To him Mahes’var thus replied:
‘O strong-armed hero, lotus-eyed,
Thou, best of those who love the right,
Hast nobly fought the wondrous fight.
Dispelled by thee the doom that spread
Through trembling earth and heaven is fled.
The worlds exult in light and bliss,
And praise thy name, O chief, for this.
Now peace to Bharat’s heart restore,
And bid Kausalyá weep no more.
Thy face let Queen Kaikeyí see,
Let fond Sumitrá gaze on thee.
The longing of thy friends relieve,
The kingdom of thy sires receive.
Let sons of gentle Sítá born
Ikshváku’s ancient line adorn.
Then from all care and foemen freed
Perform the offering of the steed.
In pious gifts thy wealth expend,
Then to the home of Gods ascend,
Thy sire, this glorious king, behold.
Among the blest in heaven enrolled.
He comes from where the Immortals dwell:
Salute him, for he loves thee well.’
His mandate Raghu’s sons obeyed,
And to their sire obeisance mads,
Where high he stood above the car
In wondrous light that shone afar,
His limbs in radiant garments dressed
Whereon no spot of dust might rest.
When on the son he loved so well
The eyes of Das’aratha fell,
He strained the hero to his breast
And thus with gentle words addressed:
‘No joy to me is heavenly bliss,
For there these eyes my Ráma miss.
Enrolled on high with saint and sage,
Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage.
Kaikeyí’s guile I ne’er forget:
Her cruel words will haunt me yet,
Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam
The forest far from me and home.
Now when I look on each dear face,
And hold you both in fond embrace,
My heart is full of joy to see
The sons I love from danger free.
Now know I what the Gods designed,
And how in Ráma’s form enshrined
The might of Purushottam lay,
The tyrant of the worlds to slay.
Ah, how Kausalyá will rejoice
To hear again her darling’s voice,
And, all thy weary wanderings o’er,
To gaze upon thy face once more.
Ah blest, for ever blest are they
Whose eyes shall see the glorious day
Of thy return in joy at last,
Thy term of toil and exile past.
Ayodhyá’s lord, begin thy reign,
And day by day new glory gain,’
He ceased: and Ráma thus replied:
‘Be not this grace, O sire, denied.
Those hasty words, that curse revoke
Which from thy lips in anger broke:
‘Kaikeyí, be no longer mine:
I cast thee off, both thee and thine.’
O father, let no sorrow fall
On her or hers: thy curse recall.’
‘Yea, she shall live, if so thou wilt,’
The sire replied, ‘absolved from guilt.’
Round Lakshman then his arms he threw,
And moved by love began anew:
‘Great store of merit shall be thine,
And brightly shall thy glory shine;
Secure on earth thy brother’s grace.
And high in heaven shall be thy place.
Thy glorious king obey and fear:
To him the triple world is dear.
God, saint, and sage, by Indra led,
To Ráma bow the reverent head,
Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled,
Their worship or their praise withhold.
Heart of the Gods, supreme is he,
The One who ne’er shall cease to be.’
On Sítá then he looked and smiled;
‘List to my words’ he said, 'dear child,
Let not thy gentle breast retain
One lingering trace of wrath or pain.
When by the fire thy truth be proved,
By love for thee his will was moved.
The furious flame thy faith confessed
Which shrank not from the awful test:
And thou, in every heart enshrined,
Shalt live the best of womankind.’
He ceased: he bade the three adieu,
And home to heaven exulting flew.
Then Indra, he whose fiery stroke
Slew furious Páka, turned and spoke:
‘A glorious day, O chief, is this,
Rich with the fruit of lasting bliss.
Well pleased are we: we love thee well
Now speak, thy secret wishes tell.’
Thus spake the sovereign of the sky,
And this was Ráma’s glad reply:
‘If I have won your grace, incline
To grant this one request of mine.
Restore, O King: the Vánar dead
Whose blood for me was nobly shed.
[ p. 501 ]
To life and strength my friends recall,
And bring them back from Yama’s hall.
When, fresh in might the warriors rise,
Prepare a feast to glad their eyes.
Let fruits of every season glow,
And streams of purest water flow.’
