The Sanskrit Epics

by Delphi Classics

  The vast assembly shone as fair

  With Bharat’s kingly face

  As Daśaratha’s self were there

  To glorify the place.

  It gleamed like some unruffled lake

  Where monsters huge of mould

  With many a snake their pastime take

  O’er shells, sand, gems, and gold.

  Canto LXXXII. The Departure.

  THE PRUDENT PRINCE the assembly viewed

  Thronged with its noble multitude,

  Resplendent as a cloudless night

  When the full moon is in his height;

  While robes of every varied hue

  A glory o’er the synod threw.

  The priest in lore of duty skilled

  Looked on the crowd the hall that filled,

  And then in accents soft and grave

  To Bharat thus his counsel gave:

  “The king, dear son, so good and wise,

  Has gone from earth and gained the skies,

  Leaving to thee, her rightful lord,

  This rich wide land with foison stored.

  And still has faithful Ráma stood

  Firm to the duty of the good,

  And kept his father’s hest aright,

  As the moon keeps its own dear light.

  Thus sire and brother yield to thee

  This realm from all annoyance free:

  Rejoice thy lords: enjoy thine own:

  Anointed king, ascend the throne.

  Let vassal Princes hasten forth

  From distant lands, west, south, and north,

  From Kerala,360 from every sea,

  And bring ten million gems to thee.”

  As thus the sage Vaśishṭha spoke,

  A storm of grief o’er Bharat broke.

  And longing to be just and true,

  His thoughts to duteous Ráma flew.

  With sobs and sighs and broken tones,

  E’en as a wounded mallard moans,

  He mourned with deepest sorrow moved,

  And thus the holy priest reproved:

  “O, how can such as Bharat dare

  The power and sway from him to tear,

  Wise, and devout, and true, and chaste,

  With Scripture lore and virtue graced?

  Can one of Daśaratha’s seed

  Be guilty of so vile a deed?

  The realm and I are Ráma’s: thou,

  Shouldst speak the words of justice now.

  For he, to claims of virtue true,

  Is eldest born and noblest too:

  Nahush, Dilípa could not be

  More famous in their lives than he.

  As Daśaratha ruled of right,

  So Ráma’s is the power and right.

  If I should do this sinful deed

  And forfeit hope of heavenly meed,

  My guilty act would dim the shine

  Of old Ikshváku’s glorious line.

  Nay, as the sin my mother wrought

  Is grievous to my inmost thought,

  I here, my hands together laid,

  Will greet him in the pathless shade.

  To Ráma shall my steps be bent,

  My King, of men most excellent,

  Raghu’s illustrious son, whose sway

  Might hell, and earth, and heaven obey.”

  That righteous speech, whose every word

  Bore virtue’s stamp, the audience heard;

  On Ráma every thought was set,

  And with glad tears each eye was wet.

  “Then, if the power I still should lack

  To bring my noble brother back,

  I in the wood will dwell, and share

  His banishment with Lakshmaṇ there.

  By every art persuasive I

  To bring him from the wood will try,

  And show him to your loving eyes,

  O Bráhmans noble, good, and wise.

  E’en now, the road to make and clear,

  Each labourer pressed, and pioneer

  Have I sent forward to precede

  The army I resolve to lead.”

  Thus, by fraternal love possessed,

  His firm resolve the prince expressed,

  Then to Sumantra, deeply read

  In holy texts, he turned and said:

  “Sumantra, rise without delay,

  And as I bid my words obey.

  Give orders for the march with speed,

  And all the army hither lead.”

  The wise Sumantra, thus addressed,

  Obeyed the high-souled chief’s behest.

  He hurried forth with joy inspired

  And gave the orders he desired.

  Delight each soldier’s bosom filled,

  And through each chief and captain thrilled,

  To hear that march proclaimed, to bring

  Dear Ráma back from wandering.

  From house to house the tidings flew:

  Each soldier’s wife the order knew,

  And as she listened blithe and gay

  Her husband urged to speed away.

  Captain and soldier soon declared

  The host equipped and all prepared

  With chariots matching thought for speed,

  And wagons drawn by ox and steed.

  When Bharat by Vaśishṭha’s side,

  His ready host of warriors eyed,

  Thus in Sumantra’s ear he spoke:

  “My car and horses quickly yoke.”

  Sumantra hastened to fulfil

  With ready joy his master’s will,

  And quickly with the chariot sped

  Drawn by fleet horses nobly bred.

  Then glorious Bharat, true, devout,

  Whose genuine valour none could doubt,

  Gave in fit words his order out;

  For he would seek the shade

  Of the great distant wood, and there

  Win his dear brother with his prayer:

  “Sumantra, haste! my will declare

  The host be all arrayed.

  I to the wood my way will take,

  To Ráma supplication make,

  And for the world’s advantage sake,

  Will lead him home again.”

