The hermit heard with high content
That speech so wondrous eloquent,
And while each hair with joy arose, [1]
[ p. 34 ]
He thus made answer at the close:
‘Good is thy speech O noble King,
And like thyself in everything.
So should their lips be wisdom-fraught
Whom kings begot, Vas’ishtha taught.
The favour which I came to seek
Thou grantest ere my tongue can speak.
But let my tale attention claim,
And hear the need for which I came,
O King, as Scripture texts allow,
A holy rite employs me now.
Two fiends who change their forms at will
Impede that rite with cursed skill. [2]
Oft when the task is nigh complete,
These worst of fiends my toil defeat,
Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o’er
The altar shed a stream of gore.
When thus the rite is mocked and stayed,
And all my pious hopes delayed,
Cast down in heart the spot I leave,
And spent with fruitless labour grieve.
Nor can I, checked by prudence, dare
Let loose my fury on them there:
The muttered curse, the threatening word,
In such a rite must ne’er be heard.
Thy grace the rite from check can free.
And yield the fruit I long to see.
Thy duty bids thee, King, defend
The suffering guest, the suppliant friend.
Give me thy son, thine eldest born,
Whom locks like raven’s wings adorn,
That hero youth, the truly brave,
Of thee, O glorious King, I crave,
For he can lay those demons low
Who mar my rites and work me woe:
My power shall shield the youth from harm,
And heavenly might shall nerve his arm.
And on my champion will I shower
Unnumbered gifts of varied power,
Such gifts as shall ensure his fame
And spread through all the worlds his name.
Be sure those fiends can never stand
Before the might of Ráma’s hand,
And mid the best and bravest none
Can slay that pair but Raghu’s son.
Entangled in the toils of Fate
Those sinners, proud and obstinate,
Are, in their fury overbold,
No match for Ráma mighty-souled.
Nor let a father’s breast give way
Too far to fond affection’s sway.
Count thou the fiends already slain:
My word is pledged, nor pledged in vain.
I know the hero Ráma well
In whom high thoughts and valour dwell;
So does Vas’ishtha, so do these
Engaged in long austerities.
If thou would do the righteous deed,
And win high fame, thy virtue’s meed,
Fame that on earth shall last and live,
To me. great King, thy Ráma give.
If to the words that I have said,
With Saint Vas’ishtha 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.
His tortured senses all astray,
Awhle the hapless monarch lay,
Then slowly gathering thought and strength
To Visvámitra 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 mghty army will I bring
That calls me master, lord, and king,
And with its countless squadrons fight
Against these rovers of the night.
Mv 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.
[ p. 35 ]
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 army [3] 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 Vis’vámitra thus replied:
‘Sprung from Pulastya’s race there came
A giant known by Rávan’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.
Vis’ravas 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 Rávan’s dread commands impel
Two demons who in might excel,
Maricha 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, [4]
The birds of air, the snakes of earth
Before the might of Rávan 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.
Maricha and Suváhu fell
Are valiant and instructed well.
One of the twain I might attack.
With all my friends their lord to back.’
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 Vis’vámitra, mighty sage,
Was moved with this tempestuous rage,
Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,
And fear upon the Immortals came.
But Saint Vas’ishtha, 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 Kus’ik’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.
[ p. 36 ]
Full well he knows, great Kus’ik’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 Kris’ás’va, pleased, conveyed.
Kris’ás’va’s sons they are indeed,
Brought forth by Daksha’s lovely seed, 1
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,
Samháras 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,’
Vas’ishtha thus was speaking still:
The monarch, of his own free will.
Bade with quick seal and joyful cheer
Ráma and Lakshman hasten near.
Mother and sire in loving care
Sped their dear son with rite and prayer:
Vas’ishtha blessed him ere he went;
O’er his loved head the father bent,
And then to Kus’ik’s son resigned
Ráma with Lakshman close behind.
Standing by Vis’vámitra’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; [5]
Then Lakshman, 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. [6]
Ráma and Lakshman paced behind
That hermit of the lofty mind.
As the young As’vins, [7] 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. [8]
He, S’iva’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
ln tranquil sleep or wild delight.
No one is there in all the land
Thine equal for the vigorous hand.
[ p. 37 ]
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.
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.’ [9]
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 Vis’vámitra 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. [10]
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:
O Saint, the truth declare.’
The hermit smiling made reply
To the two boys’ request:
‘Hear, Rama, who in days gone by
This calm retreat possessed.
