[ p. 89 ]
So Bharat to his grandsire went
Obedient to the message sent,
And for his fond companion chose
S’atrughna slayer of his foes. [1]
There Bharat for a time remained
With love and honour entertained,
King As’vapati’s constant care,
Belovèd as a son and heir.
Yet ever, as they lived at ease,
While all around combined to please
The agèd sire they left behind
Was present to each hero’s mind.
Nor could the king’s fond memory stray
From his brave children far away,
Dear Bharat and S’atrughna dear,
Each Varun’s match or Indra’s peer.
To all the princes, young and brave,
His soul with fond affection clave;
Around his loving heart they clung
Like arms from his own body sprung. [2]
But best and noblest of the four,
Good as the God whom all adore,
Lord of all virtues, undefiled,
His darling was his eldest child.
For he was beautiful and strong,
From envy free, the foe of wrong,
With all his father’s virtues blest,
And peerless in the world confessed.
With placid soul he softly spoke:
No harsh reply could taunts provoke.
He ever loved the good and sage
Revered for virtue and for age,
And when his martial tasks were o’er
Sate listening to their peaceful lore.
Wise, modest, pure, he honoured eld,
His lips from lying tales withheld;
Due reference to the Bráhnmans gave,
And ruled each passion like a slave.
Most tender, prompt at duty’s call,
Loved by all men he loved them all.
Proud of the duties of his race,
With spirit meet for Warrior’s place,
He strove to win by glorious deed,
Throned with the Gods, a priceless meed.
With him in speech and quick reply
Vrihaspati might hardly vie,
But never would his accents flow
For evil or for empty show.
In art and science duly trained,
His student vow he well maintained;
He learnt the lore for princes fit,
The Vedas and their Holy Writ,
And with his well-drawn bow at last
His mighty father’s fame surpassed.
Of birth exalted, truthful, just,
With vigorous hand, with noble trust,
Well taught by aged twice-born men
Who gain and right could clearly ken,
Full well the claims and bounds he knew
Of duty, gain, and pleasure too:
Of memory keen, of ready tact,
In civil business prompt to act.
Reserved, his features ne’er disclosed
What counsel in his heart reposed.
All idle rage and mirth controlled,
He knew the times to give and hold,
Firm in his faith, of steadfast will,
He sought no wrong, he spoke no ill:
Not rashly swift, not idly slow,
His faults and others’ keen to know.
Each merit, by his subtle sense,
He matched with proper recompense.
He knew the means that wealth provide,
And with keen eye expense could guide.
Wild elephants could he reclaim,
And mettled steeds could mount and tame.
No arm like his the bow could wield,
Or drive the chariot to the field.
Skilled to attack, to deal the blow,
Or lead a host against the foe:
Yea, e’en infuriate Gods would fear
To meet his arm in full career.
As the great sun in noontide blaze
Is glorious with his world of rays.
So Ráma with these virtues shone
Which all men loved to gaze upon.
The agèd monarch fain would rest,
And said within his weary breast,
‘Oh that I might, while living yet,
My Ráma o’er the kingdom set.
And see, before my course be run,
The hallowed drops anoint my son;
See all this spacious land obey,
From side to side, my first-born’s sway,
And then, my life and joy complete,
Obtain in heaven a blissful seat!’
In him the monarch saw combined
The fairest form, the noblest mind,
And counselled how his son might share,
The throne with him as Regent Heir.
For fearful signs in earth and sky,
And weakness warned him death was nigh:
But Ráma to the world endeared
By every grace his bosom cheered,
[ p. 90 ]
The moon of every eye, whose ray
Drove all his grief and fear away.
So duty urged that hour to seize,
Himself, his realm, to bless and please.
From town and country, far and near,
He summoned people, prince, and peer.
To each he gave a meet abode,
And honoured all and gifts bestowed.
Then, splendid in his king’s attire,
He viewed them, as the general Sire,
In glory of a God arrayed,
Looks on the creatures he has made.
But Kekaya’s king he called not then
For haste, nor Janak, lord of men;
For after to each royal friend
The joyful tidings he would send.
Mid crowds from distant countries met
The king upon his throne was set;
Then honoured by the people, all
The rulers thronged into the hall.
On thrones assigned, each king in place
Looked silent on the monarch’s face.
Then girt by lords of high renown
And throngs from hamlet and from town
He showed in regal pride,
As, honoured by the radiant band
Of blessed Gods that round him stand,
Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed.
Then to the full assembly bowed
The monarch, and addressed the crowd
With gracious speech, in accents loud
As heavenly drum or thunder-cloud:
‘Needs not to you who know declare
How ever with paternal care
My fathers of Ikshváku’s line
Have ruled the realm which now is mine.
I too have taught my feet to tread
The pathway of the mighty dead,
And with fond care that never slept
Have, as I could, my people kept.
So toiling still, and ne’er remiss
For all my people’s weal and bliss,
Beneath the white umbrella’s [3] shade.
Old age is come and strength decayed.
Thousands of years have o’er me flown,
And generations round me grown
And passed away. I crave at length
Repose and ease for broken strength.
Feeble and worn I scarce can bear
The ruler’s toil, the judge’s care,
With royal dignity, a weight
That tries the young and temperate.
I long to rest, my labour done,
And in my place to set my son,
If to the twice-born gathered here
My counsel wise and good appear.
For greater gifts than mine adorn
Ráma my son, my eldest-born.
Like Indra brave, before him fall
The foeman’s cities, tower and wall.
Him prince of men for power and might,
The best maintainer of the right,
Fair as the moon when nothing bars
His glory close to Pushya’s stars,
Him with to-morrow’s light I fain
Would throne the consort of my reign,
A worthy lord for you, I ween,
Marked as her own by Fortune’s Queen.
The triple world itself would be
Well ruled by such a king as he.
To such high bliss and happy fate
Will I the country dedicate,
And my sad heart will cease to grieve
If he the precious charge receive.
Thus is my careful plan matured,
Thus for myself is rest secured;
Lieges, approve the words I say,
Or point ye out some wiser way.
Devise your prudent plan. My mind
Is fondly to this thought inclined,
But men by keen debating move
Some middle course which all approve.’
The monarch ceased. In answer came
The joyous princes’ glad acclaim.
So peacocks in the rain rejoice
And hail the cloud with lifted voice.
Murmurs of joy from thousands round
Shook the high palace with the sound.
Then when the gathered throng had learned
His will who right and gain discerned,
Peasant and townsman, priest and chief,
All met in consultation brief,
And soon agreed with one accord
Gave answer to their sovereign lord:
‘King of the land, we know thee old:
Thousands of years have o’er thee rolled,
Ráma thy son, we pray, anoint.
