The Ramayana Part 77

Fate with supreme, resistless law This way and that its slave will draw, All gathered heaps must waste away, All lofty lore and powers decay.

Death is the end of life, and all, Now firmly joined, apart must fall.

One fear the ripened fruit must know, To fall upon the earth below; So every man who draws his breath Must fear inevitable death.

The pillared mansion, high, compact, Must fall by Time's strong hand attacked; So mortal men, the gradual prey Of old and ruthless death, decay.

The night that flies no more returns: Yamuna for the Ocean yearns: Swift her impetuous waters flee, But roll not backward from the sea.

The days and nights pa.s.s swiftly by And steal our moments as they fly, E'en as the sun's unpitying rays Drink up the floods in summer blaze.

Then for thyself lament and leave For death of other men to grieve, For if thou go or if thou stay, Thy life is shorter day by day.

Death travels with us; death attends Our steps until our journey ends, Death, when the traveller wins the goal, Returns with the returning soul.

The flowing hair grows white and thin, And wrinkles mark the altered skin.

The ills of age man's strength a.s.sail: Ah, what can mortal power avail?

Men joy to see the sun arise, They watch him set with joyful eyes: But ne'er reflect, too blind to see, How fast their own brief moments flee.

With lovely change for ever new The seasons' sweet return they view, Nor think with heedless hearts the while That lives decay as seasons smile.

As haply on the boundless main Meet drifting logs and part again, So wives and children, friends and gold, Ours for a little time we hold: Soon by resistless laws of fate To meet no more we separate.

In all this changing world not one The common lot of all can shun: Then why with useless tears deplore The dead whom tears can bring no more?

As one might stand upon the way And to a troop of travellers say: "If ye allow it, sirs, I too Will travel on the road with you:"

So why should mortal man lament When on that path his feet are bent Which all men living needs must tread, Where sire and ancestors have led?

Life flies as torrents downward fall Speeding away without recall, So virtue should our thoughts engage, For bliss(382) is mortals' heritage.

By ceaseless care and earnest zeal For servants and for people's weal, By gifts, by duty n.o.bly done, Our glorious sire the skies has won.

Our lord the king, o'er earth who reigned, A blissful home in heaven has gained By wealth in ample largess spent, And many a rite magnificent: With constant joy from first to last A long and n.o.ble life he pa.s.sed, Praised by the good, no tears should dim Our eyes, O brother dear, for him.

His human body, worn and tried By length of days, he cast aside, And gained the G.o.dlike bliss to stray In Brahma's heavenly home for aye.

For such the wise as we are, deep In Veda lore, should never weep.

Those who are firm and ever wise Spurn vain lament and idle sighs.

Be self-possessed: thy grief restrain: Go, in that city dwell again.

Return, O best of men, and be Obedient to our sire's decree, While I with every care fulfil Our holy father's righteous will, Observing in the lonely wood His charge approved by all the good."

Thus Rama of the lofty mind To Bharat spoke his righteous speech, By every argument designed Obedience to his sire to teach.

Canto CVI. Bharat's Speech.

Good Bharat, by the river side, To virtuous Rama's speech replied, And thus with varied lore addressed The prince, while n.o.bles round him pressed: "In all this world whom e'er can we Find equal, scourge of foes, to thee?

No ill upon thy bosom weighs, No thoughts of joy thy spirit raise.

Approved art thou of sages old, To whom thy doubts are ever told.

Alike in death and life, to thee The same to be and not to be.

The man who such a soul can gain Can ne'er be crushed by woe or pain.

Pure as the G.o.ds, high-minded, wise, Concealed from thee no secret lies.

Such glorious gifts are all thine own, And birth and death to thee are known, That ill can ne'er thy soul depress With all-subduing bitterness.

O let my prayer, dear brother, win Thy pardon for my mother's sin.

Wrought for my sake who willed it not When absent in a distant spot.

Duty alone with binding chains The vengeance due to crime restrains, Or on the sinner I should lift My hand in retribution swift.

Can I who know the right, and spring From Dasaratha, purest king- Can I commit a heinous crime, Abhorred by all through endless time?

The aged king I dare not blame, Who died so rich in holy fame, My honoured sire, my parted lord, E'en as a present G.o.d adored.

Yet who in lore of duty skilled So foul a crime has ever willed, And dared defy both gain and right To gratify a woman's spite?

When death draws near, so people say, The sense of creatures dies away; And he has proved the ancient saw By acting thus in spite of law.

But O my honoured lord, be kind, Dismiss the trespa.s.s from thy mind, The sin the king committed, led By haste, his consort's wrath, and dread.

For he who veils his sire's offence With tender care and reverence- His sons approved by all shall live: Not so their fate who ne'er forgive.

Be thou, my lord, the n.o.ble son, And the vile deed my sire has done, Abhorred by all the virtuous, ne'er Resent, lest thou the guilt too share.

Preserve us, for on thee we call, Our sire, Kaikeyi, me and all Thy citizens, thy kith and kin; Preserve us and reverse the sin.

