The Ramayana Part 85

I by mine own occasion led This mighty forest needs must tread, And while I keep my sire's decree Your lives from threatening foes will free.

I hither came of free accord To lend the aid by you implored, And richest meed my toil shall pay, While here in forest shades I stay.

I long in battle strife to close.

And slay these fiends, the hermits' foes, That saint and sage may learn aright My prowess and my brother's might."

Thus to the saints his promise gave That prince who still to virtue clave With never-wandering thought: And then with Lakshma? by his side, With penance-wealthy men to guide, Sutiksh?a's home he sought.

Canto VII. Sutikshna.

So Raghu's son, his foemen's dread, With Sita and his brother sped, Girt round by many a twice-born sage, To good Sutiksh?a's hermitage.(420) Through woods for many a league he pa.s.sed, O'er rus.h.i.+ng rivers full and fast, Until a mountain fair and bright As lofty Meru rose in sight.

Within its belt of varied wood Ikshvaku's sons and Sita stood, Where trees of every foliage bore Blossom and fruit in endless store.

There coats of bark, like garlands strung, Before a lonely cottage hung, And there a hermit, dust-besmeared, A lotus on his breast, appeared.

Then Rama with obeisance due Addressed the sage, as near he drew: "My name is Rama, lord; I seek Thy presence, saint, with thee to speak.

O sage, whose merits ne'er decay, Some word unto thy servant say."

The sage his eyes on Rama bent, Of virtue's friends preeminent; Then words like these he spoke, and pressed The son of Raghu to his breast: "Welcome to thee, ill.u.s.trious youth, Best champion of the rights of truth!

By thine approach this holy ground A worthy lord this day has found.

I could not quit this mortal frame Till thou shouldst come, O dear to fame: To heavenly spheres I would not rise, Expecting thee with eager eyes.

I knew that thou, unkinged, hadst made Thy home in Chitraku?a's shade.

E'en now, O Rama, Indra, lord Supreme by all the G.o.ds adored, King of the Hundred Offerings,(421) said, When he my dwelling visited, That the good works that I have done My choice of all the worlds have won.

Accept this meed of holy vows, And with thy brother and thy spouse, Roam, through my favour, in the sky Which saints celestial glorify."

To that bright sage, of penance stern, The high-souled Rama spake in turn, As Vasava(422) who rules the skies To Brahma's gracious speech replies: "I of myself those worlds will win, O mighty hermit pure from sin: But now, O saint, I pray thee tell Where I within this wood may dwell: For I by Sarabhanga old, The son of Gautama, was told That thou in every lore art wise, And seest all with loving eyes."

Thus to the saint, whose glories high Filled all the world, he made reply: And thus again the holy man His pleasant speech with joy began: "This calm retreat, O Prince, is blest With many a charm: here take thy rest.

Here roots and kindly fruits abound, And hermits love the holy ground.

Fair silvan beasts and gentle deer In herds unnumbered wander here: And as they roam, secure from harm, Our eyes with grace and beauty charm: Except the beasts in thickets bred, This grove of ours has naught to dread."

The hermit's speech when Rama heard,- The hero ne'er by terror stirred,- On his great bow his hand he laid, And thus in turn his answer made: "O saint, my darts of keenest steel, Armed with their murderous barbs, would deal Destruction mid the silvan race That flocks around thy dwelling-place.

Most wretched then my fate would be For such dishonour shown to thee: And only for the briefest stay Would I within this grove delay."

He spoke and ceased. With pious care He turned him to his evening prayer, Performed each customary rite, And sought his lodging for the night, With Sita and his brother laid Beneath the grove's delightful shade, First good Sutiksh?a, as elsewhere, when he saw The shades of night around them draw, With hospitable care The princely chieftains entertained With store of choicest food ordained For holy hermit's fare.

Canto VIII. The Hermitage.

So Rama and Sumitra's son, When every honour due was done, Slept through the night. When morning broke, The heroes from their rest awoke.

Betimes the son of Raghu rose, With gentle Sita, from repose, And sipped the cool delicious wave Sweet with the scent the lotus gave, Then to the G.o.ds and sacred flame The heroes and the lady came, And bent their heads in honour meet Within the hermit's pure retreat.

When every stain was purged away, They saw the rising Lord of Day: Then to Sutiksh?a's side they went, And softly spoke, most reverent:

"Well have we slept, O holy lord, Honoured of thee by all adored: Now leave to journey forth we pray: These hermits urge us on our way.

We haste to visit, wandering by, The ascetics' homes that round you lie, And roaming Da??ak's mighty wood To view each saintly brotherhood, For thy permission now we sue, With these high saints to duty true, By penance taught each sense to tame,- In l.u.s.tre like the smokeless flame.

Ere on our brows the sun can beat With fierce intolerable heat.

Like some unworthy lord who wins His power by tyranny and sins, O saint, we fain would part." The three Bent humbly to the devotee.

He raised the princes as they pressed His feet, and strained them to his breast; And then the chief of devotees Bespake them both in words like these: "Go with thy brother, Rama, go, Pursue thy path untouched by woe: Go with thy faithful Sita, she Still like a shadow follows thee.

