[ p. 394 ]
Thus Rávan’s foe resolved to trace
The captive to her hiding-place
Through airy pathways overhead
Which heavenly minstrels visited.
With straining nerve aud eager brows,
Like some strong husband of the cows,
In ready might he stood prepared
For the bold task his soul has dared.
O’er gem-like grass that flashed and glowed
The Vánar like a lion strode.
Roused by the thunder of his tread,
The beasts to shady coverts fled.
Tall trees he crushed or hurled aside,
And every bird was terrified.
Around him loveliest lilies grew,
Pale pink, and red, and white, and blue,
And tints of many a metal lent
The light of varied ornament.
Gandharvas, changing forms at will.
And Yakshas roamed the lovely hill,
Aud countless Serpent-Gods were seen
Where flowers and grass were fresh and green.
As some resplendent serpent takes
His pastime in the best of lakes,
So on the mountain’s woody height
The Vánar wandered with delight.
Then, standing on tne flowery sod,
He paid his vows to saint and God.
Swayambhu [1] and the Sun he prayed,
And the swift Wind to lend him aid,
And Indra, sovereign of the skies,
To bless his hardy enterprise.
Then once again the chief addressed
The Vánars from tke mountain crest:
‘Swift as a shaft from Ráma’s bow
To Rávan’s city will I go,
And if she be not there will fly
And seek the lady in the sky;
Or, if in heaven she be not found,
Will hither bring the giant bound.’
He ceased; and mustering his might
Sprang downward from the mountain height,
While, shattered by each mighty limb,
The trees unrooted followed him.
The shadow on the ocean cast
By his vast form, as on he passed,
Flew like a ship before the gale
When the strong breeze has tilled the sail,
And where his course the Vánar held
The sea beneath him raged and swelled.
Then Gods and all the heavenly train
Poured flowerets down in gentle rain;
Their voices glad Gandharvas raised,
And saints in heaven the Vánar praised.
Fain would the Sea his succour lend
And Raghu’s noble son befriend.
He, moved by zeal for Ráma’s sake,
The hill Maináka [2] thus bespake:
‘O strong Maináka, heavens decree
In days of old appointed thee
To be the Asurs bar, and keep
The rebels in the lowest deep.
Thou guardest those whom heaven has cursed
Lest from their prison-house they burst,
And standest by the gates of hell
Their limitary* sentinel.
To thee is given the power to spread
Or spring above thy watery bed.
Now, best of noble mountains, rise
And do the thing that I advise,
E’en now above thy buried crest
Flies mighty Hanumán, the best
Of Van*sis, moved for Ráma’s sake
A wonderous deed to undertake.
Lift up thy head that he may stay
And rest him on his weary way.’
He heard, and from his watery abroud,
As bursts the sun from ***** cloud,
Rose swifty. Crowned with plant and tree,
And stood above the foamy* sea. [3]
There with his lofty peaks apraised
Bright as a hundred suns he blazed,
And crest and crag of burnished gold
Flashed on the flood that round him rolled,*
[ p. 395 ]
The Vánar thought the mountain rose
A hostile bar to interpose,
And, like a wind-swept cloud, o’erthrew
The glittering mountain as he flew.
Then from the falling hill rang out
A warning voice and joyful shout.
Again he raised him high in air
To meet the flying Vánar there,
And standing on his topmost peak
In human form began to speak: [4]
‘Best of the Vánars’ noblest line,
A mighty task, O chief, is thine.
Here for a while, I pray thee, light
And rest upon the breezy height.
A prince of Raghu’s line was he
Who gave his glory to the Sea, [5]
Who now to Rama’s envoy shows
High honour for the debt he owes.
He bade me lift my buried head
Uprising from my watery bed,
And woo the Vanar chief to rest
A moment on my glittering crest,
Refresh thy weary limbs, and eat
My mountain fruits for they are sweet.
I too, O chieftain, know thee well;-
Three worlds thy famous virtues tell;
And none, I ween, with thee may vie
Who spring impetuous through the sky.
To every guest, though mean and low.
The wise respect and honour show;
And how shall I neglect thee, how
Slight the great guest so near me now?
Son of the Wind,'tis thine to share
The might of him who shakes the air;
And,—for he loves his offspring,—he
Is honoured when I honour thee.
Of yore, when Krita’s age [6] was new,
The little hills and mountains flew
Where’er they listed, borne on wings
More rapid the feathered king’s. [7]
But mighty terror came on all
The Gods and saints who feared their fall.
