The sanskrit epics, p.55

The Sanskrit Epics, page 55

 

The Sanskrit Epics
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  And gladly, with the morning’s light

  Drew near his host the anchorite.

  When Bharadvája saw him stand

  With hand in reverence joined to hand,

  When fires of worship had been fed,

  He looked upon the prince and said:

  “O blameless son, I pray thee tell,

  Did the past night content thee well?

  Say if the feast my care supplied

  Thy host of followers gratified.”

  His hands he joined, his head he bent

  And spoke in answer reverent

  To the most high and radiant sage

  Who issued from his hermitage:

  “Well have I passed the night: thy feast

  Gave joy to every man and beast;

  And I, great lord, and every peer

  Were satisfied with sumptuous cheer,

  Thy banquet has delighted all

  From highest chief to meanest thrall,

  And rich attire and drink and meat

  Banished the thought of toil and heat.

  And now, O Hermit good and great,

  A boon of thee I supplicate.

  To Ráma’s side my steps I bend:

  Do thou with friendly eye commend.

  O tell me how to guide my feet

  To virtuous Ráma’s lone retreat:

  Great Hermit, I entreat thee, say

  How far from here and which the way.”

  Thus by fraternal love inspired

  The chieftain of the saint inquired:

  Then thus replied the glorious seer

  Of matchless might, of vows austere:

  “Ere the fourth league from here be passed,

  Amid a forest wild and vast,

  Stands Chitrakúṭa’s mountain tall,

  Lovely with wood and waterfall.

  North of the mountain thou wilt see

  The beauteous stream Mandákiní,

  Where swarm the waterfowl below,

  And gay trees on the margin grow.

  Then will a leafy cot between

  The river and the hill be seen:

  ’Tis Ráma’s, and the princely pair

  Of brothers live for certain there.

  Hence to the south thine army lead,

  And then more southward still proceed,

  So shalt thou find his lone retreat,

  And there the son of Raghu meet.”

  Soon as the ordered march they knew,

  The widows of the monarch flew,

  Leaving their cars, most meet to ride,

  And flocked to Bharadvája’s side.

  There with the good Sumitrá Queen

  Kauśalyá, sad and worn, was seen,

  Caressing, still with sorrow faint,

  The feet of that illustrious saint,

  Kaikeyí too, her longings crossed,

  Reproached of all, her object lost,

  Before the famous hermit came,

  And clasped his feet, o’erwhelmed with shame.

  With circling steps she humbly went

  Around the saint preëminent,

  And stood not far from Bharat’s side

  With heart oppressed, and heavy-eyed.

  Then the great seer, who never broke

  One holy vow, to Bharat spoke:

  “Speak, Raghu’s son: I fain would learn

  The story of each queen in turn.”

  Obedient to the high request

  By Bharadvája thus addressed,

  His reverent hands together laid,

  He, skilled in speech, his answer made:

  “She whom, O Saint, thou seest here

  A Goddess in her form appear,

  Was the chief consort of the king,

  Now worn with fast and sorrowing.

  As Aditi in days of yore

  The all-preserving Vishṇu bore,

  Kauśalyá bore with happy fate

  Lord Ráma of the lion’s gait.

  She who, transfixed with torturing pangs,

  On her left arm so fondly hangs,

  As when her withering leaves decay

  Droops by the wood the Cassia spray,

  Sumitrá, pained with woe, is she,

  The consort second of the three:

  Two princely sons the lady bare,

  Fair as the Gods in heaven are fair.

  And she, the wicked dame through whom

  My brothers’ lives are wrapped in gloom,

  And mourning for his offspring dear,

  The king has sought his heavenly sphere, —

  Proud, foolish-hearted, swift to ire,

  Self-fancied darling of my sire,

  Kaikeyí, most ambitious queen,

  Unlovely with her lovely mien,

  My mother she, whose impious will

  Is ever bent on deeds of ill,

  In whom the root and spring I see

  Of all this woe which crushes me.”

  Quick breathing like a furious snake,

  With tears and sobs the hero spake,

  With reddened eyes aglow with rage.

  And Bharadvája, mighty sage,

  Supreme in wisdom, calm and grave,

  In words like these good counsel gave:

  “O Bharat, hear the words I say;

  On her the fault thou must not lay:

  For many a blessing yet will spring

  From banished Ráma’s wandering.”

  And Bharat, with that promise cheered,

  Went circling round that saint revered,

  He humbly bade farewell, and then

  Gave orders to collect his men.

  Prompt at the summons thousands flew

  To cars which noble coursers drew,

  Bright-gleaming, glorious to behold,

  Adorned with wealth of burnished gold.

  Then female elephants and male,

  Gold-girthed, with flags that wooed the gale,

  Marched with their bright bells’ tinkling chime

  Like clouds when ends the summer time:

  Some cars were huge and some were light,

  For heavy draught or rapid flight,

  Of costly price, of every kind,

  With clouds of infantry behind.

  The dames, Kauśalyá at their head,

  Were in the noblest chariots led,

  And every gentle bosom beat

  With hope the banished prince to meet.

  The royal Bharat, glory-crowned,

  With all his retinue around,

  Borne in a beauteous litter rode,

  Like the young moon and sun that glowed.

  The army as it streamed along,

  Cars, elephants, in endless throng,

  Showed, marching on its southward way,

  Like autumn clouds in long array.

  Canto XCIII. Chitrakúta In Sight.

  AS THROUGH THE woods its way pursued

  That mighty bannered multitude,

  Wild elephants in terror fled

  With all the startled herds they led,

  And bears and deer were seen on hill,

  In forest glade, by every rill.

  Wide as the sea from coast to coast,

  The high-souled Bharat’s mighty host

  Covered the earth as cloudy trains

  Obscure the sky when fall the rains.

  The stately elephants he led,

  And countless steeds the land o’erspread,

  So closely crowded that between

  Their serried ranks no ground was seen.

  Then when the host had travelled far,

  And steeds were worn who drew the car,

  The glorious Bharat thus addressed

  Vaśishṭha, of his lords the best:

  “The spot, methinks, we now behold

  Of which the holy hermit told,

  For, as his words described, I trace

  Each several feature of the place:

  Before us Chitrakúṭa shows,

  Mandákiní beside us flows:

  Afar umbrageous woods arise

  Like darksome clouds that veil the skies.

  Now tread these mountain-beasts of mine

  On Chitrakúṭa’s fair incline.

  The trees their rain of blossoms shed

  On table-lands beneath them spread,

  As from black clouds the floods descend

  When the hot days of summer end.

  Śatrughna, look, the mountain see

  Where heavenly minstrels wander free,

  And horses browse beneath the steep,

  Countless as monsters in the deep.

  Scared by my host the mountain deer

  Starting with tempest speed appear

  Like the long lines of cloud that fly

  In autumn through the windy sky.

  See, every warrior shows his head

  With fragrant blooms engarlanded;

  All look like southern soldiers who

  Lift up their shields of azure hue.

  This lonely wood beneath the hill,

  That was so dark and drear and still,

  Covered with men in endless streams

  Now like Ayodhyá’s city seems.

  The dust which countless hoofs excite

  Obscures the sky and veils the light;

  But see, swift winds those clouds dispel

  As if they strove to please me well.

  See, guided in their swift career

  By many a skilful charioteer,

  Those cars by fleetest coursers drawn

  Race onward over glade and lawn.

  Look, startled as the host comes near

  The lovely peacocks fly in fear,

  Gorgeous as if the fairest blooms

  Of earth had glorified their plumes.

  Look where the sheltering covert shows

  The trooping deer, both bucks and does,

  That occupy in countless herds

  This mountain populous with birds.

  Most lovely to my mind appears

  This place which every charm endears:

  Fair as the road where tread the Blest;

  Here holy hermits take their rest.

  Then let the army onward press

  And duly search each green recess

  For the two lion-lords, till we

  Ráma once more and Lakshmaṇ see.”

  Thus Bharat spoke: and hero bands

  Of men with weapons in their hands

  Entered the tangled forest: then

  A spire of smoke appeared in ken.

  Soon as they saw the rising smoke

  To Bharat they returned and spoke:

  “No fire where men are not: ’tis clear

  That Raghu’s sons are dwelling here.

  Or if not here those heroes dwell

  Whose mighty arms their foeman quell,

  Still other hermits here must be

  Like Ráma, true and good as he.”

  His ears attentive Bharat lent

  To their resistless argument,

  Then to his troops the chief who broke

  His foe’s embattled armies spoke:

  “Here let the troops in silence stay;

  One step beyond they must not stray.

  Come Dhrishṭi and Sumantra, you

  With me alone the path pursue.”

  Their leader’s speech the warriors heard,

  And from his place no soldier stirred,

  And Bharat bent his eager eyes

  Where curling smoke was seen to rise.

  The host his order well obeyed,

  And halting there in silence stayed

  Watching where from the thicket’s shade

  They saw the smoke appear.

  And joy through all the army ran,

  “Soon shall we meet,” thought every man,

  “The prince we hold so dear.”

  Canto XCIV. Chitrakúta.

  THERE LONG THE son of Raghu dwelt

  And love for hill and wood he felt.

  Then his Videhan spouse to please

  And his own heart of woe to ease,

  Like some Immortal — Indra so

  Might Swarga’s charms to Śachí show —

  Drew her sweet eyes to each delight

  Of Chitrakúṭa’s lovely height:

  “Though reft of power and kingly sway,

  Though friends and home are far away,

  I cannot mourn my altered lot,

  Enamoured of this charming spot.

