The Ramayana Part 24

The glory of Ikshvaku's line Made offer of a thousand kine, And sought to buy at lordly price A victim for the sacrifice.

To many a distant land he drove, To many a people, town, and grove, And holy shades where hermits rest, Pursuing still his eager quest.

At length on Bhrigu's sacred height The saint Richika met his sight Sitting beneath the holy boughs.

His children near him, and his spouse.

The mighty lord drew near, a.s.sayed To win his grace, and reverence paid; And then the sainted king addressed The Brahman saint with this request: "Bought with a hundred thousand kine, Give me, O Sage, a son of thine To be a victim in the rite, And thanks the favour shall requite.

For I have roamed all countries round, Nor sacrificial victim found.

Then, gentle Hermit, deign to spare One child amid the number there."

Then to the monarch's speech replied The hermit, penance-glorified: "For countless kine, for hills of gold, Mine eldest son shall ne'er be sold."

But, when she heard the saint's reply, The children's mother, standing nigh, Words such as these in answer said To Ambarisha, monarch dread: "My lord, the saint, has spoken well: His eldest child he will not sell.

And know, great Monarch, that above The rest my youngest born I love.

'Tis ever thus: the father's joy Is centred in his eldest boy.

The mother loves her darling best Whom last she rocked upon her breast: My youngest I will ne'er forsake."

As thus the sire and mother spake, Young Sunahsepha, of the three The midmost, cried unurged and free: "My sire withholds his eldest son, My mother keeps her youngest one: Then take me with thee, King: I ween The son is sold who comes between."

The king with joy his home resought, And took the prize his kine had bought.

He bade the youth his car ascend, And hastened back the rites to end.(242)

Canto LXII. Ambarisha's Sacrifice.

As thus the king that youth conveyed, His weary steeds at length he stayed At height of noon their rest to take Upon the bank of Pushkar's lake.

There while the king enjoyed repose The captive Sunahsepha rose, And hasting to the water's side His uncle Visvamitra spied, With many a hermit 'neath the trees Engaged in stern austerities.

Distracted with the toil and thirst, With woeful mien, away he burst, Swift to the hermit's breast he flew, And weeping thus began to sue: "No sire have I, no mother dear, No kith or kin my heart to cheer: As justice bids, O Hermit, deign To save me from the threatened pain.

O thou to whom the wretched flee, And find a saviour, Saint, in thee, Now let the king obtain his will, And me my length of days fulfil, That rites austere I too may share, May rise to heaven and rest me there.

With tender soul and gentle brow Be guardian of the orphan thou, And as a father pities, so Preserve me from my fear and woe."

When Visvamitra, glorious saint, Had heard the boy's heart-rending plaint.

He soothed his grief, his tears he dried, Then called his sons to him, and cried: "The time is come for you to show The duty and the aid bestow For which, regarding future life, A man gives children to his wife.

This hermit's son, whom here you see A suppliant, refuge seeks with me.

O sons, the friendless youth befriend, And, pleasing me, his life defend.

For holy works you all have wrought, True to the virtuous life I taught.

Go, and as victims doomed to bleed, Die, and Lord Agni's hunger feed.

So shall the rite completed end, This orphan gain a saving friend, Due offerings to the G.o.ds be paid, And your own father's voice obeyed."

Then Madhushyand and all the rest Answered their sire with scorn and jest: "What! aid to others' sons afford, And leave thine own to die, my lord!

To us it seems a horrid deed, As 'twere on one's own flesh to feed."

The hermit heard his sons' reply, And burning rage inflamed his eye.

Then forth his words of fury burst: "Audacious speech, by virtue cursed!

It lifts on end each shuddering hair- My charge to scorn! my wrath to dare!

You, like Vasish?ha's evil brood, Shall make the flesh of dogs your food A thousand years in many a birth, And punished thus shall dwell on earth."

Thus on his sons his curse he laid.

Then calmed again that youth dismayed, And blessed him with his saving aid: "When in the sacred fetters bound, And with a purple garland crowned, At Vish?u's post thou standest tied, With lauds be Agni glorified.

And these two hymns of holy praise Forget not, Hermit's son, to raise In the king's rite, and thou shalt be Lord of thy wish, preserved, and free."

