Reading section 25

Kali's spell-- Albeit thou knew'st nought, fool--overmastered me; Yet will I visit not in wrathful wise My wrong on thee; live as thou wilt; I grant Wherewith to live, and set apart henceforth Thy proper goods and substance, and fit food. Nay, doubt not I shall show thee favor, too, And be in friendship with thee, if thou wilt, Who art my brother. Peace abide with thee!" Thus all-victorious Nala comforted His brother, and embraced him, sending him In honor to his town; and Pushkara-- Gently entreated--to Nishadha spake, With folded palms and humbled face, these words:-- "Unending be thy glory. May thy bliss Last and increase for twice five thousand years, Who grantest me wherewith to live, just Lord! And where to dwell." Thereafter, well bested, Pushkara sojourned with the Prince one moon; So to his town departed--heart-content-- With slaves and foot-soldiers and followers, Gay as a rising sun (O Bhârat's glory!). Thus sent he Pushkara, rich and safe, away. Then, with flags and drums and jewels, robed and royally arrayed, Nala into fair Nishadha entry high and dazzling made; At the gates the Raja, halting, spake his people words of love; Gathered were they from the city, gathered from the field and grove; From the mountain and the maidan, all a-thrill with joy to see Nala come to guard his children. "Happy now our days will be," Said the townsfolk, said the elders, said the villagers, "O King!" Standing all with palms upfolded: "Peace and fortune thou wilt bring To thy city, to thy country! Boundless welcome do we give, As the gods in heaven to Indra, when with them he comes to live." After, when the show was ended, and the city, calm and glad, Rest from tumult of rejoicing and rich flood of feasting had, Girt with shining squadrons, Nala fetched his pearl of women home. Like a queen did Damayanti back unto her palace come, By the Maharaja Bhima, by that mighty monarch sent Royally, with countless blessings, to her kingdom, in content. There, beside his peerless Princess, and his children, bore he sway, Godlike, even as Indra ruling 'mid the bliss of Nandana.[30] Bore he sway--my noble Nala--princeliest of all lords--who reign In the lands of Jambudwipa;[31] winning power and fame again; Ruling well his realm reconquered, like a just and perfect king, All the appointed gifts bestowing, all the rites remembering.

[22] Jhillikas are the large wood-crickets

[23] A caravan.

[24] This is a secretion which flows by a small orifice from the elephant's temples at certain seasons. It is sweet-smelling, and constantly alluded to in Hindoo poetry.

[25] "Gentleness is chief of virtues."

[26] These "curls" are the "Arvathas," or marks of good blood and high-breeding.

[27] "O Beautiful One!"

[28] This raining down of heavenly flowers on auspicious occasions is a frequent incident in ancient Indian poetry.

[29] A short; broad-bladed sword.

[30] Nandana is the Paradise of Indra.

[31] Ancient name of India: "The Land of the Rose-apple Tree."

SELECTIONS FROM THE RÁMÁYANA

BY

VÁLMÍKI

[_Metrical translation by R.T.H. Griffiths_]

INTRODUCTION

The ideas of the human family are few, as is apparent from the study of the literature of widely different nations. Thus the "Rámáyana" ranks in Hindoo with the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey" in Greek literature. The character of Ráma corresponds with that of Menelaus, for both the European and the Asiatic heroes have had their wives carried off from them--although Sítá, the bride of Ráma, is chaste as an icicle from Diana's temple, while Helen is the infamous type of wanton wives, ancient and modern. The Hindoo Lanka is Troy, and Ayodhyá is Sparta. The material civilization of the cities in the Hindoo epic is more luxurious and gorgeous than that which Homer attributes to Greece in the heroic age. Such splendor and refinement as invests social life at Lanka and Ayodhyá never appear amid the severe simplicity of Argos or Troy. The moral tone seems perhaps higher in India than in Greece during the periods described in their several epics--at least as far as mutual love and forbearance go--and the ideas of marriage and conjugal fidelity are equally exalted.

As to the literary quality of the Hindoo epic in comparison with Homer's work, we are at once impressed with the immense superiority of the Greek poem in artistic proportion, point, and precision. The Hindoo poet flounders along, amid a maze of prolix description and wearisome simile. Trifles are amplified and repeated, and the whole poem resembles a wild forest abounding in rich tropical vegetation, palms and flowers, but without paths, roads, or limits. Or rather, we are reminded of one of the highly painted and richly decorated idols of India, with their many heads and many hands: but when we turn to the Greek epic we stand before a statue of pure outline, flawless proportions, and more than human beauty.