To live in woods a devotee Can scarce with royal tasks agree, Nor can the hermit's matted hair Suit fitly with a ruler's care.

Do not, my brother, do not still Pursue this life that suits thee ill.

Mid duties of a king we count His consecration paramount, That he with ready heart and hand May keep his people and his land.

What Warrior born to royal sway From certain good would turn away, A doubtful duty to pursue, That mocks him with the distant view?

Thou wouldst to duty cleave, and gain The meed that follows toil and pain.

In thy great task no labour spare: Rule the four castes with justest care.

Mid all the four, the wise prefer The order of the householder:(383) Canst thou, whose thoughts to duty cleave, The best of all the orders leave?

My better thou in lore divine, My birth, my sense must yield to thine: While thou, my lord, art here to reign, How shall my hands the rule maintain?

O faithful lover of the right, Take with thy friends the royal might, Let thy sires' realm, from trouble free, Obey her rightful king in thee.

Here let the priests and lords of state Our monarch duly consecrate, With prayer and holy verses blessed By saint Vasish?ha and the rest.

Anointed king by us, again Seek fair Ayodhya, there to reign, And like imperial Indra girt By G.o.ds of Storm, thy might a.s.sert.

From the three debts(384) acquittance earn, And with thy wrath the wicked burn, O'er all of us thy rule extend, And cheer with boons each faithful friend.

Let thine enthronement, lord, this day Make all thy lovers glad and gay, And let all those who hate thee flee To the ten winds for fear of thee.

Dear lord, my mother's words of hate With thy sweet virtues expiate, And from the stain of folly clear The father whom we both revere.

Brother, to me compa.s.sion show, I pray thee with my head bent low, And to these friends who on thee call,- As the Great Father pities all.

But if my tears and prayers be vain, And thou in woods wilt still remain, I will with thee my path pursue And make my home in forests too."

Thus Bharat strove to bend his will With suppliant head, but he, Earth's lord, inexorable still Would keep his sire's decree.

The firmness of the n.o.ble chief The wondering people moved, And rapture mingling with their grief, All wept and all approved.

"How firm his steadfast will," they cried, "Who Keeps his promise thus!

Ah, to Ayodhya's town," they sighed, "He comes not back with us."

The holy priest, the swains who tilled The earth, the sons of trade, And e'en the mournful queens were filled With joy as Bharat prayed, And bent their heads, then weeping stilled A while, his prayer to aid.

Canto CVII. Rama's Speech.

Thus, by his friends encompa.s.sed round, He spoke, and Rama, far renowned, To his dear brother thus replied, Whom holy rites had purified: "O thou whom Queen Kaikeyi bare The best of kings, thy words are fair, Our royal father, when of yore He wed her, to her father swore The best of kingdoms to confer, A n.o.ble dowry meet for her; Then, grateful, on the deadly day Of heavenly G.o.ds' and demons' fray, A future boon on her bestowed To whose sweet care his life he owed.

She to his mind that promise brought, And then the best of kings besought To bid me to the forest flee, And give the rule, O Prince, to thee.

Thus bound by oath, the king our lord Gave her those boons of free accord, And bade me, O thou chief of men, Live in the woods four years and ten.

I to this lonely wood have hied With faithful Lakshma? by my side, And Sita by no tears deterred, Resolved to keep my father's word.

And thou, my n.o.ble brother, too Shouldst keep our father's promise true: Anointed ruler of the state Maintain his word inviolate.

From his great debt, dear brother, free Our lord the king for love of me, Thy mother's breast with joy inspire, And from all woe preserve thy sire.

'Tis said, near Gaya's holy town(385) Gaya, great saint of high renown, This text recited when he paid Due rites to each ancestral shade: "A son is born his sire to free From Put's infernal pains: Hence, saviour of his father, he The name of Puttra gains."(386) Thus numerous sons are sought by prayer, In Scripture trained with graces fair, That of the number one some day May funeral rites at Gaya pay.

The mighty saints who lived of old This holy doctrine ever hold.

Then, best of men, our sire release From pains of h.e.l.l, and give him peace.

Now Bharat, to Ayodhya speed, The brave Satrughna with thee lead, Take with thee all the twice-born men, And please each lord and citizen.

I now, O King, without delay To Da??ak wood will bend my way, And Lakshma? and the Maithil dame Will follow still, our path the same.

Now, Bharat, lord of men be thou, And o'er Ayodhya reign: The silvan world to me shall bow, King of the wild domain.

Yea, let thy joyful steps be bent To that fair town to-day, And I as happy and content, To Da??ak wood will stray.

The white umbrella o'er thy brow Its cooling shade shall throw: I to the shadow of the bough And leafy trees will go.

Satrughna, for wise plans renowned, Shall still on thee attend; And Lakshma?, ever faithful found, Be my familiar friend.

Let us his sons, O brother dear, The path of right pursue, And keep the king we all revere Still to his promise true."

Canto CVIII. Javali's Speech.