And Indra in his anger rent
Their pinions with the bolts he sent.
When in his ruthless fury he
Levelled his flashing bolt at me,
The great-souled Wind inclined to save,
And laid me neath the ocean’s wave.
Thus by the favour of the sire
I kept my cherished wings entire;
And for this deed of kindness done
I honour thee his noble son.
O come, thy weary limbs relieve,
And honour due from me receive.’
‘I may not rest,’ the Vanar cried;
‘I must not stay or turn aside.
Yet pleased am I, thou noblest hill,
And as the deed accept thy will.’
Thus as he spoke he lightly pressed
With his broad hand the mountain’s crest.
Then bounded upward to the height
Of heaven, rejoicing in his might,
And through the fields of boundless blue,
The pathway of his father, flew.
Gods, saints, and heavenly bards beheld
That flight that none had paralleled,
Then to the Nagas’ mother [8] came
And thus addressed the sun-bright dame:
‘See, Hauum’an with venturous leap
Would spring across the mighty deep,-
A Viinar prince, the Wind-God’s seed:
Come, Suras’a, his course impede.
In Rakshas form thy shape disguise,
Terrific, like a hill in size:
Let thy red eyes with fury glow,
And high as heaven thy body grow.
With fearful tusks the chief defy.
That we his power and strength may try.
He will with guile thy hold elude,
Or own thy might, by thee subdued.’
Pleased with the grateful honours paid,
The godlike dame their words obeyed,
Clad in a shape of terror she
Sprang from the middle of the sea,
And, with fierce accents that appalled
All creatures, to the Vanar called:
‘Come, prince of Vanars, doomed to be
My food this day by heaven’s decree.
Such boon from ages long ago
To Brahma’s favouring will I owe.’
She ceased, and Hanuman replied,
By shape and threat unterrified:
‘Brave Rama with his Maithil spouse
Lodged in the shade of Dandak’s boughs.
Thence Ravan king of giants stole
Sita the joy of Rama’s soul.
[ p. 396 ]
By Ráma’s high behest to her
I go a willing messenger;
And never shouldst them hinder one
Who toils for Das’aratha’s son.
First captive Sítá will I see,
And him who sent and waits for me,
Then come and to thy will submit,
Yea, by my truth I promise it.’
‘Nay, hope not thus thy life to save;
Not such the boon that Brahma gave.
Enter my mouth,’ was her reply,
‘Then forward on thy journey hie!’ [9]
‘Stretch, wider stretch thy jaws,’ exclaimed
The Vánar chief, to ire inflamed;
And, as the Rákshas near him drew,
Ten leagues in height his stature grew.
Then straight, her threatening jaws between,
A gulf of twenty leagues was seen.
To fifty leagues he waxed, and still
Her mouth grew wider at her will.
Then smaller than a thumb became,
Shrunk by his power, the Vánar’s frame. [10]
He leaped within, and turning round
Sprang through the portal at a bound.
Then hung in air a moment, while
He thus addressed her with a smile:
‘O Daksha’s child, [11] farewell at last!
For I within thy mouth have passed.
Thou hast the gift of Brahmá’s grace:
I go, the Maithil queen to trace.’
Then, to her former shape restored,
She thus addressed the Vánar lord:
‘Then forward to the task, and may
Success and joy attend thy way!
Go, and the rescued lady bring
In triumph to her lord and king.’
Then hosts of spirits as they gazed
The daring of the Vánar praised.
Through the broad fields of ether, fast
Garud’s royal self, he passed,
The region of the cloud and rain,
Loved by the gay Gandharva train,
Where mid the birds that came and went
Shone Indra’s glorious bow unbent,
And like a host of wandering stars
Flashed the high Gods’ celestial cars.
Fierce Sinhiká [12] who joyed in ill
And changed her form to work her will,
Descried him on his airy way
And marked the Vánar for her prey.
‘This day at length,’ the demon cried,
‘My hunger shall be satisfied,’
And at his passing shadow caught
Delighted with the cheering thought.
The Vánar felt the power that stayed
And held him as she grasped his shade,
Like some tall ship upon the main
That struggles with the wind in vain.
Below, above, his eye he bent
And scanned the sea and firmament.
