The Ramayana Part 55

All we this night our watch will keep And guard Kakutstha's son asleep.

In all the world there breathes not one More dear to me than Raghu's son.

The words I speak, heroic youth, Are true: I swear it by my truth.

Through his dear grace supreme renown Will, so I trust, my wishes crown.

So shall my life rich store obtain Of merit, blest with joy and gain.

While Raghu's son and Sita lie Entranced in happy slumber, I Will, with my trusty bow in hand, Guard my dear friend with all my band.

To me, who oft these forests range, Is naught therein or new or strange.

We could with equal might oppose A four-fold army led by foes."

Then royal Lakshma? made reply: "With thee to stand as guardian nigh, Whose faithful soul regards the right, Fearless we well might rest to-night.

But how, when Rama lays his head With Sita on his lowly bed,- How can I sleep? how can I care For life, or aught that's bright and fair?

Behold the conquering chief, whose might Is match for G.o.ds and fiends in fight; With Sita now he rests his head Asleep on gra.s.s beneath him spread.

Won by devotion, text, and prayer, And many a rite performed with care, Chief of our father's sons he shines Well marked, like him, with favouring signs.

Brief, brief the monarch's life will be Now his dear son is forced to flee; And quickly will the widowed state Mourn for her lord disconsolate.

Each mourner there has wept her fill; The cries of anguish now are still: In the king's hall each dame, o'ercome With weariness of woe is dumb.

This first sad night of grief, I ween, Will do to death each sorrowing queen: Scarce is Kausalya left alive; My mother, too, can scarce survive.

If when her heart is fain to break, She lingers for Satrughna's sake, Kausalya, mother of the chief, Must sink beneath the chilling grief.

That town which countless thousands fill, Whose hearts with love of Rama thrill,- The world's delight, so rich and fair,- Grieved for the king, his death will share.

The hopes he fondly cherished, crossed Ayodhya's throne to Rama lost,- With mournful cries, Too late, too late!

The king my sire will meet his fate.

And when my sire has pa.s.sed away, Most happy in their lot are they, Allowed, with every pious care, Part in his funeral rites to bear.

And O, may we with joy at last,- These years of forest exile past,- Turn to Ayodhya's town to dwell With him who keeps his promise well!"

While thus the hero mighty-souled, In wild lament his sorrow told, Faint with the load that on him lay, The hours of darkness pa.s.sed away.

As thus the prince, impelled by zeal For his loved brother, prompt to feel Strong yearnings for the people's weal, His words of truth outspake, King Guha grieved to see his woe, Heart-stricken, gave his tears to flow, Tormented by the common blow, Sad, as a wounded snake.

Canto LII. The Crossing Of Ganga.

Soon as the shades of night had fled, Uprising from his lowly bed, Rama the famous, broad of chest, His brother Lakshma? thus addressed: "Now swift upsprings the Lord of Light, And fled is venerable night.

That dark-winged bird the Kol now Is calling from the topmost bough, And sounding from the thicket nigh Is heard the peac.o.c.k's early cry.

Come, cross the flood that seeks the sea, The swiftly flowing Jahnavi."(324)

King Guha heard his speech, agreed, And called his minister with speed: "A boat," he cried, "swift, strong, and fair, With rudder, oars, and men, prepare, And place it ready by the sh.o.r.e To bear the pilgrims quickly o'er."

Thus Guha spake: his followers all Bestirred them at their master's call; Then told the king that ready manned A gay boat waited near the strand.

Then Guha, hand to hand applied, With reverence thus to Rama cried: "The boat is ready by the sh.o.r.e: How, tell me, can I aid thee more?

O lord of men, it waits for thee To cross the flood that seeks the sea.

O G.o.dlike keeper of thy vow, Embark: the boat is ready now."

Then Rama, lord of glory high, Thus to King Guha made reply: "Thanks for thy gracious care, my lord: Now let the gear be placed on board."

Each bow-armed chief, in mail encased, Bound sword and quiver to his waist, And then with Sita near them hied Down the broad river's shelving side.

Then with raised palms the charioteer, In lowly reverence drawing near, Cried thus to Rama good and true: "Now what remains for me to do?"

With his right hand, while answering The hero touched his friend: "Go back," he said, "and on the king With watchful care attend.

Thus far, Sumantra, thou wast guide; Now to Ayodhya turn," he cried: "Hence seek we leaving steeds and car, On foot the wood that stretches far."

Sumantra, when, with grieving heart, He heard the hero bid him part, Thus to the bravest of the brave, Ikshvaku's son, his answer gave: "In all the world men tell of naught, To match thy deed, by heroes wrought- Thus with thy brother and thy wife Thrall-like to lead a forest life.

No meet reward of fruit repays Thy holy lore, thy saintlike days, Thy tender soul, thy love of truth, If woe like this afflicts thy youth.

Thou, roaming under forest boughs With thy dear brother and thy spouse Shalt richer meed of glory gain Than if three worlds confessed thy reign.

Sad is our fate, O Rama: we, Abandoned and repelled by thee, Must serve as thralls Kaikeyi's will, Imperious, wicked, born to ill."

Thus cried the faithful charioteer, As Raghu's son, in rede his peer, Was fast departing on his road,- And long his tears of anguish flowed.

But Rama, when those tears were dried His lips with water purified, And in soft accents, sweet and clear, Again addressed the charioteer: "I find no heart, my friend, like thine, So faithful to Ikshvaku's line.

