The Ramayana Part 131

But when Sugriva saw her weep O'erwhelmed in sorrow's rus.h.i.+ng deep, Swift through his bosom pierced the sting Of anguish for the fallen king.

At the sad sight his eyes beheld A flood of bitter tears outwelled, And, with his bosom racked and rent, To Rama with his train he went.

He came with faltering steps and slow Where Rama held his mighty bow And arrow like a venomed snake, And to the son of Raghu spake: "Well hast thou kept, O King, thy vow: The promised fruit is gathered now.

But life is marred, my soul to-day Turns sickening from all joy away.

For, while this queen laments and sighs Amid a mourning people's cries, And Angad weeps his father slain, How can my heart delight to reign?

For outrage, fury, senseless pride, My brother, doomed of yore, has died.

Yet, Raghu's son, in bitter woe I mourn his fated overthrow.

Ah, better far in pain and ill To dwell on Rishyamuka still Than gain the heaven of G.o.ds and all Its pleasures by my brother's fall.

Did not he cry,-great-hearted foe,- "Go, for I will not slay thee, Go"?

With his brave soul those words agree: My speech, my deeds, are worthy me.

How can a brother counterweigh His grievous loss with joys of sway, And see with dull unpitying eye So brave and good a brother die?

His lofty soul was n.o.bly blind: My death alas, he ne'er designed; But I, urged blindly on by hate, Sought with his life my rage to sate.

He smote me with a splintered tree: I groaned aloud and turned to flee, From stern reproaches he forbore, And gently bade me sin no more.

Serene and dutiful and good He kept the laws of brotherhood: I, fierce and greedy, vengeful, base, Showed all the vices of our race.

Ah me, dear friend, my brother's fate Lays on my soul a crus.h.i.+ng weight: A sin no heart should e'er conceive, But at the thought each soul should grieve: Sin such as Indra's when his blow Laid heavenly Visvarupa(610) low.

Yet earth, the waters of the seas, The race of women and the trees Were fain upon themselves to take The weight of sin for Indra's sake.

But who a Vanar's soul will free, Or ease the load that crushes me?

Wretch that I am, I may not claim The reverence due to royal name.

How shall I reign supreme, or dare Affect the power I should not share?

Ah me, I sorrow for my sin, The ruin of my race and kin, Polluted by a hideous crime World-hated till the end of time.

Alas, the floods of sorrow roll With whelming force upon my soul: So gathers the descending rain In the deep hollow of the plain."

Canto XXV. Rama's Speech.

Then Raghu's son, whose feeling breast Shared the great woe that moved the rest, Strove with wise charm their grief to ease And gently spoke in words like these:

"You ne'er can raise the dead to bliss By agony of grief like this.

Cease your lament, nor leave undone The funeral task you may not shun.

As nature orders o'er the dead.

Your tributary tears are shed, But Fate, directing each event, Is still the lord preeminent.

Yes, all obey the changeless laws Of Fate the universal cause.

By Fate, the lives of all proceed, That governs every word and deed, None acts, none sees his hest obeyed, But each and all by Fate are swayed.

The world its ordered course maintains, And o'er that course Fate ever reigns.

Fate ne'er exceeds the rule of Fate: Is ne'er too swift, is ne'er too late, And making nature its ally Forgets no life, nor pa.s.ses by.

No kith and kin, no power and force Can check or stay its settled course, No friend or client, grace or charm, That victor of the world disarm.

So all who see with prudent eyes The hand of Fate must recognize, For virtue rules, or love, or gain, As Fate's unchanged decrees ordain.

Bali has died and won the meed That waits in heaven on n.o.ble deed, Throned in the seats the brave may reach By liberal hand and gentle speech, True to a warrior's duty, bold In fight, the hero lofty-souled Deigned not to guard his life: he died, And now in heaven is glorified.

Then cease these tears and wild despair: Turn to the task that claims your care, For Bali's is the glorious fate Which warriors count most fortunate."

When Rama's speech had found a close, Brave Lakshma?, terror of his foes, With wise and soothing words addressed Sugriva still with woe oppressed: "Arise Sugriva," thus he said, "Perform the service of the dead.

Prepare with Tara and her son That Bali's rites be duly done.

A store of funeral wood provide Which wind and sun and time have dried And richest sandal fit to grace The pyre of one of royal race.

With words of comfort soft and kind Console poor Angad's troubled mind, Nor let thy heart be thus cast down, For thine is now the Vanars' town.

Let Angad's care a wreath supply, And raiment rich with varied dye, And oil and perfumes for the fire, And all the solemn rites require.

Go, hasten to the town, O King, And Tara's little quickly bring.

A virtue is despatch: and speed Is best of all in hour of need.

Go, let a chosen band prepare The litter of the dead to bear.

For stout and tall and strong of limb Must be the chiefs who carry him."

He spoke,-his friends' delight and pride,- Then stood again by Rama's side.

When Tara(611) heard the words he said Within the town he quickly sped, And brought, on stalwart shoulders laid, The litter for the rites arrayed, Framed like a car for G.o.ds, complete With painted sides and royal seat, With latticed windows deftly made, And golden birds and trees inlaid: Well joined and wrought in every part, A marvel of ingenious art.

Where pleasure mounds in carven wood And many a graven figure stood.

The best of jewels o'er it hung, And wreaths of flowers around it clung, And over all was raised on high A canopy of saffron dye, While like the sun of morning shone The brilliant blooms that lay thereon.

That glorious litter Rama eyed.

And spake to Lakshma? by his side: "Let Bali on the bier be placed And with all funeral service graced."

Sugriva then with many a tear Drew Bali's body to the bier Whereon, with weeping Angad's aid, The relics of the chief were laid Neath many a vesture's varied fold, And wreaths and ornaments and gold.

Then King Sugriva bade them speed The obsequies by law decreed: "Let Vanars lead the way and throw Rich gems around them as they go, And be the chosen bearers near Behind them laden with the bier.

No costly rite may you deny, Used when the proudest monarchs die: As for a king of widest sway.

Perform his obsequies to-day."

Sugriva gave his high behest; Then Princely Tara and the rest, With little Angad weeping, led The long procession of the dead.

Behind the funeral litter came, With Tara first, each widowed dame, In tears and shrieks her loss deplored, Add cried aloud, My lord! My lord!

While wood and hill and valley sent In echoes back the shrill lament.

Then on a low and sandy isle Was reared the hero's funeral pile By crowds of toiling Vanars, where The mountain stream ran fresh and fair, The Vanar chiefs, a n.o.ble band, Had laid the litter on the sand, And stood a little s.p.a.ce apart, Each mourning in his inmost heart.

But Tara, when her weeping eye Saw Bali, on the litter lie, Laid his dear head upon her lap, And wailed aloud her dire mishap; "O mighty Vanar, lord and king, To whose fond breast I loved to cling, Of goodly arms, wise, brave, and bold, Rise, look upon me as of old.

Rise up, my sovereign, dost thou see A crowd of subjects weep for thee?

Still o'er thy face, though breath has fled, The joyous light of life is spread: Thus around the sun, although he set, A crimson glory lingers yet.

Death clad in Rama's form to-day Hast dragged thee from the world away.

One shaft from his tremendous bow Dooms us to widowhood and woe.

Hast thou, O Vanar King, no eyes Thy weeping wives to recognize, Who for the length of way unmeet Have followed thee with weary feet?

Yet every moon-faced beauty here By thee, O King was counted dear.

Lord of the Vanar race, hast thou No eyes to see Sugriva now?

About thee stands in mournful mood A sore-afflicted mult.i.tude, And Tara and thy lords of state Around their monarch weep and wait.

Arise my lord, with gentle speech, As was thy wont, dismissing each, Then in the forest will we play And love shall make our spirits gay."

The Vanar dames raised Tara, drowned In floods of sorrow, from the ground; And Angad with Sugriva's aid, O'erwhelmed with anguish and dismayed, Weeping for his departed sire, Placed Bali's body on the pyre: Then lit the flame, and round the dead Pa.s.sed slowly with a mourner's tread.

Thus with full rites the funeral train Performed the service for the slain, Then sought the flowing stream and made Libations to the parted shade.

There, setting Angad first in place, The chieftains of the Vanar race, With Tara and Sugriva, shed The water that delights the dead.

Canto XXVI. The Coronation.

Each Vanar councillor and peer In crowded numbers gathered near Sugriva, mournful king, while yet His vesture from the wave was wet, Before the chief of Raghu's seed Unwearied in each arduous deed, They stood and raised the reverent hand As saints before Lord Brahma stand.

Then Hanuman of ma.s.sive mould, Like some tall hill of glistering gold, Son of the G.o.d whose wild blasts shake The forest, thus to Rama spake: "By thy kind favour, O my lord, Sugriva, to his home restored Triumphant, has regained to-day His rank and power and royal sway.

He now will call each faithful friend, Enter the city, and attend With sage advice and prudent care To every task that waits him there.

Then balm and unguent shall anoint Our monarch, as the laws appoint, And gems and precious wreaths shall be His grateful offering, King, to thee.

Do thou, O Rama, with thy friend Thy steps within the city bend; Our ruler on his throne install, And with thy presence cheer us all."

Then, skilled in lore and arts that guide The speaker, Raghu's son replied: "For fourteen years I might not break The mandate that my father spake; Nor can I, till that time be fled, The street of town or village tread.

Let King Sugriva seek the town Most worthy of her high renown, There let him be without delay Anointed, and begin his sway."

This answered, to Sugriva then Thus spake anew the king of men: "Do thou who knowest right ordain Prince Angad consort of thy reign; For he is n.o.ble, true, and bold, And trained a righteous course to hold Gifts like his sire's that youth adorn Born eldest to the eldest born.

This is the month of Srava?,(612) first Of those that see the rain-clouds burst.