High from the briny deep upreared
The monster’s hideous form appeared,
‘Sugríva’s tale,’ he cried,'is true:
This is the demon dire to view
Of whom the Vánar monarch told,
Whose grasp a passing shade can hold.’
Then, as a cloud in rain-time grows.
His form, dilating, swelled and rose.
Wide as the space from heaven to hell
Her jaws she opened with a yell,
And rushed upon her fancied prey
With cloud-like roar to seize and slay.
The Vánar swift as thought compressed
His borrowed bulk of limb and chest,
And stood with one quick bound inside
The monstrous mouth she opened wide.
Hid like the moon when Ráhu [13] draws
The orb within his ravening jaws.
Within that ample cavern pent
The demon’s form he tore and rent,
And, from the mangled carcass freed,
Came forth again with thought-like speed. [14]
[ p. 397 ]
Thus with his skill the fiend he slew,
Then to his wonted stature grew.
The spirits saw the demon die.
And hailed the Vánar from the sky:
‘Well hast thou fought a wondrous fight
Nor spared the fiend’s terrific might,
On, on! perform the blameless deed,
And in thine every wish succeed.
Ne’re can they fail in whom combine
Such valour; thought, and skill as thine.’
Pleased with their praises as they sang,
Again through fields of air he sprang,
And now, his travail wellnigh done,
The distint shore was almost won,
Before him on the margent stood
In long dark line a waving wood,
And the fair island, bright and green
With flowers and trees, was clearly seen,
And every babbling brook that gave
Her lord the sea a tribute wave.
He lighted down on Lamba’s peak
Which tinted metals stain and streak,
And looked where Lanká’s splendid town
Shone on the mountain like a crown.
The glorious sight a while he viewed,
Then to the town his way pursued.
Around the Vanar as he went
Breathed from the wood delicious scent,
And the soft grass beneath his feet
With gem-like flowers was bright and sweet.
Still as the Vanar nearer drew
More clearly rose the town to view
The palm her fan-like leaves displayed,
Priyálas [15] lent their pleasant shade,
And mid the lower greenery far
Conspicuous rose the Kovidár [16].
A thousand trees mid flowers that glowed
Hung down their fruit’s delicious load [17],
And in their crests that rocked and swayed
Sweet birds delightful music made.
And there were pleasant pools whereon
The glories of the lotus shone;
And gleams of sparkling fountains, stirred
By many a joyous water-bird.
Around, in lovely gardens grew
Blooms sweet of scent and bright of hue,
And Lanká, seat of Rávan’s sway,
Before the wondering Vánar lay:
With stately domes and turrets tall,
Encircled by a golden wall,
And moats whose waters were aglow
With lily blossoms bright below:
For Sitá’s sake defended well
With bolt and bar and sentinel,
And Rakshases who roamed in bands
With ready bows in eager hands.
He saw the stately mansions rise
Like pale-hued clouds in autumn skies;
Where noble streets were broad and bright,
And banners waved on every height.
Her gates were glorious to behold
Rich with the shine of burnished gold:
A lovely city planned and decked
By heaven’s creative arhitect [18],
Fairest of earthly cities meet
To be the Gods’ celestial seat.
The Vánar by the northern gate
Thus in his heart began debate
‘Our mightiest host would strive in vain
To take this city on the main:
A city that may well defy
The chosen warriors of the sky;
A city never to be won
E’en by the arm of Raghu’s son.
Here is no hope by guile to win
The hostile hearts of those within.
‘Twere vain to war, or bribe, or sow
Dissension mid the Vánar foe.
But now my search must I pursue
Until the Maithil queen I view:
And, when I find the captive dame,
Make victory mine only aim.
But, if I wear my present shape,
How shall I enter and escape
The Rákshas troops, their guards and spies,
And sleepless watch of cruel eyes?
The fiends of giant race who hold
This mighty town are strong and bold;
And I must labour to elude
The fiercely watchful multitude.
I in a shape to mock their sight
Must steal within the town by night,
Blind with my art the demons’ eyes,
And thus achieve my enterprise.
How may I see, myself unseen
Of the fierce king, the captive queen.
And meet her in some lonely place,
With none beside her, face to face?’
When the bright sun had left the skies
The Vánar dwarfed his mighty size,
[ p. 398 ]
And, in the straitest bounds restrained,
The bigness of a cat retained. 1
Then, when the moon’s soft light was spread,
Within the city’s walls he sped.
