The Ramayana Part 9

Canto XIX. The Birth Of The Princes.

The seasons six in rapid flight Had circled since that glorious rite.

Eleven months had pa.s.sed away; 'Twas Chaitra's ninth returning day.(130) The moon within that mansion shone Which Aditi looks kindly on.

Raised to their apex in the sky Five brilliant planets beamed on high.

Shone with the moon, in Cancer's sign, V?ihaspati(131) with light divine.

Kausalya bore an infant blest With heavenly marks of grace impressed; Rama, the universe's lord, A prince by all the worlds adored.

New glory Queen Kausalya won Reflected from her splendid son.

So Aditi shone more and more, The Mother of the G.o.ds, when she The King of the Immortals(132) bore, The thunder-wielding deity.

The lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy, He came fierce Rava? to destroy; From half of Vish?u's vigour born, He came to help the worlds forlorn.

And Queen Kaikeyi bore a child Of truest valour, Bharat styled, With every princely virtue blest, One fourth of Vish?u manifest.

Sumitra too a n.o.ble pair, Called Lakshma? and Satrughna, bare, Of high emprise, devoted, true, Sharers in Vish?u's essence too.

'Neath Pushya's(133) mansion, Mina's(134) sign, Was Bharat born, of soul benign.

The sun had reached the Crab at morn When Queen Sumitra's babes were born, What time the moon had gone to make His nightly dwelling with the Snake.

The high-souled monarch's consorts bore At different times those glorious four, Like to himself and virtuous, bright As Prosh?hapada's(135) four-fold light.

Then danced the nymphs' celestial throng, The minstrels raised their strain; The drums of heaven pealed loud and long, And flowers came down in rain.

Within Ayodhya, blithe and gay, All kept the joyous holiday.

The s.p.a.cious square, the ample road With mimes and dancers overflowed, And with the voice of music rang Where minstrels played and singers sang, And shone, a wonder to behold, With dazzling show of gems and gold.

Nor did the king his largess spare, For minstrel, driver, bard, to share; Much wealth the Brahmans bore away, And many thousand dine that day.

Soon as each babe was twelve days old 'Twas time the naming rite to hold.

When Saint Vasish?ha, rapt with joy, a.s.signed a name to every boy.

Rama, to him the high-souled heir, Bharat, to him Kaikeyi bare: Of Queen Sumitra one fair son Was Lakshma?, and Satrughna(136) one Rama, his sire's supreme delight, Like some proud banner cheered his sight, And to all creatures seemed to be The self-existent deity.

All heroes, versed in holy lore, To all mankind great love they bore.

Fair stores of wisdom all possessed, With princely graces all were blest.

But mid those youths of high descent, With lordly light preeminent.

Like the full moon unclouded, shone Rama, the world's dear paragon.

He best the elephant could guide.(137) Urge the fleet car, the charger ride: A master he of bowman's skill, Joying to do his father's will.

The world's delight and darling, he Loved Lakshma? best from infancy And Lakshma?, lord of lofty fate, Upon his elder joyed to wait, Striving his second self to please With friendship's sweet observances.

His limbs the hero ne'er would rest Unless the couch his brother pressed; Except beloved Rama shared He could not taste the meal prepared.

When Rama, pride of Reghu's race, Sprang on his steed to urge the chase, Behind him Lakshma? loved to go And guard him with his trusty bow.

As Rama was to Lakshma? dear More than his life and ever near, So fond Satrughna prized above His very life his Bharat's love.

Ill.u.s.trious heroes, n.o.bly kind In mutual love they all combined, And gave their royal sire delight With modest grace and warrior might: Supported by the glorious four Shone Dasaratha more and more, As though, with every guardian G.o.d Who keeps the land and skies, The Father of all creatures trod The earth before men's eyes.

Canto XX. Visvamitra's Visit.

Now Dasaratha's pious mind Meet wedlock for his sons designed; With priests and friends the king began To counsel and prepare his plan.

Such thoughts engaged his bosom, when, To see Ayodhya's lord of men, A mighty saint of glorious fame, The hermit Visvamitra(138) came.

For evil fiends that roam by night Disturbed him in each holy rite, And in their strength and frantic rage a.s.sailed with witcheries the sage.

He came to seek the monarch's aid To guard the rites the demons stayed, Unable to a close to bring One unpolluted offering.

Seeking the king in this dire strait He said to those who kept the gate: "Haste, warders, to your master run, And say that here stands Gadhi's son."