It is difficult to fix the date of the "Rámáyana." Scholars generally agree that it belongs to the third century before Christ, in its original form, but that some recent portions were added even during the Christian era. It is reckoned as one of the sacred books, and the study of it is supposed to bring forgiveness of sin, and prosperity. Its author is thought to have been the famous poet Válmíki, but the work has evidently been rehandled several times, and there are three versions of the poems still extant. The poem consists of twenty-four thousand verses, and the story of it--now overlaid as it is with extravagant and fabulous accretions--is evidently founded on fact. The scene of the poem is laid in the city of Ayodhyá, the modern Oudh, which is described in glowing colors as a place of health, beauty, and prosperity--

"In by-gone ages built and planned By sainted Manu's princely hand."

In the splendid palace of the Rajah, at Oudh, lives Daśaratha, mourning in childlessness. He is one of the princes descended from the sun, and his line now threatens to become extinct. He determines to appeal to the Gods by the Asva-medha, the great sacrifice in which a horse is the victim. The rites accordingly are performed with unparalleled magnificence, and, at the close of the ceremony, the high priest declares to the king--

"Four sons, O Monarch, shall be thine, Upholders of the royal line."

Among the offspring duly granted to Daśaratha is Ráma, who is a typical Hindoo of the heroic type. His fair wife, Sítá, is carried off by the demon Ravana, who had assumed the form of a humble priest, or ascetic, in order to gain access to her. He carries her in his chariot to Lanka, the fair city built on an island of the sea. By the assistance of a large army of monkeys, Ráma marches against Lanka, and when they stand helpless--for the water separates them from Ceylon--he then invokes the goddess of the sea, as Achilles did Thetis, and she comes in radiant beauty, telling them how to bridge the waves. The monkeys bring timber and stones, the bridge is built, Lanka reached, and the battle begins. Indra sends his own chariot down from heaven to Ráma, who mounts it, and vanquishes Ravana in single combat, upon which Sítá is restored to her husband. E.W.

THE RÁMÁYANA

INVOCATION

Praise to Válmíki, bird of charming song, Who mounts on Poesy's sublimest spray, And sweetly sings with accent clear and strong Ráma, aye Ráma, in his deathless lay.

Where breathes the man can listen to the strain That flows in music from Válmíki's tongue, Nor feel his feet the path of bliss attain When Ráma's glory by the saint is sung?

The stream Rámáyan leaves its sacred fount The whole wide world from sin and stain to free. The Prince of Hermits is the parent mount, The lordly Ráma is the darling sea.

Glory to him whose fame is ever bright! Glory to him, Prachet's holy son! Whose pure lips quaff with ever-new delight The nectar-sea of deeds by Ráma done.

Hail, arch-ascetic, pious, good, and kind! Hail, Saint Válmíki, lord of every lore! Hail, holy Hermit, calm and pure of mind! Hail, First of Bards, Válmíki, hail once more!

BOOK I

CANTO I

NARAD

_Om_.

To sainted Nárad, prince of those Whose lore in words of wisdom flows, Whose constant care and chief delight Were Scripture and ascetic rite, The good Válmíki, first and best Of hermit saints, these words addressed:-- "In all this world, I pray thee, who Is virtuous, heroic, true? Firm in his vows, of grateful mind, To every creature good and kind? Bounteous, and holy, just, and wise, Alone most fair to all men's eyes? Devoid of envy, firm, and sage, Whose tranquil soul ne'er yields to rage? Whom, when his warrior wrath is high, Do Gods embattled fear and fly? Whose noble might and gentle skill The triple world can guard from ill? Who is the best of princes, he Who loves his people's good to see? The store of bliss, the living mine Where brightest joys and virtues shine? Queen Fortune's best and dearest friend, Whose steps her choicest gifts attend? Who may with Sun and Moon compare, With Indra, Vishnu, Fire, and Air? Grant, Saint divine, the boon I ask, For thee, I ween, an easy task, To whom the power is given to know If such a man breathe here below."