Thus Raghu’s son, great-hearted, prayed,
And Indra thus his answer made:
‘High is the boon thou seekest: none
Should win this grace but Raghu’s son.
Yet, faithful to the word I spake,
I grant the prayer for thy dear sake.
The Vánars whom the giants slew
Their life and vigour shall renew.
Their strength repaired, their gashes healed
Whose torrents dyed the battle field,
The warrior hosts from death shall rise *
Like sleepers when their slumber flies.’
Restored from Yama’s dark domain
The Vánar legions filled the plain,
And, round the royal chief arrayed,
With wondering hearts obeisance paid.
Each God the son of Raghu praised,
And cried as loud his voice he raised:
‘Turn, King, to fair Ayodhyá speed,
And leave thy friends of Vánar breed.
Thy true devoted consort cheer
After long days of woe and fear.
Bharat, thy loyal brother, see,
A hermit now for love of thee.
The tears of Queen Kaus’alyá dry,
And light with joy each stepdame’s eye;
Then consecrated king of men
Make glad each faithful citizen,’
They ceased: and borne on radiant cars
Sought their bright home amid the stars.
Then slept the tamer of his foes
And spent the night in calm repose.
Vibhíshan came when morning broke,
And hailed the royal chief, and spoke:
‘Here wait thee precious oil and scents,
And rich attire and ornaments.
The brimming urns are newly filled,
And women in their duty skilled,
With lotus-eyes, thy call attend,
Assistance at thy bath to lend.’
‘Let others,’ Ráma cried,'desire
These precious scents, this rich attire,
I heed not such delights as these,
For faithful Bharat, ill at ease,
Watching for me is keeping now
Far far away his rigorous vow.
By Bharat’s side I long to stand,
I long to see my fatherland.
Far is Ayodhvá: long, alas,
The dreary road and hard to pass.’
‘One day,’ Vibhíshan cried, 'one day
Shall bear thee o’er that length of way.
Is not the wondrous chariot mine,
Named Pushpak, wrought by hands divine.
The prize which Rávan seized of old
Victorious o’er the God of Gold
This chariot, kept with utmost care,
Will waft thee through the fields of air,
And thou shalt light unwearied down
In fair Ayodhyá’s royal town.
But yet if aught that I have done
Has pleased thee well, O Raghu’s son;
If still thou carest for thy friend,
Some little time in Lanká spend;
There after toil of battle rest
Within my halls an honoured guest.’
Again the son of Raghu spake:
‘Thy life was perilled for my sake.
Thy counsel gave me priceless aid:
All honours have been richly paid.
Scarce can my love refuse, O best
Of giant kind, thy last request.
But still I yearn once more to see
My home and all most dear to me;
Nor can I brook one hour’s delay:
Forgive me, speed me on my way.’
He ceased: the magic car was brought,
Of yore by Vis’vakarmá wrought.
In sunlike sheen it flashed and blazed;
And Raghu’s sons in wonder gazed.
The giant lord the chariot viewed,
And humbly thus his speech renewed:
‘Behold, O King, the car prepared:
Now be thy further will declared.’
He ceased: and Ráma spake once more:
‘These hosts who thronged to Lanká’s shore
Their faith and might have nobly shown,
And set thee on the giants’ throne.
Let pearls and gems and gold repay
The feats of many a desperate day,
That all may go triumphant hence
Proud of their noble recompense.’
Vibhíshan, ready at his call,
With gold and gems enriched them all.
Ihen Ráma clomb the glorious car
That shone like day’s resplendent star.
There in his lap he held his dame
Vailing her eyes in modest shame.
Beside him Lakshman took his stand,
Whose mighty bow still armed his hand,
‘O King Vibhíshan,’ Ráma cried,
‘O Vánar chiefs, so long allied,
[ p. 502 ]
My comrades till the foemen fell,
List, for I speak a long farewell.
The task, in doubt and fear begun,
With your good aid is nobly done.
Leave Lanká’s shore, your steps retrace,
Brave warriors of the Vánar race
Thou, King Sugríva, true, through all,
To friendship’s bond and duty’s call,
Seek far Kishkindha with thy train
And o’er thy realm in glory reign.
Farewell, Vibhíshan, Lanká’s throne
Won by our arms is now thine own,
Thou, mighty lord, hast nought to dread
From heavenly Gods by Indra led.
