The Ramayana Part 56

Then Rama of his long locks made, And Lakshma?'s too, the hermit braid.

And the two royal brothers there With coats of bark and matted hair, Transformed in lovely likeness stood To hermit saints who love the wood.

So Rama, with his brother bold, A pious anchorite enrolled, Obeyed the vow which hermits take, And to his friend, King Guha, spake: "May people, treasure, army share, And fenced forts, thy constant care: Attend to all: supremely hard The sovereign's task, to watch and guard."

Ikshvaku's son, the good and brave, This last farewell to Guha gave, And then, with Lakshma? and his bride, Determined, on his way he hied.

Soon as he viewed, upon the sh.o.r.e, The bark prepared to waft them o'er Impetuous Ganga's rolling tide, To Lakshma? thus the chieftain cried: "Brother, embark; thy hand extend, Thy gentle aid to Sita lend: With care her trembling footsteps guide, And place the lady by thy side."

When Lakshma? heard, prepared to aid, His brother's words he swift obeyed.

Within the bark he placed the dame, Then to her side the hero came.

Next Lakshma?'s elder brother, lord Of brightest glory, when on board, Breathing a prayer for blessings, meet For priest or warrior to repeat, Then he and car-borne Lakshma? bent, Well-pleased, their heads, most reverent, Their hands, with Sita, having dipped, As Scripture bids, and water sipped, Farewell to wise Sumantra said, And Guha, with the train he led.

So Rama took, on board, his stand, And urged the vessel from the land.

Then swift by vigorous arms impelled Her onward course the vessel held, And guided by the helmsman through The dashing waves of Ganga flew.

Half way across the flood they came, When Sita, free from spot and blame, Her reverent hands together pressed, The G.o.ddess of the stream addressed: "May the great chieftain here who springs From Dasaratha, best of kings, Protected by thy care, fulfil His prudent father's royal will.

When in the forest he has spent His fourteen years of banishment, With his dear brother and with me His home again my lord shall see.

Returning on that blissful day, I will to thee mine offerings pay, Dear Queen, whose waters gently flow, Who canst all blessed gifts bestow.

For, three-pathed Queen, though wandering here, Thy waves descend from Brahma's sphere, Spouse of the G.o.d o'er floods supreme, Though rolling here thy glorious stream.

To thee, fair Queen, my head shall bend, To thee shall hymns of praise ascend, When my brave lord shall turn again, And, joyful, o'er his kingdom reign.

To win thy grace, O Queen divine, A hundred thousand fairest kine, And precious robes and finest meal Among the Brahmans will I deal.

A hundred jars of wine shall flow, When to my home, O Queen, I go; With these, and flesh, and corn, and rice, Will I, delighted, sacrifice.

Each hallowed spot, each holy shrine That stands on these fair sh.o.r.es of thine, Each fane and altar on thy banks Shall share my offerings and thanks.

With me and Lakshma?, free from harm, May he the blameless, strong of arm, Reseek Ayodhya from the wild, O blameless Lady undefiled!"

As, praying for her husband's sake, The faultless dame to Ganga spake, To the right bank the vessel flew With her whose heart was right and true.

Soon as the bark had crossed the wave, The lion leader of the brave, Leaving the vessel on the strand, With wife and brother leapt to land.

Then Rama thus the prince addressed Who filled with joy Sumitra's breast: "Be thine alike to guard and aid In peopled spot, in lonely shade.

Do thou, Sumitra's son, precede: Let Sita walk where thou shalt lead.

Behind you both my place shall be, To guard the Maithil dame and thee.

For she, to woe a stranger yet, No toil or grief till now has met; The fair Videhan will a.s.say The pains of forest life to-day.

To-day her tender feet must tread Rough rocky wilds around her spread: No tilth is there, no gardens grow, No crowding people come and go."

The hero ceased: and Lakshma? led Obedient to the words he said: And Sita followed him, and then Came Raghu's pride, the lord of men.

With Sita walking o'er the sand They sought the forest, bow in hand, But still their lingering glances threw Where yet Sumantra stood in view.

Sumantra, when his watchful eye The royal youths no more could spy, Turned from the spot whereon he stood Homeward with Guha from the wood.

Still on the brothers forced their way Where sweet birds sang on every spray, Though scarce the eye a path could find Mid flowering trees where creepers twined.

Far on the princely brothers pressed, And stayed their feet at length to rest Beneath a fig tree's mighty shade With countless pendent shoots displayed.

Reclining there a while at ease, They saw, not far, beneath fair trees A lake with many a lotus bright That bore the name of Lovely Sight.

Rama his wife's attention drew, And Lakshma?'s, to the charming view: "Look, brother, look how fair the flood Glows with the lotus, flower and bud!"

They drank the water fresh and clear, And with their shafts they slew a deer.

A fire of boughs they made in haste, And in the flame the meat they placed.

So Raghu's sons with Sita shared The hunter's meal their hands prepared, Then counselled that the spreading tree Their shelter and their home should be.

Canto LIII. Rama's Lament.

When evening rites were duly paid, Reclined beneath the leafy shade, To Lakshma? thus spake Rama, best Of those who glad a people's breast: "Now the first night has closed the day That saw us from our country stray, And parted from the charioteer; Yet grieve not thou, my brother dear.