There from the circling rampart’s height
He gazed upon the wondrous sight;
Broad gates with burnished gold displayed,
And courts with turkises inlaid;
With gleaming silver, gems, and rows
Of crystal stairs and porticoes.
In semblance of a Rakshas dame
The city’s guardian Goddess came,—
For she with glances sure and keen
The entrance of a foe had seen,—
And thus with fury in her eye
Addressed him with an angry cry:
‘Who art thou? what has led thee, say,
Within these walls to find thy way?
Thou mayst not enter here in spite
Of Ravan and his warriors’ might.
‘And who art thou?’ the Vanar cried,
By form and frown unterrified,
‘Why hast thou met me by the gate,
And chid me thus infuriate?’
He ceased: andd Lanka made reply:
‘The guardian of the town am I,
Who watch for ever to fulfil
My lord the Rakshas monarch’s will.
But thou shalt fall this hour, and deep
Shall be thy never-ending sleep.
Again he spake:'In spite of thee
This golden city will I see.
Her gates and towers, and all the pride
Of street and square from side to side,
And freely wander where I please
Amid her groves of flowering trees;
On all her beauties sate mine eye.
Then, as I came, will homeward hie.’
Swift with an angry roar she smote
With her huge hand the Vanar’s throat.
The smitten Vanar, rage-impelled,
With fist upraised the monster felled:
But quick repented, stirred with shame
And pity for a vanquished dame,
When with her senses troubled, weak
With terror, thus she strove to speak:
‘O spare me thou whose arm is strong:
O spare me, and forgive the wrong.
The brave that law will ne’er transgress
That spares a woman’s helplessness.
Hear, best of Vanars, brave and bold,
What Brahma’s self of yore foretold;
‘Beware,’ he said, ‘the fatal hour
When tbou shalt own a Vanar’s power.
Then is the giants’ day of fear,
For terror and defeat are near.’
Now, Vanar chief, o’ercome by thee,
I own the truth of heaven’s decree.
For Sita’s sake will ruin fall
On Ravan, and his town, and all.’
The guardian goddess thus subdued.
The Vanar chief his way pursued,
And reached the broad imperial street
Where fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet.
The city seemed a fairer sky
Where cloud-like houses rose on high,
Whence the soft sound of tabors came
Through many a latticed window frame,
And ever and anon rang out
The merry laugh and joyous shout.
From house to house the Vanar went
And marked each varied ornament,
Where leaves aud blossoms deftly strung
About the crystal columns hung.
Then soft and full and sweet and clear
The song of women charmed his ear,
And, blending with their dulcet tones,
Their anklets’ chime and tinkling zones.
He heard the Rakshas minstrel sing
The praises of their matchless king;
And softly through the evening air
Came murmurings of text and prayer,
Here moved a priest with tonsured head,
And there an eager envoy sped,
Mid crowds with hair in matted twine
Clothed in the skins of deer and kine,—
Whose only arms, which none might blame,
Were blades of grass and holy flame [19]
There savage warriors roamed in bands
With clubs and maces in their bauds,
Some dwarfish forms, some huge of size.
With single ears and single eyes.
Some shone in glittering mail arrayed
With bow and mace and flashing blade;
Fiends of all shapes and every hue,
Some fierce and foul, some fair to view.
[ p. 399 ]
He saw the grisly legions wait
In strictest watch at Rávan’s gate,
Whose palace on the mountain crest
Rose proudly towering o’er the rest,
Fenced with high ramparts from the foe,
And lotus-covered moats below.
But Hanuman, unhindered, found
Quick passage through the guarded bound,
Mid elephants of noblest breed,
And gilded car and neighing steed.
The palace gates were guarded well
By many a Rákshas sentinel,
And far within, concealed from view,
Were dames and female retinue
For charm of form and face renowned;
Whose tinkling armlets made a sound,
Clashed by the wearers in their glee,
Like music of a distant sea.
The hall beyond the palace gate,
Rich with each badge of royal state,
Where lines of noble courtiers stood,
Showed like a lion-guarded wood.
There the wild music rose and fell
Of drum and tabor and of shell,
Through chambers at each holy tide
By solemn worship sanctified.
Through grove and garden, undismayed,
From house to house the Vánar strayed,
And still his wondering glances bent
On terrace, dome, and battlement:
Then with a light and rapid tread
Prahasta’s 1b home he visited,
And Kumbhakarna’s 2b courtyard where
A cloudy pile rose high in air;
And, wandering o’er the hill, explored
The garden of each Rákshas lord.
