VIS'VÁMITRA'S SPEECH.The hermit heard with high contentThat speech so wondrous eloquent,And while each hair with joy arose, 2b
He thus made answer at the close:'Good is thy speech O noble King,And like thyself in everything.So should their lips be wisdom-fraughtWhom kings begot, Vas'ishtha taught.The favour which I came to seekThou grantest ere my tongue can speak.But let my tale attention claim,And hear the need for which I came,O King, as Scripture texts allow,A holy rite employs me now.Two fiends who change their forms at willImpede that rite with cursed skill. 1Oft when the task is nigh complete,These worst of fiends my toil defeat,Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'erThe altar shed a stream of gore.When thus the rite is mocked and stayed,And all my pious hopes delayed,Cast down in heart the spot I leave,And spent with fruitless labour grieve.Nor can I, checked by prudence, dareLet loose my fury on them there:The muttered curse, the threatening word,In such a rite must ne'er be heard.Thy grace the rite from check can free.And yield the fruit I long to see.Thy duty bids thee, King, defendThe suffering guest, the suppliant friend.Give me thy son, thine eldest born,Whom locks like raven's wings adorn,That hero youth, the truly brave,Of thee, O glorious King, I crave,For he can lay those demons lowWho mar my rites and work me woe:My power shall shield the youth from harm,And heavenly might shall nerve his arm.And on my champion will I showerUnnumbered gifts of varied power,Such gifts as shall ensure his fameAnd spread through all the worlds his name.Be sure those fiends can never standBefore the might of Ráma's hand,And mid the best and bravest noneCan slay that pair but Raghu's son.Entangled in the toils of FateThose sinners, proud and obstinate,Are, in their fury overbold,No match for Ráma mighty-souled.Nor let a father's breast give wayToo far to fond affection's sway.Count thou the fiends already slain:My word is pledged, nor pledged in vain.I know the hero Ráma well
In whom high thoughts and valour dwell;So does Vas'ishtha, so do theseEngaged in long austerities.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 Ráma give.If to the words that I have said,With Saint Vas'ishtha at their headThy holy men, O King, agree,Then let thy Ráma go with me.Ten nights my sacrifice will last,And ere the stated time be pastThose wicked fiends, those impious twain,Must fall by wondrous Ráma 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 fraughtThe pious glorious saint besought.But the good speech with poignant stingPierced ear and bosom of the king,Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear,Fell prostrate and lay fainting there.
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Footnotes33:1b The Indian nectar or drink of the Gods.
33:2b Great joy, according to the Hindu belief, has this effect, not causing each particular hair to stand on end, but gently raising all the down upon the body.
34:1 The Rákshasas, giants, or fiends who are represented as disturbing the sacrifice, signify here, as often elsewhere, merely the savage tribes which placed themselves in hostile opposition to Bráhmanical institutions.
CANTO XXII.:
He thus made answer at the close:'Good is thy speech O noble King,And like thyself in everything.So should their lips be wisdom-fraughtWhom kings begot, Vas'ishtha taught.The favour which I came to seekThou grantest ere my tongue can speak.But let my tale attention claim,And hear the need for which I came,O King, as Scripture texts allow,A holy rite employs me now.Two fiends who change their forms at willImpede that rite with cursed skill. 1Oft when the task is nigh complete,These worst of fiends my toil defeat,Throw bits of bleeding flesh, and o'erThe altar shed a stream of gore.When thus the rite is mocked and stayed,And all my pious hopes delayed,Cast down in heart the spot I leave,And spent with fruitless labour grieve.Nor can I, checked by prudence, dareLet loose my fury on them there:The muttered curse, the threatening word,In such a rite must ne'er be heard.Thy grace the rite from check can free.And yield the fruit I long to see.Thy duty bids thee, King, defendThe suffering guest, the suppliant friend.Give me thy son, thine eldest born,Whom locks like raven's wings adorn,That hero youth, the truly brave,Of thee, O glorious King, I crave,For he can lay those demons lowWho mar my rites and work me woe:My power shall shield the youth from harm,And heavenly might shall nerve his arm.And on my champion will I showerUnnumbered gifts of varied power,Such gifts as shall ensure his fameAnd spread through all the worlds his name.Be sure those fiends can never standBefore the might of Ráma's hand,And mid the best and bravest noneCan slay that pair but Raghu's son.Entangled in the toils of FateThose sinners, proud and obstinate,Are, in their fury overbold,No match for Ráma mighty-souled.Nor let a father's breast give wayToo far to fond affection's sway.Count thou the fiends already slain:My word is pledged, nor pledged in vain.I know the hero Ráma well
In whom high thoughts and valour dwell;So does Vas'ishtha, so do theseEngaged in long austerities.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 Ráma give.If to the words that I have said,With Saint Vas'ishtha at their headThy holy men, O King, agree,Then let thy Ráma go with me.Ten nights my sacrifice will last,And ere the stated time be pastThose wicked fiends, those impious twain,Must fall by wondrous Ráma 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 fraughtThe pious glorious saint besought.But the good speech with poignant stingPierced ear and bosom of the king,Who, stabbed with pangs too sharp to bear,Fell prostrate and lay fainting there.
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Footnotes33:1b The Indian nectar or drink of the Gods.
33:2b Great joy, according to the Hindu belief, has this effect, not causing each particular hair to stand on end, but gently raising all the down upon the body.
34:1 The Rákshasas, giants, or fiends who are represented as disturbing the sacrifice, signify here, as often elsewhere, merely the savage tribes which placed themselves in hostile opposition to Bráhmanical institutions.
CANTO XXII.:
DAS'ARATHA'S SPEECH.His tortured senses all astray,Awhle the hapless monarch lay,Then slowly gathering thought and strengthTo Visvámitra 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 mghty army will I bringThat calls me master, lord, and king,And with its countless squadrons fightAgainst these rovers of the night.Mv faithful heroes skilled to wieldThe arms of war will take the field;Their skill the demons' might may break:Ráma, 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 beCompleted, from all hindrance free.Thither will I my journey make:Ráma, my child, thou must not take.A boy unskilled, he knows not yetThe bounds to strength and weakness set,No match is he for demon foesWho magic arts to arms oppose.
