The Ramayana Part 186

The Rakshas host and Vanar bands Stood with their weapons in their hands, And watched in terror and dismay The fortune of the awful fray.

The giant chief with rage inflamed His darts at Rama's pennon aimed; But when they touched the chariot made By heavenly hands their force was stayed.

Then Rama's breast with fury swelled; He strained the mighty bow he held, And straight at Rava?'s banner flew An arrow as the string he drew- A deadly arrow swift of flight, Like some huge snake ablaze with light, Whose fury none might e'er repel,- And, split in twain, the standard fell.

At Rama's steeds sharp arrows, hot With flames of fire, the giant shot.

Unmoved the heavenly steeds sustained The furious shower the warrior rained, As though soft lotus tendrils smote Each haughty crest and glossy coat.

Then volleyed swift by magic art, Tree, mountain peak and spear and dart, Trident and pike and club and mace Flew hurtling straight at Rama's face.

But Rama with his steeds and car Escaped the storm which fell afar Where the strange missiles, as they rushed To earth, a thousand Vanars crushed.

Canto CIX. The Battle.

With wondrous power and might and skill The giant fought with Rama still.

Each at his foe his chariot drove, And still for death or victory strove.

The warriors' steeds together dashed, And pole with pole reechoing clashed.

Then Rama launching dart on dart Made Rava?'s coursers swerve and start.

Nor was the lord of Lanka slow To rain his arrows on the foe, Who showed, by fiery points a.s.sailed, No trace of pain, nor shook nor quailed.

Dense clouds of arrows Rama shot With that strong arm which rested not, And spear and mace and club and brand Fell in dire rain from Rava?'s hand.

The storm of missiles fiercely cast Stirred up the oceans with its blast, And Serpent-G.o.ds and fiends who dwell Below were troubled by the swell.

The earth with hill and plain and brook And grove and garden reeled and shook: The very sun grew cold and pale, And horror stilled the rising gale.

G.o.d and Gandharva, sage and saint Cried out, with grief and terror faint: "O may the prince of Raghu's line Give peace to Brahmans and to kine, And, rescuing the worlds, o'erthrow The giant king our awful foe."

Then to his deadly string the pride Of Raghu's race a shaft applied.

Sharp as a serpent's venomed fang Straight to its mark the arrow sprang, And from the giant's body shred With trenchant steel the monstrous head.

There might the triple world behold That severed head adorned with gold.

But when all eyes were bent to view, Swift in its stead another grew.

Again the shaft was pointed well: Again the head divided fell; But still as each to earth was cast Another head succeeded fast.

A hundred, bright with fiery flame, Fell low before the victor's aim, Yet Rava? by no sign betrayed That death was near or strength decayed.

The doubtful fight he still maintained, And on the foe his missiles rained.

In air, on earth, on plain, on hill, With awful might he battled still; And through the hours of night and day The conflict knew no pause or stay.

Canto CX. Ravan's Death.

Then Matali to Rama cried: "Let other arms the day decide.

Why wilt thou strive with useless toil And see his might thy efforts foil?

Launch at the foe thy dart whose fire Was kindled by the Almighty Sire."

He ceased: and Raghu's son obeyed: Upon his string the hero laid An arrow, like a snake that hissed.

Whose fiery flight had never missed: The arrow Saint Agastya gave And blessed the chieftain's life to save That dart the Eternal Father made The Monarch of the G.o.ds to aid; By Brahma's self on him bestowed When forth to fight Lord Indra rode.

'Twas feathered with the rus.h.i.+ng wind; The glowing sun and fire combined To the keen point their splendour lent; The shaft, ethereal element, By Meru's hill and Mandar, pride Of mountains, had its weight supplied.

He laid it on the twisted cord, He turned the point at Lanka's lord, And swift the limb-dividing dart Pierced the huge chest and cleft the heart, And dead he fell upon the plain Like Vritra by the Thunderer slain.

The Rakahas host when Rava? fell Sent forth a wild terrific yell, Then turned and fled, all hope resigned, Through Lanka's gates, nor looked behind.

His voice each joyous Vanar raised, And Rama, conquering Rama, praised.

Soft from celestial minstrels came The sound of music and acclaim.

Soft, fresh, and cool, a rising breeze Brought odours from the heavenly trees, And ravis.h.i.+ng the sight and smell A wondrous rain of blossoms fell: And voices breathed round Raghu's son: "Champion of G.o.ds, well done, well done."

Canto CXI. Vibhishan's Lament.

Vibhisha? saw his brother slain, Nor could his heart its woe contain.

O'er the dead king he sadly bent And mourned him with a loud lament: "O hero, bold and brave," he cried, "Skilled in all arms, in battle tried.

Spoiled of thy crown, with limbs outspread, Why wilt thou press thy gory bed?

Why slumber on the earth's cold breast, When sumptuous couches woo to rest?

Ah me, my brother over bold, Thine is the fate my heart foretold: But love and pride forbade to hear The friend who blamed thy wild career.

Fallen is the sun who gave us light, Our lordly moon is veiled in night.

Our beacon fire is dead and cold A hundred waves have o'er it rolled.

What could his light and fire avail Against Lord Rama's arrowy hail?

Woe for the giants' royal tree, Whose stately height was fair to see.

His buds were deeds of kingly grace, His bloom the sons who decked his race.

With rifled bloom and mangled bough The royal tree lies prostrate now."

"Nay, idly mourn not," Rama cried, "The warrior king has n.o.bly died, Intrepid hero, firm through all, So fell he as the brave should fall; And ill beseems it chiefs like us To weep for those who perish thus.

Be firm: thy causeless grief restrain, And pay the dues that yet remain."

Again Vibhisha? sadly spoke: "His was the hero arm that broke Embattled G.o.ds' and Indra's might, Unconquered ere to-day in fight.

He rushed against thee, fought and fell, As Ocean, when his waters swell, Hurling his might against a rock, Falls spent and shattered by the shock.

Woe for our king's untimely end, The generous lord the trusty friend: Our sure defence when fear arose, A dreaded scourge to stubborn foes.

O, let the king thy hand has slain The honours of the dead obtain."

Then Rama answered. "Hatred dies When low in dust the foeman lies.

Now triumph bids the conflict cease, And knits us in the bonds of peace.

Let funeral rites be duly paid.

And be it mine thy toil to aid."

Canto CXII. The Rakshas Dames.

High rose the universal wail That mourned the monarch's death, and, pale With crus.h.i.+ng woe, her hair unbound, Her eyes in floods of sorrow drowned, Forth from the inner chambers came With trembling feet each royal dame, Heedless of those who bade them stay They reached the field where Rava? lay; There falling by their husband's side, "Ah, King! ah dearest lord!" they cried.

Like creepers shattered by the storm They threw them on his mangled form.

One to his bleeding bosom crept And lifted up her voice and wept.

About his feet one mourner clung, Around his neck another hung, One on the giant's severed head, Her pearly tears in torrents shed Fast as the drops the summer shower Pours down upon the lotus flower.

"Ah, he whose arm in anger reared The King of G.o.ds and Yama feared, While panic struck their heavenly train, Lies prostrate in the battle slain.

Thy haughty heart thou wouldst not bend, Nor listen to each wiser friend.

Ah, had the dame, as they implored, Been yielded to her injured lord, We had not mourned this day thy fall, And happy had it been for all.

Then Rama and thy friends content In blissful peace their days had spent.

Thine injured brother had not fled, Nor giant chiefs and Vanars bled.

Yet for these woes we will not blame.

Thy fancy for the Maithil dame, Fate, ruthless Fate, whom none may bend Has urged thee to thy hapless end."