Sri Valmiki Ramayanam - Book 4- English Verses by Ralph - Canto 37 to 67

THE

RÁMÁYAN OF VÁLMÍKI

Translated into English Verse

BY

RALPH T. H. GRIFFITH, M. A.,

[(Ralph Thomas Hotchkin Griffith), b. 1826 d. 1906]

PRINCIPAL OF THE BENARES COLLEGE

CANTO XXXVII.: THE GATHERING.

He ceased: and King Sugriva cried

To sage Hanúmán  1 by his side:

'Summon the Vánar legions, those

Who dwell about the Lord of Snows:

Those who in Vindhyan groves delight,

Kailása's, or Mahendra's height,

Dwell on the Five bright Peaks, or where

Mandar's white summit cleaves the air:

Wherever they are wandring free

In highlands by the western sea,

On that east hill whence springs the sun,

Or where he sinks when day is done.

Call the great chiefs whose legions till

The forests of the Lotus Hill,  1b

Where every one in strength and size

With the stupendous Anjan  2b vies.

Call those, with tints ot burnished gold

Whom Mahás'aila's caverns hold:

Those who on Dhúnira roam, or hide

In the wild woods on Meru's side.

Call those who, brilliant as the sun,

On high Mahárun leap and run,

Quaffing sweet juices that distil

From odorous trees upon the hill,

Call those whom tranquil haunts delight

Where dwell the sage and anchorite

In groves that through their wide extent

Exhale a thousand blossoms' scent.

Send out, send out: from coast to coast

Assemble all the Vánar host:

With force, with words, with gifts of price

Compel, admonish and entice.

Already envoys have been sent

To warn them of their lord's intent.

Let others urged by thee repeat

My mandate that their steps be fleet.

Those lords who yielding to the sway

Of love's delight would fain delay,

Urge hither with the utmost speed,

Or with thee to my presence lead:

And those who linger to the last

Until ten days be come and passed,

And dare their sovereign to defy.

For their offence shall surely die.

Thousands, yea millions, shall there be,

Obedient to their king's decree,

The lions of the Vánar race,

Assembled from each distant place.

Forth shall they haste like hills in size,

Or mighty clouds that veil the skies,

And swiftly speeding on their way

Bring all our legions in array.'

p. 369

He ceased: the son of Váyu  1 heard,

Submissive to his sovereign's word;

And sent his rapid envoys forth

To east and west and south and north.

They bent their airy course afar

Along the paths of bird and star,

And sped through ether farther yet

Where Vishnu's splendid sphere is set. 2

By sea, on hill, by wood and lake

They called to arms for Ráma's sake,

As each with terror in his breast

Obeyed his awful king's behest.

Three million Vánars, fierce and strong

As Anjan's self, a wondrous throng.

Sped from the spot where Ráma still

Gazed restless from the woody hill.

Ten million others, brave and bold,

With coats that shone like burning gold,

Came flying from the mountain crest

Where sinks the weary sun to rest.

Impetuous from the northern skies,

Wnere Mount Kailása's summits rise,

Ten hundred millions hasted, hued

Like manes of lions, ne'er subdued:

The dwellers on Himálaya's side,

Whose food his roots and fruit supplied,

With rangers of the Vindhyan chain

And neighbours of the Milky Main.  3

Some from the palm groves where they fed,

Some from the woods of betel sped:

In countless numbers, fierce and brave,

They came from mountain, lake, and cave.

   As on their way the Vánars went

To rouse each distant armament,

They chanced that wondrous tree to view

That on Himálaya's summit grew.

Of old upon that sacred height

Was wrought Mahes'var's  4 glorious rite,

Which every God in heaven beheld,

And his glad heart with triumph swelled.

There from pure seed at random sown

Bright plants with luscious fruit had grown,

And, sweet as Amrit to the taste,

The summit of the mountain graced.

Who once should eat the virtuous fruit

That sprang from so divine a root,

One whole revolving moon should be

From every pang of hunger free.

The Vánars culled the fruit they found

Ripe on the sacrificial ground

With rare celestial odours sweet,

To lay them at Sugríva's feet.

Those noble envoys scoured the land

To summon every Vánar band

Then swiftly homeward at the head

Of countless armaments they sped.

They gathered by Kishkindhá's wall.

They thronged Sugríva's palace hall,

And, richly laden, bare within

That fruit of heavenly origin.

Their gifts before their king they spread,

And thus in tones of triumph said:

'Through every land our way we took

To visit hill and wood and brook,

And all thy hosts from east to west

Flock hither at their lord's behest.'

Sugríva with delighted look

The present of his envoys took.

Then bade them go, with gracious speech

Rewarding and dismissing each.

Footnotes

368:1 Válmíki and succeeding poets make the second vowel in this name long or Short at their pleasure.

368:1b Some of the mountains here mentioned are fabulous and others it is impossible to identify. Sugríva means to include all the mountains of India from Kailás the residence of the God Kuvera, regarded as one of the loftiest peaks of the Himálayas, to Mabendra in the extreme south, from the mountain in the east where the sun is said to rise to Astáchal or the western mountain where he sets. The commentators give little assistance: that Mahás'aila, &c. are certain mountains is about all the information they give.

368:2b One of the celestial elephants of the Gods who protect the four quarters and intermediate points of the compass.

369:1 Va'yu or the Wind was the father of Hanumán.

369:2 The path or station of Vishnu is the space between the seven Risbis or Ursa Major, and Dhruva or the polar star.

369:3 One of the seven seas which surround the earth in concentric circles.

369:4 The title of Mahes'var * or Mighty Lord is sometimes given to Indra, but more generally to S'iva whom it here denotes.

CANTO XXXVIII.: SUGRÍVA'S DEPARTURE.

Thus all the princely Vánars, true

To their appointed tasks, withdrew.

Suigríva deemed already done

The work he planned for Raghu's son.

Then Lakshman gently spoke and cheered

Sugríva for his valour feared:

' Now, chieftain, if thy will be so.

Forth from Kishkindhá let us go.'

Sugríva's heart swelled high with pride

As to the prince he thus replied:

'Come, speed we forth without delay:

'Tis mine thy mandate to obey.'

Sugríva bade the dames adieu,

And Tárá and the rest withdrew.

Then at their chieftain's summons came

The Vánars first in rank and fame,

A trusty brave and reverent band,

Meet e'en before a queen to stand.

They at his call made haste to bring

The litter of the glorious king.

' Mount, O my friend.' Sugríva cried,

And straight Sumitrá's son complied.

Then took by Lakshman's side his place

The sovereign of the woodland race,

Upraised by Vánars, fleet and strong.

Who bore the glittering load along.

On high above his royal head

A paly canopy was spread,

And chouries white in many a hand

The forehead of the monarch fanned,

And shell and drum and song and shout

Pealed round him as the king passed out.

p. 370

About the monarch went a throng

Of Vánar warriors brave and strong,

As onward to the mountain shade

Where Ráma dwelt his way he made.

Soon as the lovely spot he viewed

Where Ráma lived in solitude,

The Vánar monarch, far-renowed,

With Lakshman, lightly stepped to ground,

And to the son of Raghu went

Joining his raised hands reverent.

As their great leader raised his hands,

So suppliant stood the Vánar bands.

Well pleased the son of Raghu saw

Those legions, hushed in reverent awe,

Stand silent like the tranquil floods

That raise their hands of lotus buds.

But Ráma, when the king, to greet

His friend, had bowed him at his feet,

Raised him who ruled the Vanar race,

And held him in a close embrace:

Then, when his arms he had unknit,

Besought him by his side to sit,

And thus with gentle words the best

Of men the Vánar king addressed:

   'The prince who well his days divides,

And knows aright the times and tides

To follow duty, joy, or gain,

He, only he, deserves to reign.

But he who wealth and virtue leaves,

And every hour to pleasure cleaves,

False from his bliss like him who wakes

From slumber on a branch that breaks.

True king is he who smites his foes,

And favour to his servants shows,

And of that fruit makes timely use

Which virtue, wealth, and joy produce.

The hour is come that bids thee rise

To aid me in my enterprise.

Then call thy nobles to debate,

And with their help deliberate.'

   'Lost was my power,' the king replied,

'All strength had fled, all hope had died

The Vánars owned another lord,

But by thy grace was all restored.

All this, O conqueror of the foe,

To thee and Lakshman's aid I owe

And his should be the villain's shame

Who durst deny the sacred claim.

These Vánar chiefs of noblest birth

Have at my bidding roamed the earth,

And brought from distant regions all

Our legions at their monarch's call:

Fierce bears with monkey troops combined,

And apes of every varied kind,

Terrific in their forms, who dwell

In grove and wood and bosky dell:

The bright Gaudharvas' brood, the seed

Of Gods, 1 they change their shapes at need.

Each with his legions in array,

Hither, O Prince, they make their way,

They come: and tens of millions swell

To numbers that no tongue may tell. 1b

For thee their armies will unite

With chiefs, Mahendra's peers in might.

From Meru and from Vindhya's chain

They come like clouds that bring the rain.

These round thee to the war will go,

To smite to earth thy demon foe;

Will slay the Rákshas and restore

Thy consort when the fight is o'er."

CANTO XXXIX.: THE VÁNAR HOST.

Then Ráma, best of all who guide

Their steps by duty, thus replied:

'What marvel if Lord Indra send

The kindly rain, O faithful friend?

If, thousand-rayed, the God of Day

Drive every darksome cloud away?

Or, rising high, the Lord of Night

Flood the broad heaven with silver light?

What marvel, King, that one like thee

The glory of his friends.should be?

No marvel, O my lord, that thou

Hast shown thy noble nature now.

Thy heart, Sugriva, well I know:

Naught from thy lips but truth may flow,

With thee for friend and champion all

My foes beneath my arm will fall.

The Rákshas, when my queen he stole,

Brought sure destruction on his soul,

Like Anuhláda  2b who beguiled

Queen Sachí called Puloma's child.

Yes, near, Sugriva, is the day

When I my demon foe shall slay,

As conquering Indra in his ire

Slew Queen Paulomi's haughty sire.' 3b

p. 371

   He ceased: thick clouds of dust rose high

To every quarter of the sky:

The very sun grew faint and pale

Behind the darkly-gathering veil.

The mighty clouds that hung o'erhead

From east to west thick darkness spread,

And earth to her foundations shook

With hill and forest, lake and brook.

Then hidden was the ground beneath

Fierce warriors armed with fearful teeth,

Hosts numberless, each lord in size

A match for him who rules the skies:

From many a sea and distant hill,

From rock and river, lake and rill.

Some like the morning sun were bright.

Some, like the moon, were silver white:

These green as lotus fibres, those

White-coated from their native snows. 1

Then S'atabali came in view

Girt by a countless retinue.

Like some gold mountain high in air

Tárá's illustrious sire 2 was there.

There Rumá's father, 3 far-renowned,

With tens of thousands ranged around.

There, tinted like the tender green

Of lotus filaments, was seen,

Compassed by countless legions, one

Whose face was as the morning sun,

Hanúmán's father good and great,

Kesarí, 4 wisest in debate.

There the proud king Gaváksha, feared

For his strong warrior arm, appeared.

There Dhúmra, mighty lord, the dread

Of foes, his ursine legions led.

There Panas, first for warlike fame,

With twenty million warriors came.

There glorious Níla, dark of hue,

Arrayed his countless troops in view.

There moved lord Gavaya brave and bold,

Resplendent like a hill of gold,

And near him Darímukha stood

With millions from the hill and wood

And *Dwivid famed for strength and speed,

And Mamda, both of Asvin seed.

There Gaja, strong and glorious, led

The countless troops around him spread,

And Jámbaván 5 the king whose sway

The bears delighted to obey,

With swarming myriads onward pressed

True to his lord Sugríva's hest;

And princely Ruman, dear to fame,

Led millions whom no hosts could tame,

All these and many a chief beside 1b

Came onward fierce in warlike pride.

They covered all the plain, and still

Pressed forward over wood and hill.

In rows for many a league around

They rested on the grassy ground;

Or to Sugríva made their way.

Like clouds about the Lord of Day,

And to the king their proud heads bent

In power and might preeminent.

Sugríva then to Ráma sped.

And raised his reverent hands, and said

That every chief from coast to coast

Was present with his warrior host.

Footnotes

370:1b The numbers are unmanageable in English verse. The poet speaks of hundreds of arbudas; and an arbuda is a hundred millions.

