The Ramayana Part 104

Canto XLVII. Ravan's Wooing.

As, clad in mendicant's disguise, He questioned thus his destined prize, She to the seeming saintly man The story of her life began.

"My guest is he," she thought, "and I, To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:"

"Child of a n.o.ble sire I spring From Janak, fair Videha's king.

May every good be thine! my name Is Sita, Rama's cherished dame.

Twelve winters with my lord I spent Most happily with sweet content In the rich home of Raghu's line, And every earthly joy was mine.

Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then His peers advised the king of men, Rama, my lord, to consecrate Joint ruler of his ancient state.

But when the rites were scarce begun, To consecrate Ikshvaku's son, The queen Kaikeyi, honoured dame, Sought of her lord an ancient claim.

Her plea of former service pressed, And made him grant her new request, To banish Rama to the wild And consecrate instead her child.

This double prayer on him, the best And truest king, she strongly pressed: "Mine eyes in sleep I will not close, Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.

This very day my death shall bring If Rama be anointed king."

As thus she spake in envious ire, The aged king, my husband's sire, Besought with fitting words; but she Was cold and deaf to every plea.

As yet my days are few; eighteen The years of life that I have seen; And Rama, best of all alive, Has pa.s.sed of years a score and five- Rama the great and gentle, through All region famed as pure and true, Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall, With tender heart that cares for all.

But Dasaratha, led astray By woman's wile and pa.s.sion's sway, By his strong love of her impelled, The consecrating rites withheld.

When, hopeful of the promised grace, My Rama sought his father's face, The queen Kaikeyi, ill at ease, Spoke to my lord brief words like these: "Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me The words thy father says to thee: "I yield this day to Bharat's hand, Free from all foes, this ancient land.

Fly from this home no longer thine, And dwell in woods five years and nine.

Live in the forest and maintain Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.' "

Then Rama spoke, untouched by dread: "Yea, it shall be as thou hast said."

And answered, faithful to his vows, Obeying Dasaratha's spouse: "The offered realm I would not take, But still keep true the words he spake."

Thus, gentle Brahman, Rama still Clung to his vow with firmest will.

And valiant Lakshma?, dear to fame, His brother by a younger dame, Bold victor in the deadly fray, Would follow Rama on his way.

On sternest vows his heart was set, And he, a youthful anch.o.r.et, Bound up in twisted coil his hair And took the garb which hermits wear; Then with his bow to guard us, he Went forth with Rama and with me.

By Queen Kaikeyi's art bereft The kingdom and our home we left, And bound by stern religious vows We sought this shade of forest boughs.

Now, best of Brahmans, here we tread These pathless regions dark and dread.

But come, refresh thy soul, and rest Here for a while an honoured guest, For he, my lord, will soon be here With fresh supply of woodland cheer, Large store of venison of the buck, Or some great boar his hand has struck.

Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer: Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare, And why with no companion thou Roamest in Da??ak forest now."

Thus questioned Sita, Rama's dame.

Then fierce the stranger's answer came: "Lord of the giant legions, he From whom celestial armies flee,- The dread of h.e.l.l and earth and sky, Rava? the Rakshas king am I.

Now when thy gold-like form I view Arrayed in silks of amber hue, My love, O thou of perfect mould, For all my dames is dead and cold.

A thousand fairest women, torn From many a land my home adorn.

But come, loveliest lady, be The queen of every dame and me.

My city Lanka, glorious town, Looks from a mountain's forehead down Where ocean with his flash and foam Beats madly on mine island home.

With me, O Sita, shalt thou rove Delighted through each shady grove, Nor shall thy happy breast retain Fond memory of this life of pain.

In gay attire, a glittering band, Five thousand maids shall round thee stand, And serve thee at thy beck and sign, If thou, fair Sita, wilt be mine."

Then forth her n.o.ble pa.s.sion broke As thus in turn the lady spoke: "Me, me the wife of Rama, him The lion lord with lion's limb, Strong as the sea, firm as the rock, Like Indra in the battle shock.

The lord of each auspicious sign, The glory of his princely line, Like some fair Bodh tree strong and tall, The n.o.blest and the best of all, Rama, the heir of happy fate Who keeps his word inviolate, Lord of the lion gait, possessed Of mighty arm and ample chest, Rama the lion-warrior, him Whose moon bright face no fear can dim, Rama, his bridled pa.s.sions' lord, The darling whom his sire adored,- Me, me the true and loving dame Of Rama, prince of deathless fame- Me wouldst thou vainly woo and press?

A jackal woo a lioness!

Steal from the sun his glory! such Thy hope Lord Rama's wife to touch.

Ha! Thou hast seen the trees of gold, The sign which dying eyes behold, Thus seeking, weary of thy life, To win the love of Rama's wife.

Fool! wilt thou dare to rend away The famished lion's bleeding prey, Or from the threatening jaws to take The fang of some envenomed snake?

What, wouldst thou shake with puny hand Mount Mandar,(501) towering o'er the land, Put poison to thy lips and think The deadly cup a harmless drink?

With pointed needle touch thine eye, A razor to thy tongue apply, Who wouldst pollute with impious touch The wife whom Rama loves so much?

Be round thy neck a millstone tied, And swim the sea from side to side; Or raising both thy hands on high Pluck sun and moon from yonder sky; Or let the kindled flame be pressed, Wrapt in thy garment, to thy breast; More wild the thought that seeks to win Rama's dear wife who knows not sin.

The fool who thinks with idle aim To gain the love of Rama's dame, With dark and desperate footing makes His way o'er points of iron stakes.

As Ocean to a bubbling spring, The lion to a fox, the king Of all the birds that ply the wing To an ign.o.ble crow As gold to lead of little price, As to the drainings of the rice The drink they quaff in Paradise, The Amrit's heavenly flow, As sandal dust with perfume sweet Is to the mire that soils our feet, A tiger to a cat, As the white swan is to the owl, The peac.o.c.k to the waterfowl, An eagle to a bat, Such is my lord compared with thee; And when with bow and arrows he, Mighty as Indra's self shall see His foeman, armed to slay, Thou, death-doomed like the fly that sips The oil that on the altar drips, Shalt cast the morsel from thy lips And lose thy half-won prey."

Thus in high scorn the lady flung The biting arrows of her tongue In bitter words that pierced and stung The rover of the night.

She ceased. Her gentle cheek grew pale, Her loosened limbs began to fail, And like a plantain in the gale She trembled with affright.

He terrible as Death stood nigh, And watched with fierce exulting eye The fear that shook her frame.

To terrify the lady more, He counted all his triumphs o'er, Proclaimed the t.i.tles that he bore, His pedigree and name.

Canto XLVIII. Ravan's Speech.

With knitted brow and furious eye The stranger made his fierce reply: "In me O fairest dame, behold The brother of the King of Gold.

The Lord of Ten Necks my t.i.tle, named Rava?, for might and valour famed.

G.o.ds and Gandharva hosts I scare; Snakes, spirits, birds that roam the air Fly from my coming, wild with fear, Trembling like men when Death is near.

Vaisrava? once, my brother, wrought To ire, encountered me and fought, But yielding to superior might Fled from his home in sore affright.

Lord of the man-drawn chariot, still He dwells on famed Kailasa's hill.

I made the vanquished king resign The glorious car which now is mine,- Pushpak, the far-renowned, that flies Will-guided through the buxom skies.

Celestial hosts by Indra led Flee from my face disquieted, And where my dreaded feet appear The wind is hushed or breathless is fear.

Where'er I stand, where'er I go The troubled waters cease to flow, Each spell-bound wave is mute and still And the fierce sun himself is chill.

Beyond the sea my Lanka stands Filled with fierce forms and giant bands, A glorious city fair to see As Indra's Amaravati.

A towering height of solid wall, Flas.h.i.+ng afar, surrounds it all, Its golden courts enchant the sight, And gates aglow with lazulite.

Steeds, elephants, and cars are there, And drums' loud music fills the air, Fair trees in lovely gardens grow Whose boughs with varied fruitage glow.

Thou, beauteous Queen, with me shalt dwell In halls that suit a princess well, Thy former fellows shall forget Nor think of women with regret, No earthly joy thy soul shall miss, And take its fill of heavenly bliss.

Of mortal Rama think no more, Whose terms of days will soon be o'er.

King Dasaratha looked in scorn On Rama though the eldest born, Sent to the woods the weakling fool, And set his darling son to rule.

What, O thou large-eyed dame, hast thou To do with fallen Rama now, From home and kingdom forced to fly, A wretched hermit soon to die?

Accept thy lover, nor refuse The giant king who fondly woos.

O listen, nor reject in scorn A heart by Kama's arrows torn.

If thou refuse to hear my prayer, Of grief and coming woe beware; For the sad fate will fall on thee Which came on hapless Urvasi, When with her foot she chanced to touch Pururavas, and sorrowed much.(502) My little finger raised in fight Were more than match for Rama's might.

O fairest, blithe and happy be With him whom fortune sends to thee."

Such were the words the giant said, And Sita's angry eyes were red.

She answered in that lonely place The monarch of the giant race:

"Art thou the brother of the Lord Of Gold by all the world adored, And sprung of that ill.u.s.trious seed Wouldst now attempt this evil deed?

I tell thee, impious Monarch, all The giants by thy sin will fall, Whose reckless lord and king thou art, With foolish mind and lawless heart.

Yea, one may hope to steal the wife Of Indra and escape with life.

But he who Rama's dame would tear From his loved side must needs despair.

Yea, one may steal fair Sachi, dame Of Him who shoots the thunder flame, May live successful in his aim And length of day may see; But hope, O giant King, in vain, Though cups of Amrit thou may drain, To shun the penalty and pain Of wronging one like me."

Canto XLIX. The Rape Of Sita.

The Rakshas monarch, thus addressed, His hands a while together pressed, And straight before her startled eyes Stood monstrous in his giant size.