Ere yet the dawn had ushered in
The day should see the march begin,
Herald and bard who rightly knew
Each nice degree of honour due,
Their loud auspicious voices raised.
And royal Bharat blessed and praised.
With sticks of gold the drum they smote,
Which thundered out its deafening note,
Blew loud the sounding shell, and blent
Each high and low-toned instrument.
The mingled sound of drum and horn
Through all the air was quickly borne,
And as in Bharat’s ear it rang,
Gave the sad prince another pang.
Then Bharat starting from repose,
Stilled the glad sounds that round him rose,
‘I am not king—no more mistake:’
Then to S’atrughna thus he spake:
‘O see what general wrongs succeed
Sprung from Kaikeyí’s evil deed!
The king my sire has died and thrown
Fresh miseries on me alone.
The royal bliss, on duty based.
Which our just high-souled father graced,
Wanders in doubt and sore distress
Like a tossed vessel rudderless.
And he who was our lordly stay
Roams in the forest far away,
Expelled by this my mother, who
To duty’s law is most untrue.’
As royal Bharat thus gave vent
To bitter grief in wild lament,
Gazing upon his face the crowd
Of pitying women wept aloud.
His lamentation scarce was o’er,
When Saint Vas’ishtha, skilled in lore
Of royal duty, dear to fame,
To join the great assembly came.
Girt by disciples ever true
Still nearer to that hall he drew,
Resplendent, heavenly to behold,
Adorned with wealth of gems and gold:
E’en so a man in duty tried
Draws near to meet his virtuous bride.
He reached his golden seat o’erlaid
With coverlet of rich brocade.
There sat, in all the Vedas read,
And called the messengers, and said:
‘Go forth, let Bráhman, Warrior, peer,
And every captain gather here:
Let all attentive hither throng:
Go, hasten: we delay too long.
S’atrughna, glorious Bharat bring,
The noble children of the king, [1]
[ p. 190 ]
Yudhájit 1 and Sumantra, all
The truthful and the virtuous call,’
He ended: soon a mighty sound
Of thickening tumult rose around,
As to the hall they bent their course
With car, and elephant, and horse,
The people all with glad acclaim
Welcomed Prince Bharat as he came:
E’en as they loved their king to greet,
Or as the Gods Lord Indra 2 meet.
The vast assembly shone as fair
With Bharat’s kingly face
As Das’aratha’s self were there
To glorify the place.
It gleamed like some unruffled lake
Where monsters huge of mould
With many a snake their pastime take
O’er shells, sand, gems, and gold.
The prudent prince the assembly viewed
Thronged with its noble multitude,
Resplendent as a cloudless night
When the full moon is in his height;
While robes of every varied hue
A glory o’er the synod threw.
The priest in lore of duty skilled
Looked on the crowd the hall that filled,
And then in accents soft and grave
To Bharat thus his counsel gave:
‘The king, dear son, so good and wise,
Has gone from earth and gained the skies,
Leaving to thee, her rightful lord,
This rich wide land with foison stored.
And still has faithful Ráma stood
Firm to the duty of the good,
And kept his father’s host aright,
As the moon keeps its own dear light.
Thus sire and brother yield to thee
This realm from all annoyance free:
Bejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own:
Anointed king, ascend the throne.
Let vassal Princes hasten forth
From distant lands, west, south, and north,
From Kerala, [2] from every sea,
And bring ten million gems to thee.’
As thus the sage Vas’ishtha spoke,
A storm of grief o’er Bharat broke.
And longing to he just and true,
His thoughts to duteous Ráma flew.
With sobs and sighs and broken tones,
E’en as a wounded mallard moans,
He mourned with deepest sorrow moved,
And thus the holy priest reproved:
‘O, how can such as Bharat dare
The power and sway from him to tear,
Wise, and devout, and true, and chaste,
With Scripture lore and virtue graced?
Can one of Das’aratha’s seed
Be guilty of so vile a deed?
The realm and I are Ráma’s: thou,
Shouldst speak the words of justice now.
For he, to claims of virtue true,
Is eldest born and noblest too:
Nahush, Dilîpa could not be
More famous in their lives than he.
