Divine to see and well arrayed;

  And many a skilful tiring-maid,

  And many a young and trusty slave

  The father of the ladies gave.

  Silver and coral, gold and pearls

  He gave to his beloved girls.

  These precious gifts the king bestowed

  And sped his guest upon his road.

  The lord of Mithilá’s sweet town

  Rode to his court and lighted down.

  Ayodhyá’s monarch, glad and gay,

  Led by the seers pursued his way

  With his dear sons of lofty mind:

  The royal army marched behind.

  As on he fared the voice he heard

  Around of many a dismal bird,

  And every beast in wild affright

  Began to hurry to the right.

  The monarch to Vaśishṭha cried:

  “What strange misfortune will betide?

  Why do the beasts in terror fly,

  And birds of evil omen cry?

  What is it shakes my heart with dread?

  Why is my soul disquieted?”

  Soon as he heard, the mighty saint

  Thus answered Daśaratha’s plaint

  In sweetest tone: “Now, Monarch, mark,

  And learn from me the meaning dark.

  The voices of the birds of air

  Great peril to the host declare:

  The moving beasts the dread allay,

  So drive thy whelming fear away,”

  As he and Daśaratha spoke

  A tempest from the welkin broke,

  That shook the spacious earth amain

  And hurled high trees upon the plain.

  The sun grew dark with murky cloud,

  And o’er the skies was cast a shroud,

  While o’er the army, faint with dread,

  A veil of dust and ashes spread.

  King, princes, saints their sense retained,

  Fear-stupefied the rest remained.

  At length, their wits returning, all

  Beneath the gloom and ashy pall

  Saw Jamadagni’s son with dread,

  His long hair twisted round his head,

  Who, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat

  The proudest kings beneath his feet.

  Firm as Kailása’s hill he showed,

  Fierce as the fire of doom he glowed.

  His axe upon his shoulder lay,

  His bow was ready for the fray,

  With thirsty arrows wont to fly

  Like Lightnings from the angry sky.

  A long keen arrow forth he drew,

  Invincible like those which flew

  From Śiva’s ever-conquering bow

  And Tripura in death laid low.

  When his wild form, that struck with awe,

  Fearful as ravening flame, they saw,

  Vaśishṭha and the saints whose care

  Was sacrifice and muttered prayer,

  Drew close together, each to each,

  And questioned thus with bated speech:

  “Indignant at his father’s fate

  Will he on warriors vent his hate,

  The slayers of his father slay,

  And sweep the loathed race away?

  But when of old his fury raged

  Seas of their blood his wrath assuaged:

  So doubtless now he has not planned

  To slay all warriors in the land.”

  Then with a gift the saints drew near

  To Bhrigu’s son whose look was fear,

  And Ráma! Ráma! soft they cried.

  The gift he took, no word replied.

  Then Bhrigu’s son his silence broke

  And thus to Ráma Ráma spoke:

  Canto LXXV. The Parle.

  “HEROIC RÁMA, MEN proclaim

  The marvels of thy matchless fame,

  And I from loud-voiced rumour know

  The exploit of the broken bow,

  Yea, bent and broken, mighty Chief,

  A feat most wondrous, past belief.

  Stirred by thy fame thy face I sought:

  A peerless bow I too have brought.

  This mighty weapon, strong and dire,

  Great Jamadagni owned, my sire.

  Draw with its shaft my father’s bow,

  And thus thy might, O Ráma, show.

  This proof of prowess let me see —

  The weapon bent and drawn by thee;

  Then single fight our strength shall try,

  And this shall raise thy glory high.”

  King Daśaratha heard with dread

  The boastful speech, and thus he said;

  Raising his hands in suppliant guise,

  With pallid cheek and timid eyes:

  “Forgetful of the bloody feud

  Ascetic toils hast thou pursued;

  Then, Bráhman, let thy children be

  Untroubled and from danger free.

  Sprung of the race of Bhrigu, who

  Read holy lore, to vows most true,

  Thou swarest to the Thousand-eyed

  And thy fierce axe was cast aside.

  Thou turnedst to thy rites away

  Leaving the earth to Kaśyap’s sway,

  And wentest far a grove to seek

  Beneath Mahendra’s255 mountain peak.

  Now, mighty Hermit, art thou here

  To slay us all with doom severe?

  For if alone my Ráma fall,

  We share his fate and perish all.”

  As thus the aged sire complained

  The mighty chief no answer deigned.

  To Ráma only thus he cried:

  “Two bows, the Heavenly Artist’s pride,

  Celestial, peerless, vast, and strong,

  By all the worlds were honoured long.

  One to the Three-eyed God256 was given,

  By glory to the conflict driven,

  Thus armed fierce Tripura he slew:

  And then by thee ’twas burst in two.

  The second bow, which few may brave,

  The highest Gods to Vishṇu gave.

  This bow I hold; before it fall

  The foeman’s fenced tower and wall.

