The Sanskrit Epics

by Delphi Classics

  Prostrate to earth the hero fell;

  So from its seat the staff they drag,

  And cast to earth some glorious flag.

  The ministers approached again

  The prince whom rites had freed from stain;

  So when Yayáti fell, each seer,

  In pity for his fate, drew near.

  Śatrughna saw him lying low

  O’erwhelmed beneath the crush of woe,

  And as upon the king he thought,

  He fell upon the earth distraught.

  When to his loving memory came

  Those noble gifts, that kingly frame,

  He sorrowed, by his woe distressed,

  As one by frenzied rage possessed:

  “Ah me, this surging sea of woe

  Has drowned us with its overflow:

  The source is Manthará, dire and dark,

  Kaikeyí is the ravening shark:

  And the great boons the monarch gave

  Lend conquering might to every wave.

  Ah, whither wilt thou go, and leave

  Thy Bharat in his woe to grieve,

  Whom ever ’twas thy greatest joy

  To fondle as a tender boy?

  Didst thou not give with thoughtful care

  Our food, our drink, our robes to wear?

  Whose love will now for us provide,

  When thou, our king and sire, hast died?

  At such a time bereft, forlorn,

  Why is not earth in sunder torn,

  Missing her monarch’s firm control,

  His love of right, his lofty soul?

  Ah me, for Ráma roams afar,

  My sire is where the Blessed are;

  How can I live deserted? I

  Will pass into the fire and die.

  Abandoned thus, I will not brook

  Upon Ayodhyá’s town to look,

  Once guarded by Ikshváku’s race:

  The wood shall be my dwelling place.”

  Then when the princes’ mournful train

  Heard the sad brothers thus complain,

  And saw their misery, at the view

  Their grief burst wilder out anew.

  Faint with lamenting, sad and worn,

  Each like a bull with broken horn,

  The brothers in their wild despair

  Lay rolling, mad with misery, there.

  Then old Vaśishṭha good and true,

  Their father’s priest, all lore who knew,

  Raised weeping Bharat on his feet,

  And thus bespake with counsel meet:

  “Twelve days, my lord, have past away

  Since flames consumed thy father’s clay:

  Delay no more: as rules ordain,

  Gather what bones may yet remain.

  Three constant pairs are ever found

  To hem all mortal creatures round:354

  Then mourn not thus, O Prince, for none

  Their close companionship may shun.”

  Sumantra bade Śatrughna rise,

  And soothed his soul with counsel wise,

  And skilled in truth, his hearer taught

  How all things are and come to naught.

  When rose each hero from the ground,

  A lion lord of men, renowned,

  He showed like Indra’s flag,355 whereon

  Fierce rains have dashed and suns have shone.

  They wiped their red and weeping eyes,

  And gently made their sad replies:

  Then, urged to haste, the royal pair

  Performed the rites that claimed their care.

  Canto LXXVIII. Manthará Punished.

  ŚATRUGHNA THUS TO Bharat spake

  Who longed the forest road to take:

  “He who in woe was wont to give

  Strength to himself and all that live —

  Dear Ráma, true and pure in heart,

  Is banished by a woman’s art.

  Yet here was Lakshmaṇ, brave and strong,

  Could not his might prevent the wrong?

  Could not his arm the king restrain,

  Or make the banished free again?

  One loving right and fearing crime

  Had checked the monarch’s sin in time,

  When, vassal of a woman’s will,

  His feet approached the path of ill.”

  While Lakshmaṇ’s younger brother, dread

  Śatrughna, thus to Bharat said,

  Came to the fronting door, arrayed

  In glittering robes, the hump-back maid.

  There she, with sandal-oil besmeared,

  In garments meet for queens appeared:

  And lustre to her form was lent

  By many a gem and ornament.

  She girdled with her broidered zone,

  And many a chain about her thrown,

  Showed like a female monkey round

  Whose body many a string is bound.

  When on that cause of evil fell

  The quick eye of the sentinel,

  He grasped her in his ruthless hold,

  And hastening in, Śatrughna told:

  “Here is the wicked pest,” he cried,

  “Through whom the king thy father died,

  And Ráma wanders in the wood:

  Do with her as thou deemest good.”

  The warder spoke: and every word

  Śatrughna’s breast to fury stirred:

  He called the servants, all and each.

  And spake in wrath his hasty speech:

  “This is the wretch my sire who slew,

  And misery on my brothers drew:

  Let her this day obtain the meed,

  Vile sinner, of her cruel deed.”

  He spake; and moved by fury laid

  His mighty hand upon the maid,

  Who as her fellows ringed her round,

  Made with her cries the hall resound.

  Soon as the gathered women viewed

  Śatrughna in his angry mood,

  Their hearts disturbed by sudden dread,

  They turned and from his presence fled.

  “His rage,” they cried, “on us will fall,

  And ruthless, he will slay us all.