As Das’aratha ruled of right,
So Ráma’s is the power and right.
If I should do this sinful deed
And forfeit hope of heavenly need,
My guilty act would dim the shine
Of old Ikshváku’s glorious line.
Nay, as the sin my mother wrought
Is grievous to my inmost thought,
I here, my hands together laid,
Will greet him in the pathless shade,
To Ráma shall my steps be bent,
My King, of men most excellent,
Raghu’s illustrious son, whose sway
Might, hell, and earth, and heaven obey.’
That righteous speech, whose every word
Bore virtue’s, stamp, the audience heard;
On Ráma every thought was set,
And with glad tears each eye was wet.
‘Then, if the power I still should lack
To bring my noble brother back,
I in the wood will dwell, and share
His banishment with Lakshman there.
By every art persuasive I
To bring him from the wood will try,
And show him to your loving eyes.
O Brahmans noble, good, and wise.
E’en now, the road to make and clear,
Each labourer pressed, and pioneer
Have I sent forward to precede
The army I resolve to lead.’
Thus, by fraternal love possessed,
His firm resolve the prince expressed.
Then to Sumantra, deeply read
In holy texts, he turned and said:
‘Sumantra, rise without delay,
And as I bid my words obey.
Give orders for the march with speed,
And all the army hither lead.’
The wise Sumantra, thus addressed,
Obeyed the high-souled chief’s behest.
He hurried forth with joy inspired
And gave the orders he desired.
Delight each soldier’s bosom filled,
Aud through each chief and captain thrilled,
[ p. 191 ]
To hear that march proclaimed, to bring
Dear Ráma back from wandering.
From house to house the tidings flew:
Each soldier’s wife the order knew,
And as she listened blithe and gay
Her husband urged to speed away.
Captain and soldier soon declared
The host equipped and all prepared
With chariots matching thought for speed,
And wagons drawn by ox and steed.
When Bharat by Vás’ishtha’s side,
His ready host of warriors eyed,
Thus in Sumantra’s ear he spoke.:
‘My car and horses quickly yoke.’
Sumantra hastened to fulfil
With ready joy his master’s will,
And quickly with the chariot sped
Drawn by fleet horses nobly bred.
Then glorious Bharat, true, devout,
Whose genuine valour none could doubt,
Gave in fit words his order out;
For he would seek the shade
Of the great distant wood, and there
Win his dear brother with his prayer:
‘Sumantra, haste! my will declare
The host be all arrayed.
I to the wood my way will take,
To Ráma supplication make,
And for the world’s advantage sake,
Will lead him home again.’
Then, ordered thus, the charioteer
Who listened with delighted ear,
Went forth and gave his orders clear
To captains of the train.
He gave the popular chiefs the word,
And with the news his friends he stirred,
And not a single man deferred
Preparing for the road.
Then Bráhman, Warrior, Merchant, thrall,
Obedient to Sumantra’s call,
Each in his house arose, and all
Yoked elephant or camel tall,
Or ass or noble steed in stall,
And full appointed showed.
Then Bharat rose at early morn,
And in his noble chariot borne
Drove forward at a rapid pace
Eager to look on Ráma’s face.
The priests and lords, a fair array,
In sun-bright chariots led the way.
Behind, a well appointed throng,
Nine thousand elephants streamed along.
Then sixty thousand cars, and then,
With various arms, came fighting men.
A hundred thousand archers showed
In lengthened line the steeds they rode—
A mighty host, the march to grace
Of Bharat, pride of Raghu’s race.
Kaikeyí and Sumitrá came,
And good Kaus’alyá, dear to fame:
By hopes of Ráma’s coming cheered
They in a radiant car appeared.
On fared the noble host to see
Ráma and Lakshman, wild with glee,
And still each other’s ear to please,
Of Ráma spoke in words like these:
‘When shall our happv eyes behold
Our hero true, and pure, and bold,
So lustrous dark, so strong of arm,
Who keeps the world from woe and harm?
