The Ramayana Part 182

Cast down, rash boy, that useless bow: Preserve thy life, uninjured go."

He ceased: and stirred by wrath & pride Sumitra's n.o.ble son replied: "By warlike deed, not words alone, The valour of the brave is shown.

Cease with vain boasts my scorn to move, And with thine arm thy prowess prove.

Borne on thy car, with sword and bow, With all thine arms, thy valour show.

Fight, and my deadly shafts this day Low in the dust thy head shall lay, And, rus.h.i.+ng fast in ceaseless flood, Shall rend thy flesh and drink thy blood."

His giant foe no answer made, But on his string an arrow laid.

He raised his arm, the cord he drew, At Lakshma?'s breast the arrow flew.

Sumitra's son, his foemen's dread, Shot a fleet shaft with crescent head, Which cleft that arrow pointed well, And harmless to the earth it fell.

A shower of shafts from Lakshma?'s bow Fell fast and furious on the foe Who quailed not as the missiles smote With idle force his iron coat.

Then came the friendly Wind-G.o.d near, And whispered thus in Lakshma?'s ear: "Such shafts as these in vain a.s.sail Thy foe's impenetrable mail.

A more tremendous missile try, Or never may the giant die.

Employ the mighty spell, and aim The weapon known by Brahma's name."

He ceased; Sumitra's son obeyed: On his great bow the shaft was laid, And with a roar like thunder, true As Indra's flas.h.i.+ng bolt, it flew.

The giant poured his shafts like rain To check its course, but all in vain.

With spear and mace and sword he tried To turn the fiery dart aside.

Winged with a force which naught could check, It smote the monster in the neck, And, sundered from his shoulders, rolled To earth his head and helm of gold.

Canto LXXII. Ravan's Speech.

The giants bent, in rage and grief, Their eyes upon the fallen chief: Then flying wild with fear and pale To Rava? bore the mournful tale.

He heard how Atikaya died, Then turned him to his lords, and cried: "Where are they now-my bravest-where, Wise to consult and prompt to dare?

Where is Dhumraksha, skilled to wield All weapons in the battle field?

Akampan, and Prahasta's might, And k.u.mbhakar?a bold in fight?

These, these and many a Rakshas more, Each master of the arms he bore, Who every foe in fight o'erthrew, The victors none could e'er subdue, Have perished by the might of one, The vengeful arm of Raghu's son.

In vain I cast mine eyes around, No match for Rama here is found, No chief to stand before that bow Whose deadly shafts have caused our woe.

Now, warriors, to your stations hence; Provide ye for the wall's defence, And be the Asoka garden, where The lady lies, your special care.

Be every lane and pa.s.sage barred, Set at each gate a chosen guard.

And with your troops, where danger calls, Be ready to defend the walls.

Each movement of the Vanars mark; Observe them when the skies grow dark; Be ready in the dead of night, And ere the morning bring the light.

Taught by our loss we may not scorn These legions of the forest-born."

He ceased: the Rakshas lords obeyed; Each at his post his troops arrayed: And, torn with pangs that pierced him through The monarch from the hall withdrew.

Canto LXXIII. Indrajit's Victory.

But Indrajit the fierce and bold With words like these his sire consoled: "Dismiss, O King, thy grief and dread, And be not thus disquieted.

Against this numbing sorrow strive, For Indrajit is yet alive; And none in battle may withstand The fury of his strong right hand.

This day, O sire, thine eyes shall see The sons of Raghu slain by me."

He ceased: he bade the king farewell: Clear, mid the roar of drum and sh.e.l.l, The clash of sword and harness rang As to his car the warrior sprang.

Close followed by his Rakshas train Through Lanka's gate he reached the plain.

Then down he leapt, and bade a band Of giants by the chariot stand: Then with due rites, as rules require, Did wors.h.i.+p to the Lord of Fire.

The sacred oil, as texts ordain, With wreaths of scented flowers and grain, Within the flame in order due, That mightiest of the giants threw.