Henceforth by night, when others sleep, Must we our careful vigil keep, Watching for Sita's welfare thus, For her dear life depends on us.

Bring me the leaves that lie around, And spread them here upon the ground, That we on lowly beds may lie, And let in talk the night go by."

So on the ground with leaves o'erspread, He who should press a royal bed, Rama with Lakshma? thus conversed, And many a pleasant tale rehea.r.s.ed: "This night the king," he cried, "alas!

In broken sleep will sadly pa.s.s.

Kaikeyi now content should be, For mistress of her wish is she.

So fiercely she for empire yearns, That when her Bharat home returns, She in her greed, may even bring Destruction on our lord the king.

What can he do, in feeble eld, Reft of all aid and me expelled, His soul enslaved by love, a thrall Obedient to Kaikeyi's call?

As thus I muse upon his woe And all his wisdoms overthrow, Love is, methinks, of greater might To stir the heart than gain and right.

For who, in wisdom's lore untaught, Could by a beauty's prayer be bought To quit his own obedient son, Who loves him, as my sire has done!

Bharat, Kaikeyi's child, alone Will, with his wife, enjoy the throne, And blissfully his rule maintain O'er happy Kosala's domain.

To Bharat's single lot will fall The kingdom and the power and all, When fails the king from length of days, And Rama in the forest strays.

Whoe'er, neglecting right and gain, Lets conquering love his soul enchain, To him, like Dasaratha's lot, Comes woe with feet that tarry not.

Methinks at last the royal dame, Dear Lakshma?, has secured her aim, To see at once her husband dead, Her son enthroned, and Rama fled.

Ah me! I fear, lest borne away By frenzy of success, she slay Kausalya, through her wicked hate Of me, bereft, disconsolate; Or her who aye for me has striven Sumitra, to devotion given.

Hence, Lakshma?, to Ayodhya speed, Returning in the hour of need.

With Sita I my steps will bend Where Da??ak's mighty woods extend.

No guardian has Kausalya now: O, be her friend and guardian thou.

Strong hate may vile Kaikeyi lead To many a base unrighteous deed, Treading my mother 'neath her feet When Bharat holds the royal seat.

Sure in some antenatal time Were children, by Kausalya's crime, Torn from their mothers' arms away, And hence she mourns this evil day.

She for her child no toil would spare Tending me long with pain and care; Now in the hour of fruitage she Has lost that son, ah, woe is me.

O Lakshma?, may no matron e'er A son so doomed to sorrow bear As I, my mother's heart who rend With anguish that can never end.

The Sarika,(325) methinks, possessed More love than glows in Rama's breast.

Who, as the tale is told to us, Addressed the stricken parrot thus: "Parrot, the capturer's talons tear, While yet alone thou flutterest there, Before his mouth has closed on me:"

So cried the bird, herself to free.

Reft of her son, in childless woe, My mother's tears for ever flow: Ill-fated, doomed with grief to strive, What aid can she from me derive?

Pressed down by care, she cannot rise From sorrow's flood wherein she lies.

In righteous wrath my single arm Could, with my bow, protect from harm Ayodhya's town and all the earth: But what is hero prowess worth?

Lest breaking duty's law I sin, And lose the heaven I strive to win, The forest life today I choose, And kingly state and power refuse."

Thus mourning in that lonely spot The troubled chief bewailed his lot, And filled with tears, his eyes ran o'er; Then silent sat, and spake no more.

To him, when ceased his loud lament, Like fire whose brilliant might is spent, Or the great sea when sleeps the wave, Thus Lakshma? consolation gave: "Chief of the brave who bear the bow, E'en now Ayodhya, sunk in woe, By thy departure reft of light Is gloomy as the moonless night.

Unfit it seems that thou, O chief, Shouldst so afflict thy soul with grief, So with thou Sita's heart consign To deep despair as well as mine.

Not I, O Raghu's son, nor she Could live one hour deprived of thee: We were, without thine arm to save, Like fish deserted by the wave.

Although my mother dear to meet, Satrughna, and the king, were sweet, On them, or heaven, to feed mine eye Were nothing, if thou wert not by."

Sitting at ease, their glances fell Upon the beds, constructed well, And there the sons of virtue laid Their limbs beneath the fig tree's shade.

Canto LIV. Bharadvaja's Hermitage.

So there that night the heroes spent Under the boughs that o'er them bent, And when the sun his glory spread, Upstarting, from the place they sped.

On to that spot they made their way, Through the dense wood that round them lay, Where Yamuna's(326) swift waters glide To blend with Ganga's holy tide.

Charmed with the prospect ever new The glorious heroes wandered through Full many a spot of pleasant ground, Rejoicing as they gazed around, With eager eye and heart at ease, On countless sorts of flowery trees.

And now the day was half-way sped When thus to Lakshma? Rama said: "There, there, dear brother, turn thine eyes; See near Prayag(327) that smoke arise: The banner of our Lord of Flames The dwelling of some saint proclaims.

Near to the place our steps we bend Where Yamuna and Ganga blend.

I hear and mark the deafening roar When chafing floods together pour.

See, near us on the ground are left Dry logs, by labouring woodmen cleft, And the tall trees, that blossom near Saint Bharadvaja's home, appear."