The Ramayana Part 59

His blinded eyes refused to scan The guilt and folly of the plan, And from the weakness of the king Here and hereafter woe shall spring.

No more my sire: the ties that used To bind me to the king are loosed.

My brother Rama, Raghu's son, To me is lord, friend, sire in one.

The love of men how can he win, Deserting, by the cruel sin, Their joy, whose heart is swift to feel A pleasure in the people's weal?

Shall he whose mandate could expel The virtuous Rama, loved so well, To whom his subjects' fond hearts cling- Shall he in spite of them be king?"

But Janak's child, my lord, stood by, And oft the votaress heaved a sigh.

She seemed with dull and wandering sense, Beneath a spirit's influence.

The n.o.ble princess, pained with woe Which till that hour she ne'er could know, Tears in her heavy trouble shed, But not a word to me she said.

She raised her face which grief had dried And tenderly her husband eyed, Gazed on him as he turned to go While tear chased tear in rapid flow."

Canto LIX. Dasaratha's Lament.

As thus Sumantra, best of peers, Told his sad tale with many tears, The monarch cried, "I pray thee, tell At length again what there befell."

Sumantra, at the king's behest, Striving with sobs he scarce repressed, His trembling voice at last controlled, And thus his further tidings told: "Their locks in votive coils they wound, Their coats of bark upon them bound, To Ganga's farther sh.o.r.e they went, Thence to Prayag their steps were bent.

I saw that Lakshma? walked ahead To guard the path the two should tread.

So far I saw, no more could learn, Forced by the hero to return.

Retracing slow my homeward course, Scarce could I move each stubborn horse: Shedding hot tears of grief he stood When Rama turned him to the wood.(333) As the two princes parted thence I raised my hands in reverence, Mounted my ready car, and bore The grief that stung me to the core.

With Guha all that day I stayed, Still by the earnest hope delayed That Rama, ere the time should end, Some message from the wood might send.

Thy realms, great Monarch, mourn the blow, And sympathize with Rama's woe.

Each withering tree hangs low his head, And shoot, and bud, and flower are dead.

Dried are the floods that wont to fill The lake, the river, and the rill.

Drear is each grove and garden now, Dry every blossom on the bough.

Each beast is still, no serpents crawl: A lethargy of woe on all.

The very wood is silent: crushed With grief for Rama, all is hushed.

Fair blossoms from the water born, Gay garlands that the earth adorn, And every fruit that gleams like gold, Have lost the scent that charmed of old.

Empty is every grove I see, Or birds sit pensive on the tree.

Where'er I look, its beauty o'er, The pleasance charms not as before.

I drove through fair Ayodhya's street: None flew with joy the car to meet.

They saw that Rama was not there, And turned them sighing in despair.

The people in the royal way Wept tears of bitter grief, when they Beheld me coming, from afar, No Rama with me in the car.

From palace roof and turret high Each woman bent her eager eye; She looked for Rama, but in vain; Gazed on the car and shrieked for pain.

Their long clear eyes with sorrow drowned They, when this common grief was found, Looked each on other, friend and foe, In sympathy of levelling woe: No shade of difference between Foe, friend, or neutral, there was seen.

Without a joy, her bosom rent With grief for Rama's banishment, Ayodhya like the queen appears Who mourns her son with many tears."

He ended: and the king, distressed.

With sobbing voice that lord addressed: "Ah me, by false Kaikeyi led, Of evil race, to evil bred, I took no counsel of the sage, Nor sought advice from skill and age, I asked no lord his aid to lend, I called no citizen or friend.

Rash was my deed, bereft of sense Slave to a woman's influence.

Surely, my lord, a woe so great Falls on us by the will of Fate; It lays the house of Raghu low, For Destiny will have it so.

I pray thee, if I e'er have done An act to please thee, yea, but one, Fly, fly, and Rama homeward lead: My life, departing, counsels speed.

Fly, ere the power to bid I lack, Fly to the wood: bring Rama back.

I cannot live for even one Short hour bereaved of my son.

But ah, the prince, whose arms are strong, Has journeyed far: the way is long: Me, me upon the chariot place, And let me look on Rama's face.

Ah me, my son, mine eldest-born, Where roams he in the wood forlorn, The wielder of the mighty bow, Whose shoulders like the lion's show?

O, ere the light of life be dim, Take me to Sita and to him.

O Rama, Lakshma?, and O thou Dear Sita, constant to thy vow, Beloved ones, you cannot know That I am dying of my woe."

The king to bitter grief a prey, That drove each wandering sense away, Sunk in affliction's sea, too wide To traverse, in his anguish cried: "Hard, hard to pa.s.s, my Queen, this sea Of sorrow raging over me: No Rama near to soothe mine eye, Plunged in its lowest deeps I lie.

Sorrow for Rama swells the tide, And Sita's absence makes it wide: My tears its foamy flood distain, Made billowy by my sighs of pain: My cries its roar, the arms I throw About me are the fish below, Kaikeyi is the fire that feeds Beneath: my hair the tangled weeds: Its source the tears for Rama shed: The hump-back's words its monsters dread: The boon I gave the wretch its sh.o.r.e, Till Rama's banishment be o'er.(334) Ah me, that I should long to set My eager eyes to-day On Raghu's son, and he be yet With Lakshma? far away!"

Thus he of lofty glory wailed, And sank upon the bed.

Beneath the woe his spirit failed, And all his senses fled.

Canto LX. Kausalya Consoled.

As Queen Kausalya, trembling much, As blighted by a goblin's touch, Still lying prostrate, half awoke To consciousness, 'twas thus she spoke: "Bear me away, Sumantra, far, Where Rama, Sita, Lakshma? are.

Bereft of them I have no power To linger on a single hour.

Again, I pray, thy steps retrace, And me in Da??ak forest place, For after them I needs must go, Or sink to Yama's realms below."

His utterance choked by tears that rolled Down from their fountains uncontrolled, With suppliant hands the charioteer Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer: "Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread That fills thy soul, of sorrow bred, For pain and anguish thrown aside, Will Rama in the wood abide.

And Lakshma?, with unfailing care Will guard the feet of Rama there, Earning, with governed sense, the prize That waits on duty in the skies.

And Sita in the wild as well As in her own dear home will dwell; To Rama all her heart she gives, And free from doubt and terror lives.

No faintest sign of care or woe The features of the lady show: Methinks Videha's pride was made For exile in the forest shade.

E'en as of old she used to rove Delighted in the city's grove, Thus, even thus she joys to tread The woodlands uninhabited.

Like a young child, her face as fair As the young moon, she wanders there.

What though in lonely woods she stray Still Rama is her joy and stay: All his the heart no sorrow bends, Her very life on him depends.

For, if her lord she might not see, Ayodhya like the wood would be.

She bids him, as she roams, declare The names of towns and hamlets there, Marks various trees that meet her eye, And many a brook that hurries by, And Janak's daughter seems to roam One little league away from home When Rama or his brother speaks And gives the answer that she seeks.

This, Lady, I remember well, Nor angry words have I to tell: Reproaches at Kaikeyi shot, Such, Queen, my mind remembers not."

The speech when Sita's wrath was high, Sumantra pa.s.sed in silence by, That so his pleasant words might cheer With sweet report Kausalya's ear.

"Her moonlike beauty suffers not Though winds be rude and suns be hot: The way, the danger, and the toil Her gentle l.u.s.tre may not soil.

Like the red lily's leafy crown Or as the fair full moon looks down, So the Videhan lady's face Still s.h.i.+nes with undiminished grace.

What if the borrowed colours throw O'er her fine feet no rosy glow, Still with their natural tints they spread A lotus glory where they tread.

In sportive grace she walks the ground And sweet her chiming anklets sound.

No jewels clasp the faultless limb: She leaves them all for love of him.

If in the woods her gentle eye A lion sees, or tiger nigh, Or elephant, she fears no ill For Rama's arm supports her still.

No longer be their fate deplored, Nor thine, nor that of Kosal's lord, For conduct such as theirs shall buy Wide glory that can never die.

For casting grief and care away, Delighting in the forest, they With joyful spirits, blithe and gay, Set forward on the ancient way Where mighty saints have led: Their highest aim, their dearest care To keep their father's honour fair, Observing still the oath he sware, They roam, on wild fruit fed."

Thus with persuasive art he tried To turn her from her grief aside, By soothing fancies won.

But still she gave her sorrow vent: "Ah Rama," was her shrill lament, "My love, my son, my son!"

Canto LXI. Kausalya's Lament.

When, best of all who give delight, Her Rama wandered far from sight, Kausalya weeping, sore distressed, The king her husband thus addressed: "Thy name, O Monarch, far and wide Through the three worlds is glorified: Yet Rama's is the pitying mind, His speed is true, his heart is kind.

How will thy sons, good lord, sustain With Sita, all their care and pain?

How in the wild endure distress, Nursed in the lap of tenderness?

How will the dear Videhan bear The heat and cold when wandering there Bred in the bliss of princely state, So young and fair and delicate?

The large-eyed lady, wont to eat The best of finely seasoned meat- How will she now her life sustain With woodland fare of self-sown grain?

Will she, with joys encompa.s.sed long, Who loved the music and the song, In the wild wood endure to hear The ravening lion's voice of fear?