The tears that now our eyeballs dim
Will vanish at the sight of him,
As the whole world’s black shadows fly
When the bright sun ascends the sky.’
Conversing thus their way pursued
The city’s joyous multitude,
And each in mutual rapture pressed
A friend or neighbour to his breast.
Thus every man of high renown,
And every merchant of the town,
And leading subjects, joyous went
Toward Ráma in his banishment.
And those who worked the potter’s wheel,
And artists skilled in gems to deal;
And masters of the weaver’s art,
And those who shaped the sword and dart;
And they who golden trinkets made,
And those who plied the fuller’s trade;
And servants trained the bath to heat,
And they who dealt in incense sweet;
Physicians in their business skilled.
And those who wine and mead distilled;
And workmen deft in glass who wrought,
And those whose snares the peacock caught;
With them who bored the ear for rings,
Or sawed, or fashioned ivory things:
And those who knew to mix cement,
Or lived by sale of precious scent;
And men who washed, and men who sewed,
And thralls who mid the herds abode;
And fishers of the flood, and they
Who played and sang, and women gay;
And virtuous Bráhmans, Scripture-wise,
Of life approved in all men’s eyes;
These swelled the prince’s lengthened train,
Borne each in car or bullock wain.
Fair were the robes they wore upon
Their limbs where red-hued unguents shone.
These all in various modes conveyed
Their journey after Bharat made;
The soldiers’ hearts with rapture glowed,
Following Bharat on his road,
Their chief whose tender love would fain
Bring his dear brother home again.
With elephant, and horse, and car,
The vast procession travelled far,
[ p. 192 ]
And came where Gangá’s waves below
The town of Sringavera 1 flow.
There, with his friends and kinsmen nigh,
Dwelt Guha, Ráma’s dear ally,
Heroic guardian of the land
With dauntless heart and ready hand.
There for a while the mighty force
That followed Bharat stayed its course,
Gazing on Gangá’s bosom stirred
By many a graceful water-bird.
When Bharat viewed his followers there,
And Gangá’s water, blest and fair,
The prince, who lore of words possessed,
His councillors and lords addressed:
‘The captains of the army call:
Proclaim this day a halt for all,
That so to-morrow, rested, we
May cross this flood that seeks the sea.
Meanwhile, descending to the shore,
The funeral stream I fain would pour
From Gangá’s fair auspicious tide
To him, my father glorified.’
Thus Bharat spoke: each peer and lord
Approved his words with one accord,
And bade the weary troops repose
In separate spots where’er they chose.
There by the mighty stream that day,
Most glorious in its vast array
The prince’s wearied army lay
In various groups reclined.
There Bharat’s hours of night were spent,
While every eager thought he bent
On bringing home from banishment
His brother, great of mind.
King Guha saw the host spread o’er
The wide expanse of Gangá’s shore,
With waving flag and pennon graced,
And to his followers spoke in haste:
‘A mighty army meets my eyes,
That rivals Ocean’s self in size:
Where’er I look my very mind
No limit to the host can find.
Sure Bharat with some evil thought
His army to our land has brought.
See, huge of form, his flag he rears,
That like an Ebony-tree appears.
He comes with bonds to take and chain,
Or triumph o’er our people slain:
And after, Ráma will be slay,—
Him whom his father drove away:
The power complete he longs to gain.
And—task too hard—usurp the reign.
So Bharat comes with wicked will
His brother Rama’s blood to spill.
But Ráma’s slave and friend am I;
He is my lord and dear ally.
Keep here your watch in arms arrayed
Near Gangá’s flood to lend him aid,
And let my gathered servants stand
And line with troops the river strand.
Here let the river keepers meet.
Who flesh and roots and berries eat;
A hundred fishers man each boat
Of the five hundred here afloat,
And let the youthful and the strong
Assemble in defensive throng.
But yet, if, free from guilty thought
‘Gainst Ráma, he this land have sought,
The prince’s happy host to day
Across the flood shall make its way.’
He spoke: then bearing in a dish
A gift of honey, meat, and fish,
The king of the Nishadas drew
Toward Bharat for an interview.
