The Ramayana - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Ramayana Part 82 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Forth from the sky was heard o'erhead As 'twere a human voice that said: "Yea, even so: great King, this child Henceforth thine own be justly styled."
Videha's monarch, virtuous souled, Rejoiced o'er me with joy untold, Delighting in his new-won prize, The darling of his heart and eyes.
To his chief queen of saintly mind The precious treasure he consigned, And by her side she saw me grow, Nursed with the love which mothers know.
Then as he saw the seasons fly, And knew my marriage-time was nigh, My sire was vexed with care, as sad As one who mourns the wealth he had: "Scorn on the maiden's sire must wait From men of high and low estate: The virgin's father all despise, Though Indra's peer, who rules the skies."
More near he saw, and still more near, The scorn that filled his soul with fear, On trouble's billowy ocean tossed, Like one whose shattered bark is lost.
My father knowing how I came, No daughter of a mortal dame, In all the regions failed to see A bridegroom meet to match with me.
Each way with anxious thought he scanned, And thus at length the monarch planned: "The Bride's Election will I hold, With every rite prescribed of old."
It pleased King Varu? to bestow Quiver and shafts and heavenly bow Upon my father's sire who reigned, When Daksha his great rite ordained.
Where was the man might bend or lift With utmost toil that wondrous gift?
Not e'en in dreams could mortal king Strain the great bow or draw the string.
Of this tremendous bow possessed, My truthful father thus addressed The lords of many a region, all a.s.sembled at the monarch's call: "Whoe'er this bow can manage, he The husband of my child shall be."
The suitors viewed with hopeless eyes That wondrous bow of mountain size, Then to my sire they bade adieu, And all with humbled hearts withdrew.
At length with Visvamitra came This son of Raghu, dear to fame, The royal sacrifice to view.
Near to my father's home he drew, His brother Lakshma? by his side, Rama, in deeds heroic tried.
My sire with honour entertained The saint in lore of duty trained, Who thus in turn addressed the king: "Rama and Lakshma? here who spring From royal Dasaratha, long To see thy bow so pa.s.sing strong."
Before the prince's eyes was laid That marvel, as the Brahman prayed.
One moment on the bow he gazed, Quick to the notch the string he raised, Then, in the wandering people's view, The cord with mighty force he drew.
Then with an awful crash as loud As thunderbolts that cleave the cloud, The bow beneath the matchless strain Of arms heroic snapped in twain.
Thus, giving purest water, he, My sire, to Rama offered me.
The prince the offered gift declined Till he should learn his father's mind; So hors.e.m.e.n swift Ayodhya sought And back her aged monarch brought.
Me then my sire to Rama gave, Self-ruled, the bravest of the brave.
And Urmila, the next to me, Graced with all gifts, most fair to see, My sire with Raghu's house allied, And gave her to be Lakshma?'s bride.
Thus from the princes of the land Lord Rama won my maiden hand, And him exalted high above Heroic chiefs I truly love."
Canto CXIX. The Forest.
When Anasuya, virtuous-souled, Had heard the tale by Sita told, She kissed the lady's brow and laced Her loving arms around her waist.
"With sweet-toned words distinct and clear Thy pleasant tale has charmed mine ear, How the great king thy father held That Maiden's Choice unparalleled.
But now the sun has sunk from sight, And left the world to holy Night.
Hark! how the leafy thickets sound With gathering birds that twitter round: They sought their food by day, and all Flock homeward when the shadows fall.
See, hither comes the hermit band, Each with his pitcher in his hand: Fresh from the bath, their locks are wet, Their coats of bark are dripping yet.
Here saints their fires of wors.h.i.+p tend, And curling wreaths of smoke ascend: Borne on the flames they mount above, Dark as the brown wings of the dove.
The distant trees, though well-nigh bare, Gloom thickened by the evening air, And in the faint uncertain light Shut the horizon from our sight.
The beasts that prowl in darkness rove On every side about the grove, And the tame deer, at ease reclined Their shelter near the altars find.
The night o'er all the sky is spread, With lunar stars engarlanded, And risen in his robes of light The moon is beautifully bright.
Now to thy lord I bid thee go: Thy pleasant tale has charmed me so: One thing alone I needs must pray, Before me first thyself array: Here in thy heavenly raiment s.h.i.+ne, And glad, dear love, these eyes of mine."
Then like a heavenly G.o.ddess shone Fair Sita with that raiment on.
She bowed her to the matron's feet, Then turned away her lord to meet.
The hero prince with joy surveyed His Sita in her robes arrayed, As glorious to his arms she came With love-gifts of the saintly dame.