Kandarpa in apparent form,
Called Káma [11] by the wise,
Dared Umá’s [12] new-wed lord to storm
And make the God his prize.
‘Gainst Sthánu’s [13] self, on rites austere
And vows intent, [14] they say,
His bold rash hand be dared to rear,
Though Sthánu cried, Away!
But the God’s eye with scornful glare
Fell terrible on him.
Dissolved the shape that was so fair
[ p. 38 ]
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’s 1 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 there.’
With penance’ far-discerning eye
The saintly men beheld
Their coming, and with transport high
Each holy bosom swelled.
To Kus’ik’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 Lakshman 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.
When the fair light of morning rose
The princely turners 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 Lakshman 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 Mánas [15] 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’s [16] 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,
And reverence to each river paid. [17]
They reached the southern shore at last,
And gaily on their journey passed.
A little space beyond there stood
A gloomy awe-inspiring wood.
The monarch’s noble son began
To question thus the holy man:
‘Whose gloomy forest meets mine eye
Like some vast cloud that fills the sky?
Pathless and dark it seems to be,
Where birds in thousands wander free;
Where shrill cicadas’ cries resound,
[ p. 39 ]
And fowl of dismal note abound,
Lion, rhinoceros, and bear,
Boar, tiger, elephant, are there,
There shrubs and thorns run wild:
Dháo, Sál, Bignonia, Bel, [18] are found,
And every tree that grows on ground.
How is the forest styled?’
The glorious saint this answer made:
'Dear child of Raghu, hear
Who dwells within the horrid shade
That looks so dark and drear.
Where now is wood, long ere this day
Two broad and fertile lands,
Malaja and Karúsha lay.
Adorned by heavenly hands.
Here, mourning friendship’s broken ties,
Lord Indra of the thousand eyes
Hungered and sorrowed many a day,
His brightness soiled with mud and clay,
When in a storm of passion he
Had slain his dear friend Namuchi.
Then came the Gods and saints who bore
Their golden pitchers brimming o’er
With holy streams that banish stain,
And bathed Lord Indra pure again.
When in this land the God was freed
From spot and stain of impious deed
For that his own dear friend he slew,
High transport thrilled his bosom through.
Then in his joy the lands he blessed,
And gave a boon they long possessed:
‘Because these fertile lands retain
The washings of the blot and stain,’
‘Twas thus Lord Indra sware,
‘Malaja and Karúsha’s name
Shall celebrate with deathless fame
My malady and care.’ [19]
‘So be it’, all the Immortals cried,
When Indra’s speech they heard,
And with acclaim they ratified
The names his lips conferred.
Long time, O victor of thy foes,
These happy lands had sweet repose,
And higher still in fortune rose.
At length a spirit, loving ill,
Tádaká , wearing shapes at will,
Whose mighty strength, exceeding vast
A thousand elephants, surpassed,
Was to fierce Sunda, lord and head
Of all the demon armies, wed.
From her, Lord Indra’s peer in might
Giant Máricha sprang to light:
And she, a constant plague and pest,
These two fair realms has long distressed.
Now dwelling in her dark abode
A league away she bars the road:
And we, O Ráma, hence must go
Where lies the forest of the foe.
Now on thine own right arm rely,
And my command obey:
Smite the foul monster that she die.
And take the plague away.
To reach this country none may dare
Fallen from its old estate,
Which she, whose fury naught can bear,
Has left so desolate.
And now my truthful tale is told
How with accursed sway
The spirit plagued this wood of old,
And ceases not to-day.’
When thus the sage without a peer
Had closed that story strange to hear.
Ráma again the saint addressed
To set one lingering doubt at rest:
‘O holy man, ‘tis said by all
That spirits’ strength is weak and small:
How can she match, of power so slight,
A thousand elephants in might?’
And Vis’vámitra thus replied
To Raghu’s son the glorified:
‘Listen, and I will tell thee how
She gained the strength that arms her now.
A mighty spirit lived of yore;
Suketu was the name he bore.
Childless was he, and free from crime
In rites austere he passed his time.
The mighty Sire was pleased to show
His favour, and a child bestow.
Tádaká named, most fair to see.
A pearl among the maids was she.
And matched, for such was Brahmá’s dower,
A thousand elephants in power.
Nor would the Eternal Sire, although
The spirit longed, a son bestow.
That maid in beauty’s youthful pride
Was given to Sunda for a bride.
Her son, Máricha was his name,
A giant, through a curse, became.