O chief of saints, I have no power,Of Ráma reft, to live one hour:Mine aged heart at once would break:Ráma, my child, thou must not take.Nine thousand circling years have fledWith 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 fourIs he whom first his mother bore,Still dearer for his virtues' sake:Ráma, 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 1 all complete.What is the demons' might, O Sage?Who are they? What their parentage?What is their size? What beings lendTheir 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 knowTo meet in war each evil foeWhom conscious might inspires with pride.'
And Vis'vámitra thus replied:'Sprung from Pulastya's race there cameA giant known by Rávan's name.Once favoured by the Eternal SireHe plagues the worlds in ceaseless ire,For peerless power and might renowned,By giant bands encompassed round.Vis'ravas 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 Rávan's dread commands impelTwo demons who in might excel,Maricha and Suváhu hight,To trouble and impede the rite.'
Then thus the king addressed the sage:'No power have I, my lord, to wageWar with this evil-minded foe;Now pity on my darling show,And upon me of hapless fate,For thee as God I venerate.Gods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth, 2The birds of air, the snakes of earthBefore the might of Rávan 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,Godlike, 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 Suváhu fellAre valiant and instructed well.One of the twain I might attack.With all my friends their lord to back.'
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Footnotes35:1 Consisting of horse, foot, chariots, and elephants.
35:2 'The Gandharvas, or heavenly bards, had originally a warlike character but were afterwards reduced to the office of celestial musicians cheering the banquets of the Gods. Dr. Kuhn has shown their identity with the Centaurs in name, origin and attributes.' GORRESIO.
CANTO XXIII.:
O chief of saints, I have no power,Of Ráma reft, to live one hour:Mine aged heart at once would break:Ráma, my child, thou must not take.Nine thousand circling years have fledWith 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 fourIs he whom first his mother bore,Still dearer for his virtues' sake:Ráma, 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 1 all complete.What is the demons' might, O Sage?Who are they? What their parentage?What is their size? What beings lendTheir 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 knowTo meet in war each evil foeWhom conscious might inspires with pride.'
And Vis'vámitra thus replied:'Sprung from Pulastya's race there cameA giant known by Rávan's name.Once favoured by the Eternal SireHe plagues the worlds in ceaseless ire,For peerless power and might renowned,By giant bands encompassed round.Vis'ravas 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 Rávan's dread commands impelTwo demons who in might excel,Maricha and Suváhu hight,To trouble and impede the rite.'
Then thus the king addressed the sage:'No power have I, my lord, to wageWar with this evil-minded foe;Now pity on my darling show,And upon me of hapless fate,For thee as God I venerate.Gods, spirits, bards of heavenly birth, 2The birds of air, the snakes of earthBefore the might of Rávan 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,Godlike, 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 Suváhu fellAre valiant and instructed well.One of the twain I might attack.With all my friends their lord to back.'
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Footnotes35:1 Consisting of horse, foot, chariots, and elephants.
35:2 'The Gandharvas, or heavenly bards, had originally a warlike character but were afterwards reduced to the office of celestial musicians cheering the banquets of the Gods. Dr. Kuhn has shown their identity with the Centaurs in name, origin and attributes.' GORRESIO.
CANTO XXIII.:
VAS'ISHTHA'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 scornTo fail in faith, a man forsworn.But if thy soul can bear the shameI will return e'en as I came.Live with thy sons, and joy be thine,False scion of Kakutstha's line.'
As Vis'vámitra, mighty sage,Was moved with this tempestuous rage,Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,And fear upon the Immortals came.But Saint Vas'ishtha, wisest seer,Observant of his vows austere,Saw the whole world convulsed with dread,And thus unto the monarch said:'Thou, born of old Ikshváku'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 throughThe triple world as just and true,Perform thy bounden duty still,Nor stain thy race by deed of illIf thou have sworn and now refuseThou must thy store of merit lose.Then, Monarch, let thy Ráma go,Nor fear for him the demon foe.The fiends shall have no power to hurtHim trained to war or inexpert,Nor vanquish him in battle field,For Kus'ik's son the youth will shield.He is incarnate Justice, heThe best of men for bravery.Embodied love of penance drear,Among the wise without a peer.
Full well he knows, great Kus'ik's son,The arms celestial, every one,Arms from the Gods themselves concealed,Far less to other men revealed.These arms to him, when earth he swayed,Mighty Kris'ás'va, pleased, conveyed.Kris'ás'va's sons they are indeed,Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed, 1Heralds of conquest, strong and bold,Brilliant, of semblance manifold.Jayá and Vijayá, most fair,And hundred splendid weapons bare.Of Jayá, glorious as the morn,First fifty noble sons were born.Boundless in size yet viewless too,They came the demons to subdue.And fifty children also cameOf Vijayá the beauteous dame,Samháras named, of mighty force,Hard to assail or check in course.Of these the hermit knows the use,And weapons new can he produce.All these the mighty saint will yieldTo Ráma's hand, to own and wield;And armed with these, beyond a doubtShall Ráma put those fiends to rout.For Ráma 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.:
As Vis'vámitra, mighty sage,Was moved with this tempestuous rage,Earth rocked and reeled throughout her frame,And fear upon the Immortals came.But Saint Vas'ishtha, wisest seer,Observant of his vows austere,Saw the whole world convulsed with dread,And thus unto the monarch said:'Thou, born of old Ikshváku'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 throughThe triple world as just and true,Perform thy bounden duty still,Nor stain thy race by deed of illIf thou have sworn and now refuseThou must thy store of merit lose.Then, Monarch, let thy Ráma go,Nor fear for him the demon foe.The fiends shall have no power to hurtHim trained to war or inexpert,Nor vanquish him in battle field,For Kus'ik's son the youth will shield.He is incarnate Justice, heThe best of men for bravery.Embodied love of penance drear,Among the wise without a peer.
