The Ramayana Part 15

Bound by a vow I left her side And to the Perfect convent hied.

There, by the aid 'twas thine to lend, Made perfect, all my labours end.

Thus, mighty Prince, I now have told My race and lineage, high and old, And local tales of long ago Which thou, O Rama, fain wouldst know.

As I have sate rehearsing thus The midnight hour is come on us.

Now, Rama, sleep, that nothing may Our journey of to-morrow stay.

No leaf on any tree is stirred: Hushed in repose are beast and bird: Where'er you turn, on every side, Dense shades of night the landscape hide, The light of eve is fled: the skies, Thick-studded with their host of eyes, Seem a star-forest overhead, Where signs and constellations spread.

Now rises, with his pure cold ray, The moon that drives the shades away, And with his gentle influence brings Joy to the hearts of living things.

Now, stealing from their lairs, appear The beasts to whom the night is dear.

Now spirits walk, and every power That revels in the midnight hour."

The mighty hermit's tale was o'er, He closed his lips and spoke no more.

The holy men on every side, "Well done! well done," with reverence cried; "The mighty men of Kusa's seed Were ever famed for righteous deed.

Like Brahma's self in glory s.h.i.+ne The high-souled lords of Kusa's line, And thy great name is sounded most, O Saint, amid the n.o.ble host.

And thy dear sister-fairest she Of streams, the high-born Kausiki- Diffusing virtue where she flows, New splendour on thy lineage throws."

Thus by the chief of saints addressed The son of Gadhi turned to rest; So, when his daily course is done, Sinks to his rest the beaming sun.

Rama with Lakshma?, somewhat stirred To marvel by the tales they heard, Turned also to his couch, to close His eyelids in desired repose.

Canto x.x.xVI. The Birth Of Ganga.

The hours of night now waning fast On Sona's pleasant sh.o.r.e they pa.s.sed.

Then, when the dawn began to break, To Rama thus the hermit spake: "The light of dawn is breaking clear, The hour of morning rites is near.

Rise, Rama, rise, dear son, I pray, And make thee ready for the way."

Then Rama rose, and finished all His duties at the hermit's call, Prepared with joy the road to take, And thus again in question spake: "Here fair and deep the Sona flows, And many an isle its bosom shows: What way, O Saint, will lead us o'er And land us on the farther sh.o.r.e?"

The saint replied: "The way I choose Is that which pious hermits use."

For many a league they journeyed on Till, when the sun of mid-day shone, The hermit-haunted flood was seen Of Jahnavi,(177) the Rivers' Queen.

Soon as the holy stream they viewed, Thronged with a white-winged mult.i.tude Of sarases(178) and swans,(179) delight Possessed them at the lovely sight; And then prepared the hermit band To halt upon that holy strand.

They bathed as Scripture bids, and paid Oblations due to G.o.d and shade.

To Fire they burnt the offerings meet, And sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.

Then pure and pleased they sate around Saint Visvamitra on the ground.

The holy men of lesser note, In due degree, sate more remote, While Raghu's sons took nearer place By virtue of their rank and race.

Then Rama said: "O Saint, I yearn The three-pathed Ganga's tale to learn."

Thus urged, the sage recounted both The birth of Ganga and her growth: "The mighty hill with metals stored, Himalaya, is the mountains' lord, The father of a lovely pair Of daughters fairest of the fair: Their mother, offspring of the will Of Meru, everlasting hill, Mena, Himalaya's darling, graced With beauty of her dainty waist.

Ganga was elder-born: then came The fair one known by Uma's name.

Then all the G.o.ds of heaven, in need Of Ganga's help their vows to speed, To great Himalaya came and prayed The mountain King to yield the maid.

He, not regardless of the weal Of the three worlds, with holy zeal His daughter to the Immortals gave, Ganga whose waters cleanse and save, Who roams at pleasure, fair and free, Purging all sinners, to the sea.

The three-pathed Ganga thus obtained, The G.o.ds their heavenly homes regained.

Long time the sister Uma pa.s.sed In vows austere and rigid fast, And the king gave the devotee Immortal Rudra's(180) bride to be, Matching with that unequalled Lord His Uma through the worlds adored.

So now a glorious station fills Each daughter of the King of Hills: One honoured as the n.o.blest stream, One mid the G.o.ddesses supreme.

Thus Ganga, King Himalaya's child, The heavenly river, undefiled, Rose bearing with her to the sky Her waves that bless and purify."

[I am compelled to omit Cantos x.x.xVII and x.x.xVIII, THE GLORY OF UMa, and THE BIRTH OF KaRTIKEYA, as both in subject and language offensive to modern taste. They will be found in Schlegel's Latin translation.]

