Still Rávan’s haughty heart rebelled.
The counsel of the wise repelled,
And, as his breast with passion burned,
His thoughts again to Sitá turned.
Thus, to each sign of danger blind,
To love and war he still inclined.
Then mounted he his car that glowed
With gems and golden net, and rode
Where, gathered at the monarch’s call,
The nobles filled the council hall.
A host of warriors bright and gay
With coloured robes and rich array,
With shield and mace and spear and sword,
Followed the chariot of their lord
Mid the loud voice of shells and beat
Of drums he raced along the street,
And, ere he came, was heard afar
The rolling thunder of his car.
He reached the doors: the nobles bent
Their heads before him reverent:
And, welcomed with their loud acclaim,
Within the glorious hall he came.
He sat upon a royal seat
With golden steps beneath his feet,
And bade the heralds summon all
His captains to the council hall.
The heralds heard the words he spake,
And sped from house to house to wake
The giants where they slept or spent
The careless hours in merriment.
These heard the summons and obeyed:
From chamber, grove, and colonnade,
On elephants or cars they rode,
Or through the streets impatient strode.
As birds on rustling pinions fly
Through regions of the darkened sky,
Thus cars and mettled coursers through
The crowded streets of Lanká flew.
The council hall was reached, and then,
As lions seek their mountain den.
Through massy doors that opened wide,
With martial stalk the captains hied.
Welcomed with honour as was meet
They stooped to press their monarch’s feet,
[ p. 435 ]
And each a place in order found
On stool, on cushion, or the ground.
Nor did the sage Vibhishan long
Delay to join the noble throng.
High on a car that shone like flame
With gold and flashing gems he came,
Drew near and spoke his name aloud,
And reverent to his brother bowed.
The king in counsel unsurpassed
His eye around the synod cast,
And fierce Prahasta, first and best
Of all his captains, thus addressed:
'Brave master of each warlike art,
Arouse thee and perform thy part.
Array thy fourfold forces [1] well
To guard our isle and citadel.’
The captain of the hosts obeyed,
The troops with prudent skill arrayed;
Then to the hall again he hied,
And stood before the king and cried:
'Each inlet to the town is closed
Without, within, are troops disposed.
With fearless heart thine aim pursue
And do the deed thou hast in view,’
Thus spoke Prahasta in the zeal
That moved him for the kingdom’s weal.
And thus the monarch, who pursued
His own delight, his speech renewed:
‘In ease and bliss, in toil and pain,
In doubts of duty, pleasure, pain,
Your proper path I need not tell.
For of yourselves ye know it well.
The Storm-Gods, Moon, and planets bring
New glory to their heavenly king, [2]
And, ranged about your monarch, ye
Give joy and endless fame to me.
My secret counsel have I kept,
While senseless Kumbhakarna slept.
Six months the warrior’s slumbers last
And bind his torpid senses fast;
Bat now his deep repose he breaks,
The beat of all our champions wakes.
I captured, Ráma’s heart to wring,
This daughter of Videha’s king.
And brought her from that distant land [3]
Where wandered many a Rákshas band.
Disdainful still my love she spurns.
Still from each prayer and offering turns,
Yet in all lands beneath the sun
No dame may rival Sítá, none,
Her dainty waist is round and slight,
Her cheek like autumn’s moon is bright.
And she like fruit in graven gold
Mocks her [4] whom Maya framed of old.
Faultless in form, how firmly tread
Her feet whose soles are rosy red!
Ah, as I gaze her beauty takes
My spirit, and my passion wakes.
Looking for Ráma far away
She sought with tears a year’s delay
Nor gazing on her love-lit eye
Could I that earnest prayer deny.
But baffled hopes and vain desire
At length my patient spirit tire.
How shall the sons of Raghu sweep
To vengeance o’er the pathless deep?
How shall they lead the Vánar train
Across the monster-teeming main?
One Vánar yet could find a way
To Lanká’s town, and burn and slay.
Take counsel then, remembering still
That we from men need fear no ill;
And give your sentence in debate,
For matchless is the power of fate.
