Reading section 34

with fruit and roots and flowers Ancestral shades and heavenly powers. Here every sense contented, still Heeding the bounds of good and ill, My settled course will I pursue, Firm in my faith and ever true. Here in this wild and far retreat Will I my noble task complete; And Fire and Wind and Moon shall be Partakers of its fruit with me. A hundred offerings duly wrought His rank o’er Gods for Indra bought, And mighty saints their heaven secured By torturing years on earth endured.” That scoffing plea the hero spurned, And thus he spake once more, Chiding, the while his bosom burned, Jáváli’s impious lore: “Justice, and courage ne’er dismayed, Pity for all distressed, Truth, loving honour duly paid To Bráhman, God, and guest— In these, the true and virtuous say, Should lives of men be passed: They form the right and happy way That leads to heaven at last. My father’s thoughtless act I chide That gave thee honoured place, Whose soul, from virtue turned aside, Is faithless, dark, and base. We rank the Buddhist with the thief,(388) And all the impious crew Who share his sinful disbelief, And hate the right and true. Hence never should wise kings who seek To rule their people well, Admit, before their face to speak, The cursed infidel. But twice-born men in days gone by, Of other sort than thou, Have wrought good deeds, whose glories high Are fresh among us now: This world they conquered, nor in vain They strove to win the skies: The twice-born hence pure lives maintain, And fires of worship rise. Those who in virtue’s path delight, And with the virtuous live,— Whose flames of holy zeal are bright, Whose hands are swift to give, Who injure none, and good and mild In every grace excel, Whose lives by sin are undefiled, We love and honour well.” Thus Ráma spoke in righteous rage Jáváli’s speech to chide, When thus again the virtuous sage In truthful words replied: “The atheist’s lore I use no more, Not mine his impious creed: His words and doctrine I abhor, Assumed at time of need. E’en as I rose to speak with thee, The fit occasion came That bade me use the atheist’s plea To turn thee from thine aim. The atheist creed I disavow, Unsay the words of sin, And use the faithful’s language now Thy favour, Prince, to win.”

Canto CX. The Sons Of Ikshváku.(389)

Then spake Vaśishṭha who perceived That Ráma’s soul was wroth and grieved: “Well knows the sage Jáváli all The changes that the world befall; And but to lead thee to revoke Thy purpose were the words he spoke. Lord of the world, now hear from me How first this world began to be. First water was, and naught beside; There earth was formed that stretches wide. Then with the Gods from out the same The Self-existent Brahmá came. Then Brahmá(390) in a boar’s disguise Bade from the deep this earth arise; Then, with his sons of tranquil soul, He made the world and framed the whole. From subtlest ether Brahmá rose: No end, no loss, no change he knows. A son had he, Maríchi styled, And Kaśyap was Maríchi’s child. From him Vivasvat sprang: from him Manu, whose fame shall ne’er be dim. Manu, who life to mortals gave, Begot Ikshváku good and brave: First of Ayodhyá’s kings was he, Pride of her famous dynasty. From him the glorious Kukshi sprang, Whose fame through all the regions rang. Rival of Kukshi’s ancient fame, His heir the great Vikukshi came. His son was Váṇa, lord of might, His Anaraṇya, strong in fight. No famine marred his blissful reign, No drought destroyed the kindly grain; Amid the sons of virtue chief, His happy realm ne’er held a thief, His son was Prithu, glorious name, From him the wise Triśanku came: Embodied to the skies he went For love of truth preëminent. He left a son renowned afar, Known by the name of Dhundhumár. His son succeeding bore the name Of Yuvanáśva dear to fame. He passed away. Him followed then His son Mándhátá, king of men. His son was blest in high emprise, Susandhi, fortunate and wise. Two noble sons had he, to wit Dhruvasandhi and Prasenajit. Bharat was Dhruvasandhi’s son: His glorious arm the conquest won, Against his son King Asit, rose In fierce array his royal foes, Haihayas, Tálajanghas styled, And Śaśivindhus fierce and wild. Long time he strove, but forced to yield Fled from his kingdom and the field. The wives he left had both conceived— So is the ancient tale believed:— One, of her rival’s hopes afraid, Fell poison in the viands laid. It chanced that Chyavan, Bhrigu’s child, Had wandered to the pathless wild Where proud Himálaya’s lovely height Detained him with a strange delight. Then came the other widowed queen With lotus eyes and beauteous mien, Longing a noble son to bear, And wooed the saint with earnest prayer. When thus Kálindí, fairest dame With reverent supplication came, To her the holy sage replied: “O royal lady, from thy side A glorious son shall spring ere long, Righteous and true and brave and strong; He, scourge of foes and lofty-souled, His ancient race shall still uphold.”

