The Ramayana Part 111

Thus roaming on like one distraught Still for his vanished love he sought, He searched in wood and hill and glade, By rock and brook and wild cascade.

Through groves with restless step he sped And left no spot unvisited.

Through lawns and woods of vast extent Still searching for his love he went With eager steps and fast.

For many a weary hour he toiled, Still in his fond endeavour foiled, Yet hoping to the last.

Canto LXII. Rama's Lament.

When all the toil and search was vain He sought his leafy home again.

'Twas empty still: all scattered lay The seats of gra.s.s in disarray.

He raised his shapely arms on high And spoke aloud with bitter cry: "Where is the Maithil dame?" he said, "O, whither has my darling fled?

Who can have borne away my dame, Or feasted on her tender frame?

If, Sita hidden by some tree, Thou joyest still to mock at me, Cease, cease thy cruel sport, and take Compa.s.sion, or my heart will break.

Bethink thee, love, the gentle fawns With whom thou playest on the lawns, Impatient for thy coming wait With streaming eyes disconsolate.

Reft of my love, I needs must go Hence to the shades weighed down by woe.

The king our sire will see me there, And cry, "O perjured Rama, where, Where is thy faith, that thou canst speed From exile ere the time decreed?"

Ah Sita, whither hast thou fled And left me here disquieted, A hapless mourner, reft of hope, Too feeble with my woe to cope?

E'en thus indignant Glory flies The wretch who stains his soul with lies.

If thou, my love, art lost to view, I in my woe must perish too."

Thus Rama by his grief distraught Wept for the wife he vainly sought, And Lakshma? whose fraternal breast Longed for his weal, the chief addressed Whose soul gave way beneath the pain When all his eager search was vain, Like some great elephant who stands Sinking upon the treacherous sands: "Not yet, O wisest chief, despair; Renew thy toil with utmost care.

This n.o.ble hill where trees are green Has many a cave and dark ravine.

The Maithil lady day by day Delighted in the woods to stray, Deep in the grove she wanders still, Or walks by blossom-covered rill, Or fish-loved river stealing through Tall cl.u.s.ters of the dark bamboo.

Or else the dame with arch design To prove thy mood, O Prince, and mine, Far in some sheltering thicket lies To frighten ere she meet our eyes.

Then come, renew thy labour, trace The lady to her lurking-place, And search the wood from side to side To know where Sita loves to bide.

Collect thy thoughts, O royal chief, Nor yield to unavailing grief."

Thus Lakshma?, by attention stirred, To fresh attempts his brother spurred, And Rama, as he ceased, began With Lakshma?'s aid each spot to scan.

In eager search their way they took Through wood, o'er hill, by pool and brook, They roamed each mount, nor spared to seek On ridge and crag and towering peak.

They sought the dame in every spot; But all in vain; they found her not.

Above, below, on every side They ranged the hill, and Rama cried, "O Lakshma?, O my brother still No trace of Sita on the hill!"

Then Lakshma? as he roamed the wood Beside his glorious brother stood, And while fierce grief his bosom burned This answer to the chief returned: "Thou, Rama, after toil and pain Wilt meet the Maithil dame again, As Vish?u, Bali's might subdued, His empire of the earth renewed."(508)

Then Rama cried in mournful tone, His spirit by his woe o'erthrown; "The wood is searched from side to side, No distant spot remains untried, No lilied pool, no streamlet where The lotus buds are fresh and fair.

Our eyes have searched the hill with all His caves and every waterfall,- But ah, not yet I find my wife, More precious than the breath of life."

As thus he mourned his vanished dame A mighty trembling seized his frame, And by o'erpowering grief a.s.sailed, His troubled senses reeled and failed.

Too great to bear his misery grew, And many a long hot sigh he drew, Then as he wept and sobbed and sighed, "O Sita, O my love!" he cried.

Then Lakshma?, joining palm to palm, Tried every art his woe to calm.

But Rama in his anguish heard Or heeded not one soothing word, Still for his spouse he mourned, and shrill Rang out his lamentation still.

Canto LXIII. Rama's Lament.

Thus for his wife in vain he sought: Then, his sad soul with pain distraught, The hero of the lotus eyes Filled all the air with frantic cries.

O'erpowered by love's strong influence, he His absent wife still seemed to see, And thus with accents weak and faint Renewed with tears his wild complaint:

"Thou, fairer than their bloom, my spouse, Art hidden by Asoka boughs.

Those blooms have power to banish care, But now they drive me to despair.

Thine arms are like the plantain's stem: Why let the plantain cover them?

Thou art not hidden, love; thy feet Betray thee in thy dark retreat.

Thou runnest in thy girlish sport To flowery trees, thy dear resort.

But cease, O cease, my love, I pray, To vex me with thy cruel play.

Such mockery in a holy spot Where hermits dwell beseems thee not.

Ah, now I see thy fickle mind To scornful mood too much inclined, Come, large-eyed beauty, I implore; Lone is the cot so dear before.

No, she is slain by giants; they Have stolen or devoured their prey, Or surely at my mournful cry My darling to her lord would fly.

O Lakshma?, see those troops of deer: In each sad eye there gleams a tear.

Those looks of woe too clearly say My consort is the giants' prey.

O n.o.blest, fairest of the fair, Where art thou, best of women, where?

This day will dark Kaikeyi find Fresh triumph for her evil mind, When I, who with my Sita came Return alone, without my dame.

But ne'er can I return to see Those chambers where my queen should be And hear the scornful people speak Of Rama as a coward weak.

For mine will be the coward's shame Who let the foeman steal his dame.

How can I seek my home, or brook Upon Videha's king to look?

How listen, when he bids me tell, My wanderings o'er, that all is well?

He, when I meet his eager view, Will mark that Sita comes not too, And when he hears the mournful tale His wildered sense will reel and fail.

"O Dasaratha" will he cry, "Blest in thy mansion in the sky!"

Ne'er to that town my steps shall bend, That town which Bharat's arms defend, For e'en the blessed homes above Would seem a waste without my love.

Leave me, my brother, here, I pray; To fair Ayodhya bend thy way.

Without my love I cannot bear To live one hour in blank despair.

Round Bharat's neck thy fond arms twine, And greet him with these words of mine: "Dear brother, still the power retain, And o'er the land as monarch reign."

With salutation next incline Before thy mother, his, and mine.

Still, brother, to my words attend, And with all care each dame befriend.

To my dear mother's ear relate My mournful tale and Sita's fate."

Thus Rama gave his sorrow vent, And from a heart which anguish rent, Mourned for his wife in loud lament,- Her of the glorious hair, From Lakshma?'s cheek the colour fled, And o'er his heart came sudden dread, Sick, faint, and sore disquieted By woe too great to bear.

Canto LXIV. Rama's Lament.

Reft of his love, the royal chief, Weighed down beneath his whelming grief, Desponding made his brother share His grievous burden of despair.

Over his sinking bosom rolled The flood of sorrow uncontrolled.

And as he wept and sighed, In mournful accents faint and slow With words congenial to his woe,

To Lakshma? thus he cried: "Brother, I ween, beneath the sun, Of all mankind there lives not one So full of sin, whose hand has done Such cursed deeds as mine.

For my sad heart with misery bleeds, As, guerdon of those evil deeds, Still greater woe to woe succeeds In never-ending line.

A life of sin I freely chose, And from my past transgression flows A ceaseless flood of bitter woes My folly to repay.

The fruit of sin has ripened fast, Through many a sorrow have I pa.s.sed, And now the crowning grief at last Falls on my head to-day.

From all my faithful friends I fled, My sire is numbered with the dead, My royal rank is forfeited, My mother far away.