The Sanskrit Epics

by Delphi Classics

  And never will Sugríva seek

  A friend whose power to save is weak.

  Now listen while my lips unfold

  The wondrous tale my Angad told.

  Our child the distant forest sought,

  And, learnt from spies, the tidings brought.

  Two sons of Daśaratha, sprung

  From old Ikshváku, brave and young,

  Renowned in arms, in war untamed —

  Ráma and Lakshmaṇ are they named —

  Have with thy foe Sugríva made

  A league of love and friendly aid.

  Now Ráma, famed for exploit high,

  Is bound thy brother’s firm ally,

  Like fires of doom579 that ruin all

  He makes each foe before him fall.

  He is the suppliant’s sure defence,

  The tree that shelters innocence.

  The poor and wretched seek his feet:

  In him the noblest glories meet.

  With skill and knowledge vast and deep

  His sire’s commands he loved to keep;

  With princely gifts and graces stored

  As metals deck the Mountains’ Lord.580

  Thou canst not, O my hero, stand

  Before the might of Ráma’s hand;

  For none may match his powers or dare

  With him in deeds of war compare.

  Hear, I entreat, the words I say,

  Nor lightly turn my rede away.

  O let fraternal discord cease,

  And link you in the bonds of peace.

  Let consecrating rites ordain

  Sugríva partner of thy reign.

  Let war and thoughts of conflict end,

  And be thou his and Ráma’s friend,

  Each soft approach of love begin,

  And to thy soul thy brother win;

  For whether here or there he be,

  Thy brother still, dear lord, is he.

  Though far and wide these eyes I strain

  A friend like him I seek in vain.

  Let gentle words his heart incline,

  And gifts and honours make him thine,

  Till, foes no more, in love allied,

  You stand as brothers side by side.

  Thou in high rank wast wont to hold

  Sugríva, formed in massive mould;

  Then come, thy brother’s love regain,

  For other aids are weak and vain.

  If thou would please my soul, and still

  Preserve me from all fear and ill,

  I pray thee by thy love be wise

  And do the thing which I advise.

  Assuage thy fruitless wrath, and shun

  The mightier arms of Raghu’s son;

  For Indra’s peer in might is he,

  A foe too strong, my lord, for thee.”

  Canto XVI. The Fall Of Báli.

  THUS TÁRÁ WITH the starry eyes581

  Her counsel gave with burning sighs.

  But Báli, by her prayers unmoved,

  Spurned her advice, and thus reproved:

  “How may this insult, scathe, and scorn

  By me, dear love, be tamely born?

  My brother, yea my foe, comes nigh

  And dares me forth with shout and cry.

  Learn, trembler! that the valiant, they

  Who yield no step in battle fray,

  Will die a thousand deaths but ne’er

  An unavenged dishonour bear.

  Nor, O my love, be thou dismayed

  Though Ráma lend Sugríva aid,

  For one so pure and duteous, one

  Who loves the right, all sin will shun,

  Release me from thy soft embrace,

  And with thy dames thy steps retrace:

  Enough already, O mine own,

  Of love and sweet devotion shown.

  Drive all thy fear and doubt away;

  I seek Sugríva in the fray

  His boisterous rage and pride to still,

  And tame the foe I would not kill.

  My fury, armed with brandished trees,

  Shall strike Sugríva to his knees:

  Nor shall the humbled foe withstand

  The blows of my avenging hand,

  When, nerved by rage and pride, I beat

  The traitor down beneath my feet.

  Thou, love, hast lent thine own sweet aid,

  And all thy tender care displayed;

  Now by my life, by these who yearn

  To serve thee well, I pray thee turn.

  But for a while, dear dame, I go

  To come triumphant o’er the foe.”

  Thus Báli spake in gentlest tone:

  Soft arms about his neck were thrown;

  Then round her lord the lady went

  With sad steps slow and reverent.

  She stood in solemn guise to bless

  With prayers for safety and success,

  Then with her train her chamber sought

  By grief and racking fear distraught.

  With serpent’s pantings fierce and fast

  King Báli from the city passed.

  His glance, as each quick breath he drew,

  Around to find the foe he threw,

  And saw where fierce Sugríva showed

  His form with golden hues that glowed,

  And, as a fire resplendent, stayed

  To meet his foe in arms arrayed.

  When Báli, long-armed chieftain, found

  Sugríva stationed on the ground,

  Impelled by warlike rage he braced

  His warrior garb about his waist,

  And with his mighty arm raised high

  Rushed at Sugríva with a cry.

  But when Sugríva, fierce and bold,

  Saw Báli with his chain of gold,

  His arm he heaved, his hand he closed,

  And face to face his foe opposed.

  To him whose eyes with fury shone,

  In charge impetuous rushing on,

  Skilled in each warlike art and plan,

  Báli with hasty words began:

  “My ponderous hand, to fight addressed

  With fingers clenched and arm compressed

  Shall on thy death doomed brow descend

  And, crashing down, thy life shall end.”