Still first in view this object keep, That ne'er for me my sire may weep.

For he, the world's far-ruling king, Is old, and wild with sorrow's sting; With love's great burthen worn and weak: Deem this the cause that thus I speak Whate'er the high-souled king decrees His loved Kaikeyi's heart to please, Yea, be his order what it may, Without demur thou must obey, For this alone great monarchs reign, That ne'er a wish be formed in vain.

Then, O Sumantra, well provide That by no check the king be tried: Nor let his heart in sorrow pine: This care, my faithful friend, be thine.

The honoured king my father greet, And thus for me my words repeat To him whose senses are controlled, Untired till now by grief, and old; "I, Sita, Lakshma? sorrow not, O Monarch, for our altered lot: The same to us, if here we roam, Or if Ayodhya be our home, The fourteen years will quickly fly, The happy hour will soon be nigh When thou, my lord, again shalt see Lakshma?, the Maithil dame, and me."

Thus having soothed, O charioteer, My father and my mother dear, Let all the queens my message learn, But to Kaikeyi chiefly turn.

With loving blessings from the three, From Lakshma?, Sita, and from me, My mother, Queen Kausalya, greet With reverence to her sacred feet.

And add this prayer of mine: "O King; Send quickly forth and Bharat bring, And set him on the royal throne Which thy decree has made his own.

When he upon the throne is placed, When thy fond arms are round him laced, Thine aged heart will cease to ache With bitter pangs for Rama's sake."

And say to Bharat: "See thou treat The queens with all observance meet: What care the king receives, the same Show thou alike to every dame.

Obedience to thy father's will Who chooses thee the throne to fill, Will earn for thee a store of bliss Both in the world to come and this.' "

Thus Rama bade Sumantra go With thoughtful care instructed so.

Sumantra all his message heard, And spake again, by pa.s.sion stirred: "O, should deep feeling mar in aught The speech by fond devotion taught, Forgive whate'er I wildly speak: My love is strong, my tongue is weak.

How shall I, if deprived of thee, Return that mournful town to see: Where sick at heart the people are Because their Rama roams afar.

Woe will be theirs too deep to brook When on the empty car they look, As when from hosts, whose chiefs are slain, One charioteer comes home again.

This very day, I ween, is food Forsworn by all the mult.i.tude, Thinking that thou, with hosts to aid, Art dwelling in the wild wood's shade.

The great despair, the shriek of woe They uttered when they saw thee go, Will, when I come with none beside, A hundred-fold be multiplied.

How to Kausalya can I say: "O Queen, I took thy son away, And with thy brother left him well: Weep not for him; thy woe dispel?"

So false a tale I cannot frame, Yet how speak truth and grieve the dame?

How shall these horses, fleet and bold, Whom not a hand but mine can hold, Bear others, wont to whirl the car Wherein Ikshvaku's children are!

Without thee, Prince, I cannot, no, I cannot to Ayodhya go.

Then deign, O Rama, to relent, And let me share thy banishment.

But if no prayers can move thy heart, If thou wilt quit me and depart, The flames shall end my car and me, Deserted thus and reft of thee.

In the wild wood when foes are near, When dangers check thy vows austere, Borne in my car will I attend, All danger and all care to end.

For thy dear sake I love the skill That guides the steed and curbs his will: And soon a forest life will be As pleasant, for my love of thee.

And if these horses near thee dwell, And serve thee in the forest well, They, for their service, will not miss The due reward of highest bliss.

Thine orders, as with thee I stray, Will I with heart and head obey, Prepared, for thee, without a sigh, To lose Ayodhya or the sky.

As one defiled with hideous sin, I never more can pa.s.s within Ayodhya, city of our king, Unless beside me thee I bring.

One wish is mine, I ask no more, That, when thy banishment is o'er I in my car may bear my lord, Triumphant, to his home restored.

The fourteen years, if spent with thee, Will swift as light-winged moments flee; But the same years, without thee told, Were magnified a hundred-fold.

Do not, kind lord, thy servant leave, Who to his master's son would cleave, And the same path with him pursue, Devoted, tender, just and true."

Again, again Sumantra made His varied plaint, and wept and prayed.

Him Raghu's son, whose tender breast Felt for his servants, thus addressed: "O faithful servant, well my heart Knows how attached and true thou art.

Hear thou the words I speak, and know Why to the town I bid thee go.

Soon as Kaikeyi, youngest queen, Thy coming to the town has seen, No doubt will then her mind oppress That Rama roams the wilderness.

And so the dame, her heart content With proof of Rama's banishment, Will doubt the virtuous king no more As faithless to the oath he swore.

Chief of my cares is this, that she, Youngest amid the queens, may see Bharat her son securely reign O'er rich Ayodhya's wide domain.

For mine and for the monarch's sake Do thou thy journey homeward take, And, as I bade, repeat each word That from my lips thou here hast heard."

Thus spake the prince, and strove to cheer The sad heart of the charioteer, And then to royal Guha said These words most wise and spirited: "Guha, dear friend, it is not meet That people throng my calm retreat: For I must live a strict recluse, And mould my life by hermits' use.

I now the ancient rule accept By good ascetics gladly kept.

I go: bring fig-tree juice that I In matted coils my hair may tie."

Quick Guha hastened to produce, For the king's son, that sacred juice.