My last farewell, O King, receive,
For Lanká’s isle this hour I leave.’
Loud rose their cry in answer: 'We,
O Raghu’s son, would go with thee.
With thee delighted would we stray
Where sweet Ayodhyá’s groves are gay,
Then in the joyous synod view
King-making balm thy brows bedew;
Our homage to Kaus’alyá pay,
And hasten on our homeward way.’
Their prayer the son of Raghu heard,
And spoke, his heart with rapture stirred:
‘Sugríva, O my faithful friend,
Vibhíshan and ye chiefs, ascend.
A joy beyond all joys the best
Will fill my overflowing breast,
If girt by you, O noble band,
I seek again my native land.’
With Vánar lords in danger tried
Sugríva sprang to Ráma’s side,
And girt by chiefs of giant kind
Vibhíshan’s step was close behind.
Swift through the air, as Ráma chose,
The wondrous car from earth arose.
And decked with swans and silver wings
Bore through the clouds its freight of kings.
Then Ráma, speeding through the skies,
Bent on the earth his eager eyes:
‘Look, Sítá, see, divinely planned
And built by Vis’vakarmá’s hand,
Lanká the lovely city rest
Enthroned on Mount Trikúta’s crest
Behold those fields, ensanguined yet,
Where Vánar hosts and giants met.
There, vainly screened by charm and spell,
The robber Rávan fought and fell.
There knelt Mandodari [1] and shed
Her tears in floods for Rávan dead.
And every dame who loved him sent
From her sad heart her wild lament.
There gleams the margin of the deep,
Where, worn with toil, we sank to sleep.
Look, love, the unconquered sea behold,
King Varun’s home ordained of old,
Whose boundless waters roar and swell
Rich with their store of pearl and shell.
O see, the morning sun is bright
On fair Hiranyanábha’s [2] height,
Who rose from Ocean’s sheltering breast
That Hanumán might stay and rest.
There stretches, famed for evermore,
The wondrous bridge from shore to shore.
The worlds, to life’s remotest day.
Due reverence to the work shall pay,
Which holier for the laps of time
Shall give release from sin and crime.
Now thither bend, dear love, thine eyes
Where green with groves Kishkindhá lies,
The seat of King Sugríva’s reign,
Where Báli by this hand was slain. [3]
There Ríshyamúka’s hill behold
Bright gleaming with embedded gold.
There too my wandering foot I set,
There King Sugríva first I met.
And, where yon trees their branches wave,
My promise of assistance gave.
There, flushed with lilies, Pampá shines
With banks which greenest foliage lines,
Where melancholy steps I bent
And mourned thee with a mad lament.
There fierce Kabandha, spreading wide
His giant arms, in battle died.
Turn, Sítá, turn thine eyes and see
In Janasthán that glorious tree:
There Rávan, lord of giants slew
Our friend Jatáyas brave and true,
Thy champion in the hopless* strife,
Who gave for thee his noble life.
Now mark that glade amid the trees
Where once we lived as devotees.
See, see our leafy cot between
Those waving boughs of densest green,
Where Rávan seized his prize and stole
My love the darling of my soul.
O, look again: beneath thee gleams
Godávari the best of streams,
Whose lucid waters sweetly glide
By lilies that adorn her side.
There dwelt Agastya, holy sage,
In plantain-sheltered hermitage.
See S’arabhanga’s humble shed
[ p. 503 ]
Which sovereign Indra visited.
See where the gentle hermits dwell
Neath Atri’s rule who loved us well;
Where once thine eyes were blest to see
His sainted dame who talked with thee.
Now rest thine eyes with new delight
On Chitrakúta’s woody height,
See Jumna flashing in the sun
Through groves of brilliant foliage run.
Screened by the shade of spreading boughs
There Bharadvája keeps his vows,
There Gangá, river of the skies,
Bolls the sweet wave that purifies,
There S’ringavera’s towers ascend
Where Guha reigns, mine ancient friend.
I see, I see thy glittering spires,
Ayodhyá, city of my sires.
Bow down, bow down thy head, my sweet,
Our home, our long-lost home to greet.’