Then round the sage the lady went, And bade farewell, most reverent. Back to her home she turned once more, And there her promised son she bore. Because her rival mixed the bane To render her conception vain, And her unripened fruit destroy, Sagar she called her rescued boy.(391) He, when he paid that solemn rite,(392) Filled living creatures with affright: Obedient to his high decree His countless sons dug out the sea. Prince Asamanj was Sagar’s child: But him with cruel sin defiled And loaded with the people’s hate His father banished from the state. To Asamanj his consort bare Bright Anśumán his valiant heir. Anśumán’s son, Dilípa famed, Begot a son Bhagírath named. From him renowned Kakutstha came: Thou bearest still the lineal name. Kakutstha’s son was Raghu: thou Art styled the son of Raghu now. From him came Purushádak bold, Fierce hero of gigantic mould: Kalmáshapáda’s name he bore, Because his feet were spotted o’er. Śankhan his son, to manhood grown, Died sadly with his host o’erthrown, But ere he perished sprang from him Sudarśan fair in face and limb. From beautiful Sudarśan came Prince Agnivarṇa, bright as flame. His son was Śíghraga, for speed Unmatched; and Maru was his seed. Prasusruka was Maru’s child: His son was Ambarísha styled. Nahush was Ambarísha’s heir With hand to strike and heart to dare. His son was good Nábhág, from youth Renowned for piety and truth. From great Nábhág sprang children two Aja and Suvrat pure and true. From Aja Daśaratha came, Whose virtuous life was free from blame. His eldest son art thou: his throne, O famous Ráma, is thine own. Accept the sway so justly thine, And view the world with eyes benign. For ever in Ikshváku’s race The eldest takes his father’s place, And while he lives no son beside As lord and king is sanctified. The rule by Raghu’s children kept Thou must not spurn to-day. This realm of peerless wealth accept, And like thy father sway.”

Canto CXI. Counsel To Bharat.

Thus said Vaśishṭha, and again To Ráma spake in duteous strain: “All men the light of life who see With high respect should look on three: High honour ne’er must be denied To father, mother, holy guide. First to their sires their birth they owe, Nursed with maternal love they grow: Their holy guides fair knowledge teach: So men should love and honour each. Thy sire and thou have learned of me, The sacred guide of him and thee, And if my word thou wilt obey Thou still wilt keep the virtuous way. See, with the chiefs of every guild And all thy friends, this place is filled: All these, as duty bids, protect; So still the righteous path respect. O, for thine aged mother feel, Nor spurn the virtuous dame’s appeal: Obey, O Prince, thy mother dear, And still to virtue’s path adhere. Yield thou to Bharat’s fond request, With earnest supplication pressed, So wilt thou to thyself be true, And faith and duty still pursue.”

Thus by his saintly guide addressed With pleas in sweetest tones expressed, The lord of men in turn replied To wise Vaśishṭha by his side: “The fondest son’s observance ne’er Repays the sire and mother’s care: The constant love that food provides, And dress, and every need besides: Their pleasant words still soft and mild, Their nurture of the helpless child: The words which Daśaratha spake, My king and sire, I ne’er will break.”

Then Bharat of the ample chest The wise Sumantra thus addressed; “Bring sacred grass, O charioteer, And strew it on the level here. For I will sit and watch his face Until I win my brother’s grace. Like a robbed Bráhman will I lie,(393) Nor taste of food nor turn my eye, In front of Ráma’s leafy cot, And till he yield will leave him not.”

When Bharat saw Sumantra’s eye Looked up to Ráma for reply, The Prince himself in eager haste The sacred grass in order placed. Him great and mighty Ráma, best Of royal saints, in turn addressed: “What, Bharat, have I done, that thou Besiegest me,(394) a suppliant now? Thus streched, to force redress for wrongs To men of Bráhman birth belongs, Not those upon whose kingly head The consecrating drops are shed. Up, lord of men! arise, and quit This fearful vow for thee unfit. Go, brother, seek Ayodhyá’s town, Fair city of supreme renown.”

But Bharat, as his seat he took, Cast all around an eager look: “O people, join your prayers with mine, And so his stubborn heart incline.”

And all the people answered thus: “Full well is Ráma known to us. Right is the word he speaks and he Is faithful to his sire’s decree: Nor can we rashly venture now To turn him from his purposed vow.”