Assailed by you the Gods who dwell
In heaven beneath our fury fell.
And shall we fear these creatures bred
In forests, by Sugríva led?
E’en now on ocean’s farther strand,
The sons of Das’aratha stand.
And follow, burning to attack
Their giant foes, on Sítá’s track.
Consult then, lords for ye are wise:
A seasonable plan devise.
The captive lady to retain,
And triumph when the foes are slain.
No power can bring across the foam
Those Vánars to our island home;
Or if they madly will defy
Our conquering might, they needs must die.’
Then Kumbhakarna’s anger woke.
And wroth at Rávan’s words he spoke:
‘O Monarch, when thy ravished eyes
First looked upon thy lovely prize,
Then was the time to bid us scan
Each peril and mature a plan.
Blest is the king who acts with heed,
And ne’er repents one hasty deed;
And hapless he whose troubled soul
Mourns over days beyond control.
[ p. 436 ]
Thou hast, in beauty’s toils ensnared,
A desperate deed of boldness dared;
By fortune saved ere Ráma’s steel
One wound, thy mortal bane, could deal.
But, Rávan, as the deed is done,
The toil of war I will not shun.
This arm, O rover of the night,
Thy foemen to the earth shall smite,
Though Indra with the Lord of Flame,
The Sun and Storms, against me came.
E’en Indra, monarch of the skies,
Would dread my club and mountain size,
Shrink from these teeth and quake to hear
The thunders of my voice of fear.
No second dart shall Ráma cast:
The first he aims shall be the last.
He falls, and these dry lips shall drain
The blood of him my hand has slain;
And Sitá, when her champion dies,
Shall be thine undisputed prize.’
But Mahápárs’va saw the sting
Of keen reproach had galled the king;
And humbly, eager to appease
His anger, spoke in words like these:
'And breathes there one so cold and weak
The forest and the gloom to seek
Where savage beasts abound, and spare
To taste the luscious honey there?
Art thou not lord? and who is he
Shall venture to give laws to thee?
Love thy Videhan still, and tread
Upon thy prostrate foeman’s head.
O’er Sitá’s will let thine prevail,
And strength achieve if flattery fail.
What though the lady yet be coy
And turn her from the proffered joy?
Soon shall her conquered heart relent
And yield to love and blandishment.
With us let Kumbhakarna fight,
And Indrajit of matchless might
We need not other champions, they
Shall lead us forth to rout and slay.
Not ours to bribe or soothe or part
The foeman’s force with gentle art,
Doomed, conquered by our might, to feel
The vengeance of the warrior’s steel.’
The Rákshas monarch heard, and moved
By flattering hopes the speech approved:
‘Hear me,’ he cried, ‘great chieftain, tell
What in the olden time befell,—
A secret tale which, long supressed,
Lies prisoned only in my breast.
One day—a day I never forget—
Fair Punjikasthalá 1 I met,
When, radiant as a flame of fire,
She sought the palace of the Sire.
In passion’s eager grasp I tore
From her sweet limbs the robes she wore,
And heedless of her prayers and cries
Strained to my breast the vanquised prize.
Like Nalini 2 with soil distained.
The mansion of the Sire she gained,
And weeping made the outrage known
To Brahmá on his heavenly throne.
He in his wrath pronounced a curse,—
That lord who made the universe:
‘If, Rávan, thou a second time
Be guilty of so foul a crime,
Thy head in shivers shall be rent:
Be warned, and dread the punishment.
Awed by the threat of vengeance still
I force not Sitá’s stubborn will.
Terrific as the sea in might:
My steps are like the Storm-Gods’ flight;
But Ráma knows not this, or he
Had never sought to war with me.
Where is the man would idly brave
The lion in his mountain cave,
And wake him when with slumbering eyes
Grim, terrible as Death, he lies?
No, blinded Ráma knows me not:
Ne’er has he seen mine arrows shot;
Ne’er marked them speeding to their aim
Like snakes with cloven tongues of flame.
On him those arrows will I turn,
Whose fiery points shall rend and burn.