Each court and grove he wandered through,
Then nigh to Rávan’s palace drew.
She-demons watched it foul of face,
Eace* armed with sword and spear and mace,
And warrior fiends of every hue,
A strange and fearful retinue.
There elephants in many a row,
The terror of the stricken foe.
Huge Airávat, 3b deftly trained
In battle-fields, stood ready chained.
Fair litters on the ground were set
Adorned with gems and golden net.
Gay bloomy creepers clothed the walls;
Green bowers were there and picture halls,
And chambers made for soft delight.
Broad banners waved on every height.
And from the roof like Mandar’s hill
The peacock’s cry came loud and shrill. 4b
He passed within the walls and gazed
On gems and gold that round him blazed,
And many a latticed window bright
With turkis and with lazulite.
[ p. 400 ]
Through porch and ante-rooms he passed
Each richer, fairer thau the last;
And spacious halls were lances lay.
And bows and shells, in fair array:
A glorious house that matched in show
All Paradise displayed below.
Upon the polished floor were spread
Fresh buds and blossoms white and red,
And women shone, a lovely crowd,
As lightning flashes through a cloud:
A palace splendid as the sky
Which moon and planets glorify:
Like earth whose towering hills unfold
Their zones and streaks of glittering gold;
Where waving on the mountain brows
The tall trees bend their laden boughs,
And every bough and tender spray
With a bright load of bloom is gay,
And every flower the breeze has bent
Fills all the region with its scent.
Near the tall palace pale of hue
Shone lovely lakes where lilies blew,
And lotuses with flower and bud
Gleamed on the bosom of the flood.
There shone with gems that flashed afar
The marvel of the Flower-named 1 car,
Mid wondrous dwellings still confessed
Supreme and nobler than the rest.
Thereon with wondrous art designed
Were turkis birds of varied kind.
And many a sculptured serpent rolled
His twisted coil in burnished gold.
Aud steeds were there of noblest form
With flying feet as fleet as storm:
And elephants with deftest skill
Stood sculptured by a silver rill,
Each bearing on his trunk a wreath
Of lilies from the flood beneath.
There Lakshmi, 2 beauty’s heavenly queen,
Wrought by the artist’s skill, was seen
Beside a flower-clad pool to stand
Holding a lotus in her hand.
There gleamed the car with wealth untold
Of precious gems and burnished gold;
Nor could the Wind-God’s son withdraw
His rapt gaze from the sight he saw,
By Vis’vakarmá’s 1b self proclaimed
The noblest work his hand had framed.
Uplifted in the air it glowed
Bright as the sun’s diurnal road.
The eye might scan the wondrous frame
And vainly seek one spot to blame,
So fine was every part and fair
With gems inlaid with lavish care.
No precious stones so rich adorn
The cars wherein the Gods are borne,
Prize of the all-resistless might
That sprang from pain and penance rite, 2b
Obedient to the master’s will
It moved o’er wood and towering hill,
A glorious marvel well designed
By Vis’vakarmá’s artist mind,
Adorned with every fair device
That decks the cars of Paradise.
Swift moving as the master chose
It flew through air or sank or rose, 3b
And in its fleetness left behind
The fury of the rushing wind:
Meet mansion for the good and great,
The holy, wise, and fortunate.
Throughout the chariot’s vast extent
Were chambers wide and excellent,
All pure and lovely to the eyes
As moonlight shed from cloudless skies.
Fierce goblins, rovers of the night
Who cleft the clouds with swiftest flight
In countless hosts that chariot drew,
With earrings clashing as they flew.
Where stately mansions rose around,
A palace fairer still he found,
Whose royal height and splendour showed
Where Ravan’s self, the king, abode,
A chosen band with bow and sword
Guarded the palace of their lord,
Where Ráksha’s dames of noble race
And many a princess fair of face
Whom Rávan’s arm had torn away
From vanquished kings in slumber lay.
[ p. 401 ]
There jewelled arches high o’erhead
An ever-changing lustre shed
From ruby, pearl, and every gem
On golden pillars under them.
Delicious came the tempered air
That breathed a heavenly summer there,
Stealing through bloomy trees that bore
Each pleasant fruit in endless store.
No check was there from jealous guard,
No door was fast, no portal barred;
Only a sweet air breathed to meet
The stranger, as a host should greet
A wanderer of his kith and kin
And woo his weary steps within.
