The Ramayana Part 10

If thou would do the righteous deed, And win high fame, thy virtue's meed, Fame that on earth shall last and live, To me, great King, thy Rama give.

If to the words that I have said, With Saint Vasish?ha at their head Thy holy men, O King, agree, Then let thy Rama go with me.

Ten nights my sacrifice will last, And ere the stated time be past Those wicked fiends, those impious twain, Must fall by wondrous Rama slain.

Let not the hours, I warn thee, fly, Fixt for the rite, unheeded by; Good luck have thou, O royal Chief, Nor give thy heart to needless grief."

Thus in fair words with virtue fraught The pious glorious saint besought.

But the good speech with poignant sting Pierced ear and bosom of the king, Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear, Fell prostrate and lay fainting there.

Canto XXII. Dasaratha's Speech.

His tortured senses all astray, While the hapless monarch lay, Then slowly gathering thought and strength To Visvamitra spoke at length: "My son is but a child, I ween; This year he will be just sixteen.

How is he fit for such emprise, My darling with the lotus eyes?

A mighty army will I bring That calls me master, lord, and king, And with its countless squadrons fight Against these rovers of the night.

My faithful heroes skilled to wield The arms of war will take the field; Their skill the demons' might may break: Rama, my child, thou must not take.

I, even I, my bow in hand, Will in the van of battle stand, And, while my soul is left alive, With the night-roaming demons strive.

Thy guarded sacrifice shall be Completed, from all hindrance free.

Thither will I my journey make: Rama, my child, thou must not take.

A boy unskilled, he knows not yet The bounds to strength and weakness set.

No match is he for demon foes Who magic arts to arms oppose.

O chief of saints, I have no power, Of Rama reft, to live one hour: Mine aged heart at once would break: Rama, my child, thou must not take.

Nine thousand circling years have fled With all their seasons o'er my head, And as a hard-won boon, O sage, These sons have come to cheer mine age.

My dearest love amid the four Is he whom first his mother bore, Still dearer for his virtues' sake: Rama, my child, thou must not take.

But if, unmoved by all I say, Thou needs must bear my son away, Let me lead with him, I entreat, A four-fold army(144) all complete.

What is the demons' might, O Sage?

Who are they? What their parentage?

What is their size? What beings lend Their power to guard them and befriend?

How can my son their arts withstand?

Or I or all my armed band?

Tell me the whole that I may know To meet in war each evil foe Whom conscious might inspires with pride."

And Visvamitra thus replied: "Sprung from Pulastya's race there came A giant known by Rava?'s name.

Once favoured by the Eternal Sire He plagues the worlds in ceaseless ire, For peerless power and might renowned, By giant bands encompa.s.sed round.

Visravas for his sire they hold, His brother is the Lord of Gold.

King of the giant hosts is he, And worst of all in cruelty.

This Rava?'s dread commands impel Two demons who in might excel, Maricha and Suvahu hight, To trouble and impede the rite."

Then thus the king addressed the sage: "No power have I, my lord, to wage War with this evil-minded foe; Now pity on my darling show, And upon me of hapless fate, For thee as G.o.d I venerate.

G.o.ds, spirits, bards of heavenly birth,(145) The birds of air, the snakes of earth Before the might of Rava? quail, Much less can mortal man avail.

He draws, I hear, from out the breast The valour of the mightiest.

No, ne'er can I with him contend, Or with the forces he may send.

How can I then my darling lend, G.o.dlike, unskilled in battle? No, I will not let my young child go.

Foes of thy rite, those mighty ones, Sunda and Upasunda's sons, Are fierce as Fate to overthrow: I will not let my young child go.

Maricha and Suvahu fell Are valiant and instructed well.

One of the twain I might attack.

With all my friends their lord to back."

Canto XXIII. Vasishtha's Speech.

While thus the hapless monarch spoke, Paternal love his utterance broke.

Then words like these the saint returned, And fury in his bosom burned: "Didst thou, O King, a promise make, And wishest now thy word to break?

