Kabandha saw each chieftain stand
Imprisoned by his mighty hand,
Which like a snare around him pressed
And thus the royal pair addressed:
‘Why, warriors, are your glances bent
On me whom hungry pangs torment?
Why stand with wildered senses? Fate
Has brought you now my maw to sate.’
When Lakshman heard, a while appalled,
His ancient courage he recalled,
And to his brother by his side
With seasonable counsel cried :
'This vilest of the giant race
Will draw us to his side apace.
Come, rouse thee; let the vengeful sword
Smite off his arms, my honoured lord.
This awful giant, vast of size,
On his huge strength of arm relies,
And o’er the world victorious, thus
With mighty force would slaughter us,
But in cold blood to slay, O King.
Discredit on the brave would bring,
As when some victim in the rite
Shuns not the hand up raised to smite.’
The monstrous fiend, to anger stirred,
The converse of the brothers heard.
His horrid mouth he opened wide
And drew the princes to his side.
They, skilled due time and place to note
Unsheathed their glittering sword and smote,
Till fiom the giant’s shoulders they
Had hewn the mighty arms away.
His trenchant falchion Ráma plied
And smote him on the better side,
While valiant Lakshman on the left
The arm that held him prisoned cleft,
Then to the earth dismembered fell
The monster with a hideous yell,
And like a cloud’s his deep roar went
Through earth and air and firmament.
Then as the giant’s blood flowed fast,
On his cleft limbs his eye he cast,
And called upon the princely pair
Their names and lineage to declare.
Him then the noble Lakshman, blest
With fortune’s favouring marks, addressed,
And told the fiend his brother’s name
And the high blood of which he came:
‘Ikshváku’s heir here Ráma stands,
Illustrious through a hundred lands.
I, younger brother of the heir,
O fiend, the name of Lakshman bear.
His mother stole his realm away
And drove him forth in woods to stray.
Thus through the mighty forest he
Roamed with his royal wife and me.
While glorious as a God he made
His dwelling in the greenwood shade,
Some giant stole away his dame,
And seeking her we hither came.
But tell me who thou art, and why
With headless trunk that towered so high.
With flaming face beneath thy chest,
Thou liest crushed in wild unrest.’
He heard the words that Lakshman spoke,
And memory in his breast awoke,
Recalling Indra’s words to mind
He spoke in gentle tones and kind:
‘O welcome best of men, are ye
Whom, blest by fate, this day I see.
A blessing on each trenchant blade
That low on earth these arms has laid!
Thou, lord of men, incline thine ear
The story of my woe to hear,
While I the rebel pride declare
Which doomed me to the form I wear.’
‘Lord of the mighty arm, of yore
A shape transcending thought I wore,
And through the triple world’s extent
My fame for might and valour went.
[ p. 313 ]
Scarce might the sun and moon on high,
Scarce Sakra, with ray beauty vie.
Then for a time this form I took,
And the great world with trembling shook
The saints in forest shades who dwelt
The terror of my presence felt.
But once I stirred to furious rage
Great Sthúlas’nas, glorious sage.
Culling in woods his hermit food
My hideous shape with fear he viewed.
Then forth his words of anger burst
That bade me live a thing accursed:
‘Thou, whose delight is others’ pain,
This grisly form shalt still retain.’
Then when I prayed him to relent
And fix some term of punishment,—
Prayed that the curse at length might cease,
He bade me thus expect release:
‘Let Ráma cleave thine arms away
And on the pyre thy body lay,
And then shalt thou, set free from doom,
Thine own fair shape once more assume.’
O Lakshman, hear my words: in me
The world-illustrious Danu see.
By Indra’s curse, subdued in fight,
I wear this form which scares the sight.
By sternest penance long maintained
The mighty Father’s grace I gained.
When length of days the God bestowed,
With foolish pride my bosom glowed.
My life, of lengthened years assured,
I deemed from Sakra’s might secured.
Led by my senseless pride astray
I challenged Indra to the fray.
A flaming bolt with many a knot
With his terrific arm he shot.
And straight my head and thighs compressed
Were buried in my bulky chest.
Deaf to each prayer and piteous call
He sent me not to Yama’s hall.
‘These prayers and cries,’ he said ‘are vain.
The Father’s word must true remain
But how my lengthened life be spent
By one the bolt has * and rent?
How can I live’ I cried, 'unfed
With shattered face and thighs and head?’
As thus I spoke his grace to crave
Arms each a league in length he gave,
And opened in my chest beneath
This mouth supplied with fearful teeth.
So my huge arms I used to cast
Round woodland creatures as they passed,
And fed within the forest here
On lion, tiger, pard,* and deer.
Then Indra spake to soothe my grief:
‘When Rama and his brother chief
From thy huge bulk those arms shall cleave,
Then shall the skies thy sould recieve.’
Disguised in this terrific shape
I let no woodland thing escape,
And still my longing sould was pleased
Whene’er my arms a victim seized,
For in these arms I fondly thought
Would Ráma’s self at last be caught.
Thus hoping, toiling many a day
I yearned to cast my life away,
And here, my lord, thou standest now:
Blessings be thine for none but thou
Could cleave my arms with trenchant stroke:
True are the words the hermit spoke.
Now let me, best of warriors, lend
My counsel, and thy plans befriend,
And aid thee with advice in turn
If thou with fire my corse wilt burn.’
As thus the mighty Danu prayed
With offer of his friendly aid,
While Lakshman gazed with anxious eye,
The virtuous Ráma made reply:
‘Lakshman and I through forest shade
From Janasthán a while had strayed.
When none was near her, Rávan came
And bore away my glorious dame,
The giant’s form and size unknown,
I learn as yet his name alone.
Not yet the power and might we know
Or dwelling of the monstrous foe.
With none our helpless feet to guide
We wander here by sorrow tried.
Let pity move thee to requite
Our service in the funeral rite.
Our hands shall bring the boughs that, dry
Where elephants have rent them, lie,
Then dig a pit, and light the fire
To burn thee as the laws require.
Do thou as meed of this declare
Who stole my spouse, his dwelling where,
0, if thou can. I pray thee say,
And let this grace our deeds repay.’
Danu had lent attentive ear
The words which Ráma spoke to hear,
And thus, a speaker skilled and tried.
To that great orator replied:
‘ No heavenly lore my soul endows,
Naught know I of thy Maithil spouse.
Yet will I, when my shape I wear.
Him who will tell thee all declare.
Then, Ráma, will my lips disclose
His name who well that giant knows
But, till the flames my corse devour
This hidden knowledge mocks my power.
For through that curse’s withering taint
My knowledge now is small and faint
Unknown the giant’s very name
Who bore away the Maithil dame
Cursed for my evil deeds I wore
A shape which all the worlds abhor.
Now ere with wearied steeds the sun
Through western skies his course have run,
Deep in a pit my body lay
[ p. 314 ]
And burn it in the wonted way.
When in the grave my corse is placed,
With fire and funeral honours graced,
Then I, great chief, his name will tell
Who knows the giant robber well.
With him, who guides his life aright,
In league of trusting love unite,
And he, O valiant prince, will be
A faithful friend and aid to thee.
For, Ráma, to his searching eyes
The triple world uncovered lies.
For some dark cause of old, I ween,
Through all the spheres his ways have been.’
The monster ceased: the princely pair
Heard great Kabandha’s eager prayer.
Within a mountain cave they sped,
Where kindled fire with care they fed.
Then Lakshman in his mighty hands
Brought ample store of lighted brands,
And to a pile of logs applied
The flame that ran from side to side.
The spreading glow with gentle force
Consumed Kabundha’s mighty corse,
Till the unresting flames had drunk
The marrow of the monstrous trunk,
As balls of butter melt away
Amid the fires that o’er them play.
Then from the pyre, like flame that glows
Undimmed by cloudy smoke, he rose,
In garments pure of spot or speck,
A heavenly wreath about his neck.
Resplendent in his bright attire
He sprang exultant from the pyre.
While from neck, arm, and foot was sent
The flash of gold and ornament.
High on a chariot, bright of hue,
Which swans of fairest pinion drew,
He filled each region of the air
With splendid glow reflected there,
Then in the sky he stayed his car
And called to Ráma from afar:
‘Hear, chieftain, while my lips explain
The means to win thy spouse again.
Six plans, O prince, the wise pursue
To reach the aims we hold in view. [1]
When evils ripening sorely press,
They load the wretch with new distress.
So thou and Lakshman, tried by woe,
Have felt at last a fiercer blow,
And plunged in bitterest grief to-day
Lament thy consort torn away.
There is no course but this: attend;
Make, best of friends, that chief thy friend.
Unless his prospering help thou gain
Thy plans and hopes must all be vain.
O Ráma, hear my words, and seek,
Sugríva, for of him I speak.
His brother Báli, Indra’s son,
Expelled him when the fight was won.
With four great chieftains, faithful still,
He dwells on Rishyamúka’s hill.—
Fair mountain, lovely with the flow
Of Pampá’s waves that glide below,—
Lord of the Vánars [2] just and true,
Strong, very glorious, bright to view,
Unmatched in counsel, firm and meek,
Bound by each word his lips may speak,
Good, splendid, mighty, bold and brave,
Wise in each plan to guide and save,
His brother, fired by lust of sway,
Drove forth the prince in woods to stray.
In all thy search for Sítá he
Thy ready friend and help will be.
With him to aid thee in thy quest
Dismiss all sorrow from thy breast.
Time is a mighty power, and none
His fixed decree can change or shun.
So rich reward thy toil shall bless,
And naught can stay thy sure success.
Speed hence, O chief, without delay,
To strong Sugríva take thy way.
This hour thy footsteps onward bend,
And make that mighty prince thy friend.
With him before the attesting flame
In solemn truth alliance frame.
Nor wilt thou, if thy heart be wise,
Sugríva, Vánar king, despise.
Of boundless strength, all shapes he wears,
He hearkens to a suppliant’s prayers,
And, grateful for each kindly deed,
Will help and save in hour of need,
And you, I ween, the power possess
To aid his hopes and give redress.
He, let his cause succeed or fail,
Will help you, and you must prevail.
A banished prince, in fear and woe
He roams where Pampá’s waters flow,
True offspring of the Lord of Light
Expelled by Báli’s conquering might.
Go, Raghu’s son, that chieftain seek
Who dwells on Rishyamúka’s peak.
Before the flame thy weapons cast
And bind the bonds of friendship fast.
For, prince of all the Vánar race,
He in his wisdom knows each place
Where dwell the fierce gigantic brood
Who make the flesh of man their food.
To him, O Raghu’s son, to him
Naught in the world is dark or dim,
Where’er the mighty Day-God gleams
Resplendent with a thousand beams.
[ p. 315 ]
He over rocky height and hill,
Through gloomy cave, by lake and rill,
Will with his Vánars seek the prize,
And tell thee where thy lady lies.
And he will send great chieftains forth
To east and west and south and north,
To seek the distant spot where she
All desolate laments for thee.
He even in Rávan’s halls would find
Thy Sítá, gem of womankind.
Yea, if the blameless lady lay
On Meru’s loftiest steep.
Or, far removed from light of day,
Where hell is dark and deep,
That chief of all the Vánar race
His way would still explore,
Meet the cowed giants face to face
And thy dear spouse restore.”
When wise Kabandha thus had taught
The means to find the dame they sought,
And urged them onward in the quest,
He thus again the prince addressed:
'This path, O Raghu’s son, pursue
Where those fair trees which charm the view,
Extending westward far away,
The glory of their bloom display,
Where their bright leaves Rose-apples show,
And the tall Jak and Mango grow.
Whene’er you will, those trees ascend,
Or the long branches shake and bend.
Their savoury fruit like Amrit eat,
Then onward speed with willing feet.
Beyond this shady forest, decked
With flowering trees, your course direct.
Another grove you then will find
With every joy to take the mind,
Like Nandan with its charms displayed,
Or Northern Kuru’s blissful shade;
Where trees distil their balmy juice.
And fruit through all the year produce;
Where shades with seasons ever fair
With Chaitraratha may compare:
Where trees whose sprays with fruit are bowed
Rise like a mountain or a cloud.
There, when you list, from time to time,
The loaded trees may Lakshman climb,
Or from the shaken boughs supply
Sweet fruit that may with Amrit vie.
The onward path pursuing still
From wood to wood, from hill to hill,
Your happy eyes at length will rest
On Pampá’s lotus-covered breast.
Her banks with gentle slope descend,
Nor stones nor weed the eyes offend,
And o’er smooth beds of silver sand
Lotus and lily blooms expand.
There swans and ducks and curlews play,
And keen-eyed ospreys watch their prey,
And from the limpid waves are heard
Glad notes of many a water-bird.
Untaught a deadly foe to fear
They fly not when a man is near,
And fat as balls of butter they
Will, when you list, your hunger stay.
Then Lakshman with his shafts will take
The fish that swim the brook and lake,
Remove each bone and scale and fin,
Or strip away the speckled skin,
And then on iron skewers broil
For thy repast the savoury spoil.
Thou on a heap of flowers shalt rest
And eat the meal his hands have dressed
There shalt thou lie on Pampá’s brink.
And Lakshman’s hand shall give thee drink,
Filling a lotus leaf with cool
Pure water from the crystal pool,
To which the opening blooms hare lent
The riches of divinest scent.
Beside thee at the close of day
Will Lakshman through the woodland stray,
And show thee where the monkeys sleep
In caves beneath the mountain steep.
Lurd-voiced as bulls they forth will burst
And seek the flood, oppressed by thirst;
Then rest a while, their wants supplied,
Their well-fed bands on Pampá’s side.
Thou roving there at eve shalt see
Rich clusters hang on shrub and tree,
And Pampá flushed with roseate glow,
And at the view forget thy woe.
There shalt thou mark with strange delight
Each loveliest flower that blooms by night,
While lily buds that shrink from day
Their tender loveliness display.
In that far wild no hand but thine
Those peerless flowers in wreaths shall twine:
Immortal in their changeless pride,
Ne’er fade those blooms and ne’er are dried.
There erst on holy thoughts intent
Their days Matanga’s pupils spent.
Once for their master food they sought,
And store of fruit and berries brought.
Then as they laboured through the dell
From limb and brow the heat-drops fell:
Thence sprang and bloomed those wondrous trees:
Such holy power have devotees.
Thus, from the hermits’ heat-drops sprung,
Their growth is ever fresh and young.
There S’avarí is dwelling yet,
Who served each vanished anchoret.
[ p. 316 ]
Beneath the shade of holy boughs
That ancient votaress keeps her vows.
Her happy eyes on thee will fall,
O godlike prince, adored by all,
And she, whose life is pure from sin,
A blissful seat in heaven will win.
But cross, O son of Raghu, o’er,
And stand on Pampa’s western shore.
A tranquil hermitage that lies
Deep in the woods will meet thine eyes.
No wandering elephants invade
The stillness of that holy shade,
But checked by saint Matanga’s power
They spare each consecrated bower.
Through many an age those trees have stood
World-famous as Matanga’s wood
Still, Raghu’s son, pursue thy way:
Through shades where birds are vocal stray,
Fair as the blessed wood where rove
Immortal Gods, or Nandan’s grove.
Near Pampa eastward, full in sight,
Stands Rishyamuka’s wood-crowned height.
‘Tis hard to climb that towering steep
Where serpents unmolested sleep.
The free and bounteous, formed of old
By Brahma, of superior mould,
Who sink when day is done to rest
Reclining on that mountain crest,
What wealth or joy in dreams they view
Awaking find the vision true.
But if a villain stained with crime
That holy hill presume to climb,
The giants in their fury sweep
From the hill top the wretch asleep.
There loud and long is heard the loar
Of elephants on Pampa’s shore.
Who near Matanga’s dwelling stray
And in those waters bathe and play.
A while they revel by the flood,
Their temples stained with streams like blood.
Then wander far away dispersed,
Dark as huge clouds before they burst.
But ere they part they drink their fill
Of bright pure water from the rill.
Delightful to the touch, where meet
Scents of ail flowers divinely sweet,
Then speeding from the river side
Deep in the sheltering thicket hide.
Then bears and tigers shalt thou view
Whose soft skins show the sapphire’s hue,
And silvan deer that wander, nigh
Shall harmless from thy presence fly.
High in that mountains wooded side
Is a fair cavern deep and wide,
Yet hard to enter: piles of rock
The portals-of the cavern block.’ [3]
By the eastern door a pool
Gleams with broad waters fresh and cool,
Where stores of roots and fruit abound,
And thick trees shade the grassy ground.
This mountain cave the virtuous-souled
Sugríva, and his Vánars hold,
And oft the mighty chieftain seeks
The summits of those towering peaks,’
Thus spake Kabandha. high in air
His counsel to the royal pair,
Still on his neck that wreath he bore,
And radiance like the sun’s he wore,
Their eyes the princely brothers raised
And on that blissful being gazed:
‘Behold, we go: no more delay;
Begin,’ they cried,‘thy heavenward way.’
‘Depart,’ Kabandha’s voice replied,
‘Pursue your search, and bliss betide.’
Thus to the happy chiefs he said,
Then on his heavenward journey sped:
Thus once again Kahandha won
A shape that glittered like the sun
Without a spot or stain.
Thus bade he Ráma from the air
To great Sugríva’s side repair
His friendly love to gain.
Thus counselled by their friendly guide
On through the wood the princes hied
Pursuing still the eastern road
To Pampa which Kabandha showed,
Where trees that on the mountains grew
With fruit like honey charmed the view
They rested weary for the night
Upon a mountain’s wooded height,
Then onward with the dawn they hied
And stood, on Pampa’s western side.
Where S’avan’s fair home they viewed
Deep in that shady solitude.
The princes reached the holy ground
Where noble trees stood thick around,
And joying in the lovely view
Near to the aged votress drew.
To meet the sons of Raghu came,
With hands upraised, the pious dame,
And bending low with reverence meet
Welcomed them both and pressed theif feet,
Then water, as beseems, she gave,
Their lips to cool, their feet to lave.
To that pure saint who never broke
One law of duty Ráma—spoke:
'I trust no cares invade thy peace,
While holy works and zeal increase;
That thou content with scanty food
All touch of ire hast long subdued;
That all thy vows are well maintained;
[ p. 317 ]
While peace of mind is surely gained:
That reverence of the saints who taught
The faithful heart due fruit has brought.’
The aged votaress pure of taint,
Revered by every perfect saint,
Rose to her feet by Ráma’s side
And thus in gentle tones replied:
‘My penance’ meed this day I see
Complete, my lord, in meeting thee.
This day the fruit of birth I gain,
Nor have I served the saints in vain,
I reap rich fruits of toil and vow,
And heaven itself awaits me now,
When I, O chief of men, have done
Honour to thee the godlike one.
I feel, great lord, thy gentle eye
My earthly spirit purify,
And I, brave tamer of thy foes,
Shall through thy grace in bliss repose.
Thy feet by Chitrakáta strayed
When those great saints whom I obeyed,
In dazzling chariots bright of hue,
Hence to their heavenly mansions flew.
As the high saints were borne away
I heard their holy voices say:
‘In this pure grove, O devotee,
Prince Ráma soon will visit thee.
When he and Lakshman seek this shade,
Be to thy guests all honour paid.
Him shalt thou see, and pass away
To those blest worlds which ne’er decay.’
To me, O mighty chief, the best
Of lofty saints these words addressed.
Laid up within my dwelling lie
Fruits of each sort which woods supply,—
Food culled for thee in endless store
From every tree on Pampá’s shore.’
Thus to her virtuous guest she sued
And he, with heavenly lore endued,
Words such as these in turn addressed
To her with equal knowledge blest:
‘Danu himself the power has told
Of thy great masters lofty-souled.
Now if thou will, mine eyes would fain
Assurance of their glories gain.’
She heard the prince his wish declare:
Then rose she, and the royal pair
Of brothers through the wood she led
That round her holy dwelling spread.
‘Behold Matanga’s wood’ she cried,
‘A grove made famous far and wide,
Dark as thick clouds and tilled with herds
Of wandering deer, and joyous birds.
In this pure spot each reverend sire
With offerings fed the holy fire.
See here the western altar stands
Where daily with their trembling hands
The aged saints, so long obeyed
By me, their gifts of blossoms laid.
The holy power, O Raghu’s son,
By their ascetic virtue won,
Still keeps their well-loved altar bright.
Filling the air with beams of light.
And those seven neighbouring lakes behold
Which, when the saints infirm and old,
Worn out by fasts, no longer sought,
Moved hither drawn by power of thought.
Look, Ráma, where the devotees
Hung their bark mantles on the trees.
Fresh from the bath: those garments wet
Through many a day are dripping yet.
See, through those aged hermits’ power
The tender spray, this bright-hued flower
With which the saints their worship paid,
Fresh to this hour nor change nor fade.
Here thou hast seen each lawn and dell,
And heard the tale I had to tell:
Permit thy servant, lord, I pray,
To cast this mortal shell away,
For I would dwell, this life resigned,
With those great saints of lofty mind,
Whom I within this holy shade
With reverential care obeyed.’
When Ráma and his brother heard
The pious prayer the dame preferred,
Filled full of transport and amazed
They marvelled as her words they praised.
Then Ráma to the votaress said
Whose holy vows were perfected
'Go, lady, where thou fain wouldst be,
O thou who well hast honoured me.’
Her locks in hermit fashion tied,
Clad in hark coat and black deer-hide,
When Ráma gave consent, the dame
Resigned her body to the flame.
Then like the fire that burns and glows.
To heaven the sainted lady rose,
In all her heavenly garments dressed,
Immortal wreaths on neck and breast,
Bright with celestial gems she shone
Most beautiful to look upon,
And like the flame of lightning sent
A glory through the firmament.
That holy sphere the dame attained,
By depth of contemplation gained,
Where roam high saints with spirits pure
In bliss that shall for aye endure.
When S’avarí had sought the skies
And gained her splendid virtue’s prize,
Ráma with Lakshman stayed to brood
O’er the strange scenes their eyes had viewed.
His mind upon those saints was bent,
For power and might preeminent
And he to musing Lakshman spoke
The thoughts that in his bosom woke:
[ p. 318 ]
‘Mine eyes this wondrous home have viewed
Of those great saints with souls subdued,
Where peaceful tigers dwell and birds,
And deer abound in heedless herds.
Our feet upon the banks have stood
Of those seven lakes within the wood,
Where we have duly dipped, and paid
Libations to each royal shade.
Forgotten now are thoughts of ill
And joyful hopes my bosom fill.
Again my heart is light and gay
And grief and care have passed away.
Come, brother, let us hasten where
Bright Pampá’s flood is fresh and fair,
And towering in their beauty near
Mount Rishyamúka’s heights appear,
When, offspring of the Lord of Light,
Still fearing Báli’s conquering might,
With four brave chiefs of Vánar race
Sugríva makes his dwelling-place.
I long with eager heart to find
That leader of the Vánar kind,
For on that chief my hopes depend
That this our quest have prosperous end.’
Thus Ráma spoke, in battle tried,
And thus Sumitrá’s son replied:
‘Come, brother, come, and speed away:
My spirit brooks no more delay.’
Thus spake Sumitrá’s son, and then
Forth from the grove the king of men
With his dear brother by his side
To Pampá’s lucid waters hied.
He gazed upon the winds where grew
Trees rich in flowers of every hue.
From brake and dell on every side
The curlew and the peacock cried,
And flocks of screaming parrots made
Shrill music in the bloomy shade.
His eager eyes, as on he went,
On many a pool and tree were bent.
Inflamed with love he journeyed on
Till a fair flood before him shone.
He stood upon the water’s side
Which streams from distant hills supplied
Mataranga’s * name that water bore:
There bathed he from the shelving shore.
Then, each on earnest thoughts intent,
Still farther on their way they went.
But Ráma’s heart once more gave way
Beneath his grief and wild dismay.
Before him lay the noble flood
Adorned with many a lotus bud.
On its fair banks As’okas glowed,
And all bright trees their blossoms showed
Green banks that silver waves confined
With lovely groves—were ringed and lined
The crystal waters in their flow
Showed level sands that gleamed below.
There glittering fish and tortoise played,
And bending trees gave pleasant shade.
There creepers on the branches hung
With lover-like embraces clung,
There gay Gandharvas loved to meet,
And Kinnar sought the calm retreat.
There wandering Vakshas* found delight,
Snake gods and rovers of the night.
Cool were the pleasant waters, gay
Each tree with creeper, flower, and spray.
There flushed the lotus darkly red,
Here their white glory lilies spread,
Here sweet buds showed their tints of blue:
So carpets gleam with many a hue.
A grove of Mangoes blossomed nigh,
Echoing with the peacock’s cry.
When Ráma by his brother’s side
The lovely flood of Pampá eyed,
Decked like a beauty, fair to see
With every charm of flower and tree,
His mighty heart with woe was rent
And thus he spoke in wild lament
'Here, Lakshman, on this beauteous shore,
Stands, dyed with tints of many an ore,
The mountain Rishyamúka bright
With flowery trees that crown each height.
Sprung from the chief who, famed of yore,
The name of Rikshnrajas bore,
Sugríva, chieftain strong and dread,
Dwells on that mountain’s towering head.
Go to him, best of men, and seek
That prince of Vánars on the peak,
I cannot longer brook my pain,
Or, Sítá lost, my life retain.’
Thus by the pangs of love distressed,
His thoughts on Sítá bent,
His faithful brother he addressed,
And cried in wild lament.
He reached the lovely ground that lay
On Pampá’s wooded side,
And told in anguish and dismay,
The grief he could not hide.
With listless footsteps faint and slow
His way the chief pursued,
Till Pampá with her glorious show
Of flowering woods he viewed.
Through shades were every bird was found
The prince with Lakshman passed,
And Pampá with her groves around
Burst on his eyes, at last.