Then Nárad, clear before whose eye The present, past, and future lie, Made ready answer: "Hermit, where Are graces found so high and rare? Yet listen, and my tongue shall tell In whom alone these virtues dwell. From old Ikshváku's line he came, Known to the world by Ráma's name:-- With soul subdued, a chief of might, In Scripture versed, in glory bright. His steps in virtue's paths are bent, Obedient, pure, and eloquent. In each emprise he wins success, And dying foes his power confess. Tall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb, Fortune has set her mark on him. Graced with a conch-shell's triple line, His throat displays the auspicious sign. High destiny is clear impressed On massive jaw and ample chest. His mighty shafts he truly aims, And foemen in the battle tames. Deep in the muscle, scarcely shown, Embedded lies his collar-bone. His lordly steps are firm and free, His strong arms reach below his knee; All fairest graces join to deck His head, his brow, his stately neck, And limbs in fair proportion set:-- The manliest form e'er fashioned yet. Graced with each high imperial mark, His skin is soft and lustrous dark. Large are his eyes that sweetly shine With majesty almost divine. His plighted word he ne'er forgets; On erring sense a watch he sets. By nature wise, his teacher's skill Has trained him to subdue his will. Good, resolute and pure, and strong, He guards mankind from scathe and wrong, And lends his aid, and ne'er in vain, The cause of justice to maintain. Well has he studied o'er and o'er The Vedas and their kindred lore. Well skilled is he the bow to draw, Well trained in arts and versed in law; High-souled and meet for happy fate, Most tender and compassionate; The noblest of all lordly givers, Whom good men follow, as the rivers Follow the King of Floods, the sea:-- So liberal, so just is he. The joy of Queen Kauśalyá's heart, In every virtue he has part; Firm as Himálaya's snowy steep, Unfathomed like the mighty deep; The peer of Vishnu's power and might, And lovely as the Lord of Night; Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, Fierce as the world-destroying fire; In bounty like the Lord of Gold, And Justice' self in human mould. With him, his best and eldest son, By all his princely virtues won King Daśaratha willed to share His kingdom as the Regent Heir. But when Kaikeyí, youngest queen, With eyes of envious hate had seen The solemn pomp and regal state Prepared the prince to consecrate, She bade the hapless king bestow Two gifts he promised long ago, That Ráma to the woods should flee, And that her child the heir should be.

By chains of duty firmly tied, The wretched King perforce complied. Ráma, to please Kaikeyí went Obedient forth, to banishment. Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown, Then were his love and courage known, When for his brother's sake he dared All perils, and his exile shared. And Sítá, Ráma's darling wife, Loved even as he loved his life, Whom happy marks combined to bless, A miracle of loveliness, Of Janak's royal lineage sprung, Most excellent of women, clung To her dear lord, like Rohiní Rejoicing with the Moon to be. The King and people, sad of mood, The hero's car awhile pursued. But when Prince Ráma lighted down At Śringavera's pleasant town, Where Gangá's holy waters flow, He bade his driver turn and go. Guha, Nishádas' King, he met, And on the farther bank was set. Then on from wood to wood they strayed, O'er many a stream, through constant shade, As Bharadvája bade them, till They came to Chitrakúta's hill. And Ráma there, with Lakshman's aid, A pleasant little cottage made, And spent his days with Sítá, dressed In coat of bark and deerskin vest. And Chitrakúta grew to be As bright with those illustrious three As Meru's sacred peaks that shine With glory, when the Gods recline Beneath them: Śiva's self between The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen.

The aged King for Ráma pined, And for the skies the earth resigned. Bharat, his son, refused to reign, Though urged by all the twice-born train. Forth to the woods he fared to meet His brother, fell before his feet, And cried "Thy claim all men allow:-- O come, our lord and King be thou." But Ráma nobly chose to be Observant of his sire's decree. He placed his sandals in his hand, A pledge that he would rule the land:-- And bade his brother turn again. Then Bharat, finding prayer was vain, The sandals took and went away; Nor in Ayodhyá would he stay, But turned to Nandigráma, where He ruled the realm with watchful care, Still longing eagerly to learn Tidings of Ráma's safe return.

