The Sanskrit Epics

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The Sanskrit Epics Page 121

by Delphi Classics


  Aśokas from the ground were rent,

  And towering Sáls and light bamboos,

  And trees with flowers of varied hues,

  With loveliest creepers wreathed and crowned,

  Shook, reeled, and fell upon the ground.

  With mighty engines piles of stone

  And seated hills were overthrown:

  Unprisoned waters sprang on high,

  In rain descending from the sky:

  And ocean with a roar and swell

  Heaved wildly when the mountains fell.

  Then the great bridge of wondrous strength

  Was built, a hundred leagues in length.

  Rocks huge as autumn clouds bound fast

  With cordage from the shore were cast,

  And fragments of each riven hill,

  And trees whose flowers adorned them still.

  Wild was the tumult, loud the din

  As ponderous rocks went thundering in.

  Ere set of sun, so toiled each crew,

  Ten leagues and four the structure grew;

  The labours of the second day

  Gave twenty more of ready way,

  And on the fifth, when sank the sun,

  The whole stupendous work was done.

  O’er the broad way the Vánars sped,

  Nor swayed it with their countless tread.

  Exultant on the ocean strand

  Vibhishaṇ stood, and, mace in hand,

  Longed eager for the onward way,

  And chafed impatient at delay.

  Then thus to Ráma trained and tried

  In battle King Sugríva cried:

  “Come, Hanumán’s broad back ascend;

  Let Angad help to Lakshmaṇ lend.

  These high above the sea shall bear

  Their burthen through the ways of air.”

  So, with Sugríva, borne o’erhead

  Ikshváku’s sons the legions led.

  Behind, the Vánar hosts pursued

  Their march in endless multitude.

  Some skimmed the surface of the wave,

  To some the air a passage gave.

  Amid their ceaseless roar the sound

  Of Ocean’s fearful voice was drowned,

  As o’er the bridge by Nala planned

  They hastened on to Lanká’s strand,

  Where, by the pleasant brooks, mid trees

  Loaded with fruit, they took their ease.

  Canto XXIII. The Omens.

  THEN RÁMA, PEERLESS in the skill

  That marks each sign of good and ill,

  Strained his dear brother to his breast,

  And thus with prudent words addressed:

  “Now, Lakshmaṇ, by the water’s side

  In fruitful groves the host divide,

  That warriors of each woodland race

  May keep their own appointed place.

  Dire is the danger: loss of friends,

  Of Vánars and of bears, impends.

  Distained with dust the breezes blow,

  And earth is shaken from below.

  The tall hills rock from foot to crown,

  And stately trees come toppling down.

  In threatening shape, with voice of fear,

  The clouds like cannibals appear,

  And rain in fitful torrents, red

  With sanguinary drops, is shed.

  Long streaks of lurid light invest

  The evening skies from east to west.

  And from the sun at times a ball

  Of angry fire is seen to fall.

  From every glen and brake is heard

  The boding voice of beast and bird:

  From den and lair night-prowlers run

  And shriek against the falling sun.

  Up springs the moon, but hot and red

  Kills the sad night with woe and dread;

  No gentle lustre, but the gloom

  That heralds universal doom.

  A cloud of dust and vapour mars

  The beauty of the evening stars,

  And wild and fearful is the sky

  As though the wreck of worlds were nigh.

  Around our heads in boding flight

  Wheel hawk and vulture, crow and kite;

  And every bird of happy note

  Shrieks terror from his altered throat.

  Sword, spear and shaft shall strew the plain

  Dyed red with torrents of the slain.

  To-day the Vánar troops shall close

  Around the city of our foes.”

  Canto XXIV. The Spy’s Return.

  AS SHINE THE heavens with autumn’s moon

  Refulgent in the height of noon,

  So shone with light which Ráma gave

  That army of the bold and brave,

  As from the sea it marched away

  In war’s magnificent array,

  And earth was shaken by the beat

  And trampling of unnumbered feet.

  Then to the giants’ ears were borne,

  The mingled notes of drum and horn,

  And clash of tambours smote the sky,

  And shouting and the battle cry.

  The sound of martial strains inspired

  Each chieftain, and his bosom fired:

  While giants from their walls replied,

  And answering shouts the foe defied,

  Then Ráma looked on Lanká where

  Bright banners floated in the air,

  And, pierced with anguish at the view,

  His loving thoughts to Sítá flew.

  “There, prisoned by the giant, lies

  My lady of the tender eyes,

  Like Rohiṇí the queen of stars

  O’erpowered by the fiery Mars.”

  Then turned he to his brother chief

  And cried in agony of grief:

  “See on the hill, divinely planned

  And built by Viśvakarmá’s hand,

  The towers and domes of Lanká rise

  In peerless beauty to the skies.

  Bright from afar the city shines

  With gleam of palaces and shrines,

  Like pale clouds through the region spread

  By Vishṇu’s self inhabited.

  Fair gardens grow, and woods between

  The stately domes are fresh and green,

  Where trees their bloom and fruit display,

  And sweet birds sing on every spray.

  Each bird is mad with joy, and bees

  Sing labouring in the bloomy trees

  On branches by the breezes bowed,

  Where the gay Koïl’s voice is loud.”

  This said, he ranged with warlike art

  Each body of the host apart.

  “There in the centre,” Ráma cried,

  “Be Angad’s place by Níla’s side.

  Let Rishabh of impetuous might

  Be lord and leader on the right,

  And Gandhamádan, next in rank,

  Be captain of the farther flank.

  Lakshmaṇ and I the hosts will lead,

  And Jámbaván of ursine breed,

  With bold Susheṇ unused to fear,

  And Vegadarśí, guide the rear.”

  Thus Ráma spoke: the chiefs obeyed;

  And all the Vánar hosts arrayed

  Showed awful as the autumn sky

  When clouds embattled form on high.

  Their arms were mighty trees o’erthrown,

  And massy blocks of mountain stone.

  One hope in every warlike breast,

  One firm resolve, they onward pressed,

  To die in fight or batter down

  The walls and towers of Lanká’s town.

  Those marshalled legions Ráma eyed,

  And thus to King Sugríva cried:

  “Now, Monarch, ere the hosts proceed,

  Let Śuka, Rávaṇ’s spy, be freed.”

  He spoke: the Vánar gave consent

  And loosed him from imprisonment:

  And Śu
ka, trembling and afraid,

  His homeward way to Rávaṇ made.

  Loud laughed the lord of Lanká’s isle:

  “Where hast thou stayed this weary while?

  Why is thy plumage marred, and why

  Do twisted cords thy pinions tie?

  Say, comest thou in evil plight

  The victim of the Vánars’ spite?”

  He ceased: the spy his fear controlled,

  And to the king his story told:

  “I reached the ocean’s distant shore,

  Thy message to the king I bore.

  In sudden wrath the Vánars rose,

  They struck me down with furious blows;

  They seized me helpless on the ground,

  My plumage rent, my pinions bound.

  They would not, headlong in their ire,

  Consider, listen, or inquire;

  So fickle, wrathful, rough and rude

  Is the wild forest multitude.

  There, marshalling the Vánar bands,

  King Ráma with Sugríva stands,

  Ráma the matchless warrior, who

  Virádha and Kabandha slew,

  Khara, and countless giants more,

  And tracks his queen to Lanká’s shore.

  A bridge athwart the sea was cast,

  And o’er it have his legions passed.

  Hark! heralded by horns and drums

  The terrible avenger comes.

  E’en now the giants’ isle he fills

  With warriors huge as clouds and hills,

  And burning with vindictive hate

  Will thunder soon at Lanká’s gate.

  Yield or oppose him: choose between

  Thy safety and the Maithil queen.”

  He ceased: the tyrant’s eyeballs blazed

  With fury as his voice he raised:

  “No, if the dwellers of the sky,

  Gandharvas, fiends assail me, I

  Will keep the Maithil lady still,

  Nor yield her back for fear of ill.

  When shall my shafts with iron hail

  My foeman, Raghu’s son, assail,

  Thick as the bees with eager wing

  Beat on the flowery trees of spring?

  O, let me meet my foe at length,

  And strip him of his vaunted strength,

  Fierce as the sun who shines afar

  Stealing the light of every star.

  Strong as the sea’s impetuous might

  My ways are like the tempest’s flight;

  But Ráma knows not this, or he

  In terror from my face would flee.”

  Canto XXV. Rávan’s Spies.938

  WHEN RÁMA AND the host he led

  Across the sea had safely sped,

  Thus Rávaṇ, moved by wrath and pride,

  To Śuka and to Sáraṇ cried:

  “O counsellors, the Vánar host

  Has passed the sea from coast to coast,

  And Daśaratha’s son has wrought

  A wondrous deed surpassing thought.

  And now in truth I needs must know

  The strength and number of the foe.

  Go ye, to Ráma’s host repair

  And count me all the legions there.

  Learn well what power each captain leads

  His name and fame for warlike deeds.

  Learn by what artist’s wondrous aid

  That bridge athwart the sea was made;

  Learn how the Vánar host came o’er

  And halted on the island shore.

  Mark Ráma son of Raghu well;

  His valour, strength, and weapons tell.

  Watch his advisers one by one,

  And Lakshmaṇ, Raghu’s younger son.

  Learn with observant eyes, and bring

  “Unerring tidings to your king.

  He ceased: then swift in Vánar guise

  Forth on their errand sped the spies.

  They reached the Vánars, and, dismayed,

  Their never-ending lines surveyd:

  Nor would they try, in mere despair,

  To count the countless legions there,

  That crowded valley, plain and hill,

  That pressed about each cave and rill.

  Though sea-like o’er the land were spread

  The endless hosts which Ráma led,

  The bridge by thousands yet was lined,

  And eager myriads pressed behind.

  But sage Vibhishaṇ’s watchful eyes

  Had marked the giants in disguise.

  He gave command the pair to seize,

  And told the tale in words like these:

  “O Ráma these, well known erewhile,

  Are giant sons of Lanká’s isle,

  Two counsellors of Rávaṇ sent

  To watch the invading armament.”

  Vibhishaṇ ceased: at Ráma’s look

  The Rákshas envoys quailed and shook;

  Then suppliant hand to hand they pressed

  And thus Ikshváku’s son addressed:

  “O Ráma, bear the truth we speak:

  Our monarch Rávaṇ bade us seek

  The Vánar legions and survey

  Their numbers, strength, and vast array.”

  Then Ráma, friend and hope and guide

  Of suffering creatures, thus replied:

  “Now giants, if your eyes have scanned

  Our armies, numbering every band,

  Marked lord and chief, and gazed their fill,

  Return to Rávaṇ when ye will.

  If aught remain, if aught anew

  Ye fain would scan with closer view,

  Vibhishaṇ, ready at your call,

  Will lead you forth and show you all.

  Think not of bonds and capture; fear

  No loss of life, no peril here:

  For, captive, helpless and unarmed,

  An envoy never should be harmed.

  Again to Lanká’s town repair,

  Speed to the giant monarch there,

  And be these words to Rávaṇ told,

  Fierce brother of the Lord of Gold:

  “Now, tyrant, tremble for thy sin:

  Call up thy friends, thy kith and kin,

  And let the power and might be seen

  Which made thee bold to steal my queen.

  To-morrow shall thy mournful eye

  Behold thy bravest warriors die,

  And Lanká’s city, tower and wall,

  Struck by my fiery shafts, will fall.

  Then shall my vengeful blow descend

  Its rage on thee and thine to spend,

  Fierce as the fiery bolt that flew

  From heaven against the Dánav crew,

  Mid those rebellious demons sent

  By him who rules the firmament.”

  Thus spake Ikshváku’s son, and ceased:

  The giants from their bonds released

  Lauded the King with glad accord,

  And hasted homeward to their lord.

  Before the tyrant side by side

  Śuka and Sáraṇ stood and cried:

  “Vibhishaṇ seized us, King, and fain

  His helpless captives would have slain.

  But glorious Ráma saw us; he,

  Great-hearted hero, made us free.

  There in one spot our eyes beheld

  Four chiefs on earth unparalleled,

  Who with the guardian Gods may vie

  Who rule the regions of the sky.

  There Ráma stood, the boast and pride

  Of Raghu’s race, by Lakshmaṇ’s side.

  There stood the sage Vibhishaṇ, there

  Sugríva strong beyond compare.

  These four alone can batter down

  Gate, rampart, wall, and Lanká’s town.

  Nay, Ráma matchless in his form,

  A single foe, thy town would storm:

  So wondrous are his weapons, he

  Needs not the succour of the three.

  Why speak we of the countless
train

  That fills the valley, hill and plain,

  The millions of the Vánar breed

  Whom Ráma and Sugríva lead?

  O King, be wise, contend no more,

  And Sítá to her lord restore.”

  Canto XXVI. The Vánar Chiefs.

  “NOT IF THE Gods in heaven who dwell,

  Gandharvas, and the fiends of hell

  In banded opposition rise

  Against me, will I yield my prize.

  Still trembling from the ungentle touch

  Of Vánar hands ye fear too much,

  And bid me, heedless of the shame,

  Give to her lord the Maithil dame.”

  Thus spoke the king in stern reproof;

  Then mounted to his palace roof

  Aloft o’er many a story raised,

  And on the lands beneath him gazed.

  There by his faithful spies he stood

  And looked on sea and hill and wood.

  There stretched before him far away

  The Vánars’ numberless array:

  Scarce could the meadows’ tender green

  Beneath their trampling feet be seen.

  He looked a while with furious eye,

  Then questioned thus the nearer spy:

  “Bend, Sáraṇ, bend thy gaze, and show

  The leaders of the Vánar foe.

  Tell me their heroes’ names, and teach

  The valour, power and might of each.”

  Obedient Sáraṇ eyed the van,

  The leaders marked, and thus began:

  “That chief conspicuous at the head

  Of warriors in the forest bred,

  Who hither bends his ruthless eye

  And shouts his fearful battle cry:

  Whose voice with pealing thunder shakes

  All Lanká, with the groves and lakes

  And hills that tremble at the sound,

  Is Níla, for his might renowned:

  First of the Vánar lords controlled

  By King Sugríva lofty-souled.

  He who his mighty arm extends,

  And his fierce eye on Lanká bends,

  In stature like a stately tower,

  In colour like a lotus flower,

  Who with his wild earth-shaking cries

  Thee, Rávaṇ, to the field defies,

  Is Angad, by Sugríva’s care

  Anointed his imperial heir:

  In wondrous strength, in martial fire

  Peer of King Báli’s self, his sire;

  For Ráma’s sake in arms arrayed

  Like Varuṇ called to Śakra’s aid.

  Behind him, girt by warlike bands,

  Nala the mighty Vánar stands,

  The son of Viśvakarmá, he

  Who built the bridge athwart the sea.

  Look farther yet, O King, and mark

  That chieftain clothed in Sandal bark.

 

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