  Then prayed the Gods the Sire Most High

  By some unerring proof to try

  Were praise for might Lord Vishṇu’s due,

  Or his whose Neck is stained with Blue.257

  The mighty Sire their wishes knew,

  And he whose lips are ever true

  Caused the two Gods to meet as foes.

  Then fierce the rage of battle rose:

  Bristled in dread each starting hair

  As Śiva strove with Vishṇu there.

  But Vishṇu raised his voice amain.

  And Śiva’s bowstring twanged in vain;

  Its master of the Three bright Eyes

  Stood fixt in fury and surprise.

  Then all the dwellers in the sky,

  Minstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh,

  And prayed them that the strife might cease,

  And the great rivals met in peace.

  ’Twas seen how Śiva’s bow has failed

  Unnerved, when Vishṇu’s might assailed,

  And Gods and heavenly sages thence

  To Vishnu gave preëminence.

  Then glorious Śiva in his rage

  Gave it to Devarát the sage

  Who ruled Videha’s fertile land,

  To pass it down from hand to hand.

  But this my bow, whose shafts smite down

  The foeman’s fenced tower and town,

  To great Richíka Vishṇu lent

  To be a pledge and ornament,

  Then Jamadagni, Bráhman dread,

  My sire, the bow inherited.

  But Arjun stooped to treachery vile

  And slew my noble sire by guile,

  Whose penance awful strength had gained,

  Whose hand the God-given bow retained.

  I heard indignant how he fell

  By mournful fate, too sad to tell.

  My vengeful fury since that time

  Scourges all Warriors for the crime.

  As generations spring to life

  I war them down in endless strife.

  All earth I brought beneath my sway,

  And gave it for his meed and pay

  To holy Kaśyap, when of yore

  The rites performed by him were o’er.

  Then to Mahendra’s hill I turned

  Strong in the strength that penance earned,

  And toiled upon his lofty head

  By Gods immortal visited.

  The breaking of the bow I knew

  From startled Gods conversing, through

  The airy regions, of thy deed,

  And hither came with swiftest speed.

  Now, for thy Warrior’s honour sake,

  This best of bows, O Ráma, take:

  This, owned by Vishṇu’s self of old,

  My sire and grandsire loved to hold.

  Drawn to its head upon the string,

  One town-destroying arrow bring;

  If this thou can, O hero, I

  In single fight thy strength will try.”

  Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.

  THE HAUGHTY CHALLENGE, undeterred

  The son of Daśaratha heard,

  And cried, while reverence for his sire

  Checked the full torrent of his ire:

  “Before this day have I been told

  The deed that stained thy hands of old.

  But pity bids my soul forget:

  Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt.

  My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,

  Too feeble for a Warrior’s might.

  Now will I show thy wondering eyes

  The prowess which they dare despise.”

  He hastened then with graceful ease

  That mighty bow and shaft to seize.

  His hand the weapon strung and swayed:

  The arrow on the string was laid.

  Then Jamadagni’s son he eyed,

  And thus in words of fury cried:

  “Thou art a Bráhman, still to be

  Most highly honoured, Chief, by me.

  For Viśvámitra’s sake beside

  Shall reverence due be ne’er denied.

  Though mine the power, I would not send

  A dart at thee thy life to end.

  But thy great power to wander free,

  Which penance-rites have won for thee,

  Or glorious worlds from thee to wrest,

  Is the firm purpose of my breast,

  And Vishṇu’s dart which now I strain

  Can ne’er be shot to fall in vain:

  It strikes the mighty, and it stuns

  The madness of the haughty ones.”

  Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir

  Preceded by the General Sire,

  Met in the air and gazed below

  On Ráma with that wondrous bow.

  Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,

  Snake-God, and spirit of the air,

  Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met,

  Their eyes upon the marvel set.

  In senseless hush the world was chained

  While Ráma’s hand the bow retained,

  And Jamadagni’s son amazed

  And powerless on the hero gazed.

  Then when his swelling heart had shrunk,

  And his proud strength in torpor sunk,

  Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak,

  To Ráma lotus-eyed, to speak:

  “When long ago I gave away

  The whole broad land to Kaśyap’s sway

  He charged me never to remain

  Within the limits of his reign.

  Obedient to my guide’s behest

  On earth by night I never rest.

  My choice is made, I will not dim

  Mine honour and be false to him.

  So, son of Raghu, leave me still

  The power to wander where I will,

  And swifter than the thought my flight

  Shall place me on Mahendra’s height.

  My mansions of eternal joy,

  By penance won, thou mayst destroy,

  My path to these thy shaft may stay.

  Now to the work! No more delay!

  I know thee Lord of Gods; I know

  Thy changeless might laid Madhu low.

  All other hands would surely fail

  To bend this bow. All hail! all hail!

  See! all the Gods have left the skies

  To bend on thee their eager eyes,

  With whose achievements none compete,

  Whose arm in war no God can meet.

  No shame is mine, I ween, for thou,

  Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow.

