The Ramayana Part 81

When Bharat took his homeward road Still Rama in the wood abode: But soon he marked the fear and care That darkened all the hermits there.

For all who dwelt before the hill Were sad with dread of coming ill: Each holy brow was lined by thought, And Rama's side they often sought.

With gathering frowns the prince they eyed, And then withdrew and talked aside.

Then Raghu's son with anxious breast The leader of the saints addressed: "Can aught that I have done displease, O reverend Sage, the devotees?

Why are their loving looks, O say, Thus sadly changed or turned away?

Has Lakshma? through his want of heed Offended with unseemly deed?

Or is the gentle Sita, she Who loved to honour you and me- Is she the cause of this offence, Failing in lowly reverence?"

One sage, o'er whom, exceeding old, Had many a year of penance rolled, Trembling in every aged limb Thus for the rest replied to him: "How could we, O beloved, blame Thy lofty-souled Videhan dame, Who in the good of all delights, And more than all of anchorites?

But yet through thee a numbing dread Of fiends among our band has spread; Obstructed by the demons' art The trembling hermits talk apart.

For Rava?'s brother, overbold, Named Khara, of gigantic mould, Vexes with fury fierce and fell All those in Janasthan(399) who dwell.

Resistless in his cruel deeds, On flesh of men the monster feeds: Sinful and arrogant is he, And looks with special hate on thee.

Since thou, beloved son, hast made Thy home within this holy shade, The fiends have vexed with wilder rage The dwellers of the hermitage.

In many a wild and dreadful form Around the trembling saints they swarm, With hideous shape and foul disguise They terrify our holy eyes.

They make our loathing souls endure Insult and scorn and sights impure, And flocking round the altars stay The holy rites we love to pay.

In every spot throughout the grove With evil thoughts the monsters rove, a.s.sailing with their secret might Each unsuspecting anchorite.

Ladle and dish away they fling, Our fires with floods extinguishing, And when the sacred flame should burn They trample on each water-urn.

Now when they see their sacred wood Plagued by this impious brotherhood, The troubled saints away would roam And seek in other shades a home: Hence will we fly, O Rama, ere The cruel fiends our bodies tear.

Not far away a forest lies Rich in the roots and fruit we prize, To this will I and all repair And join the holy hermits there; Be wise, and with us thither flee Before this Khara injure thee.

Mighty art thou, O Rama, yet Each day with peril is beset.

If with thy consort by thy side Thou in this wood wilt still abide."

He ceased: the words the hero spake The hermit's purpose failed to break: To Raghu's son farewell he said, And blessed the chief and comforted; Then with the rest the holy sage Departed from the hermitage.

So from the wood the saints withdrew, And Rama bidding all adieu In lowly reverence bent: Instructed by their friendly speech, Blest with the gracious love of each, To his pure home he went.

Nor would the son of Raghu stray A moment from that grove away From which the saints had fled.

And many a hermit thither came Attracted by his saintly fame And the pure life he led.

Canto CXVII. Anasuya.

But dwelling in that lonely spot Left by the hermits pleased him not.

"I met the faithful Bharat here, The townsmen, and my mother dear: The painful memory lingers yet, And stings me with a vain regret.

And here the host of Bharat camped, And many a courser here has stamped, And elephants with ponderous feet Have trampled through the calm retreat."

So forth to seek a home he hied, His spouse and Lakshma? by his side.

He came to Atri's pure retreat, Paid reverence to his holy feet, And from the saint such welcome won As a fond father gives his son.

The n.o.ble prince with joy unfeigned As a dear guest he entertained, And cheered the glorious Lakshma? too And Sita with observance due.

Then Anasuya at the call Of him who sought the good of all, His blameless venerable spouse, Delighting in her holy vows, Came from her chamber to his side: To her the virtuous hermit cried: "Receive, I pray, with friendly grace This dame of Maithil monarchs' race:"

To Rama next made known his wife, The devotee of saintliest life: "Ten thousand years this votaress bent On sternest rites of penance spent; She when the clouds withheld their rain, And drought ten years consumed the plain, Caused grateful roots and fruit to grow And ordered Ganga here to flow: So from their cares the saints she freed, Nor let these checks their rites impede, She wrought in Heaven's behalf, and made Ten nights of one, the G.o.ds to aid:(400) Let holy Anasuya be An honoured mother, Prince, to thee.

Let thy Videhan spouse draw near To her whom all that live revere, Stricken in years, whose loving mind Is slow to wrath and ever kind."

He ceased: and Rama gave a.s.sent, And said, with eyes on Sita bent: "O Princess, thou hast heard with me This counsel of the devotee: Now that her touch thy soul may bless, Approach the saintly votaress: Come to the venerable dame, Far known by Anasuya's name: The mighty things that she has done High glory in the world have won."

Thus spoke the son of Raghu: she Approached the saintly devotee, Who with her white locks, old and frail, Shook like a plantain in the gale.

To that true spouse she bowed her head, And "Lady, I am Sita," said: Raised suppliant hands and prayed her tell That all was prosperous and well.

