The Ramayana Part 144

I might this day the boon bestow And bid again thy pinions grow, But wait until thy saving deed The nations from their fear have freed.

Then for this glorious aid of thine The princes of Ikshvaku's line, And G.o.ds above and saints below Eternal grat.i.tude shall owe.

Fain would mine aged eyes behold That pair of whom my lips have told, Yet wearied here I must not stay, But leave my frame and pa.s.s away."

Canto LXIII. Sampati's Story.

"With this and many a speech beside My failing heart he fortified, With glorious hope my breast inspired, And to his holy home retired.

I scaled the mountain height, to view The region round, and looked for you.

In ceaseless watchings night and day A hundred seasons pa.s.sed away, And by the sage's words consoled I wait the hour and chance foretold.

But since Nisakar sought the skies.

And cast away all earthly ties, Full many a care and doubt has pressed With grievous weight upon my breast.

But for the saint who turned aside My purpose I had surely died.

Those hopeful words the hermit spake, That bid me live for Rama's sake, Dispel my anguish as the light Of lamp and torch disperse the night."

He ceased: and in the Vanars' view Forth from his side young pinions grew, And boundless rapture filled his breast As thus the chieftains he addressed: "Joy, joy! the pinions, which the Lord Of Day consumed, are now restored Through the dear grace & boundless might Of that ill.u.s.trious anchorite.

The fire of youth within me burns, And all my wonted strength returns.

Onward, ye Vanars, toil strive, And you shall find the dame alive.

Look on these new-found wings, and hence Be strong in surest confidence."

Swift from the crag he sprang to try His pinions in his native sky.

His words the chieftains' doubts had stilled, And every heart with courage filled.(778)

Canto LXIV. The Sea.

Shouts of triumphant joy outrang As to their feet the Vanars sprang: And, on the mighty task intent, Swift to the sea their steps they bent.

They stood and gazed upon the deep, Whose billows with a roar and leap On the sea banks ware wildly hurled,- The mirror of the mighty world.

There on the strand the Vanars stayed And with sad eyes the deep surveyed, Here, as in play, his billows rose, And there he slumbered in repose.

Here leapt the boisterous waters, high As mountains, menacing the sky, And wild infernal forms between The ridges of the waves were seen.

They saw the billows rave and swell, And their sad spirits sank and fell; For ocean in their deep despair Seemed boundless as the fields of air.

Then n.o.ble Angad spake to cheer The Vanars and dispel their fear: "Faint not: despair should never find Admittance to a n.o.ble mind.

Despair, a serpent's mortal bite, Benumbs the hero's power and might."

Then pa.s.sed the weary night, and all a.s.sembled at their prince's call, And every lord of high estate Was gathered round him for debate.

Bright was the chieftains' glorious band Round Angad on the ocean strand, As when the mighty Storm-G.o.ds meet Round Indra on his golden seat.

Then princely Angad looked on each, And thus began his prudent speech: "What chief of all our host will leap A hundred leagues across the deep?

Who, O ill.u.s.trious Vanars, who Will make Sugriva's promise true, And from our weight of fear set free The leaders of our band and me?

To whom, O warriors, shall we owe A sweet release from pain and woe, And proud success, and happy lives With our dear children and our wives, Again permitted by his grace To look with joy on Rama's face, And n.o.ble Lakshma?, and our lord The king, to our sweet homes restored?"

Thus to the gathered lords he spoke; But no reply the silence broke.

Then with a sterner voice he cried: "O chiefs, the nation's boast and pride, Whom valour strength and power adorn, Of most ill.u.s.trious lineage born, Where'er you will you force a way, And none your rapid course can stay.

Now come, your several powers declare.

And who this desperate leap will dare?"

Canto LXV. The Council.

But none of all the host was found To clear the sea with desperate bound, Though each, as Angad bade, declared His proper power and what he dared.(779) Then spake good Jambavan the sage, Chief of them all for reverend age; "I, Vanar chieftains, long ago Limbs light to leap could likewise show, But now on frame and spirit weighs The burthen of my length of days.