And at thy side his place appoint
Our gallant prince, so brave and strong,
Riding in royal state along,
Our eyes with joyful pride will see
Screened by the shade that shelters thee.’
Then spake the king again, as though
Their hearts’ true wish he sought to know:
‘These prayers for Ráma’s rule suggest
One question to my doubting breast.
This thing, I pray, with truth explain:
Why would ye, while I justly reign,
That he, mine eldest son, should bear
His part with me as ruling heir?’
Then all the people made reply,
Peasant and townsman, low and high:
‘ Each noblest gift of form and mind,
[ p. 91 ]
O Monarch, in thy son we find.
Do thou the godlike virtues hear
Which Ráma to our hearts endear.
So richly blest with graces, none
In all the earth excels thy son:
Nay, who to match with him may claim
In truth, in justice, and in fame?
True to his promise, gentle, kind,
Unenvious, of grateful mind,
Versed in the law and firm of soul,
He keeps each sense with strict control.
With duteous care he loves to sit
By Bráhmans skilled in Holy Writ.
Hence brightest glory, ne’er to end,
And matchless fame his youth attend.
Skilled in the use of spear and shield.
And arms which heavenly warriors wield,
Supreme in war, unconquered yet
Bv man, fiend, God in battle met,
Whene’er in pomp of war he goes
‘Gainst town or city of the foes,
He ever comes with Lakshman back
Victorious from the fierce attack.
Returning homeward from afar
Borne on his elephant or car,
He ever to the townsmen bends
And greets them as beloved friends,
Asks how each son, each servant thrives,
How fare our pupils, offerings, wives;
And like a father bids us tell,
Each for himself, that all is well.
If pain or grief the city tries
His heart is swift to sympathize.
When festive scenes our thoughts employ
He like a father shares the joy.
High is the fate, O King, that gave
Thy Ráma born to bless and save,
With filial virtues fair and mild
Like Kas’yap old Maríchi’s child.
Hence to the kingdom’s distant ends
One general prayer for him ascends.
Each man in town and country prays
For Ráma’s strength, health, length of days.
With hearts sincere, their wish the same,
The tender girl, the aged dame,
Subject and stranger, peasant, hind,
One thought impressed on every mind,
At evening and at dawning day
To all the Gods for Ráma pray.
Do thou, O King, of grace comply,
And hear the people’s longing cry,
And let us on the throne by thee
The lotus-tinted Ráma see.
O thou who givest boons, attend;
A gracious ear, O Monarch, lend
And for our weal install,
Consenting to our earnest prayer,
Thy godlike Ráma Regent Heir,
Who seeks the good of all.’
* * * *
The monarch with the prayer complied
Of suppliant hands, on every side
Uplifted like a lotus-bed:
And then these gracious words he said:
‘Great joy and mighty fame are mine
Because your loving hearts incline,
In full assembly clearly shown
To place my Ráma on the throne.’
Then to Vas’ishtha, standing near,
And Vámadeva loud and clear
The monarch spoke that all might hear:
‘'Tis pure and lovely Chaitra now
When flowers are sweet on every bough;
All needful things with haste prepare
That Ráma be appointed heir.’
Then burst the people’s rapture out
In loud acclaim and joyful shout;
And when the tumult slowly ceased
The king addressed the holy priest:
‘Give order, Saint, with watchful heed
For what the coming rite will need.
This day let all things ready wait
Mine eldest son to consecrate.’
Best of all men of second birth
Vas’ishtha heard the lord of earth,
And gave commandment to the bands
Of servitors with lifted hands
Who waited on their master’s eye:
‘Now by to-morrow’s dawn supply
Rich gold and herbs and gems of price
And offerings for the sacrifice,
Wreaths of white flowers and roasted rice.
And oil and honey, separate;
New garments and a car of state,
An elephant with lucky signs,
A fourfold host in ordered lines,
The white umbrella, and a pair
Of chowries, [4] and a banner fair;
A hundred vases, row on row,
To shine like fire in splendid glow,
A tiger’s mighty skin, a bull
With gilded horns most beautiful.
All these, at dawn of coming day,
Around the royal shrine array,
Where burns the fire’s undying ray.
Each palace door, each city gate
With wreaths of sandal decorate.
And with the garlands’ fragrant scent
Let clouds of incense-smoke be blent.
Let food of noble kind and taste
Be for a hundred thousand placed;
Fresh curds with streams of milk bedewed
To feed the Bráhman multitude.
[ p. 92 ]
With care be all their wants supplied.
And mid the twice-born chiefs divide
Rich largess, with the early morn,
And oil and curds and roasted corn.
Soon as the sun has shown his light
Pronounce the prayer to bless the rite,
And then be all the Bráhmans called
And in their ordered seats installed.
Let all musicians skilled to play,
And dancing-girls in bright array
Stand ready in the second ring
Within the palace of the king.
Each honoured tree, each holy shrine
With leaves and flowery wreaths entwine,
And here and there beneath the shade
Be food prepared and presents laid.
Then brightly clad, in warlike guise,
With long swords girt upon their thighs,
Let soldiers of the nobler sort
March to the monarch’s splendid court.’
Thus gave command the twice-born pair
To active servants stationed there.
Then hastened to the king and said
That all their task was duly sped,
The king to wise Sumantra spake:
‘Now quick, my lord, thy chariot take,
And hither with thy swiftest speed
My son, my noble Ráma lead.’
Sumantra, ere the word was given,
His chariot from the court had driven,
And Ráma, best of all who ride
In cars, came sitting by his side.
The lords of men had hastened forth
From east and west and south and north,
Áryan and stranger, those who dwell
In the wild wood and on the fell,
And as the Gods to Indra, they
Showed honour to the king that day.
Like Vásav, when his glorious form
Is circled by the Gods of storm,
Girt in his hall by kings he saw
His car-borne Ráma near him draw,
Like him who rules the minstrel band
Of heaven; [5] whose valour tilled the land,
Of mighty arm and stately pride
Like a wild elephant in stride,
As fair in face as that fair stone
Dear to the moon, of moonbeams grown, [6]
With noble gifts and grace that took
The hearts of all, and chained each look,
World-cheering as the Lord of Rain
When floods relieve the parching plain.
The father, as the son came nigh,
Gazed with an ever-thirstier eye.
Sumantra helped the prince alight
From the good chariot passing bright,
And as to meet his sire he went
Followed behind him reverent.
Then Ráma clomb, the king to seek
That terrace like Kailása’s peak,
And reached the presence of the king,
Sumantra closely following.