  Come, to Kauśalyá let us flee:

  Our hope, our sure defence is she,

  Approved by all, of virtuous mind,

  Compassionate, and good, and kind.”

  His eyes with burning wrath aglow,

  Śatrughna, shatterer of the foe,

  Dragged on the ground the hump-back maid

  Who shrieked aloud and screamed for aid.

  This way and that with no remorse

  He dragged her with resistless force,

  And chains and glittering trinkets burst

  Lay here and there with gems dispersed,

  Till like the sky of Autumn shone

  The palace floor they sparkled on.

  The lord of men, supremely strong,

  Haled in his rage the wretch along:

  Where Queen Kaikeyí dwelt he came,

  And sternly then addressed the dame.

  Deep in her heart Kaikeyí felt

  The stabs his keen reproaches dealt,

  And of Śatrughna’s ire afraid,

  To Bharat flew and cried for aid.

  He looked and saw the prince inflamed

  With burning rage, and thus exclaimed:

  “Forgive! thine angry arm restrain:

  A woman never may be slain.

  My hand Kaikeyí’s blood would spill,

  The sinner ever bent on ill,

  But Ráma, long in duty tried,

  Would hate the impious matricide:

  And if he knew thy vengeful blade

  Had slaughtered e’en this hump-back maid,

  Never again, be sure, would he

  Speak friendly word to thee or me.”

  When Bharat’s speech Śatrughna heard

  He calmed the rage his breast that stirred,

  Releasing from her dire constraint
r />   The trembling wretch with terror faint.

  Then to Kaikeyí’s feet she crept,

  And prostrate in her misery wept.

  Kaikeyí on the hump-back gazed,

  And saw her weep and gasp.

  Still quivering, with her senses dazed,

  From fierce Śatrughna’s grasp.

  With gentle words of pity she

  Assuaged her wild despair,

  E’en as a tender hand might free

  A curlew from the snare.

  Canto LXXIX. Bharat’s Commands.

  NOW WHEN THE sun’s returning ray

  Had ushered in the fourteenth day,

  The gathered peers of state addressed

  To Bharat’s ear their new request:

  “Our lord to heaven has parted hence,

  Long served with deepest reverence;

  Ráma, the eldest, far from home,

  And Lakshmaṇ, in the forest roam.

  O Prince, of mighty fame, be thou

  Our guardian and our monarch now,

  Lest secret plot or foeman’s hate

  Assail our unprotected state.

  With longing eyes, O Lord of men,

  To thee look friend and citizen,

  And ready is each sacred thing

  To consecrate our chosen king.

  Come, Bharat, and accept thine own

  Ancient hereditary throne.

  Thee let the priests this day install

  As monarch to preserve us all.”

  Around the sacred gear he bent

  His circling footsteps reverent,

  And, firm to vows he would not break,

  Thus to the gathered people spake:

  “The eldest son is ever king:

  So rules the house from which we spring:

  Nor should ye, Lords, like men unwise,

  With words like these to wrong advise.

  Ráma is eldest born, and he

  The ruler of the land shall be.

  Now to the woods will I repair,

  Five years and nine to lodge me there.

  Assemble straight a mighty force,

  Cars, elephants, and foot and horse,

  For I will follow on his track

  And bring my eldest brother back.

  Whate’er the rites of throning need

  Placed on a car the way shall lead:

  The sacred vessels I will take

  To the wild wood for Ráma’s sake.

  I o’er the lion prince’s head

  The sanctifying balm will shed,

  And bring him, as the fire they bring

  Forth from the shrine, with triumphing.

  Nor will I let my mother’s greed

  In this her cherished aim succeed:

  In pathless wilds will I remain,

  And Ráma here as king shall reign.

  To make the rough ways smooth and clear

  Send workman out and pioneer:

  Let skilful men attend beside

  Our way through pathless spots to guide.”

  As thus the royal Bharat spake,

  Ordaining all for Ráma’s sake,

  The audience gave with one accord

  Auspicious answer to their lord:

  “Be royal Fortune aye benign

  To thee for this good speech of thine,

  Who wishest still thine elder’s hand

  To rule with kingly sway the land.”

  Their glorious speech, their favouring cries

  Made his proud bosom swell:

  And from the prince’s noble eyes

  The tears of rapture fell.356

  Canto LXXX. The Way Prepared.

  ALL THEY WHO knew the joiner’s art,

  Or distant ground in every part;

  Each busied in his several trade,

  To work machines or ply the spade;

  Deft workmen skilled to frame the wheel,

  Or with the ponderous engine deal;

  Guides of the way, and craftsmen skilled,

  To sink the well, make bricks, and build;

  And those whose hands the tree could hew,

  And work with slips of cut bamboo,

  Went forward, and to guide them, they

  Whose eyes before had seen the way.

  Then onward in triumphant mood

  Went all the mighty multitude.

  Like the great sea whose waves leap high

  When the full moon is in the sky.

  Then, in his proper duty skilled,

  Each joined him to his several guild,

  And onward in advance they went

  With every tool and implement.

  Where bush and tangled creeper lay

  With trenchant steel they made the way;

  They felled each stump, removed each stone,

  And many a tree was overthrown.

  In other spots, on desert lands,

  Tall trees were reared by busy hands.

  Where’er the line of road they took,

  They plied the hatchet, axe, and hook.

  Others, with all their strength applied,

  Cast vigorous plants and shrubs aside,

  In shelving valleys rooted deep,

  And levelled every dale and steep.

  Each pit and hole that stopped the way

  They filled with stones, and mud, and clay,

  And all the ground that rose and fell

  With busy care was levelled well.

  They bridged ravines with ceaseless toil,

  And pounded fine the flinty soil.

  Now here, now there, to right and left,

  A passage through the ground they cleft,

  And soon the rushing flood was led

  Abundant through the new-cut bed,

  Which by the running stream supplied

  With ocean’s boundless waters vied.

  In dry and thirsty spots they sank

  Full many a well and ample tank,

  And altars round about them placed

  To deck the station in the waste.

  With well-wrought plaster smoothly spread,

  With bloomy trees that rose o’erhead,

  With banners waving in the air,

  And wild birds singing here and there,

  With fragrant sandal-water wet,

  With many a flower beside it set,

  Like the Gods’ heavenly pathway showed

  That mighty host’s imperial road.

  Deft workmen, chosen for their skill

  To do the high-souled Bharat’s will,

  In every pleasant spot where grew

  Trees of sweet fruit and fair to view,

  As he commanded, toiled to grace

  With all delights his camping-place.

  And they who read the stars, and well

  Each lucky sign and hour could tell,

  Raised carefully the tented shade

  Wherein high-minded Bharat stayed.

  With ample space of level ground,

  With broad deep moat encompassed round;

  Like Mandar in his towering pride,

  With streets that ran from side to side;

  Enwreathed with many a palace tall

  Surrounded by its noble wall;

  With roads by skilful workmen made,

  Where many a glorious banner played;

  With stately mansions, where the dove

  Sat nestling in her cote above.

  Rising aloft supremely fair

  Like heavenly cars that float in air,

  Each camp in beauty and in bliss

  Matched Indra’s own metropolis.

  As shines the heaven on some fair night,

  With moon and constellations filled,

  The prince’s royal road was bright,

  Adorned by art of workmen skilled.

  Canto LXXXI. The Assembly.

  ERE YET THE dawn had ushered in

  The day should see the march begin,

  Herald and bard who rightly knew

  Ea
ch nice degree of honour due,

  Their loud auspicious voices raised,

  And royal Bharat blessed and praised.

  With sticks of gold the drum they smote,

  Which thundered out its deafening note,

  Blew loud the sounding shell, and blent

  Each high and low-toned instrument.

  The mingled sound of drum and horn

  Through all the air was quickly borne,

  And as in Bharat’s ear it rang,

  Gave the sad prince another pang.

  Then Bharat, starting from repose,

  Stilled the glad sounds that round him rose,

  “I am not king; no more mistake:”

  Then to Śatrughna thus he spake:

  “O see what general wrongs succeed

  Sprung from Kaikeyí’s evil deed!

  The king my sire has died and thrown

  Fresh miseries on me alone.

  The royal bliss, on duty based,

  Which our just high-souled father graced,

  Wanders in doubt and sore distress

  Like a tossed vessel rudderless.

  And he who was our lordly stay

  Roams in the forest far away,

  Expelled by this my mother, who

  To duty’s law is most untrue.”

  As royal Bharat thus gave vent

  To bitter grief in wild lament,

  Gazing upon his face the crowd

  Of pitying women wept aloud.

  His lamentation scarce was o’er,

  When Saint Vaśishṭha, skilled in lore

  Of royal duty, dear to fame,

  To join the great assembly came.

  Girt by disciples ever true

  Still nearer to that hall he drew,

  Resplendent, heavenly to behold,

  Adorned with wealth of gems and gold:

  E’en so a man in duty tried

  Draws near to meet his virtuous bride.

  He reached his golden seat o’erlaid

  With coverlet of rich brocade,

  There sat, in all the Vedas read,

  And called the messengers, and said:

  “Go forth, let Bráhman, Warrior, peer,

  And every captain gather here:

  Let all attentive hither throng:

  Go, hasten: we delay too long.

  Śatrughna, glorious Bharat bring,

  The noble children of the king,357

  Yudhájit358 and Sumantra, all

  The truthful and the virtuous call.”

  He ended: soon a mighty sound

  Of thickening tumult rose around,

  As to the hall they bent their course

  With car, and elephant, and horse,

  The people all with glad acclaim

  Welcomed Prince Bharat as he came:

  E’en as they loved their king to greet,

  Or as the Gods Lord Indra359 meet.