The Sanskrit Epics

by Delphi Classics

  Now, Lakshmaṇ, we are near the place:

  Do thou precede a little space,

  And tell the mighty saint that I

  With Sítá at my side am nigh.”

  Canto XII. The Heavenly Bow.

  HE SPOKE: THE younger prince obeyed:

  Within the bounds his way he made,

  And thus addressed, whom first he met,

  A pupil of the anchoret:

  “Brave Ráma, eldest born, who springs,

  From Daśaratha, hither brings

  His wife the lady Sítá: he

  Would fain the holy hermit see.

  Lakshmaṇ am I — if happy fame

  E’er to thine ears has brought the name —

  His younger brother, prompt to do

  His will, devoted, fond, and true.

  We, through our royal sire’s decree,

  To the dread woods were forced to flee.

  Tell the great Master, I entreat,

  Our earnest wish our lord to greet.”

  He spoke: the hermit rich in store

  Of fervid zeal and sacred lore,

  Sought the pure shrine which held the fire,

  To bear his message to the sire.

  Soon as he reached the saint most bright

  In sanctity’s surpassing might,

  He cried, uplifting reverent hands:

  “Lord Ráma near thy cottage stands.”

  Then spoke Agastya’s pupil dear

  The message for his lord to hear:

  “Ráma and Lakshmaṇ, chiefs who spring

  From Daśaratha, glorious king,

  Thy hermitage e’en now have sought,

  And lady Sítá with them brought.

  The tamers of the foe are here

  To see thee, Master, and revere.

  ’Tis thine thy further will to say:

  Deign to command, and we obey.”

  When from his pupil’s lips he knew

  The presence of the princely two,

  And Sítá born to fortune high.

  The glorious hermit made reply:

  “Great joy at last is mine this day

  That Ráma hither finds his way,

  For long my soul has yearned to see

  The prince who comes to visit me.

  Go forth, go forth, and hither bring

  The royal three with welcoming:

  Lead Ráma in and place him near:

  Why stands he not already here?”

  Thus ordered by the hermit, who,

  Lord of his thought, all duty knew,

  His reverent hands together laid,

  The pupil answered and obeyed.

  Forth from the place with speed he ran,

  To Lakshmaṇ came and thus began:

  “Where is he? let not Ráma wait,

  But speed, the sage to venerate.”

  Then with the pupil Lakshmaṇ went

  Across the hermit settlement,

  And showed him Ráma where he stood

  With Janak’s daughter in the wood.

  The pupil then his message spake

  Which the kind hermit bade him take;

  Then led the honoured Ráma thence

  And brought him in with reverence.

  As nigh the royal Ráma came

  With Lakshmaṇ and the Maithil dame,

  He viewed the herds of gentle deer

  Roaming the garden free from fear.

  As through the sacred grove he trod

  He viewed the seat of many a God,

  Brahmá and Agni,429 Sun and Moon,

  And His who sends each golden boon;430

  Here Vishṇu’s stood, there Bhaga’s431 shrine,

  And there Mahendra’s, Lord divine;

  Here His who formed this earthly frame,432

  His there from whom all beings came.433

  Váyu’s,434 and His who loves to hold

  The great noose, Varuṇ435 mighty-souled:

  Here was the Vasus’436 shrine to see,

  Here that of sacred Gáyatrí,437

  The king of serpents438 here had place,

  And he who rules the feathered race.439

  Here Kártikeya,440 warrior lord,

  And there was Justice King adored.

  Then with disciples girt about

  The mighty saint himself came out:

  Through fierce devotion bright as flame

  Before the rest the Master came:

  And then to Lakshmaṇ, fortune blest,

  Ráma these hasty words addressed:

  “Behold, Agastya’s self draws near,

  The mighty saint, whom all revere:

  With spirit raised I meet my lord

  With richest wealth of penance stored.”

  The strong-armed hero spake, and ran

  Forward to meet the sunbright man.

  Before him, as he came, he bent

  And clasped his feet most reverent,

  Then rearing up his stately height

  Stood suppliant by the anchorite,

  While Lakshmaṇ’s strength and Sítá’s grace

  Stood by the pride of Raghu’s race.

  The sage his arms round Ráma threw

  And welcomed him with honours due,

  Asked, was all well, with question sweet,

  And bade the hero to a seat.

  With holy oil he fed the flame,

  He brought the gifts which strangers claim,

  And kindly waiting on the three

  With honours due to high degree,

  He gave with hospitable care

  A simple hermit’s woodland fare.

  Then sat the reverend father, first

  Of hermits, deep in duty versed.

  And thus to suppliant Ráma, bred

  In all the lore of virtue, said:

  “Did the false hermit, Prince, neglect

  To hail his guest with due respect,

  He must, — the doom the perjured meet, —

  His proper flesh hereafter eat.

  A car-borne king, a lord who sways

  The earth, and virtue’s law obeys,

  Worthy of highest honour, thou

  Hast sought, dear guest, my cottage now.”