A son of Raghu's line should scorn To fail in faith, a man forsworn.

But if thy soul can bear the shame I will return e'en as I came.

Live with thy sons, and joy be thine, False scion of Kakutstha's line."

As Visvamitra, mighty sage, Was moved with this tempestuous rage, Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame, And fear upon the Immortals came.

But Saint Vasish?ha, wisest seer, Observant of his vows austere, Saw the whole world convulsed with dread, And thus unto the monarch said: "Thou, born of old Ikshvaku's seed, Art Justice' self in mortal weed.

Constant and pious, blest by fate, The right thou must not violate.

Thou, Raghu's son, so famous through The triple world as just and true, Perform thy bounden duty still, Nor stain thy race by deed of ill.

If thou have sworn and now refuse Thou must thy store of merit lose.

Then, Monarch, let thy Rama go, Nor fear for him the demon foe.

The fiends shall have no power to hurt Him trained to war or inexpert, Nor vanquish him in battle field, For Kusik's son the youth will s.h.i.+eld.

He is incarnate Justice, he The best of men for bravery.

Embodied love of penance drear, Among the wise without a peer.

Full well he knows, great Kusik's son, The arms celestial, every one, Arms from the G.o.ds themselves concealed, Far less to other men revealed.

These arms to him, when earth he swayed, Mighty Krisasva, pleased, conveyed.

Krisasva's sons they are indeed, Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed,(146) Heralds of conquest, strong and bold, Brilliant, of semblance manifold.

Jaya and Vijaya, most fair, And hundred splendid weapons bare.

Of Jaya, glorious as the morn, First fifty n.o.ble sons were born, Boundless in size yet viewless too, They came the demons to subdue.

And fifty children also came Of Vijaya the beauteous dame, Sanharas named, of mighty force, Hard to a.s.sail or check in course.

Of these the hermit knows the use, And weapons new can he produce.

All these the mighty saint will yield To Rama's hand, to own and wield; And armed with these, beyond a doubt Shall Rama put those fiends to rout.

For Rama and the people's sake, For thine own good my counsel take, Nor seek, O King, with fond delay, The parting of thy son to stay."

Canto XXIV. The Spells.

Vasish?ha thus was speaking still: The monarch, of his own free will, Bade with quick zeal and joyful cheer Rama and Lakshma? hasten near.

Mother and sire in loving care Sped their dear son with rite and prayer: Vasish?ha blessed him ere he went; O'er his loved head the father bent, And then to Kusik's son resigned Rama with Lakshma? close behind.

Standing by Visvamitra's side, The youthful hero, lotus-eyed, The Wind-G.o.d saw, and sent a breeze Whose sweet pure touch just waved the trees.

There fell from heaven a flowery rain, And with the song and dance the strain Of sh.e.l.l and tambour sweetly blent As forth the son of Raghu went.

The hermit led: behind him came The bow-armed Rama, dear to fame, Whose locks were like the raven's wing:(147) Then Lakshma?, closely following.

The G.o.ds and Indra, filled with joy, Looked down upon the royal boy, And much they longed the death to see Of their ten-headed enemy.(148) Rama and Lakshma? paced behind That hermit of the lofty mind, As the young Asvins,(149) heavenly pair, Follow Lord Indra through the air.

On arm and hand the guard they wore, Quiver and bow and sword they bore; Two fire-born G.o.ds of War seemed they.(150) He, Siva's self who led the way.

Upon fair Sarju's southern sh.o.r.e They now had walked a league and more, When thus the sage in accents mild To Rama said: "Beloved child, This l.u.s.tral water duly touch: My counsel will avail thee much.

Forget not all the words I say, Nor let the occasion slip away.

Lo, with two spells I thee invest, The mighty and the mightiest.

O'er thee fatigue shall ne'er prevail, Nor age or change thy limbs a.s.sail.

Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smite In tranquil sleep or wild delight.