If to the words that I have said,
With Saint Vaśishṭha at their head
Thy holy men, O King, agree,
Then let thy Ráma go with me.
Ten nights my sacrifice will last,
And ere the stated time be past
Those wicked fiends, those impious twain,
Must fall by wondrous Ráma slain.
Let not the hours, I warn thee, fly,
Fixt for the rite, unheeded by;
Good luck have thou, O royal Chief,
Nor give thy heart to needless grief.”
Thus in fair words with virtue fraught
The pious glorious saint besought.
But the good speech with poignant sting
Pierced ear and bosom of the king,
Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear,
Fell prostrate and lay fainting there.
Canto XXII. Dasaratha’s Speech.
HIS TORTURED SENSES all astray,
While the hapless monarch lay,
Then slowly gathering thought and strength
To Viśvámitra spoke at length:
“My son is but a child, I ween;
This year he will be just sixteen.
How is he fit for such emprise,
My darling with the lotus eyes?
A mighty army will I bring
That calls me master, lord, and king,
And with its countless squadrons fight
Against these rovers of the night.
My faithful heroes skilled to wield
The arms of war will take the field;
Their skill the demons’ might may break:
Ráma, my child, thou must not take.
I, even I, my bow in hand,
Will in the van of battle stand,
And, while my soul is left alive,
With the night-roaming demons strive.
Thy guarded sacrifice shall be
Completed, from all hindrance free.
Thither will I my journey make:
Ráma, my child, thou must not take.
A boy unskilled, he knows not yet
The bounds to strength and weakness set.
No match is he for demon foes
Who magic arts to arms oppose.
O chief of saints, I have no power,
Of Ráma reft, to live one hour:
Mine aged heart at once would break:
Ráma, my child, thou must not take.
Nine thousand circling years have fled
With all their seasons o’er my head,
And as a hard-won boon, O sage,
These sons have come to cheer mine age.
My dearest love amid the four
Is he whom first his mother bore,
Still dearer for his virtues’ sake:
Ráma, my child, thou must not take.
But if, unmoved by all I say,
Thou needs must bear my son away,
Let me lead with him, I entreat,
A four-fold army144 all complete.
What is the demons’ might, O Sage?
Who are they? What their parentage?
What is their size? What beings lend
Their power to guard them and befriend?
How can my son their arts withstand?
Or I or all my armed band?
Tell me the whole that I may know
To meet in war each evil foe
Whom conscious might inspires with pride.”
And Viśvámitra thus replied:
“Sprung from Pulastya’s race there came
A giant known by Rávaṇ’s name.
Once favoured by the Eternal Sire
He plagues the worlds in ceaseless ire,
For peerless power and might renowned,
By giant bands encompassed round.
Viśravas for his sire they hold,
His brother is the Lord of Gold.
King of the giant hosts is he,
And worst of all in cruelty.
This Rávaṇ’s dread commands impel
Two demons who in might excel,
Márícha and Suváhu hight,
To trouble and impede the rite.”
Then thus the king addressed the sage:
“No power have I, my lord, to wage
War with this evil-minded foe;
Now pity on my darling show,
And upon me of hapless fate,
For thee as God I venerate.
Gods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth,145
The birds of air, the snakes of earth
Before the might of Rávaṇ quail,
Much less can mortal man avail.
He draws, I hear, from out the breast
The valour of the mightiest.
No, ne’er can I with him contend,
Or with the forces he may send.
How can I then my darling lend,
Godlike, unskilled in battle? No,
I will not let my young child go.
Foes of thy rite, those mighty ones,
Sunda and Upasunda’s sons,
Are fierce as Fate to overthrow:
I will not let my young child go.
Márícha and Suváhu fell
Are valiant and instructed well.
One of the twain I might attack.
With all my friends their lord to back.”
Canto XXIII. Vasishtha’s Speech.
WHILE THUS THE hapless monarch spoke,
Paternal love his utterance broke.
Then words like these the saint returned,
And fury in his bosom burned:
“Didst thou, O King, a promise make,
And wishest now thy word to break?
A son of Raghu’s line should scorn
To fail in faith, a man forsworn.
But if thy soul can bear the shame
I will return e’en as I came.
Live with thy sons, and joy be thine,
False scion of Kakutstha’s line.”
As Viśvámitra, mighty sage,
Was moved with this tempestuous rage,
Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,
And fear upon the Immortals came.
But Saint Vaśishṭha, wisest seer,
Observant of his vows austere,
Saw the whole world convulsed with dread,
And thus unto the monarch said:
“Thou, born of old Ikshváku’s seed,
Art Justice’ self in mortal weed.
Constant and pious, blest by fate,
The right thou must not violate.
Thou, Raghu’s son, so famous through
The triple world as just and true,
Perform thy bounden duty still,
Nor stain thy race by deed of ill.
If thou have sworn and now refuse
Thou must thy store of merit lose.
Then, Monarch, let thy Ráma go,
Nor fear for him the demon foe.
The fiends shall have no power to hurt
Him trained to war or inexpert,
Nor vanquish him in battle field,
For Kuśik’s son the youth will shield.
He is incarnate Justice, he
The best of men for bravery.
Embodied love of penance drear,
Among the wise without a peer.
Full well he knows, great Kuśik’s son,
The arms celestial, every one,
Arms from the Gods themselves concealed,
Far less to other men revealed.
These arms to him, when earth he swayed,
Mighty Kriśáśva, pleased, conveyed.
Kriśáśva’s sons they are indeed,
Brought forth by Daksha’s lovely seed,146
Heralds of conquest, strong and bold,
Brilliant, of semblance manifold.
Jayá and Vijayá, most fair,
And hundred splendid weapons bare.
Of Jayá, glorious as the morn,
First fifty noble sons were born,
Boundless in size yet viewless too,
They came the demons to subdue.
And fifty children also came
Of Vijayá the beauteous dame,
Sanháras named, of mighty force,
Hard to assail or check in course.
Of these the hermit knows the use,
And weapons new can he produce.
All these the mighty saint will yield
To Ráma’s hand, to own and wield;
And armed with these, beyond a doubt
Shall Ráma put those fiends to rout.
For Ráma and the people’s sake,
For thine own good my counsel take,
Nor seek, O King, with fond delay,
The parting of thy son to stay.”
Canto XXIV. The Spells.
VAŚISHṬHA THUS WAS speaking still:
The monarch, of his own free will,
Bade with quick zeal and joyful cheer
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ hasten near.
Mother and sire in loving care
Sped their dear son with rite and prayer:
Vaśishṭha blessed him ere he went;
O’er his loved head the father bent,
And then to Kuśik’s son resigned
Ráma with Lakshmaṇ close behind.
Standing by Viśvámitra’s side,
The youthful hero, lotus-eyed,
The Wind-God saw, and sent a breeze
Whose sweet pure touch just waved the trees.
There fell from heaven a flowery rain,
And with the song and dance the strain
Of shell and tambour sweetly blent
As forth the son of Raghu went.
The hermit led: behind him came
The bow-armed Ráma, dear to fame,
Whose locks were like the raven’s wing:147
Then Lakshmaṇ, closely following.
The Gods and Indra, filled with joy,
Looked down upon the royal boy,
And much they longed the death to see
Of their ten-headed enemy.148
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ paced behind
That hermit of the lofty mind,
As the young Aśvins,149 heavenly pair,
Follow Lord Indra through the air.
On arm and hand the guard they wore,
Quiver and bow and sword they bore;
Two fire-born Gods of War seemed they.150
He, Śiva’s self who led the way.
Upon fair Sarjú’s southern shore
They now had walked a league and more,
When thus the sage in accents mild
To Ráma said: “Beloved child,
This lustral water duly touch:
My counsel will avail thee much.
Forget not all the words I say,
Nor let the occasion slip away.
Lo, with two spells I thee invest,
The mighty and the mightiest.
O’er thee fatigue shall ne’er prevail,
Nor age or change thy limbs assail.
Thee powers of darkness ne’er shall smite
In tranquil sleep or wild delight.
No one is there in all the land
Thine equal for the vigorous hand.
Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,
Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell.
None in the world with thee shall vie,
O sinless one, in apt reply,
In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,
Wisdom to plan and skill to act.
This double science take, and gain
Glory that shall for aye remain.
Wisdom and judgment spring from each
Of these fair spells whose use I teach.
Hunger and thirst unknown to thee,
High in the worlds thy rank shall be.
For these two spells with might endued,
Are the Great Father’s heavenly brood,
And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,
Thou glory of Kakutstha’s race.
Virtues which none can match are thine,
Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,
And now these spells of might shall cast
Fresh radiance o’er the gifts thou hast.”
Then Ráma duly touched the wave,
Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,
And took the spells the hermit gave,
Whose soul on contemplation fed.