The aged matron, when she saw Fair Sita true to duty's law, Addressed her thus: "High fate is thine Whose thoughts to virtue still incline.

Thou, lady of the n.o.ble mind, Hast kin and state and wealth resigned To follow Rama forced to tread Where solitary woods are spread.

Those women gain high spheres above Who still unchanged their husbands love, Whether they dwell in town or wood, Whether their hearts be ill or good.

Though wicked, poor, or led away In love's forbidden paths to stray, The n.o.ble matron still will deem Her lord a deity supreme.

Regarding kin and friendship, I Can see no better, holier tie, And every penance-rite is dim Beside the joy of serving him.

But dark is this to her whose mind Promptings of idle fancy blind, Who led by evil thoughts away Makes him who should command obey.

Such women, O dear Maithil dame, Their virtue lose and honest fame, Enslaved by sin and folly, led In these unholy paths to tread.

But they who good and true like thee The present and the future see, Like men by holy deeds will rise To mansions in the blissful skies.

So keep thee pure from taint of sin, Still to thy lord be true, And fame and merit shalt thou win, To thy devotion due."

Canto CXVIII. Anasuya's Gifts.

Thus by the holy dame addressed Who banished envy from her breast, Her lowly reverence Sita paid, And softly thus her answer made: "No marvel, best of dames, thy speech The duties of a wife should teach; Yet I, O lady, also know Due reverence to my lord to show.

Were he the meanest of the base, Unhonoured with a single grace, My husband still I ne'er would leave, But firm through all to him would cleave: Still rather to a lord like mine Whose virtues high-exalted shine, Compa.s.sionate, of lofty soul, With every sense in due control, True in his love, of righteous mind, Like a dear sire and mother kind.

E'en as he ever loves to treat Kausalya with observance meet, Has his behaviour ever been To every other honoured queen.

Nay, more, a sonlike reverence shows The n.o.ble Rama e'en to those On whom the king his father set His eyes one moment, to forget.

Deep in my heart the words are stored, Said by the mother of my lord, When from my home I turned away In the lone fearful woods to stray.

The counsel of my mother deep Impressed upon my soul I keep, When by the fire I took my stand, And Rama clasped in his my hand.

And in my bosom cherished yet, My friends' advice I ne'er forget: Woman her holiest offering pays When she her husband's will obeys.

Good Savitri her lord obeyed, And a high saint in heaven was made, And for the self-same virtue thou Hast heaven in thy possession now.

And she with whom no dame could vie, Now a bright G.o.ddess in the sky, Sweet Rohi?i the Moon's dear Queen, Without her lord is never seen: And many a faithful wife beside For her pure love is glorified."

Thus Sita spake: soft rapture stole Through Anasuya's saintly soul: Kisses on Sita's head she pressed, And thus the Maithil dame addressed: "I by long rites and toils endured Rich store of merit have secured: From this my wealth will I bestow A blessing ere I let thee go.

So right and wise and true each word That from thy lips mine ears have heard, I love thee: be my pleasing task To grant the boon that thou shalt ask."

Then Sita marvelled much, and while Played o'er her lips a gentle smile, "All has been done, O Saint," she cried, "And naught remains to wish beside."

She spake; the lady's meek reply Swelled Anasuya's rapture high.

"Sita," she said, "my gift to-day Thy sweet contentment shall repay.

Accept this precious robe to wear, Of heavenly fabric, rich and rare, These gems thy limbs to ornament, This precious balsam sweet of scent.

O Maithil dame, this gift of mine Shall make thy limbs with beauty shine, And breathing o'er thy frame dispense Its pure and lasting influence.

This balsam on thy fair limbs spread New radiance on thy lord shall shed, As Lakshmi's beauty lends a grace To Vish?u's own celestial face."

Then Sita took the gift the dame Bestowed on her in friendship's name, The balsam, gems, and robe divine, And garlands wreathed of bloomy twine; Then sat her down, with reverence meet, At saintly Anasuya's feet.

The matron rich in rites and vows Turned her to Rama's Maithil spouse, And questioned thus in turn to hear A pleasant tale to charm her ear: "Sita, 'tis said that Raghu's son Thy hand, mid gathered suitors, won.

I fain would hear thee, lady, tell The story as it all befell: Do thou repeat each thing that pa.s.sed, Reviewing all from first to last."

Thus spake the dame to Sita: she Replying to the devotee, "Then, lady, thy attention lend,"

Rehea.r.s.ed the story to the end:

"King Janak, just and brave and strong, Who loves the right and hates the wrong, Well skilled in what the law ordains For Warriors, o'er Videha reigns.

Guiding one morn the plough, his hand Marked out, for rites the sacred land, When, as the ploughshare cleft the earth, Child of the king I leapt to birth.

Then as the ground he smoothed and cleared, He saw me all with dust besmeared, And on the new-found babe, amazed The ruler of Videha gazed.

In childless love the monarch pressed The welcome infant to his breast: "My daughter," thus he cried, "is she:"

And as his child he cared for me.