The Ramayana Part 90

"With matted hair above thy brows, With bow and shaft and this thy spouse, How hast thou sought in hermit dress The giant-haunted wilderness?

What dost thou here? The cause explain: Why art thou come, and what to gain?"

As Surpa?akha questioned so, Rama, the terror of the foe, In answer to the monster's call, With fearless candour told her all.

"King Dasaratha reigned of old, Like G.o.ds celestial brave and bold.

I am his eldest son and heir, And Rama is the name I bear.

This brother, Lakshma?, younger born, Most faithful love to me has sworn.

My wife, this princess, dear to fame, Is Sita the Videhan dame.

Obedient to my sire's behest And by the queen my mother pressed, To keep the law and merit win, I sought this wood to harbour in.

But speak, for I of thee in turn Thy name, and race, and sire would learn.

Thou art of giant race, I ween.

Changing at will thy form and mien.

Speak truly, and the cause declare That bids thee to these shades repair."

Thus Rama spoke: the demon heard, And thus replied by pa.s.sion spurred: "Of giant race, what form soe'er My fancy wills, 'tis mine to wear.

Named Surpa?akha here I stray, And where I walk spread wild dismay.

King Rava? is my brother: fame Has taught perchance his dreaded name, Strong k.u.mbhakar?a slumbering deep In chains of never-ending sleep: Vibhisha? of the duteous mind, In needs unlike his giant kind: Dusha? and Khara, brave and bold Whose fame by every tongue is told: Their might by mine is far surpa.s.sed; But when, O best of men, I cast These fond eyes on thy form, I see My chosen love and lord in thee.

Endowed with wondrous might am I: Where'er my fancy leads I fly.

The poor misshapen Sita leave, And me, thy worthier bride receive.

Look on my beauty, and prefer A spouse more meet than one like her: I'll eat that ill-formed woman there: Thy brother too her fate shall share.

But come, beloved, thou shalt roam With me through all our woodland home; Each varied grove with me shalt seek, And gaze upon each mountain peak."

As thus she spoke, the monster gazed With sparkling eyes where pa.s.sion blazed: Then he, in lore of language learned, This answer eloquent returned:

Canto XVIII. The Mutilation.

On her ensnared in Kama's net His eyes the royal Rama set, And thus, her pa.s.sion to beguile, Addressed her with a gentle smile:

"I have a wife: behold her here, My Sita ever true and dear: And one like thee will never brook Upon a rival spouse to look.

But there my brother Lakshma? stands: Unchained is he by nuptial bands: A youth heroic, loved of all, Gracious and gallant, fair and tall.

With winning looks, most n.o.bly bred, Unmatched till now, he longs to wed.

Meet to enjoy thy youthful charms, O take him to thy loving arms.

Enamoured on his bosom lie, Fair damsel of the radiant eye, As the warm sunlight loves to rest Upon her darling Meru's breast."

The hero spoke, the monster heard, While pa.s.sion still her bosom stirred.

Away from Rama's side she broke, And thus in turn to Lakshma? spoke: "Come, for thy bride take me who s.h.i.+ne In fairest grace that suits with thine.

Thou by my side from grove to grove Of Da??ak's wild in bliss shalt rove."

Then Lakshma?, skilled in soft address, Wooed by the amorous giantess, With art to turn her love aside, To Surpa?akha thus replied:

"And can so high a dame agree The slave-wife of a slave to be?

I, lotus-hued! in good and ill Am bondsman to my brother's will.

Be thou, fair creature radiant-eyed, My honoured brother's younger bride: With faultless tint and dainty limb, A happy wife, bring joy to him.

He from his spouse grown old and grey, Deformed, untrue, will turn away, Her withered charms will gladly leave, And to his fair young darling cleave.

For who could be so fond and blind, O loveliest of all female kind, To love another dame and slight Thy beauties rich in all delight?"

Thus Lakshma? praised in scornful jest The long-toothed fiend with loathly breast, Who fondly heard his speech, nor knew His mocking words were aught but true.

Again inflamed with love she fled To Rama, in his leafy shed Where Sita rested by his side, And to the mighty victor cried:

"What, Rama, canst thou blindly cling To this old false misshapen thing?

Wilt thou refuse the charms of youth For withered breast and grinning tooth!

Canst thou this wretched creature prize And look on me with scornful eyes?

This aged crone this very hour Before thy face will I devour: Then joyous, from all rivals free.

Through Da??ak will I stray with thee."

She spoke, and with a glance of flame Rushed on the fawn-eyed Maithil dame: So would a horrid meteor mar Fair Rohi?i's soft beaming star.

But as the furious fiend drew near, Like Death's dire noose which chills with fear, The mighty chief her purpose stayed, And spoke, his brother to upbraid: "Ne'er should we jest with creatures rude, Of savage race and wrathful mood.

Think, Lakshma?, think how nearly slain My dear Videhan breathes again.

Let not the hideous wretch escape Without a mark to mar her shape.

Strike, lord of men, the monstrous fiend, Deformed, and foul, and evil-miened."

He spoke: then Lakshma?'s wrath rose high, And there before his brother's eye, He drew that sword which none could stay, And cleft her nose and ears away.

Noseless and earless, torn and maimed, With fearful shrieks the fiend exclaimed, And frantic in her wild distress Resought the distant wilderness.

Deformed, terrific, huge, and dread, As on she moved, her gashes bled, And groan succeeded groan as loud As roars, ere rain, the thunder cloud.

Still on the fearful monster pa.s.sed, While streams of blood kept falling fast, And with a roar, and arms outspread Within the boundless wood she fled.

To Janasthan the monster flew; Fierce Khara there she found, With chieftains of the giant crew In thousands ranged around.

Before his awful feet she bent And fell with piercing cries, As when a bolt in swift descent Comes flas.h.i.+ng from the skies.

There for a while with senses dazed Silent she lay and scared: At length her drooping head she raised, And all the tale declared, How Rama, Lakshma?, and the dame Had reached that lonely place: Then told her injuries and shame, And showed her bleeding face.

Canto XIX. The Rousing Of Khara.

When Khara saw his sister lie With blood-stained limbs and troubled eye, Wild fury in his bosom woke, And thus the monstrous giant spoke;

"Arise, my sister; cast away This numbing terror and dismay, And straight the impious hand declare That marred those features once so fair.

For who his finger tip will lay On the black snake in childish play, And unattacked, with idle stroke His poison-laden fang provoke?

Ill-fated fool, he little knows Death's noose around his neck he throws, Who rashly met thee, and a draught Of life-destroying poison quaffed.

Strong, fierce as death, 'twas thine to choose Thy way at will, each shape to use; In power and might like one of us: What hand has maimed and marred thee thus?

What G.o.d or fiend this deed has wrought, What bard or sage of lofty thought Was armed with power supremely great Thy form to mar and mutilate?

In all the worlds not one I see Would dare a deed to anger me: Not Indra's self, the Thousand-eyed, Beneath whose hand fierce Paka(459) died.

My life-destroying darts this day His guilty breath shall rend away, E'en as the thirsty wild swan drains Each milk-drop that the wave retains.

Whose blood in foaming streams shall burst O'er the dry ground which lies athirst, When by my shafts transfixed and slain He falls upon the battle plain?

From whose dead corpse shall birds of air The mangled flesh and sinews tear, And in their gory feast delight, When I have slain him in the fight?

Not G.o.d or bard or wandering ghost, No giant of our mighty host Shall step between us, or avail To save the wretch when I a.s.sail.

Collect each scattered sense, recall Thy troubled thoughts, and tell me all.

What wretch attacked thee in the way, And quelled thee in victorious fray?"

His breast with burning fury fired, Thus Khara of the fiend inquired: And then with many a tear and sigh Thus Surpa?akha made reply: "'Tis Dasaratha's sons, a pair Strong, resolute, and young, and fair: In coats of dark and blackdeer's hide, And like the radiant lotus eyed: On berries roots and fruit they feed, And lives of saintly virtue lead: With ordered senses undefiled, Rama and Lakshma? are they styled.

Fair as the Minstrels' King(460) are they, And stamped with signs of regal sway.

I know not if the heroes trace Their line from G.o.ds or Danav(461) race.

There by these wondering eyes between The n.o.ble youths a dame was seen, Fair, blooming, young, with dainty waist, And all her bright apparel graced.

For her with ready heart and mind The royal pair their strength combined, And brought me to this last distress, Like some lost woman, comfortless.

Perfidious wretch! my soul is fain Her foaming blood and theirs to drain.

O let me head the vengeful fight, And with this hand my murderers smite.