When Bharat’s noble charioteer
Observed the monarch hastening near,
He duly, skilled in courteous lore,
The tidings to his master bore:
‘This aged prince who hither bends
His footsteps with a thousand friends,
Knows, firm ally of Ráma, all
That may in Danduk wood befall:
Therefore, Kakutstha’s son, admit
The monarch, as is right and fit:
For doubtless he can clearly tell
Where Ráma now and Lakshman dwell.’
When Bharat heard Sumantra’s rede,
To his fair words the prince agreed:
‘Go quickly forth,’ he cried, 'and bring
Before my face the aged king.’
King Guha, with his kinsmen near,
Rejoiced the summoning to hear:
He nearer drew, bowed low his head,
And thus to royal Bharat said:
‘No mansions can our country boast,
And unexpected comes thy host:
But what we have I give thee all:
Rest in the lodging of thy thrall.
See, the Nishadas here have brought
The fruit and roots their hands have sought:
And we have woodland fare beside.
And store of meat both fresh and dried.
To rest their weary limbs, I pray
This night at least thy host may stay:
Then cheered with all we can bestow
To-morrow thou with it mayst go.’
Thus tho Nishadas’ king besought:
The prince with spirit wisdom-fraught
[ p. 193 ]
Replied in seemly words that blent
Deep matter with the argument:
‘Thou, friend of him whom I revere,
With honours high hast met me here,
For thou alone wouldst entertain
Aud feed to-day so vast a train.”
In such fair words the prince replied,
Then, pointing to the path he cried:
‘Which way aright will lead my feet
To Bharadvája’s calm retreat;
For all this land near Gangá’s streams
Pathless and hard to traverse seems?’
Thus spoke the prince: King Guha heard
Delighted every prudent word,
And gazing on that forest wide,
Raised suppliant hands, and thus replied:
‘My servants, all the ground who know,
O glorious Prince, with thee shall go
With constant care thy way to guide,
And I will journey by thy side.
But this thy host so wide dispread
Wakes in my heart one doubt and dread,
Lest, threatening Ráma good and great,
Ill thoughts thy journey stimulate.”
But wheu King Guha, ill at ease,
Declared his fear in words like these,
As pure as is the cloudless sky
With soft voice Bharat made reply:
‘Suspect me not: ne’er come the time
For me to plot so foul a crime!
He is my eldest brother, he
Is like a father dear to me.
I go to lead my brother thence
Who makes the wood his residence.
No thought but this thy heart should frame:
This simple truth my lips proclaim.’
Then with glad cheer King Guha cried,
With Bharat’s answer gratified:
‘Blessed art thou: on earth I see
None who may vie, O Prince, with thee,
Who canst of thy free will resign
The kingdom which unsought is thine.
For this, a name that ne’er shall die,
Thy glory through the worlds shall fly,
Who fain wouldst balm thy brother’s pain
And lead the exile home again.’
As Guha thus, and Bharat, each
To other spoke in friendly speech,
The Day God sank with glory dead,
And night o’er all the sky was spread.
Soon as King Guha’s thoughtful care
Had quartered all the armv there,
Well honoured, Bharat laid his head
Beside S’atrughna on a bed.
But grief for Ráma yet oppressed
High-minded Bharat’s faithful breast—
Such torment little was deserved
By him who ne’er from duty swerved.
The fever raged through every vein
And burnt him with its inward pain:
So when in woods the flames leap free
The fire within consumes the tree.
From heat of burning anguish sprung
The sweat upon his body hung,
As when the sun with fervid glow
On high Himalaya melts the snow.
As, banished from the herd, a bull
Wanders alone and sorrowful.
Thus sighing and distressed,
In misery and bitter grief,
With fevered heart that mocked relief,
Distracted in his mind, the chief
Still mourned and found no rest.
Guha the king, acquainted well
With all that in the wood befell,
To Bharat the unequalled told
The tale of Lakshman mighty-souled:
‘With many an earnest word I spake
To Lakshman as he stayed awake,
And with his bow and shaft in hand
To guard his brother kept his stand:
‘Now sleep a little, Lakshman, see
This pleasant bed is strewn for thee:
Hereon thy weary bodv lay,
And strengthen thee with rest, I pray,
Inured to toil are men like these,
But thou hast aye been nursed in ease.