She, widowed, dared with him molest
[ p. 40 ]
Agastya, [20] of all saints the best.
Inflamed with hunger’s wildest rage,
Roaring she rushed upon the sage.
When the great hermit saw her near,
On speeding in her fierce career,
He thus pronounced Márícha’s doom:
‘A giant’s form and shape assume.’
And then, by mighty anger swayed,
On Tádaká this curse he laid:
‘Thy present form and semblance quit,
And wear a shape thy mood to fit;
Changed form and feature by my ban.
A fearful thing that feeds on man.’
She, by his awful curse possessed,
And mad with rage that fills her breast,
Has on this land her fury dealt
Where once the saint Agastya dwelt.
Go, Ráma, smite this monster dead,
The wicked plague, of power so dread,
And further by this deed of thine,
The good of Bráhmans and of kine,
Thy hand alone can overthrow,
In all the worlds, this impious foe.
Nor let compassion lead thy mind
To shrink from blood of womankind;
A monarch’s son must ever count
The people’s welfare paramount.
And whether pain or joy he deal
Dare all things for his subjects’ weal;
Yea, if the deed bring praise or guilt,
If life be saved or blood be spilt:
Such, through all time, should be the care
Of those a kingdom’s weight who bear.
Slay, Ráma, slay this impious fiend,
For by no law her life is screened.
So Manthará, as bards have told,
Virochan’s child, was slain of old
By Indra, when in furious hate
She longed the earth to devastate.
So Kávya’s mother, Bhrigu’s wife,
Who loved her husband as her life,
When Indra’s throne she sought to gain,
By Vishnu’s hand of yore was slain.
By these and high-souled kings beside,
Struck down, have lawless women died.’
Thus spoke the saint. Each vigorous word
The noble monarch’s offspring heard,
And, reverent hands together laid,
His answer to the hermit made:
‘My sire and mother bade me aye
Thy word, O mighty Saint, obey
So will I, O most glorious, kill
This Tádaká who joys in ill,
For such my sire’s, and such thy will.
To aid with mine avenging hand
The Bráhmans, kine, and all the land,
Obedient, heart and soul, I stand.’
Thus spoke the tamer of the foe,
And by the middle grasped his bow.
Strongly he drew the sounding string
That made the distant welkin ring.
Scared by the mighty clang the deer
That roamed the forest shook with fear.
And Tádaká the echo heard,
And rose in haste from slumber stirred.
In wild amaze, her soul aflame
With fury toward the spot she came.
When that foul shape of evil mien
And stature vast as e’er was seen
The wrathful son of Raghu eyed,
He thus unto his brother cried:
‘Her dreadful shape, O Lakshman, see,
A form to shudder at and flee.
The hideous monster’s very view
Would cleave a timid heart in two.
Behold the demon hard to smite,
Defended by her magic might.
My hand shall stay her course to-day,
And shear her nose and ears away.
No heart have I her life to take:
I spare it for her sex’s sake.
My will is but, with 'minished force,
To check her in her evil course.’
While thus he spoke, by rage impelled
Roaring as she came nigh,
The fiend her course at Ráma held
With huge arms tossed on high.
Her, rushing on, the seer assailed
With a loud cry of hate;
And thus the sons of Raghu hailed:
‘Fight, and be fortunate.’
Then from the earth a horrid cloud
Of dust the demon raised,
And for awhile in darkling shroud
Wrapt Raghu’s sons amazed.
Then calling on her magic power
The fearful fight to wage,
She smote him with a stony shower,
Till Ráma burned with rage.
Then pouring forth his arrowy rain
That stony flood to stay,
[ p. 41 ]
With winged darts, as she charged amain,
He shore her hands away.
As Tádaká still thundered near
Thus maimed by Ráma’s blows,
Lakshman in fury severed sheer
The monster’s ears and nose.
Assuming by her magic skill,
A fresh and fresh disguise,
She tried a thousand shapes at will,
Then vanished from their eyes.
When Gádhi’s son of high renown
Still saw the stony rain pour down
Upon each princely warrior’s head,
With words of wisdom thus he said:
‘Enough of mercy, Ráma, lest
This sinful evil-working pest,
Disturber of each holy rite,
Repair by magic arts her might.
Without delay the fiend should die,
For, see, the twilight hour is nigh.
And at the joints of night and day
Such giant foes are hard to slay.’
Then Ráma, skilful to direct
His arrow to the sound,
With shafts the mighty demon checked
Who rained her stones around.