From him whose might these gifts enhanced,
A brighter beam of glory glanced:
So shines in all his autumn blaze
The Day-God of the thousand rays.
The hermit’s wants those youths supplied,
As pupils use to holy guide.
And then the night in sweet content
On Sarjú’s pleasant bank they spent.
Canto XXV. The Hermitage Of Love.
SOON AS APPEARED the morning light
Up rose the mighty anchorite,
And thus to youthful Ráma said,
Who lay upon his leafy bed:
“High fate is hers who calls thee son:
Arise, ’tis break of day;
Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done
Due at the morning’s ray.”151
At that great sage’s high behest
Up sprang the princely pair,
To bathing rites themselves addressed,
And breathed the holiest prayer.
Their morning task completed, they
To Viśvámitra came
That store of holy works, to pay
The worship saints may claim.
Then to the hallowed spot they went
Along fair Sarjú’s side
Where mix her waters confluent
With three-pathed Gangá’s tide.152
There was a sacred hermitage
Where saints devout of mind
Their lives through many a lengthened age
To penance had resigned.
That pure abode the princes eyed
With unrestrained delight,
And thus unto the saint they cried,
Rejoicing at the sight:
“Whose is that hermitage we see?
Who makes his dwelling there?
Full of desire to hear are we:
The hermit smiling made reply
To the two boys’ request:
“Hear, Ráma, who in days gone by
This calm retreat possessed.
Kandarpa in apparent form,
Called Káma153 by the wise,
Dared Umá’s154 new-wed lord to storm
And make the God his prize.
‘Gainst Stháṇu’s155 self, on rites austere
And vows intent,156 they say,
His bold rash hand he dared to rear,
Though Stháṇu cried, Away!
But the God’s eye with scornful glare
Fell terrible on him.
Dissolved the shape that was so fair
And burnt up every limb.
Since the great God’s terrific rage
Destroyed his form and frame,
Káma in each succeeding age
Has borne Ananga’s157 name.
So, where his lovely form decayed,
This land is Anga styled:
Sacred to him of old this shade,
And hermits undefiled.
Here Scripture-talking elders sway
Each sense with firm control,
And penance-rites have washed away
All sin from every soul.
One night, fair boy, we here will spend,
A pure stream on each hand,
And with to-morrow’s light will bend
Our steps to yonder strand.
Here let us bathe, and free from stain
To that pure grove repair,
Sacred to Káma, and remain
One night in comfort the
re.”
With penance’ far-discerning eye
The saintly men beheld
Their coming, and with transport high
Each holy bosom swelled.
To Kuśik’s son the gift they gave
That honoured guest should greet,
Water they brought his feet to lave,
And showed him honor meet.
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ next obtained
In due degree their share.
Then with sweet talk the guests remained,
And charmed each listener there.
The evening prayers were duly said
With voices calm and low:
Then on the ground each laid his head
And slept till morning’s glow.
Canto XXVI. The Forest Of Tádaká.
WHEN THE FAIR light of morning rose
The princely tamers of their foes
Followed, his morning worship o’er,
The hermit to the river’s shore.
The high-souled men with thoughtful care
A pretty barge had stationed there.
All cried, “O lord, this barge ascend,
And with thy princely followers bend
To yonder side thy prosperous way
With naught to check thee or delay.”
Nor did the saint their rede reject:
He bade farewell with due respect,
And crossed, attended by the twain,
That river rushing to the main.
When now the bark was half way o’er,
Ráma and Lakshmaṇ heard the roar,
That louder grew and louder yet,
Of waves by dashing waters met.
Then Ráma asked the mighty seer:
“What is the tumult that I hear
Of waters cleft in mid career?”
Soon as the speech of Ráma, stirred
By deep desire to know, he heard,
The pious saint began to tell
What paused the waters’ roar and swell:
“On high Kailása’s distant hill
There lies a noble lake
Whose waters, born from Brahmá’s will,
The name of Mánas158 take.
Thence, hallowing where’er they flow,
The streams of Sarjú fall,
And wandering through the plains below
Embrace Ayodhyá’s wall.
Still, still preserved in Sarjú’s name
Sarovar’s159 fame we trace.
The flood of Brahma whence she came
To run her holy race.
To meet great Gangá here she hies
With tributary wave:
Hence the loud roar ye hear arise,
Of floods that swell and rave.
Here, pride of Raghu’s line, do thou
In humble adoration bow.”
He spoke. The princes both obeyed,