  Now, pious Ráma, ’tis thy part

  To shoot afar that glorious dart:

  I, when the fatal shaft is shot,

  Will seek that hill and tarry not.”

  He ceased. The wondrous arrow flew,

  And Jamadagni’s offspring knew

  Those glorious worlds to him were barred,

  Once gained by penance long and hard.

  Then straight the airy quarters cleared,

  And the mid regions bright appeared,

  While Gods and saints unnumbered praised

  Ráma, the mighty bow who raised.

  And Jamadagni’s son, o’erawed.

  Extolled his name with highest laud,

  With reverent steps around him strode,

  Then hastened on his airy road.

  Far from the sight of all he fled,

  And rested on Mahendra’s head.

  Canto LXXVII. Bharat’s Departure.

  THEN RÁMA WITH a cheerful mind

  The bow to Varuṇ’s hand resigned.

  Due reverence to the saints he paid,

  And thus addressed his sire dismayed:

  “As Bhrigu’s son is far from view,

  Now let the host its march pursue,

  And to Ayodhyá’s town proceed

  In four-fold bands, with thee to lead.”

  King Daśaratha thus addressed

  His lips to Ráma’s forehead pressed,

  And held him to his aged breast.

  Rejoiced in sooth was he to know

  That Bhrigu’s son had parted so,

  And hailed a second life begun

  For him and his victorious son.

  He urged the host to speed renewed,

  And soon Ayodhyá’s gates he viewed.

  High o’er the roofs gay pennons played;

  Tabour and drum loud music made;

  Fresh water cooled the royal road,

  And flowers in bright profusion glowed.

  Glad crowds with garlands thronged the ways

  Rejoicing on their king to gaze

  And all the town was bright and gay

  Exalting in the festive day.

  People and Bráhmans flocked to meet

  Their monarch ere he gained the street.

  The glorious king amid the throng

  Rode with his glorious sons along,

  And passed within his dear abode

  That like Himálaya’s mountain showed.

  And there Kauśalyá, noble queen,

  Sumitrá with her lovely mien,

  Kaikeyí of the dainty waist,

  And other dames his bowers who graced,

  Stood in the palace side by side

  And welcomed home each youthful bride:

  Fair Sítá, lofty-fated dame,

  Urmilá of the glorious fame,

  And Kuśadhwaj’s children fair,

  With joyous greeting and with prayer,

  As all in linen robes arrayed

  With offerings at the altars prayed.

  Due reverence paid to God above,

  Each princess gave her soul to love,

  And hidden in her inmost bower

  Passed with her lord each blissful hour.

  The royal youths, of spirit high,

  With whom in valor none could vie,

  Lived each within his palace bounds

  Bright as Kuvera’s pleasure-grounds,

  With riches, troops of faithful friends,

  And bliss that wedded life attends:

  Brave princes trained in warlike skill,

  And duteous to their father’s will.

  At length the monarch called one morn

  Prince Bharat, of Kaikeyí born,

  And cried: “My son, within our gates

  Lord Yudhájit thine uncle waits.

  The son of Kekaya’s king is he,

  And came, my child, to summon thee.”

  Then Bharat for the road prepared,

  And with Śatrughna forth he fared.

  First to his sire he bade adieu,

  Brave Ráma, and his mothers too.

  Lord Yudhájit with joyful pride

  Went forth, the brothers by his side,

  And reached the city where he dwelt:

  And mighty joy his father felt.

  Ráma and Lakshmaṇ honoured still

  Their godlike sire with duteous will.

  Two constant guides for Ráma stood,

  His father’s wish, the people’s good.

  Attentive to the general weal

  He thought and wrought to please and heal.

  His mothers too he strove to please

  With love and sonly courtesies.

  At every time, in every spot,

  His holy guides he ne’er forgot.

  So for his virtues kind and true

  Dearer and dearer Ráma grew

  To Daśaratha, Bráhmans, all

  In town and country, great and small.

  And Ráma by his darling’s side

  Saw many a blissful season glide,

  Lodged in her soul, each thought on her,

  Lover, and friend, and worshipper.

  He loved her for his father’s voice

  Had given her and approved the choice:

  He loved her for each charm she wore

  And her sweet virtues more and more.

  So he her lord and second life

  Dwelt in the bosom of his wife,

  In double form, that, e’en apart,

  Each heart could commune free with heart.

  Still grew that child of Janak’s race,

  More goddess-fair in form and face,

  The loveliest wife that e’er was seen,

  In mortal mould sweet Beauty’s Queen.

  Then shone the son Kauśalyá bore,

  With this bright dame allied,

  Like Vishṇu whom the Gods adore,

  With Lakshmi by his side.

  BOOK II.

  Canto I. The Heir Apparent.

  SO BHARAT TO his grandsire went

  Obedient to the message sent,

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866 867 868 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878 879 880 881 882 883 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974 975 976 977 978 979 980 981 982 983 984 985 986 987 988 989 990 991 992 993 994 995 996 997 998 999 1000 1001 1002 1003 1004 1005 1006 1007 1008 1009