Before his father’s face he came,
Raised suppliant hands and named his name, [7]
And bowing lowly as is meet
Paid reverence to the monarch’s feet.
But soon as Das’aratha viewed
The prince in humble attitude,
He raised him by the hand in haste
And his beloved son embraced,
Then signed him to a glorious throne,
Gem-decked and golden, near his own.
Then Ráma, best of Raghu’s line,
Made the fair seat with lustre shine
As when the orient sun upsprings
And his pure beam on Meru flings.
The glory flashed on roof and wall,
And with strange sheen suffused the hall,
As when the moon’s pure rays are sent
Through autumn’s star-lit firmament.
Then swelled his breast with joy and pride
As his dear son the father eyed,
E’en as himeself more fair arrayed
In some clear mirror’s face displayed.
The aged monarch gazed awhile,
Then thus addressed him with a smile,
As Kas’yap, whom the worlds revere,
Speaks for the Lord of Gods to hear:
‘O thou of all my sons most dear,
In virtue best, thy father’s peer,
Child of my consort first in place,
Mine equal in her pride of race,
Because the people’s hearts are bound
To thee by graces in thee found,
Be thou in Pushya’s favouring hour
Made partner of my royal power.
I know that thou by nature’s bent
Both modest art and excellent,
But though thy gifts no counsel need
My love suggests the friendly rede.
Mine own dear son, be modest still,
And rule each sense with earnest will.
Keep thou the evils far away
That spring from love and anger’s sway.
Thy noble course alike pursue
In secret as in open view,
And every nerve, the love to gain
Of ministers and subjects, strain.
The happy prince who sees with pride
His thriving people satisfied;
Whose arsenals with arms are stored,
And treasury with golden hoard,—
[ p. 93 ]
His friends rejoice as joyed the Blest
When Amrit crowned their eager quest.
So well, my child, thy course maintain,
And from all ill thy soul refrain.’
The friends of Ráma, gathered nigh,
Longing their lord to gratify,
Ran to Kaus’alyá’s bower to tell
The tidings that would please her well.
She, host of dames, with many a gem,
And gold, and kine rewarded them.
Then Ráma paid the reverence due,
Mounted the chariot, and withdrew,
And to his splendid dwelling drove
While crowds to show him honour strove.
The people, when the monarch’s speech
Their willing ears had heard,
Were wild with joy as though on each
Great gifts had been conferred.
With meek and low salute each man
Turned to his home away,
And there with happy heart began
To all the Gods to pray.
The crowd dismissed, to high debate
The monarch called his peers of state,
And, counsel from their lips obtained,
Firm in his will his will explained:
‘To-morrow with auspicious ray
The moon in Pushya’s sign will stay;
Be that the time with happy fate
Mine eldest son to consecrate,
And let my Ráma, lotus-eyed,
As Regent o’er the state preside.’
He sought, within, his charioteer,
And cried ‘Again bring Ráma here.’
To Ráma’s home Sumantra hied
Again to be the prince’s guide.
His coming, told to Ráma’s ear,
Suggested anxious doubt and fear.
He bade the messenger be led
That instant in, and thus he said:
‘Tell me the cause, omitting naught.
Why thou again my house hast sought.’
The envoy answered: 'Prince, thy sire
Has sent thy presence to require.
My sender known,'tis thine to say
If thou wilt go or answer nay.’
Then Ráma, when he heard his speech,
Made haste the royal court to reach.
Soon as the monarch was aware
His dearest son was waiting there,
Eager the parley to begin
He bade them lead the prince within,
Soon as he passed the chamber door
The hero bent him to the floor,
And at a distance from his seat
Raised his joined hands his sire to greet.
The monarch raised him from the ground,
And loving arms about him wound,
Then pointed to a seat that shone
With gold for him to rest upon.
‘Aged am I,’ he said, ‘and worn;
In life’s best joys my share have borne;
Rites to the Gods, in hundreds, paid,
With gifts of corn and largess made.
I yearned for sons: my life is blest
With them and thee of sons the best.
No debt to saints or Bráhmans, no,
Nor spirits, Gods, or self I owe.
One duty now remains alone,
To set thee on thy father’s throne.
Now therefore, Ráma, hear my rede,
And mark my words with duteous heed:
This day the peoples’ general voice,
Elects thee king of love and choice,
And I, consenting to the prayer,
Will make thee, darling, Regent Heir.
Dread visions, each returning night,
With evil omens scare my sight.
Red meteors with a fearful sound
Shoot wildly downward to the ground,
While tempests lash the troubled air;
And they who read the stars declare
That, leagued against my natal sign,
Ráhu [8] the Sun, [9] and Mars combine.
When portents dire as these appear,
A monarch’s death or woe is near.
Then while my senses yet are spared,
And thought and will are unimpaired,
Be thou, my son, anointed king:
Men’s fancy is a fickle thing.
To-day the moon, in order due,
Entered the sign Punarvasu; [10]
To-morrow, as the wise foretell,
In Pushya’s favouring stars will dwell:
Then on the throne shalt thou be placed.
My soul, prophetic, counsels haste:
Thee, O my son, to-morrow I
As Regent Heir will sanctify.
So till the coming night he passed
Do thou and Sítá strictly fast:
From worldly thoughts thy soul refrain,
And couched on holy grass remain.
[ p. 94 ]
And let thy trusted lords attend
In careful watch upon their friend,
For, unexpected, check and bar
Our weightiest counsels often mar.
While Bharat too is far away
Making with royal kin his stay,
I deem the fittest time of all
Thee, chosen Regent, to install.
It may be Bharat still has stood
True to the counsels of the good,
Faithful to thee with tender trust,
With governed senses, pure and just.
But human minds, too well I know,
Will sudden changes undergo,
And by their constant deeds alone
The virtue of the good is shown.
Now, Ráma, go. My son, good night!
Fixt is to-morrow for the rite.’
Then Ráma paid the reverence due,
And quickly to his home withdrew.
He passed within, nor lingered there,
But sought his mother’s mansion, where
The dame in linen robes arrayed
Devoutly in the chapel prayed
To Fortune’s Queen,with utterance checked,
That she her Ráma would protect.
There was Sumitrá too, and there
Was Lakshman led by loving care:
And when the royal choice they knew
Sítá in haste was summoned too.
Absorbed, with half-shut eyes, the queen
Attended by the three was seen.
She knew that Pushya’s lucky hour
Would raise her son to royal power,
So fixed with bated breath each thought
On God supreme, by all men sought.
To her, as thus she knelt and prayed,
Ráma drew near, due reverence paid,
And then to swell his mother’s joy,
Thus spoke her own beloved boy;
‘O mother dear, my sire’s decree
Entrusts the people’s weal to me.