Quenched by my power when I assail
The glory of his might shall fail,
As stars before the sun grow dim
And yield their feeble light to him.’
He ceased: Vibhíshan ill at ease
Addressed the king in words like these:
O Rávan, O my lord, beware
Of Sitá dangerous as fair,
Nor on thy heedless bosom hang
This serpent with a deadly fang.
O King, the Maithil dame restore
To Raghu’s matchlees son before
Those warriors of the woodlands, vast
As mountain peaks, approaching fast,
Armed with fierce teeth and claws, enclose
Thy city with unsparing foes.
O, be the Maithil dame restored
Ere loosened from the clanging cord
[ p. 437 ]
The vengeful shafts of Ráma fly,
And low in death thy princes lie.
In all thy legions hast thou one
A match in war for Raghu’s son?
Can Kumbhakarna’s self withstand,
Or Indrajit, that mighty hand?
In vain with Ráma wilt thou strive:
Thou wilt not save thy soul alive
Though guarded by the Lord of Day
And Storm-Gods’ terrible array,
In vain to Indra wilt thou fly,
Or seek protection in the sky,
In Yama’s gloomy mansion dwell,
Or hide thee in the depths of hell.’
He ceased; and when his lips were closed
Prahasta thus his rede opposed:
‘O timid heart, to counsel thus!
What terrors have the Gods for us?
Can snake, Gandharva, fiend appal
The giants’ sons who scorn them all?
And shall we now our birth disgrace,
And dread a king of human race?’
Thus fierce Prahasta counselled ill;
But sage Vibhíshan’s constant will
The safety of the realm ensued;
Who thus in turn his speech renewed:
'Yes, when a soul defiled with sin
Shall mount to heaven and enter in,
Then, chieftain, will experience teach
The truth of thy disdainful speech.
Can I, or thou, or these or all
Our bravest compass Ráma’s fall,
The chief in whom all virtues shine,
The pride of old Ikshváku’a line,
With whom the Gods may scarce compare
In skill to act, in heart to dare?
Yea, idly mayst thou vaunt thee, till
Sharp arrows winged with matchless skill
From Ráma’s bowstring, fleet and fierce
As lightning’s flame, thy body pierce.
Nikumbha shall not save thee then,
Nor Rávan, from the lord of men.
O Monarch, hear my last appeal,
My counsel for thy kingdom’s weal,
This sentence I again declare:
O giant King, beware, beware!
Save from the ruin that impends
Thy town, thy people, and thy friends;
O hear the warning urged once more:
To Raghu’s son the dame restore.’
He ceased: and Indrajit the pride
Of Rákshas warriors thus replied:
‘Is this a speech our king should hear,
This counsel of ignoble fear?
A scion of our glorious race
Should ne’er conceive a thought so base,
But one mid all our kin we find.
Vibhíshan, whose degenerate mind
No spark of gallant pride retains.
Whose coward soul his lineage stains.
Against one giant what can two
Unhappy sons of Raghu do?
Away with idle fears, away!
Matched with our meanest, what are they?
Beneath my conquering prowess fell
The Lord of earth and heaven and hell, [5]
Through every startled region dread
Of my resistless fury spread;
And Gods in each remotest sphere
Confessed the universal fear.
Rending the air with roar and groan,
Airávt [6] to the earth was thrown.
From his huge head the tusks I drew,
And smote the Gods with fear anew.
Shall I who tame celestials’ pride,
By whom the fiends are terrified,
Now prove a weakling little worth,
And fail to slay those sons of earth?’
He ceased: Vibhíshan trained and tried
In war and counsel thus replied
'Thy speech is marked with scorn of truth,
With rashness and the pride of youth.
Yea, to thy ruin like a child
Thou pratest, and thy words are wild.
Most dear, O Indrajit, to thee
Should Rávan’s weal and safety be,
For thou art called his son, but thou
Art proved his direst foeman now,
When warned by me thou hast not tried
To turn the coming woe aside.
Both thee and him 'twere meet to slay,
Who brought thee to this hall to-day,
And dared so rash a youth admit
To council where the wisest sit.
Presumptuous, wild, devoid of sense,
Filled full of pride and insolence,
Thv reckless tongue thou wilt not rule
That speaks the counsel of a fool.
Who in the fight may brook or shun
The arrows shot by Raghu’s son
With flame and fiery vengeance sped,
Dire as his staff who rules the dead?
O Rávan, let thy people live,
And to the son of Raghu give
Fair robes and gems and precious ore,
And Sitá to his arms restore.’
[ p. 438 ]
Then, while his breast with fury swelled,
Thus Rávan spoke, as fate impelled:
'Better with foes thy dwelling make,
Or house thee with the venomed snake,
Than live with false familiar friends
Who further still thy foeman’s ends.
I know their treacherous mood, I know
Their secret triumph at thy woe.
They in their inward hearts despise
The brave, the noble, and the wise,
Grieve at their bliss with rancorous hate,
And for their sorrows watch and wait:
Scan every fault with curious eye,
And each slight error magnify.
Ask elephants who roam the wild
How were their captive friends beguiled.
‘For fire,’ they cry, 'we little care,
For javelin and shaft and snare:
Our foes are traitors, taught to bind
The trusting creatures of their kind.’
Still, still, shall blessings flow from cows, [7]
And Brahmans love their rigorous vows;
Still woman change her restless will,
And friends perfidious work us ill,
What though with conquering feet I tread
On every prostrate foeman’s head;
What though the worlds in abject fear
Their mighty lord in me revere
This thought my peace of mind destroys
And robs me of expected joys.
The lotus of the lake receives
The glittering rain that gems its leaves,
But each bright drop remains apart:
So is it still with heart and heart,
Deceitful as an autumn cloud
Which, though its thunderous voice be loud,
On the dry earth no torrent sends,
Such is the race of faithless friends,
No riches of the bloomy spray
Will tempt the wandering bee to stay
That loves from flower to flower to range;
And friends like thee are swift to change,
Thou blot upon thy glorious line,
If any giant’s tongue but thine
Had dared to give this base advice,
He should not live to shame me twice,’
Then just Vibhíshan in the heat
Of anger started from his seat,
And with four captains of the band
Sprang forward with his mace in hand;
Then, fury flashing from his eye,
Looked on the king and made reply:
'Thy rights, O Rávan, I allow:
My brother and mine elder thou.
Such, though from duty’s path they stray,
We love like fathers and obey,
But still too bitter to be borne
Is thy harsh speech of cruel scorn.
The rash like thee, who spurn control,
Nor check one longing of the soul,
Urged by malignant fate repel
The faithful friend who counsels well,
A thousand courtiers wilt thou meet,
With flattering lips of smooth deceit;
But rare are they whose tongue or ear
Will speak the bitter truth, or hear.
Unclose thy blinded eyes and see
That snares of death encompass thee,
I dread, my brother, to behold
The shafts of Ráma, bright with gold,
Flash fury through the air, and red
With fires of vengeance strike thee dead,
Lord, brother, King, again reflect,
Nor this mine earnest prayer reject,
O, save thyself, thy royal town,
Thy people and thine old renown.”
Soon as his bitter words were said,
To Raghu’s sons Vibhíshan fled. [8]
Their eyes the Vánar leaders raised
And on the air-borne Bákhshas gazed,
Bright as a thunderbolt, in size
Like Meru’s peak that cleaves the skies,
In gorgeous panoply arrayed
Like Indra’s self he stood displayed,
And four attendants brave and bold
Shone by their chief in mail and gold.
Sugríva then with dark surmise
Bent on their forms his wondering eyes,
And thus in hasty words confessed
The anxious doubt that moved his breast:
‘ Look, look ye Vánars, and beware:
That giant chief sublime in air
With other four in bright array
Comes armed to conquer and to slay.’
[ p. 439 ]
Soon as his warning speech they heard,
The Vánar chieftains undeterred
Seized fragments of the rock and trees,
And made reply in words like these:
‘We wait thy word: the order give,
And these thy foes shall cease to live.
Command us, mighty King, and all
Lifeless upon the earth shall fall.’
Meanwhile Vibhíshan with the four
Stood high above the ocean shore.
Sugríva and the chiefs he spied,
And raised his mighty voice and cried:
‘From Rávan, lord of giants, I
His brother, named Vibhíshan, fly.
From Janasthán he stole the child
Of Janak by his art beguiled,
And in his palace locked and barred
Surrounds her with a Rákshas guard,
I bade him, plied with varied lore,
His hapless prisoner restore.
But he, by Fate to ruin sent,
No credence to my counsel lent,
Mad as the fevered wretch who sees
And scorns the balm to bring him ease.
He scorned the sage advice I gave,
He spurned me like a base-born slave.
I left my children and my wife,
And fly to Raghu’s son for life.
I pray thee, Vánar chieftain, speed
To him who saves in hour of need,
And tell him famed in distant lands
That, suppliant here Vibhíshan stands.’
The Rákshas ceased: Sugriva hied
To Raghu’s noble son and cried:
‘A stranger from the giant host,
Borne o’er the sea, has reached the coast
A secret foe, he comes to slay,
As owls attack their heedless prey.
‘Tis thine, O King, in time of need
To watch, to counsel, and to lead,
Our Vánar legions to dispose,
And guard us from our crafty foes.
Vibhíshan from the giants’ isle.
King Rávan’s brother, comes with guile
And, feigning from his king to flee,
Seeks refuge Raghu’s son, with thee.
Arise, O Ráma, and prevent
By bold attack his dark intent.
Who comes in friendly guise prepared
To slay thee by his arts ensnared.’
Thus urged Sugríva famed for lore
Of moving words, and spoke no more.
Then Ráma thus in turn addressed
The bold Hanúmán and the rest:
‘Chiefs of the Vanár legions each
Of you heard Sugríva’s speech.
What think ye now in time of fear,
When peril and distress are near,
In every doubt the wise depend
For counsel on a faithful friend’
They heard his gracious words, and then
Spake reverent to the lord of men:
‘O Raghu’s son, thou knowest well
All things of heaven and earth and hell.
‘Tis but thy friendship bids us speak
The counsel Ráma need not seek.
So duteous, brave, and true art thou,
Heroic, faithful to thy vow.
Deep in the scriptures, trained and tried,
Still in thy friends wilt thou confide.
Let each of us in turn impart
The secret counsel of his heart,
And strive to win his chief’s assent.
By force of wisest argument.’
They ceased and Angad thus began:
‘With jealous eye the stranger scan:
Not yet with trusting heart receive
Vibhíshan, nor his tale believe.
These giants wandering far and wide
Their evil nature falsely hide,
And watching with malignant skill
Assail us when we fear no ill.
Well ponder every hope and fear
Until thy doubtful course be clear;
Then own his merit or detect
His guile, and welcome or reject.’
Then Sarabhu the bold and brave
In turn his prudent sentence gave:
‘Yea, Ráma, send a skilful spy
With keenest tact to test and try.
Then let the stranger, as is just,
Obtain or be refused thy trust.’
Then he whose heart was rich in store
Of scripture’s life-directing lore.
King Jámbaván, stood forth and cried:
‘Suspect, suspect a foe allied
With Rávan lord of Lanká’s isle,
And Rákshas sin and Rákshas guile.”
Then Maiuda, wisest chief, who knew
The wrong, the right, the false, the true,
Pondered a while, then silence broke,
And thus his sober counsel spoke:
‘Let one with gracious speech draw near
And gently charm Vibhíshan’s ear,
Till he the soothing witchery feel
And all his secret heart reveal.
So thou his aims and hopes shalt know,
And hail the friend or shun the foe.’
‘Not he,’ Hanúmán cried, 'not he
Who taught the Gods, [9] may rival thee,
Supreme in power of quickest sense,
First in the art of eloquence.
But hear me soothly speak, O King,
And learn the hope to which I cling.
Vibhíshan comes no cratty spy:
Urged by his brother’s fault to fly.
With righteous soul that loathes the sin,
He fled from Lanká and his kin.
[ p. 440 ]
If strangers question, doubt will rise
And chill the heart of one so wise.
Marred by distrust the parle will end,
And then wilt lose a faithful friend.
Nor let it seem so light a thing
To sound a stranger’s heart, O King.
And he, I ween, whate’er he say,
Will ne’er an evil thought betray.
He comes a friend in happy time,
Loathing his brother for his crime.
His ear has heard thine old renown,
The might that struck King Báli down,
And set Sugríva on the throne.
And looking now to thee alone
He comes thy matchless aid to win
And punish Rávan for his sin.
Thus have I tried thy heart to move,
And thus Vibhíshan’s truth to prove.
Still in his friendship I confide;
But ponder, wisest, and decide.’
Then Ráma’s rising doubt was stilled,
And friendly thoughts his bosom filled.
Thus, deep in Scripture’s lore, he spake:
‘The suppliant will I ne’er forsake,
Nor my protecting aid refuse
When one in name of friendship sues.
Though faults and folly blot his fame,
Pity and help he still may claim.’
He ceased: Sugríva bowed his head
And pondered for a while, and said:
'Past number be his faults or few,
What think ye of the Rákshas who,
When threatening clouds of danger rise,
Deserts his brother’s side and flies?
Say, Vánars, who may hope to find
True friendship in his faithless kind?’
The son of Raghu heard his speech:
He cast a hasty look on each
Of those brave Vánar chiefs, and while
Upon his lips there played a smile,
To Lakshman turned and thus expressed
The thoughts that moved his gallant breast:
‘Well versed in Scripture’s lore, and sage
And duly reverent to age,
Is he, with long experience stored,
Who counsels like this Vánar lord.
Yet here, methinks, for searching eyea
Some deeper, subtler matter lies.
To you and all the world are known
The perils of a monarch’s throne,
While foe and stranger, kith and kin
By his misfortune trust to win.
By hope of *such advantage led,
Vibhíshan o’er the sea has fled.
He in his brother’s stead would reign,
And our alliance seeks to gain;
And we his offer may embrace,
A stranger and of alien race.
But if he comes a spy and foe,
What power has he to strike a blow
In furtherance of his close design?
What is his strength compared with mine?
And can I, Vánar King, forget
The great, the universal debt,
Ever to aid and welcome those
Who pray for shelter, friends or foes?
Hast thou not heard the deathless praise
Won by the dove in olden days,
Who conquering his fear and hate
Welcomed the slayer of his mate,
And gave a banquet, to refresh
The weary fowler, of his flesh?
Now hear me, Vánar King, rehearse
What Kandu [10] spoke in ancient verse,
Saint Kanva’s son who loved the truth
And clave to virtue from his youth:
‘Strike not the suppliant when he stands
And asks thee with beseeching hands
For shelter: strike him not although
He were thy father’s mortal foe.
No, yield him, be he proud or meek,
The shelter which he comes to seek,
And save thy foeman, if the deed
Should cost thy life, in desperate need.’
And shall I hear the wretched cry,
And my protecting aid deny?
Shall I a suppliant’s prayer refuse,
And heaven and glory basely lose?
No, I will do for honour sake
E’en as the holy Kandu spake,
Preserve a hero’s name from stain,
And bliss in heaven and glory gain.
Bound by a solemn vow I sware
That all my saving help should share
Who sought me in distress and cried,
‘Thou art my hope, and none beside,’
Then go, I pray thee, Vánar King,
Vibhíshan to my presence bring.
Yea, were he Rávan’s self, my vow
Forbids me to reject him now.’
He ceased: the Vánar king approved;
And Ráma toward Vibhíshan moved.
So moves, a brother God to greet,
Lord Indra from his heavenly seat.
[ p. 441 ]
When Raghu’s son had owned his claim
Down from the air Vibhíshan came,
And with his four attendants bent
At Ráma’s feet most reverent.
‘O Ráma,’ thus he cried, 'in me
Vibhíshan, Rávan’s brother see.
By him disgraced thine aid I seek,
Sure refuge of the poor and weak.
From Lanká, friends, and wealth I fly.
And reft of all on thee rely.
