The Ramayana Part 95

Canto XXIX. Khara's Defeat.

When Rama saw the giant nigh, On foot, alone, with mace reared high, In mild reproof at first he spoke, Then forth his threatening anger broke: "Thou with the host 'twas thine to lead, With elephant and car and steed, Hast wrought an act of sin and shame, An act which all who live must blame.

Know that the wretch whose evil mind Joys in the grief of human kind, Though the three worlds confess him lord, Must perish dreaded and abhorred.

Night-rover, when a villain's deeds Distress the world he little heeds, Each hand is armed his life to take, And crush him like a deadly snake.

The end is near when men begin Through greed or l.u.s.t a life of sin, E'en as a Brahman's dame, unwise, Eats of the fallen hail(475) and dies.

Thy hand has slain the pure and good, The hermit saints of Da??ak wood, Of holy life, the heirs of bliss; And thou shalt reap the fruit of this.

Not long shall they whose cruel b.r.e.a.s.t.s Joy in the sin the world detests Retain their guilty power and pride, But fade like trees whose roots are dried.

Yes, as the seasons come and go, Each tree its kindly fruit must show, And sinners reap in fitting time The harvest of each earlier crime.

As those must surely die who eat Unwittingly of poisoned meat, They too whose lives in sin are spent Receive ere long the punishment.

And know, thou rover of the night, That I, a king, am sent to smite The wicked down, who court the hate Of men whose laws they violate.

This day my vengeful hand shall send Shafts bright with gold to tear and rend, And pa.s.s with fury through thy breast As serpents pierce an emmet's nest.

Thou with thy host this day shalt be Among the dead below, and see The saints beneath thy hand who bled, Whose flesh thy cruel maw has fed.

They, glorious on their seats of gold, Their slayer shall in h.e.l.l behold.

Fight with all strength thou callest thine, Mean scion of ign.o.ble line, Still, like the palm-tree's fruit, this day My shafts thy head in dust shall lay."

Such were the words that Rama said: Then Khara's eyes with wrath glowed red, Who, maddened by the rage that burned Within him, with a smile returned:

"Thou Dasaratha's son, hast slain The meaner giants of my train: And canst thou idly vaunt thy might And claim the praise not thine by right?

Not thus in self-laudation rave The truly great, the n.o.bly brave: No empty boasts like thine disgrace The foremost of the human race.

The mean of soul, unknown to fame, Who taint their warrior race with shame, Thus speak in senseless pride as thou, O Raghu's son, hast boasted now.

What hero, when the war-cry rings, Vaunts the high race from which he springs, Or seeks, when warriors meet and die, His own descent to glorify?

Weakness and folly show confessed In every vaunt thou utterest, As when the flames fed high with gra.s.s Detect the simulating bra.s.s.

Dost thou not see me standing here Armed with the mighty mace I rear, Firm as an earth upholding hill Whose summit veins of metal fill?

Lo, here I stand before thy face To slay thee with my murderous mace, As Death, the universal lord, Stands threatening with his fatal cord.

Enough of this. Much more remains That should be said: but time constrains.

Ere to his rest the sun descend, And shades of night the combat end, The twice seven thousand of my band Who fell beneath thy b.l.o.o.d.y hand Shall have their tears all wiped away And triumph in thy fall to-day."

He spoke, and loosing from his hold His mighty mace ringed round with gold, Like some red bolt alive with fire Hurled it at Rama, mad with ire.

The ponderous mace which Khara threw Sent fiery flashes as it flew.

Trees, shrubs were scorched beneath the blast, As onward to its aim it pa.s.sed.

But Rama, watching as it sped Dire as His noose who rules the dead, Cleft it with arrows as it came On rus.h.i.+ng with a hiss and flame.

Its fury spent and burnt away, Harmless upon the ground it lay Like a great snake in furious mood By herbs of numbing power subdued.

Canto x.x.x. Khara's Death.

When Rama, pride of Raghu's race, Virtue's dear son, had cleft the mace, Thus with superior smile the best Of chiefs the furious fiend addressed:

"Thou, worst of giant blood, at length Hast shown the utmost of thy strength, And forced by greater might to bow, Thy vaunting threats are idle now.

My shafts have cut thy club in twain: Useless it lies upon the plain, And all thy pride and haughty trust Lie with it levelled in the dust.

The words that thou hast said to-day, That thou wouldst wipe the tears away Of all the giants I have slain, My deeds shall render void and vain.

Thou meanest of the giants' breed, Evil in thought and word and deed, My hand shall take that life of thine As Garu?(476) seized the juice divine.

Thou, rent by shafts, this day shalt die: Low on the ground thy corse shall lie, And bubbles from the cloven neck With froth and blood thy skin shall deck.

With dust and mire all rudely dyed, Thy torn arms lying by thy side, While streams of blood each limb shall steep, Thou on earth's breast shalt take thy sleep Like a fond lover when he strains The beauty whom at length he gains.