She sore impeded and beset
By Ráma and his arrowy net,
Though skilled in guile and magic lore,
Rushed on the brothers with a roar.
Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread,
Swift as the levin on she sped,
Like cloudy pile in autumn’s sky,
Lifting her two vast arms on high,
When Ráma smote her with a dart,
Shaped like a crescent, to the heart.
Sore wounded by the shaft that came
With lightning speed and surest aim,
Blood spouting from her mouth and side.
She fell upon the earth and died.
Soon as the Lord who rules the sky
Saw the dread monster lifeless lie,
He called aloud, Well done! well done!
And the Gods honoured Raghu’s son.
Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed,
With all the Immortals, joying cried:
‘Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and see
The Gods and Indra nigh to thee.
This deed of Ráma’s boundless might
Has filled our bosoms with delight,
Now, for our will would have it so,
To Raghu’s son some favour show.
Invest him with the power which naught
But penance gains and holy thought,
Those heavenly arms on him bestow
To thee entrusted long ago
By great Krisás’va best of kings,
Son of the Lord of living things,
More fit recipient none can be
Than he who joys it following thee
And for our sakes the monarch’s seed
Has yet to do a mighty deed.’
He spoke; and all the heavenly train
Rejoicing sought their homes again,
While honour to the saint they paid.
Then came the evening’s twilight shade,
The best of hermits overjoyed
To know the monstrous fiend destroyed,
His lips on Ráma’s forehead pressed,
And thus the conquering chief addressed:
‘O Ráma gracious to the sight.
Here will we pass the present night,
And with the morrow’s earliest ray
Bend to my hermitage our way.’
The son of Das’aratha heard,
Delighted, Vis’vámitra’s word,
And as he bade, that night he spent
In Tádaká’s wild wood, content.
And the grove shone that happy day,
Freed from the curse that on it lay,
Like Chaitraratha 1 fair and gay.
That night they slept and took their rest;
And then the mighty saint addressed,
With pleasant smile and accents mild
These words to Raghu’s princely child:
‘Well pleased am I. High fate be thine,
Thou scion of a royal line.
Now will I, for I love thee so,
All heavenly arms on thee bestow.
Victor with these, whoe’er oppose,
Thy hand shall conquer all thy foes,
Though Gods and spirits of the air,
Serpents and fiends, the conflict dare.
I’ll give thee as a pledge of lore
The mystic arms they use above,
For worthy thou to have revealed
The weapons I have learnt to wield.
[ p. 42 ]
First, son of Raghu, shall be thine
The arm of Vengeance, strong, divine:
The arm of Fate, the arm of Right,
And Vishnu’s arm of awful might:
That, before whioh no foe can stand,
The thunderbolt of Indra’s hand;
And S’iva’s trident, sharp and dread,
And that dire weapon Brahmá’s Head,
And two fair clubs, O royal child,
One Charmer and one Pointed styled
With flame of lambent fire aglow,
On thee, O Chieftain, I bestow.
And Fate’s dread net and Justice’ noose
That none may conquer, for thy use:
And the great cord, renowned of old,
Which Varun ever loves to hold.
Take these two thunderbolts, which I
Have got for thee, the Moist and Dry,
Here S’iva’s dart to thee I yield,
And that which Vishnu wont to wield.
I give to thee the arm of Fire,
Desired by all and named the Spire.
To thee I grant the Wind-God’s dart,
Named Crusher, O thou pure of heart.
This arm, the Horse’s Head, accept,
And this, the Curlew’s Bill yclept,
And these two spears, the best e’er flew,
Named the Invincible and True.
And arms of fiends I make thine own,
Skull-wreath and mace that smashes bone.
And Joyous, whioh the spirits bear,
Great weapon of the sons of air.
Brave offspring of the best of lords,
I give thee now the Gem of swords,
And offer next, thine hand to arm,
The heavenly bards’ beloved charm.
Now with two arms I thee invest
Of never-ending Sleep and Rest,
With weapons of the Sun and Rain,
And those that dry and burn amain;
And strong Desire with conquering touch,
The dart that Káma prizes much.
I give the arm of shadowy powers
That bleeding flesh of men devours.
I give the arms the God of Gold
And giant fiends exult to hold.
This smites the foe in battle-strife,
And takes his fortune, strength, and life.
I give the arms called False and True,
And great Illusion give I too;
The hero’s arm called Strong and Bright
That spoils the foeman’s strength in fight.