To-morrow I, for so his will.
Anointed king, the throne shall fill.
The few last hours till night shall end
Sitá with me must fasting spend,
For so my father has decreed,
And holy priests with him agreed.
What vows soever thou mayst deem
My consecration’s eve beseem,
Do thou, sweet mother, for my sake
And for beloved Sitá’s make.’
When the glad news Kaus’alyá heard,
So long desired, so long deferred,
While tears of joy her utterance broke,
In answer to her son she spoke:
‘Long be thy life, my darling: now
Thy prostrate foes before thee bow.
Live long and with thy bright success
My friends and dear Sumitrá’s bless.
Surely the stars were wondrous fair
When thee, sweet son, thy mother bare,
That thy good gifts such love inspire
And win the favour of thy sire.
With thee I travailed not in vain;
Those lotus eyes reward my pain,
And all the glory of the line
Of old Ikshváku will be thine.’
He smiled, and on his brother gazed
Who sate with reverent hands upraised,
And said: 'My brother, thou must be
Joint-ruler of this land with me.
My second self thou, Lakshman, art,
And in my fortune bearest part.
Be thine, Sumitrá’s son, to know
The joys from regal power that flow.
My life itself, the monarch’s seat,
For thy dear sake to me are sweet. 1
Thus Ráma to his brother said,
To both his mothers’ bowed his head,
And then with Sítá by his side
To his own house the hero hied.
Then Saint Vas’ishtha to the king
Came ready at his summoning.
‘Now go,’ exclaimed the monarch, 'thou
Enriched by fervent rite and vow,
For Ráma and his wife ordain
The fast, that joy may bless his reign.’
The best of those who Scripture know
Said to the king, ‘My lord, I go.’
To Ráma’s house Vas’ishtha hied,
The hero’s fast by rule to guide,
And skilled in sacred texts to tell
Each step to him instructed well.
Straight to Prince Ráma’s high abode,
That like a cloud pale-tinted showed,
Borne in his priestly car he rode.
Two courts he passed, and in the third
He stayed his car. Then Ráma heard
The holy sage was come, and flew
To honour him with honour due.
He hastened to the car and lent
His hand to aid the priest’s descent.
Then spoke Vas’ishtha words like these,
Pleased with his reverent courtesies,
With pleasant things his heart to cheer
Who best deserved glad news to hear:
‘Prince, thou hast won thy father’s grace,
And thine will be the Regent’s place:
Now with thy Sítá, as is right,
In strictest fasting spend the night,
[ p. 95 ]
For when the morrow’s dawn is fair
The king will consecrate his heir:
So Nahush, [11] as the wise relate,
Yayáti joyed to consecrate.’
Thus having said, Vas’ishtha next
Ordained the fast by rule and text,
For Ráma faithful to his vows
And the Videhan dame his spouse.
Then from the prince’s house he hied
With courteous honours gratified.
Round Ráma gathered every friend
In pleasant talk a while to spend.
He bade good night to all at last,
And to his inner chamber passed.
Then Ráma’s house shone bright and gay
With men and maids in glad array,
As in the morning some fair lake
When all her lotuses awake,
And every bird that loves the flood
Flits joyous round each opening bud.
Forth from the house Vas’ishtha drove,
That with the king’s in splendour strove,
And all the royal street he viewed
Filled with a mighty multitude
The eager concourse blocked each square,
Each road and lane and thoroughfare,
And joyous shouts on every side
Rose like the roar of Ocean’s tide,
As streams of men together came
With loud huzza and glad acclaim.
The ways were watered, swept and clean,
And decked with flowers and garlands green
And all Ayodhyá shone arrayed
With banners on the roofs that played.
Men, women, boys with eager eyes,
Expecting when the sun should rise,
Stood longing for the herald ray
Of Ráma’s consecration day,
To see, a source of joy to all,
The people-*honoured festival.
The priest advancing slowly through
The mighty crowd he cleft in two,
Near to the monarch’s palace drew.
He sought the terrace, by the stair,
Like a white cloud peak high in air,
The reverend king of men to meet
Who sate upon his splendid seat:
Thus will Vrihaspati arise
To meet the monarch of the skies.
But when the king his coming knew,
He left his throne and near him drew
Questioned by him Vas’ishtha said
That all his task was duly sped.
Then all who sate there, honouring
Vas’ishtha, rose as rose the king,
Vas’ishtha bade his lord adieu,
And all the peers, dismissed, withdrew.
Then as a royal lion seeks
His cave beneath the rocky peaks,
So to the chambers where abode
His consorts Das’aratha strode.
Full-thronged were those delightful bowers
With women richly dressed,
And splendid as the radiant towers
Where Indra loves to rest.
Then brighter flashed a thousand eyes
With the light his presence lent,
As, when the moon begins to rise
The star thronged firmament.
Then Ráma bathed in order due,
His mind from worldly thoughts withdrew,
And with big large-eyed wife besought
Náráyan, as a votary ought.
Upon his head the brimming cup
Of holy oil he lifted up,
Then placed within the kindled fire
The offering to that heavenly Sire,
And as he sipped the remnant prayed
To Him for blessing and for aid.
Then with still lips and tranquil mind
With his Videhan he reclined,
In Vishnu’s chapel, on a bed
Where holy grass was duly spread,
While still the prince’s every thought
Tbe God supreme, Náráyan, sought.
One watch remained the night to close
When Ráma from his couch arose,
And bade the men and maids adorn
His palace for the solemn morn.
He heard the bards and heralds raise
Auspicious strains of joy and praise;
And breathed devout, with voice restrained,
The hymn for morning rites ordained;
Then, with his head in reverence bowed,
Praised Madhu’s conquering foe aloud.
And, in pure linen robes arrayed,
The priests to raise their voices prayed.
Obedient to the summons they
Proclaimed to all the festal day.
The Bráhmans’ voices, deep and sweet,
Resounded through the crowded street,
And echoed through Ayodhyá went
By many a loud-toned instrument.
Then all the people joyed to hear
That Ráma with his consort dear
Had fasted till the morning light
In preparation for the rite.
Swiftly the joyful tidings through
Ayodhyá’s crowded city flew,
And soon as dawn appeared, each man
To decorate the town began.
[ p. 96 ]
In all the temples bright and fair
As white clouds towering in the air,
In streets, and where the cross-ways met,
Where holy fig-trees had been set,
In open square, in sacred shade,
Where merchants’ shops their wealth displayed,
On all the mansions of the great,
And householders of wealth and state,
Where’er the people loved to meet,
Where’er a tree adorned the street,
Gay banners floated to the wind,
And ribands round the staves were twined.