Rest, duteous-minded! I will keep
My watch while Ráma lies asleep:
For in the whole wide world is none
Dearer to me than Raghu’s son.
Harbour no doubt or jealous fear:
I speak the truth with heart sincere:
For from the grace which he has shown
Will glory on my name be thrown:
Great store of merit shall I gain,
And duteous, form no wish in vain.
Let me enforced by many a row
Of followers, armed with shaft and bow
For well-loved Ráma’s weal provide
Who lies asleep by Sitá’s side.
For through this wood I often go,
And all its shades conceal I know:
And we with conquering arms can meet
A four-fold host arrayed complete.’
With words like these I spoke, designed
To move the high-souled Bharat’s mind,
But he upon his duty bent,
Plied his persuasive argument:
‘O, how can slumber close mine eyes
When lowly couched with Sitá lies
The royal Ráma? can I give
My heart to joy, or even live?
He whom no mighty demon, no,
Nor heavenly God can overthrow,
See, Guha, how he lies, alas,
[ p. 194 ]
With Sítá couched on gathered grass.
By varied labours, long, severe,
By many a prayer and rite austere,
He, Das’aratha’s cherished son,
By Fortune stamped, from Heaven was won.
Now as his son is forced to fly,
The king ere long will surely die:
Reft of his guardian hand, forlorn
In widowed grief this land will mourn,
E’en now perhaps, with toil o’erspent,
The women cease their loud lament,
And cries of woe no longer ring
Throughout the palace of the king.
But ah for sad Kaus’alyá! how
Fare she and mine own mothef now?
How fares the king? this night, I think,
Some of the three in death will sink.
With hopes upon S’atrughna set
My mother may survive as yet,
But the sad queen will die who bore
The hero, for her grief is sore.
His cherished wish that would have made
Dear Ráma king, so long delayed,
‘Too late! too late!’ the king will cry,
And conquered by his misery die.
When Fate has brought the mournful day
Which sees my father pass away,
How happy in their lives are they
Allowed his funeral rites to pay.
Our exile o’er, with him who ne’er
Turns from the oath his lips may swear,
May we returning safe and well
Again in fair Ayodhyá dwell.’
Thus Bharat stood with many a sigh
Lamenting, and the night went by.
Soon as the morning light shone fair
In votive coils both bound their hair.
And then I sent them safely o’er
And left them on the farther shore.
With Sítá then they onward passed,
Their coats of bark about them cast,
Their locks like hermits’ bound,
The mighty tamers of the foe,
Each with his arrows and his bow,
Went over the rugged ground,
Proud in their strength and undeterred
Like elephants that lead the herd,
And gazing oft around.
That speech of Guha Bharat heard
With grief and tender pity stirred,
And as his ears the story drank,
Deep in his thoughtful heart it sank.
His large full eyes in anguish rolled,
His trembling limbs grew stiff and cold;
Then fell he, like a tree upturn,
In woe too grievous to be borne.
When Guha saw the long-armed chief
Whose eye was like a lotus leaf,
With lion shoulders strong and fair,
High-mettled, prostrate in despair,—
Pale, bitterly afflicted, he
Reeled as in earthquake reels a tree.
But when S’atrughna standing nigh
Saw his dear brother helpless lie,
Distraught with woe his head he bowed,
Embraced him oft and wept aloud.
Then Bharat’s mothers came, forlorn
Of their dear king, with fasting worn,
And stood with weeping eyes around
The hero prostrate on the ground.
Kaus’alyá, by her woe oppressed,
The senseless Bharat’s limbs caressed
As a fond cow in love and fear
Caresses oft her youngling dear:
Then yielding to her woe she said,
Weeping and sore disquieted:
‘What torments, O my son, are these
Of sudden pain or swift disease?
The lives of us and all the line
Depend, dear child, on only thine.
Ráma and Lakshman forced to flee,
I live by naught but seeing thee:
For as the king has past away
Thou art my only help to-day.
