The Ramayana Part 65

Kaikeyi saw him fallen there, G.o.dlike, afflicted, in despair, Used every art to move him thence, And tried him thus with eloquence: "Arise, arise, my dearest; why Wilt thou, famed Prince, so lowly lie?

Not by such grief as this are moved Good men like thee, by all approved.

The earth thy father n.o.bly swayed, And rites to Heaven he duly paid.

At length his race of life was run: Thou shouldst not mourn for him, my son."

Long on the ground he wept, and rolled From side to side, still unconsoled, And then, with bitter grief oppressed, His mother with these words addressed: "This joyful hope my bosom fed When from my grandsire's halls I sped- "The king will throne his eldest son, And sacrifice, as should be done."

But all is changed, my hope was vain, And this sad heart is rent in twain, For my dear father's face I miss, Who ever sought his loved ones' bliss.

But in my absence, mother, say, What sickness took my sire away?

Ah, happy Rama, happy they Allowed his funeral rites to pay!

The glorious monarch has not learned That I his darling have returned, Or quickly had he hither sped, And pressed his kisses on my head.

Where is that hand whose gentle touch, Most soft and kind I loved so much, The hand that loved to brush away The dust that on his darling lay?

Quick, bear the news to Rama's ear; Tell the great chief that I am here: Brother, and sire, and friend, and all Is he, and I his trusty thrall.

For n.o.ble hearts, to virtue true, Their sires in elder brothers view.

To clasp his feet I fain would bow: He is my hope and refuge now.

What said my glorious sire, who knew Virtue and vice, so brave and true?

Firm in his vows, dear lady, say, What said he ere he pa.s.sed away?

What was his rede to me? I crave To hear the last advice he gave."

Thus closely questioned by the youth, Kaikeyi spoke the mournful truth: "The high-souled monarch wept and sighed, For Rama, Sita, Lakshma?, cried, Then, best of all who go to bliss, Pa.s.sed to the world which follows this.

"Ah, blessed are the people who Shall Rama and his Sita view, And Lakshma? of the mighty arm, Returning free from scathe and harm."

Such were the words, the last of all, Thy father, ere he died, let fall, By Fate and Death's dread coils enwound, As some great elephant is bound."

He heard, yet deeper in despair, Her lips this double woe declare, And with sad brow that showed his pain Questioned his mother thus again: "But where is he, of virtue tried, Who fills Kausalya's heart with pride, Where is the n.o.ble Rama? where Is Lakshma? brave, and Sita fair?"

Thus pressed, the queen began to tell The story as each thing befell, And gave her son in words like these, The mournful news she meant to please: "The prince is gone in hermit dress To Da??ak's mighty wilderness, And Lakshma? brave and Sita share The wanderings of the exile there."

Then Bharat's soul with fear was stirred Lest Rama from the right had erred, And jealous for ancestral fame, He put this question to the dame: "Has Rama grasped with lawless hold A Brahman's house, or land, or gold?

Has Rama harmed with ill intent Some poor or wealthy innocent?

Was Rama, faithless to his vows, Enamoured of anothers spouse?

Why was he sent to Da??ak's wild, Like one who kills an unborn child?"

He questioned thus: and she began To tell her deeds and crafty plan.

Deceitful-hearted, fond, and blind As is the way of womankind: "No Brahman's wealth has Rama seized, No dame his wandering fancy pleased; His very eyes he ne'er allows To gaze upon a neighbour's spouse.

But when I heard the monarch planned To give the realm to Rama's hand, I prayed that Rama hence might flee, And claimed the throne, my son, for thee.

The king maintained the name he bare, And did according to my prayer, And Rama, with his brother, sent, And Sita, forth to banishment.

When his dear son was seen no more, The lord of earth was troubled sore: Too feeble with his grief to strive, He joined the elemental Five.

Up then, most dutiful! maintain The royal state, arise, and reign.

For thee, my darling son, for thee All this was planned and wrought by me.

Come, cast thy grief and pain aside, With manly courage fortified.

This town and realm are all thine own, And fear and grief are here unknown.

Come, with Vasish?ha's guiding aid, And priests in ritual skilled Let the king's funeral dues be paid, And every claim fulfilled.

Perform his obsequies with all That suits his rank and worth, Then give the mandate to install Thyself as lord of earth."

Canto LXXIII. Kaikeyi Reproached.

But when he heard the queen relate His brothers' doom, his father's fate, Thus Bharat to his mother said With burning grief disquieted: "Alas, what boots it now to reign, Struck down by grief and well-nigh slain?

Ah, both are gone, my sire, and he Who was a second sire to me.

Grief upon grief thy hand has made, And salt upon gashes laid: For my dear sire has died through thee, And Rama roams a devotee.

Thou camest like the night of Fate This royal house to devastate.

Unwitting ill, my hapless sire Placed in his bosom coals of fire, And through thy crimes his death he met, O thou whose heart on sin is set.

Shame of thy house! thy senseless deed Has reft all joy from Raghu's seed.

The truthful monarch, dear to fame, Received thee as his wedded dame, And by thy act to misery doomed Has died by flames of grief consumed.

Kausalya and Sumitra too The coming of my mother rue, And if they live oppressed by woe, For their dear sons their sad tears flow.

Was he not ever good and kind,- That hero of the duteous mind?

Skilled in all filial duties, he As a dear mother treated thee.

Kausalya too, the eldest queen, Who far foresees with insight keen, Did she not ever show thee all A sister's love at duty's call?

And hast thou from the kingdom chased Her son, with bark around his waist, To the wild wood, to dwell therein, And dost not sorrow for thy sin?

The love I bare to Raghu's son Thou knewest not, ambitious one, If thou hast wrought this impious deed For royal sway, in lawless greed.

With him and Lakshma? far away, What power have I the realm to sway?

What hope will fire my bosom when I see no more these lords of men?

The holy king, who loved the right Relied on Rama's power and might, His guardian and his glory, so Joys Meru in his woods below.

How can I bear, a steer untrained, The load his mightier strength sustained?

What power have I to brook alone This weight on feeble shoulders thrown?

But if the needful power were bought By strength of mind and brooding thought, No triumph shall attend the dame Who dooms her son to lasting shame.

Now should no doubt that son prevent From quitting thee on evil bent.

But Rama's love o'erpowers my will, Who holds thee as his mother still.

Whence did the thought, O thou whose eyes Are turned to sinful deeds, arise- A plan our ancient sires would hate, O fallen from thy virtuous state?

For in the line from which we spring The eldest is anointed king: No monarchs from the rule decline, And, least of all, Ikshvaku's line.

Our holy sires, to virtue true, Upon our race a l.u.s.tre threw, But with subversive frenzy thou Hast marred our lineal honour now, Of lofty birth, a n.o.ble line Of previous kings is also thine: Then whence this hated folly? whence This sudden change that steals thy sense?

Thou shalt not gain thine impious will, O thou whose thoughts are bent on ill, Thou from whose guilty hand descend These sinful blows my life to end.

Now to the forest will I go, Thy cherished plans to overthrow, And bring my brother, free from stain, His people's darling, home again.

And Rama, when again he turns, Whose glory like a beacon burns, In me a faithful slave shall find To serve him with contented mind."

Canto LXXIV. Bharat's Lament.

When Bharat's anger-sharpened tongue Reproaches on the queen had flung, Again, with mighty rage possessed, The guilty dame he thus addressed: "Flee, cruel, wicked sinner, flee, Let not this kingdom harbour thee.

Thou who hast thrown all right aside, Weep thou for me when I have died.

Canst thou one charge against the king, Or the most duteous Rama bring?

The one thy sin to death has sent, The other chased to banishment.

Our line's destroyer, sin defiled Like one who kills an unborn child, Ne'er with thy lord in heaven to dwell, Thy portion shall be down in h.e.l.l Because thy hand, that stayed for naught, This awful wickedness has wrought, And ruined him whom all held dear, My bosom too is stirred with fear.

My father by thy sin is dead, And Rama to the wood is fled; And of thy deed I bear the stain, And fameless in the world remain.

Ambitious, evil-souled, in show My mother, yet my direst foe.

My throning ne'er thine eyes shall bless, Thy husband's wicked murderess.

Thou art not Asvapati's child, That righteous king most sage and mild, But thou wast born a fiend, a foe My father's house to overthrow.

Thou who hast made Kausalya, pure, Gentle, affectionate, endure The loss of him who was her bliss,- What worlds await thee, Queen, for this?

Was it not patent to thy sense That Rama was his friends' defence, Kausalya's own true child most dear, The eldest and his father's peer?

Men in the son not only trace The father's figure, form, and face, But in his heart they also find The offspring of the father's mind; And hence, though dear their kinsmen are, To mothers sons are dearer far.

There goes an ancient legend how Good Surabhi, the G.o.d-loved cow, Saw two of her dear children strain, Drawing a plough and faint with pain.

She saw them on the earth outworn, Toiling till noon from early morn, And as she viewed her children's woe, A flood of tears began to flow.

As through the air beneath her swept The Lord of G.o.ds, the drops she wept, Fine, laden with delicious smell, Upon his heavenly body fell.

And Indra lifted up his eyes And saw her standing in the skies, Afflicted with her sorrow's weight, Sad, weeping, all disconsolate.

The Lord of G.o.ds in anxious mood Thus spoke in suppliant att.i.tude: "No fear disturbs our rest, and how Come this great dread upon thee now?