  He spoke; and wild with rage and pride,

  The fierce Sugríva thus replied:

  “Thus let my arm begin the strife

  And from thy body crush the life.”

  Then Báli, wounded and enraged,

  With furious blows the battle waged.

  Sugríva seemed, with blood-streams dyed,

  A hill with fountains in his side.

  But with his native force unspent

  A Sál tree from the earth he rent,

  And like the bolt of Indra smote

  On Báli’s head and chest and throat.

  Bruised by the blows he could not shield,

  Half vanquished Báli sank and reeled,

  As sinks a vessel with her freight

  Borne down by overwhelming weight.

  Swift as Suparṇa’s582 swiftest flight

  In awful strength they rushed to fight:

  So might the sun and moon on high

  Encountering battle in the sky.

  Fierce and more fierce, as fought the foes,

  The furious rage of combat rose.

  They warred with feet and arms and knees,

  With nails and stones and boughs and trees,

  And blows descending fast as rain

  Dyed each dark form with crimson stain,

  While like two thunder-clouds they met

  With battle-cry and shout and threat.

  Then Ráma saw Sugríva quail,

  Marked his worn strength grow weak and fail.

  Saw how he turned his wistful eye

  To every quarter of the sky.

  His friend’s defeat he could not brook,

  Bent on his shaft an eager look,

 
Then burned to slay the conquering foe,

  And laid his arrow on the bow.

  As to an orb the bow he drew

  Forth from the string the arrow flew

  Like Fate’s tremendous discus hurled

  By Yáma583 forth to end the world.

  So loud the din that every bird

  The bow-string’s clans with terror heard,

  And wildly fled the affrighted deer

  As though the day of doom were near.

  So, deadly as the serpent’s fang,

  Forth from the string the arrow sprang.

  Like the red lightning’s flash and flame

  It flew unerring to its aim,

  And, hissing murder through the air,

  Pierced Báli’s breast, and quivered there.

  Struck by the shaft that flew so well

  The mighty Vánar reeled and fell,

  As earthward Indra’s flag they pull

  When Aśvíní’s fair moon is full.584

  Canto XVII. Báli’s Speech.

  LIKE SOME PROUD tree before the blast

  Brave Báli to the ground was cast,

  Where prostrate in the dust he rolled

  Clad in the sheen of glistening gold,

  As when uptorn the standard lies

  Of the great God who rules the skies.

  When low upon the earth was laid

  The lord whom Vánar tribes obeyed,

  Dark as a moonless sky no more

  His land her joyous aspect wore.

  Though low in dust and mire was rolled

  The form of Báli lofty-souled,

  Still life and valour, might and grace

  Clung to their well-loved dwelling-place.

  That golden chain with rich gems set,

  The choicest gift of Sákra,585 yet

  Preserved his life nor let decay

  Steal strength and beauty’s light away.

  Still from that chain divinely wrought

  His dusky form a glory caught,

  As a dark cloud, when day is done,

  Made splendid by the dying sun.

  As fell the hero, crushed in fight,

  There beamed afar a triple light

  From limbs, from chain, from shaft that drank

  His life-blood as the warrior sank.

  The never-failing shaft, impelled

  By the great bow which Ráma held,

  Brought bliss supreme, and lit the way

  To Brahmá’s worlds which ne’er decay.586

  Ráma and Lakshmaṇ nearer drew

  The mighty fallen foe to view,

  Mahendra’s son, the brave and bold,

  The monarch with his chain of gold,

  With lustrous face and tawny eyes,

  Broad chest, and arms of wondrous size,

  Like Lord Mahendra fierce in fight,

  Or Vishṇu’s never-conquered might,

  Now fallen like Yayáti587 sent

  From heaven, his store of merit spent,

  Like the bright flame that pales and dies,

  Like the great sun who fires the skies,

  Doomed in the general doom to fall

  When time shall end and ruin all.

  The wounded Báli, when he saw

  Ráma and Lakshmaṇ nearer draw,

  Keen words to Raghu’s son, impressed

  With justice’ holy stamp, addressed:

  “What fame, from one thou hast not slain

  In front of battle, canst thou gain,

  Whose secret hand has laid me low

  When madly fighting with my foe?

  From every tongue thy glory rings,

  A scion of a line of kings,

  True to thy vows, of noblest race,

  With every gentle gift and grace:

  Whose tender heart for woe can feel,

  And joy in every creature’s weal:

  Whose breast with high ambition swells,

  Knows duty’s claim and ne’er rebels.

  They praise thy valour, patience, ruth,

  Thy firmness, self-restraint, and truth:

  Thy hand prepared for sin’s control,

  All virtues of a princely soul.

  I thought of all these gifts of thine,

  And glories of an ancient line,

  I set my Tárá’s tears at naught,

  I met Sugríva and we fought.

  O Ráma, till this fatal morn

  I held that thou wouldst surely scorn

  To strike me as I fought my foe

  And thought not of a stranger’s blow,

  But now thine evil heart is shown,

  A yawning well with grass o’ergrown.

