The Ramayana Part 58

Then the great saint, in duty trained, With honour gladly entertained: He gave his guests a welcome fair, And bade them sit and rest them there, Rama of mighty arm and chest His faithful Lakshma? then addressed: "Brother, bring hither from the wood Selected timber strong and good, And build therewith a little cot; My heart rejoices in the spot That lies beneath the mountain's side, Remote, with water well supplied."

Sumitra's son his words obeyed, Brought many a tree, and deftly made, With branches in the forest cut, As Rama bade, a leafy hut.

Then Rama, when the cottage stood Fair, firmly built, and walled with wood, To Lakshma? spake, whose eager mind To do his brother's will inclined: "Now, Lakshma? as our cot is made, Must sacrifice be duly paid By us, for lengthened life who hope, With venison of the antelope.

Away, O bright-eyed Lakshma?, speed: Struck by thy bow a deer must bleed: As Scripture bids, we must not slight The duty that commands the rite."

Lakshma?, the chief whose arrows laid His foemen low, his word obeyed; And Rama thus again addressed The swift performer of his hest: "Prepare the venison thou hast shot, To sacrifice for this our cot.

Haste, brother dear, for this the hour, And this the day of certain power."

Then glorious Lakshma? took the buck His arrow in the wood had struck; Bearing his mighty load he came, And laid it in the kindled flame.

Soon as he saw the meat was done, And that the juices ceased to run From the broiled carca.s.s, Lakshma? then Spoke thus to Rama best of men: "The carca.s.s of the buck, entire, Is ready dressed upon the fire.

Now be the sacred rites begun To please the G.o.d, thou G.o.dlike one."

Rama the good, in ritual trained, Pure from the bath, with thoughts restrained, Hasted those verses to repeat Which make the sacrifice complete.

The hosts celestial came in view, And Rama to the cot withdrew, While a sweet sense of rapture stole Through the unequalled hero's soul.

He paid the Visvedevas(332) due.

And Rudra's right, and Vish?u's too, Nor wonted blessings, to protect Their new-built home, did he neglect.

With voice repressed he breathed the prayer, Bathed duly in the river fair, And gave good offerings that remove The stain of sin, as texts approve.

And many an altar there he made, And shrines, to suit the holy shade, All decked with woodland chaplets sweet, And fruit and roots and roasted meat, With muttered prayer, as texts require, Water, and gra.s.s and wood and fire.

So Rama, Lakshma?, Sita paid Their offerings to each G.o.d and shade, And entered then their pleasant cot That bore fair signs of happy lot.

They entered, the ill.u.s.trious three, The well-set cottage, fair to see, Roofed with the leaves of many a tree, And fenced from wind and rain: So, at their Father Brahma's call, The G.o.ds of heaven, a.s.sembling all, To their own glorious council hall Advance in shining train.

So, resting on that lovely hill, Near the fair lily-covered rill, The happy prince forgot, Surrounded by the birds and deer, The woe, the longing, and the fear That gloom the exile's lot.

Canto LVII. Sumantra's Return.

When Rama reached the southern bank, King Guha's heart with sorrow sank: He with Sumantra talked, and spent With his deep sorrow, homeward went.

Sumantra, as the king decreed, Yoked to the car each n.o.ble steed, And to Ayodhya's city sped With his sad heart disquieted.

On lake and brook and scented grove His glances fell, as on he drove: City and village came in view As o'er the road his coursers flew.

On the third day the charioteer, When now the hour of night was near, Came to Ayodhya's gate, and found The city all in sorrow drowned.

To him, in spirit quite cast down, Forsaken seemed the silent town, And by the rush of grief oppressed He pondered in his mournful breast: "Is all Ayodhya burnt with grief, Steed, elephant, and man, and chief?

Does her loved Rama's exile so Afflict her with the fires of woe?"

Thus as he mused, his steeds flew fast, And swiftly through the gate he pa.s.sed.

On drove the charioteer, and then In hundreds, yea in thousands, men Ran to the car from every side, And, "Rama, where is Rama?" cried.

Sumantra said: "My chariot bore The duteous prince to Ganga's sh.o.r.e; I left him there at his behest, And homeward to Ayodhya pressed."

Soon as the anxious people knew That he was o'er the flood they drew Deep sighs, and crying, Rama! all Wailed, and big tears began to fall.

He heard the mournful words prolonged, As here and there the people thronged: "Woe, woe for us, forlorn, undone, No more to look on Raghu's son!

His like again we ne'er shall see, Of heart so true, of hand so free, In gifts, in gatherings for debate, When marriage pomps we celebrate, What should we do? What earthly thing Can rest, or hope, or pleasure bring?"

Thus the sad town, which Rama kept As a kind father, wailed and wept.

Each mansion, as the car went by, Sent forth a loud and bitter cry, As to the window every dame, Mourning for banished Rama, came.

As his sad eyes with tears o'erflowed, He sped along the royal road To Dasaratha's high abode.

There leaping down his car he stayed; Within the gates his way he made; Through seven broad courts he onward hied Where people thronged on every side.