Soon as they heard the holy man, To the king's chamber swift they ran With minds disordered all, and spurred To wildest zeal by what they heard.

On to the royal hall they sped, There stood and lowly bowed the head, And made the lord of men aware That the great saint was waiting there.

The king with priest and peer arose And ran the sage to meet, As Indra from his palace goes Lord Brahma's self to greet.

When glowing with celestial light The pious hermit was in sight, The king, whose mien his transport showed, The honoured gift for guests bestowed.

Nor did the saint that gift despise, Offered as holy texts advise; He kindly asked the earth's great king How all with him was prospering.

The son of Kusik(139) bade him tell If all in town and field were well, All well with friends, and kith and kin, And royal treasure stored within: "Do all thy neighbours own thy sway?

Thy foes confess thee yet?

Dost thou continue still to pay To G.o.ds and men each debt?"

Then he, of hermits first and best, Vasish?ha with a smile(140) addressed, And asked him of his welfare too, Showing him honour as was due.

Then with the sainted hermit all Went joyous to the monarch's hall, And sate them down by due degree, Each one, of rank and dignity.

Joy filled the n.o.ble prince's breast Who thus bespoke the honoured guest: "As amrit(141) by a mortal found, As rain upon the thirsty ground, As to an heirless man a son Born to him of his precious one, As gain of what we sorely miss, As sudden dawn of mighty bliss, So is thy coming here to me: All welcome, mighty Saint, to thee.

What wish within thy heart hast thou?

If I can please thee, tell me how.

Hail, Saint, from whom all honours flow, Worthy of all I can bestow.

Blest is my birth with fruit to-day, Nor has my life been thrown away.

I see the best of Brahman race And night to glorious morn gives place.

Thou, holy Sage, in days of old Among the royal saints enrolled, Didst, penance-glorified, within The Brahman caste high station win.

'Tis meet and right in many a way That I to thee should honour pay.

This seems a marvel to mine eyes: All sin thy visit purifies; And I by seeing thee, O Sage, Have reaped the fruit of pilgrimage.

Then say what thou wouldst have me do, That thou hast sought this interview.

Favoured by thee, my wish is still, O Hermit, to perform thy will.

Nor needest thou at length explain The object that thy heart would gain.

Without reserve I grant it now: My deity, O Lord, art thou."

The glorious hermit, far renowned, With highest fame and virtue crowned, Rejoiced these modest words to hear Delightful to the mind and ear.

Canto XXI. Visvamitra's Speech.

The hermit heard with high content That speech so wondrous eloquent, And while each hair with joy arose,(142) He thus made answer at the close: "Good is thy speech O n.o.ble King, And like thyself in everything.

So should their lips be wisdom-fraught Whom kings begot, Vasish?ha taught.

The favour which I came to seek Thou grantest ere my tongue can speak.

But let my tale attention claim, And hear the need for which I came.

O King, as Scripture texts allow, A holy rite employs me now.

Two fiends who change their forms at will Impede that rite with cursed skill.(143) Oft when the task is nigh complete, These worst of fiends my toil defeat, Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'er The altar shed a stream of gore.

When thus the rite is mocked and stayed, And all my pious hopes delayed, Cast down in heart the spot I leave, And spent with fruitless labour grieve.

Nor can I, checked by prudence, dare Let loose my fury on them there: The muttered curse, the threatening word, In such a rite must ne'er be heard.

Thy grace the rite from check can free.

And yield the fruit I long to see.

Thy duty bids thee, King, defend The suffering guest, the suppliant friend.

Give me thy son, thine eldest born, Whom locks like raven's wings adorn.

That hero youth, the truly brave, Of thee, O glorious King, I crave.

For he can lay those demons low Who mar my rites and work me woe: My power shall shield the youth from harm, And heavenly might shall nerve his arm.

And on my champion will I shower Unnumbered gifts of varied power, Such gifts as shall ensure his fame And spread through all the worlds his name.

Be sure those fiends can never stand Before the might of Rama's hand, And mid the best and bravest none Can slay that pair but Raghu's son.

Entangled in the toils of Fate Those sinners, proud and obstinate, Are, in their fury overbold, No match for Rama mighty-souled.

Nor let a father's breast give way Too far to fond affection's sway.

Count thou the fiends already slain: My word is pledged, nor pledged in vain.

I know the hero Rama well In whom high thoughts and valour dwell; So does Vasish?ha, so do these Engaged in long austerities.