Then Ráma spoke: “O Bharat, heed Thy virtuous friends, and mark their rede. Mark well what I and these advise, And duty view with clearer eyes. Thy hand on mine, O hero, place, Touch water, and thy sin efface.”

Then Bharat rose: his hand he dipped, And purifying water sipped: “Each citizen,” he cried, “give ear, Attend, each counsellor and peer. My mother planned, by me untaught, To win the sway I never sought: Ne’er Raghu’s son could I despise, In duty’s lore supremely wise. Now if obedience to our sire This dwelling in the woods require, I, till the destined years be spent, Will dwell alone in banishment.”

The virtuous Ráma, wonder-stirred, The faithful speech of Bharat heard, And thus the hero’s feelings found Due utterance, as he gazed around:

“Still to my father’s word I hold, Whate’er he bought, or pledged, or sold: Ne’er shall his living promise be Annulled by Bharat or by me. Not thus my task will I evade, My exile on another laid: Most wise was Queen Kaikeyí’s rede, And just and good my father’s deed. Dear Bharat’s patient soul I know, How reverence due he loves to show; In him, high-souled and faithful found, Must each auspicious grace abound. When from the woods I turn again I with his aid shall nobly reign, With one so good, of peerless worth, A glorious lord of happy earth. Her boon Kaikeyí sought and won. I, as my father swore, have done: And O, do thou, my brother dear, The monarch’s name from falsehood clear.

Canto CXII. The Sandals.

High wonder mingled with delight Took the great sages at the sight, Thrilling their breasts who came to view The meeting of the peerless two. The saints and sages’ holy train Departed to their home again. And high each holy voice was raised, And thus the glorious brothers praised.

“High fate is his, the sire of two Most virtuous souls, so brave and true: With wonder and with joy intense Our ears have heard their conference.” Then the great sages, longing all To see the ten-necked tyrant(395) fall, To Bharat, bravest of the brave, Their salutary counsel gave:

“O thou of lofty lineage born, Whom wisdom, conduct, fame adorn, Thou for thy honoured father’s sake Shouldst Ráma’s righteous counsel take. All debts to Queen Kaikeyí paid, Thy sire his home in heaven has made, So virtuous Ráma we would see From filial obligation free.” Thus gave each royal sage advice, High saint, and bard of Paradise; Then quickly vanishing from view Each to his proper home withdrew. Then Ráma’s face his rapture showed, And his full heart with joy o’erflowed, While, as the sages parted thence, He paid his humble reverence.

Then Bharat shook in every limb As suppliant thus he spake to him: “The duty of a king respect, Held by our race in high respect: And O, thy gracious ear incline To heed my mother’s prayer and mine. The mighty realm to rule and guard For me alone is task too hard. No power have I the love to gain Of noble, citizen, and swain. All those who know thee, warrior, friend, On thee their eager glances bend, As labouring hinds who till the plain Look fondly for the Lord of Rain. O wisest Prince, thy realm secure, And make its firm foundations sure. Kakutstha’s son, thy mighty arm Can keep the nation free from harm.” He spoke, and fell in sorrow drowned At Ráma’s feet upon the ground, And there the hero sued and sighed, And “Hear me, Raghu’s son,” he cried.

Then Ráma raised him up, and pressed His brother to his loving breast, And sweetly as a wild swan cried To Bharat dark and lotus-eyed: “So just and true thy generous soul, Thy hand may well this earth control: But many a sage his aid will lend, With counsellor, and peer, and friend: With these advise: their counsel ask, And so perform thy arduous task. The moon his beauty may forgo, The cold forsake the Hills of Snow, And Ocean o’er his banks may sweep, But I my father’s word will keep. Now whether love of thee or greed Thy mother led to plan the deed, Forth from thy breast the memory throw, And filial love and reverence show.”

Thus spake Kauśalyá’s son: again Bharat replied in humble strain To him who matched the sun in might And lovely as the young moon’s light: “Put, noble brother, I entreat, These sandals on thy blessed feet: These, lord of men, with gold bedecked, The realm and people will protect.”

Then Ráma, as his brother prayed Beneath his feet the sandals laid, And these with fond affection gave To Bharat’s hand, the good and brave. Then Bharat bowed his reverent head And thus again to Ráma said: “Through fourteen seasons will I wear The hermit’s dress and matted hair: With fruit and roots my life sustain, And still beyond the realm remain, Longing for thee to come again. The rule and all affairs of state I to these shoes will delegate. And if, O tamer of thy foes, When fourteen years have reached their close, I see thee not that day return, The kindled fire my frame shall burn.”