  Thou wearest virtue’s badge,588 but guile

  And meanest sin thy soul defile.

  I took thee not for treacherous fire,

  A sinner clad in saint’s attire;

  Nor deemed thou idly wouldst profess

  The show and garb of righteousness.

  In fenced town, in open land,

  Ne’er hast thou suffered at this hand,

  Nor canst of proud contempt complain:

  Then wherefore is the guiltless slain?

  My harmless life in woods I lead,

  On forest fruits and roots I feed.

  My foeman in the field I sought,

  And ne’er with thee, O Ráma, fought.

  Upon thy limbs, O King, I see

  The raiment of a devotee;

  And how can one like thee, who springs

  From a proud line of ancient kings,

  Beneath fair virtue’s mask, disgrace

  His lineage by a deed so base?

  From Raghu is thy long descent,

  For duteous deeds prëeminent:

  Why, sinner clad in saintly dress,

  Roamest thou through the wilderness?

  Truth, valour, justice free from spot,

  The hand that gives and grudges not,

  The might that strikes the sinner down,

  These bring a prince his best renown.

  Here in the woods, O King, we live

  On roots and fruit which branches give.589

  Thus nature framed our harmless race:

  Thou art a man supreme in place.

  Silver and gold and land provoke

  The fierce attack, the robber’s stroke,

  Canst thou desire this wild retreat,

  The berries and the fruit we eat?

  ’Tis not for mighty kings to tread

  The flowery path, by pleasure led.

  Theirs be the arm that crushes sin,

  Theirs the soft grace to woo and win:

  The steadfast will that guides the state,

  Wise favour to the good and great;

  And for all time are kings renowned

  Who blend these arts and ne’er confound.

  But thou art weak and swift to ire,

  Unstable, slave of each desire.

  Thou tramplest duty in the dust,

  And in thy bow is all thy trust.

  Thou carest naught for noble gain,

  And treatest virtue with disdain,

  While every sense its captive draws

  To follow pleasure’s changing laws.

  I wronged thee not in word or deed,

  But by thy deadly dart I bleed.

  What wilt thou, mid the virtuous, say

  To purge thy lasting stain away?

  All these, O King, must sink to hell,

  The regicide, the infidel,

  He who in blood and slaughter joys,

  A Bráhman or a cow destroys,

  Untimely weds in law’s despite

  Scorning an elder brother’s right,590

  Who dares his Teacher’s bed ascend,

  The miser, spy, and treacherous friend.

  These impious wretches, one and all,

  Must to the hell of sinners fall.

  My skin the holy may not wear,

  Useless to thee my bones and hair;

  Nor m
ay my slaughtered body be

  The food of devotees like thee.

  These five-toed things a man may slay

  And feed upon the fallen prey;

  The mailed rhinoceros may die,

  And, with the hare his food supply.

  Iguanas he may kill and eat,

  With porcupine and tortoise meat.591

  But all the wise account it sin

  To touch my bones and hair and skin.

  My flesh they may not eat; and I

  A useless prey, O Ráma, die.

  In vain my Tárá reasoned well,

  On dull deaf ears her counsel fell.

  I scorned her words though sooth and sweet,

  And hither rushed my fate to meet.

  Ah for the land thou rulest! she

  Finds no protection, lord, from thee,

  Neglected like some noble dame

  By a vile husband dead to shame.

  Mean-hearted coward, false and vile,

  Whose cruel soul delights in guile,

  Could Daśaratha, noblest king,

  Beget so mean and base a thing?

  Alas! an elephant, in form

  Of Ráma, in a maddening storm

  Of passion casting to the ground

  The girth of law592 that clipped him round,

  Too wildly passionate to feel

  The prick of duty’s guiding steel,593

  Has charged me unawares, and dead

  I fall beneath his murderous tread.

  How, stained with this my base defeat,

  How wilt thou dare, where good men meet,

  To speak, when every tongue will blame

  With keen reproach this deed of shame?

  Such hero strength and valour, shown

  Upon the innocent alone,

  Thou hast not proved in manly strife

  On him who robbed thee of thy wife.

  Hadst thou but fought in open field

  And met me boldly unconcealed,

  This day had been thy fate to fall,

  Slain by this hand, to Yáma’s hall.

  In vain I strove, and struck by thee

  Fell by a hand I could not see.

  Thus bites a snake, for sins of yore,

  A sleeping man who wakes no more.

  Sugríva’s foeman thou hast killed,

  And thus his heart’s desire fulfilled;

  But, Ráma, hadst thou sought me first,

  And told the hope thy soul has nursed,

  That very day had I restored

  The Maithil lady to her lord;

  And, binding Rávaṇ with a chain,

  Had laid him at thy feet unslain.

  Yea, were she sunk in deepest hell,

  Or whelmed beneath the ocean’s swell,

  I would have followed on her track

  And brought the rescued lady back,

  As Hayagríva594 once set free

  From hell the white Aśvatarí.595

  That when my spirit wings its flight