Roam Da??ak wood observing well The pleasant homes where hermits dwell,- Pure saints whose ordered souls adhere To penance rites and vows austere.

There plenteous roots and berries grow, And n.o.ble trees their blossoms show, And gentle deer and birds of air In peaceful troops are gathered there.

There see the full-blown lotus stud The bosom of the lucid flood, And watch the joyous mallard shake The reeds that fringe the pool and lake.

See with delighted eye the rill Leap sparkling from her parent hill, And hear the woods that round thee lie Reecho to the peac.o.c.k's cry.

And as I bid thy brother, so, Sumitra's child, I bid thee go.

Go forth, these varied beauties see, And then once more return to me."

Thus spake the sage Sutiksh?a: both The chiefs a.s.sented, nothing loth, Round him with circling steps they paced, Then for the road prepared with haste.

There Sita stood, the dame long-eyed, Fair quivers round their waists she tied, And gave each prince his trusty bow, And sword which ne'er a spot might know.

Each took his quiver from her hand.

And clanging bow and gleaming brand: Then from the hermits' home the two Went forth each woodland scene to view.

Each beauteous in the bloom of age, Dismissed by that ill.u.s.trious sage, With bow and sword accoutred, hied Away, and Sita by their side.

Canto IX. Sita's Speech.

Blest by the sage, when Raghu's son His onward journey had begun, Thus in her soft tone Sita, meek With modest fear, began to speak: "One little slip the great may lead To shame that follows lawless deed: Such shame, my lord, as still must cling To faults from low desire that spring.

Three several sins defile the soul, Born of desire that spurns control: First, utterance of a lying word, Then, viler both, the next, and third: The lawless love of other's wife, The thirst of blood uncaused by strife.

The first, O Raghu's son, in thee None yet has found, none e'er shall see.

Love of another's dame destroys All merit, lost for guilty joys: Rama, such crime in thee, I ween, Has ne'er been found, shall ne'er be seen: The very thought, my princely lord, Is in thy secret soul abhorred.

For thou hast ever been the same Fond lover of thine own dear dame, Content with faithful heart to do Thy father's will, most just and true: Justice, and faith, and many a grace In thee have found a resting-place.

Such virtues, Prince, the good may gain Who empire o'er each sense retain; And well canst thou, with loving view Regarding all, each sense subdue.

But for the third, the l.u.s.t that strives, Insatiate still, for others' lives,- Fond thirst of blood where hate is none,- This, O my lord, thou wilt not shun.

Thou hast but now a promise made, The saints of Da??ak wood to aid: And to protect their lives from ill The giants' blood in tight wilt spill: And from thy promise lasting fame Will glorify the forest's name.

Armed with thy bow and arrows thou Forth with thy brother journeyest now, While as I think how true thou art Fears for thy bliss a.s.sail my heart, And all my spirit at the sight Is troubled with a strange affright.

I like it not-it seems not good- Thy going thus to Da??ak wood: And I, if thou wilt mark me well, The reason of my fear will tell.

Thou with thy brother, bow in hand, Beneath those ancient trees wilt stand, And thy keen arrows will not spare Wood-rovers who will meet thee there.

For as the fuel food supplies That bids the dormant flame arise, Thus when the warrior grasps his bow He feels his breast with ardour glow.

Deep in a holy grove, of yore, Where bird and beast from strife forbore, Suchi beneath the sheltering boughs, A truthful hermit kept his vows.

Then Indra, Sachi's heavenly lord, Armed like a warrior with a sword, Came to his tranquil home to spoil The hermit of his holy toil, And left the glorious weapon there Entrusted to the hermit's care, A pledge for him to keep, whose mind To fervent zeal was all resigned.

He took the brand: with utmost heed He kept it for the warrior's need: To keep his trust he fondly strove When roaming in the neighbouring grove: Whene'er for roots and fruit he strayed Still by his side he bore the blade: Still on his sacred charge intent, He took his treasure when he went.

As day by day that brand he wore, The hermit, rich in merit's store From penance rites each thought withdrew, And fierce and wild his spirit grew.

With heedless soul he spurned the right, And found in cruel deeds delight.

So, living with the sword, he fell, A ruined hermit, down to h.e.l.l.

This tale applies to those who deal Too closely with the warrior's steel: The steel to warriors is the same As fuel to the smouldering flame.

Sincere affection prompts my speech: I honour where I fain would teach.

Mayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow, So dire a longing never know As, when no hatred prompts the fray, These giants of the wood to slay: For he who kills without offence Shall win but little glory thence.

The bow the warrior joys to bend Is lent him for a n.o.bler end, That he may save and succour those Who watch in woods when pressed by foes.

What, matched with woods, is bow or steel?

What, warrior's arm with hermit's zeal?

We with such might have naught to do: The forest rule should guide us too.

But when Ayodhya hails thee lord, Be then thy warrior life restored: So shall thy sire(423) and mother joy In bliss that naught may e'er destroy.

And if, resigning empire, thou Submit thee to the hermit's vow, The n.o.blest gain from virtue springs, And virtue joy unending brings.

All earthly blessings virtue sends: On virtue all the world depends.

Those who with vow and fasting tame To due restraint the mind and frame, Win by their labour, n.o.bly wise, The highest virtue for their prize.