Then Ráma to his bosom drew Dear Bharat and Śatrughna too: “Be never wroth,” he cried, “with her, Kaikeyí’s guardian minister: This, glory of Ikshváku’s line, Is Sítá’s earnest prayer and mine.” He spoke, and as the big tears fell, To his dear brother bade farewell. Round Ráma, Bharat strong and bold In humble reverence paced, When the bright sandals wrought with gold Above his brows were placed. The royal elephant who led The glorious pomp he found, And on the monster’s mighty head Those sandals duly bound. Then noble Ráma, born to swell The glories of his race, To all in order bade farewell With love and tender grace— To brothers, counsellers, and peers,— Still firm, in duty proved, Firm, as the Lord of Snow uprears His mountains unremoved. No queen, for choking sobs and sighs, Could say her last adieu: Then Ráma bowed, with flooded eyes, And to his cot withdrew.

Canto CXIII. Bharat’s Return.

Bearing the sandals on his head Away triumphant Bharat sped, And clomb, Śatrughna by his side, The car wherein he wont to ride. Before the mighty army went The lords for counsel eminent, Vaśishṭha, Vámadeva next, Jáváli, pure with prayer and text. Then from that lovely river they Turned eastward on their homeward way: With reverent steps from left to right They circled Chitrakúṭa’s height, And viewed his peaks on every side With stains of thousand metals dyed. Then Bharat saw, not far away, Where Bharadvája’s dwelling lay, And when the chieftain bold and sage Had reached that holy hermitage, Down from the car he sprang to greet The saint, and bowed before his feet. High rapture filled the hermit’s breast, Who thus the royal prince addressed: “Say, Bharat, is thy duty done? Hast thou with Ráma met, my son?”

The chief whose soul to virtue clave This answer to the hermit gave: “I prayed him with our holy guide: But Raghu’s son our prayer denied, And long besought by both of us He answered Saint Vaśishṭha thus: “True to my vow, I still will be Observant of my sire’s decree: Till fourteen years complete their course That promise shall remain in force.” The saint in highest wisdom taught, These solemn words with wisdom fraught, To him in lore of language learned Most eloquent himself returned: “Obey my rede: let Bharat hold This pair of sandals decked with gold: They in Ayodhyá shall ensure Our welfare, and our bliss secure.” When Ráma heard the royal priest He rose, and looking to the east Consigned the sandals to my hand That they for him might guard the land. Then from the high-souled chief’s abode I turned upon my homeward road, Dismissed by him, and now this pair Of sandals to Ayodhyá bear.”

To him the hermit thus replied, By Bharat’s tidings gratified: “No marvel thoughts so just and true, Thou best of all who right pursue, Should dwell in thee, O Prince of men, As waters gather in the glen. He is not dead, we mourn in vain: Thy blessed father lives again, Whose noble son we thus behold Like Virtue’s self in human mould.”

He ceased: before him Bharat fell To clasp his feet, and said farewell: His reverent steps around him bent, And onward to Ayodhyá went. His host of followers stretching far With many an elephant and car, Waggon and steed, and mighty train, Traversed their homeward way again. O’er holy Yamuná they sped, Fair stream, with waves engarlanded, And then once more the rivers’ queen, The blessed Gangá’s self was seen. Then making o’er that flood his way, Where crocodiles and monsters lay, The king to Śringavera drew His host and royal retinue. His onward way he thence pursued, And soon renowned Ayodhyá viewed. Then burnt by woe and sad of cheer Bharat addressed the charioteer: “Ah, see, Ayodhyá dark and sad, Her glory gone, once bright and glad: Of joy and beauty reft, forlorn, In silent grief she seems to mourn.”

Canto CXIV. Bharat’s Departure.