I give thee as a priceless boon
The Dew, the weapon of the Moon,
And add the weapon, deftly planned,
That strengthens Vis’vakarmá’s hand.
The Mortal dart whose point is chill,
And Slaughter, ever sure to kill;
All these and other arms, for thou
Art very dear, I give thee now.
Receive these weapons from my hand,
Son of the noblest in the land.’
Facing the east, the glorious saint
Pure from all spot of earthly taint,
To Ráma, with delighted mind,
That noble host of spells consigned.
He taught the arms, whose lore is won
Hardly by Gods, to Raghu’s son.
He muttered low the spell whose call
Summons those arms and rules them all
And, each in visible form and frame,
Before the monarch’s son they came.
They stood and spoke in reverent guise
To Ráma with exulting cries:
‘O noblest child of Raghu, see,
Thy ministers and thralls are we.’
With joyful heart and eager hand
Ráma received the wondrous band,
And thus with words of welcome cried:
‘Aye present to my will abide.’
Then hasted to the saint to pay
Due reverence, and pursued his way.
Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast,
Of those mysterious arms possessed,
Ráma, now passing on his way,
Thus to the saint began to say:
‘Lord of these mighty weapons, I
Can scarce be harmed by Gods on high;
Now, best of saints, I long to gain
The powers that can these arms restrain.’
Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere,
True to his vows, from evil clear,
Called forth the names of those great charms
Whose powers restrain the deadly arms,
Receive thou True and Truly famed,
And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named
[ p. 43 ]
Warder and Progress, swift of pace,
Averted-head and Drooping-face;
The Seen, and that which Secret flies;
The weapon of the thousand eyes;
Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced,
Star-gazer and the Layer-waste:
The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,
The pair that wake and slumber not:
The Fiendish, that which shakes amain,
The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain:
The Guardian, and the Close-allied,
The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side;
O Raghu’s son receive all these,
Bright ones that wear what forms they please;
Kris’ásva’s mystic sons are they,
And worthy thou their might to sway.’
With joy the pride of Raghu’s race
Received the hermit’s proffered grace,
Mysterious arms, to check and stay,
Or smite the foeman in the fray.
Then, all with heavenly forms endued,
Nigh came the wondrous multitude.
Celestial in their bright attire
Some shone like coals of burning fire;
Some were like clouds of dusky smoke;
And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:
‘Thy thralls, O Ráma, here we stand:
Command, we pray, thy faithful band’
‘Depart,’ he cried, 'where each may list,
But when I call you to assist,
Be present to my mind with speed,
And aid me in the hour of need.’
To Ráma then they lowly bent,
And round him in due reverence went.
To his command, they answered, Yea,
And as they came so went away.
When thus the arms had homeward flown,
With pleasant words and modest tone,
E’en as he walked, the prince began
To question thus the holy man:
‘What cloudlike wood is that which near
The mountain’s side I see appear?
O tell me, for I long to know;
Its pleasant aspect charms me so.
Its glades are full of deer at play,
And sweet birds sing on every spray,
Past is the hideous wild; I feel
So sweet a tremor o’er me steal,
And hail with transport fresh and new
A land that is so fair to view.
Then tell me all, thou holy Sage,
And whose this pleasant hermitage
In which those wicked ones delight
To mar and kill each holy rite.
And with foul heart and evil deed
Thy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.
To whom, O Sage, belongs this land
In which thine altars ready stand!
‘Tis mine to guard them, and to slay
The giants who the rites would stay.
All this, O best of saints, I burn
From thine own lips, my lord, to learn.’