370:2b Anuhláda or Anuhráda is one of the four sons of the mighty Hiranyakasipu, an Asur or a Daitya son of Kasyapa and Diti and killed by Vishnu in his incarnation of the Man-Lion Narasinha. According to the Bhágavata Purána the Daitya or Asur Hiranyakasipu and Hiranyáksha his brother, both killed by Vishnu, were born again as Rávan and Kumbhakarna his brother.'

370:3b Putoma, a demon, was the father-in-law of Indra who destroyed him in order to avert an imprecation. Paulomit is a patronymic denoting Sachi the daughter of Puloma.

371:1 "Observe the variety of colours which the poem attributes to all these inhabitants of the different mountainous regions, some white, others yellow, &c. Such dif- ferent colours were perhaps peculiar and distinctive characteristics of those various races." GORRESSIO.

371:2 Sushen.

371:3 Tara.

371:4 Kesari was the husband of Hanumnán's mother, and is here called his father.

371:5 "I here unite under one heading two animals of p. 372 but which from some gross resemblances, probably helped by an equivoque in the language, are closely affiliated in the Hindoo myth.....a reddish colour of the skin, want of symmetry and ungainliness of form, strength in hugging with the fore paws or arms, the faculty of climbing, shortness of tail(?), sensuality, capacity of instruction in dancing and in music, are all characteristics which more or less distinguish and meet in bears as well as in monkeys In the Rámáyanam, the wise Jámnavant, the Odysseus of the expedition of Lanká, is called now king of the bears (rikshaparthivah), now great monkey (Mahákapih). DeGubernatis: Zoological Mythology, Vol. II. p. 97.

CANTO XL.: THE ARMY OF THE EAST.

With practiced eye the king reviewed

The Vánars' counties multitude,

And, joying that his hest was done,

Thus spake to Raghu's mighty son:

'See, all the Vánar hosts who fear

My sovereign might are gathered here.

Chiefs strong as Indra's self, who speed

Wher'er they list, these armies lead.

Fierce and terrific to the view

As Daityas or the Dánav 2b crew,

p. 372

Famed in all lands for souls afire

With lofty thoughts, they never tire,

O'er hill and vale they wander free,

And islets of the distant sea.

And these gathered myriads, all

Will serve thee, Ráma, at thy call.

Whate'er thy heart advises, say:

Thy mandates will the host obey.'

   Then answered Ráma, as he pressed

The Vánar monarch to his breast:

'O search for my lost Sítá, strive

To find her if she still survive:

And in thy wondrous wisdom trace

Fierce Rávan to his dwelling-place.

And when by toil and search we know

Where Sítá lies and where the foe,

With thee, dear friend, will I devise

Fit means to end the enterprise.

Not mine, not Lakshman's is the power

To guide us in the doubtful hour.

Thou, sovereign of the *Vanars, thou

Must be our hope and leader now.'

   He ceased: at King Sugríva's call

Near came a Vánar strong and tall.

Huge as a towering mountain, loud

As some tremendous thunder cloud,

A prince who warlike legions led:

To him his sovereign turned and said:

'Go, take ten thousand  1 of our race

Well trained in lore of time and place,

And search the eastern region; through

Groves, woods, and hills thy way pursue,

There seek for Sítá, trace the spot

Where Rávan hides, and weary not.

Search for the captive in the caves

Of mountains, and by woods and waves.

To Surjú, 2 Kauá*ikí, 3 repair,

Bhagírath's daughter 4 fresh and fair.

Search mighty *Yámun's 5 peak, explore

Swift Yamu*ná's 6 delightful shore,

Sarasvati 7 and Sindhu's 8 tide,

And rapid S'ona's 1b pebbly side.

Then roam afar by Mahí's 2b bed

Where Kálamahí's groves are spread.

Go where the silken tissue shines,

Go to the land of silver mines. 3b

Visit each isle and mountain steep

And city circled by the deep,

And distant villages that high

About the peaks of Mandar lie.

Speed over Yavadwipa's land, 4b

And see Mount S'is'ir 5b proudly stand

Uplifting to the skies his head

By Gods and Dánavs visited.

Search each ravine and mountain pass,

Each tangled thicket deep in grass.

Search every cave with utmost care

If haply Ráma's queen be there.

Then pass beyond the sounding sea

Where heavenly beings wander free,

And S'ona's 6b waters swift and strong

With ruddy billows foam along.

Search where his shelving banks descend,

Search where the hanging woods extend

Try if the pathless thickets screen

The robber and the captive queen.

Search where the torrent floods that rend

The mountain to the plains descend:

Search dark abysses where they rave,

Search mountain slope and wood and cave

Then on with rapid feet and gain

The inlands of the fearful main

Where, tortured by the tempest's lash,

Against rude rocks the billows d*ash:

An ocean like a sable cloud,

Whose margent monstrous serpents crowd;

p. 373

An ocean rising with a roar

To beat upon an iron shore.

On, onward still! your feet shall tread

Shores of the sea whose waves are red,

Where spreading wide your eyes shall see

The guilt-tormenting cotton tree  1

And the wild spot where Garud  2 dwells

Which gems adorn and ocean shells,

High as Kallása, nobly decked,

Wrought by the heavenly architect.  3

Hnge giants named Mandehas  4 there

In each foul shape they love to wear,

Numbing the soul with terror's chill,

Hang from the summit of the hill.

When darts the sun his earliest beam

They plunge them in the ocean stream,

New vigour from his rays obtain,

And hang upon the rocks again

Speed onward still: your steps shall be

At length beside the Milky Sea

Whose everv ripple as it curls

Gleams glorious with its wealth of pearls.

Amid that sea like pale clouds spread

The white Mount Rishabh  5 rears his head.

About the mountain's glorious waist

Woods redolent of bloom are braced.

A lake where lotuses unfold

Their silver buds with threads of gold,

Sudar*s'an ever bright and fair

Where white swans sport, lies gleaming there,

The wandering Kinnar's  6 dear resort,

Where heavenly nymphs and Yakshas  7 sport.

On! leave the Milky Sea behind:

Another flood your search shall find,

A waste of waters, wild and drear.

That chills each living heart with fear.

There see the horse's awful head,

Wrath-born, that flames in Ocean's bed. 1b

There rises up a fearful cry

From the sea things that move thereby,

When, helpless, powerless for flight,

They gaze upon the horrid sight.

Past to the northern shore, and then

Beyond the flood three leagues and ten

Your wondering glances will behold

Mount Játarúpa  2b bright with gold.

There like the young moon pale of hue

The monstrous serpent  3b will ye view,

The earth's supporter, whose bright eyes

Resemble lotus leaves in size.

He rests upon the mountain's brow,

And all the Gods before him bow.

Ananta with a thousand heads

His length in robes of azure spreads.

A triple-headed palm of gold--

Meet standard for the lofty-souled--

Springs towering from the mountain's crest

Beneath whose shade he loves to rest,

So that in eastern realms each God

May use it as a measuring-rod.

Beyond, with burning gold aglow,

The eastern steep his peaks will show,

Which in unrivalled glory rise

A hundred leagues to pierce the skies,

And all the neighbouring air is bright

With golden trees that clothe the height.

A lofty peak uprises there

Ten leagues in height and one league square

*Saumanas*, wrought of glistering gold,

Ne'er to be loosened from its hold.

There his first step Lord Vishnu placed

When through the universe he paced,

And with his second lightly pressed

The loftiest peak of Meru's crest.

When north of Jambudwíp  4b the sun

p. 374

A portion of his course has run.
And hangs above this mountain height,
Then creatures see the genial light.
Vaikhánases, 1 saints far renowned,
And Bálaklulvas, 2 love the ground
Where in their glory half divine.
Touched by the morning glow, they shine
The light that flashes from that steep
Illumines all Sudars'andwip, 3
And on each creature, as it glows,
The sight and strength of life bestows.
Search well that mountain's woody side
If Rávan there his captive hide.
The rising sun, the golden hill
The air with growing splendours fill,
Till flashes from the east the red
Of morning with the light they shed.
This, where the sun begins his state,
Is earth and heaven's most eastern gate.
Through all the mountain forest seek
By waterfall and cave and peak.
Search every nook and bosky dell,
If Rávan there with Sítá dwell.
There, Vánars, there your steps must stay:
No farther eastward can ye stray.
Beyond no sun, no moon given light,
But all is sunk in endless night.
Thus far, O Vánar lords, may you
O'er sea and land your search pursue.
But wild and dark and known to none
Is the drear space beyond the sun.
That mountain whence the sun ascends
Your long and weary journey ends. 4
Now go, and in a month return,
And let success my praises earn,
He who beyond tho month shall stay
Will with his life the forfeit pay.'

Footnotes

Gandhamádana, Angad, Tára, Indrajánu, Rambha, Durmukha, Hanumán, Nala, Da mukha, S'arabha, Kumuda, Vahni.

b Daityas and Dánavas are fiends and enemies of the Gods, life the Titans of Greek mythology.

372:1 I reduce the unwieldy numbers of the original to more modest figures.

372:2 Sarayú now Sarjú is the river on which Ayodhyá was built.

372:3 Kaus'iki is a river which flows through Behar, commonly called Kosi.

372:4 Bhagirath's daughter is Ganga or the Ganges. The legend is told at length in Book I. Canto XLIV The Descent of Gangá.

372:5 A mountain not identified.

372:6 The Jumna. The river is personified as the twin sister of Yama, and hence regarded as the daughter of the Sun.

372:7 The Sarasvatí (corruptly called Sursooty, is supposed to join the Ganges and Jumna at Prayág or Allahabad. It rises in the mountains bounding the north-east part of the province of Delhi, and running in a south-westerly direction becomes lost in the sands of the great desert.

372:8 The Sindhu is the Indus, the Sanskrit s becoming h in Persian and being in this instance dropped by the Greeks.

372:1b The Sone which rises in the district of Nagpore and falls into the Ganges above Patna.

372:2b Mahi* is a river rising in Malwa and falling into the gulf of Cambay after a westerly course of 280 miles.

372:3b There is nothing to show what parts of the country the poet intended to denote as silk-producing and silver-producing.

372:4b Yavadwipa means the island of Yava, wherever that may be.

372:5b S'is'ir is said to be a mountain ridge projecting from the base of Meru on the south. WILSON'S Vishnu Purána, ed. Hall, Vol. II. p. 117.

372:6b This appears to be some mythical stream and not the well-known Sone. The name means red-coloured.

373:1 A fabulous thorny rod of the cotton tree used for torturing the wicked in hell. The tree gives its name, Sálmali, to one of the seven Dwípas, or great divisions of the known continent: and also to a hell where the wicked are tormented with the pickles of the tree.

373:2 The king of the feathered creation.

373:3 Vis´vakarmá, the Muleiher of the Indian heaven.

373:4 "The terrific fiends named Mandehas attempt to devour the sun: for Brahmá denounced this curse upon them, that without the power to perish they should die every day (and revive by night) and therefore a fierce contest occurs (daily) between them and the sun."

WILSON'S Vishnu Purána. Vol.II. p. 250.

373:5 Said in the Vishnu Purána to be a ridge projecting from the base of Meru to the north.

373:6 Kinnars are centaurs reversed, beings with equine head and human bodies.

373:7 Yakshas are demi-gods attendant on "Ruyera"* the God of wealth.

373:1b Aurva was one of the descendants of Bhrigu From his wrath proceeded a flame that threatened to destroy the world, had not Aurva cast it into the ocean where it remained concealed, and having the face of a horse. The legend is told in the Mahábharat. I. 6*3*02.

373:2b The word Játarupa means gold.

373:3b The celebrated mythological serpent king Sesha, called also Ananta or the infinite, represented as bearing the earth on one of his thousand heads.

373:4b Jambudwípa is in the centre of the seven great dwípas or continents into which the world is divided, and in the centre of Jambudwípa is the golden p. 374 mountain Meru 84,000 yojans high, and crowned by the great city of Brahmá, Sse WILSON'S Vishnu Purána, Vol II, p. 110.

374:1 Vaikhánases are a race of hermit saints said to have sprung from the nails of Prajápati.

374:2 "The wife of Eratu, Samnnti, brought forth the sixty thousand Válakhilyas, pigmy sages, no bigger than a joint of the thumb, chaste, pious, resplendent as the rays of the Sun" WlLSOK'S Vishnu Purána.