Deep, pleasant was the chariot’s sound As royal Bharat, far renowned, Whirled by his mettled coursers fast Within Ayodhyá’s city passed. There dark and drear was every home Where cats and owls had space to roam, As when the shades of midnight fall With blackest gloom, and cover all: As Rohiṇí, dear spouse of him Whom Ráhu hates,(396) grows faint and dim, When, as she shines on high alone The demon’s shade is o’er her thrown: As burnt by summer’s heat a rill Scarce trickling from her parent hill, With dying fish in pools half dried, And fainting birds upon her side: As sacrificial flames arise When holy oil their food supplies, But when no more the fire is fed Sink lustreless and cold and dead: Like some brave host that filled the plain, With harness rent and captains slain, When warrior, elephant, and steed Mingled in wild confusion bleed: As when, all spent her store of worth, Rocks from her base the loosened earth: Like a sad fallen star no more Wearing the lovely light it wore: So mournful in her lost estate Was that sad town disconsolate. Then car-borne Bharat, good and brave, Thus spake to him the steeds who drave: “Why are Ayodhyá’s streets so mute? Where is the voice of lyre and lute? Why sounds not, as of old, to-day The music of the minstrel’s lay? Where are the wreaths they used to twine? Where are the blossoms and the wine? Where is the cool refreshing scent Of sandal dust with aloe blent? The elephant’s impatient roar, The din of cars, I hear no more: No more the horse’s pleasant neigh Rings out to meet me on my way. Ayodhyá’s youths, since Ráma’s flight, Have lost their relish for delight: Her men roam forth no more, nor care Bright garlands round their necks to wear. All grieve for banished Ráma: feast, And revelry and song have ceased: Like a black night when floods pour down, So dark and gloomy is the town. When will he come to make them gay Like some auspicious holiday? When will my brother, like a cloud At summer’s close, make glad the crowd?”

Then through the streets the hero rode, And passed within his sire’s abode, Like some deserted lion’s den, Forsaken by the lord of men. Then to the inner bowers he came, Once happy home of many a dame, Now gloomy, sad, and drear, Dark as of old that sunless day When wept the Gods in wild dismay;(397) There poured he many a tear.

Canto CXV. Nandigrám.(398)

Then when the pious chief had seen Lodged in her home each widowed queen, Still with his burning grief oppressed His holy guides he thus addressed: “I go to Nandigrám: adieu, This day, my lords to all of you: I go, my load of grief to bear, Reft of the son of Raghu, there. The king my sire, alas, is dead, And Ráma to the forest fled; There will I wait till he, restored, Shall rule the realm, its rightful lord.”

They heard the high-souled prince’s speech, And thus with ready answer each Of those great lords their chief addressed, With saint Vaśishṭha and the rest: “Good are the words which thou hast said, By brotherly affection led, Like thine own self, a faithful friend, True to thy brother to the end: A heart like thine must all approve, Which naught from virtue’s path can move.”

Soon as the words he loved to hear Fell upon Bharat’s joyful ear, Thus to the charioteer he spoke: “My car with speed, Sumantra, yoke.” Then Bharat with delighted mien Obeisance paid to every queen, And with Śatrughna by his side Mounting the car away he hied. With lords, and priests in long array The brothers hastened on their way. And the great pomp the Bráhmans led With Saint Vaśishṭha at their head. Then every face was eastward bent As on to Nandigrám they went. Behind the army followed, all Unsummoned by their leader’s call, And steeds and elephants and men Streamed forth with every citizen. As Bharat in his chariot rode His heart with love fraternal glowed, And with the sandals on his head To Nandigrám he quickly sped. Within the town he swiftly pressed, Alighted, and his guides addressed: “To me in trust my brother’s hand Consigned the lordship of the land, When he these gold-wrought sandals gave As emblems to protect and save.” Then Bharat bowed, and from his head The sacred pledge deposited, And thus to all the people cried Who ringed him round on every side: “Haste, for these sandals quickly bring The canopy that shades the king. Pay ye to them all reverence meet As to my elder brother’s feet, For they will right and law maintain Until King Ráma come again. My brother with a loving mind These sandals to my charge consigned: I till he come will guard with care The sacred trust for Raghu’s heir. My watchful task will soon be done, The pledge restored to Raghu’s son; Then shall I see, his wanderings o’er, These sandals on his feet once more. My brother I shall meet at last, The burthen from my shoulders cast, To Ráma’s hand the realm restore And serve my elder as before. When Ráma takes again this pair Of sandals kept with pious care, And here his glorious reign begins, I shall be cleansed from all my sins, When the glad people’s voices ring With welcome to the new-made king, Joy will be mine four-fold as great As if supreme I ruled the state.”

Thus humbly spoke in sad lament The chief in fame preëminent: Thus, by his reverent lords obeyed, At Nandigrám the kingdom swayed. With hermit’s dress and matted hair He dwelt with all his army there. The sandals of his brother’s feet Installed upon the royal seat, He, all his powers to them referred, Affairs of state administered. In every care, in every task, When golden store was brought, He first, as though their rede to ask, Those royal sandals sought.

Canto CXVI. The Hermit’s Speech.

When Bharat took his homeward road Still Ráma 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 Ráma’s side they often sought. With gathering frowns the prince they eyed, And then withdrew and talked aside.