33:2b Great joy, according to the Hindu belief, has this effect, not causing each particular hair to stand on end, but gently raising all the down upon the body. ↩︎
34:1 The Rákshasas, giants, or fiends who are represented as disturbing the sacrifice, signify here, as often elsewhere, merely the savage tribes which placed themselves in hostile opposition to Bráhmanical institutions. ↩︎
35:1 Consisting of horse, foot, chariots, and elephants. ↩︎
35:2 ‘The Gandharvas, or heavenly bards, had originally a warlike character but were afterwards reduced to the office of celestial musicians cheering the banquets of the Gods. Dr. Kuhn has shown their identity with the Centaurs in name, origin and attributes.’ GORRESIO. ↩︎
36:1b Youths of the Kshatriya class used to leave unshorn the side locks of their hair. These were called Káka-paksha, or raven’s wings. ↩︎
36:2b The Rákshas or giant Rávan, king ot Lanká. ↩︎
36:3b The meaning of As’vins (from as’va a horse, Persian asp, Greek ἵιππος, Latin equus, Welsh *eck, is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The As’vins have much in common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and their mythical genealogy seems to indicate that their origin was astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the morning star and evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and the nymph As’viní, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods. GORRESIO. ↩︎
36:4b The word Kumára, (a young prince, h Childe, is also a proper name of Skanda or Kártikeya God of War, the son of S’iva and Umá. The babe was matured in the fire. See Appendix, Kártikeii Generatio. ↩︎
37:1 ‘At the rising of the sun as well as at noon certain observances, invocations, and prayers were prescribed which might under no circumstances be omitted. One of these observances was the recitation of the Sávitri, a Vedic hymn to the Sun of wonderful beauty.’ GORBESIO. ↩︎
37:1b Tripathaga, Three-path-go, flowing in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. See Canto XLV ↩︎
37:2b Tennyson’s ‘ Indian Cama,’ the God of Love, known also by many other names. ↩︎
37:3b Uma, or Parvati, was daughter of Himálaya, Monarch of mountains, and wife of S’iva. See Kálidása’s Kumára Sambhava, or Birth of the War-God. ↩︎
37:4b Sthánu, The Unmoving one, a name of S’iva. ↩︎
37:5b The practice of austerities, voluntary tortures, and mortifications was anciently universal in India, and was held by the Indians to be of immense efficacy. Hence they mortified themselves to expiate sins, to acquire merits, and to obtain superhuman gifts and powers; the Gods themselves sometimes exercised themselves in such austerities, either to raise themselves to greater power and grandeur, or to counteract the austerities of man which threatened to prevail over them and to deprive them of heaven… Such austerities were called in India tapas (burning ardour, fervent devotion) and he who practised them tapasvin.'GORRESIO. ↩︎
38:1b ‘A celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty region between the northern highlands of the Himalayas and mount Kailása, the region of the sacred lakes. The poem, following the popular Indian belief, makes the river Sarayú (now Sarjú) flow from the Mánasa lake; the sources of the river are a little to the south about a day’s journey from the lake. See Lassen, Indische Alterthumsbunde, page 34.’ GORBESIO. Manas means mind; mánasa, mental, mind-born. ↩︎
38:2b Sarovar means best of lakes. This is another of the poet’s fanciful etymologies. ↩︎
38:3b The confluence of two or more rivers is often a venerated and holy place. The most famous is Prayág or Allahabad, where the Sarasvatí by an underground course is believed to join the Jumna and the Ganges. ↩︎
39:1 The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea Tormentosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia Suaveolens, Aegle Marmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted the Kutaja (Echites) and the Tinduka (Diospyrus). ↩︎
39:2 Here we meet with a fresh myth to account for the name of these regions. Malaja is probably a non-Aryan word signifying a hilly country: taken as a Sanskrit compound it means sprung from defilement. The word Karúsha appears to have a somewhat similar meaning. ↩︎
40:1 ‘This is one of those indefinable mythic personages who are found in the ancient traditions of many nations, and in whom cosmogonical or astronomical notions are generally figured. Thus it is related of Agastya that the Vindhyan mountains prostrated themselves before him; and yet the same Agastya is believed to be regent of the star Canopus,’ —GORRESIO.
He will appear as the friend and helper of Ráma farther on in the poem. ↩︎
41:2 ‘The whole of this Canto together with the following one, regards the belief, formerly prevalent in India, that by virtue of certain spells, to be learnt and muttered, secret knowledge and superhuman powers might be acquired. To this the poet has already alluded in Canto xxiii. These incorporeal weapons are partly represented according to the fashion of those ascribed to the Gods and the different orders of demi-gods, partly are the mere creations of fancy; and it would not be easy to say what idea the poet had of them in his own mind, or what powers he meant to assign to each.’ SCHLEGEL. ↩︎
42:1 In Sanskrit Sankára, a word which has various significations but the primary meaning of which is the act of seizing. A magical power seems to be implied of employing the weapons when and where required. The remarks I have made on the preceding Canto apply with still greater force to this. The MSS. greatly vary in the enumeration of these Sankáras, and it is not surprising that copyists have incorrectly written the names which they did not well understand. The commentators throw no light upon the subject.’ SCHLEGEL. I have taken the liberty of omitting four of these which Schlegel translates ‘Sclerom* balum, Euomphalium, Cantiventrem, and Chrysomphalum.’ ↩︎