Then clear the singers’ voices rang,
As, charming mind and ear, they sang.
Here players shone in bright attire,
There dancing women swelled the quire.
Each with his friend had much to say
Of Ráma’s consecration-day:
Yea, even children, as they played
At cottage doors beneath the shade.
The royal street with flowers was strown
Which loving hands in heaps had thrown,
And here and there rich incense lent
Its fragrance to the garland’s scent;
And all was fresh and fair and bright
In honour of the coming rite.
With careful foresight to illume
With borrowed blaze the midnight gloom,
The crowds erected here and there
Trees in each street gay lamps to bear.
The city thus from side to side
In festal guise was beautified.
The people of the town who longed
To view the rite together thronged,
And filling every court and square
Praised the good king in converse there:
‘Our high-souled king! He throws a grace
On old Ikshváku’s royal race.
He feels his years’ increasing weight,
And makes his son associate.
Great joy to us the choice will bring
Of Ráma for our lord and king.
The good and bad to him are known,
And long will he protect his own.
No pride his prudent breast may swell,
Most just, he loves his brothers well,
And to us all that love extends,
Cherished as brothers and as friends.
Long may our lord in life remain,
Good Das’aratha, free from stain,
By whose most gracious favour we
Ráma anointed king shall see.’
Such were the words the townsmen spoke
Heard by the gathering countryfolk,
Who from the south, north, east, and west,
Stirred by the joyful tidings, pressed.
For by their eager longing led
To Ráma’s consecration sped
The villagers from every side,
And filled Ayodhyá’s city wide.
This way and that way strayed the crowd,
While rose a murmur long and loud,
As when the full moon floods the skies
And Ocean’s waves with thunder rise.
That town, like Indra’s city fair,
While peasants thronged her ways.
Tumultuous roared like Ocean, where
Each flood-born monster plays.
It chanced a slave-born handmaid, bred
With Queen Kaikeyí, fancy-fed,
Mounted the stair and stood upon
The terrace like the moon that shone.
Thence Manthará at ease surveyed
Ayodhyá to her eyes displayed,
Where water cooled the royal street,
Where heaps of flowers were fresh and sweet,
And costly flags and pennons hung
On roof and tower their shadow flung;
With covered ways prepared in haste,
And many an awning newly placed;
With sandal-scented streams bedewed,
Thronged by a new bathed multitude:
Whose streets were full of Bráhman bands
With wreaths and sweetmeats in their hands.
Loud instruments their music raised,
And through the town, where’er she gazed,
The doors of temples glittered white,
And the maid marvelled at the sight.
Of Ráma’s nurse who, standing by,
Gazed with a joy-expanded eye,
In robes of purest white attired,
The wondering damsel thus inquired:
‘Does Ráma’s mother give away
Rich largess to the crowds to-day,
On some dear object fondly bent,
Or blest with measureless content?
What mean these signs of rare delight
On every side that meet my sight?
Say, will the king with joy elate
Some happy triumph celebrate?’
The nurse, with transport uncontrolled,
Her glad tale to the hump-back told:
‘Our lord the king to-morrow morn
Will consecrate his eldest-born,
And raise, in Pushya’s favouring hour,
Prince Ráma to the royal power.’
As thus the nurse her tidings spoke,
Rage in the hump-back’s breast awoke.
Down from the terrace, like the head
Of high Kailása’s hill, she sped.
Sin in her thoughts, her soul aflame,
Where Queen Kaikeyí slept, she came:
[ p. 97 ]
‘Why sleepest thou?’ she cried, 'arise,
Peril is near, unclose thine eyes.
Ah, heedless Queen, too blind to know
Wnat floods of sin above thee flow!
Thy boasts of love and grace are o’er:
Thine is the show and nothing more.
His favour is an empty cheat,
A torrent dried by summer’s heat.’
Thus by the artful maid addressed
In cruel words from raging breast,
The queen, sore troubled, spoke in turn;
‘What evil news have I to learn?
That mournful eye, that altered cheek
Of sudden woe or danger speak.’
Such were the words Kaikeyí said:
Then Manthará, her eyeballs red
With fury, skilled with treacherous art
To grieve yet more her lady’s heart,
From Ráma, in her wicked hate,
Kaikeyí’s love to alienate,
Upon her evil purpose bent
Began again most eloquent:
‘Peril awaits thee swift and sure,
And utter woe defying cure;
King Das’aratha will create
Prince Ráma Heir Associate.
Plunged in the depths of wild despair,
My soul a prey to pain and care,
As though the flames consumed me, zeal
Has brought me for my lady’s weal,
Thy grief, my Queen, is grief to me:
Thy gain my greatest gain would be.
Proud daughter of a princely line,
The rights of consort queen are thine.
How art thou, born of royal race,
Blind to the crimes that kings debase!
Thy lord is gracious, to deceive,
And flatters, but thy soul to grieve,
While thy pure heart that thinks no sin
Knows not the snares that hem thee in.
Thy husband’s lips on thee bestow
Soft soothing word, an empty show:
The wealth, the substance, and the power
This day will be Kaus’alyá’s dower.
With crafty soul thy child he sends
To dwell among thy distant friends,
And, every rival far from sight,
To Ráma gives the power and might.
Ah me! for thou, unhappy dame,
Deluded by a husband’s name,
With more than mother’s love hast pressed
A serpent to thy heedless breast,
And cherished him who works thee woe,
No husband but a deadly foe.
For like a snake, unconscious Queen,
Or enemy who stabs unseen,
King Das’aratha all untrue
Has dealt with thee and Bharat too.
Ah, simple lady, long beguiled
By his soft words who falsely smiled!
Poor victim of the guileless breast,
A happier fate thou meritest.
For thee and thine destruction waits
When he Prince Ráma consecrates.
Up, lady, while there yet is time;
Preserve thyself, prevent the crime.
Up, from thy careless ease, and free
Thyself, O Queen, thy son, and me!’
Delighted at the words she said,
Kaikeyí lifted from the bed,
Like autumn’s moon, her radiant head,
And joyous at the tidings gave
A jewel to the hump-back slave;
And as she gave the precious toy
She cried in her exceeding joy:
‘Take this, dear maiden, for thy news
Most grateful to mine ear, and choose
What grace beside most fitly may
The welcome messenger repay.
I joy that Ráma gains the throne:
Kaus’alyá’s son is as mine own.’
The damsel’s breast with fury burned:
She answered, as the gift she spurned:
‘What time, O simple Queen, is this
For idle dreams of fancied bliss?