Hast thou, perchance, heard evil news
Of Lakshman, which thy soul subdues,
Or Ráma dwelling with his spouse—
My all is he—neath forest boughs?’
Then slowly gathering sense and strength
The weeping hero rose at length,
And words like these to Guha spake,
That bade Kaus’alyá comfort take:
‘Where lodged the prince that night? and where
Lakshman the brave, and Sítá fair?
Show me the couch whereon he lay,
Tell me the food he ate, I pray.’
Then Guha the Nishádas’ king
Replied to Bharat’s questioning:
‘Of all I had I brought the best
To serve my good and honoured guest
Food of each varied kind I chose,
And every fairest fruit that grows.
Ráma the hero truly brave
Declined the gift I humbly gave:
His Warrior part he ne’er forgot,
And what I brought accepted not:
‘No gifts, my friend, may we accept:
Our law is, Give, and must be kept.”
‘The high-souled chief, O Monarch, thus
With gracious words persuaded us.
Then calm and still, absorbed in thought,
He drank the water Lakshman brought,
And then, obedient to his vows,
He fasted with his gentle spouse.
So Lakshman too from food abstained,
[ p. 195 ]
And sipped the water that remained:
Then with ruled lips, devoutly staid,
The three 1 their evening worship paid.
Then Lakshman with unwearied care
Brought heaps of sacred grass, and there
With his own hands he quickly spread,
For Ráma’s rest, a pleasant bed,
And faithful Sitá’s too, where they
Reclining each by other lay.
Then Lakshman bathed their feet, and drew
A little distance from the two.
Here stands the tree which lent them shade,
Here is the grass beneath it laid,
Where Ráma and his consort spent
The night together ere they went.
Lakshman, whose arms the foeman quell,
Watched all the night as sentinel,
And kept his great bow strung:
His hand was gloved, his arm waa braced,
Two well-filled quivers at his waist,
With deadly arrows, hung.
I took my shafts and trusty bow,
And with that tamer of the foe
Stood ever wakeful near,
And with my followers, bow in hand,
Behind me ranged, a ready band,
Kept watch o’er Indra’s peer.’
When Bharat with each friend and peer
Had heard that tale so full and clear,
They went together to the tree
The bed which Ráma pressed to see.
Then Bharat to his mothers said:
‘Behold the high-souled hero’s bed:
These tumbled heaps of grass betray
Where he that night with Sitá lay:
Unmeet, the heir of fortune high
Thus on the cold bare earth should lie,
The monarch’s son, in counsel sage,
Of old imperial lineage.
That lion-lord whose noble bed
With finest skins of deer was spread,—
How can he now endure to press
The bare earth, cold and comfortless!
This sudden fall from bliss to grief
Appears untrue, beyond belief:
My senses are distraught: I seem
To view the fancies of a dream.
There is no deity so great,
No power in heaven can master Fate,
If Ráma, Das’aratha’s heir,
Lay on the ground and slumbered there;
And lovely Sitá, she who springs
From fair Videha’s ancient kings,
Ráma’s dear wife, by all adored,
Lay on the earth beside her lord.
Here was his couch, upon this heap
He tossed and turned in restless sleep:
On the hard soil each manly limb
Has stamped the grass with signs of him,
That night, it seems, fair Sitá spent
Arrayed in every ornament,
For here and there my eyes behold
Small particles of glistering gold.
She laid her outer garment here,
For still some silken threads appear,
How dear in her devoted eyes
Must be the bed where Ráma lies,
Where she so tender could repose
And by his side forget her woes.
Alas, unhappy, guilty me!
For whom the prince was forced to flee,
And chief of Raghu’s sons and best,
A bed like this with Sitá pressed.
Son of a royal sire whose hand
Ruled paramount o’er every land,
Could he who every joy bestows,
Whose body like the lotus shows,
The friend of all, who charms the sight,
Whose flashing eyes are darkly bright.
Leave the dear kingdom, his by right,
Unmeet for woe, the heir of bliss,
And lie upon a bed like this?