But Ráma bade the chariot stay,
And halting in his airy way,
In Bharadvá’s holy shade
His homage to the hermit paid.
‘O saint,’ he cried, 'I yearn to know
My dear Ayodhyá’s weal and woe.
O tell me that the people thrive,
And that the queens are yet alive.’
Joy gleamed in Bhardvája’s eye,
Who gently smiled and made reply:
‘Thy brother, studious of thy will,
Is faithful and obedient still.
In tangled twine he coils his hair:
Thy safe return is all his care.
Before thy shoes he humbly bends,
And to thy house and realm attends.
When first these dreary years began,
When first I saw the banished man,
With Sitá, in his hermit coat,
At this sad heart compassion smote.
My breast with tender pity swelled:
I saw thee from thy home expelled,
Reft of all princely state, forlorn,
A hapless wanderer travel-worn,
Firm in thy purpose to fulfil
Thy duty and thy father’s will.
But boundless is my rapture now:
Triumphant, girt with friends, art thou.
Where’er thy wandering steps have been,
Thy joy and woe mine eyes have seen.
Thy glorious deeds to me art known,
The Bráhmans saved, the foes o’erthrown.
Such power have countless seasons spent
In penance and devotion lent.
Thy virtues, best of chiefs, I know,
And now a boon would fain bestow.
This hospitable gift 1 receive:
Then with the dawn my dwelling leave.’
The bended head of Ráma showed
His reverence for the grace bestowed;
Then for each brave companion’s sake
He sought a further boon and spake:
‘O let that mighty power of thine
The road to fair Ayodhyá line
With trees where fruit of every hue
The Vánars’ eye and taste may woo,
And flowers of every season, sweet
With stores of honeyed juice, may meet,’
The hero ceased: the hermit bent
His reverend head in glad assent;
And swift, as Bharadvája willed,
The prayer of Ráma was fulfilled.
For many a league the lengthening road
Trees thick with fruit and blossom showed
With luscious beauty to entice
The taste like trees of Paradise.
The Vánars passed beneath the shade
Of that delightful colonnade,
Still tasting with unbounded glee
The treasures of each wondrous tree.
But Ráma, when he first looked down
And saw afar Ayodhyá’s town,
Had called Hanumán to his side,
The chief on whom his heart relied,
And said: ‘Brave Vánar, good at need,
Haste onward, to Ayodhyá speed,
And learn, I pray, if all be well
With those who in the palace dwell.
But an thou speedest on thy way
Awhile at S’ringavera stay.
Tell Guha the Nishádas’ lord,
That victor, with my queen restored,
In health and strength with many a friend
Homeward again my steps I bend
Thence by the road that he will show
On to Avodhyá swiftly go.
There with my love my brother greet,
And all our wondrous tale repeat.
Say that victorious in the strife
I come with Lakshman and my wife,
Then mark with keenest eye each trace
Of joy or grief on Bharat’s face.
Be all his gestures closely viewed,
[ p. 504 ]
Each change of look and attitude.
Where breathes the man who will not cling
To all that glorifies a king?
Where beats the heart that can resign
An ancient kingdom, nor repine
To lose a land renowned for breeds
Of elephants and warrior steeds?
If, won by custom day by day,
My brother Bharat thirsts for sway,
Still let him rule the nations, still
The throne of old Ikshváku fill.
Go, mark him well: his feelings learn,
And, ere we yet be near return.’
He ceased: and, garbed in human form,
Forth sped Hanumán swift as storm.
Sublime in air he rose, and through
The region of his father flew.
He saw far far beneath his feet
Where Gangá’s flood and Jumna meet.
Descending from the upper air
He entered S’ringavera, where
King Guha’s heart was well content
To hear the message Ráma sent.
Then, with his mighty strengtn renewed,
The Vánar chief big way pursued,
Válúkiní was far behind,
And Gomatí with forests lined,
And golden fields and pastures gay
With flocks and herds beneath him lay.
Then Nandigráma charmed his eye
Where flowers were bright with every dye,
And trees of lovely foliage made
With meeting boughs delightful shade,
Where women watched in trim array
Their little sons’ and grandsons’ play.
His eager eye on Bharat fell
Who sat before his lonely cell.
In hermit weed, with tangled hair,
Pale, weak, and worn with ceaseless care.