Still task like this I may not slight, When Rama and our king unite.

So listen while I tell, O friends, What lingering strength mine age attends.

If my poor leap may aught avail, Of ninety leagues, I will not fail.

Far other strength in youth's fresh prime I boasted, in the olden time, When, at Prahlada's(780) solemn rite, I circled in my rapid flight Lord Vish?u, everlasting G.o.d, When through the universe he trod.

But now my limbs are weak and old, My youth is fled, its fire is cold, And these exhausted nerves to strain In such a task were idle pain."

Then Angad due obeisance paid, And to the chief his answer made: "Then I, ye n.o.ble Vanars, I Myself the mighty leap will try: Although perchance the power I lack To leap from Lanka's island back."

Thus the impetuous chieftain cried, And Jambavan the sage replied: "Whate'er thy power and might may be, This task, O Prince, is not for thee.

Kings go not forth themselves, but send The servants who their best attend.

Thou art the darling and the boast, The honoured lord of all the host.

In thee the root, O Angad, lies Of our appointed enterprise; And thee, on whom our hopes depend, Our care must cherish and defend."

Then Bali's n.o.ble son replied: "Needs must I go, whate'er betide, For, if no chief this exploit dare, What waits us all save blank despair,- Upon the ground again to lie In hopeless misery, fast, and die?

For not a hope of life I see If we neglect our king's decree."

Then spoke the aged chief again: "Nay our attempt shall not be vain, For to the task will I incite A chieftain of sufficient might."

Canto LXVI. Hanuman.

The chieftain turned his glances where The legions sat in mute despair; And then to Hanuman, the best Of Vanar lords, these words addressed: "Why still, and silent, and apart, O hero of the dauntless heart?

Thou keepest treasured in thy mind The laws that rule the Vanar kind, Strong as our king Sugriva, brave As Rama's self to slay or save.

Through every land thy praise is heard, Famous as that ill.u.s.trious bird, Arish?anemi's son,(781) the king Of every fowl that plies the wing.

Oft have I seen the monarch sweep With sounding pinions o'er the deep, And in his mighty talons bear Huge serpents struggling through the air.

Thy arms, O hero, match in might The ample wings he spreads for flight; And thou with him mayest well compare In power to do, in heart to dare.

Why, rich in wisdom, power, and skill, O hero, art thou lingering still?

An Apsaras(782) the fairest found Of nymphs for heavenly charms renowned, Sweet Punjikasthala, became A n.o.ble Vanar's wedded dame.

Her heavenly t.i.tle heard no more, Anjana was the name she bore, When, cursed by G.o.ds, from heaven she fell In Vanar form on earth to dwell, New-born in mortal shape the child Of Kunjar monarch of the wild.

In youthful beauty wondrous fair, A crown of flowers about her hair, In silken robes of richest dye She roamed the hills that kiss the sky.

Once in her tinted garments dressed She stood upon the mountain crest, The G.o.d of Wind beside her came, And breathed upon the lovely dame.

And as he fanned her robe aside The wondrous beauty that he eyed In rounded lines of breast and limb And neck and shoulder ravished him; And captured by her peerless charms He strained her in his amorous arms.

Then to the eager G.o.d she cried In trembling accents, terrified: "Whose impious love has wronged a spouse So constant in her nuptial vows?"

He heard, and thus his answer made: "O, be not troubled, nor afraid, But trust, and thou shalt know ere long My love has done thee, sweet, no wrong, So strong and brave and wise shall be The glorious child I give to thee.

Might shall be his that naught can tire, And limbs to spring as springs his sire."

Thus spoke the G.o.d; the conquered dame Rejoiced in heart nor feared the shame.

Down in a cave beneath the earth The happy mother gave thee birth.

Once o'er the summit of the wood Before thine eyes the new sun stood.

Thou sprangest up in haste to seize What seemed the fruitage of the trees.

Up leapt the child, a wondrous bound, Three hundred leagues above the ground, And, though the angered Day-G.o.d shot His fierce beams on him, feared him not.