The Ramayana Part 92

First moved to ire by taunts and stings, Now soothed by gentle flatterings, To Dusha?, who his armies led, The demon Khara spoke, and said:

"Friend, from the host of giants call Full fourteen thousand, best of all, Slaves of my will, of fearful might, Who never turn their backs in fight: Fiends who rejoice to slay and mar, Dark as the clouds of autumn are: Make ready quickly, O my friend, My chariot and the bows I bend.

My swords, my shafts of brilliant sheen, My divers lances long and keen.

On to the battle will I lead These heroes of Pulastya's seed, And thus, O famed for warlike skill, Rama my wicked foeman kill."

He spoke, and ere his speech was done, His chariot glittering like the sun, Yoked and announced, by Dushan's care, With dappled steeds was ready there.

High as a peak from Meru rent It burned with golden ornament: The pole of lazulite, of gold Were the bright wheels whereon it rolled.

With gold and moonstone blazoned o'er, Fish, flowers, trees, rocks, the panels bore; Auspicious birds embossed thereon, And stars in costly emblem shone.

O'er flashing swords his banner hung, And sweet bells, ever tinkling, swung.

That mighty host with sword and shield And oar was ready for the field: And Khara saw, and Dushan cried, "Forth to the fight, ye giants, ride."

Then banners waved, and shield and sword Flashed as the host obeyed its lord.

From Janasthan they sallied out With eager speed, and din, and shout, Armed with the mace for close attacks, The bill, the spear, the battle-axe, Steel quoit and club that flashed afar, Huge bow and sword and scimitar, The dart to pierce, the bolt to strike, The murderous bludgeon, lance, and pike.

So forth from Janasthan, intent On Khara's will, the monsters went.

He saw their awful march: not far Behind the host he drove his car.

Ware of his master's will, to speed The driver urged each gold-decked steed.

Then forth the warrior's coursers sprang, And with tumultuous murmur rang Each distant quarter of the sky And realms that intermediate lie.

High and more high within his breast His pride triumphant rose, While terrible as Death he pressed Onward to slay his foes, "More swiftly yet," as on they fled, He cried in thundering tones Loud as a cloud that overhead Hails down a flood of stones.

Canto XXIII. The Omens.

As forth upon its errand went That huge ferocious armament, An awful cloud, in dust and gloom, With threatening thunders from its womb Poured in sad augury a flood Of rushing water mixt with blood.

The monarch's steeds, though strong and fleet, Stumbled and fell: and yet their feet Pa.s.sed o'er the bed of flowers that lay Fresh gathered on the royal way.

No gleam of sunlight struggled through The sombre pall of midnight hue, Edged with a line of b.l.o.o.d.y red, Like whirling torches overhead.

A vulture, fierce, of mighty size.

Terrific with his cruel eyes, Perched on the staff enriched with gold, Whence hung the flag in many a fold.

Each ravening bird, each beast of prey Where Janasthan's wild thickets lay, Rose with a long discordant cry And gathered as the host went by.

And from the south long, wild, and shrill, Came spirit voices boding ill.

Like elephants in frantic mood, Vast clouds terrific, sable-hued, Hid all the sky where'er they bore Their load of water mixt with gore.

Above, below, around were spread Thick shades of darkness strange and dread, Nor could the wildered glance descry A point or quarter of the sky.

Then came o'er heaven a sanguine hue, Though evening's flush not yet was due, While each ill-omened bird that flies a.s.sailed the king with harshest cries.

There screamed the vulture and the crane, And the loud jackal shrieked again.

Each hideous thing that bodes aright Disaster in the coming fight, With gaping mouth that hissed and flamed, The ruin of the host proclaimed.

Eclipse untimely reft away The brightness of the Lord of Day, And near his side was seen to glow A mace-like comet boding woe.

Then while the sun was lost to view A mighty wind arose and blew, And stars like fireflies shed their light, Nor waited for the distant night.

The lilies drooped, the brooks were dried, The fish and birds that swam them died, And every tree that was so fair With flower and fruit was stripped and bare.

The wild wind ceased, yet, raised on high, Dark clouds of dust involved the sky.

In doleful twitter long sustained The restless Sarikas(462) complained, And from the heavens with flash and flame Terrific meteors roaring came.

Earth to her deep foundation shook With rock and tree and plain and brook, As Khara with triumphant shout, Borne in his chariot, sallied out.

His left arm throbbed: he knew full well That omen, and his visage fell.

Each awful sign the giant viewed, And sudden tears his eye bedewed.

Care on his brow sat chill and black, Yet mad with wrath he turned not back.