His royal pomp and state resigned
For Ráma still he watched and pined,
Still to his dreary vows adhered,
And royal Ráma’s shoes revered.
Yet still the terror of his arm
Preserved the land from fear and harm.
The Wind-God’s son, in form a man,
Raised reverent hands and thus began:
‘Fond greeting, Prince, I bring to thee,
And Ráma’s self has sent it: he
For whom thy spirit sorrows yet
As for a hapless anchoret
In Dandak wood, in dire distress,
With matted hair and hermit dress.
This sorrow from thy bosom fling,
And hear the tale of joy I bring.
This day thy brother shalt thou meet
Exulting in his foe’s defeat,
Freed from his toil and lengthened vow,
The light of victory on his brow,
With Sítá, Lakshman and his friends
Homeward at last his steps he bends.’
Then joy, too mighty for control,
Rushed in full flood o’er Bharat’s soul;
His reeling sense and strength gave way,
And fainting on the earth he lay,
At length upspringing from the ground,
His arms about Hanumán wound,
With tender tears of rapture sprung,
He dewed the neck to which he clung:
‘Art thou a God or man,’ he cried,
‘Whom love and pity hither guide?
For this a hundred thousand kine,
A hundred villages be thine.
A score of maids of spotless lives
To thee I give to be thy wives,
Of golden hue and bright of face,
Each lovely for her tender grace.’
He ceased a while by joy subdued,
And then his eager speech renewed;
‘In doubt and fear long years have passed
And glorious tidings come at last.
True, true is now the ancient verse
Which men in time of bliss rehearse:
Once only in a hundred years
Great joy to mortal men appears.
But now his woes and triumph tell,
And loss and gain as each befell.’
He ceased: Hanumán mighty-souled
The tale of Ráma’s wanderings told
From that first day on which he stood
In the drear shade of Dandak wood.
He told how fierce Virádha fell;
He told of S’arabhanga’s cell
Where Ráma saw with wondering eyes
Indra descended from the skies.
He told how Súrpanukhi came,
Her soul aglow with amorous flame,
And fled repulsed, with rage and tears,
Reft of her nose and severed ears.
He told how Ráma’s might subdued
The giants’ furious multitude;
How Khara with the troops he led
And Tris’iras and Dúshan bled:
How Ráma, tempted from his cot,
The golden deer pursued and shot,
And Rávan came and stole away
The Maithil queen his hapless prey,
When, as he fought, the dame to save,
His noble life Jatáyus gave:
How Ráma still the the search renewed,
The robber to his hold pursued,
Bridging the sea from shore to shore,
And found his queen to part no more. [4]
[ p. 505 ]
O’erwhelmed with rapture Bharat heard
The tale that all his being stirred,
And, heralding the glad event,
This order to Satrughna sent:
‘Let every shrine with flowers be gay
Let incense burn and music play.
Go forth, go forth to meet your king,
Let tabours sound and minstrels sing,
Let bards swell high the note of praise
Skilled in the lore of ancient days.
Call forth the royal matrons: call
Each noble from the council hall.
Send all we love and honour most,
Send Bráhmans and the warrior host,
A glorious company to bring
In triumph home our lord the king.’
Great rapture filled S’atrughna’s breast,
Obedient to his brother’s hest.
‘Send forth ten thousand men’ he cried,
‘Let brawny arms be stoutly plied,
And, smoothing all with skilful care,
The road for Kosal’s king prepare.
Then o’er the earth let thousands throw
Fresh showers of water cool as snow,
And others strew with garlands gay
With loveliest blooms our monarch’s way.
On tower and temple porch and gate
Let banners wave in royal state.
And be each roof and terrace lined
With blossoms loose and chaplets twined.’
The nobles hasting forth fulfilled
His order as S’atrughna willed.
Sublime on elephants they rode
Whose gilded girths with jewels glowed.
Attended close by thousands more
Gay with the gear and flags they bore.
A thousand chiefs their steeds bestrode,
Their glittering cars a thousand showed.
And countless hosts in rich array
Pursued on foot their eager way.
Veiled from the air with silken screens
In litters rode the widowed queens.