He stood within a spacious hall
With fretted roof and painted wall,
The giant Rávan’s boast and pride,
Loved even as a lovely bride.
‘Twere long to tell each marvel there,
The crystal floor, the jewelled stair,
The gold, the silver, and the shine
Of chrysolite and almandine.
There breathed the fairest blooms of spring;
There flashed the proud swan’s silver wing,
The splendour of whose feathers broke
Through fragrant wreaths of aloe smoke.
‘Tis lndra’s heaven,’ the Vánar cried
Gazing in joy from side to side;
‘The home of all the Gods is this,
The mansion of eternal bliss.’
There were the softest carpets spread,
Delightful to the sight and tread,
Where many a lovely woman lay
O’ercome by sleep, fatigued with play.
The wine no longer cheered the feast,
The sound of revelry had ceased.
The tinkling feet no longer stirred,
No chiming of a zone was heard.
So when each bird has sought her nest
And swans are mute and wild bees rest,
Sleep the fair lilies on the lake
Till the sun’s kiss shall bid them wake.
Like the calm field of winter’s sky
Which stars unnumbered glorify,
So shone and glowed the sumptuous room
With living stars that chased the gloom.
‘These are the stars,’ the chieftain cried,
‘In autumn nights that earth-ward glide,
In brighter forms to reappear
And shine in matchless lustre here.’
With wondering eyes a while he viewed
Each graceful form and attitude.
One lady’s head was backward thrown,
Bare was her arm and loose her zone.
The garland that her brow had graced
Hung closely round another’s waist.
Here gleamed two little feet all bare
Of anklets that had sparkled there,
Here lay a queenly dame at rest
In all her glorious garments dressed,
There slept another whose small hand
Had loosened every tie and band,
In careless grace another lay
Wide gems and jewels cast away,
Like a young creeper when the tread
Of the wild elephant has spread
Confusion and destruction round,
And cast it flowerless to the ground.
Here lay a slumberer still as death,
Save only that her balmy breath
Raised ever and anon the lace
that floated o’er her sleeping face.
There, sunk in sleep, an amorous maid
Her sweet head on a mirror laid,
Like a fair lily bending till
Her petals rest upon the rill.
Another black-eyed damsel pressed
Her lute upon her heaving breast,
As though her loving arms were twined
Round him for whom her bosom pined.
Another pretty sleeper round
A silver vase her arm’s had wound
That seemed, so fresh and fair and young
A wreath of flowers that o’er it hung.
In sweet disorder lay a throng
Weary of dance and play and song,
Where heedless girls had sunk to rest
One pillowed on anothers breast
Her tender cheek half seen beneath
Bed roses of the falling wreath,
The while her long soft hair concealed
The beauties that her friend revealed.
With limbs at random interlaced
Bound arm and leg and throat and waist,
Wreath of women lay asleep
Blossoms in a careless heap.
Apart a dais of crystal rose
With couches spread for soft repose.
Adorned with gold and gems of price
Meet for the halls of Paradise.
A canopy was o’er them spread
Pale as the light the moon beams shed,
And female figures, [21] deftly planned,
The faces of the sleepers fanned,
There on a splendid couch, asleep
On softest skins of deer and sheep.
Dark as a cloud that dims the day
The monarch of the giants lay,
Perfumed with sandal’s precious scent
And gay with golden ornament.
[ p. 402 ]
His fiery eyes in slumber closed,
In glittering robes the king reposed
Like Mandar’s mighty hill asleep
With flowery trees that clothe his steep.
Near and more near the Vánar
The monarch of the fiends to view,
And saw the giant stretched supine
Fatigued with play and drunk with wine.
While, shaking all the monstrous frame,
His breath like hissing serpents’ came.
With gold and glittering bracelets gay
His mighty arms extended lay
Huge as the towering shafts that bear
The flag of Indra high in air.
Scars by Airávat’s impressed
Showed red upon his shaggy breast.
And on his shoulders were displayed
The dints the thunder-bolt had made. 1
The spouses of the giant king
Around their lord were slumbering,
And, gay with sparkling earrings, shone
Fair as the moon to look upon.
There by her husband’s side was seen
Mandodarífavourite queen,
The beauty of whose youthful face
Beamed a soft glory through the place.