She told him how the saint to show Her fond affection would bestow That garland of celestial twine, Those ornaments and robes divine.
Then Rama's heart, nor Lakshma?'s less, Was filled with pride and happiness, For honours high had Sita gained, Which mortal dames have scarce obtained.
There honoured by each pious sage Who dwelt within the hermitage, Beside his darling well content That sacred night the hero spent.
The princes, when the night had fled, Farewell to all the hermits said, Who gazed upon the distant shade, Their l.u.s.tral rites and offerings paid.
The saints who made their dwelling there In words like these addressed the pair: "O Princes, monsters fierce and fell Around that distant forest dwell: On blood from human veins they feed, And various forms a.s.sume at need, With savage beasts of fearful power That human flesh and blood devour.
Our holy saints they rend and tear When met alone or unaware, And eat them in their cruel joy: These chase, O Rama, or destroy.
By this one path our hermits go To fetch the fruits that yonder grow: By this, O Prince, thy feet should stray Through pathless forests far away."
Thus by the reverent saints addressed, And by their prayers auspicious blessed, He left the holy crowd: His wife and brother by his side, Within the mighty wood he hied.
So sinks the Day-G.o.d in his pride Beneath a bank of cloud.
BOOK III.
Canto I. The Hermitage.
When Rama, valiant hero, stood In the vast shade of Da??ak wood, His eyes on every side he bent And saw a hermit settlement, Where coats of bark were hung around, And holy gra.s.s bestrewed the ground.
Bright with Brahmanic l.u.s.tre glowed That circle where the saints abode: Like the hot sun in heaven it shone, Too dazzling to be looked upon.
Wild creatures found a refuge where The court, well-swept, was bright and fair, And countless birds and roedeer made Their dwelling in the friendly shade.
Beneath the boughs of well-loved trees Oft danced the gay Apsarases.(401) Around was many an ample shed Wherein the holy fire was fed; With sacred gra.s.s and skins of deer, Ladles and sacrificial gear, And roots and fruit, and wood to burn, And many a br.i.m.m.i.n.g water-urn.
Tall trees their hallowed branches spread, Laden with pleasant fruit, o'erhead; And gifts which holy laws require,(402) And solemn offerings burnt with fire,(403) And Veda chants on every side That home of hermits sanctified.
There many a flower its odour shed, And lotus blooms the lake o'erspred.
There, clad in coats of bark and hide,- Their food by roots and fruit supplied,- Dwelt many an old and reverend sire Bright as the sun or Lord of Fire, All with each worldly sense subdued, A pure and saintly mult.i.tude.
The Veda chants, the saints who trod The sacred ground and mused on G.o.d, Made that delightful grove appear Like Brahma's own most glorious sphere.
As Raghu's splendid son surveyed That hermit home and tranquil shade, He loosed his mighty bow-string, then Drew nearer to the holy men.
With keen celestial sight endued Those mighty saints the chieftain viewed, With joy to meet the prince they came, And gentle Sita dear to fame.
They looked on virtuous Rama, fair As Soma(404) in the evening air, And Lakshma? by his brother's side, And Sita long in duty tried, And with glad blessings every sage Received them in the hermitage.
Then Rama's form and stature tall Entranced the wondering eyes of all,- His youthful grace, his strength of limb, And garb that n.o.bly sat on him.
To Lakshma? too their looks they raised, And upon Sita's beauty gazed With eyes that closed not lest their sight Should miss the vision of delight.
Then the pure hermits of the wood, Rejoicing in all creatures' good, Their guest, the glorious Rama, led Within a cot with leaves o'erhead.
With highest honour all the best Of radiant saints received their guest, With kind observance, as is meet, And gave him water for his feet.
To highest pitch of rapture wrought Their stores of roots and fruit they brought.
They poured their blessings on his head, And "All we have is thine," they said.
Then, reverent hand to hand applied,(405) Each duty-loving hermit cried: "The king is our protector, bright In fame, maintainer of the right.
He bears the awful sword, and hence Deserves an elder's reverence.
One fourth of Indra's essence, he Preserves his realm from danger free, Hence honoured by the world of right The king enjoys each choice delight.
Thou shouldst to us protection give, For in thy realm, dear lord, we live: Whether in town or wood thou be, Thou art our king, thy people we.
Our wordly aims are laid aside, Our hearts are tamed and purified.
To thee our guardian, we who earn Our only wealth by penance turn."
Then the pure dwellers in the shade To Raghu's son due honour paid, And Lakshma?, bringing store of roots, And many a flower, and woodland fruits.
And others strove the prince to please With all attentive courtesies.
Canto II. Viradha.