374:3 The continent in which Sudarsan or Meru stands, i. e. Jambudwip.

374:4 The names of some historical peoples which occur in this Canto and in the Cantos describing the south and north will he found in the ADDITIONAL NOTES. They are bare lists, not susceptible of a metrical version.

CANTO XLI.: THE ARMY OF THE SOUTH.

He gathered next a chosen band

For service in the southern land.

He summoned Níla son of Fire,

And, offspring of the eternal Sire,

Jámbaván bold and strong and tall.

And Hanumán, the best of all,

And many a valiant lord beside, 1b

With Angad for their chief and guide.

'Go forth,' he cried, 'with all this host

Exploring to the southern coast:

The thousand peaks that Vindhya shows

Where every tree and creeper grows:

Where Narmadá's  2b sweet waters run,

And serpents bask them in the sun:

Where Krishnavení, 3b currents flee,

And sparkles fair Godávaií. 4b

Through Mekhal, 5b pass and Utkal's, 6b land:

Go where Das'árna's, 7b cities stand.

Avantí, 8b seek, of high renown,

And Abravanti's, 9b glorious town.

Search every hill and brook and cave

Where Dandak's woods their branches wave

Avomukh's, 10b woody hill explore

Whose sides are bright with richest ore,.

lifting his glorious head on high

From bloomy groves that round him lie.

p. 375

Search well his forests where the breeze

Blows fragrant from the sandal trees.

Then will you see Káverí's 1 stream

Whose pleasant waters glance and gleam,

And to the lovely banks entice

The sportive maids of Paradise.

High on the top of Malaya's 2 hill,

In holy musing, calm and still,

Sits, radiant as the Lord of Light,

Agastya, 3 noblest anchorite.

Soon as that lofty-thoughted lord

His high permission shall accord,

Pass Támraparní's 4 flood whose isles

Are loved by basking crocodiles.

The sandal woods that fringe her side

Those islets and her waters hide;

While, like an amorous matron, she

Speeds to her own dear lord the sea.

Thence hasting on your way behold

The Pándyas' 5 gates of pearl and gold.

Then, with your task maturely planned,

On ocean's shore your feet will stand.

Where, by Agastya's high decree,

Mahendra, 6 planted in the sea,

With tinted peaks against the tide

Rises in solitary pride,

And glorious in his golden glow

Spurns back the waves that beat below.

Fair mountain, bright with creepers' bloom

And every tint that trees assume,

Where Yaksha, God, and heavenly maid

Meet wandering in the lovely shade,

At changing moon and solemn tide

By Indra's presence glorified.

One hundred leagues in fair extent

An island 7 fronts the continent:

No man may tread its glitering shore

With utmost heed that isle explore,

For the fair country owns the sway

Of Rávan whom we burn to day.

A mighty monster stands to keep

The passage of the southern deep,

Lifting her awful arms on high

She grasps e'en shadows as they fly.

Speed through that isle, and onward still

Where in mid sea the Flowery Hill 1b

Haises on high his bloomy head

By saints and angels visited.

There, with a hundred gleaming peaks

Bright as the sun, the sky he seeks,

One glorious peak the Lord of Day

Gilds ever with his loving ray;

Thereon ne'er yet the glances fell

Of thankless wretch or infidel.

Bow to that hill in reverence due,

And then once more your search pursue.

Beyond that glorious mountain hie,

And Súryaván, 2b proud hill is nigh.

Your rapid course yet farther bend

Where Vaidyut's 3b airy peaks ascend.

There trees of noblest sort, profuse

Of wealth, their kindly gifts produce.

Their precious fruits, O Vánars, taste,

The honey sip, and onward haste.

Next will ye see Mount Kunjar rise,

Who cheers with beauty hearts and eyes.

There is Agastya's 4b mansion, decked

Bv heaven's all moulding architect.

Near Bhogavatí 5b stands, the place

Where dwell the hosts of serpent race:

A broad-wayed city, walled and barred,

Which watchful legions keep and guard,

The fiercest of the serpent youth,

Each awful for his venomed tooth:

And throned in his imperial hall

Is Vásuki 6b who rules them all.

Explore the serpent city well,

Search town and tower and citadel,

And scan each field and wood that lies

Around it, with your watchful eyes.

Beyond that spot your way pursue:

A noble mountain shall ye view,

Named Rishabh, like a mighty bull,

With gems made bright and beautiful.

p. 376

All trees of sandal flourish there

Of heavenly fragrance, rich and rare.

But, though they tempt your longing eyes,

Avoid to touch them, and be wise.

For Rohitas, a guardian band

Of fierce Gandharvas, round them stand,

Who five bright sovereign lords 1 obey,

In glory like the God of Day.

Here by good deeds a home is won.

With shapes like fire, the moon, the sun.

Here they who merit heaven by worth

Dwell on the confines of the earth.

There stay; beyond it, dark and drear,

Lies the departed spirits' sphere,

And, girt with darkness, far from bliss,

Is Yama's sad metropolis. 2

So far, my lords, o'er land and sea

Vour destined course is plain and free.

Beyond your steps you may not set,

Where living thing ne'er journeyed yet.

With utmost care these realms survey,

And all you meet upon the way.

And, when the lady's course is traced,

Back to your king, O Vánars, haste.

And he who tells me he has seen.

After long search, the Maithil queen,

Shall gain a noble guerdon: he

In power and bliss shall equal me.

Dear as my very life, above

His fellows in his master's love;

I call him, yea though stained with crime.

My kinsman from that happy time.'

Footnotes

374:1b Suhotra, S'arári, S'aragulma, Gain, Gavák-ha, Gavaya, Sushena, Gandhamádana, Ulkámukha, and Ananga.

374:2b The modern Nerbudda.

374:3b Krishnavení is mentioned in the Vishnu Purnna as 'the deep Krishnaven' '* but there appears to be no clue to its identification.

374:4b The modern Godavery.

374:5b The Mekbaias or Mekalas according to the Patánas live in the Vindhya hills, but here they appear among the peoples of the south.

374:6b Utkal is still the native nameof Oriss*.

374:7b The land of the people of the 'ten forts.' Professor Hall in a note on WlL.- SONS Vishnu Purana, Vol. II. p.160 says: "The oral traditions of the vicinity to this day assign the nameof Dasarna to a region lying to the east of the District of Cbundeyree."

374:8b Avantí is one of the ancient names of the celebrated Ujjayin or Oujein in Central India.

374:9b Not identified

374:10b Ayemukh means iron faced. The mountun is not identified.

375:1 The Káverí or modern Cauvery is well known and has always borne the same appellation, being the Chaberis of Ptolemy.

375:2 One of the seven principal mountain chains: the southern portion of the Western Gháts.

375:3 Agastya is the great sage who has already frequently appeared as Ráma's friend and benefactor.

375:4 Támraparni is a river rising in Malaya.

375:5 The Pándyas are a people of the Decean.

375:6 Mahendra is the chain of hills that extends from Orissa and the northern Sircars to Gondwána, part of which near Ganjam is still called Mahendra Malay or hills of Mahendra.

375:7 Lanká, Sinhaladvípa, Sarandib, or Ceylon,

375:1b The Flowery Hill of course is mythical.

375:2b The whole of the geography south of Lanká is of course mythical. Súryaván means Sunny.

375:3b Vaidyut means connected with lightning.

375:4b Agastya is here placed far to the south of Lanká. Earlier in this Canto he was said to dwell on Malaya.

375:5b Bhogavatí has been frequently mentioned: it is the capital of the serpent Gods or demons, and usually represented as being in the regions under the earth.

375:6b Vásuki is according to some accounts the king of the Nágas or serpent Gods

CANTO XLII.: THE ARMY OF THE WEST.

Then to Sushen Sugríva bent,

And thus addressed him reverent:

'Two hundred thousand of our best

With thee, my lord, shall seek the west.

Explore Suráshtra's 3 distant plain,

Explore Váhlíka's 4 wild domain,

And all the pleasant brooks that flee

Through mountains to the western sea.

Search clustering groves on mountain

heights,

And woods the whom of anchorites.

Search where the breezy hills are high,

Search where the desert regions lie.

Search all the western land beset

With woody mountains like a net.

The country's farthest limit reach,

And stand upon the ocean beach.

There wander through the groves of palm

Where the soft air is full of balm.

Through grassy dell and dark ravine

Seek Rávan and the Maithil queen.

Go visit Somagiri's 1b steep

Where Sindhu 2b mingles with the deep.

There lions, borne on swift wings, roam

The levels of their mountain home,

And elephants and monsters bear,

Caught from the ocean, to their lair.

You Vánars, changing forms at will.

With rapid search must scour the hill,

And his sky-kissing peak of gold

Where loveliest trees their blooms unfold.

There golden-peaked, ablaze with light,

Uprises Páriyátra's 3b height

Where wild Gandharvas, fierce and fell,

In bands of countless myriads dwell.

Pluck ye no fruit within the wood;

Beware the impious neighbourhood,

Where, very mighty, strong, and hard

To overcome, the fruit they guard.

Yet search for Janak's daughter still,

For Vánars there need fear no ill.

Near, bright as turkis, Vajra 4b named,

There stands a hill of diamond framed.

Soaring a hundred leagues in pride,

With trees and creepers glorified.

Search there each cave and dark abyss

By waterfall and precipice.

Far in that sea the wild waves beat

On Chakraván's 5b firm-rooted feet.

Where the great discus, 6b thousand rayed,

By Vísvakarmá's 7b art was made.

When Panchajan 8b the fiend was slain.

And Hayagríva, 9b fierce in vain,

p. 377

Thence taking shell and discus went

Lord Vishnu, God preeminent.

On sixty thousand hills of gold

With wondering eyes shall ye behold,

Where in his glory every one

Is brilliant as the morning sun.

Full in the midst King Meru, 1 best

Of mountains, lifts his lofty crest,

On whom of yore, as all have heard,

The sun well-pleased this boon conferred:

'On thee, O King, on thee and thine

Light, day and night, shall ever shine.

Gandharvas, Gods who love thee well

And on thy sacred summits dwell,

Undimmed in lustre, bright and fair,The golden sheen shall ever share.'

The Vis'vas, 2 Vasus 3 they who ride

The tempest, 4 every God beside,

Draw nigh to Meru's lofty crest

When evening darkens in the west,

And to the parting Lord of Day

The homage of their worship pay,

Ere yet a while, unseen of all,

Behind Mount Asta's  5 peaks he fall.

Wrought by the heavenly artist's care

A glorious palace glitters there,

And round about it sweet birds sing

Where the gay trees are blossoming:

The home of Varun  1b high souled-lord,

Wrist-girded with his deadly cord. 2b

With ten tall stems, a palm between

Meru and Asta's hill is seen:

Pure silver from the base it springs,

And far and wide its lustre flings.

Seek Rávanthe dame by brook,

In pathless glen, in leafy nook

On Meru's crest a hermit lives

Bright with the light that penance gives:

Sávarni  3b is he named, renowned

As Brahmá's peer, with glory crowned.

There bowing down in reverence speak

And ask him of the dame you seek.

Thus far the splendid Lord of Day

Pursues through heaven his ceaseless way,

Shedding on every spot his light;

Then sinks behind Mount Asta's height,

Thus far advance: the sunless sea

Beyond is all unknown to me.

Sushen of mighty arm, long tried

In peril, shall your legions guide,

Receive his words with high respect,

And ne'er his lightest wish neglect.

He is my consort's sire, and hence

Deserves the utmost reverence.'

Footnotes

376:1 S'ailúsha, Gramini, Siksha, Suka, Babhru.

376:2 The distant south beyond the confines of the earth is the home of departed spirits and the city of Yama the God of Death.

376:3 Suráshtra, the 'good country,' is the modern Surat.

376:4 A country north-west of Afghanistan, Baíkh

376:1b The Moon-mountain here is mythical.

376:2b Sindhu is the Indus.

376:3b Páriyátra, or as more usually written Páripátra, is the central or western portion of the Vindhya chain which skirts the province of Malwa.

376:4b Vajra means both diamond and thunderbolt, the two substances being supposed to be identical.

376:5b Chakraván means the discus-bearer.

376:6b The discus is the favourite weapon of Vishnu

376:7b The Indian Hephaistos or Vulcan.

376:8b Panchajan was a demon who lived in the sea in the form of a conch shell. WILSON'S Vishnu Pura'na,* V. 21.

376:9b Hayagríva,Horse-necked, is the name of a Daitya who at the dissolution of the universe caused by Brahmá's sleep, seized and carried off the Vedas. Vishnu slew him and recovered the sacred treasures.

377:1 Meru stands in the centre of Jambudwípa and consequently of the earth. "The sun travels round the world, keeping Meru always on his right. To the spectator who fronts him, therefore, as he rises Meru must be always on the north; and as the sun's rays do not penetrate beyond the centre of the mountain, the regions beyond, or to the north of it must be in darkness, whilst those on the south of it must be in light: north and south being relative, not absolute, terms, depending on the position of the spectator with regard to the Sun and Meru." WILSON'S Vishnu Pura'na, Vol. II. p. 243. Note.

377:2 The Vis'vadevas are a class of deities to whom sacrifices should be daily offered, as part of the ordinary worship of the householder. According to the Váyun Purána this is a privilege conferred on them by Brahmá and the Pitris as a reward for religious austerities practised by them upon Himálaya.

377:3 The eight Vasus were originally personifications like other Vedic deities, of natural phenomena, such as Fire, Wind, &c. Their appellations are variously given by different authorities.

377:4 The Maruts or Storm-Gods, frequently addressed and worshipped as the attendants and allies of Indra.

377:5 The mountain behind which the sun sets.

CANTO XLIII.: THE ARMY OF THE NORTH.

Forth went the legions of the west:

And wise Sugríva addressed

S'atabal, summoned from the crowd.

To whom the sovereign cried aloud:

'Go forth, O Vánarf, go forth,

Explore the regions of the north.

Thy host a hundred thousand be,

And Yama's sons  4b attend on thee.

With dauntless courage, strength, and skill

Search every river, wood, and hill.

Through every land in order go

Right onward to the Hills of Snow.

Search mid the peaks that shine afar,

In woods of Lodh and Deodár. 5b

Search if with Janak's daughter, screened

By sheltering rocks, there lie the fiend

p. 378

The holy grounds of Soma tread

By Gods and minstrels visited.

Reach Kála's mount, and flats that lie

Among the peaks that tower on high.

Then leave that hill that gleams with ore,

And fair Sudars'an's heights explore.

Then on to Devasakhát 1 hie.

Loved by the children of the sky.

A dreary land you then will see

Without a hill or brook or tree,

A hundred leagues, bare, wild, and dread

In lifeless desolation, spread.

Pursue your onward way, and haste

Through the dire horrors of the waste

Until triumphant with delight

You reach Kailása'stering height.

There stands a palace decked with gold,

For King Kuvera  2 wrought of old,

A home the heavenly artist planned

And fashioned with his cunning hand.

There lotuses adorn the flood

With full-blown flower and opening bud

Where swans and mallards float, and gay

Apsarases  3 come down to play.

There King Vaisravan's  4 self, the lord

By all the universe adored,

Who golden gifts to mortals sends,

Lives with the Guhyakas  5 his friends.

Search every cavern in the steep,

And green glens where the moonbeams sleep.

If haply in that distant ground

The robber and the dame be found.

Then on to Krauncha's hill,  6 and through

His fearful pass your way pursue:

Though dark and terrible the vale

Your wonted courage must not fail.

There through abyss and cavern seek,

On lofty ridge, and mountain peak.

On, on! pursue your journey still

By valley, lake, and towering hill.

Reach the North Kurus' land, where rest

The holy spirits of the blest;

Where golden buds of lilies gleam

Resplendent on the silver stream,

And leaves of azure turkis throw

Soft splendour on the waves below.

Bright as the sun at early morn

Fair pools that happy clime adorn,

Where shine the loveliest flowers on stems

Of crystal and all valued gems.

Blue lotuses through all the land

The glories of their blooms expand,

And the resplendent earth is strown

With peerless pearl and precious stone.

There stately trees can scarce uphold

The burthen of their fruits of gold,

And ever flaunt their gay attire

Of flower and leaf like flames of fire.

All there sweet lives untroubled spend

In bliss and joy that know not end,

While pearl-decked maidens laugh, or sing

To music of the silvery string.  1b

Still on your forward journey keep,

And rest you by the northern deep,

Where springing from the billows high

Mount Somagiri  2b seeks the sky,

And lightens with perpetual glow

The sunless realm that lies below.

There, present through all life's extent,

Dwells Brahmá Lord preeminent,

And round the great God, manifest

In Rudra  3b forms high sages rest.

Then turn, O Vánarsrch no more,

Nor tempt the sunless, boundless shore.'

Footnotes

377:1b One of the oldest and mightiest of the Vedic deities; in later mythology regard ed as the God of the sea.

377:2b The knotted noose with which he seizes and punishes transgressors.

377:3b Sávarni Manu, Manuspring of the Sun by Chháyá.

377:4b The poet has not said who the sons of Yama are.

377:5b The Lodhra or Lodh (Symplocoa Racemosa) and the DevadárueodaDeodar are well known trees.

378:1 The hills mentioned are not identifiable. Soma means the Moon. Kála, black; Sudaras'an, fair to see; and Devasakhá friend of the Gods

378:2 The God of Wealth.

378:3 The nymphs of Paradise.

378:4 Kuvera the son of Vis'ravas.

378:5 A class of demigods who, like the Yakshas, are the attendants of Kuvera, and the guardians of his treasures.

378:6 Situated in the eastern part of the Himálaya chain, on the north of Assam. The mountain was torn asunder and the pass formed by the War-God Kártikeya and Paras'uráma.

CANTO XLIV.: THE RING.

But special counselling he gave

To Hanumánwise and brave:

p. 379

To him on whom his soul relied,

With friendly words the monarch cried:

'O best of Vánarsght can stay

By land or sea thy rapid way,

Who through the air thy flight canst bend,

And to the Immortals' home ascend.

All realms, I ween, are known to thee

With every mountain, lake, and sea.

In strength and speed which naught can tire

Thou, worthy rival of thy sire

The mighty monarch of the wind,

Where'er thou wilt a way canst find.

Exert thy power, O swift and strong,

Bring back the lady lost so long,

For time and place, O thou most wise,

Lie open to thy searching eyes.'

   When Ráma heard that special best

To Hanumáne the rest,

He from the monarch's favour drew

Hope of success and trust anew

That he on whom his lord relied,

In toil and peril trained and tried,

Would to a happy issue bring

The task commanded by the king.

He gave the ring that bore his name,

A token for the captive dame,

That the sad lady in her woe

The missive of her lord might know.

'This ring,' he said, 'my wife will see,

Nor fear an envoy sent by me.

Thy valour and thy skill combined,

Thy resolute and vigorous mind,

And King Sugríva's behest,

With joyful hopes inspire my breast.'

Footnotes

378:1b "The Uttara Kurus, it should be remarked, may have been a real people, as they are mentioned in the Altareya BráhmanaI. 14 ... "Wherefore the several nations who dwell in this northern quarter, beyond the Himavat, the Uttara Kurus and the Uttara Madras are consecrated to glorious dominion, and people term them the glorious. In another passage of the same work, however, the Uttara Kurus are treated as belonging to the domain of mythology." MUIR's Sanskrit Texts. Vol. I p. 494. See ADDITIONAL NOTES.

378:2b The Moon-mountain.

378:3b The Rudras are the same as the storm winds, more usually called Maruts, and are often associated with Indra. In the later mythology the Rudras are regarded as inferior manifestations of S'iva, and most of their names are also names of Siva.

CANTO XLV.: THE DEPARTURE.

Away, away the Vánars

Like locusts o'er the land outspread.

To northern realms where rising high

The King of Mountains cleaves the sky,

Fierce S'atabal with vast array

Of Vánariors led the way.

Far southward, as his lord decreed,

Wise Hanumán Wind-God's seed,

With Angad his swift way pursued,

And Tára's warlike multitude,

Strong Vinata with all his band

Betook him to the eastern land,

And brave Sushen in eager quest

Sped swiftly to the gloomy west.

Each Vánarftain sought with speed

The quarter by his king decreed,

While from his legions rose on high

The shout and boast and battle cry:

'We will restore the dame and beat

The robber down beneath our feet.

My arm alone shall win the day

From Rávanin single fray,

Shall rob the robber of his life,

And rescue Ráma's captive wife

All trembling in her fear and woe.

Here, comrades, rest: no farther go:

For I will vanquish hell, and she

Shall by this arm again be free.

The rooted mountains will I rend,

The mightiest trees will break and bend.

Earth to her deep foundations cleave,

And make the calm sea throb and heave.

A hundred leagues from steep to steep

In desperate bound my feet shall leap.

My steps shall tread unchecked and free.

Through woods, o'er land and hill and sea,

Range as they list from flood to fell,

And wander through the depths of hell.

CANTO XLVI.: SUGRÍVA'S.

'How, King,' cried Ráma, 'didst thou gain

Thy lore of sea and hill and plain?

'I told thee how,' Sugríva,

From Báli's arm Máyáví  1

To Malaya's hill, and strove to save

His life by hiding in the cave.

I told how Báli sought, to kill

His foe, the hollow of the hill;

Nor need I, King, again unfold

The wondrous tale already told.

Then, wandering forth, my way I took

By many a town and wood and brook.

I roamed the earth from place to place,

Till, like a mirror's polished face,

The whole broad disk, that lies between

Its farthest bounds, mine eyes had seen.

I wandered first to eastern skies

Where fairest trees rejoiced mine eyes,

And many a cave and wooded hill

Where lilies robed the lake and rill.

There metal dyes that hill  2 adorn

Whence springs the sun to light the morn.

There, too, I viewed the Milky sea,

Where nymphs of heaven delight to be.

Then to the south I made my way

From regions of the rising day,

And roamed o'er Vindhya, where the breeze

Is odorous of sandal trees.

Still in my fear I found no rest:

I sought the regions of the west,

And gazed on Asta,  3 where the sun

p. 380

Sinks when his daily course is run

Then from that noblest hill I fled

And to the northern country sped,

Saw Himavánt 1 and Meru'Meru'sp,

And stood beside the northern deep.

But when, by Báli's might oppressed,

E'en in those wilds I could not rest,

Came Hanumánwise and brave,

And thus his prudent counsel gave:

'I told thee how Matanga  2 cursed

Thy tyrant, that his head should burst

In pieces, should be dare invade

The precincts of that tranquil shade.

There may we dwell in peace and be

From thy oppressor's malice free.'

We went to Rishyamúka's,

And spent our days secure from ill

Where, with that curse upon his head,

The cruel Báli durst not tread.'

Footnotes

379:1 Canto IX.

379:2 Udayagiri or the hill from which the sun rises.

379:3 Asta is the mountain behind which the sun sets.

CANTO XLVII.: THE RETURN.

Thus forth in quest of Sitá

The legions King Sugríva.

To many a distant town they hied

By many a lake and river's side.

As their great sovereign's order taught,

Through valleys, plains, and groves they sought.

They toiled unresting through the day:

At night upon the ground they lay

Where the tall trees, whose branches swayed

Beneath their fruit, gave pleasant shade.

Then, when a weary month was spent,

Back to Prasravan's hill they went,

And stood with faces of despair

Before their king Sugrívae.

Thus, having wandered through the east,

Great Vinata his labours ceased,

And weary of the fruitless pain

Returned to meet the king again,

Brave S'atabali to the north

Had led his Vánarons forth.

Now to Sugríva he sped

With all his host dispirited.

Sushen the western realms had sought.

And homeward now his legions brought.

All to Sugriva came, where still

He sat with Ráma on the hill.

Before their sovereign humbly bent

And thus addressed him reverent:

'On every hill our steps have been,

By wood and cave and deep ravine;

And all the wandering brooks we know

throughout the land that seaward flow,

Our feet by thy command have traced

the tangled thicket and the waste,

and dens and dingles hard to pass

for creeping plants and matted grass

Well have we searched with toil and pain,

And monstrous creatures have we slain

But Hanumánoblest mind

The Maithil lady yet will find;

For to his quarter of the sky  1b

The robber fiend was seen to fly,'

CANTO XLVIII.: THE ASUR'S DEATH.

But Hanumánl onward pressed

With Tára, Angad, and the rest,

Through Vindhya's pathless glens he sped

And left no spot unvisited.

He gazed from every mountain height,

He sought each cavern dark as night,

And wandered through the bloomy shade

By pool and river and cascade,

But, though they sought in every place,

Of Sitáthey found no trace.

On fruit and woodland berries fed

Through many a lonely wild they sped,

And reached at last, untouched by fear,

A desert terrible and drear:

A fruitless waste, a land of gloom

Where trees were bare of leaf and bloom

Where every scanty stream was dried,

And niggard earth her roots denied.

No elephants through all the ground,

No buffaloes or deer are found.

There roams no tiger, pard, or bear,

No creature of the wood is there.

No bird displays his glittering wings,

No tree, no shrub, no creeper springs.

There rise no lilies from the flood,

Resplendent with their flower and bud,

Where the delighted bees may throng

About the fragrance with their song.

There lived a hermit Kandu named,

For truth and wealth of penance famed.

Whom fervent zeal and holy rite

Had dowered with all-surpassing might.

His little son, a ten year child--

So chanced it--perished in the wild.

His death with fury stirred the sage,

Who cursed the forest in his rage,

Doomed from that hour to shelter none,

A waste for bird and beast to shun.

p. 381

They searched by every forest edge,

They searched each cave and mountain ledge,

And thickets whence the water fell

Wandering through the tangled dell.

Striving to do Sugríva's

They roamed along each leafy rill.

But vain were all endeavours, vain

The careful search, the toil and pain.

Through one dark grove they scarce could wind,

So thick were creepers intertwined.

There as they struggled through the wood

Before their eyes an Asur  1 stood.

High as a towering hill, his pride

The very Gods in heaven defied.

When on the fiend their glances fell

Each braced him for the combat well.

The demon raised his arm on high,

And rushed upon them with a cry.

Him Angad smote,--for, sure, he thought

This was the fiend they long had sought.

From his huge mouth by Angad felled,

The blood in rushing torrents welled,

As, like a mountain from his base

Uptorn, he dropped upon his face.

Thus fell the mighty fiend: and they

Through the thick wood pursued their way;

Then, weary with the toil, reclined

Where leafy boughs to shade them twined.

Footnotes

380:1b Hanumánthe leader of the army of the south which was under the nominal command of Angad the heir apparent.

CANTO XLIX.: ANGAD'S SPEECH.

Then Angad spake: 'We Vánars

Have searched each valley, cave, and dell,

And hill, and brook, and dark recess,

And tangled wood, and wilderness.

But all in vain: no eye has seen

The robber or the Maithil queen.

A dreary time has passed away,

And stern is he we all obey.

Come, cast your grief and sloth aside:

Again be every effort tried;

So haply may our toil attain

The sweet success that follows pain.

Laborious effort, toil, and skill,

The firm resolve, the constant will

Secure at last the ends we seek:

Hence, O my friends, I boldly speak.

Once more then, noble hearts, once more

Let us to-day this wood explore,

And, languor and despair subdued,

Purchase success with toil renewed.

Sugríva king austere,

And Ráma's wrath we needs must fear.

Come, Vánarsye think it wise,

And do the thing that I advise'

   Then Gandhamádan replied

With lips that toil and thirst had dried;

'Obey his words, for wise and true

Is all that he has counselled you.

Come, let your hosts their toil renew

And search each grove and desert through,

Each towering hill and forest glade.

By lake and brook and white cascade,

Till every spot, as our great lord

Commanded, be again explored.'

   Uprose the Vánarsand all,

Obedient to the chieftain's call,

And over the southern region sped

Where Vindhya's tangled forests spread.

They clomb that hill that towers on high

Like a huge cloud in autumn's sky,

Where many a cavern yawns, and streaks

Of radiant silver deck the peaks.

In eager search they wandered through

The forests where the Lodh trees grew,

Where the dark leaves were thick and green,

But found not Ráma's darling queen.

Then faint with toil, their hearts depressed,

Descending from the mountain's crest,

Their weary limbs a while to ease

They lay beneath the spreading trees.

Footnotes

381:1 The Bengal recension--Corrosions edition-- calls this Asur or demon the son of Márícha

CANTO L.: THE ENCHANTED CAVE.

Angad and Tára by his side,

Again rose Hanumántried

Each mountain cavern, dark and deep,

And stony pass and wooded steep,

The lion's and the tiger's home,

By rushing torrents white with foam.

Then with new ardour, south and west,

O'er Vindhya's height the search they pressed.

The day prescribed was near and they

Still wandered on their weary way.

They reached the southern land beset

With woody mountains like a net.

At length a mighty cave they spied

That opened in a mountain's side.

Where many a verdant creeper grew

And o'er the mouth its tendrils threw.

Thence issued crane, and swan, and drake,

And trooping birds that love the lake.

The Vánarsed within to cool

Their fevered lips in spring or pool.

Vast was the cavern dark and dread,

Where not a ray of light was shed;

Yet not the more their eyesight failed,

p. 382

Their courage sank or valour quailed.

On through the gloom the Vánarssed

With hunger, thirst, and toil distressed,

Poor helpless wanderers, sad, forlorn,

With wasted faces wan and worn.

At length, when life seemed lost for aye,

They saw a splendour as of day,

A wondrous forest, fair and bright,

Where golden trees shot flamy light.

And lotus-covered pools were there

With pleasant waters fresh and fair,

And streams their rippling currents rolled

By seats of silver and of gold.

Fair houses reared their stately height

Of burnished gold and lazulite,

And glorious was the lustre thrown

Through lattices of precious stone.

And there were flowers and fruit on stems

Of coral decked with rarest gems,

And emerald leaves on silver trees,

And honeycomb and golden bees.

Then as the Vánarser drew,

A holy woman met their view.

Around her form was duly tied

A garment of the blackdeer's hide. 1

Pure votaress she shone with light

Of fervent zeal and holy rite.

Then Hanumánre the rest

With reverent words the dame addressed:

'Who art thou? say: and who is lord

Of this vast cave with treasures stored?'

CANTO LI.: SVAYAMPRABHÁ

'Assailed by thirst and hunger, dame,

Within a gloomy vault we came.

We saw the cavern opening wide,

And straight within its depths we hied.

But utterly amazed are we

At all the marvels that we see.

Whose are the golden trees that gleam

With splendour like the morning's beam?

These cates of noblest sort? these roots?

This wondrous store of rarest fruits?

Whose are these calm and cool retreats,

These silver homes and golden seats,

And lattices of precious stones?

Who is the happy lord that owns

The golden trees, of rarest scent,

Neath loads of fruit and blossom bent?

Who, strong in holy zeal, had power

To deck the streams with richest dower,

And bade the lilies bright with gold

The glory of their blooms unfold,

Where fish in living gold below

The sheen of changing colours show?

Thine is the holy power, I ween,

That beautified the wondrous scene;

But if another's, lady, deign

To tell us, and the whole explain.'

To him the lady of the cave

In words like, these her answer gave:

'Skilled Maya framed in days of old

This magic wood of growing gold.

The chief artificer in place

Was he of all the Dánav.

He, for his wise enchantments famed,

This glorious dwelling planned and framed

He for a thousand years endured

The sternest penance, and secured

From Brahmá of all boons the best,

The knowledge Us'anas  1b possessed.

Lord, by that boon, of all his will,

He fashioned all with perfect skill;

And, with his blissful state content,

In this vast grove a season spent.

By Indra's jealous bolt he fell

For loving Hemá's 2b charms too well.

And Brahmá on that nymph bestowed

The treasures of this fair abode,

Wherein her tranquil days to spend

In happiness that ne'er may end.

Sprung of a lineage old and high,

Merusávarni's  3b daughter, I

Guard ever for that heavenly dame

This home, Svayamprabhát 4b my name,-

For I have loved the lady long,

So skilled in arts of dance and song.

But say what cause your steps has led

The mazes of this grove to tread.

p. 383

How, strangers did ye chance to spy

The wood concealed from wanderer's eye?

Tell clearly why ye come: but first

Eat of this fruit and quench your thirst.'

---

Footnotes

382:1 The skin of the black antelope was the ascetic's proper garb.

382:1b Us'anas is the name of a sage mentioned in the Vedas. In the epic poems he is identified with S'ukra, the regent of the planet Venus, and described as the preceptor of the Asuras or Daityas, and possessor of vast knowledge.

382:2b Hemáne of the nymphs of Paradise.

382:3b Merusávarni general name for the last four of the fourteen Manus.

382:4b Svayamprabhá "self-luminous" is according to DE GUBERNATIS the moon: "In the Svayamprabhátoo, we meet with the moon as a good fairy who, from the golden palace which she reserves for her friend Hemá golden one:) is during a month the guide, in the vast cavern of Hanumant and his companions, who have lost their way in the search of the dawn Sitáis is not quite accurate: HanumHanumán and his companions wander for a month in the cavern without a guide, and then Svayamprabhás them out.

CANTO LII.: THE EXIT.

'Ráma,' he cried, 'a prince whose sway

All peoples of the earth obey,

To Dandak's tangled forest came

With his brave brother and his dame.

From that dark shade of forest boughs

The giant Rávan stole his spouse.

Our king Sugríva's orders send

These Vánars forth to aid his friend,

That so the lady be restored

Uninjured to her sorrowing lord.

With Angad and the rest, this band

Has wandered through the southern land,

With careful search in every place

The lady and the fiend to trace

We roamed the southern region o'er,

And stood upon the ocean's shore.

By hunger pressed our strength gave way;

Beneath the spreading trees we lay,

And cried, worn out with toil and woe,

'No farther, comrades, can we go.'

Then as our sad eyes looked around

We spied an opening in the ground,

Where all was gloomy dark behind

The creeping plants that o'er it twined.

Forth trooping from the dark-recess

Came swans and mallards numberless,

With drops upon their shining wings

As newly bathed where water springs.

'On, comrades, to the cave,' I cried

And all within the portal hied.

Each clasping fast another's hand

Far onward pressed the Vánar band;

And still, as thirst and hunger drove,

We traced the mazes of the grove.

Here thou with hospitable care

Hast fed us with the noblest fare,

Preserving us, about to die,

With this thy plentiful supply.

But how, O pious lady, say,

May we thy gracious boon repay?'

   He ceased: the ascetic dame replied:

'Well, Vánars, am I satisfied.

A life of holy works I lead,

And from your hands no service need.'

Then spake again the Vánar chief:

'We came to thee and found relief.

Now listen to a new distress,

And aid us, holy votaress.

Our wanderings in this vasty cave

Exhaust the time Sugríva gave.

Once more then, lady, grant release,

And let thy suppliants go in peace

Again upon their errand sped,

For King Sugríva's ire we dread.

And the great task our sovereign set,

Alas, is unaccomplished yet.'

   Thus Hanumán their leader prayed,

And thus the dame her answer made:

Scarce may the living find their way

Returning hence to light of day;

But I will free you through the might

Of penance, fast, and holy rite.

Close for a while your eyes, or ne'er

May you return to upper air.'

She ceased: the Vánars all obeyed;

Their fingers on their eyes they laid,

And, ere a moment's time had fled,

Were through the mazy cavern led.

Again the gracious lady spoke,

And joy in every bosom woke:

'Lo, here again is Vindhya's hill,

Whose valleys trees and creepers fill;

And, by the margin of the sea,

Prasravan where you fain would be.'

With blessings then she bade adieu,

And swift within the cave withdrew.

CANTO LIII.: ANGAD'S COUNSEL.

They looked upon the boundless main

The awful seat of Varun's reign.

And heard his waters roar and rave

Terrific with each crested wave.

Then, in the depths of sorrow drowned,

They sat upon the bosky ground,

And sadly, as they pondered, grieved

For days gone by and naught achieved.

Pain pierced them through with sharper sting

When, gazing on the trees of spring,

They saw each waving bough that showed

The treasures of its glorious load,

And helpless, fainting with the weight

Of woe they sank disconsolate.

Then, lion-shouldered, stout and strong,

The noblest of the Vánar throng,

Angad the prince imperial rose,

And, deeply stricken by the woes

That his impetuous spirit broke,

Thus gently to the chieftains spoke:

'Mark ye not, Vánars, that the day

Our monarch fixed has passed away?

The month is lost in toil and pain,

And now, my friends, what hopes remain?

On you, in lore of counsel tried,

Our king Sugríva most relied.

Your hearts, with strong affection fraught,

p. 384

His weal in every labour sought,

And the true valour of your band

Was blazoned wide in every land.

Forth on the toilsome search you sped,

By me--for so he willed it--led.

To us, of every hope bereft,

Death is the only refuge left.

For none a happy life may see

Who fails to do our king's decree.

Come, let us all from food abstain,

And perish thus, since hope is vain.

Stern is our king and swift to ire,

Imperious, proud, and fierce like fire,

And ne'er will pardon us the crime

Of fruitless search and wasted time.

Far better thus to end our lives,

And leave our wealth, our homes and wives,

Leave our dear little ones and all,

Than by his vengeful hand to fall.

Think not Sugríva's wrath will spare

Me Báli's son, imperial heir:

For Raghu's royal son, not he,

To this high place anointed me,

Sugríva, long my bitter foe,

With eager hand will strike the blow,

And, mindful of the old offence,

Will slay me now for negligence,

Nor will my pitying friends have power

To save me in the deadly hour.

No--here, O chieftains, will I lie

By ocean's marge, and fast and die.'

   They heard the royal prince declare

The purpose of his fixt despair;

And all, by common terror moved,

His speech in these sad words approved:

'Sugríva's heart is hard and stern,

And Ráma's thoughts for Sítá yearn.

Our forfeit lives will surely pay

For idle search and long delay,

And our fierce king will bid us die

The favour of his friend to buy.'

   Then Tára softly spake to cheer

The Vánars' hearts oppressed by fear:

'Despair no more, your doubts dispel:

Come in this ample cavern dwell.

There may we live in blissful ease

Mid springs and fruit and bloomy trees,

Secure from every foe's assault,

For magic framed the wondrous vault.

Protected there we need not fear

Though Ráma and our king come near;

Nor dread e'en him who batters down

The portals of the foeman's town.'  1

Footnotes

384:1 Purandara, the destroyer of cities; the cities being the clouds which the God of the firmament bursts open with his thunderbolts, to release the waters imprisoned in these fortesses of the demons of drought.

CANTO LIV.: HANUMÁN'S SPEECH.

But Hanumán, while Tára, best

Of splendid chiefs his thought expressed,

Perceived that Báli's princely son

A kingdom for himself had won.  1b

His keen eye marked in him combined

The warrior's arm, the ruler's mind,

And every noble gift should grace

The happy sovereign of his race:

Marked how he grew with ripening age

More glorious and bold and sage,--

Like the young moon that night by night

Shines on with ever waxing light,--

Brave as his royal father, wise

As he who counsels in the skies:  2b

Marked how, forwearied with the quest,

He heeded not his liege's hest,

But Tára's every word obeyed

Like Indra still by Sukra  3b swayed.

Then with his prudent speech he tried

To better thoughts the prince to guide,

And by division's skilful art

The Vánars and the youth to part:

'Illustrious Angad, thou in fight

Hast far surpassed thy father's might,

Most worthy, like thy sire of old,

The empire of our race to hold.

The Vánars' fickle people range

From wish to wish and welcome change.

Their wives and babes they will not leave

And to their new-made sovereign cleave.

No art, no gifts will draw away

The Vánars from Sugríva's sway,

Through hope of wealth, through fear of pain

Still faithful will they all remain.

Thou fondly hopest in this cave

The vengeance of the foe to brave.

But Lakshman's arm a shower will send

Of deadly shafts those walls to rend.

Like Indra's bolts his shafts have power

To cleave the mountain like a flower.

O Angad, mark my counsel well:

If in this cave thou choose to dwell,

p. 385

Footnotes

384:1b Perceived that Angad had secured, through the love of the Vánars, the reversion of Sugríva's kingdom; or, as another commentator explains it, perceived that Angad had obtained a new kingdom in the enchanted cave which the Vánars, through love of him, would consent to occupy.

384:2b Váchaspati, Lord of Speech, the Preceptor of the Gods.

384:3b Sukra is the regent of the planet Venus, and the preceptor of the Daítyas.

CANTO LVI:

These Vánar hosts with one accord

Will quit thee for their lawful lord,

And turn again with thirsty eyes

To wife and babe and all they prize.

Thou in the lonely cavern left

Of followers and friends bereft,

Wilt be in all thy woe, alas,

Weak as a blade of trembling grass:

And Lakshman's arrows, keen and fierce

From his strong bow, thy heart will pierce.

But if in lowly reverence meek

Sugríva's court with us thou seek,

He, as thy birth demands, will share

The kingdom with the royal heir.

Thy loving kinsman, true and wise,

Looks on thee still with favouring eyes.

Firm in his promise, pure is he,

And ne'er will vex or injure thee.

He loves thy mother, lives for her

A faithful friend and worshipper.

That mother's love thou mayst not spurn:

Her only child, return, return.'

CANTO LV.: ANGAD'S REPLY

'What truth or justice canst thou find,'

Cried Angad, 'in Sugríva's mind ?

Where is his high and generous soul,

His purity and self-control?

How is he worthy of our trust,

Righteous, and true, and wise, and just,

Who, shrinking not from sin and shame,

Durst take his living brother's dame?

Who, when, in stress of mortal strife

His noble brother fought for life,

Against the valiant warrior barred

The portal which he stood to guard?

Can he be grateful--he who took

The hand of Ráma, and forsook

That friend who saved him in his woes,

To whom his life and fame he owes?

Ah no! his heart is cold and mean,

What bids him search for Ráma's queen?

Not honour's law, not friendship's debt,

But angry Lakshman's timely threat.

No prudent heart will ever place

Its trust in one so false and base,

Who heeds not friendship, kith or kin,

Who scorns the law and cleaves to sin.

But true or false, whate'er he be,

One consequence I clearly see;

Me, in my youth anointed heir

Against his wish, he will not spare,

But strike with eager hand the blow

That rids him of a household foe.

Shall I of power and friends despoiled,

In all my purpose crossed and foiled,--

Shall I Kishkindhá seek, and wait,

Like some poor helpless thing, my fate?

The cruel wretch through lust of sway

Will seize upon his hapless prey,

And to a prison's secret gloom

The remnant of my years will doom.

'Tis better far to fast and die

Than hopeless bound in chains to lie,

Your steps, O Vánars, homeward bend

And leave me here my life to end.

Better to die of hunger here

Than meet at home the fate I fear

Go, bow you at Sugríva's feet,

And in my name the monarch greet.

Before the sons of Raghu bend,

And give the greeting that I send

Greet kindly Rumá too, for she

A son's affection claims from me,

And gently calm with friendly care

My mother Tárá's wild despair;

Or when she hears her darling's fate

The queen will die disconsolate.'

   Thus Angad bade the chiefs adieu:

Then on the ground his limbs he threw

Where sacred Darbha  1 grass was spread,

And wept as every hope had fled.

The moving words of Augad drew

Down aged cheeks the piteous dew.

And, as the chieftains' eyes grew dim,

They swore to stay and die with him.

On holy grass whose every blade

Was duly, pointing southward, laid,

The Vánars sat them down and bent

Their faces to the orient,

While 'Here, O comrades, let us die

With Angad,' was the general cry.

CANTO LVI.: SAMPÁTI.

Then came the vultures' mighty king

Where sat the Vánars sorrowing,--

Sampáti,  2 best of birds that fly

On sounding pinions through the sky,

Jatáyus' brother, famed of old,

Most glorious and strong and bold.

Upon the slope of Vindhya's hill

He saw the Vánars calm and still.

p. 386

These words he uttered while the sight

Filled his fierce spirit with delight:

'Behold how Fate with changeless laws

Within his toils the sinner draws,

And brings me, after long delay,

A rich and noble feast to-day,

These Vánars who are doomed to die

My hungry maw to satisfy.'

   He spoke no more: and Angad heard

The menace of the mighty bird;

And thus, while anguish filled his breast,

The noble Hanumán addressed:

'Vivasvat's  1 son has sought this place

For vengeance on the Vánar race.

See, Yama, wroth for Sítá's sake,

Is come our guilty lives to take.

Our king's decree is left undone,

And naught achieved for Raghu's son.

In duty have we failed, and hence

Comes punishment for dire offence.

Have we not heard the marvels wrought

By King Jatáyus,  2 how he fought

With Rávan's might, and, nobly brave,

Perished, the Maithil queen to save?

There is no living creature, none,

But loves to die for Raghu's son,

And in long toils and dangers we

Have placed our lives in jeopardy

Blest is Jatáyus, he who gave

His life the Maithil queen to save,

And proved his love for Ráma well

When by the giant's hand he fell

Now raised to bliss and high renown

He fears not fierce Sugríva's frown.

Alas, alas! what miseries spring

From that rash promise of the king!  3

His own sad death, and Ráma sent

With Lakshman forth to banishment:

The Maithil lady borne away:

Jatáyus slain in mortal fray:

The fall of Báli when the dart

Of Ráma quivered in his heart:

And, after toil and pain and care,

Our misery and deep despair.'

   He ceased: the feathered monarch heard,

His heart with ruth and wonder stirred:

'Whose is that voice,' the vulture cried,

'That tells me how Jatáyus died,

And shakes my inmost soul with woe

For a loved brother's overthrow?

After long days at length I hear

The glorious name of one so dear.

Once more, O Vánar chieftains, tell

How King Jatáyus fought and fell.

But first your aid, I pray you, lend,

And from this peak will I descend.

The sun has burnt my wings, and I

No longer have the power to fly.'

Footnotes

385:1 The name of various kinds of grass used at sacrificial ceremonies, especially, of the Ku'sa grass, Poa cynosuroides, which was used to strew the ground in preparing for a sacrifice, the officiating Brahmans being purified by sittihg on it.

385:2 Sampáti is the eldest son of the celebrated Garuda the king of birds.

386:1 Vivasvat or the Sun is the father of Yama the God of Death.

386:2 Book III. Canto LI.

386:3 Das'aratha's rash oath and fatal promise to his wife Kaikeyí.

CANTO LVII.: ANGAD'S SPEECH.

Though grief and woe his utterance broke

They trusted not the words he spoke;

But, looking still for secret guile,

Reflected in their hearts a while:

'If on our mangled limbs he feed,

We gain the death ourselves decreed.'

   Then rose the Vánar chiefs, and lent

Their arms to aid the bird's descent;

And Angad spake: There lived of yore

A noble Vánar king who bore

The name of Riksharajas, great

And brave and strong and fortunate.

His sons were like their father: fame

Knows Báli and Sugríva's name.

Praised in all lands, a glorious king

Was Báli, and from him I spring.

Brave Ráma, Das'aratha's heir,

A glorious prince beyond compare,

His sire and duty's law obeyed,

And sought the depths of Dandaks' shade

Sítá his well-beloved dame,

And Lakshman, with the wanderer came.

A giant watched his hour, and stole

The sweet delight of Ráma's soul.

Jatáyus, Das'aratha's friend,

Swift succour to the dame would lend.

Fierce Rávan from his car he felled,

And for a time the prize withheld.

But bleeding, weak with years, and tired,

Beneath the demon's blows expired,

Due rites at Ráma's hands obtained,

And bliss that ne'er shall minish, gained.

Then Ráma with Sugríva made

A covenant for mutual aid,

And Báli, to the field defied,

By conquering Ráma's arrow died.

Sugríva then, by Ráma's grace,

Was monarch of the Vánar race.

By his command a mighty host

Seeks Ráma's queen from coast to coast.

Sent forth by him, in every spot

We looked for her, but find her not.

Vain is the toil, as though by night

We sought to find the Day-God's light.

In lands unknown at length we found

A spacious cavern under ground,

Whose vaults that stretch beneath the hill

Were formed by Maya's magic skill.

Through the dark maze our steps were bent,

And wandering there a month we spent,

p. 387

And lost, in fruitless error, thus

The days our king allotted us.

Thus we though faithful have transgressed,

And failed to keep our lord's behest.

No chance of safety can we see,

No lingering hope of life have we.

Sugriva's wrath and Ráma's hate

Press on our souls with grievous weight;

And we, because 'tis vain to fly,

Resolve at length to fast and die.'

CANTO LVIII: TIDINGS OF SITÁ.

The piteous tears his eye bedewed

As thus his speech the bird renewed;

'Alas my brother, slain in fight

By Rávan's unresisted might!

I, old and wingless, weak and worn,

O'er his sad fate can only mourn.

Fled is my youth: in life's decline

My former strength no more is mine.

Once on the day when Vritra 1 died,

We brothers, in ambitious pride,

Sought, mounting with adventurous flight,

The Day-God garlanded with light.

On, ever on we urged our way

Where fields of ether round us lay,

Till, by the fervent heat assailed,

My brother's pinions flagged and failed.

I marked his sinking strength, and spread

My stronger wings to screen his head,

Till, all my feathers burnt away,

On Vindhya's hill I fell and lay.

There in my lone and helpless state

I heard not of my brother's fate.'

   Thus King Sampáti spoke and sighed:

And royal Angad thus replied:

'If, brother of Jatáyus, thou

Hast heard the tale I told but now,

Obedient to mine earnest prayer

The dwelling of that fiend declare.

O, say where cursed Rávan dwells,

Whom folly to his death impels.'

   He ceased. Again Sampáti spoke,

And hope in every breast awoke:

'Though lost my wings, and strength decayed,

Yet shall my words lend Ráma aid.

I know the worlds where Vishnu trod, 1b

I know the realm of Ocean's God;

How Asurs fought with heavenly foes,

And Amrit from the churning rose. 2b

A mighty task before me lies,

To prosper Ráma's enterprise,

A task too hard for one whom length

Of days has rifled of his strength.

I saw the cruel Rávan bear

A gentle lady through the air.

Bright washer form, and fresh and young,

And sparkling gems about her hung.

'O Ráma, Ráma!' cried the dame,

And shrieked in terror Lakshman's name,

As, struggling in the giant's hold,

She dropped her gauds of gems and gold.

Like sun-light on a mountain shone

The silken garments she had on,

And glistened o'er his swarthy form

As lightning flashes through the storm.

That giant Rávan, famed of old,

Is brother of the Lord of Gold. 3b

The southern ocean roars and swells

Round Lanká, where the robber dwells

In his fair city nobly planned

And built by Vis'vakarmá's 4b hand.

Within his bower securely barred,

With monsters round her for a guard,

Still in her silken vesture clad

Lies Sitá, and her heart is sad.

A hundred leagues your course must be

Beyond this margin of the sea.

Still to the south your way pursue,

And there the giant Rávan view.

Then up, O Vánars, and away!

For by my heavenly lore I say,

There will you see the lady's face.

And hither soon your steps retrace.

In the first field of air are borne

The doves and birds that feed on corn.

The second field supports the crows

And birds whose food on branches grows.

Along the third in balanced flight

Sail the keen osprey and the kite.

Swift through the fourth the falcon springs

The fifth the slower vulture wings.

Up to the sixth the gay swans rise,

p. 388

Where royal Vainateya  1 flies.

We too, O chiefs, of vulture race,

Our line from Vinatá may trace,

Condemned, because we wrought a deed

Of shame, on flesh and blood to feed.

But all Suparna's  2 wondrous powers

And length of keenest sight are ours,

That we a hundred leagues away

Through fields of air descry our prey.

Now from this spot my gazing eye

Can Rávan and the dame descry.

Devise some plan to overleap

This barrier of the briny deep.

Find the Videhan lady there,

And joyous to your home repair.

Me too, O Vánars. to the side

Of Varun's  3 home the ocean, guide,

Where due libations shall be paid

To my great-hearted brother's shade.'

Footnotes

387:1 Vritra, 'the coverer, hider, obstructer (of rain)' is the name of the Vedic personification of an imaginary malignant influence or demon of darkness and drought supposed to take possession of the clouds, causing them to obstruct the clearness of the sky and keep back the waters. Indra is represented as battling with this evil influence, and the pent-up clouds being practically represented as mountains or castles are shattered by his thunderbolt and made to open their receptacle.

387:1b Frequent mention has been made of the three steps of Vishnu typifying the rising, culmination, and setting of the sun.

387:2b For the Churning of the Sea, see Book I, Canto XLV.

387:3b Kuvera, the God of Wealth.

387:4b The Architect of the Gods.

CANTO LIX.: SAMPATI'S STORY.

They heard his counsel to the close,

Then swiftly to their feet they rose;

And Jambavan with joyous breast

The vulture king again addressed:

  "Where, where is Sítá? who has seen,

Who borne away the Maithil queen?

Who would the lightning flight withstand

Of arrows shot by Lakshman's hand"

  Again Sampáti spoke to cheer

The Vánars as they bent to hear:

'Now listen, and my words shall show

What of the Maithil dame I know,

And in what distant prison lies

The lady of the long dark eyes.

Scorched by the fiery God of Day,

High on this mighty hill I lay.

A long and weary time had passed,

And strength and life were failing fast.

Yet, ere the breath had left my frame,

My son, my dear Supárs'va, came.

Each morn and eve he brought me food,

And filial care my life renewed.

But serpents still are swift to ire.

Gandbarvas slaves to soft desire.

And we, imperial vultures, need

A full supply our maws to feed.

Once he turned at close of day,

Stood by my side, but brought no prey.

He looked upon my ravenous eye,

Heard my complaint and made reply:

  'Borne on swift wings ere day was light

I stood upon Mahendra's  1b height,

And, far below, the sea I viewed

And birds in countless multitude.

Before mine eyes a giant flew

Whose monstrous form was dark of hue

And struggling in his grasp was borne

A lady radiant as the morn.

Swift to the south his course he bent,

And cleft the yielding element.

The holy spirits of the air

Came round me as I marvelled there,

And cried as their bright legions met:

'O say, is Sítá living yet?'

Thus cried the saints and told the name

Of him who held the struggling dame.

Then while mine eye with eager look

Pursued the path the robber took,

I marked the lady's streaming hair,

And heard her cry of wild despair.

I saw her silken vesture rent

And stripped of every ornament,

Thus, O my father, fled the time:

Forgive, I pray, the heedless crime.'

In vain the mournful tale I heard

My pitying heart to fury stirred.

What could a helpless bird of air,

Reft of his boasted pinions, dare?

Yet can I aid with all that will

And words can do, and friendly skill.'

Footnotes

388:1 Garuda, son of Vinatá, the sovereign of the birds.

388:2 "The well winged one," Garuda.

388:3 The God of the sea.

CANTO LX.: SAMPÁTI'S STORY

Then from the flood Sampáti paid

Due offerings to his brother's shade.

He bathed him when the rites were done.

And spake again to Báli's son:

'Now listen, Prince, while I relate

How first I learned the lady's fate.

Burnt by the sun's resistless might

I fell and lay on Vindhya's height.

Seven nights in deadly swoon I passed,

But struggling life returned at last.

Around I bent my wondering view,

But every spot was strange and new.

I scanned the sea with eager ken,

And rock and brook and lake and glen,

I saw gay trees their branches wave,

And creepers mantling o'er the cave.

I heard the wild birds' joyous song,

And waters as they foamed along,

And knew the lovely hill must be

Mount Vindhya by the southern sea.

p. 389

Revered by heavenly beings, stood

Near where I lay, a sacred wood,

Where great Nis'akar dwelt of yore

And pains of awful penance bore.

Eight thousand seasons winged their flight

Over the toiling anchorite--

Upon that hill my days were spent,--

And then to heaven the hermit went.

At last, with long and hard assay,

Down from that height I made my way,

And wandered through the mountain pass

Rough with the spikes of Darbha grass.

I with my misery worn, and faint

Was eager to behold the saint:

For often with Jatáyus I

Had sought his home in days gone by.

As nearer to the grove I drew

The breeze with cooling fragrance blew,

And not a tree that was not fair,

With richest flower and fruit was there.

With anxious heart a while I stayed

Beneath the trees' delightful shade,

Aud soon the holy hermit, bright

With fervent penance, came in sight.

Behind him bears and lions, tame

As those who know their feeder, came,

And tigers, deer, and snakes pursued

His steps, a wondrous multitude,

And turned obeisant when the sage

Had reached his shady hermitage.

Then came Nis'ákar to my side

And looked with wondering eyes, and cried:

'I knew thee not, so dire a change

Has made thy form and feature strange.

Where are thy glossy feathers? where

The rapid wings that cleft the air?

Two vulture brothers once I knew:

Each form at will could they endue.

They of the vulture race were kings,

And flew with Mátaris'va's  1 wings.

In human shape they loved to greet

Their hermit friend, and clasp his feet,

The younger was Jatáyus, thou

The elder whom I gaze on now.

Say, has disease or foeman's hate

Reduced thee from thy high estate?

\

Footnotes

388:1b Mahendra is chain of mountains generally identified with part of the Gháts of the Peninsula

CANTO LXI.: SAMPÁTI'S STORY.

'Ah me I o'erwhelmed with shame and weak

With wounds,' I cried, 'I scarce can speak.

My hapless brother once and I

Our strength of flight resolved to try.

And by our foolish pride impelled

Our way through realms of ether held.

We vowed before the saints who tread

The wilds about Kailása's head,

That we with following wings would chase

The swift sun to his resting place.

Up on our soaring pinions through

The fields of cloudless air we flew.

Beneath us far, and far away,

Like chariot wheels bright cities lay,

Whence in wild snatches rose the song

Of women mid the gay-clad throng,

With sounds of sweetest music blent

And many a tinkling ornament.

Then as our rapid wings we strained

The pathway of the sun we gained,

Beneath us all the earth was seen

Clad in her garb of tender green,

And every river in her bed

Meandered like a silver thread.

We looked on Meru far below.

And Vindhya and the Lord of Snow,

Like elephants that bend to cool

Their fever in a lilied pool.

But fervent heat and toil o'ercame

The vigour of each yielding frame,

Our weary hearts began to quail,

And wildered sense to reel and fail.

We knew not, fainting and distressed,

The north or south or east or west.

With a great strain mine eyes I turned

Where the fierce sun before me burned,

And seemed to my astonished eyes

The equal of the earth in size.  1b

At length, o'erpowered, Jatáyus fell

Without a word to say farewell,

And when to earth I saw him hie

I followed headlong from the sky.  2b

With sheltering wings I intervened

And from the sun his body screened,

But lost, for heedless folly doomed,

My pinions which the heat consumed.

ln Janasthán, I hear them say,

My hapless brother fell and lay.

I, pinionless and faint and weak,

Dropped upon Vindhya's woody peak.

Now with my swift wings burnt away,

Reft of my brother and my sway.

From this tall mountain's summit I

Will cast me headlong down and die.

p. 390

Footnotes

389:1 Mátarisva is identified with Váyu, the wind.

389:1b Of course not equal to the whole earth, says the Commentator, but equal to Janasthán.

389:2b This appears to be the Indian form of the stories of Phaethon and Daedalus and Icarus.

CANTO LXII.: SAMPÁTI'S STORY.

'As to the saint I thus complained

My bitter tears fell unrestrained.

He pondered for a while, then broke

The silence, and thus calmly spoke:

'Forth from thy sides again shall spring,

O royal bird, each withered wing,

And all thine ancient power and might

Return to thee with strength of sight.

A noble deed has been foretold

In prophecy pronounced of old:

Nor dark to me are future things,

Seen by the light which penance brings.

A glorious king shall rise and reign,

The pride of old Ikshváku's strain.

A good and valiant prince, his heir,

Shall the dear name of Ráma bear.

With his brave brother Lakshman he

An exile in the woods shall be,

Where Rávan, whom no God may slay,  1

Shall steal his darling wife away,

In vain the captive will be wooed

With proffered love and dainty food,

She will not hear, she will not taste:

But, lest her beauty wane and waste,

Lord Indra's self will come to her

With heavenly food, and minister.

Then envoys of the Vánar race

By Ráma sent will seek this place.

To them, O roamer of the air,

The lady's fate shalt thou declare.

Thou must not move--so maimed thou art

Thou canst not from this spot depart.

Await the day and moment due,

And thy burnt wings will sprout anew.

I might this day the boon bestow

And bid again thy pinions grow,

But wait until thy saving deed

The nations from their fear have freed.

Then for this glorious aid of thine

The princes of Ikshváku's line,

And Gods above and saints below

Eternal gratitude shall owe.

Fain would mine aged eyes behold

That pair of whom my lips have told,

Yet wearied here I must not stay,

But leave my frame and pass away.'

CANTO LXIII.: SAMPÁTI'S STORY.

'With this and many a speech beside.

My failing heart he fortified,

With glorious hope my breast inspired,

And to his holy home retired.

I scaled the mountain height, to view

The region round, and looked for you.

In ceaseless watchings night and day

A hundred seasons passed away,

And by the sage's words consoled

I wait the hour and chance foretold.

But since Nis'ákar sought the skies.

And cast away all earthly ties,

Full many a care and doubt has pressed

With grievous weight upon my breast.

But for the saint who turned aside

My purpose I had surely died.

Those hopeful words the hermit spake,

That bid me live for Ráma's sake,

Dispel my anguish as the light

Of lamp and torch disperse the night.'

   He ceased: and in the Vánars' view

Forth from his side young pinions grew,

And boundless rapture filled his breast

As thus the chieftains he addressed:

'Joy, joy! the pinions, which the Lord

Of Day consumed, are now restored

Through the dear grace & boundless might

Of that illustrious anchorite.

The tire of youth within me burns,

And all my wonted strength returns.

Onward, ye Vánars, toil strive,

And you shall find the dame alive.

Look on these new-found wings, and hence

Be strong in surest confidence.'

   Swift from the crag he sprang to try

His pinions in his nativie sky.

His words the chieftains' doubts had stilled?

And every heart with courage filled. 1b

\CANTO LXIV.: THE SEA.

Shouts of triumphant joy outrang

As to their feet the Vánars sprang:

And, on the mighty task intent,

Swift to the sea their steps they bent.

They stood and gazed upon the deep,

Whose billows with a roar and leap

On the sea banks ware wildly hurled,--

The mirror of the mighty world.

There on the strand the Vánars stayed

And with sad eyes the deep surveyed,

Here, as in play, his billows rose,

And there he slumbered in repose.

Here leapt the boisterous waters, high

As mountains, menacing the sky,

And wild infernal forms between

The ridges of the waves were seen.

p. 391

They saw the billows rave and swell,

And their sad spirits sank and fell;

For ocean in their deep despair

Seemed boundless as the fields of air.

Then noble Angad spake to cheer

The Vánars and dispel their fear:

'Faint not: despair should never find

Admittance to a noble mind.

Despair, a serpent's mortal bite,

Benumbs the hero's power and might.'

   Then passed the weary night, and all

Assembled at their prince's call,

And every lord of high estate

Was gathered round him for debate.

Bright was the chieftains' glorious band

Round Angad on the ocean strand,

As when the mighty Storm-Gods meet

Round Indra on his golden seat.

Then princely Angad looked on each,

And thus began his prudent speech:

'What chief of all our host will leap

A hundred leagues across the deep?

Who, O illustrious Vánars, who

Will make Sugriva's promise true,

And from our weight of fear set free

The leaders of our band and me!

To whom, O warriors, shall we owe

A sweet release from pain and woe,

And proud success, and happy lives

With our dear children and our wives,

Again permitted by his grace

To look with joy on Ráma's face,

And noble Lakshman, and our lord

The king, to our sweet homes restored?'

   Thus to the gathered lords he spoke;

But no reply the silence broke.

Then with a sterner voice he cried:

'O chiefs, the nation's boast and pride,

Whom valour strength and power adorn,

Of most illustrious lineage born,

Where'er you wilt you force a way,

And none your rapid course can stay.

Now come, your several powers declare.

And who this desperate leap will dare?

CANTO LXV.: THE COUNCIL.

But none of all the host was found

To clear the sea with desperate bound,

Though each, as Angad bade, declared

His proper power and what he dared.  1

Then spake good Jámbavan the sage,

Chief of them all for reverend age;

'I, Vánar chieftains, long ago

Limbs light to leap could likewise show,

But now on frame and spirit weighs

The burthen of my length of days.

Still task like this I may not slight,

When Ráma and our king unite.

So listen while I tell, O friends,

What lingering strength mine age attends.

If my poor leap may aught avail,

Of ninety leagues, I will not fail.

Far other strength in youth's fresh prime

I boasted, in the olden time,

When, at Prahláda's  1b solemn rite,

I circled in my rapid flight

Lord Vishnu, everlasting God,

When through the universe he trod.

But now my limbs are weak and old,

My youth is fled, its fire is cold,

And these exhausted nerves to strain

In such a task were idle pain,'

   Then Angad due obeisance paid,

And to the chief his answer made:

'Then I, ye noble Vánars, I

Mvself the mighty leap will try:

Although perchance the power I lack

To leap from Lanká's island back'

   Thus the impetuous chieftain cried,

And Jámbavan the sage replied:

'Whate'er thy power and might may be,

This task, O Prince, is not for thee.

Kings go not forth themselves, but send

The servants who their best attend.

Thou art the darling and the boast,

The honoured lord of all the host.

In thee the root, O Angad, lies

Of our appointed enterprise;

And thee, on whom our hopes depend,

Our care must cherish and defend.'

   Then Báli's noble son replied:

'Needs must I go whate'er betide,

*** For, if no chief this exploit dare,

What waits us all save blank despair,--

Upon the ground again to lie

In hopeless misery, fast, and die?

For not a hope of life I see

If we neglect our king's decree*'

Then spoke the aged chief again:

'***Now your attempt shall not be in vain,

For to the task will I incite

A chieftain of sufficient might.'

p. 392

Footnotes

391:1 Each chief comes forward and says how far he can leap. Gaja says he can leap ten yojans. Gavaksha can leap twenty. Gavaya thirty.* and so on up to ninety.

391:1b Prahlá*da, the son of H***iranyakasipu, was a pious Datya remarkable for his devotion to Vishnu, and was on this account persecuted by his father.

CANTO LXVI.: HANUMÁN.

The chieftain turned his glances where

The legions sat in mute despair;

And then to Hanumán, the best

Of Vánar lords, these words addressed:

'Why still, and silent, and apart,

O hero of the dauntless heart?

Thou keepest measured in thy mind

The laws that rule the Vánar kind,

Strong as our king Sugriva, brave

As Ráma's self to slay or save,

Through every land thy praise is heard,

Famous as that illustrious bird,

Arishtanemi's son,  1 the king

Of every fowl that plies the wing.

Oft have I seen the monarch sweep

With sounding pinions o'er the deep,

And in his mighty talons bear

Huge serpents struggling through the air.

Thy arms, O hero, match in might

The ample wings he spreads for flight;

And thou with him mayest well compare

In power to do, in heart to dare.

Why, rich in wisdom, power, and skill,

O hero, mt thou lingering still?

An Apsaras  2 the fairest found

Of nymphs for heavenly charms renowned,

Sweet Punjikasthalá, became

A noble Vánar's wedded dame.

Her heavenly title heard no more,

Anjaná was the name she bore,

When, cursed by Gods, from heaven she fell

In Vánar form on earth to dwell,

New-born in mortal shape the ch*ild

Of Kunjar monarch of the wild.

In youthful beauty wondrous fair,

A crown of jewels about her hair,

In silken robes of richest dye

She roamed the hills that kiss the sky.

Once in her tinted garments dressed

She stood upon the mountain crest,

The God of Wind beside her came,

And breathed upon the lovely dame.

And as he fanned her robe aside

The wondrous beauty that he eyed

In rounded lines of breast and limb

And neck and shoulder ravished him;

And captured by her peerless charms

He strained her in his amorous arms,

Then to the eager God she cried

In trembling accents, terrified:

'Whose impious love has wronged a spouse

So constant in her nuptial vows?'

He heard, and thus his answer made:

'O, be not troubled, nor afraid.

But trust, and thou shalt know ere long

My love has done thee, sweet, no wrong.

So strong and brave and wise shall be

The glorious child I give to thee.

Might shall be his that naught can tire,

And limbs to spring as springs his sire,'

Thus spoke the God; the conquered dame

Rejoiced in heart nor feared me shame.

Down in a cave beneath the earth

The happy mother gave thee birth.

Once o'er the summit of the wood

Before thine eyes the new sun stood.

Thou sprangest up in haste to seize

What seemed the fruitage of the trees.

Up leapt the child, a wondrous bound,

Three hundred leagues above the ground,

And, though the angered Day-God shot

His fierce beams on him, feared him not.

Then from the hand of Indra came

A red bolt winged with wrath and flame.

The child fell smitten on a rock.

His cheek was shattered by the shock,

Named Hanumán  1b thenceforth by all

In memory of the fearful fall,

The wandering Wind-God saw thee lie

With bleeding cheek and drooping eye,

And stirred to anger by thy woe

Forbade each scented breeze to blow.

The breath of all the worlds was stilled,

And the sad Gods with terror filled

Prayed to the Wind, to calm the ire

And soothe the sorrow of the sire.

His fiery wrath no longer glowed,

And Brahmá's self the boon bestowed

That in the brunt of battle none

Should slay with steel the Wind-God's son.

Lord Indra, sovereign of the skies,

Bent on thee all his thousand eyes,

And swore that ne'er the bolt which he

Hurls from the heaven should injure thee,

'Tis thine, O mighty chief, to share

The Wind-God's power, his son and heir.

Sprung from that glorious father thou.

And thou alone, canst aid us now.

This earth of yore, through all her climes,

I circled one-and-twenty times,

And gathered, as the Gods decreed,

Great store of herbs from hill and mead,

Which, scattered o'er the troubled wave.

The Amrit to the toilers gave,

p. 393

But now my days are wellnigh told,

My strength is gone, my limbs are old,

And thou, the bravest and the best,

Art the sure hope of all the rest.

Now, mighty chief, the task assay:

Thy matchless power and strength display

Rise up, O prince, our second king,

And o'er the flood of ocean spring.

So shall the glorious exploit vie

With his who stepped through earth and sky.'  1

He spoke: the younger chieftain heard,

His soul to vigorous effort stirred,

And stood before their joyous eyes

Dilated in gigantic size.

Footnotes

392:1 The Bengal recension calls him Arishtaneimi's brother "The commentator says "Arishtanemi is Aruna." Aruna the charioteer of the sun is the son of Kas'yapa and Vinatá and by consequence brother of Garuda called Vainat*eya from Vinatá his mother," GORRESIO.

392:2 A nymph of Paradise.

392:1b Hanu or Hanú means jaw. Haunmán or Hanúmán means properly one with a large jaw.

CANTO LXVII.: HANUMAN'S SPEECH.

Soon as his stature they beheld.

Their fear and sorrow were dispelled;

And joyous praises loud and long

Rang out from all the Vánar throng.

On the great chief their eyes they bent

In rapture and astonishment,

As, when his conquering foot he raised,

The Gods upon Naráyan  2 gazed.

He stood amid the joyous crowd,

Bent to the chiefs, and cried aloud:

'The Wind-God, Fire's eternal friend.

Whose blasts the mountain summits rend,

With boundless force that none may stay,

Takes where he lists his viewless way,

Sprung from that glorious father, I

In power and speed with him may vie,

A thousand times with airy leap

Can circle loftiest Meru's steep:

With my fierce arms can stir the sea

Till from their bed the waters flee

And rush at my command to drown

This land with grove and tower and town.

I through the fields of air can spring

Far swifter than the feathered King,

And leap before him as he dies.

On sounding pinions through the skies,

I can pursue the Lord of Light

Uprising from the eastern height,

And reach him ere his course be sped

With burning beams engarlanded,

I will dry up the mighty main,

Shatter the rocks and rend the plain.

O'er earth and ocean will I bound,

And every flower that grows on ground,

And bloom of climbing plants shall show

Strewn on the ground, the way I go.

Bright as the lustrous path that lies

Athwart the region of the skies.  1b

The Maithil lady will I find,--

Thus speaks mine own prophetic mind,--

And cast in hideous ruin down

The shattered walls of Lanká's town.'

   Still on the chief in rapt surprise

The Vánar legions bent their eyes,

And thus again sage Jámbaván

Addressed the glorious Hanumán;

'Son of the Wind, thy promise cheers

The Vánars' hearts, and calms their fears,

Who, rescued from their dire distress.

With prospering vows thy way will bless.

The holy saints their favour lend,

And all our chiefs the deed commend

Urging thee forward on thy way;

Arise then, and the task assay.

Thou art our only refuge; we.

Our lives and all, depend on thee.'

   Then sprang the Wind-God's son the best

Of Vánara, on Mahendra's crest.

And the great mountain rocked and swayed

By that unusual weight dismayed,

As reels an elephant beneath

The lion's spring and rending teeth.

The shady wood that crowned him shook,

The trembling birds the boughs forsook,

And ape and pard and lion fled

From brake and lair disquieted.

Footnotes

393:1 Vishnu, the God of the Three Steps.

393:2 Náráyan, 'He who moved upon the waters,' is Vishnu. The allusion is to the famous three steps of that God.

393:1b The Milky Way.

End of Book 4

(My humble salutations to Sreeman Ralph T. H. Griffith for the collection)