Then lest the people should repeat Their visit to his calm retreat, Away from Chitrakúta's hill Fared Ráma, ever onward till Beneath the shady trees he stood Of Dandaká's primeval wood. Virádha, giant fiend, he slew, And then Agastya's friendship knew. Counselled by him he gained the sword And bow of Indra, heavenly lord:-- A pair of quivers too, that bore Of arrows an exhaustless store. While there he dwelt in greenwood shade, The trembling hermits sought his aid, And bade him with his sword and bow Destroy the fiends who worked them woe:-- To come like Indra strong and brave, A guardian God to help and save. And Ráma's falchion left its trace Deep cut on Súrpanakhá's face:-- A hideous giantess who came Burning for him with lawless flame. Their sister's cries the giants heard, And vengeance in each bosom stirred; The monster of the triple head, And Dúshan to the contest sped. But they and myriad fiends beside Beneath the might of Ráma died.

When Rávan, dreaded warrior, knew The slaughter of his giant crew-- Rávan, the King, whose name of fear Earth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear-- He bade the fiend Márícha aid The vengeful plot his fury laid. In vain the wise Márícha tried To turn him from his course aside:-- Not Rávan's self, he said, might hope With Ráma and his strength to cope. Impelled by fate and blind with rage He came to Ráma's hermitage. There, by Márícha's magic art, He wiled the princely youths apart, The vulture slew, and bore away The wife of Ráma as his prey. The son of Raghu came and found Jatáyu slain upon the ground. He rushed within his leafy cot; He sought his wife, but found her not. Then, then the hero's senses failed; In mad despair he wept and wailed. Upon the pile that bird he laid, And still in quest of Sítá strayed. A hideous giant then he saw, Kabandha named, a shape of awe.

The monstrous fiend he smote and slew, And in the flame the body threw; When straight from out the funeral flame In lovely form Kabandha came, And bade him seek in his distress A wise and holy hermitess. By counsel of this saintly dame To Pampá's pleasant flood he came, And there the steadfast friendship won Of Hanumán the Wind-God's son. Counselled by him he told his grief To great Sugríva, Vánar chief, Who, knowing all the tale, before The sacred flame alliance swore. Sugríva to his new-found friend Told his own story to the end:-- His hate of Báli for the wrong And insult he had borne so long. And Ráma lent a willing ear And promised to allay his fear. Sugríva warned him of the might Of Báli, matchless in the fight, And, credence for his tale to gain, Showed the huge fiend by Báli slain. The prostrate corse of mountain size Seemed nothing in the hero's eyes; He lightly kicked it, as it lay, And cast it twenty leagues away. To prove his might his arrows through Seven palms in line, uninjured, flew. He cleft a mighty hill apart, And down to hell he hurled his dart. Then high Sugríva's spirit rose, Assured of conquest o'er his foes. With his new champion by his side To vast Kishkindhá's cave he hied. Then, summoned by his awful shout, King Báli came in fury out, First comforted his trembling wife, Then sought Sugríva in the strife. One shaft from Ráma's deadly bow The monarch in the dust laid low. Then Ráma bade Sugríva reign In place of royal Báli slain. Then speedy envoys hurried forth Eastward and westward, south and north, Commanded by the grateful King Tidings of Ráma's spouse to bring. Then by Sampáti's counsel led, Brave Hanumán, who mocked at dread, Sprang at one wild tremendous leap Two hundred leagues, across the deep. To Lanká's[32] town he urged his way, Where Rávan held his royal sway. There pensive 'neath Aśoka boughs He found poor Sítá, Ráma's spouse. He gave the hapless girl a ring, A token from her lord and King. A pledge from her fair hand he bore; Then battered down the garden door. Five captains of the host he slew, Seven sons of councillors o'erthrew; Crushed youthful Aksha on the field, Then to his captors chose to yield. Soon from their bonds his limbs were free, But honoring the high decree Which Brahmá had pronounced of yore, He calmly all their insults bore. The town he burnt with hostile flame, And spoke again with Ráma's dame, Then swiftly back to Ráma flew With tidings of the interview.