On thee, the wretch’s firmest friend,
My kingdom, joys, and life depend.’
With glance of favour Ráma eyed
The Rákshas chief and thus replied:
'First from thy lips I fain would hear
Each brighter hope, each darker fear.
Speak, stranger, that I well may know
The strength and weakness of the foe.’
He ceased: the Rákshas chief obeyed,
And thus in turn his answer made:
'O Prince, the Self-existent gave
This boon to Rávan; he may brave
All foes in fight; no fiend or snake,
Gandharva, God, his life may take.
His brother Kumbhakarna vies
In might with him who rules the skies.
The captain of his armies—fame
Perhaps has taught the warrior’s name—
Is terrible Prahanta, who
King Manibhadra’s [11] self o’erthrew.
Where is the warrior found to face
Young Indrajit, when armed with brace
And guard [12] and bow he stands in mail
And laughs at spear and arrowy hail?
Within his city Lanká dwell
Ten million giants fierce and fell,
Who wear each varied shape at will
And eat the flesh of those they kill.
These hosts against the Gods he led.
And heavenly might discomfited.’
Then Ráma cried: 'I little heed
Gigantic strength or doughty deed.
In spite of all their might has done
The king, the captain, aud the son
Shall fall beneath my fury dead,
And thou shalt reign in Rávan’s stead.
He, though in depths of earth he dwell,
Or seek protection down in hell,
Or kneel before the Sire supreme,
His forfeit life shall ne’er redeem.
Yea, by my brothers’ lives I swear,
I will not to my home repair
Till Rávan and his kith and kin
Have paid in death the price of sin.’
Vibhíshan bowed his head and cried:
‘Thy conquering army will I guide
To storm the city of the foe,
And aid the tyrant’s overthrow.’
Thus spake Vibhíshan: Ráma pressed
The Rákshas chieftain to his breast,
And cried to Lakshman:‘Haste and bring
Sea-water for the new-made king.’
He spoke, and o’er Vibhíshan’s head
The consecrating drops were shed
Mid shouts that hailed with one accord
The giants’ king and Lanká’s lord,
‘Is there no way,’ Hanúmán cried,
‘No passage o’er the boisterous tide?
How may we lead the Vánar host
In triumph to the farther coast?
‘Thus,’ said Vibhíshan, 'I advise:
Let Raghu’s son in suppliant guise
Entreat the mighty Sea to lend
His succour and this cause befriend.
His channels, as the wise have told,
By Sagar’s sons were dug of old, 1b
Nor will high-thoughted Ocean scorn
A prince of Sagar’s lineage born.’
He ceased; the prudent counsel won
The glad assent of Raghu’s son.
Then on the ocean shore a bed
Of tender sacred grass was spread,
Where Ráma at the close of day
Like fire upon an altar lay.
Sárdúla, Rávan’s spy, surveyed
The legions on the strand arrayed.
And bore, his bosom racked with fear,
These tidings to the monarch’s ear:
'They come, they come. A rushing tide,
Ten leagues they spread from side to side,
And on to storm thy citv press,
Fierce rovers of the wilderness.
Rich in each princely power and grace,
The pride of Das’aratha’s race,
Ráma and Lakshman lead their bands,
And halt them on the ocean sands.
O Monarch, rise, this peril meet;
Risk not the danger of defeat.
[ p. 442 ]
First let each wiser art be tried;
Bribe them, or win them, or divide.’
Such was the counsel of the spy:
And Rávan called to S’uka: ‘Fly,
Sugríva lord of Vánars seek,
And thus my kingly message speak:
‘Great power and might and fame are thine.
Brave scion of a royal line,
King Riksharajuas’ son, in thee
A brother and a friend I see.
How wrouged by me canst thou complain?
What profit here pretend to gain?
If from the wood the wife I stole
Of Ráma of the prudent soul,
What cause hast thou to mourn the theft?
Thou art not injured or bereft.
Return, O King, thy steps retrace
And seek thy mountain dwelling-place.
No, never may thy hosts within
My Lanká’s walls a footing win.
A mighty town whose strength defies
The gathered armies of the skies.’
He ceased: obedient S’uka heard;
With wings and plumage of a bird
He rose in eager speed and through
The air upon his errand flew.
Borne o’er the sea with rapid wing
He stood above the Vánar king,
And spoke aloud, sublime in air.
Thu message he was charged so bear.
The Vánar heard the words he spoke,
And quick redoubling stroke on stroke
On head and pinions hemmed him round
And bore him struggling to the grouud.
The Rákshas wounded and distressed
These words to Raghu’s son addressed:
'Quick, quick! This Vánar host * restrain,
For heralds never must be slain.
To him alone, a wretch untrue,
The punishment of death is due
Who leaves his master’s speech unsaid
And speaks another word * instead’
Moved by the suppliant speech and praver
Up sprang the prince and cried, forbear.
Saved from his wild assailant’s blows
Again the Rákshas herald rose
And borne on light wings to the sky
Addressed Sugríva from on high:
‘O Vánar Monarch, chief endued
With power and wonderous fortitude.
What answer is my king the fear
And scourge of weeping worlds, to hear?’
‘Go tell thy lord,’ Sugríva cried.
‘Thou, Ráma’s foe, art thus defied.
His arm the guilty Bali slew;
Thus, tyrant, shalt thee perish too,
Thy sons, thy friends, proud King and all
Thy kith and kin with thee shall fall;
And emptied of the giant’s brood,
Burnt * Lanká be a solitude.
Fly to the Sun-God’s pathway, go
And hide thee deep in hell below:
In vain from Ráma shalt thou flee
Though heavenly warriors fight for thee.
Thine arm subdued, securely bold,
The Vulture-king infirm and old:
But will thy puny strength avail
When Raghu’s wrathful sons assail?
A captive in thy palace lies
The lady of the lotus eyes:
Thou knowest not how fierce and strong
Is he whom thou hast dared to wrong.
The best of Raghu’s lineage, he
Whose conquering hand shall punish thee.’
He ceased: and Augad raised a cry;
‘This is no herald but a spy.
Above thee from his airy post
His rapid eye surveyed our host,
Where with advantage he might scan
Our gathered strength from rear to van,
Bind him. Vánars, bind the spy,
Nor let him back to Lanká fly.’
They hurled the Rákshas to the ground,
Thiey grasped his neck, his pinions bound,
And firmly held bear while * in vain
His voice was lifted to complain.
But Ráma’s heart inclined to spare,
He listened to his plaint and prayer,
And cried aloud: 'O Vánars, cease;
The captive from his bonds release.’
435:1 Consisting of warriors on elephants, warriors in chariots, charioteers, and infantry. ↩︎
435:2 Indra, generally represented as surrounded by the Maruts or Storm-Gods. ↩︎
435:3 Janasthán, where Ráma a lived as an ascetic. ↩︎
435:1b Máyá, regarded as the paragon of female beauty, was the creation of Maya the chief artificer of the Datyas or Dinavs. ↩︎
437:1 Trilohanatha, Lord of the Three Worlds, is a title of Indra. ↩︎
437:2 The celestial elephant that carries Indra. ↩︎
438:1 As producers of the ghi, clarified butter or sacrificial oil, used in fire-offerings. ↩︎
438:1b This dessertion to the enemy is somewhat abrupt, and is narrated with brevity not usual with Válmíki. In the Bengal recension the preceding speakers and speeches differ considerably from those given in the text which I follow. Vibhishan is kicked from his seat by Rávan, and then, after telling his mother what has happened, he flies to Mount Kailása where he has an interview with Siva, and by his advice seeks Ráma and the Vanar army. ↩︎
439:1 Vrihuspatí the preceptor of the Gods. ↩︎
440:1 In Book II. Canto XXI, Kandu is mentioned by Ráma as an example of filial obedience. At the command of his father he is said to have killed a cow. ↩︎
441:1 A King of the Yakshas, or Kuvera himself, the God of Gold. ↩︎
441:2 The brace protects the left arm from injury from the bow-string, and the guard protects the fingers of the right hand. ↩︎