  He spoke: with fruit and hermit fare,

  With every bloom the branches bare,

  Agastya graced his honoured guest,

  And thus with gentle words addressed:

  “Accept this mighty bow, divine,

  Whereon red gold and diamonds shine;

  ’Twas by the Heavenly Artist planned

  For Vishṇu’s own almighty hand;

  This God-sent shaft of sunbright hue,

  Whose deadly flight is ever true,

  By Lord Mahendra given of yore:

  This quiver with its endless store.

  Keen arrows hurtling to their aim

  Like kindled fires that flash and flame:

  Accept, in golden sheath encased,

  This sword with hilt of rich gold graced.

  Armed with this best of bows

  Lord Vishṇu slew his demon foes,

  And mid the dwellers in the skies

  Won brilliant glory for his prize.

  The bow, the quivers, shaft, and sword

  Received from me, O glorious lord:

  These conquest to thine arm shall bring,

  As thunder to the thunder’s King.”

  The splendid hermit bade him take

  The noble weapons as he spake,

  And as the prince accepted each

  In words like these renewed his speech:

  Canto XIII. Agastya’s Counsel.

  “O RÁMA, GREAT delight I feel,

  Pleased, Lakshmaṇ, with thy faithful zeal,

  That you within these shades I see

  With Sítá come to honour me.

  But wandering through the rough rude wild

  Has wearied Janak’s gentle child:

  With labours of the way oppressed

  The Maithil lad
y longs for rest.

  Young, delicate, and soft, and fair,

  Such toils as these untrained to bear,

  Her wifely love the dame has led

  The forest’s troubled ways to tread.

  Here, Ráma, see that naught annoy

  Her easy hours of tranquil joy:

  A glorious task has she assayed,

  To follow thee through woodland shade.

  Since first from Nature’s hand she came,

  A woman’s mood is still the same,

  When Fortune smiles, her love to show,

  And leave her lord in want and woe.

  No pity then her heart can feel,

  She arms her soul with warrior’s steel,

  Swift as the storm or Feathered King,

  Uncertain as the lightning’s wing.

  Not so thy spouse: her purer mind

  Shrinks from the faults of womankind;

  Like chaste Arundhatí441 above,

  A paragon of faithful love.

  Let these blest shades, dear Ráma, be

  A home for Lakshmaṇ, her, and thee.”

  With raised hands reverently meek

  He heard the holy hermit speak,

  And humbly thus addressed the sire

  Whose glory shone like kindled fire:

  “How blest am I, what thanks I owe

  That our great Master deigns to show

  His favour, that his heart can be

  Content with Lakshmaṇ, Sítá, me.

  Show me, I pray, some spot of ground

  Where thick trees wave and springs abound,

  That I may raise my hermit cell

  And there in tranquil pleasure dwell.”

  Then thus replied Agastya, best

  Of hermits, to the chief’s request:

  When for a little he had bent

  His thoughts, upon that prayer intent:

  “Beloved son, four leagues away

  Is Panchavaṭí bright and gay:

  Thronged with its deer, most fair it looks

  With berries, fruit, and water-brooks.

  There build thee with thy brother’s aid

  A cottage in the quiet shade,

  And faithful to thy sire’s behest,

  Obedient to the sentence, rest.

  For well, O sinless chieftain, well

  I know thy tale, how all befell:

  Stern penance and the love I bore

  Thy royal sire supply the lore.

  To me long rites and fervid zeal

  The wish that stirs thy heart reveal,

  And hence my guest I bade thee be,

  That this pure grove might shelter thee.

  So now, thereafter, thus I speak:

  The shades of Panchavaṭí seek;

  That tranquil spot is bright and fair,

  And Sítá will be happy there.

  Not far remote from here it lies,

  A grove to charm thy loving eyes,

  Godávarí’s pure stream is nigh:

  There Sítá’s days will sweetly fly.

  Pure, lovely, rich in many a charm,

  O hero of the mighty arm,

  ’Tis gay with every plant and fruit,

  And throngs of gay buds never mute.

  Thou, true to virtue’s path, hast might

  To screen each trusting anchorite,

  And wilt from thy new home defend

  The hermits who on thee depend.

  Now yonder, Prince, direct thine eyes

  Where dense Madhúka442 woods arise:

  Pierce their dark shade, and issuing forth

  Turn to a fig-tree on the north:

  Then onward up a sloping mead

  Flanked by a hill the way will lead:

  There Panchavaṭí, ever gay

  With ceaseless bloom, thy steps will stay.”

  The hermit ceased: the princely two

  With seemly honours bade adieu:

  With reverential awe each youth

  Bowed to the saint whose word was truth,

  And then, dismissed with Sítá, they

  To Panchavaṭí took their way.

  Thus when each royal prince had grasped

  His warrior’s mighty bow, and clasped

  His quiver to his side,

  With watchful eyes along the road

  The glorious saint Agastya showed,

  Dauntless in fight the brothers strode,

  And Sítá with them hied.

  Canto XIV. Jatáyus.

  THEN AS THE son of Raghu made

  His way to Panchavaṭí’s shade,

  A mighty vulture he beheld

  Of size and strength unparalleled.

  The princes, when the bird they saw,

  Approached with reverence and awe,

  And as his giant form they eyed,

  “Tell who thou art,” in wonder cried.

  The bird, as though their hearts to gain,

  Addressed them thus in gentlest strain;

  “In me, dear sons, the friend behold

  Your royal father loved of old.”

  He spoke: nor long did Ráma wait

  His sire’s dear friend to venerate:

  He bade the bird declare his name

  And the high race of which he came.

  When Raghu’s son had spoken, he

  Declared his name and pedigree,

  His words prolonging to disclose

  How all the things that be arose:

  “List while I tell, O Raghu’s son,

  The first-born Fathers, one by one,

  Great Lords of Life, whence all in earth

  And all in heaven derive their birth.

  First Kardam heads the glorious race

  Where Vikrit holds the second place,

  With Śesha, Sanśray next in line,

  And Bahuputra’s might divine.

  Then Stháṇu and Maríchi came,

  Atri, and Kratu’s forceful frame.

  Pulastya followed, next to him

  Angiras’ name shall ne’er be dim.

  Prachetas, Pulah next, and then

  Daksha, Vivasvat praised of men:

  Aríshṭanemi next, and last

  Kaśyap in glory unsurpassed.

  From Daksha, — fame the tale has told — :

  Three-score bright daughters sprang of old.

  Of these fair-waisted nymphs the great

  Lord Kaśyap sought and wedded eight,

  Aditi, Diti, Kálaká,

  Támrá, Danú, and Analá,

  And Krodhavasá swift to ire,

  And Manu443 glorious as her sire.

  Then when the mighty Kaśyap cried

  Delighted to each tender bride:

  “Sons shalt thou bear, to rule the three

  Great worlds, in might resembling me.”

  Aditi, Diti, and Danú

  Obeyed his will as consorts true,

  And Kálaká; but all the rest

  Refused to hear their lord’s behest.

  First Aditi conceived, and she,

  Mother of thirty Gods and three,

  The Vasus and Ádityas bare,

  Rudras, and Aśvins, heavenly pair.

  Of Diti sprang the Daityas: fame

  Delights to laud their ancient name.

  In days of yore their empire dread

  O’er earth and woods and ocean spread.

  Danú was mother of a child,

  O hero, Aśvagríva styled,

  And Narak next and Kálak came

  Of Kálaká, celestial dame.

  Of Támrá, too, five daughters bright

  In deathless glory sprang to light.

  Ennobling fame still keeps alive

  The titles of the lovely five:

  Immortal honour still she claims

  For Kraunchí, Bhasí, Śyení’s names.

  And wills not that the world forget

  Śukí or Dhritaráshtrí yet.

  Then Kraunchí bare the crane and owl,

  And Bhá
sí tribes of water fowl:

  Vultures and hawks that race through air

  With storm-fleet pinions Śyení bare.

  All swans and geese on mere and brook

  Their birth from Dhritaráshtrí took,

  And all the river-haunting brood

  Of ducks, a countless multitude.

  From Śukí Nalá sprang, who bare

  Dame Vinatá surpassing fair.

  From fiery Krodhavaśá, ten

  Bright daughters sprang, O King of men:

  Mrigí and Mrigamandá named,

  Hari and Bhadramadá famed,

  Śárdúlí, Śvetá fair to see,

  Mátangí bright, and Surabhí,

  Surasá marked with each fair sign,

  And Kadrumá, all maids divine.

  Mrigí, O Prince without a peer,

  Was mother of the herds of deer,

  The bear, the yak, the mountain roe

  Their birth to Mrigamandá owe;

  And Bhadramadá joyed to be

  Mother of fair Irávatí,

  Who bare Airávat,444 huge of mould,

  Mid warders of the earth enrolled,

  From Harí lordly lions trace,

  With monkeys of the wild, their race.

  From the great dame Śárdúlí styled

  Sprung pards, Lángúrs,445 and tigers wild.

  Mátangí, Prince, gave birth to all

  Mátangas, elephants strong and tall,

  And Śvetá bore the beasts who stand

  One at each wind, earth’s warder band.446

  Next Surabhí the Goddess bore

  Two heavenly maids, O Prince, of yore,

  Gandharví — dear to fame is she —

  And her sweet sister Rohiṇí.

  With kine this daughter filled each mead,

  And bright Gandharví bore the steed.447

  Surasá bore the serpents:448 all

  The snakes Kadrú their mother call.

  Then Manu, high-souled Kaśyap’s449 wife,

  To all the race of men gave life,

  The Bráhmans first, the Kshatriya caste,

  Then Vaiśyas, and the Śúdras last.

  Sprang from her mouth the Bráhman race;

  Her chest the Kshatriyas’ natal place:

  The Vaiśyas from her thighs, ’tis said,

  The Śúdras from her feet were bred.

  From Analá all trees that hang

  Their fair fruit-laden branches sprang.

  The child of beauteous Śukí bore

  Vinatá, as I taught before:

  And Surasá and Kadrú were

  Born of one dame, a noble pair.

  Kadrú gave birth to countless snakes

  That roam the earth in woods and brakes.

  Aruṇ and Garuḍ swift of flight

  By Vinatá were given to light,

  And sons of Aruṇ red as morn

  Sampati first, then I was born,