Hast thou not sense thy state to know,
Engulfed in seas of whelming woe;
Sick as I am with grief and pain
My lips can scarce a laugh restrain
To see thee hail with ill-timed joy
A peril mighty to destroy.
I mourn for one so fondly blind:
What woman of a prudent mind
Would welcome, e’en as thou hast done,
The lordship of a rival’s son,
Rejoiced to find her secret foe
Empowered, like death, to launch the blow;
I see that Ráma still must fear
Thy Bharat, to his throne too near.
Hence is my heart disquieted,
For those who fear are those we dread.
Lakshman, the mighty bow who draws,
With all his soul serves Ráma’s cause;
And chains as strong to Bharat bind
S’atrughna, with his heart and mind,
Now next to Ráma, lady fair,
Thy Bharat is the lawful heir:
And far remote, I ween, the chance
That might the younger two advance.
Yes, Queen,'tis Ráma that I dread,
Wise, prompt, in warlike science bred;
And oh, I tremble when I think
Of thy dear child on ruin’s brink.
[ p. 98 ]
Blest witn a lofty fate is she,
Kaus’alyá; for her son will be
Placed, when the moon and Pushya meet,
By Bráhmans on the royal seat,
Thou as a slave in suppliant guise
Must wait upon Kaus’alyá’s eyes,
With all her wealth and bliss secured
And glorious from her foes assured.
Her slave with us who serve thee, thou
Wilt see thy son to Ráma bow,
And Sítá’s friends exult o’er all,
While Bharat’s wife shares Bharat’s fall.’
As thus the maid in wrath complained,
Kaikeyí saw her heart was pained,
And answered eager in defence
Of Ramá’s worth and excellence:
‘Nay, Ráma, born the monarch’s heir,
By holy fathers trained with care,
Virtuous, grateful, pure, and true,
Claims royal sway as rightly due.
He, like a sire, will long defend
Each brother, minister, and friend.
Then why, O hump-back, art thou pained
To hear that he the throne has gained?
Be sure when Ráma’s empire ends,
The kingdom to my son descends,
Who, when a hundred years are flown,
Shall sit upon his fathers’ throne.
Why is thine heart thus sad to see
The joy that is and long shall be,
This fortune by possession sure
And hopes which we may count secure?
Dear as the darling son I bore
Is Ráma, yea, or even more.
Most duteous to Kaus’alyá, he
Is yet more dutiful to me.
What though he rule, we need not fear:
His brethren to his soul are dear.
And if the throne Prince Ráma fill
Bharat will share the empire still.’
She ceased. The troubled damsel sighed
Sighs long and hot, and thus replied:
‘What madness has possessed thy mind,
To warnings deaf, to dangers blind?
Canst thou not see the floods of woe
That threaten o’er thine head to flow:
First Ráma will the throne acquire,
Then Ráma’s son succeed his sire,
While Bharat will neglected pine
Excluded from the royal line.
Not all his sons, O lady fair,
The kingdom of a monarch share:
All ruling when a sovereign dies
Wild tumult in the state would rise.
The eldest, be he good or ill,
Is ruler by the father’s will.
Know, tender mother, that thy son
Without a friend and all undone.
Far from the joyous ease of home
An alien from his race will roam.
I sped to thee for whom I feel,
But thy fond heart mistakes my zeal,
Thy hand a present would bestow
Because thy rival triumphs so.
When Ráma once begins his sway
Without a foe his will to stay,
Thy darling Bharat he will drive
To distant lands if left alive.
By thee the child was sent away
Beneath his grandsire’s roof to stay.
Even in stocks and stones perforce
Will friendship spring from intercourse.
The young S’atrughna too would go
With Bharat, for he loved him so.
As Lakshman still to Ráma cleaves,
He his dear Bharat never leaves.
There is an ancient tale they tell:
A tree the foresters would fell
Was saved by reeds that round it stood,
For love that sprang of neighbourhood.
So Lakshman Ráma will defend,
And each on each for aid depend.
Such fame on earth their friendship wins
As that which binds the Heavenly Twins.
And Ráma ne’er will purpose wrong
To Lakshman, for their love is strong.
But Bharat, Oh, of this be sure,
Must evil at his hands endure.
Come, Ráma from his home expel
An exile in the woods to dwell.
The plan, O Queen, which I advise
Secures thy weal if thou be wise,
So we and all thy kith and kin
Advantage from thy gain shall win.
Shall Bharat, meet for happier fate,
Born to endure his rival’s hate,
With all his fortune ruined cower
And dread his brother’s mightier power!
Up, Queen, to save thy son, arise;
Prostrate at Ráma’s feet he lies.
So the proud elephant who leads
His trooping consorts through the reeds
Falls in the forest shade beneath
The lion’s spring and murderous teeth.
Scorned by thee in thy bliss and pride
Kaus’alyá was of old defied,
And will she now forbear to show
The vengeful rancour of a foe?
O Queen, thy darling is undone
When Ráma’s hand has once begun
Ayodhyá’s realm to sway,
Come, win the kingdom for thy child
And drive the alien to the wild
In banishment to-day.’
As fury lit Kaikeyí’s eyes
She spoke with long and burning sighs:
[ p. 99 ]
‘This day my son enthroned shall see,
And Ráma to the woods shall flee.
But tell me, damsel, if thou can,
A certain way, a skilful plan
That Bharat may the empire gain,
And Ráma’s hopes be nursed in vain.’
The lady ceased. The wicked maid
The mandate of her queen obeyed,
And darkly plotting Ráma’s fall
Responded to Kaikeyí’s call.
‘I will declare, do thou attend,
How Bharat may his throne ascend.
Dost thou forget what things befell?
Or dost thou feign, remembering well?
Or wouldst thou hear my tongue repeat
A story for thy need so meet?
Gay lady, if thy will be so,
Now hear the tale of long ago,
And when my tongue has done its part
Ponder the story in thine heart.
When Gods and demons fought of old,
Thy lord, with royal saints enrolled,
Sued to the war with thee to bring
His might to aid the Immortals’ King.
Far to the southern land he sped
Where Dandak’s mighty wilds are spread,
To Vaijayanta’s city swayed
By S’ambara, whose flag displayd
The hugest monster of the sea.
Lord of a hundred wiles was be;
With might which Gods could never blame
Against the King of Heaven he came.
Then raged the battle wild and dread,
And mortal warriors fought and bled;
The fiends by night with strength renewed
Charged, slew the sleeping multitude.
Thy lord, King Das’aratha, long
Stood fighting with the demon throng,
But long of arm, unmatched in strength,
Fell wounded by their darts at length.