Great joy and happy fate are thine,
O Lakshman, marked with each fair sign,
Whose faithful footsteps follow still
Thy brother in his hour of ill.
And blest is Sitá, nobly good,
Who dwells with Ráma in the wood.
Ours is, alas, a doubtful fate
Of Ráma reft and desolate.
My royal sire has gained the skies,
In woods the high-souled hero lies;
The state is wrecked and tempest-tossed,
A vessel with her rudder lost.
Yet none in secret thought has planned
With hostile might to seize the land:
Though forced in distant wilds to dwell,
The hero’s arm protects it well.
Unguarded, with deserted wall,
No elephant or steed in stall,
My father’s royal city shows
Her portals open to her foes,
Of bold protectors reft and bare,
Defenceless in her dark despair:
But still her foes the wish restrain,
As men from poisoned cates refrain.
I from this hour my nights will pass
Couched on the earth or gathered grass,
Eat only fruit and roots, and wear
A coat of bark, and matted hair.
I in the woods will pass, content,
For him the term of banishment;
So shall I still unbroken save
The promise which the hero gave.
[ p. 196 ]
While I remain for Ráma there,
S’atrnghna will my exile share,
And Ráma in his home again,
With Lakshman, o’er Ayodhyá reign,
for him, to rule and guard the state,
The twice-born men shall consecrate.
O, may the Gods I serve incline
To grant this earnest wish of mine!
If when I bow before his feet
And with all moving arts entreat,
He still deny my prayer,
Then with my brother will I live:
He must, he must permission give,
Roaming in forests there.’
That night the son of Raghu lay
On Gangá’s bank till break of day:
Then with the earliest light he woke
And thus to brave S’atrughna spoke.
‘Rise up, S’atrughna, from thy bed:
Why sleepest thou the night is fled.
See how the sun who chases night
Wakes every lotus with his light.
Arise, arise, and first of all
The lord of S’ringavera call,
For he his friendly aid will lend
Our army o’er the flood to send.’
Thus urged, S’atrughna answered: ‘I,
Remembering Ráma, sleepless lie.’
As thus the brothers, each to each,
The lion-mettled, ended speech,
Came Guha, the Nishádas’ king,
And spoke with kindly questioning:
‘Hast thou in comfort passed,’ he cried,
‘The night upon the river side?
With thee how fares it? and are these,
Thy soldiers, health and at ease?’
Thus the Nishádas’ lord inquired
In gentle words which love inspired,
And Bharat, Ráma’s faithful slave,
Thus to the king his answer gave:
‘The night has sweetly passed, and we
Are highly honoured, King, by thee.
Now let thy servants boats prepare,
Our army o’er the stream to bear.’
The speech of Bharat Guha heard,
And swift to do his bidding stirred.
Within the town the monarch sped
And to his ready kinsmen said:
‘Awake, each kinsman, rise, each friend!
May every joy your lives attend.
Gather each boat upon the shore
And ferry all the army o’er.’
Thus Guha spoke: nor they delayed,
But, rising quick, their lord obeyed,
And soon, from every side secured,
Five hundred boats were ready moored.
Some reared aloft the mystic sign, [3]
And mighty bells were hung in line:
Of firmest build, gay flags they bore,
And sailors for the helm and oar.
One such King Guha chose, whereon,
Of fair white cloth, an awning shone,
And sweet musicians charmed the ear,—
And bade his servants urge it near.
Then Bharat swiftly sprang on board,
And then S’atrughna, famous lord,
To whom, with many a royal dame,
Kaus’alyá and Sumitrá came.
The household priest went first in place,
The elders, and the Brahman race,
And after them the monarch’s train
Of women borne in many a wain,
Then high to heaven the shouts of those
Who fired the army’s huts, [4] arose,
With theirs who bathed along the shore,
Or to the boats the baggage bore.
Full freighted with that mighty force
The boats sped swiftly on their coarse,
By royal Guha’s servants manned,
And gentle gales the banners fanned.
Some boats a crowd of dames conveyed,
In others noble coursers neighed;
Some chariots and their cattle bore,
Some precious wealth and golden store.