He learnt the hymns with mind intent, And from the hermit's presence went.

To Ambarisha thus he spake: "Let us our onward journey take.

Haste to thy home, O King, nor stay The l.u.s.tral rites with slow delay."

The boy's address the monarch cheered, And soon the sacred ground he neared.

The convocation's high decree Declared the youth from blemish free; Clothed in red raiment he was tied A victim at the pillar's side.

There bound, the Fire-G.o.d's hymn he raised, And Indra and Upendra praised.

Thousand-eyed Vish?u, pleased to hear The mystic laud, inclined his ear, And won by wors.h.i.+p, swift to save, Long life to Sunahsepha gave.

The king in bounteous measure gained The fruit of sacrifice ordained, By grace of Him who rules the skies, Lord Indra of the thousand eyes.

And Visvamitra evermore.

Pursued his task on Pushkar's sh.o.r.e Until a thousand years had past In fierce austerity and fast.

Canto LXIII. Menaka.

A thousand years had thus flown by When all the G.o.ds within the sky, Eager that he the fruit might gain Of fervent rite and holy pain, Approached the great ascetic, now Bathed after toil and ended vow.

Then Brahma speaking for the rest With sweetest words the sage addressed: "Hail, Saint! This high and holy name Thy rites have won, thy merits claim."

Thus spoke the Lord whom G.o.ds revere, And sought again his heavenly sphere.

But Visvamitra, more intent, His mind to sterner penance bent.

So many a season rolled away, When Menaka, fair nymph, one day Came down from Paradise to lave Her perfect limbs in Pushkar's wave, The glorious son of Kusik saw That peerless shape without a flaw Flash through the flood's translucent shroud Like lightning gleaming through a cloud.

He saw her in that lone retreat, Most beautiful from head to feet, And by Kandarpa's(243) might subdued He thus addressed her as he viewed: "Welcome, sweet nymph! O deign, I pray, In these calm shades awhile to stay.

To me some gracious favour show, For love has set my breast aglow."

He spoke. The fairest of the fair Made for awhile her dwelling there, While day by day the wild delight Stayed vow austere and fervent rite There as the winsome charmer wove Her spells around him in the grove, And bound him in a golden chain, Five sweet years fled, and five again.

Then Visvamitra woke to shame, And, fraught with anguish, memory came For quick he knew, with anger fired, That all the Immortals had conspired To lap his careless soul in ease, And mar his long austerities.

"Ten years have past, each day and night Unheeded in delusive flight.

So long my fervent rites were stayed, While thus I lay by love betrayed."

As thus long sighs the hermit heaved, And, touched with deep repentance, grieved, He saw the fair one standing nigh With suppliant hands and trembling eye.

With gentle words he bade her go, Then sought the northern hills of snow.

With firm resolve he vowed to beat The might of love beneath his feet.

Still northward to the distant side Of Kausiki(244), the hermit hide, And gave his life to penance there With rites austere most hard to bear.

A thousand years went by, and still He laboured on the northern hill With pains so terrible and drear That all the G.o.ds were chilled with fear, And G.o.ds and saints, for swift advice, Met in the halls of Paradise.

"Let Kusik's son," they counselled, "be A Mighty saint by just decree."

His ear to hear their counsel lent The Sire of worlds, omnipotent.

To him enriched by rites severe He spoke in accents sweet to hear: "Hail, Mighty Saint! dear son, all hail!

Thy fervour wins, thy toils prevail.

Won by thy vows and zeal intense I give this high preeminence."

He to the General Sire replied, Not sad, nor wholly satisfied: "When thou, O Brahma, shalt declare The t.i.tle, great beyond compare, Of Brahman saint my worthy meed, Hard earned by many a holy deed, Then may I deem in sooth I hold Each sense of body well controlled."

Then Brahma cried, "Not yet, not yet: Toil on awhile O Anch.o.r.et!"

Thus having said to heaven he went, The saint, upon his task intent, Began his labours to renew, Which sterner yet and fiercer grew.

His arms upraised, without a rest, With but one foot the earth he pressed; The air his food, the hermit stood Still as a pillar hewn from wood.