  Look, darling, on this noble hill

  Which sweet birds with their music fill,

  Bright with a thousand metal dyes

  His lofty summits cleave the skies.

  See, there a silvery sheen is spread,

  And there like blood the rocks are red.

  There shows a streak of emerald green,

  And pink and yellow glow between.

  There where the higher peaks ascend,

  Crystal and flowers and topaz blend,

  And others flash their light afar

  Like mercury or some fair star:

  With such a store of metals dyed

  The king of hills is glorified.

  There through the wild birds’ populous home

  The harmless bear and tiger roam:

  Hyænas range the woody slopes

  With herds of deer and antelopes.

  See, love, the trees that clothe his side

  All lovely in their summer pride,

  In richest wealth of leaves arrayed,

  With flower and fruit and light and shade,

  Look where the young Rose-apple glows;

  What loaded boughs the Mango shows;

  See, waving in the western wind

  The light leaves of the Tamarind,

  And mark that giant Peepul through

  The feathery clump of tall bamboo.369

  Look, on the level lands above,

  Delighting in successful love

  In sweet enjoyment many a pair

  Of heavenly minstrels revels there,

  While overhanging boughs support

  Their swords and mantles as they sport:

  Then see that pleasant shelter where

  Play the bright Daughters of the Air.370

  The mountain seems with bright cascade

  And sweet rill bursting from the shade,

  Like some majestic elephant o’er

  Whose burning head the torrents pour.

  Where breathes the man who would not feel

  Delicious languor o’er him steal,

  As the young morning breeze that springs

  From the cool cave with balmy wings,

  Breathes round him laden with the scent

  Of bud and blossom dew-besprent?

  If many autumns here I spent

  With thee, my darling innocent,

  And Lakshmaṇ, I should never know

  The torture of the fires of woe,

  This varied scene so charms my sight,

  This mount so fills me with delight,

  Where flowers in wild profusion spring,

  And ripe fruits glow and sweet birds sing.

  My beauteous one, a double good

  Springs from my dwelling in the wood:

  Loosed is the bond my sire that tied,

  And Bharat too is gratified.

  My darling, dost thou feel with me

  Delight from every charm we see,

  Of which the mind and every sense

  Feel the enchanting influence?

  My fathers who have passed away,

  The royal saints, were wont to say,

  That life in woodland shades like this

  Secures a king immortal bliss.

  See, round the hill at random thrown,

  Huge masses lie of rugged stone

  Of every shape and many a hue,

  Yellow and white and red and blue.

  But all is fairer still by night:

  Each rock reflects a softer light,

  When the whole mount from foot to crest

  In robes of lambent flame is dressed;

  When from a million herbs a blaze

  Of their own luminous glory plays,

  And clothed in fire each deep ravine,

  Each pinnacle and crag is seen.

  Some parts the look of mansions wear,

  And others are as gardens fair,

  While others seem a massive block

  Of solid undivided rock.

  Behold those pleasant beds o’erlaid

  With lotus leaves, for lovers made,

  Where mountain birch and costus throw

  Cool shadows on the pair below.

  See where the lovers in their play

  Have cast their flowery wreaths away,

  And fruit and lotus buds that crowned

  Their brows lie trodden on the ground.

  North Kuru’s realm is fair to see,

  Vasvaukasárá,371 Naliní,372

  But rich in fruit and blossom still

  More fair is Chitrakúṭa’s hill.

  Here shall the years appointed glide

  With thee, my beauty, by my side,

  And Lakshmaṇ ever near;

  Here shall I live in all delight,

  Make my ancestral fame more bright,

  Tread in their path who walk aright,

  And to my oath adhere.”

  Canto XCV. Mandákiní.

  THEN RÁMA, LIKE the lotus eyed,

  Descended from the mountain side,

  And to the Maithil lady showed

  The lovely stream that softly flowed.

  And thus Ayodhyá’s lord addressed

  His bride, of dames the loveliest,

  Child of Videha’s king, her face

  Bright with the fair moon’s tender grace:

  “How sweetly glides, O darling, look,

  Mandákiní’s delightful brook,

  Adorned with islets, blossoms gay,

  And sárases and swans at play!

  The trees with which her banks are lined

  Show flowers and fruit of every kind:

  The match in radiant sheen is she

  Of King Kuvera’s Naliní.373

  My heart exults with pleasure new

  The shelving band and ford to view,

  Where gathering herds of thirsty deer

  Disturb the wave that ran so clear.

  Now look, those holy hermits mark

  In skins of deer and coats of bark;

  With twisted coils of matted hair,

  The reverend men are bathing there,

  And as they lift their arms on high

  The Lord of Day they glorify:

  These best of saints, my large-eyed spouse,

  Are constant to their sacred vows.

  The mountain dances while the trees

  Bend their proud summits to the breeze,

  And scatter many a flower and bud

  From branches that o’erhang the flood.

 

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