From each high terrace, wild with woe, The royal ladies flocked below: He heard them talk in gentle tone, As each for Rama made her moan: "What will the charioteer reply To Queen Kausalya's eager cry?

With Rama from the gates he went; Homeward alone, his steps are bent.

Hard is a life with woe distressed, But difficult to win is rest, If, when her son is banished, still She lives beneath her load of ill."

Such was the speech Sumantra heard From them whom grief unfeigned had stirred.

As fires of anguish burnt him through, Swift to the monarch's hall he drew, Past the eighth court; there met his sight, The sovereign in his palace bright, Still weeping for his son, forlorn, Pale, faint, and all with sorrow worn.

As there he sat, Sumantra bent And did obeisance reverent, And to the king repeated o'er The message he from Rama bore.

The monarch heard, and well-nigh brake His heart, but yet no word he spake: Fainting to earth he fell, and dumb, By grief for Rama overcome.

Rang through the hall a startling cry, And women's arms were tossed on high, When, with his senses all astray, Upon the ground the monarch lay.

Kausalya, with Sumitra's aid, Raised from the ground her lord dismayed: "Sire, of high fate," she cried, "O, why Dost thou no single word reply To Rama's messenger who brings News of his painful wanderings?

The great injustice done, art thou Shame-stricken for thy conduct now?

Rise up, and do thy part: bestow Comfort and help in this our woe.

Speak freely, King; dismiss thy fear, For Queen Kaikeyi stands not near, Afraid of whom thou wouldst not seek Tidings of Rama: freely speak."

When the sad queen had ended so, She sank, insatiate in her woe, And prostrate lay upon the ground, While her faint voice by sobs was drowned.

When all the ladies in despair Saw Queen Kausalya wailing there, And the poor king oppressed with pain, They flocked around and wept again.

Canto LVIII. Rama's Message.

The king a while had senseless lain, When care brought memory back again.

Then straight he called, the news to hear Of Rama, for the charioteer, With reverent hand to hand applied He waited by the old man's side, Whose mind with anguish was distraught Like a great elephant newly caught.

The king with bitter pain distressed The faithful charioteer addressed, Who, sad of mien, with flooded eye, And dust upon his limbs, stood by: "Where will be Rama's dwelling now At some tree's foot, beneath the bough; Ah, what will be the exile's food, Bred up with kind solicitude?

Can he, long lapped in pleasant rest, Unmeet for pain, by pain oppressed, Son of earth's king, his sad night spend Earth-couched, as one that has no friend?

Behind him, when abroad he sped, Cars, elephant, and foot were led: Then how shall Rama dwell afar In the wild woods where no men are?

How, tell me, did the princes there, With Sita good and soft and fair, Alighting from the chariot, tread The forest wilds around them spread?

A happy lot is thine, I ween, Whose eyes my two dear sons have seen Seeking on foot the forest shade, Like the bright Twins to view displayed, The heavenly Asvins, when they seek The woods that hang 'neath Mandar's peak.

What words, Sumantra, quickly tell, From Rama, Lakshma?, Sita fell?

How in the wood did Rama eat?

What was his bed, and what his seat?

Full answer to my questions give, For I on thy replies shall live, As with the saints Yayati held Sweet converse, from the skies expelled."

Urged by the lord of men to speak, Whose sobbing voice came faint and weak, Thus he, while tears his utterance broke, In answer to the monarch spoke: "Hear then the words that Rama said, Resolved in duty's path to tread.

Joining his hands, his head he bent, And gave this message, reverent: "Sumantra, to my father go, Whose lofty mind all people know: Bow down before him, as is meet, And in my stead salute his feet.

Then to the queen my mother bend, And give the greeting that I send: Ne'er may her steps from duty err, And may it still be well with her.

And add this word: "O Queen, pursue Thy vows with faithful heart and true; And ever at due season turn Where holy fires of worship burn.

And, lady, on our lord bestow Such honour as to G.o.ds we owe.

Be kind to every queen: let pride And thought of self be cast aside.

In the king's fond opinion raise Kaikeyi, by respect and praise.

Let the young Bharat ever be Loved, honoured as the king by thee: Thy king-ward duty ne'er forget: High over all are monarchs set."

And Bharat, too, for me address: Pray that all health his life may bless.

Let every royal lady share, As justice bids, his love and care.

Say to the strong-armed chief who brings Joy to Iksvaku's line of kings: "As ruling prince thy care be shown Of him, our sire, who holds the throne.

Stricken in years he feels their weight; But leave him in his royal state.

As regent heir content thee still, Submissive to thy father's will.' "

Rama again his charge renewed, As the hot flood his cheek bedewed: "Hold as thine own my mother dear Who drops for me the longing tear."

Then Lakshma?, with his soul on fire, Spake breathing fast these words of ire: "Say, for what sin, for what offence Was royal Rama banished thence?

He is the cause, the king: poor slave To the light charge Kaikeyi gave.

Let right or wrong the motive be, The author of our woe is he.

Whether the exile were decreed Through foolish faith or guilty greed, For promises or empire, still The king has wrought a grievous ill.

Grant that the Lord of all saw fit To prompt the deed and sanction it, In Rama's life no cause I see For which the king should bid him flee.