Now when thy heavy eyelids close For ever in thy deep repose, Again shall Da??ak forest be Safe refuge for the devotee.

Thou slain, and all thy race who held The realm of Janasthan expelled, Again shall happy hermits rove, Fearing no danger, through the grove.

Within those bounds, their brethren slain, No giant shall this day remain, But all shall fly with many a tear And fearing, rid the saints of fear.

This bitter day shall misery bring On all the race that calls thee king.

Fierce as their lord, thy dames shall know, Bereft of joys, the taste of woe.

Base, cruel wretch, of evil mind, Plaguer of Brahmans and mankind, With trembling hands each devotee Feeds holy fires in dread of thee."

Thus with wild fury unrepressed Raghu's brave son the fiend addressed; And Khara, as his wrath grew high, Thus thundered forth his fierce reply:

"By senseless pride to madness wrought, By danger girt thou fearest naught, Nor heedest, numbered with the dead, What thou shouldst say and leave unsaid.

When Fate's tremendous coils enfold The captive in resistless hold, He knows not right from wrong, each sense Numbed by that deadly influence."

He spoke, and when his speech was done Bent his fierce brows on Raghu's son.

With eager eyes he looked around If lethal arms might yet be found.

Not far away and full in view A Sal-tree towering upward grew.

His lips in mighty strain compressed, He tore it up with root and crest, With huge arms waved it o'er his head And hurled it shouting, Thou art dead.

But Rama, unsurpa.s.sed in might, Stayed with his shafts its onward flight, And furious longing seized his soul The giant in the dust to roll.

Great drops of sweat each limb bedewed, His red eyes showed his wrathful mood.

A thousand arrows, swiftly sent, The giant's bosom tore and rent.

From every gash his body showed The blood in foamy torrents flowed, As springing from their caverns leap Swift rivers down the mountain steep.

When Khara felt each deadened power Yielding beneath that murderous shower, He charged, infuriate with the scent Of blood, in dire bewilderment.

But Rama watched, with ready bow, The onset of his bleeding foe, And ere the monster reached him, drew Backward in haste a yard or two.

Then from his side a shaft he took Whose mortal stroke no life might brook: Of peerless might, it bore the name Of Brahma's staff, and glowed with flame: Lord Indra, ruler of the skies, Himself had given the glorious prize.

His bow the virtuous hero drew, And at the fiend the arrow flew.

Hissing and roaring like the blast Of tempest through the air it pa.s.sed, And fixed, by Rama's vigour sped, In the foe's breast its pointed head.

Then fell the fiend: the quenchless flame Burnt furious in his wounded frame.

So burnt by Rudra Andhak(477) fell In Svetara?ya's silvery dell: So Namuchi and Vritra(478) died By steaming bolts that tamed their pride: So Bala(479) fell by lightning sent By Him who rules the firmament.

Then all the G.o.ds in close array With the bright hosts who sing and play, Filled full of rapture and amaze, Sang hymns of joy in Rama's praise, Beat their celestial drums and shed Rain of sweet flowers upon his head.

For three short hours had scarcely flown, And by his pointed shafts o'erthrown The twice seven thousand fiends, whose will Could change their shapes, in death were still, With Trisiras and Dusha? slain, And Khara, leader of the train.

"O wondrous deed," the bards began, "The n.o.blest deed of virtuous man!

Heroic strength that stood alone, And firmness e'en as Vish?u's own!"

Thus having sung, the s.h.i.+ning train Turned to their heavenly homes again.

Then the high saints of royal race And loftiest station sought the place, And by the great Agastya led, With reverence to Rama said:

"For this, Lord Indra, glorious sire, Majestic as the burning fire, Who crushes cities in his rage, Sought Sarabhanga's hermitage.

Thou wast, this great design to aid, Led by the saints to seek this shade, And with thy mighty arm to kill The giants who delight in ill.

Thou Dasaratha's n.o.ble son, The battle for our sake hast won, And saints in Da??ak's wild who live Their days to holy tasks can give."

Forth from the mountain cavern came The hero Lakshma? with the dame.

And rapture beaming from his face, Resought the hermit dwelling-place.

Then when the mighty saints had paid Due honour for the victor's aid, The glorious Rama honoured too By Lakshma? to his cot withdrew.

When Sita looked upon her lord, His foemen slain, the saints restored, In pride and rapture uncontrolled She clasped him in her loving hold.

On the dead fiends her glances fell: She saw her lord alive and well, Victorious after toil and pain, And Janak's child was blest again.

Once more, once more with new delight Her tender arms she threw Round Rama whose victorious might Had crushed the demon crew.

Then as his grateful reverence paid Each saint of lofty soul, O'er her sweet face, all fears allayed, The flush of transport stole.