Upon each fearful sight that raised The shuddering hair the chieftain gazed, And laughing in his senseless pride Thus to his giant legions cried: "By sense of mightiest strength upborne, These feeble signs I laugh to scorn.

I could bring down the stars that shine In heaven with these keen shafts of mine.

Impelled by warlike fury I Could cause e'en Death himself to die.

I will not seek my home again Until my pointed shafts have slain This Raghu's son so fierce in pride, And Lakshma? by his brother's side.

And she, my sister, she for whom These sons of Raghu meet their doom, She with delighted lips shall drain The lifeblood of her foemen slain.

Fear not for me: I ne'er have known Defeat, in battle overthrown.

Fear not for me, O giants; true Are the proud words I speak to you.

The king of G.o.ds who rules on high, If wild Airavat bore him nigh, Should fall before me bolt in hand: And shall these two my wrath withstand!"

He ended and the giant host Who heard their chief's triumphant boast, Rejoiced with equal pride elate, Entangled in the noose of Fate.

Then met on high in bright array, With eyes that longed to see the fray, G.o.d and Gandharva, sage and saint, With beings pure from earthly taint.

Blest for good works aforetime wrought, Thus each to other spake his thought: "Now joy to Brahmans, joy to kine, And all whom world count half divine!

May Raghu's offspring slay in fight Pulastya's sons who roam by night!"

In words like these and more, the best Of high-souled saints their hopes expressed, Bending their eager eyes from where Car-borne with G.o.ds they rode in air.

Beneath them stretching far, they viewed The giants' death-doomed mult.i.tude.

They saw where, urged with fury, far Before the host rolled Khara's car, And close beside their leader came Twelve giant peers of might and fame.

Four other chiefs(463) before the rest Behind their leader Dusha? pressed.

Impetuous, cruel, dark, and dread, All thirsting for the fray, The hosts of giant warriors sped Onward upon their way.

With eager speed they reached the spot Where dwelt the princely two,- Like planets in a league to blot The sun and moon from view.

Canto XXIV. The Host In Sight.

While Khara, urged by valiant rage, Drew near that little hermitage, Those wondrous signs in earth and sky Smote on each prince's watchful eye.

When Rama saw those signs of woe Fraught with destruction to the foe, With bold impatience scarce repressed His brother chief he thus addressed:

"These fearful signs, my brother bold, Which threaten all our foes, behold: All laden, as they strike the view, With ruin to the fiendish crew.

The angry clouds are gathering fast, Their skirts with dusty gloom o'ercast, And harsh with loud-voiced thunder, rain Thick drops of blood upon the plain.

See, burning for the coming fight, My shafts with wreaths of smoke are white, And my great bow embossed with gold Throbs eager for the master's hold.

Each bird that through the forest flies Sends out its melancholy cries.

All signs foretell the dangerous strife, The jeopardy of limb and life.

Each sight, each sound gives warning clear That foemen meet and death is near.

But courage, valiant brother! well The throbbings of mine arm foretell That ruin waits the hostile powers, And triumph in the fight is ours.

I hail the welcome omen: thou Art bright of face and clear of brow.

For Lakshma?, when the eye can trace A cloud upon the warrior's face Stealing the cheerful light away, His life is doomed in battle fray.

List, brother, to that awful cry: With shout and roar the fiends draw nigh.

With thundering beat of many a drum The savage-hearted giants come.

The wise who value safety know To meet, prepared, the coming blow: In paths of prudence trained aright They watch the stroke before it smite.

Take thou thine arrows and thy bow, And with the Maithil lady go For shelter to the mountain cave Where thickest trees their branches wave.

I will not have thee, Lakshma?, say One word in answer, but obey.

By all thy honour for these feet Of mine, dear brother, I entreat.

Thy warlike arm, I know could, smite To death these rovers of the night; But I this day would fight alone Till all the fiends be overthrown."

He spake: and Lakshma? answered naught: His arrows and his bow he brought, And then with Sita following hied For shelter to the mountain side.

As Lakshma? and the lady through The forest to the cave withdrew, "'Tis well," cried Rama. Then he braced His coat of mail around his waist.

When, bright as blazing fire, upon His mighty limbs that armour shone, The hero stood like some great light Uprising in the dark of night.

His dreadful shafts were by his side; His trusty bow he bent and plied, Prepared he stood: the bowstring rang, Filling the welkin with the clang.

The high-souled G.o.ds together drew The wonder of the fight to view, The saints made free from spot and stain, And bright Gandharvas' heavenly train.

Each glorious sage the a.s.sembly sought, Each saint divine of loftiest thought, And filled with zeal for Rama's sake.

Thus they whose deeds were holy spake: