The Ramayana Part 14

They travelled far, till in the west The sun was speeding to his rest, And made, their portioned journey o'er, Their halt on Sona's(171) distant sh.o.r.e.

The hermits bathed when sank the sun, And every rite was duly done, Oblations paid to Fire, and then Sate round their chief the holy men.

Rama and Lakshma? lowly bowed In reverence to the hermit crowd, And Rama, having sate him down Before the saint of pure renown, With humble palms together laid His eager supplication made: "What country, O my lord, is this, Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?

Deign fully, O thou mighty Seer, To tell me, for I long to hear."

Moved by the prayer of Rama, he Told forth the country's history.

Canto x.x.xIV. Brahmadatta.

"A king of Brahma's seed who bore The name of Kusa reigned of yore.

Just, faithful to his vows, and true, He held the good in honour due.

His bride, a queen of n.o.ble name, Of old Vidarbha's(172) monarchs came.

Like their own father, children four, All valiant boys, the lady bore.

In glorious deeds each nerve they strained, And well their Warrior part sustained.

To them most just, and true, and brave, Their father thus his counsel gave: "Beloved children, ne'er forget Protection is a prince's debt: The n.o.ble work at once begin, High virtue and her fruits to win."

The youths, to all the people dear, Received his speech with willing ear; And each went forth his several way, Foundations of a town to lay.

Kusamba, prince of high renown, Was builder of Kausambi's town, And Kusanabha, just and wise, Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise.

Amurtarajas chose to dwell In Dharmara?ya's citadel, And Vasu bade his city fair The name of Girivraja bear.(173) This fertile spot whereon we stand Was once the high-souled Vasu's land.

Behold! as round we turn our eyes, Five lofty mountain peaks arise.

See! bursting from her parent hill, Sumagadhi, a lovely rill, Bright gleaming as she flows between The mountains, like a wreath is seen, And then through Magadh's plains and groves With many a fair maeander roves.

And this was Vasu's old domain, The fertile Magadh's broad champaign, Which smiling fields of tilth adorn And diadem with golden corn.

The queen Ghritachi, nymph most fair, Married to Kusanabha, bare A hundred daughters, lovely-faced, With every charm and beauty graced.

It chanced the maidens, bright and gay As lightning-flashes on a day Of rain time, to the garden went With song and play and merriment, And there in gay attire they strayed, And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.

The G.o.d of Wind who roves at will All places, as he lists, to fill, Saw the young maidens dancing there, Of faultless shape and mien most fair.

"I love you all, sweet girls," he cried, "And each shall be my darling bride.

Forsake, forsake your mortal lot, And gain a life that withers not.

A fickle thing is youth's brief span, And more than all in mortal man.

Receive unending youth, and be Immortal, O my loves, with me."

The hundred girls, to wonder stirred, The wooing of the Wind-G.o.d heard, Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside, And with one voice they thus replied: "O mighty Wind, free spirit who All life pervadest, through and through, Thy wondrous power we maidens know; Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so?

Our sire is Kusanabha, King; And we, forsooth, have charms to bring A G.o.d to woo us from the skies; But honour first we maidens prize.

Far may the hour, we pray, be hence, When we, O thou of little sense, Our truthful father's choice refuse, And for ourselves our husbands choose.

Our honoured sire our lord we deem, He is to us a G.o.d supreme, And they to whom his high decree May give us shall our husbands be."

He heard the answer they returned, And mighty rage within him burned.

On each fair maid a blast he sent: Each stately form he bowed and bent.

Bent double by the Wind-G.o.d's ire They sought the palace of their sire, There fell upon the ground with sighs, While tears and shame were in their eyes.

The king himself, with troubled brow, Saw his dear girls so fair but now, A mournful sight all bent and bowed, And grieving thus he cried aloud: "What fate is this, and what the cause?

What wretch has scorned all heavenly laws?

Who thus your forms could curve and break?

You struggle, but no answer make."

They heard the speech of that wise king Of their misfortune questioning.

Again the hundred maidens sighed, Touched with their heads his feet, and cried: "The G.o.d of Wind, pervading s.p.a.ce, Would bring on us a foul disgrace, And choosing folly's evil way From virtue's path in scorn would stray.

But we in words like these reproved The G.o.d of Wind whom pa.s.sion moved: "Farewell, O Lord! A sire have we, No women uncontrolled and free.

Go, and our sire's consent obtain If thou our maiden hands wouldst gain.

No self-dependent life we live: If we offend, our fault forgive."

But led by folly as a slave, He would not hear the rede we gave, And even as we gently spoke We felt the Wind-G.o.d's crus.h.i.+ng stroke."

The pious king, with grief distressed, The n.o.ble hundred thus addressed: "With patience, daughters, bear your fate, Yours was a deed supremely great When with one mind you kept from shame The honour of your father's name.

Patience, when men their anger vent, Is woman's praise and ornament; Yet when the G.o.ds inflict the blow Hard is it to support the woe.

Patience, my girls, exceeds all price: 'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice.

Patience is virtue, patience fame: Patience upholds this earthly frame.

And now, I think, is come the time To wed you in your maiden prime.

Now, daughters, go where'er you will: Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill."

The maidens went, consoled, away: The best of kings, that very day, Summoned his ministers of state About their marriage to debate.

Since then, because the Wind-G.o.d bent The damsels' forms for punishment, That royal town is known to fame By Kanyakubja's(174) borrowed name.

There lived a sage called Chuli then, Devoutest of the sons of men; His days in penance rites he spent, A glorious saint, most continent.

To him absorbed in tasks austere The child of Urmila drew near, Sweet Somada, the heavenly maid And lent the saint her pious aid.

Long time near him the maiden spent, And served him meek and reverent, Till the great hermit, pleased with her, Thus spoke unto his minister: "Grateful am I for all thy care: Blest maiden, speak, thy wish declare."

The sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to see The favour of the devotee, And to that eloquent old man, Most eloquent she thus began: "Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained, Close union with the G.o.dhead gained.

I long, O Saint, to see a son By force of holy penance won.

Unwed, a maiden life I live: A son to me, thy suppliant, give."

The saint with favour heard her prayer, And gave a son exceeding fair.

Him, Chuli's spiritual child, His mother Brahmadatta(175) styled.

King Brahmadatta, rich and great, In Kampili maintained his state, Ruling, like Indra in his bliss, His fortunate metropolis.

King Kusanabha planned that he His hundred daughters' lord should be.

To him, obedient to his call, The happy monarch gave them all.

Like Indra then he took the hand Of every maiden of the band.

Soon as the hand of each young maid In Brahmadatta's palm was laid, Deformity and cares away, She shone in beauty bright and gay.

Their freedom from the Wind-G.o.d's might Saw Kusanabha with delight.

Each glance that on their forms he threw Filled him with raptures ever new.

Then when the rites were all complete, With highest marks of honour meet The bridegroom with his brides he sent To his great seat of government.

The nymph received with pleasant speech Her daughters; and, embracing each, Upon their forms she fondly gazed, And royal Kusanabha praised.

Canto x.x.xV. Visvamitra's Lineage.

"The rites were o'er, the maids were wed, The bridegroom to his home was sped.

The sonless monarch bade prepare A sacrifice to gain an heir.

Then Kusa, Brahma's son, appeared, And thus King Kusanabha cheered: "Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son Like thine own self, O holy one.

Through him for ever, Gadhi named, Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed."

He spoke, and vanished from the sight To Brahma's world of endless light.

Time fled, and, as the saint foretold, Gadhi was born, the holy-souled.

My sire was he; through him I trace My line from royal Kusa's race.

My sister-elder-born was she- The pure and good Satyavati,(176) Was to the great Richika wed.

Still faithful to her husband dead, She followed him, most n.o.ble dame, And, raised to heaven in human frame, A pure celestial stream became.

Down from Himalaya's snowy height, In floods for ever fair and bright, My sister's holy waves are hurled To purify and glad the world.

Now on Himalaya's side I dwell Because I love my sister well.

She, for her faith and truth renowned, Most loving to her husband found, High-fated, firm in each pure vow, Is queen of all the rivers now.