Kausalyá first, acknowledged head
And sovereign of the household, led:
Sumitrá next, and after, dames
Of lower rank and humbler names.
Then compassed by a white-robed throng
Of Bráhmans, heralded with song,
With shouts of joy from countless throats,
And shells’ and tambours’ mingled notes,
And drums resounding long and loud,
Exulting Bharat joined the crowd.
Still on his head, well-trained in lore
Of duty, Ráma’s shoes he bore.
The moon-white canopy was spread
With flowery twine engarlanded
And jewelled chouries, meet to hold
O’er Ráma’s brow, shone bright with gold,
Though Nandigráma’s town they neared,
Of Ráma yet no sign appeared.
Then Bharat called the Vánar chief
And questioned thus in doubt and grief:
‘Hast thou uncertain, like thy kind,
A sweet delusive guile designed?
Where, where is royal Ráma? show
The hero, victor of the foe.
I gaze, but see no Vánars still
Who wear each varied shape at will.’
In eager love thus Bharat cried,
And thus the Wind-God’s son replied:
‘Look, Bharat, on those laden trees
That murmur with the song of bees;
For Ráma’s sake the saint has made
Untimely fruits, unwonted shade.
Such power in ages long ago
Could Indra’s gracious boon bestow.
O, hear the Vánars’ voices, hear
The shouting which proclaims them near
E’en now about to cross they seem
Sweet Gomati’s delightful stream.
I see, I see the car designed
By Brahmá’s own creative mind,
The car which, radiant as the moon,
Moves at the will by Brahmá’s boon;
The car which once was Rávan’s pride,
The victor’s spoil when Rávan died.
Look, there are Raghu’s sons: between
The brothers stands the rescued queen.
There is Vibhíshan full in view,
Sugríva and his retinue.’
He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue:
From men and dames, from old and young,
One long, one universal cry,
‘Tis he,'tis Ráma, smote the sky.
All lighted down with eager speed
From elephant and car and steed,
And every joyful eye intent
On Ráma’s moonbright face was bent.
Entranced a moment Bharat gazed:
Then reverential hands he raised,
And on his brother humbly pressed
The honours due to welcome guest.
Then Bharat clomb the car to greet
His king and bowed him at his feet,
Till Ráma raised him face to face
And held him in a close embrace.
Then Lakshman and the Maithil dame
He greeted as he spoke his name [5]
He greeted next, supreme in place,
The sovereign of the Vánar race,
And Jámbaván and Báli’s son,
[ p. 506 ]
And lords and chiefs, omitting none. [6]
Sugríva to his heart he pressed
And thus with grateful words addressed:
‘Four brothers, Vánar king, were we,
And now we boast a fifth in thee.
By kindly acts a friend we know:
Offence and wrong proclaim the foe,’
To King Vibhíshan then he spake:
‘Well hast thou fought fov Ráma’s sake.’
Nor was the brave S’atrughna slow
His reverential love to show
To both his brothers, as was meet,
And venerate the lady’s feet.
Then Ráma to his mother came,
Saw her pale cheek and wasted frame,
With gentle words her heart consoled,
And clasped her feet with loving hold.
Then at Sumitra’s feet he bent,
And fair Kaikeyi’s, reverent,
Greeted each dame from chief to least,
And bowed him to the household priest.
Up rose a shout from all the throng:
‘O welcome, Ráma, mourned so long.
Welcome, Kausalyá’s joy and pride,’
Ten hundred thousand voices cried.
Then Bharat placed, in duty taught,
On Ráma’s feet the shoes he brought:
‘My King,’ he cried, 'receive again
The pledge preserved through years of pain,
The rule and lordship of the land
Entrusted to my weaker hand.
No more I sigh o’er sorrows past,
My birth and life are blest at last
In the glad sight this day has shown,
When Ráma comes to rule his own.’
He ceased: the faithful love that moved
The prince’s soul each heart approved;
Nor could the Vánar chiefs refrain
From tender tears that fell like rain.
Then Ráma, stirred with joy anew,
His arms about his brother threw,
And to the grove his course he bent
Where Bharat’s hermit days were spent.
Alighting in that pure retreat
He pressed the earth with eager feet.
Then, at his hest, the car rose high
And sailing through the northern sky
Sped homeward to the Lord of Gold
Who owned the wondrous prize of old. [7]
Then, reverent hand to hand applied,
Thus Bharat to his brother cried:
‘Thy realm, O King, is now restored,
Uninjured to the rightful lord.
This feeble arm with toil and pain,
The weighty charge could scarce sustain.
And the great burthen wellnigh broke
The neck untrained to bear the yoke.
The royal swan outspeeds the crow:
The steed is swift, the mule is slow,
Nor can my feeble feet be led
O’er the rough ways where thine should tread.
Now grant what all thy subjects ask:
Begin, O King, thy royal task.
Now let our longing eyes behold
The glorious rite ordained of old,
And on the new-found monarch’s head
Let consecrating drops be shed.’
He ceased: victorious Ráma bent
His head in token of assent.
He sat, and tonsors trimmed with care
His tangles of neglected hair
Then, duly bathed, the hero shone
With all his splendid raiment on.
And Sitá with the matrons’ aid
Her limbs in shining robes arrayed,
Sumantra then, the charioteer,
Drew, ordered by S’atrughnu near,
And stayed within the hermit grove
The chariot and the steeds he drove.
Therein Sugríva’s consorts, graced
With gems, and Ráma’s queen were placed,
All fain Ayodhyá to behold:
And swift away the chariot rolled.
Like Indra Lord of Thousand Eyes,
Drawn by fleet lions through the skies,
Thus radiant in his glory showed
King Ráma as he homeward rode,
In power and might unparalleled.
The reins the hand of Bharat held.
Above the peerless victor’s head
The snow-white shade S’atrughna spread,
And Lakshman’s ever-ready hand
His forehead with a chourie fanned.
Vibhishan close to Lakshman’s side
Sharing his task a chourie plied.
Sugríva on S’atrunjay came,
An elephant of hugest frame:
Nine thousand others bore, behind,
The chieftains of the Vánar kind
All gay, in forms of human mould,
With rich attire and gems and gold.
[ p. 507 ]
Thus borne along in royal state
King Rama reached Ayodhya’s gate
With merry noise of shells and drums
And joyful shouts, He comes, he comes,
A Brahman host with solemn tread,
And kine the long procession led,
And happy maids in ordered bands
Threw grain and gold with liberal hands.
Neath gorgeous flags that waved in rows
On towers and roofs and porticoes.
Mid merry crowds who sang and cheered
The palace of the king they neared.
Then Raghu’s son to Bharat, best
Of duty’s slaves, these words addressed:
‘Pass onward to the monarch’s hall.
The high-souled Vánars with thee call,
And let the chieftains, as is meet,
The widows of our father greet.
And to the Vánar king assign
Those chambers, best of all, which shine
With lazulite and pearl inlaid,
And pleasant grounds with flowers and shade,’
He ceased: and Bharat bent his head;
Sugriva by the hand he led
And passed within the palace where
Stood couches which S’atrughna’s care,
With robes and hangings richly dyed,
And burning lamps, had seen supplied.
Then Bharat spake: 'I pray thee, friend,
Thy speedy messengers to send,
Each sacred requisite to bring
That we may consecrate our king.’
Sugriva raised four urns of gold,
The water for the rite to hold,
And bade four swiftest Vánars flee
And fill them from each distant sea.
Then east and west and south and north
The Vánar envoys hastened forth.
Each in swift flight an ocean sought
And back through air his treasure brought,
And full five hundred floods beside
Pure water for the king supplied.
Then girt by many a Bráhman sage,
Vasishtha, chief for reverend age,
High in a throne with jewels graced
King Ráma and his Sitá placed.
There by Jábáli, far revered,
Vijay and Kasyap’s son appeared;
By Gautam’s side Kátváyan stood,
And Vámadeva wise and good,
Whose holy hands in order shed
The pure sweet drops on Ráma’s head.
Then priests and maids and warriors, all
Approaching at Vasishtha’s call,
With sacred drops bedewed their king,
The centre of a joyous ring,
The guardians of the worlds, on high,
And all the children of the sky
From herbs wherewith their hands were filled
Bare juices on his brow distilled.
His brows were bound with glistering gold
Which Manu’s self had worn of old,
Bright with the flash of many a gem.