The Vánared the dame more fair
Than all the royal ladies there,
And thought, 'These rarest beauties speak
The matchless dame I come to seek.
Peerless in grace and splendour, she
The Maithil queen must surely be.’
‘At his comma*d the uprooted hiils retired Each to his place, they heard his voice and went Obsequious’
394:2 Brahmá the Self-Existent. ↩︎
394:1b Maináka was the son of Rimálaya* and Mená or Menaka. ↩︎
394:2b Thus Milton makes the hills of heaven self-moving at command: ↩︎
395:1 The spirit of the mountain is separable from the mountain. Himalaya has also been represented as standing in human on one of his own peaks. ↩︎
395:2 Sagar or the Sea is said to have derived its name from Sagar. The story is fully told in Book I, Cantos XLII, XLIII, and XLlV. ↩︎
395:3 Kritu is the first of the four ages of the world, the golden age, also called Satya. ↩︎
395:4 Parvata means a mountain and in the Vedas a cloud. Hence in later mythology the mountain have taken the place of the clouds as the objects of the attacks of Indra the Sun-God. The feathered king is Garuda. ↩︎
395:1b “The children of Surasa were a thousand mighty many-headed serpents, traversing the sky.” WlLSON’S Vishnu Purana, Vol.II. p.73. ↩︎
396:1 She means, says the Commentator, pursue thy journey if thou can. ↩︎
396:2 If Milton’s spirits are allowed the power of infinite self-extension and compression the same must be conceded to Válmíki’s supernatural beings. Given the power as in Milton the result in Válmíki is perfectly consistent. ↩︎
396:3 “Daksha is the son of Brahmá and one of the Prajápatis or divine progenitors. He had sixty daughters, twenty-seven of whom married to Kas’yapa produced, according to one of the Indian cosmogonies, all mundane beings. Does the epithet, Descendant of Daksha, given to Surasá, mean that she is one of those daughters? I think not. This epithet is perhaps an appellation common to all created beings as having sprung from Daksha.” GORRESIO. ↩︎
396:1b Sinhiká is the mother of Ráhu the dragon’s head or ascending node, the chief agent in eclipses. ↩︎
396:2b Ráhu is the demon who causes eclipses by attempting to swallow the sun and moon. ↩︎
396:3b According to De Gubernatis, the author of the very learned, ingenious, and interesting though too fanciful Zoological Mythology. Hanuman here represents the sun entering into and escaping from a cloud. The biblical Jonah, according to him, typifies the same phenomenon. Sádi, p. 395 speaking of sunset, says Yùnas andar-i-dihán-i máhi shud: Jonas was within the fish’s mouth. See ADDITIONAL NOTES. ↩︎
397:1 The Buchanania Latifolia. ↩︎
397:2 The Bauhinia Variegata. ↩︎
397:3 Through the power that Rávan’s stern mortifications had won for him his trees bore flowers and fruit simultaneously. ↩︎
397:1b Vis’vakarmá is the architect of the Gods. ↩︎
398:1b Priests who fought only with the weapons of religion, the sacred grass used like the verbena of the Romans at sacred rites and the consecrated fire to consume the offering of ghee. ↩︎
399:1 I omit Canto V. which corresponds to chapter XI. in Gorresio’s edition. That scholar justly observes: "The eleventh chapter, Description of Evening, is certainly the work of the Rhapsodists and an interpolation of later date. The chapter might be omitted without any injury to the action of the poem, and besides the metre, style, conceits and images differ from the general tenour of the poem; and that continual repetition of the same sounds at the end of each hemistich which is not exactly rime, but assonance, reveals the artificial labour of a more recent age.’ The following sample will probably be enough. I am unable to show the difference of style in a translation:
Fair shone the moon, as if to lend
His cheering light to guide a friend,
And, circled by the starry host,
Looked down upon the wild sea-coast.
The Vánar cheiftain raised his eyes,
And saw him sailing through the skies
Like a bright swan who joys to take
His pastime on a silver lake;
Fair moon that calms the mourner’s pain.
Heaves up the waters of the main,
And o’er the *hie beneath him throws
A tender light of soft repose,
The charm that clings to Mandar’s hill,
Gleams in the sea when winds are still,
And decks the lilly’s opening flower,
Showed in that moon her sweetest power. ↩︎
401:1 Women, says Válmíki. But the commentator says that automatic figures only are meant. Women would have seen Hanumán and given the alarm. ↩︎