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The Sanskrit Epics

Page 115

by Delphi Classics


  And freedom thou shalt soon regain.

  Or if thou comest as a spy

  Despatched by Vishṇu in the sky,

  Or sent by Yáma, or the Lord

  Of Riches, hast our town explored;

  Proved by the prowess thou hast shown

  No monkey save in form alone;

  Speak boldly all the truth, and be

  Released from bonds, unharmed and free.

  But falsehood spoken to our king

  Swift punishment of death will bring.”

  He ceased: the Vánar made reply;

  “Not Indra’s messenger am I,

  Nor came I hither to fulfil

  Kuvera’s hest or Vishṇu’s will.

  I stand before the giants here

  A Vánar e’en as I appear.

  I longed to see the king: ’twas hard

  To win my way through gate and guard.

  And so to gain my wish I laid

  In ruin that delightful shade.

  No fiend, no God of heavenly kind

  With bond or chain these limbs may bind.

  The Eternal Sire himself of old

  Vouchsafed the boon that makes me bold,

  From Brahmá’s magic shaft released884

  I knew the captor’s power had ceased,

  The fancied bonds I freely brooked,

  And thus upon the king have looked.

  My way to Lanká have I won,

  A messenger from Raghu’s son.”

  Canto LI. Hanumán’s Reply.

  “MY KING SUGRÍVA greets thee fair,

  And bids me thus his rede declare.

  Son of the God of Wind, by name

  Hanumán, to this isle I came.

  To set the Maithil lady free

  I crossed the barrier of the sea.

  I roamed in search of her and found

  Her weeping in that lovely ground.

  Thou in the lore of duty trained,

  Who hast by stern devotion gained

  This wondrous wealth and power and fame

  Shouldst fear to wrong another’s dame.

  Hear thou my counsel, and be wise:

  No fiend, no dweller in the skies

  Can bear the shafts by Lakshmaṇ shot,

  Or Ráma when his wrath is hot.

  O Giant King, repent the crime

  And soothe him while there yet is time.

  Now be the Maithil queen restored

  Uninjured to her sorrowing lord.

  Soon wilt thou rue thy dire mistake:

  She is no woman but a snake,

  Whose very deadly bite will be

  The ruin of thy house and thee.

  Thy pride has led thy thoughts astray,

  That fancy not a hand may slay

  The monarch of the giants, screened

  From mortal blow of God and fiend.

  Sugríva still thy death may be:

  No Yaksha, fiend, or God is he,

  And Ráma from a woman springs,

  The mortal seed of mortal kings.

  O think how Báli fell subdued;

  Think on thy slaughtered multitude.

  Respect those brave and strong allies;

  Consult thy safety, and be wise.

  I, even I, no helper need

  To overthrow, with car and steed,

  Thy city Lanká half divine:

  The power but not the will is mine.

  For Raghu’s son, before his friend

  The Vánar monarch, swore to end

  With his own conquering arm the life

  Of him who stole his darling wife.

  Turn, and be wise, O Rávaṇ turn;

  Or thou wilt see thy Lanká burn,

  And with thy wives, friends, kith and kin

  Be ruined for thy senseless sin.”

  Canto LII. Vibhishan’s Speech.

  THEN RÁVAṆ SPAKE with flashing eye:

  “Hence with the Vánar: let him die.”

  Vibhishaṇ heard the stern behest,

  And pondered in his troubled breast;

  Then, trained in arts that soothe and please

  Addressed the king in words like these:

  “Revoke, my lord, thy fierce decree,

  And hear the words I speak to thee.

  Kings wise and noble ne’er condemn

  To death the envoys sent to them.

  Such deed the world’s contempt would draw

  On him who breaks the ancient law.885

  Observe the mean where justice lies,

  And spare his life but still chastise.”

  Then forth the tyrant’s fury broke,

  And thus in angry words he spoke:

  “O hero, when the wicked bleed

  No sin or shame attends the deed.

  The Vánar’s blood must needs be spilt,

  The penalty of heinous guilt.”

  Again Vibhishaṇ made reply:

  “Nay, hear me, for he must not die.

  Hear the great law the wise declare:

  “Thy foeman’s envoy thou shalt spare.”

  ’Tis true he comes an open foe:

  ’Tis true his hands have wrought us woe,

  But law allows thee, if thou wilt,

  A punishment to suit the guilt.

  The mark of shame, the scourge, the brand,

  The shaven head, the wounded hand.

  Yea, were the Vánar envoy slain,

  Where, King of giants, were the gain?

  On them alone, on them who sent

  The message, be the punishment.

  For spake he well or spake he ill,

  He spake obedient to their will,

  And, if he perish, who can bear

  Thy challenge to the royal pair?

  Who, cross the ocean and incite

  Thy death-doomed enemies to fight?”

  Canto LIII. The Punishment.

  KING RÁVAṆ, BY his pleading moved,

  The counsel of the chief approved:

  “Thy words are wise and true: to kill

  An envoy would beseem us ill.

  Yet must we for his crime invent

  Some fitting mode of punishment.

  The tail, I fancy, is the part

  Most cherished by a monkey’s heart.

  Make ready: set his tail aflame,

  And let him leave us as he came,

  And thus disfigured and disgraced

  Back to his king and people haste.”

  The giants heard their monarch’s speech;

  And, filled with burning fury, each

  Brought strips of cotton cloth, and round

  The monkey’s tail the bandage wound.

  As round his tail the bands they drew

  His mighty form dilating grew

  Vast as the flame that bursts on high

  Where trees are old and grass is dry.

  Each band and strip they soaked in oil,

  And set on fire the twisted coil.

  Delighted as they viewed the blaze,

  The cruel demons stood at gaze:

  And mid loud drums and shells rang out

  The triumph of their joyful shout.

  They pressed about him thick and fast

  As through the crowded streets he passed,

  Observing with attentive care

  Each rich and wondrous structure there,

  Still heedless of the eager cry

  That rent the air, The spy! the spy!

  Some to the captive lady ran,

  And thus in joyous words began:

  “That copper-visaged monkey, he

  Who in the garden talked with thee,

  Through Lanká’s town is led a show,

  And round his tail the red flames glow.”

  The mournful news the lady heard

  That with fresh grief her bosom stirred.

  Swift to the kindled fire she went

  And prayed before it reverent:

  “If I my husband have obeyed,

  And kept the a
scetic vows I made,

  Free, ever free, from stain and blot,

  O spare the Vánar; harm him not.”

  Then leapt on high the flickering flame

  And shone in answer to the dame.

  The pitying fire its rage forbore:

  The Vánar felt the heat no more.

  Then, to minutest size reduced,

  The bonds that bound his limbs he loosed,

  And, freed from every band and chain,

  Rose to his native size again.

  He seized a club of ponderous weight

  That lay before him by the gate,

  Rushed at the fiends that hemmed him round,

  And laid them lifeless on the ground.

  Through Lanká’s town again he strode,

  And viewed each street and square and road, —

  Still wreathed about with harmless blaze,

  A sun engarlanded with rays.

  Canto LIV. The Burning Of Lanká.

  “WHAT FURTHER DEED remains to do

  To vex the Rákshas king anew?

  The beauty of his grove is marred,

  Killed are the bravest of his guard.

  The captains of his host are slain;

  But forts and palaces remain,

  Swift is the work and light the toil

  Each fortress of the foe to spoil.”

  Reflecting thus, his tail ablaze

  As through the cloud red lightning plays,

  He scaled the palaces and spread

  The conflagration where he sped.

  From house to house he hurried on,

  And the wild flames behind him shone.

  Each mansion of the foe he scaled,

  And furious fire its roof assailed

  Till all the common ruin shared:

  Vibhishaṇ’s house alone was spared.

  From blazing pile to pile he sprang,

  And loud his shout of triumph rang,

  As roars the doomsday cloud when all

  The worlds in dissolution fall.

  The friendly wind conspired to fan

  The hungry flames that leapt and ran,

  And spreading in their fury caught

  The gilded walls with pearls inwrought,

  Till each proud palace reeled and fell

  As falls a heavenly citadel.

  Loud was the roar the demons raised

  Mid walls that split and beams that blazed,

  As each with vain endeavour strove

  To stay the flames in house or grove.

  The women, with dishevelled hair,

  Flocked to the roofs in wild despair,

  Shrieked out for succour, wept aloud,

  And fell, like lightning from a cloud.

  He saw the flames ascend and curl

  Round turkis, diamond, and pearl,

  While silver floods and molten gold

  From ruined wall and latice rolled.

  As fire grows fiercer as he feeds

  On wood and grass and crackling reeds,

  So Hanúmán the ruin eyed

  With fury still unsatisfied.

  Canto LV. Fear For Sítá.

  BUT OTHER THOUGHTS resumed their sway

  When Lanká’s town in ruin lay;

  And, as his bosom felt their weight

  He stood a while to meditate.

  “What have I done?”, he thought with shame,

  “Destroyed the town with hostile flame.

  O happy they whose firm control

  Checks the wild passion of the soul;

  Who on the fires of anger throw

  The cooling drops that check their glow.

  But woe is me, whom wrath could lead

  To do this senseless shameless deed.

  The town to fire and death I gave,

  Nor thought of her I came to save, —

  Doomed by my own rash folly, doomed

  To perish in the flames consumed.

  If I, when anger drove me wild,

  Have caused the death of Janak’s child,

  The kindled flame shall end my woe,

  Or the deep fires that burn below,886

  Or my forsaken corse shall be

  Food for the monsters of the sea.

  How can I meet Sugríva? how

  Before the royal brothers bow, —

  I whose rash deed has madly foiled,

  The noble work in which we toiled?

  Or has her own bright virtue shed

  Its guardian influence round her head?

  She lives untouched, — the peerless dame;

  Flame has no fury for the flame.887

  The very fire would ne’er consent

  To harm a queen so excellent, —

  The high-souled Ráma’s faithful wife,

  Protected by her holy life.

  She lives, she lives. Why should I fear

  For one whom Raghu’s sons hold dear?

  Has not the pitying fire that spared

  The Vánar for the lady cared?”

  Such were his thoughts: he pondered long,

  And fear grew faint and hope grew strong.

  Then round him heavenly voices rang,

  And, sweetly tuned, his praises sang:

  “O glorious is the exploit done

  By Hanumán the Wind-God’s son.

  The flames o’er Lanká’s city rise:

  The giants’ home in ruin lies.

  O’er roof and wall the fires have spread,

  Nor harmed a hair of Sítá’s head.”

  Canto LVI. Mount Arishta.

  HE LOOKED UPON the burning waste,

  Then sought the queen in joyous haste,

  With words of hope consoled her heart,

  And made him ready to depart.

  He scaled Arishṭa’s glorious steep

  Whose summits beetled o’er the deep.

  The woods in varied beauty dressed

  Hung like a garland round his crest,

  And clouds of ever changing hue

  A robe about his shoulders threw.

  On him the rays of morning fell

  To wake the hill they loved so well,

  And bid unclose those splendid eyes

  That glittered in his mineral dyes.

  He woke to hear the music made

  By thunders of the white cascade,

  While every laughing rill that sprang

  From crag to crag its carol sang.

  For arms, he lifted to the stars

  His towering stems of Deodárs,

  And morning heard his pealing call

  In tumbling brook and waterfall.

  He trembled when his woods were pale

  And bowed beneath the autumn gale,

  And when his vocal reeds were stirred

  His melancholy moan was heard.

  Far down against the mountain’s feet

  The Vánar heard the wild waves beat;

  Then turned his glances to the north.

  Sprang from the peak and bounded forth,

  The mountain felt the fearful shock

  And trembled through his mass of rock.

  The tallest trees were crushed and rent

  And headlong to the valley sent,

  And as the rocking shook each cave

  Loud was the roar the lions gave.

  Forth from the shaken cavern came

  Fierce serpents with their tongues aflame;

  And every Yaksha, wild with dread,

  And Kinnar and Gandharva, fled.

  Canto LVII. Hanumán’s Return.

  STILL, LIKE A winged mountain, he

  Sprang forward through the airy sea,888

  And rushing through the ether drew

  The clouds to follow as he flew,

  Through the great host around him spread,

  Grey, golden, dark, and white, and red.

  Now in a sable cloud immersed,

  Now from its gloomy pall he burst,

  Like the bright Lord of Stars concealed
/>   A moment, and again revealed.

  Sunábha889 passed, he neared the coast

  Where waited still the Vánar host.

  They heard a rushing in the skies,

  And lifted up their wondering eyes.

  His wild triumphant shout they knew

  That louder still and louder grew,

  And Jámbaván with eager voice

  Called on the Vánars to rejoice:

  “Look he returns, the Wind-God’s son,

  And full success his toils have won;

  Triumphant is the shout that comes

  Like music of a thousand drums.”

  Up sprang the Vánars from the ground

  And listened to the wondrous sound

  Of hurtling arm and thigh as through

  The region of the air he flew,

  Loud as the wind, when tempests rave,

  Roars in the prison of the cave.

  From crag to crag, from height to height;

  They bounded in their mad delight,

  And when he touched the mountain’s crest,

  With reverent welcome round him pressed.

  They brought him of their woodland fruits,

  They brought him of the choicest roots,

  And laughed and shouted in their glee

  The noblest of their chiefs to see.

  Nor Hanumán delayed to greet

  Sage Jámbaván with reverence meet;

  To Angad and the chiefs he bent

  For age and rank preëminent,

  And briefly spoke: “These eyes have seen,

  These lips addressed, the Maithil queen.”

  They sat beneath the waving trees,

  And Angad spoke in words like these:

  “O noblest of the Vánar kind

  For valour power and might combined,

  To thee triumphant o’er the foe

  Our hopes, our lives and all we owe.

  O faithful heart in perils tried,

  Which toil nor fear could turn aside,

  Thy deed the lady will restore,

  And Ráma’s heart will ache no more.”890

  Canto LVIII. The Feast Of Honey.

  THEY ROSE IN air: the region grew

  Dark with their shadow as they flew.

  Swift to a lovely grove891 they came

  That rivalled heavenly Nandan’s892 fame;

  Where countless bees their honey stored, —

  The pleasance of the Vánars’ lord,

  To every creature fenced and barred,

  Which Dadhimukh was set to guard,

  A noble Vánar, brave and bold,

  Sugríva’s uncle lofty-souled.

  To Angad came with one accord

 

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