The Ramayana Part 129

Then grieve no more, O Prince, but clear Thy bosom from all doubt and fear, For fate, inexorably stern, Thou hast no power to move or turn.

Thy princely Angad still will share My tender love, Sugriva's care; And to thy offspring shall be shown Affection that shall match thine own."

Canto XIX. Tara's Grief.

No answer gave the Vanar king To Rama's prudent counselling.

Battered and bruised by tree and stone, By Rama's arrow overthrown, Fainting upon the ground he lay, Gasping his troubled life away.

But Tara in the Vanar's hall Heard tidings of her husband's fall; Heard that a shaft from Rama's bow Had laid the royal Bali low.

Her darling Angad by her side, Distracted from her home she hied.

Then nigh the place of battle drew The Vanars, Angad's retinue.

They saw the bow-armed Rama: dread Fell on them, and they turned and fled.

Like helpless deer, their leaders slain, So wildly fled the startled train.

But Tara saw, and nearer pressed, And thus the flying band addressed: "O Vanars, ye who ever stand About our king, a trusty band, Where is the lion master? why Forsake ye thus your lord and fly?

Say, lies he dead upon the plain, A brother by a brother slain, Or pierced by shafts from Rama's bow That rain from far upon the foe?"

Thus Tara questioned, and was still: Then, wearers of each shape at will, The Vanars thus with one accord Answered the Lady of their lord: "Turn, Tara turn, and half undone Save Angad thy beloved son.

There Rama stands in death's disguise, And conquered Bali faints and dies.

He by whose strong arm, thick and fast, Uprooted trees and rocks were cast, Lies smitten by a shaft that came Resistless as the lightning flame.

When he, whose splendour once could vie With Indra's, regent of the sky, Fell by that deadly arrow, all The Vanars fled who marked his fall.

Let all our chiefs their succours bring, And Angad be anointed king; For all who come of Vanar race Will serve him set in Bali's place.

Or else our conquering foes to-day Within our wall will force their way, Polluting with their hostile feet The chambers of thy loved retreat.

Great fear is on us, all and one.

Those who have wives and who have none, They l.u.s.t for power, are fierce and bold, Or hate us for the strife of old."

She heard their speech as, sore afraid, Arrested in their flight, they stayed, And gave her answer as became The spirit of so true a dame: "Nay, what have I to do with pelf, With son, with kingdom, or with self, When he, my n.o.ble lord, who leads The Vanars like a lion, bleeds?

His high-souled victor will I meet, And throw me prostrate at his feet."

She hastened forth, her bosom rent With anguish, weeping as she went, And striking, mastered by her woes, Her head and breast with frantic blows.

She hurried to the field and found Her husband prostrate on the ground, Who quelled the hostile Vanars' might, Whose bank was never turned in flight: Whose arm a ma.s.sy rock could throw As Indra hurls his bolts below: Fierce as the rus.h.i.+ng tempest, loud As thunder from a labouring cloud: Whene'er he roared his voice of fear Struck terror on the boldest ear: Now slain, as, hungry for the prey, A tiger might a lion slay: Or when, his serpent foe to seek, Supar?a(600) with his furious beak Tears up a sacred hillock, long The reverence of a village throng, Its altar with their offerings spread, And the gay flag that waved o'erhead.

She looked and saw the victor stand Resting upon his bow his hand: And fierce Sugriva she descried, And Lakshma? by his brother's side.

She pa.s.sed them by, nor stayed to view, Swift to her husband's side she flew; Then as she looked, her strength gave way, And in the dust she fell and lay.

Then, as if startled ere the close Of slumber, from the earth she rose.

Upon her dying husband, round Whose soul the coils of Death were wound, Her eyes in agony she bent And called him with a shrill lament.

Sugriva, when he heard her cries, And saw the queen with weeping eyes, And youthful Angad standing there, His load of grief could hardly bear.

Canto XX. Tara's Lament.

Again she bent her to the ground, Her arms about her husband wound.

Sobbed on his breast, and sick and faint With anguish poured her wild complaint: "Brave in the charge of battle, boast And glory of the Vanar host, Why on the cold earth wilt thou lie And give no answer when I cry?

Up, warrior, from thy lowly bed!

A meeter couch for thee is spread.

It ill beseems a glorious king On the bare ground his limbs to fling.

Ah, surely must thy love be strong For her whom thou hast governed long, If thou, my hero, canst recline On her cold breast forsaking mine.

Or, famed for justice through the land, Thou on the road to heaven hast planned Some city fairer far than this To be thy new metropolis.

Are all our pleasures ended now, With those delicious hours which thou And I, dear lord, together spent In woods that breathed the honey's scent?

Whelmed in my sorrow's boundless sea, There is no joy, no hope, for me, When my beloved lord, who led The Vanars to the fight, is dead, My widowed heart is stern and cold.

Or, at the sight mine eyes behold, O'ermastered would it end this ache And in a thousand fragments break.

Ah n.o.ble Vanar, doomed to pay The penalty of all today- Sugriva from his home expelled, And Ruma(601) from his arms withheld.

Our Vanar race and thee to save, Wise counsel for thy weal I gave; But thou, by wildest folly stirred, Wouldst give no credence to my word, And now wilt woo the nymphs above, And shake their souls with pangs of love.

Ah, never could it be that thou Beneath Sugriva's power shouldst bow, Thy conqueror is none but Fate Whose mandates all who breathe await.

And does no thrill of anguish run Through the stern breast of Raghu's son, Whose base hand dealt a coward's blow, And smote thee fighting with thy foe?

Reft of my lord my days, alas!

In bitter bitter woe will pa.s.s: And I, long blest with every good, Must bear my dreary widowhood.

And when his uncle's brow is stern, When his fierce eyes with fury burn, Ah, what will be my Angad's fate, So fair and young and delicate?

Come, darling, for the last sad sight, Of thy dear sire who loved the right; For soon thine eyes will long in vain A look at that loved face to gain.

And, hero, as thy child draws near, With tender words his spirit cheer; Thy dying wishes gently speak, And kiss him on the brows and cheek.

High fame, I ween, has Rama won By this great deed his hand has done, His debt to brave Sugriva paid And kept the promise that he made.

Be happy, King Sugriva, lord Of Rama to thine arms restored: Enjoy uninterrupted reign, For he, thy foe, at length is slain.

Dost thou not hear me speak, and why Hast thou no word of soft reply?

Will thou not lift thine eyes and see These dames who look to none but thee?"

From their sad eyes, as Tara spoke, The floods of bitter sorrow broke: Then, pressing close to Angad's side, Each lifted up her voice and cried:

"How couldst thou leave thine Angad thus, And go, for ever go, from us- Thy child so dear in brave attire, Graced with the virtues of his sire?

If e'er in want of thought, O chief, One deed of mine have caused thee grief, Forgive my folly, I entreat, And with my head I touch thy feet."

Again the hapless Tara wept As to her husband's side she crept, And wild with sorrow and dismay Sat on the ground where Bali lay.

Canto XXI. Hanuman's Speech.

There, like a fallen star, the dame Fell by her lord's half lifeless frame; And Hanuman drew softly near, And strove her grieving heart to cheer:

"By changeless law our bliss and woe From ancient worth and folly flow.

What fruits soe'er we cull, the seeds Were scattered by our former deeds.(602) Why mourn another's mournful fate, And weep, thyself unfortunate?

Be calm, O thou whose heart is wise, For none deserves another's sighs.

Look up, with idle sorrow strive: Thy child, his heir, is yet alive.

Let needful rites be duly done, Nor in thy woe forget thy son.

Regard the law which all obey: They spring to life, they pa.s.s away.

Begin the task that bids thee rise, And stay these tears, for thou art wise.

Our lord the king is doomed to die, On whom ten million hearts rely.

Kind, liberal, patient, true, and just Was he in whom they place their trust, And now he seeks the land of those Who for the right subdue their foes.

Each Vanar lord with all his train, Each ranger of this wild domain, And Angad here, thy darling, see A governor and friend in thee.

These twain(603) whose hearts with sorrow ache The funeral rites shall undertake, And Angad by his mother's care Be king, his father's rightful heir.

Now let him pay, as laws require, His sacred duty to his sire, Nor one solemnity omit Of all that mighty kings befit.

And when thy fond eye sees thine own Dear Angad on his father's throne, Then, lightened of its load of pain, Thy spirit will have rest again."

She heard his speech, she heaved her head, Looked upon Hanuman and said: