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The Sanskrit Epics

Page 81

by Delphi Classics


  For Sítá’s loss each lofty hill

  Whose tears were waterfall, and rill,

  Lifting on high each arm-like steep,

  Seemed in the general woe to weep.

  When the great sun, the lord of day,

  Saw Rávaṇ tear the dame away,

  His glorious light began to fail

  And all his disk grew cold and pale.

  “If Rávaṇ from the forest flies

  With Ráma’s Sítá as his prize,

  Justice and truth have vanished hence,

  Honour and right and innocence.”

  Thus rose the cry of wild despair

  From spirits as they gathered there.

  In trembling troops in open lawns

  Wept, wild with woe, the startled fawns,

  And a strange terror changed the eyes

  They lifted to the distant skies.

  On silvan Gods who love the dell

  A sudden fear and trembling fell,

  As in the deepest woe they viewed

  The lady by the fiend subdued.

  Still in loud shrieks was heard afar

  That voice whose sweetness naught could mar,

  While eager looks of fear and woe

  She bent upon the earth below.

  The lady of each winning wile

  With pearly teeth and lovely smile,

  Seized by the lord of Lanká’s isle,

  Looked down for friends in vain.

  She saw no friend to aid her, none,

  Not Ráma nor the younger son

  Of Daśaratha, and undone

  She swooned with fear and pain.

  Canto LIII. Sítá’s Threats.

  SOON AS THE Maithil lady knew

  That high through air the giant flew,

  Distressed with grief and sore afraid

  Her troubled spirit sank dismayed.

  Then, as anew the waters welled

  From those red eyes which sorrow swelled,

  Forth in keen words her passion broke,

  And to the fierce-eyed fiend she spoke:

  “Canst thou attempt a deed so base,

  Untroubled by the deep disgrace, —

  To steal me from my home and fly,

  When friend or guardian none was nigh?

  Thy craven soul that longed to steal,

  Fearing the blows that warriors deal,

  Upon a magic deer relied

  To lure my husband from my side,

  Friend of his sire, the vulture king

  Lies low on earth with mangled wing,

  Who gave his aged life for me

  And died for her he sought to free.

  Ah, glorious strength indeed is thine,

  Thou meanest of thy giant line,

  Whose courage dared to tell thy name

  And conquer in the fight a dame.

  Does the vile deed that thou hast done

  Cause thee no shame, thou wicked one —

  A woman from her home to rend

  When none was near his aid to lend?

  Through all the worlds, O giant King,

  The tidings of this deed will ring,

  This deed in law and honour’s spite

  By one who claims a hero’s might.

  Shame on thy boasted valour, shame!

  Thy prowess is an empty name.

  Shame, giant, on this cursed deed

  For which thy race is doomed to bleed!

  Thou fliest swifter than the gale,

  For what can strength like thine avail?

  Stay for one hour, O Rávaṇ, stay;

  Thou shalt not flee with life away.

  Soon as the royal chieftains’ sight

  Falls on the thief who roams by night,

  Thou wilt not, tyrant, live one hour

  Though backed by all thy legions’ power.

  Ne’er can thy puny strength sustain

  The tempest of their arrowy rain:

  Have e’er the trembling birds withstood

  The wild flames raging in the wood?

  Hear me, O Rávaṇ, let me go,

  And save thy soul from coming woe.

  Or if thou wilt not set me free,

  Wroth for this insult done to me.

  With his brave brother’s aid my lord

  Against thy life will raise his sword.

  A guilty hope inflames thy breast

  His wife from Ráma’s home to wrest.

  Ah fool, the hope thou hast is vain;

  Thy dreams of bliss shall end in pain.

  If torn from all I love by thee

  My godlike lord no more I see,

  Soon will I die and end my woes,

  Nor live the captive of my foes.

  Ah fool, with blinded eyes to choose

  The evil and the good refuse!

  So the sick wretch with stubborn will

  Turns fondly to the cates that kill,

  And madly draws his lips away

  From medicine that would check decay.

  About thy neck securely wound

  The deadly coil of Fate is bound,

  And thou, O Rávaṇ, dost not fear

  Although the hour of death is near.

  With death-doomed sight thine eyes behold

  The gleaming of the trees of gold, —

  See dread Vaitaraṇi, the flood

  That rolls a stream of foamy blood, —

  See the dark wood by all abhorred —

  Its every leaf a threatening sword.

  The tangled thickets thou shall tread

  Where thorns with iron points are spread.

  For never can thy days be long,

  Base plotter of this shame and wrong

  To Ráma of the lofty soul:

  He dies who drinks the poisoned bowl.

  The coils of death around thee lie:

  They hold thee and thou canst not fly.

  Ah whither, tyrant, wouldst thou run

  The vengeance of my lord to shun?

  By his unaided arm alone

  Were twice seven thousand fiends o’erthrown:

  Yes, in the twinkling of an eye

  He forced thy mightiest fiends to die.

  And shall that lord of lion heart,

  Skilled in the bow and spear and dart,

  Spare thee, O fiend, in battle strife,

  The robber of his darling wife?”

  These were her words, and more beside,

  By wrath and bitter hate supplied.

  Then by her woe and fear o’erthrown

  She wept again and made her moan.

  As long she wept in grief and dread,

  Scarce conscious of the words she said,

  The wicked giant onward fled

  And bore her through the air.

  As firm he held the Maithil dame,

  Still wildly struggling, o’er her frame

  With grief and bitter misery came

  The trembling of despair.

  Canto LIV. Lanká.

  HE BORE HER on in rapid flight,

  And not a friend appeared in sight.

  But on a hill that o’er the wood

  Raised its high top five monkeys stood.

  From her fair neck her scarf she drew,

  And down the glittering vesture flew.

  With earring, necklet, chain, and gem,

  Descending in the midst of them:

  “For these,” she thought, “my path may show,

  And tell my lord the way I go.”

  Nor did the fiend, in wild alarm,

  Mark when she drew from neck and arm

  And foot the gems and gold, and sent

  To earth each gleaming ornament.

  The monkeys raised their tawny eyes

  That closed not in their first surprise,

  And saw the dark-eyed lady, where

  She shrieked above them in the air.

  High o’er their heads the giant passed

  Holding the weeping lady fast.

  O’e
r Pampa’s flashing flood he sped

  And on to Lanká’s city fled.

  He bore away in senseless joy

  The prize that should his life destroy,

  Like the rash fool who hugs beneath

  His robe a snake with venomed teeth.

  Swift as an arrow from a bow,

  Speeding o’er lands that lay below,

  Sublime in air his course he took

  O’er wood and rock and lake and brook.

  He passed at length the sounding sea

  Where monstrous creatures wander free, —

  Seat of Lord Varuṇ’s ancient reign,

  Controller of the eternal main.

  The angry waves were raised and tossed

  As Rávaṇ with the lady crossed,

  And fish and snake in wild unrest

  Showed flashing fin and gleaming crest.

  Then from the blessed troops who dwell

  In air celestial voices fell:

  “O ten-necked King,” they cried, “attend:

  This guilty deed will bring thine end.”

  Then Rávaṇ speeding like the storm,

  Bearing his death in human form,

  The struggling Sítá, lighted down

  In royal Lanká’s glorious town;

  A city bright and rich, that showed

  Well-ordered street and noble road;

  Arranged with just division, fair

  With multitudes in court and square.

  Thus, all his journey done, he passed

  Within his royal home at last.

  There in a queenly bower he placed

  The black-eyed dame with dainty waist:

  Thus in her chamber Máyá laid

  The lovely Máyá, demon maid.

  Then Rávaṇ gave command to all

  The dread she-fiends who filled the hall:

  “This captive lady watch and guard

  From sight of man and woman barred.

  But all the fair one asks beside

  Be with unsparing hand supplied:

  As though ‘twere I that asked, withhold

  No pearls or dress or gems or gold.

  And she among you that shall dare

  Of purpose or through want of care

  One word to vex her soul to say,

  Throws her unvalued life away.”

  Thus spake the monarch of their race

  To those she-fiends who thronged the place,

  And pondering on the course to take

  Went from the chamber as he spake.

  He saw eight giants, strong and dread,

  On flesh of bleeding victims fed,

  Proud in the boon which Brahmá gave,

  And trusting in its power to save.

  He thus the mighty chiefs addressed

  Of glorious power and strength possessed:

  “Arm, warriors, with the spear and bow;

  With all your speed from Lanká go,

  For Janasthán, our own no more,

  Is now defiled with giants’ gore;

  The seat of Khara’s royal state

  Is left unto us desolate.

  In your brave hearts and might confide,

  And cast ignoble fear aside.

  Go, in that desert region dwell

  Where the fierce giants fought and fell.

  A glorious host that region held,

  For power and might unparalleled,

  By Dúshaṇ and brave Khara led, —

  All, slain by Ráma’s arrows, bled.

  Hence boundless wrath that spurns control

  Reigns paramount within my soul,

  And naught but Ráma’s death can sate

  The fury of my vengeful hate.

  I will not close my slumbering eyes

  Till by this hand my foeman dies.

  And when mine arm has slain the foe

  Who laid those giant princes low,

  Long will I triumph in the deed,

  Like one enriched in utmost need.

  Now go; that I this end may gain,

  In Janasthán, O chiefs, remain.

  Watch Ráma there with keenest eye,

  And all his deeds and movements spy.

  Go forth, no helping art neglect,

  Be brave and prompt and circumspect,

  And be your one endeavour still

  To aid mine arm this foe to kill.

  Oft have I seen your warrior might

  Proved in the forehead of the fight,

  And sure of strength I know so well

  Send you in Janasthán to dwell.”

  The giants heard with prompt assent

  The pleasant words he said,

  And each before his master bent

  For meet salute, his head.

  Then as he bade, without delay,

  From Lanká’s gate they passed,

  And hurried forward on their way

  Invisible and fast.

  Canto LV. Sítá In Prison.

  THUS RÁVAṆ HIS commandment gave

  To those eight giants strong and brave,

  So thinking in his foolish pride

  Against all dangers to provide.

  Then with his wounded heart aflame

  With love he thought upon the dame,

  And took with hasty steps the way

  To the fair chamber where she lay.

  He saw the gentle lady there

  Weighed down by woe too great to bear,

  Amid the throng of fiends who kept

  Their watch around her as she wept:

  A pinnace sinking neath the wave

  When mighty winds around her rave:

  A lonely herd-forsaken deer,

  When hungry dogs are pressing near.

  Within the bower the giant passed:

  Her mournful looks were downward cast.

  As there she lay with streaming eyes

  The giant bade the lady rise,

  And to the shrinking captive showed

  The glories of his rich abode,

  Where thousand women spent their days

  In palaces with gold ablaze;

  Where wandered birds of every sort,

  And jewels flashed in hall and court.

  Where noble pillars charmed the sight

  With diamond and lazulite,

  And others glorious to behold

  With ivory, crystal, silver, gold.

  There swelled on high the tambour’s sound,

  And burnished ore was bright around

  He led the mournful lady where

  Resplendent gold adorned the stair,

  And showed each lattice fair to see

  With silver work and ivory:

  Showed his bright chambers, line on line,

  Adorned with nets of golden twine.

  Beyond he showed the Maithil dame

  His gardens bright as lightning’s flame,

  And many a pool and lake he showed

  Where blooms of gayest colour glowed.

  Through all his home from view to view

  The lady sunk in grief he drew.

  Then trusting in her heart to wake

  Desire of all she saw, he spake:

  “Three hundred million giants, all

  Obedient to their master’s call,

  Not counting young and weak and old,

  Serve me with spirits fierce and bold.

  A thousand culled from all of these

  Wait on the lord they long to please.

  This glorious power, this pomp and sway,

  Dear lady, at thy feet I lay:

  Yea, with my life I give the whole,

  O dearer than my life and soul.

  A thousand beauties fill my hall:

  Be thou my wife and rule them all.

  O hear my supplication! why

  This reasonable prayer deny?

  Some pity to thy suitor show,

  For love’s hot flames within me glow.

  This isle a hundred leagues in length,

&nb
sp; Encompassed by the ocean’s strength,

  Would all the Gods and fiends defy

  Though led by Him who rules the sky.

  No God in heaven, no sage on earth,

  No minstrel of celestial birth,

  No spirit in the worlds I see

  A match in power and might for me.

  What wilt thou do with Ráma, him

  Whose days are short, whose light is dim,

  Expelled from home and royal sway,

  Who treads on foot his weary way?

  Leave the poor mortal to his fate,

  And wed thee with a worthier mate.

  My timid love, enjoy with me

  The prime of youth before it flee.

  Do not one hour the hope retain

  To look on Ráma’s face again.

  For whom would wildest thought beguile

  To seek thee in the giants’ isle?

  Say who is he has power to bind

  In toils of net the rushing wind.

  Whose is the mighty hand will tame

  And hold the glory of the flame?

  In all the worlds above, below,

  Not one, O fair of form, I know

  Who from this isle in fight could rend

  The lady whom these arms defend.

  Fair Queen, o’er Lanká’s island reign,

  Sole mistress of the wide domain.

  Gods, rovers of the night like me,

  And all the world thy slaves will be.

  O’er thy fair brows and queenly head

  Let consecrating balm be shed,

  And sorrow banished from thy breast,

  Enjoy my love and take thy rest.

  Here never more thy soul shall know

  The memory of thy former woe,

  And here shall thou enjoy the meed

  Deserved by every virtuous deed.

  Here garlands glow of flowery twine,

  With gorgeous hues and scent divine.

  Take gold and gems and rich attire:

  Enjoy with me thy heart’s desire.

  There stand, of chariots far the best,

  The car my brother once possessed.

  Which, victor in the stricken field,

  I forced the Lord of Gold to yield.

  ’Tis wide and high and nobly wrought,

  Bright as the sun and swift as thought.

  Therein O Sítá, shalt thou ride

  Delighted by thy lover’s side.

  But sorrow mars with lingering trace

  The splendour of thy lotus face.

  A cloud of woe is o’er it spread,

  And all the light of joy is fled.”

  The lady, by her woe distressed,

  One corner of her raiment pressed

  To her sad cheek like moonlight clear,

  And wiped away a falling tear.

  The rover of the night renewed

  His eager pleading as he viewed

  The lady stand like one distraught,

 

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