There on the ground were spear and blade, And arrowy leaves and fuel laid; An iron ladle deep and wide, And robes with sanguine colours dyed.

Beside him stood a sable goat: The giant seized it by the throat, And straight from the consuming flame Auspicious signs of victory came.

For swiftly, curling to the right, The fire leapt up with willing light Undimmed by smoky cloud, and, red Like gold, upon the offering fed.

They brought him, while the flame yet glowed, The dart by Brahma's grace bestowed, And all the arms he wielded well Were charmed with text and holy spell.

Then fiercer for the fight he burned, And at the foe his chariot turned, While all his followers lifting high Their maces charged with furious cry.

Dire, yet more dire the battle grew, As rocks and trees and arrows flew.

The giant shot his shafts like rain, And Vanars fell in myriads slain, Sugriva, Angad, Nila felt The wounds his hurtling arrows dealt.

His shafts the blood of Gaya drank; Hanuman reeled and Mainda sank.

Bright as the glances of the sun Came the swift darts they could not shun.

Caught in the arrowy nets he wove, In vain the sons of Raghu strove; And Rama, by the darts oppressed, His brother chieftain thus addressed: "See, first this giant warrior sends Destruction, mid our Vanar friends, And now his arrows thick and fast Their binding net around us cast.

To Brahma's grace the chieftain owes The matchless power and might he shows; And mortal strength in vain contends With him whom Brahma's self befriends.

Then let us still with dauntless hearts Endure this storm of pelting darts.

Soon must we sink bereaved of sense; And then the victor, hurrying hence, Will seek his father in his hall And tell him of his foemen's fall."

He ceased: o'erpowered by shaft and spell The sons of Raghu reeled and fell.

The Rakshas on their bodies gazed; And, mid the shouts his followers raised, Sped back to Lanka to relate In Rava?'s hall the princes' fate.

Canto LXXIV. The Medicinal Herbs.

The shades of falling night concealed The carnage of the battle field, Which, bearing each a blazing brand, Hanuman and Vibhisha? scanned, Moving with slow and anxious tread Among the dying and the dead.

Sad was the scene of slaughter shown Where'er the torches' light was thrown.

Here mountain forms of Vanars lay Whose heads and limbs were lopped away, Arms, legs and fingers strewed the ground, And severed heads lay thick around.

The earth was moist with sanguine streams, And sighs were heard and groans and screams.

There lay Sugriva still and cold, There Angad, once so brave and bold.

There Jambavan his might reposed, There Vegadarsi's eyes were closed; There in the dust was Nala's pride, And Dwivid lay by Mainda's side.

Where'er they looked the ensanguined plain Was strewn with myriads of the slain;(990) They sought with keenly searching eyes King Jambavan supremely wise.

His strength had failed by slow decay, And pierced with countless shafts he lay.

They saw, and hastened to his side, And thus the sage Vibhisha? cried: "Thee, monarch of the bears, we seek: Speak if thou yet art living, speak."

Slow came the aged chief's reply; Scarce could he say with many a sigh: "Torn with keen shafts which pierce each limb, My strength is gone, my sight is dim; Yet though I scarce can raise mine eyes, Thy voice, O chief, I recognize.

O, while these ears can hear thee, say, Has Hanuman survived this day?"

"Why ask," Vibhisha? cried, "for one Of lower rank, the Wind-G.o.d's son?

Hast thou forgotten, first in place, The princely chief of Raghu's race?

Can King Sugriva claim no care, And Angad, his imperial heir?"

"Yea, dearer than my n.o.blest friends Is he on whom our hope depends.

For if the Wind-G.o.d's son survive, All we though dead are yet alive.

But if his precious life be fled Though living still we are but dead: He is our hope and sure relief."

Thus slowly spoke the aged chief: Then to his side Hanuman came, And with low reverence named his name.

Cheered by the face he longed to view The wounded chieftain lived anew.

"Go forth," he cried, "O strong and brave, And in their woe the Vanars save.

No might but thine, supremely great, May help us in our lost estate.