  Then, ordered thus, the charioteer

  Who listened with delighted ear,

  Went forth and gave his orders clear

  To captains of the train.

  He gave the popular chiefs the word,

  And with the news his friends he stirred,

  And not a single man deferred

  Preparing for the road.

  Then Bráhman, Warrior, Merchant, thrall,

  Obedient to Sumantra’s call,

  Each in his house arose, and all

  Yoked elephant or camel tall,

  Or ass or noble steed in stall,

  And full appointed showed.

  Canto LXXXIII. The Journey Begun.

  THEN BHARAT ROSE at early morn,

  And in his noble chariot borne

  Drove forward at a rapid pace

  Eager to look on Ráma’s face.

  The priests and lords, a fair array,

  In sun-bright chariots led the way.

  Behind, a well appointed throng,

  Nine thousand elephants streamed along.

  Then sixty thousand cars, and then,

  With various arms, came fighting men.

  A hundred thousand archers showed

  In lengthened line the steeds they rode —

  A mighty host, the march to grace

  Of Bharat, pride of Raghu’s race.

  Kaikeyí and Sumitrá came,

  And good Kauśalyá, dear to fame:

  By hopes of Ráma’s coming cheered

  They in a radiant car appeared.

  On fared the noble host to see

  Ráma and Lakshmaṇ, wild with glee,

  And still each other’s ear to please,

  Of Ráma spoke in words like these:

  “When shall our happy eyes behold<
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  Our hero true, and pure, and bold,

  So lustrous dark, so strong of arm,

  Who keeps the world from woe and harm?

  The tears that now our eyeballs dim

  Will vanish at the sight of him,

  As the whole world’s black shadows fly

  When the bright sun ascends the sky.”

  Conversing thus their way pursued

  The city’s joyous multitude,

  And each in mutual rapture pressed

  A friend or neighbour to his breast.

  Thus every man of high renown,

  And every merchant of the town,

  And leading subjects, joyous went

  Toward Ráma in his banishment.

  And those who worked the potter’s wheel,

  And artists skilled in gems to deal;

  And masters of the weaver’s art,

  And those who shaped the sword and dart;

  And they who golden trinkets made,

  And those who plied the fuller’s trade;

  And servants trained the bath to heat,

  And they who dealt in incense sweet;

  Physicians in their business skilled,

  And those who wine and mead distilled;

  And workmen deft in glass who wrought,

  And those whose snares the peacock caught;

  With them who bored the ear for rings,

  Or sawed, or fashioned ivory things;

  And those who knew to mix cement,

  Or lived by sale of precious scent;

  And men who washed, and men who sewed,

  And thralls who mid the herds abode;

  And fishers of the flood, and they

  Who played and sang, and women gay;

  And virtuous Bráhmans, Scripture-wise,

  Of life approved in all men’s eyes;

  These swelled the prince’s lengthened train,

  Borne each in car or bullock wain.

  Fair were the robes they wore upon

  Their limbs where red-hued unguents shone.

  These all in various modes conveyed

  Their journey after Bharat made;

  The soldiers’ hearts with rapture glowed,

  Following Bharat on his road,

  Their chief whose tender love would fain

  Bring his dear brother home again.

  With elephant, and horse, and car,

  The vast procession travelled far,

  And came where Gangá’s waves below

  The town of Śringavera361 flow.

  There, with his friends and kinsmen nigh,

  Dwelt Guha, Ráma’s dear ally,

  Heroic guardian of the land

  With dauntless heart and ready hand.

  There for a while the mighty force

  That followed Bharat stayed its course,

  Gazing on Gangá’s bosom stirred

  By many a graceful water-bird.

  When Bharat viewed his followers there,

  And Gangá’s water, blest and fair,

  The prince, who lore of words possessed,

  His councillors and lords addressed:

  “The captains of the army call:

  Proclaim this day a halt for all,

  That so to-morrow, rested, we

  May cross this flood that seeks the sea.

  Meanwhile, descending to the shore,

  The funeral stream I fain would pour

  From Gangá’s fair auspicious tide

  To him, my father glorified.”

  Thus Bharat spoke: each peer and lord

  Approved his words with one accord,

  And bade the weary troops repose

  In separate spots where’er they chose.

  There by the mighty stream that day,

  Most glorious in its vast array

  The prince’s wearied army lay

  In various groups reclined.

  There Bharat’s hours of night were spent,

  While every eager thought he bent

  On bringing home from banishment

  His brother, great of mind.

  Canto LXXXIV. Guha’s Anger.

  KING GUHA SAW the host spread o’er

  The wide expanse of Gangá’s shore,

  With waving flag and pennon graced,

  And to his followers spoke in haste:

  “A mighty army meets my eyes,

  That rivals Ocean’s self in size:

  Where’er I look my very mind

  No limit to the host can find.

  Sure Bharat with some evil thought

  His army to our land has brought.

  See, huge of form, his flag he rears,

  That like an Ebony-tree appears.

  He comes with bonds to take and chain,

  Or triumph o’er our people slain:

  And after, Ráma will he slay, —

  Him whom his father drove away:

  The power complete he longs to gain,

  And — task too hard — usurp the reign.

  So Bharat comes with wicked will

  His brother Ráma’s blood to spill.

  But Ráma’s slave and friend am I;

  He is my lord and dear ally.

  Keep here your watch in arms arrayed

  Near Gangá’s flood to lend him aid,

  And let my gathered servants stand

  And line with troops the river strand.

  Here let the river keepers meet,

  Who flesh and roots and berries eat;

  A hundred fishers man each boat

  Of the five hundred here afloat,

  And let the youthful and the strong

  Assemble in defensive throng.

  But yet, if, free from guilty thought

  ‘Gainst Ráma, he this land have sought,

  The prince’s happy host to-day

  Across the flood shall make its way.”

  He spoke: then bearing in a dish

  A gift of honey, meat, and fish,

  The king of the Nishádas drew

  Toward Bharat for an interview.

  When Bharat’s noble charioteer

  Observed the monarch hastening near,

  He duly, skilled in courteous lore,

  The tidings to his master bore:

  “This aged prince who hither bends

  His footsteps with a thousand friends,

  Knows, firm ally of Ráma, all

  That may in Daṇḍak wood befall:

  Therefore, Kakutstha’s son, admit

  The monarch, as is right and fit:

  For doubtless he can clearly tell

  Where Ráma now and Lakshmaṇ dwell.”

  When Bharat heard Sumantra’s rede,

  To his fair words the prince agreed:

  “Go quickly forth,” he cried, “and bring

  Before my face the aged king.”

  King Guha, with his kinsmen near,

  Rejoiced the summoning to hear:

  He nearer drew, bowed low his head,

  And thus to royal Bharat said:

  “No mansions can our country boast,

  And unexpected comes thy host:

  But what we have I give thee all:

  Rest in the lodging of thy thrall.

  See, the Nishádas here have brought

  The fruit and roots their hands have sought:

  And we have woodland fare beside,

  And store of meat both fresh and dried.

  To rest their weary limbs, I pray

  This night at least thy host may stay:

  Then cheered with all we can bestow

  To-morrow thou with it mayst go.”

  Canto LXXXV. Guha And Bharat.

  THUS THE NISHÁDAS’ king besought:

  The prince with spirit wisdom-fraught

  Replied in seemly words that blent

  Deep matter with the argument:

  “Thou, friend of him whom I revere,

  With honours high hast met me here,

  For thou alone wouldst ente
rtain

  And feed to-day so vast a train.”

  In such fair words the prince replied,

  Then, pointing to the path he cried:

  “Which way aright will lead my feet

  To Bharadvája’s calm retreat;

  For all this land near Gangá’s streams

  Pathless and hard to traverse seems?”

  Thus spoke the prince: King Guha heard

  Delighted every prudent word,

  And gazing on that forest wide,

  Raised suppliant hands, and thus replied:

  “My servants, all the ground who know,

  O glorious Prince, with thee shall go

  With constant care thy way to guide,

  And I will journey by thy side.

  But this thy host so wide dispread

  Wakes in my heart one doubt and dread,

  Lest, threatening Ráma good and great,

  Ill thoughts thy journey stimulate.”

  But when King Guha, ill at ease,

  Declared his fear in words like these,

  As pure as is the cloudless sky

  With soft voice Bharat made reply:

  “Suspect me not: ne’er come the time

  For me to plot so foul a crime!

  He is my eldest brother, he

  Is like a father dear to me.

  I go to lead my brother thence

  Who makes the wood his residence.

  No thought but this thy heart should frame:

  This simple truth my lips proclaim.”

  Then with glad cheer King Guha cried,

  With Bharat’s answer gratified:

  “Blessed art thou: on earth I see

  None who may vie, O Prince, with thee,

  Who canst of thy free will resign

  The kingdom which unsought is thine.

  For this, a name that ne’er shall die,

  Thy glory through the worlds shall fly,

  Who fain wouldst balm thy brother’s pain

  And lead the exile home again.”

  As Guha thus, and Bharat, each

  To other spoke in friendly speech,

  The Day-God sank with glory dead,

  And night o’er all the sky was spread.

  Soon as King Guha’s thoughtful care

  Had quartered all the army there,

  Well honoured, Bharat laid his head

  Beside Śatrughna on a bed.

  But grief for Ráma yet oppressed

  High-minded Bharat’s faithful breast —

  Such torment little was deserved

  By him who ne’er from duty swerved.

  The fever raged through every vein

  And burnt him with its inward pain:

  So when in woods the flames leap free

  The fire within consumes the tree.

  From heat of burning anguish sprung

  The sweat upon his body hung,

  As when the sun with fervid glow