Then with Sugríva for his guide, Came Ráma to the ocean side. He smote the sea with shafts as bright As sunbeams in their summer height, And quick appeared the River's King Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore. They crossed to Lanká's golden town, Where Ráma's hand smote Rávan down. Vibhíshan there was left to reign Over his brother's wide domain. To meet her husband Sítá came; But Ráma, stung with ire and shame, With bitter words his wife addressed Before the crowd that round her pressed. But Sítá, touched with noble ire, Gave her fair body to the fire. Then straight the God of Wind appeared, And words from heaven her honor cleared. And Ráma clasped his wife again, Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, Obedient to the Lord of Fire And the high mandate of his sire. Led by the Lord who rules the sky, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honored him with worthy meed, Rejoicing in each glorious deed. His task achieved, his foe removed, He triumphed, by the Gods approved. By grace of Heaven he raised to life The chieftains slain in mortal strife; Then in the magic chariot through The clouds to Nandigráma flew. Met by his faithful brothers there, He loosed his votive coil of hair; Thence fair Ayodhyá's town he gained, And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. Disease or famine ne'er oppressed His happy people, richly blest With all the joys of ample wealth, Of sweet content and perfect health. No widow mourned her well-loved mate, No sire his son's untimely fate. They feared not storm or robber's hand, No fire or flood laid waste the land: The Golden Age seemed come again To bless the days of Ráma's reign. From him the great and glorious King, Shall many a princely scion spring. And he shall rule, beloved by men, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten, And when his life on earth is past To Brahmá's world shall go at last.

Whoe'er this noble poem reads That tells the tale of Ráma's deeds, Good as the Scriptures, he shall be From every sin and blemish free. Whoever reads the saving strain, With all his kin the heavens shall gain. Bráhmans who read shall gather hence The highest praise for eloquence. The warrior, o'er the land shall reign, The merchant, luck in trade obtain; And Súdras, listening, ne'er shall fail To reap advantage from the tale.

[_Cantos II., III., IV., and V. are omitted_.]

[32] Ceylon.

CANTO VI

THE KING

There reigned a King of name revered, To country and to town endeared, Great Daśaratha, good and sage, Well read in Scripture's holy page: Upon his kingdom's weal intent, Mighty and brave and provident; The pride of old Ikshváku's seed For lofty thought and righteous deed. Peer of the saints, for virtues famed, For foes subdued and passions tamed; A rival in his wealth untold Of Indra and the Lord of Gold. Like Manu first of kings, he reigned, And worthily his state maintained. For firm and just and ever true Love, duty, gain, he kept in view, And ruled his city rich and free, Like Indra's Amarávatí. And worthy of so fair a place There dwelt a just and happy race With troops of children blest. Each man contented sought no more, Nor longed with envy for the store By richer friends possessed. For poverty was there unknown, And each man counted as his own Kine, steeds, and gold, and grain. All dressed in raiment bright and clean, And every townsman might be seen With ear-rings, wreath or chain. None deigned to feed on broken fare, And none was false or stingy there. A piece of gold, the smallest pay, Was earned by labor for a day. On every arm were bracelets worn, And none was faithless or forsworn, A braggart or unkind. None lived upon another's wealth, None pined with dread or broken health, Or dark disease of mind. High-souled were all. The slanderous word, The boastful lie, were never heard. Each man was constant to his vows, And lived devoted to his spouse. No other love his fancy knew, And she was tender, kind, and true. Her dames were fair of form and face, With charm of wit and gentle grace, With modest raiment simply neat, And winning manners soft and sweet. The twice-born sages, whose delight Was Scripture's page and holy rite, Their calm and settled course pursued, Nor sought the menial multitude. In many a Scripture each was versed, And each the flame of worship nursed, And gave with lavish hand. Each paid to Heaven the offerings due, And none was godless or untrue In all that holy band. To Bráhmans, as the laws ordain, The Warrior caste were ever fain The reverence due to pay; And these the Vaiśyas' peaceful crowd, Who trade and toil for gain, were proud To honor and obey; And all were by the Súdras served, Who never from their duty swerved. Their proper worship all addressed To Bráhman, spirits, God, and guest. Pure and unmixt their rites remained, Their race's honor ne'er was stained. Cheered by his grandsons, sons, and wife, Each passed a long and happy life. Thus was that famous city held By one who all his race excelled, Blest in his gentle reign, As the whole land aforetime swayed By Manu, prince of men, obeyed Her king from main to main. And heroes kept her, strong and brave, As lions guard their mountain cave; Fierce as devouring flame they burned, And fought till death, but never turned. Horses had she of noblest breed, Like Indra's for their form and speed, From Váhli's hills and Sindhu's sand, Vanáyu and Kámboja's land. Her noble elephants had strayed Through Vindhyan and Himálayan shade, Gigantic in their bulk and height, Yet gentle in their matchless