people, when the morn shone fair, Arose to find no Rama there.

Then fear and numbing grief subdued The senses of the mult.i.tude.

The woe-born tears were running fast As all around their eyes they cast, And sadly looked, but found no trace Of Rama, searching every place.

Bereft of Rama good and wise, With drooping cheer and weeping eyes, Each woe-distracted sage gave vent To sorrow in his wild lament: "Woe worth the sleep that stole our sense With its beguiling influence, That now we look in vain for him Of the broad chest and stalwart limb!

How could the strong-armed hero, thus Deceiving all, abandon us?

His people so devoted see, Yet to the woods, a hermit, flee?

How can he, wont our hearts to cheer, As a fond sire his children dear,- How can the pride of Raghu's race Fly from us to some desert place!

Here let us all for death prepare, Or on the last great journey fare;(320) Of Rama our dear lord bereft, What profit in our lives is left?

Huge trunks of trees around us lie, With roots and branches sere and dry, Come let us set these logs on fire And throw our bodies on the pyre.

What shall we speak? How can we say We followed Rama on his way, The mighty chief whose arm is strong, Who sweetly speaks, who thinks no wrong?

Ayodhya's town with sorrow dumb, Without our lord will see us come, And hopeless misery will strike Elder, and child, and dame alike.

Forth with that peerless chief we came, Whose mighty heart is aye the same: How, reft of him we love, shall we Returning dare that town to see?"

Complaining thus with varied cry They tossed their aged arms on high, And their sad hearts with grief were wrung, Like cows who sorrow for their young.

A while they followed on the road Which traces of his chariot showed, But when at length those traces failed, A deep despair their hearts a.s.sailed.

The chariot marks no more discerned, The hopeless sages backward turned: "Ah, what is this? What can we more?

Fate stops the way, and all is o'er."

With wearied hearts, in grief and shame They took the road by which they came, And reached Ayodhya's city, where From side to side was naught but care.

With troubled spirits quite cast down They looked upon the royal town, And from their eyes, oppressed with woe, Their tears again began to flow.

Of Rama reft, the city wore No look of beauty as before, Like a dull river or a lake By Garu? robbed of every snake.

Dark, dismal as the moonless sky, Or as a sea whose bed is dry, So sad, to every pleasure dead, They saw the town, disquieted.

On to their houses, high and vast, Where stores of precious wealth were ma.s.sed, The melancholy Brahmans pa.s.sed, Their hearts with anguish cleft: Aloof from all, they came not near To stranger or to kinsman dear, Showing in faces blank and drear That not one joy was left.

Canto XLVIII. The Women's Lament.

When those who forth with Rama went Back to the town their steps had bent, It seemed that death had touched and chilled Those hearts which piercing sorrow filled.

Each to his several mansion came, And girt by children and his dame, From his sad eyes the water shed That o'er his cheek in torrents spread.

All joy was fled: oppressed with cares No bustling trader showed his wares.

Each shop had lost its brilliant look, Each householder forbore to cook.

No hand with joy its earnings told, None cared to win a wealth of gold, And scarce the youthful mother smiled To see her first, her new-born child.

In every house a woman wailed, And her returning lord a.s.sailed With keen taunt piercing like the steel That bids the tusked monster kneel: "What now to them is wedded dame, What house and home and dearest aim, Or son, or bliss, or gathered store, Whose eyes on Rama look no more!

There is but one in all the earth, One man alone of real worth, Lakshma?, who follows, true and good, Rama, with Sita, through the wood.

Made holy for all time we deem Each pool and fountain, lake and stream, If great Kakutstha's son shall choose Their water for his bath to use.

Each forest, dark with lovely trees, Shall yearn Kakutstha's son to please; Each mountain peak and woody hill, Each mighty flood and mazy rill, Each rocky height, each shady grove Where the blest feet of Rama rove, Shall gladly welcome with the best Of all they have their honoured guest.

The trees that cl.u.s.tering blossoms bear, And bright-hued buds to gem their hair, The heart of Rama shall delight, And cheer him on the breezy height.

For him the upland slopes will show The fairest roots and fruit that grow, And all their wealth before him fling Ere the due hour of ripening.

For him each earth-upholding hill Its crystal water shall distil, And all its floods shall be displayed In many a thousand-hued cascade.

Where Rama stands is naught to fear, No danger comes if he be near; For all who live on him depend, The world's support, and lord, and friend.

Ere in too distant wilds he stray, Let us to Rama speed away, For rich reward on those will wait Who serve a prince of soul so great.