Across the stream each boat was rowed,
There duly disembarked its load,
And then returning on its way,
Sped here and there in merry play.
Then swimming elephants appeared
With flying pennons high upreared.
And as the drivers urged them o’er,
The look of winged mountains wore.
Some men in barges reached the strand,
Others on rafts came safe to land:
Some buoyed with pitchers crossed the tide,
And others on their arms relied.
Thus with the help the monarch gave
The army crossed pure Gangá’s wave:
Then in auspicious hour it stood
Within Prayuga’s famous wood.
The prince with cheering words addressed
His weary mem, and bade them rest
Where’er they chose and he,
With priest and deacon by his side,
To Bharadvaja’s dwelling hied
That best of saints to see.
[ p. 197 ]
The prince of men a league away
Saw where the hermit’s dwelling lay,
Then with his lords his path pursued,
And left his warrior multitude.
On foot, as duty taught his mind,
He left his warlike gear behind:
Two robes of linen cloth he wore,
And bade Vas’ishtha walk before.
Then Bharat from his lords withdrew
When Bharadvája came in view,
And toward the holy hermit went
Behind Vas’ishtha, reverent.
When Bharadvája, saint austere,
Saw good Vis’ishtha drawing near,
He cried, upspringing from his seat,
‘The grace-gift bring, my friend to greet.’
When Saint Vas’ishtha near him drew,
And Bharat paid the reverence due,
The glorious hermit was aware
That Das’aratha’s son was there.
The grace-gift, water for their feet
He gave, and offered fruit to eat;
Then, duty-skilled, with friendly speech
In seemly order questioned each:
‘How fares it in Ayodhvá now
With treasury and army? how
With kith and kin and friends most dear,
With councillor, and prince, and peer?’
But, for be knew the king was dead,
Of Das’aratha naught he said.
Vas’ishtha and the prince in turn
Would of the hermits welfare learn:
Of holy fires they fain would hear,
Of pupils, trees, and birds, and deer.
The glorious saint his answer made
That all was well in holy shade:
Then love of Ráma moved his breast,
And thus he questioned of his guest:
Why art thou here, O Prince, whose band
With kingly sway protects the land;
Declare the cause, explain the whole.
For yet some doubt disturbs my soul.
He whom Kaus’alyá bare, whose might
The foemen slays, his line’s delight,
He who with wife and brother sent
Afar now roam in banishment.
Famed prince, to whom his father spake
This order for a woman’s sake:
‘Away! and in the forest spend
Thy life till fourteen years shall end’—
Has thou the wish to harm him, bent
On sin against the innocent?
Wouldst thou thine elder’s realm enjoy
Without a thorn that can annoy?’
With sobbing voice and tearful eye
Thus Bharat sadly made reply:
‘Ah lost am I, if thou, O Saint,
Canst thus in thought my heart attaint:
No warning charge from thee I need;
Ne’er could such crime from me proceed.
The words my guilty mother spake
When fondly jealous for my sake—
Think not that I, to triumph moved,
Those words approve or e’er approved.
O Hermit, I have sought this place
To win the lordly hero’s grace,
To throw me at my brother’s feet
And lead him to his royal seat.
To this, my journey’s aim and end,
Thou shouldst, O Saint, thy favour lend:
Where is the lord of earth? do thou,
Most holy, say, where roams he now?
Then, by the saint Vas’ishtha pressed,
And all the gathered priests beside,
To Bharat’s dutiful request
The hermit graciously replied:
‘Worthy of thee, O Prince, this deed,
True son of Raghu’s ancient seed.
I know thee reverent, well-controlled,
The glory of the good of old.
I grant thy prayer: in this pursuit
I know thy heart is resolute.
‘Tis for thy sake those words I said
That wider still thy fame may spread.
I know where Ráma, duty-tried,
His brother, and his wife abide.
Where Chitrakúta’s heights arise
Thy brother Ráma’s dwelling lies.
Go thither with the morning’s light,
And stay with all thy lords tonight:
For I would show thee honour high,
And do not thou my wish deny.’