His sire’s ancestral diadem.
Satrughna lent his willing aid
And o’er him held the regal shade:
The monarchs whom his arm had saved
The chouries round his forehead waved.
A golden chain, that flashed and glowed
With gems the God of Wind bestowed:
Mahendra gave a glorious string
Of fairest pearls to deck the king,
The skies with acclamation rang,
The gay nymphs danced, the minstrels sang.
On that blest day the joyful plain
Was clothed anew with golden grain.
The trees the witching influence knew,
And bent with fruits of loveliest hue,
And Rama’s consecration lent
New sweetness to each flowret’s scent.
The monarch, joy of Raghu’s line,
Gave largess to the Bráhmans, kine
And steeds unnumbered, wealth untold
Of robes and pearls and gems and gold.
A jewelled chain, whose lustre passed
The glory of the sun, he cast
About his friend Sugriva’s neck;
And, Angad Báli’s son to deck,
He gave a pair of armlets bright
With diamond and lazulite.
A string of pearls of matchless hue
Which gleams like tender moonlight threw
Adorned with gems of brightest sheen,
He gave to grace his darling queen.
The offering from his hand received
A moment on her bosom heaved;
Then from her neck the chain she drew,
A glance on all the Vánars threw,
And wistful eyes on Ráma bent
As still she held the ornament.
Her wish he knew, and made reply
To that mute question of her eye:
‘Yea. love; the chain on him bestow
Whose wisdom truth and might we know,
The firm ally, the faithful friend
Through toil and peril to the end,
Then on Hanúmán’s bosom hung
The chain which Sitá’s hand had flung:
So may a cloud, when winds are still
With moon-lit silver gird a hill.
To every Vánar Ráma gave
Rich treasures from the mine and wave.
And with their honours well content
Homeward their steps the chieftains bent.
Ten thousand years Ayodhyá, blest
With Ráma’s rule, had peace and rest.
No widow mourned her murdered mate,
No house was ever desolate.
The happy land no murrain knew,
The flocks and herds increased and grew.
[ p. 508 ]
The earth her kindly fruits supplied,
No harvest failed, no children died.
Unknown were want, disease, and crime:
So calm, so happy was the time. [8]
502:1 Ravan’s queen. ↩︎
502:1b Or Maináka. ↩︎
502:2b Here, in the North-west recension, Sítá expresses a wish that Tará and the wives of the Vánar chiefs should be invited to accompany her to Ajodhyá. The car descends, and the Vánar matrons are added to the party. The Bengal recension ignores this palpable interruption. ↩︎
504:1 I have abridged Hanuman’s outline of Ráma’s adventures, with the details of which we are already sufficiently acquainted. ↩︎
505:1 In these respectful salutations the person who salutes his superior mentions his own name even when it is well known to the person whom he salutes. ↩︎
506:1 I have omitted the chieftains’ names as they could not be introduced without padding. They are Mainda, Dwivid, Níla Rishabh, Sushen, Nala, Gaváksha, Gandhamádan, S’arabh, and Panas. ↩︎
506:2 The following addition is found in the Bengal recension: But Vais’ravan (Kuvera) when he beheld his chariot said unto it: ‘Go, and carry Ráma, and come unto me when my thought shall call thee, And the chariot returned unto Ráma:’ and he honoured it when he had heard what had passed. ↩︎
508:1 Here follows in the original an enumeration of the chief blessings which will attend the man or woman who reads or hears read this tale of Ráma. These blessings are briefly mentioned at the end of the first Canto of the first book, and it appears unnecessary to repeat them here in their amplified form. The Bengal recension (Gorresio’s edition) gives them more concisely as follows: 'This is the great first poem blessed and glorious, which gives long life to men and victory to kings, the poem which Válmíki made. He who listens to this wondrous tale of Ráma unwearied in action shall be absolved from all his sins. By listening to the deeds of Ráma he who wishes for sons shall obtain, his heart’s desire, and to him who longs for riches shall riches be given. The virgin who asks for a husband shall obtain a husband suited to her mind, and shall meet again her dear kinsfolk who are far away. They who hear this poem which Válmíki made shall obtain all their desires and all their prayers shall be fulfilled.’ ↩︎