Canto x.x.xIX. The Sons Of Sagar.

The saint in accents sweet and clear Thus told his tale for Rama's ear, And thus anew the holy man A legend to the prince began: "There reigned a pious monarch o'er Ayodhya in the days of yore: Sagar his name: no child had he, And children much he longed to see.

His honoured consort, fair of face, Sprang from Vidarbha's royal race, Kesini, famed from early youth For piety and love of truth.

Arish?anemi's daughter fair, With whom no maiden might compare In beauty, though the earth is wide, Sumati, was his second bride.

With his two queens afar he went, And weary days in penance spent, Fervent, upon Himalaya's hill Where springs the stream called Bhrigu' rill.

Nor did he fail that saint to please With his devout austerities.

And, when a hundred years had fled, Thus the most truthful Bhrigu said: "From thee, O Sagar, blameless King, A mighty host of sons shall spring, And thou shalt win a glorious name Which none, O Chief, but thou shall claim.

One of thy queens a son shall bear, Maintainer of thy race and heir; And of the other there shall be Sons sixty thousand born to thee."

Thus as he spake, with one accord, To win the grace of that high lord, The queens, with palms together laid, In humble supplication prayed: "Which queen, O Brahman, of the pair, The many, or the one shall bear?

Most eager, Lord, are we to know, And as thou sayest be it so."

With his sweet speech the saint replied: "Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide.

Your own discretion freely use Which shall the one or many choose: One shall the race and name uphold, The host be famous, strong, and bold.

Which will have which?" Then Kesini The mother of one heir would be.

Sumati, sister of the king(181) Of all the birds that ply the wing, To that ill.u.s.trious Brahman sued That she might bear the mult.i.tude Whose fame throughout the world should sound For mighty enterprise renowned.

Around the saint the monarch went, Bowing his head, most reverent.

Then with his wives, with willing feet, Resought his own imperial seat.

Time pa.s.sed. The elder consort bare A son called Asamanj, the heir.

Then Sumati, the younger, gave Birth to a gourd,(182) O hero brave, Whose rind, when burst and cleft in two, Gave sixty thousand babes to view.

All these with care the nurses laid In jars of oil; and there they stayed, Till, youthful age and strength complete, Forth speeding from each dark retreat, All peers in valour, years, and might, The sixty thousand came to light.

Prince Asamanj, brought up with care, Scourge of his foes, was made the heir.

But liegemen's boys he used to cast To Sarju's waves that hurried past, Laughing the while in cruel glee Their dying agonies to see.

This wicked prince who aye withstood The counsel of the wise and good, Who plagued the people in his hate, His father banished from the state.

His son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall, Was Ansuman, beloved of all.

Long years flew by. The king decreed To slay a sacrificial steed.

Consulting with his priestly band He vowed the rite his soul had planned, And, Veda skilled, by their advice Made ready for the sacrifice.

Canto XL. The Cleaving Of The Earth.

The hermit ceased: the tale was done: Then in a transport Raghu's son Again addressed the ancient sire Resplendent as a burning fire: "O holy man, I fain would hear The tale repeated full and clear How he from whom my sires descend Brought the great rite to happy end."

The hermit answered with a smile: "Then listen, son of Raghu, while My legendary tale proceeds To tell of high-souled Sagar's deeds.

Within the s.p.a.cious plain that lies From where Himalaya's heights arise To where proud Vindhya's rival chain Looks down upon the subject plain- A land the best for rites declared(183)- His sacrifice the king prepared.

And Ansuman the prince-for so Sagar advised-with ready bow Was borne upon a mighty car To watch the steed who roamed afar.

But Indra, monarch of the skies, Veiling his form in demon guise, Came down upon the appointed day And drove the victim horse away.

Reft of the steed the priests, distressed, The master of the rite addressed: "Upon the sacred day by force A robber takes the victim horse.

Haste, King! now let the thief be slain; Bring thou the charger back again: The sacred rite prevented thus Brings scathe and woe to all of us.

Rise, monarch, and provide with speed That naught its happy course impede."

King Sagar in his crowded court Gave ear unto the priests' report.

He summoned straightway to his side His sixty thousand sons, and cried: "Brave sons of mine, I knew not how These demons are so mighty now: The priests began the rite so well All sanctified with prayer and spell.

If in the depths of earth he hide, Or lurk beneath the ocean's tide, Pursue, dear sons, the robber's track; Slay him and bring the charger back.

The whole of this broad earth explore, Sea-garlanded, from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e: Yea, dig her up with might and main Until you see the horse again.