Thy husband, senseless, by thine aid
Was from the battle field conveyed.
And wounded nigh to death thy lord
Was by thy care to health restored.
Well pleased the grateful monarch sware
To grant thy first and second prayer.
Thou for no favour then wouldst sue,
The gifts reserved for season due;
And he, thy high-souled lord, agreed
To give the boons when thou shouldst need.
Myself I knew not what befell,
But oft the tale have heard thee tell,
And close to thee in friendship knit
Deep in my heart have treasured it.
Remind thy husband of his oath,
Recall the boons and claim them both,
That Bharat on the throne be placed
With rites of consecration graced,
And Ráma to the woods be sent
For twice seven years of banishment.
Go, Queen, the mourner’s chamber [12] seek,
With angry eye and burning cheek;
And with disordered robes and hair
On the cold earth lie prostrate there.
When the king comes still mournful lie,
Speak not a word nor meet his eye,
But let thy tears in torrent flow,
And lie enamoured of thy woe.
Well do I know thou long hast been,
And ever art, his darling queen.
For thy dear sake, O well-loved dame,
The mighty king would brave the flame,
But ne’er would anger thee, or brook
To meet his favourite’s wrathful look.
Thy loving lord would even die
Thy fancy, Queen, to gratify,
And never could he arm his breast
To answer nay to thy request.
Listen and learn, O dull of sense,
Thine all-resistless influence.
Gems he will offer, pearls and gold:
Refuse his gifts, be stern and cold.
Those proffered boons at length recall,
And claim them till he grants thee all.
And O my lady, high in bliss,
With heedful thought forget not this.
When from the ground his queen he lifts
And grants again the promised gifts,
Bind him with oaths he cannot break
And thy demands unflnching, make.
That Ráma travel to the wild
Five years and nine from home exiled,
And Bharat, best of all who reign.
The empire of the land obtain.
For when this term of years has fled
Over the banished Ráma’s head,
Thy royal son to vigour grown
And rooted firm will stand alone.
The king, I know, is well inclined,
And this the hour to move his mind.
Be bold: the threatened rite prevent,
And force the king from his intent.’
She ceased. So counselled to her bane
Disguised beneath a show of gain,
Kaikeyí in her joy and pride
To Manthará again replied:
‘Thy sense I envy, prudent maid;
With sagest lore thy lids persuade.
No hump-back maid in all the earth,
For wise resolve, can match thy worth.
Thou art alone with constant zeal
Devoted to thy lady’s weal.
Dear girl, without thy faithful aid
I had not marked the plot he laid.
[ p. 100 ]
Full of all guile and sin and spite
Misshapen hump-backs shock the sight:
But thou art fair and formed to please,
Bent like a lily by the breeze.
I look thee o’er with watchful eye,
And in thy frame no fault can spy;
The chest so deep, the waist so trim,
So round the lines of breast and limb. [13]
Thy cheeks with moonlike beauty shine,
And the warm wealth of youth is thine.
Thy legs, my girl, are long and neat,
And somewhat long thy dainty feet,
While stepping out before my face
Thou seemest like a crane to pace.
The thousand wiles are in thy breast
Which Sambara the fiend possessed,
And countless others all thine own,
O damsel sage, to thee are known.
Thy very hump becomes thee too,
O thou whose face is fair to view,
For there reside in endless store
Plots, wissard wiles, and warrior lore.
A golden chain I’ll round it fling
When Ráma’s flight makes Bharat king:
Yea, polished links of finest gold,
When once the wished for prize I hold
With naught to fear and none to hate,
Thy hump, dear maid, shall decorate.
A golden frontlet wrought with care,
And precious jewels shalt thou wear:
Two lovely robes around thee fold,
And walk a Goddess to behold,
Bidding the moon himself compare
His beauty with a face so fair.
With scent of precious sandal sweet
Down to the nails upon thy feet,
First of the household thou shalt go
And pay with scorn each battled foe.’
Kaikeyi’s praise the damnel heard,
And thus again her lady stirred,
Who lay upon her beauteous bed
Like fire upon the altar fed:
‘Dear Queen, they build the bridge in vain
When swollen streams are dry again.
Arise, thy glorious task complete,
And draw the king to thy retreat.’
The large-eyed lady left her bower
Exulting in her pride of power,
And with the hump-back sought the gloom
And silence of the mourner’s room.
The string of priceless pearls that huug
Around her neck to earth she flung,
With all the wealth and lustre lent
By precious gem and ornament.
Then, listening to her slave’s advice,
Lay, like a nymph from Paradise.
As on the ground her limbs she laid
Once more she cried unto the maid:
‘Soon must thou to the monarch say
Kaikeyi’s soul has past away,
Or, Ráma banished as we planned,
My son made king shall rule the land.
No more for gold and gems I care,
For brave attire or dainty fare.
If Ráma should the throne ascend,
That very hour my life will end.’
The royal lady wounded through
The bosom with the darts that flew
Launched from the hump-back’s tongue
Pressed both her hands upon her side,
And o’er and o’er again she cried
With wildering fury stung:
‘Yes, it shall be thy task to tell
That I have hurried hence to dwell
In Yama’s realms of woe,
Or happy Bharat shall be king,
And doomed to years of wandering
Kaus’alyá’s son shall go.
I heed not dainty viands now
Fair wreaths of flowers to twine my brow,
Soft balm or precious scent:
My very life I count as naught,
Nothing on earth can claim my thought
But Ráma’s banishment.’
She spoke these words of cruel ire;
Then stripping off her gay attire,
The cold bare floor she pressed.
So, falling from her home on high,
Some lovely daughter of the sky
Upon the ground might rest.
With darkened brow and furious mien,
Stripped of her gems and wreath, the queen
In spotless beauty lay,
Like heaven obscured with gathering cloud,
When shades of midnight darkness shroud
Each star’s expiring ray.
As Queen Kaikeví thus obeyed
The sinful counsel of her maid
She sank upon the chamber floor,
As sinks in anguish, wounded sore,
An elephant beneath the smart
Of the wild hunter’s venomed dart.
The lovely lady in her mind
Resolved the plot her maid designed,
And prompt the gain and risk to scan
She step by step approved the plan.
Misguided by the hump back’s guile
She pondered her resolve awhile,
As the fair path that bliss secured
The miserable lady lured,
[ p. 101 ]
Devoted to her queen, and swayed
By hopes of gain and bliss, the maid
Rejoiced her lady’s purpose known,
And deemed the prize she sought her own.
Then bent upon her purpose dire,
Kaikeyí with her soul on fire,
Upon the floor lay, languid, down,
Her brows contracted in a frown.
The bright-hued wreath that bound her hair,
Chains, necklets, jewels rich and rare,
Stripped off by her own fingers lay
Spread on the ground in disarray,
And to the floor a lustre lent
As stars light up the firmament.
Thus prostrate in the mourner’s cell,
In garb of woe the lady fell,
Her long hair in a single braid,
Like some fair nymph of heaven dismayed. [14]
The monarch, Ráma to install,
With thoughtful care had ordered all,
And now within his home withdrew,
Dismissing first his retinue.
Now all the town has heard, thought he,
What joyful rite the morn will see.
So turned he to her bower to cheer
With the glad news his darling’s ear.
Majestic, as the Lord of Night,
When threatened by the Dragon’s might,
Bursts radiant on the evening sky
Pale with the clouds that wander by,
So Das’aratha, great in fame,
To Queen Kaikeyí’s palace came.
There parrots flew from tree to tree,
And gorgeous peacocks wandered free,
While ever and anon was heard
The note of some glad water-bird.
Here loitered dwarf and hump-backed maid,
There lute and here sweet music played.
Here, rich in blossom, creepers twined
O’er grots with wondrous art designed,
There Champac and As’oka flowers
Hung glorious o’er the summer bowers,
And mid the waving verdure rose
Gold, silver, ivory porticoes.
Through all the months in ceaseless store
The trees both fruit and blossom bore.
With many a lake the grounds were graced;
Seats gold and silver, here were placed;
Here every viand wooed the taste,
It was a garden meet to vie
E’en with the home of Gods on high.
Within the mansion rich and vast
The mighty Das’aratha passed:
Not there was his beloved queen
On her fair couch reclining seen.
With love his eager pulses beat
For the dear wife he came to meet,
And in his blissful hopes deceived,
He sought his absent love and grieved.
For never had she missed the hour
Of meeting in her sumptuous bower,
And never had the king of men
Entered the empty room till then.
Still urged by love and anxious thought
News of his favourite queen he sought,
For never had his loving eyes
Found her or selfish or unwise.
Then spoke at length the warder maid,
With hands upraised and sore afraid:
‘My Lord and King, the queen has sought
The mourner’s cell with rage distraught.’
The words the warder maiden said
He heard with soul disquieted,
And thus as fiercer grief assailed,
His troubled senses wellnigh failed.
Consumed by torturing fires of grief
The king, the world’s imperial chief,
His lady lying on the ground
In most unqueenly posture, found.
The aged king, all pure within,
Saw the young queen resolved on sin,
Low on the ground, his own sweet wife,
To him far dearer than his life,
Like some fair creeping plant uptorn,
Or like a maid of heaven forlorn,
A nymph of air or Goddess sent
From Swarga down in banishment.
As some wild elephant who tries
To soothe his consort as she lies
Struck by the hunter’s venomed dart,
So the great king disturbed in heart.
Strove with soft hand and fond caress
To soothe his darling queen’s distress,
Aud in his love addressed with sighs
The lady of the lotus eyes:
'I know not, Queen, why thou shouldst be
Thus angered to the heart with me.
Say, who has alighted thee, or whence
Has come the cause of such offence
That in the dust thou liest low,
And rendest my fond heart with woe,
As if some goblin of the night
Had struck thee with a deadly blight,
And cast foul influence on her
Whose spells my loving bosom stir?
I have Physicians famed for skill,
Each trained to cure some special ill:
My sweetest lady, tell thy pain,
And they shall make thee well again.
Whom, darling, wouldst thou punished see?
Or whom enriched with lordly fee?
[ p. 102 ]
“Weep not, my lovely Queen, and stay
This grief that wears thy frame away
Speak, and the guilty shall be freed,
The guiltless be condemned to bleed.
The poor enriched, the rich abased.
The low set high, the proud disgraced.
Mv lords and I thy will obey,
All slaves who own thy sovereign sway;
And I can ne’er my heart incline
To check in aught one wish of thine.
Now by my life I pray thee tell
The thoughts that in thy bosom dwell,
The power and might thou knowest wel.
Should from thy breast all doubt expel,
I swear by all my merit won,
Speak, and thy pleasure shall be done.
Far as the world’s wide bounds extend
My glorious empire knows no end.
Mine are the tribes in eastern lands,
And those who dwell on Sindhu’s sands:
Mine is Suráshtra, far away,
Suvíra’s realm admits my sway.
My best the southern nations fear,
The Angas and the Vaugas hear.
And as lord paramount I reign
O’er Magadh and the Matsyas’ plain,
Kos’al, and Kási’s wide domain: 1
All rich in treasures of the mine.
In golden corn, sheep, goats, and kine.
Choose what thou wilt. Kaikeyi, thence:
But tell me, O my darling, whence
Arose thy grief, and it shall fly
Like hoar-frost when the sun is high.’
She, by his loving words consoled,
Longed her dire purpose to unfold,
And sought with sharper pangs to wring
The bosom of her lord the king.
89:1 S’atrughna means slayer of foes, and the word is repeated as an intensive epithet. ↩︎
89:2 Alluding to the images of Vishnu, which have four arms, the four princes being portions of the substance of that God. ↩︎
90:1 Chief of the insignia of imperial dignity. ↩︎
91:1 Whisks, usually made of the long tails of the Yak. ↩︎
92:1 Chitraratha, King of the Gandharvas. ↩︎
92:2 The Chandrakánta or Moonstone, a sort of crystal supposed to be composed of congealed moonbeams. ↩︎
92:1b A customary mark of respect to a superior. ↩︎
93:1 Ráhu, the ascending node, is in mythology a demon with the tail of a dragon whose head was severed from his body by Vishnu, but being immortal, the head and tail retained their separate existence and being transferred to the stellar sphere became the authors of eclipses; the first especially by endeavouring to swallow the sun and moon. ↩︎
93:2 In eclipse. ↩︎
93:3 The seventh of the lunar asterisms. ↩︎
95:1 A king of the Lunar race, and father of Yayáti. ↩︎
99:1 Literally the chamber of wrath, a ‘growlery,’ a small, dark, unfurnished room to which it seems, the wives and ladies of the king betook themselves when offended and sulky. ↩︎
100:1 In these four lines I do not translate faithfully, and I do not venture to follow Kaikeyi farther in her eulogy of the hump- back’s charms. ↩︎
101:1 These verses are evidently an interpolation. They contain nothing that has not been already related: the words only are altered. As the whole poem could not be recited at once, the rhapsodists at the beginning of a fresh recitation would naturally remind their hearers of the events immediately preceding. ↩︎