Full well he knows, great Kus'ik's son,The arms celestial, every one,Arms from the Gods themselves concealed,Far less to other men revealed.These arms to him, when earth he swayed,Mighty Kris'ás'va, pleased, conveyed.Kris'ás'va's sons they are indeed,Brought forth by Daksha's lovely seed, 1Heralds of conquest, strong and bold,Brilliant, of semblance manifold.Jayá and Vijayá, most fair,And hundred splendid weapons bare.Of Jayá, glorious as the morn,First fifty noble sons were born.Boundless in size yet viewless too,They came the demons to subdue.And fifty children also cameOf Vijayá the beauteous dame,Samháras named, of mighty force,Hard to assail or check in course.Of these the hermit knows the use,And weapons new can he produce.All these the mighty saint will yieldTo Ráma's hand, to own and wield;And armed with these, beyond a doubtShall Ráma put those fiends to rout.For Ráma 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.Vas'ishtha thus was speaking still:The monarch, of his own free will.Bade with quick seal and joyful cheerRáma and Lakshman hasten near.Mother and sire in loving careSped their dear son with rite and prayer:Vas'ishtha blessed him ere he went;O'er his loved head the father bent,And then to Kus'ik's son resignedRáma with Lakshman close behind.Standing by Vis'vámitra's side,The youthful hero, lotus-eyed,The Wind-God saw, and sent a breezeWhose sweet pure touch just waved the trees.There fell from heaven a flowery rain,And with the song and dance the strainOf shell and tambour sweetly blentAs forth the son of Raghu went.
The hermit led: behind him cameThe bow-armed Ráma, dear to fame,Whose locks were like the raven's wing; 1bThen Lakshman, closely following.The Gods and Indra, filled with joy,Looked down upon the royal boy,And much they longed the death to seeOf their ten-headed enemy. 2bRáma and Lakshman paced behindThat hermit of the lofty mind.As the young As'vins, 3b 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 Gods of War seemed they. 4bHe, S'iva's self who led the way.
Upon fair Sarjú's southern shoreThey now had walked a league and more,When thus the sage in accents mildTo Ráma said: 'Beloved child,This lustral 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 assail.Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smiteln tranquil sleep or wild delight.No one is there in all the landThine equal for the vigorous hand.
Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell,None in the world with thee shall vie,O sinless one, in apt reply,In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,Wisdom to plan and skill to act.This double science take, and gainGlory that shall for aye remain.Wisdom and judgment spring from eachOf these fair spells whose use I teach.Hunger and thirst unknown to thee,High in the worlds thy rank shall be.For these two spells with might endued,Are the Great Father's heavenly brood,And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,Thou glory of Kakutstha's race.Virtues which none can match are thine,Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,And now these spells of might shall castFresh radiance o'er the gifts thou hast.'Then Ráma duly touched the wave, Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,And took the spells the hermit gave Whose soul on contemplation fed.From him whose might these gifts enhanced,A brighter beam of glory glanced:So shines in all his autumn blazeThe Day-God of the thousand rays.The hermit's wants those youths supplied,As pupils use to holy guide.And then the night in sweet contentOn Sarjú's pleasant bank they spent.
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Footnotes36:1 These mysterious animated weapons are enumerated in Cantos XXIX and XXX. Daksha was the son of Brahmá and one of the Prajápatis, Demiurgi, or secondary authors of creation.
36:1b Youths of the Kshatriya class used to leave unshorn the side locks of their hair. These were called Káka-paksha, or raven's wings.
36:2b The Rákshas or giant Rávan, king ot Lanká.
36:3b The meaning of As'vins (from as'va a horse, Persian asp, Greek ἵιππος, Latin equus, Welsh *eck, is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The As'vins have much in common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and their mythical genealogy seems to indicate that their origin was astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the morning star and evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and the nymph As'viní, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods. GORRESIO.
36:4b The word Kumára, (a young prince, h Childe, is also a proper name of Skanda or Kártikeya God of War, the son of S'iva and Umá. The babe was matured in the fire. See Appendix, Kártikeii Generatio.
CANTO XXV.:
The hermit led: behind him cameThe bow-armed Ráma, dear to fame,Whose locks were like the raven's wing; 1bThen Lakshman, closely following.The Gods and Indra, filled with joy,Looked down upon the royal boy,And much they longed the death to seeOf their ten-headed enemy. 2bRáma and Lakshman paced behindThat hermit of the lofty mind.As the young As'vins, 3b 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 Gods of War seemed they. 4bHe, S'iva's self who led the way.
Upon fair Sarjú's southern shoreThey now had walked a league and more,When thus the sage in accents mildTo Ráma said: 'Beloved child,This lustral 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 assail.Thee powers of darkness ne'er shall smiteln tranquil sleep or wild delight.No one is there in all the landThine equal for the vigorous hand.
Thou, when thy lips pronounce the spell,Shalt have no peer in heaven or hell,None in the world with thee shall vie,O sinless one, in apt reply,In fortune, knowledge, wit, and tact,Wisdom to plan and skill to act.This double science take, and gainGlory that shall for aye remain.Wisdom and judgment spring from eachOf these fair spells whose use I teach.Hunger and thirst unknown to thee,High in the worlds thy rank shall be.For these two spells with might endued,Are the Great Father's heavenly brood,And thee, O Chief, may fitly grace,Thou glory of Kakutstha's race.Virtues which none can match are thine,Lord, from thy birth, of gifts divine,And now these spells of might shall castFresh radiance o'er the gifts thou hast.'Then Ráma duly touched the wave, Raised suppliant hands, bowed low his head,And took the spells the hermit gave Whose soul on contemplation fed.From him whose might these gifts enhanced,A brighter beam of glory glanced:So shines in all his autumn blazeThe Day-God of the thousand rays.The hermit's wants those youths supplied,As pupils use to holy guide.And then the night in sweet contentOn Sarjú's pleasant bank they spent.
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Footnotes36:1 These mysterious animated weapons are enumerated in Cantos XXIX and XXX. Daksha was the son of Brahmá and one of the Prajápatis, Demiurgi, or secondary authors of creation.
36:1b Youths of the Kshatriya class used to leave unshorn the side locks of their hair. These were called Káka-paksha, or raven's wings.
36:2b The Rákshas or giant Rávan, king ot Lanká.
36:3b The meaning of As'vins (from as'va a horse, Persian asp, Greek ἵιππος, Latin equus, Welsh *eck, is Horsemen. They were twin deities of whom frequent mention is made in the Vedas and the Indian myths. The As'vins have much in common with the Dioscuri of Greece, and their mythical genealogy seems to indicate that their origin was astronomical. They were, perhaps, at first the morning star and evening star. They are said to be the children of the sun and the nymph As'viní, who is one of the lunar asterisms personified. In the popular mythology they are regarded as the physicians of the Gods. GORRESIO.
36:4b The word Kumára, (a young prince, h Childe, is also a proper name of Skanda or Kártikeya God of War, the son of S'iva and Umá. The babe was matured in the fire. See Appendix, Kártikeii Generatio.
CANTO XXV.:
THE HERMITAGE OF LOVE.Soon as appeared the morning lightUp rose the mighty anchorite,And thus to youthful Ráma said,Who lay upon his leafy bed:'High fate is hers who calls thee son: Arise,'tis break of day;Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done Due at the morning's ray.' 1At that great sage's high behest Up sprang the princely pair,To bathing rites themselves addressed, And breathed the holiest prayer.Their morning task completed, they To Vis'vámitra came
That store of holy works, to pay The worship saints may claim.Then to the hallowed spot they went Along fair Sarjú's sideWhere mix her waters confluent With three-pathed Gangá's tide. 1bThere was a sacred hermitage Where saints devout of mindTheir lives through many a lengthened age To penance had resigned.That pure abode the princes eyed With unrestrained delight,And thus unto the saint they cried. Rejoicing at the sight:'Whose is that hermitage we see? Who makes his dwelling there?Full of desire to hear are we: O Saint, the truth declare.'The hermit smiling made reply To the two boys' request:'Hear, Rama, who in days gone by This calm retreat possessed.Kandarpa in apparent form, Called Káma 2b by the wise,Dared Umá's 3b new-wed lord to storm And make the God his prize.'Gainst Sthánu's 4b self, on rites austere And vows intent, 5b they say,His bold rash hand be dared to rear, Though Sthánu cried, Away!But the God's eye with scornful glare Fell terrible on him.Dissolved the shape that was so fair
And burnt up every limb.Since the great God's terrific rage Destroyed his form and frame,Káma in each succeeding age Has borne Ananga's 1 name.So, where his lovely form decayed, This land is Anga styled:Sacred to him of old this shade, And hermits undefiled.Here Scripture-talking elders sway Each sense with firm control,And penance-rites have washed away All sin from every soul.One night, fair boy, we here will spend, A pure stream on each hand,And with to-morrow's light will bend Our steps to yonder strand.Here let us bathe, and free from stain To that pure grove repair,Sacred to Káma, and remain One night in comfort there.'With penance' far-discerning eye The saintly men beheldTheir coming, and with transport high Each holy bosom swelled.To Kus'ik's son the gift they gave That honoured guest should greet,Water they brought his feet to lave, And showed him honor meet.Ráma, and Lakshman next obtained In due degree their share.Then with sweet talk the guests remained, And charmed each listener there.The evening prayers were duly said With voices calm and low:Then on the ground each laid his head And slept till morning's glow.
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Footnotes37:1 'At the rising of the sun as well as at noon certain observances, invocations, and prayers were prescribed which might under no circumstances be omitted. One of these observances was the recitation of the Sávitri, a Vedic hymn to the Sun of wonderful beauty.' GORBESIO.
37:1b Tripathaga, Three-path-go, flowing in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. See Canto XLV
37:2b Tennyson's ' Indian Cama,' the God of Love, known also by many other names.
37:3b Uma, or Parvati, was daughter of Himálaya, Monarch of mountains, and wife of S'iva. See Kálidása's Kumára Sambhava, or Birth of the War-God.
37:4b Sthánu, The Unmoving one, a name of S'iva.
37:5b The practice of austerities, voluntary tortures, and mortifications was anciently universal in India, and was held by the Indians to be of immense efficacy. Hence they mortified themselves to expiate sins, to acquire merits, and to obtain superhuman gifts and powers; the Gods themselves sometimes exercised themselves in such austerities, either to raise themselves to greater power and grandeur, or to counteract the austerities of man which threatened to prevail over them and to deprive them of heaven.... Such austerities were called in India tapas (burning ardour, fervent devotion) and he who practised them tapasvin.'GORRESIO
That store of holy works, to pay The worship saints may claim.Then to the hallowed spot they went Along fair Sarjú's sideWhere mix her waters confluent With three-pathed Gangá's tide. 1bThere was a sacred hermitage Where saints devout of mindTheir lives through many a lengthened age To penance had resigned.That pure abode the princes eyed With unrestrained delight,And thus unto the saint they cried. Rejoicing at the sight:'Whose is that hermitage we see? Who makes his dwelling there?Full of desire to hear are we: O Saint, the truth declare.'The hermit smiling made reply To the two boys' request:'Hear, Rama, who in days gone by This calm retreat possessed.Kandarpa in apparent form, Called Káma 2b by the wise,Dared Umá's 3b new-wed lord to storm And make the God his prize.'Gainst Sthánu's 4b self, on rites austere And vows intent, 5b they say,His bold rash hand be dared to rear, Though Sthánu cried, Away!But the God's eye with scornful glare Fell terrible on him.Dissolved the shape that was so fair
And burnt up every limb.Since the great God's terrific rage Destroyed his form and frame,Káma in each succeeding age Has borne Ananga's 1 name.So, where his lovely form decayed, This land is Anga styled:Sacred to him of old this shade, And hermits undefiled.Here Scripture-talking elders sway Each sense with firm control,And penance-rites have washed away All sin from every soul.One night, fair boy, we here will spend, A pure stream on each hand,And with to-morrow's light will bend Our steps to yonder strand.Here let us bathe, and free from stain To that pure grove repair,Sacred to Káma, and remain One night in comfort there.'With penance' far-discerning eye The saintly men beheldTheir coming, and with transport high Each holy bosom swelled.To Kus'ik's son the gift they gave That honoured guest should greet,Water they brought his feet to lave, And showed him honor meet.Ráma, and Lakshman next obtained In due degree their share.Then with sweet talk the guests remained, And charmed each listener there.The evening prayers were duly said With voices calm and low:Then on the ground each laid his head And slept till morning's glow.
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Footnotes37:1 'At the rising of the sun as well as at noon certain observances, invocations, and prayers were prescribed which might under no circumstances be omitted. One of these observances was the recitation of the Sávitri, a Vedic hymn to the Sun of wonderful beauty.' GORBESIO.
37:1b Tripathaga, Three-path-go, flowing in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. See Canto XLV
37:2b Tennyson's ' Indian Cama,' the God of Love, known also by many other names.
37:3b Uma, or Parvati, was daughter of Himálaya, Monarch of mountains, and wife of S'iva. See Kálidása's Kumára Sambhava, or Birth of the War-God.
37:4b Sthánu, The Unmoving one, a name of S'iva.
37:5b The practice of austerities, voluntary tortures, and mortifications was anciently universal in India, and was held by the Indians to be of immense efficacy. Hence they mortified themselves to expiate sins, to acquire merits, and to obtain superhuman gifts and powers; the Gods themselves sometimes exercised themselves in such austerities, either to raise themselves to greater power and grandeur, or to counteract the austerities of man which threatened to prevail over them and to deprive them of heaven.... Such austerities were called in India tapas (burning ardour, fervent devotion) and he who practised them tapasvin.'GORRESIO
CANTO XXVI.:
THE FOREST OF TÁDAKÁ.When the fair light of morning roseThe princely turners of their foesFollowed, his morning worship o'er,The hermit to the river's shore.The high-souled men with thoughtful careA pretty barge had stationed there.All cried. 'O lord, this barge ascend,And with thy princely followers bendTo yonder side thy prosperous wayWith naught to check thee or delay.'
Nor did the saint their rede reject:He bade farewell with due respect,And crossed, attended by the twain,That river rushing to the main.When now the bark was half way o'er,Ráma and Lakshman heard the roar,
That louder grew and louder yet,Of waves by dashing waters met.Then Ráma asked the mighty seer:'What is the tumult that I hearOf waters cleft in mid career?'Soon as the speech of Ráma, stirredBy deep desire to know, he heard,The pious saint began to tellWhat paused the waters' roar and swell:'On high Kailása's distant hill There lies a noble lakeWhose waters, born from Brahmá's will, The name of Mánas 1b take.Thence, hallowing where'er they flow, The streams of Sarjú fall,And wandering through the plains below Embrace Ayodhyá's wall.Still, still preserved in Sarjú's name Sarovar's 2b fame we trace.The flood of Brahma whence she came To run her holy race.To meet great Gangá here she hies With tributary wave:Hence the loud roar ye hear arise, Of floods that swell and rave.Here, pride of Raghu's line, do thouIn humble adoration bow.'
He spoke. The princes both obeyed,And reverence to each river paid. 3bThey reached the southern shore at last,And gaily on their journey passed.A little space beyond there stoodA gloomy awe-inspiring wood.The monarch's noble son beganTo question thus the holy man:'Whose gloomy forest meets mine eyeLike some vast cloud that fills the sky?Pathless and dark it seems to be,Where birds in thousands wander free;Where shrill cicadas' cries resound,
And fowl of dismal note abound,Lion, rhinoceros, and bear,Boar, tiger, elephant, are there, There shrubs and thorns run wild:Dháo, Sál, Bignonia, Bel, 1 are found,And every tree that grows on ground. How is the forest styled?'The glorious saint this answer made: 'Dear child of Raghu, hearWho dwells within the horrid shade That looks so dark and drear.Where now is wood, long ere this day Two broad and fertile lands,Malaja and Karúsha lay. Adorned by heavenly hands.Here, mourning friendship's broken ties,Lord Indra of the thousand eyesHungered and sorrowed many a day,His brightness soiled with mud and clay,When in a storm of passion heHad slain his dear friend Namuchi.Then came the Gods and saints who boreTheir golden pitchers brimming o'erWith holy streams that banish stain,And bathed Lord Indra pure again.When in this land the God was freedFrom spot and stain of impious deedFor that his own dear friend he slew,High transport thrilled his bosom through.Then in his joy the lands he blessed,And gave a boon they long possessed:'Because these fertile lands retainThe washings of the blot and stain,' 'Twas thus Lord Indra sware,'Malaja and Karúsha's nameShall celebrate with deathless fame My malady and care.' 2'So be it', all the Immortals cried, When Indra's speech they heard,And with acclaim they ratified The names his lips conferred.Long time, O victor of thy foes,These happy lands had sweet repose,And higher still in fortune rose.At length a spirit, loving ill,Tádaká , wearing shapes at will,
Whose mighty strength, exceeding vastA thousand elephants, surpassed,Was to fierce Sunda, lord and headOf all the demon armies, wed.From her, Lord Indra's peer in mightGiant Máricha sprang to light:And she, a constant plague and pest,These two fair realms has long distressed.Now dwelling in her dark abodeA league away she bars the road:And we, O Ráma, hence must goWhere lies the forest of the foe.Now on thine own right arm rely, And my command obey:Smite the foul monster that she die. And take the plague away.To reach this country none may dare Fallen from its old estate,Which she, whose fury naught can bear, Has left so desolate.And now my truthful tale is told How with accursed swayThe spirit plagued this wood of old, And ceases not to-day.'
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Footnotes38:1 The Bodiless one.
38:1b 'A celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty region between the northern highlands of the Himalayas and mount Kailása, the region of the sacred lakes. The poem, following the popular Indian belief, makes the river Sarayú (now Sarjú) flow from the Mánasa lake; the sources of the river are a little to the south about a day's journey from the lake. See Lassen, Indische Alterthumsbunde, page 34.' GORBESIO. Manas means mind; mánasa, mental, mind-born.
38:2b Sarovar means best of lakes. This is another of the poet's fanciful etymologies.
38:3b The confluence of two or more rivers is often a venerated and holy place. The most famous is Prayág or Allahabad, where the Sarasvatí by an underground course is believed to join the Jumna and the Ganges.
39:1 The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea Tormentosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia Suaveolens, Aegle Marmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted the Kutaja (Echites) and the Tinduka (Diospyrus).
39:2 Here we meet with a fresh myth to account for the name of these regions. Malaja is probably a non-Aryan word signifying a hilly country: taken as a Sanskrit compound it means sprung from defilement. The word Karúsha appears to have a somewhat similar meaning.
CANTO XXVII.:
Nor did the saint their rede reject:He bade farewell with due respect,And crossed, attended by the twain,That river rushing to the main.When now the bark was half way o'er,Ráma and Lakshman heard the roar,
That louder grew and louder yet,Of waves by dashing waters met.Then Ráma asked the mighty seer:'What is the tumult that I hearOf waters cleft in mid career?'Soon as the speech of Ráma, stirredBy deep desire to know, he heard,The pious saint began to tellWhat paused the waters' roar and swell:'On high Kailása's distant hill There lies a noble lakeWhose waters, born from Brahmá's will, The name of Mánas 1b take.Thence, hallowing where'er they flow, The streams of Sarjú fall,And wandering through the plains below Embrace Ayodhyá's wall.Still, still preserved in Sarjú's name Sarovar's 2b fame we trace.The flood of Brahma whence she came To run her holy race.To meet great Gangá here she hies With tributary wave:Hence the loud roar ye hear arise, Of floods that swell and rave.Here, pride of Raghu's line, do thouIn humble adoration bow.'
He spoke. The princes both obeyed,And reverence to each river paid. 3bThey reached the southern shore at last,And gaily on their journey passed.A little space beyond there stoodA gloomy awe-inspiring wood.The monarch's noble son beganTo question thus the holy man:'Whose gloomy forest meets mine eyeLike some vast cloud that fills the sky?Pathless and dark it seems to be,Where birds in thousands wander free;Where shrill cicadas' cries resound,
And fowl of dismal note abound,Lion, rhinoceros, and bear,Boar, tiger, elephant, are there, There shrubs and thorns run wild:Dháo, Sál, Bignonia, Bel, 1 are found,And every tree that grows on ground. How is the forest styled?'The glorious saint this answer made: 'Dear child of Raghu, hearWho dwells within the horrid shade That looks so dark and drear.Where now is wood, long ere this day Two broad and fertile lands,Malaja and Karúsha lay. Adorned by heavenly hands.Here, mourning friendship's broken ties,Lord Indra of the thousand eyesHungered and sorrowed many a day,His brightness soiled with mud and clay,When in a storm of passion heHad slain his dear friend Namuchi.Then came the Gods and saints who boreTheir golden pitchers brimming o'erWith holy streams that banish stain,And bathed Lord Indra pure again.When in this land the God was freedFrom spot and stain of impious deedFor that his own dear friend he slew,High transport thrilled his bosom through.Then in his joy the lands he blessed,And gave a boon they long possessed:'Because these fertile lands retainThe washings of the blot and stain,' 'Twas thus Lord Indra sware,'Malaja and Karúsha's nameShall celebrate with deathless fame My malady and care.' 2'So be it', all the Immortals cried, When Indra's speech they heard,And with acclaim they ratified The names his lips conferred.Long time, O victor of thy foes,These happy lands had sweet repose,And higher still in fortune rose.At length a spirit, loving ill,Tádaká , wearing shapes at will,
Whose mighty strength, exceeding vastA thousand elephants, surpassed,Was to fierce Sunda, lord and headOf all the demon armies, wed.From her, Lord Indra's peer in mightGiant Máricha sprang to light:And she, a constant plague and pest,These two fair realms has long distressed.Now dwelling in her dark abodeA league away she bars the road:And we, O Ráma, hence must goWhere lies the forest of the foe.Now on thine own right arm rely, And my command obey:Smite the foul monster that she die. And take the plague away.To reach this country none may dare Fallen from its old estate,Which she, whose fury naught can bear, Has left so desolate.And now my truthful tale is told How with accursed swayThe spirit plagued this wood of old, And ceases not to-day.'
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Footnotes38:1 The Bodiless one.
38:1b 'A celebrated lake regarded in India as sacred. It lies in the lofty region between the northern highlands of the Himalayas and mount Kailása, the region of the sacred lakes. The poem, following the popular Indian belief, makes the river Sarayú (now Sarjú) flow from the Mánasa lake; the sources of the river are a little to the south about a day's journey from the lake. See Lassen, Indische Alterthumsbunde, page 34.' GORBESIO. Manas means mind; mánasa, mental, mind-born.
38:2b Sarovar means best of lakes. This is another of the poet's fanciful etymologies.
38:3b The confluence of two or more rivers is often a venerated and holy place. The most famous is Prayág or Allahabad, where the Sarasvatí by an underground course is believed to join the Jumna and the Ganges.
39:1 The botanical names of the trees mentioned in the text are Grislea Tormentosa, Shorea Robusta, Echites Antidysenterica, Bignonia Suaveolens, Aegle Marmelos, and Diospyrus Glutinosa. I have omitted the Kutaja (Echites) and the Tinduka (Diospyrus).
39:2 Here we meet with a fresh myth to account for the name of these regions. Malaja is probably a non-Aryan word signifying a hilly country: taken as a Sanskrit compound it means sprung from defilement. The word Karúsha appears to have a somewhat similar meaning.
CANTO XXVII.:
THE BIRTH OF TÁDAKÁ.When thus the sage without a peerHad closed that story strange to hear.Ráma again the saint addressedTo set one lingering doubt at rest:'O holy man, 'tis said by allThat spirits' strength is weak and small:How can she match, of power so slight,A thousand elephants in might?'And Vis'vámitra thus repliedTo Raghu's son the glorified:'Listen, and I will tell thee howShe gained the strength that arms her now.A mighty spirit lived of yore;Suketu was the name he bore.Childless was he, and free from crimeIn rites austere he passed his time.The mighty Sire was pleased to showHis favour, and a child bestow.Tádaká named, most fair to see.A pearl among the maids was she.And matched, for such was Brahmá's dower,A thousand elephants in power.Nor would the Eternal Sire, althoughThe spirit longed, a son bestow.That maid in beauty's youthful prideWas given to Sunda for a bride.Her son, Máricha was his name,A giant, through a curse, became.She, widowed, dared with him molest
Agastya, 1 of all saints the best.Inflamed with hunger's wildest rage,Roaring she rushed upon the sage.When the great hermit saw her near,On speeding in her fierce career,He thus pronounced Márícha's doom:'A giant's form and shape assume.'And then, by mighty anger swayed,On Tádaká this curse he laid:'Thy present form and semblance quit,And wear a shape thy mood to fit;Changed form and feature by my ban.A fearful thing that feeds on man.'
She, by his awful curse possessed,And mad with rage that fills her breast,Has on this land her fury dealtWhere once the saint Agastya dwelt.Go, Ráma, smite this monster dead,The wicked plague, of power so dread,And further by this deed of thine,The good of Bráhmans and of kine,Thy hand alone can overthrow,In all the worlds, this impious foe.Nor let compassion lead thy mindTo shrink from blood of womankind;A monarch's son must ever countThe people's welfare paramount.And whether pain or joy he dealDare all things for his subjects' weal;Yea, if the deed bring praise or guilt,If life be saved or blood be spilt:Such, through all time, should be the careOf those a kingdom's weight who bear.Slay, Ráma, slay this impious fiend,For by no law her life is screened.So Manthará, as bards have told,Virochan's child, was slain of oldBy Indra, when in furious hateShe longed the earth to devastate.So Kávya's mother, Bhrigu's wife,Who loved her husband as her life,When Indra's throne she sought to gain,By Vishnu's hand of yore was slain.By these and high-souled kings beside,Struck down, have lawless women died.'
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Footnotes40:1 'This is one of those indefinable mythic personages who are found in the ancient traditions of many nations, and in whom cosmogonical or astronomical notions are generally figured. Thus it is related of Agastya that the Vindhyan mountains prostrated themselves before him; and yet the same Agastya is believed to be regent of the star Canopus,' --GORRESIO.
He will appear as the friend and helper of Ráma farther on in the poem.
CANTO XXVIII.:
Agastya, 1 of all saints the best.Inflamed with hunger's wildest rage,Roaring she rushed upon the sage.When the great hermit saw her near,On speeding in her fierce career,He thus pronounced Márícha's doom:'A giant's form and shape assume.'And then, by mighty anger swayed,On Tádaká this curse he laid:'Thy present form and semblance quit,And wear a shape thy mood to fit;Changed form and feature by my ban.A fearful thing that feeds on man.'
She, by his awful curse possessed,And mad with rage that fills her breast,Has on this land her fury dealtWhere once the saint Agastya dwelt.Go, Ráma, smite this monster dead,The wicked plague, of power so dread,And further by this deed of thine,The good of Bráhmans and of kine,Thy hand alone can overthrow,In all the worlds, this impious foe.Nor let compassion lead thy mindTo shrink from blood of womankind;A monarch's son must ever countThe people's welfare paramount.And whether pain or joy he dealDare all things for his subjects' weal;Yea, if the deed bring praise or guilt,If life be saved or blood be spilt:Such, through all time, should be the careOf those a kingdom's weight who bear.Slay, Ráma, slay this impious fiend,For by no law her life is screened.So Manthará, as bards have told,Virochan's child, was slain of oldBy Indra, when in furious hateShe longed the earth to devastate.So Kávya's mother, Bhrigu's wife,Who loved her husband as her life,When Indra's throne she sought to gain,By Vishnu's hand of yore was slain.By these and high-souled kings beside,Struck down, have lawless women died.'
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Footnotes40:1 'This is one of those indefinable mythic personages who are found in the ancient traditions of many nations, and in whom cosmogonical or astronomical notions are generally figured. Thus it is related of Agastya that the Vindhyan mountains prostrated themselves before him; and yet the same Agastya is believed to be regent of the star Canopus,' --GORRESIO.
He will appear as the friend and helper of Ráma farther on in the poem.
CANTO XXVIII.:
THE DEATH OF TÁDAKÁThus spoke the saint. Each vigorous wordThe noble monarch's offspring heard,And, reverent hands together laid,His answer to the hermit made:'My sire and mother bade me ayeThy word, O mighty Saint, obeySo will I, O most glorious, killThis Tádaká who joys in ill,For such my sire's, and such thy will.To aid with mine avenging handThe Bráhmans, kine, and all the land,Obedient, heart and soul, I stand.'
Thus spoke the tamer of the foe,And by the middle grasped his bow.Strongly he drew the sounding stringThat made the distant welkin ring.Scared by the mighty clang the deerThat roamed the forest shook with fear.And Tádaká the echo heard,And rose in haste from slumber stirred.In wild amaze, her soul aflameWith fury toward the spot she came.When that foul shape of evil mienAnd stature vast as e'er was seenThe wrathful son of Raghu eyed,He thus unto his brother cried:'Her dreadful shape, O Lakshman, see,A form to shudder at and flee.The hideous monster's very viewWould cleave a timid heart in two.Behold the demon hard to smite,Defended by her magic might.My hand shall stay her course to-day,And shear her nose and ears away.No heart have I her life to take:I spare it for her sex's sake.My will is but, with 'minished force,To check her in her evil course.'While thus he spoke, by rage impelled Roaring as she came nigh,The fiend her course at Ráma held With huge arms tossed on high.Her, rushing on, the seer assailed With a loud cry of hate;And thus the sons of Raghu hailed: 'Fight, and be fortunate.'Then from the earth a horrid cloud Of dust the demon raised,And for awhile in darkling shroud Wrapt Raghu's sons amazed.Then calling on her magic power The fearful fight to wage,She smote him with a stony shower, Till Ráma burned with rage.Then pouring forth his arrowy rain That stony flood to stay,
With winged darts, as she charged amain, He shore her hands away.As Tádaká still thundered near Thus maimed by Ráma's blows,Lakshman in fury severed sheer The monster's ears and nose.Assuming by her magic skill, A fresh and fresh disguise,She tried a thousand shapes at will, Then vanished from their eyes.When Gádhi's son of high renownStill saw the stony rain pour downUpon each princely warrior's head,With words of wisdom thus he said:'Enough of mercy, Ráma, lestThis sinful evil-working pest,Disturber of each holy rite,Repair by magic arts her might.Without delay the fiend should die,For, see, the twilight hour is nigh.And at the joints of night and daySuch giant foes are hard to slay.'Then Ráma, skilful to direct His arrow to the sound,With shafts the mighty demon checked Who rained her stones around.She sore impeded and besetBy Ráma and his arrowy net,Though skilled in guile and magic lore,Rushed on the brothers with a roar.Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread,Swift as the levin on she sped,Like cloudy pile in autumn's sky,Lifting her two vast arms on high,When Ráma smote her with a dart,Shaped like a crescent, to the heart.Sore wounded by the shaft that cameWith lightning speed and surest aim,Blood spouting from her mouth and side.She fell upon the earth and died.Soon as the Lord who rules the skySaw the dread monster lifeless lie,He called aloud, Well done! well done!And the Gods honoured Raghu's son.Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed,With all the Immortals, joying cried:'Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and seeThe Gods and Indra nigh to thee.This deed of Ráma's boundless mightHas filled our bosoms with delight,Now, for our will would have it so,To Raghu's son some favour show.Invest him with the power which naughtBut penance gains and holy thought,Those heavenly arms on him bestowTo thee entrusted long agoBy great Krisás'va best of kings,Son of the Lord of living things,More fit recipient none can beThan he who joys it following theeAnd for our sakes the monarch's seedHas yet to do a mighty deed.'
He spoke; and all the heavenly trainRejoicing sought their homes again,While honour to the saint they paid.Then came the evening's twilight shade,The best of hermits overjoyedTo know the monstrous fiend destroyed,His lips on Ráma's forehead pressed,And thus the conquering chief addressed:'O Ráma gracious to the sight.Here will we pass the present night,And with the morrow's earliest rayBend to my hermitage our way.'The son of Das'aratha heard,Delighted, Vis'vámitra's word,And as he bade, that night he spentIn Tádaká's wild wood, content.And the grove shone that happy day,Freed from the curse that on it lay,Like Chaitraratha 1 fair and gay.
CANTO XXIX.
Thus spoke the tamer of the foe,And by the middle grasped his bow.Strongly he drew the sounding stringThat made the distant welkin ring.Scared by the mighty clang the deerThat roamed the forest shook with fear.And Tádaká the echo heard,And rose in haste from slumber stirred.In wild amaze, her soul aflameWith fury toward the spot she came.When that foul shape of evil mienAnd stature vast as e'er was seenThe wrathful son of Raghu eyed,He thus unto his brother cried:'Her dreadful shape, O Lakshman, see,A form to shudder at and flee.The hideous monster's very viewWould cleave a timid heart in two.Behold the demon hard to smite,Defended by her magic might.My hand shall stay her course to-day,And shear her nose and ears away.No heart have I her life to take:I spare it for her sex's sake.My will is but, with 'minished force,To check her in her evil course.'While thus he spoke, by rage impelled Roaring as she came nigh,The fiend her course at Ráma held With huge arms tossed on high.Her, rushing on, the seer assailed With a loud cry of hate;And thus the sons of Raghu hailed: 'Fight, and be fortunate.'Then from the earth a horrid cloud Of dust the demon raised,And for awhile in darkling shroud Wrapt Raghu's sons amazed.Then calling on her magic power The fearful fight to wage,She smote him with a stony shower, Till Ráma burned with rage.Then pouring forth his arrowy rain That stony flood to stay,
With winged darts, as she charged amain, He shore her hands away.As Tádaká still thundered near Thus maimed by Ráma's blows,Lakshman in fury severed sheer The monster's ears and nose.Assuming by her magic skill, A fresh and fresh disguise,She tried a thousand shapes at will, Then vanished from their eyes.When Gádhi's son of high renownStill saw the stony rain pour downUpon each princely warrior's head,With words of wisdom thus he said:'Enough of mercy, Ráma, lestThis sinful evil-working pest,Disturber of each holy rite,Repair by magic arts her might.Without delay the fiend should die,For, see, the twilight hour is nigh.And at the joints of night and daySuch giant foes are hard to slay.'Then Ráma, skilful to direct His arrow to the sound,With shafts the mighty demon checked Who rained her stones around.She sore impeded and besetBy Ráma and his arrowy net,Though skilled in guile and magic lore,Rushed on the brothers with a roar.Deformed, terrific, murderous, dread,Swift as the levin on she sped,Like cloudy pile in autumn's sky,Lifting her two vast arms on high,When Ráma smote her with a dart,Shaped like a crescent, to the heart.Sore wounded by the shaft that cameWith lightning speed and surest aim,Blood spouting from her mouth and side.She fell upon the earth and died.Soon as the Lord who rules the skySaw the dread monster lifeless lie,He called aloud, Well done! well done!And the Gods honoured Raghu's son.Standing in heaven the Thousand-eyed,With all the Immortals, joying cried:'Lift up thine eyes, O Saint, and seeThe Gods and Indra nigh to thee.This deed of Ráma's boundless mightHas filled our bosoms with delight,Now, for our will would have it so,To Raghu's son some favour show.Invest him with the power which naughtBut penance gains and holy thought,Those heavenly arms on him bestowTo thee entrusted long agoBy great Krisás'va best of kings,Son of the Lord of living things,More fit recipient none can beThan he who joys it following theeAnd for our sakes the monarch's seedHas yet to do a mighty deed.'
He spoke; and all the heavenly trainRejoicing sought their homes again,While honour to the saint they paid.Then came the evening's twilight shade,The best of hermits overjoyedTo know the monstrous fiend destroyed,His lips on Ráma's forehead pressed,And thus the conquering chief addressed:'O Ráma gracious to the sight.Here will we pass the present night,And with the morrow's earliest rayBend to my hermitage our way.'The son of Das'aratha heard,Delighted, Vis'vámitra's word,And as he bade, that night he spentIn Tádaká's wild wood, content.And the grove shone that happy day,Freed from the curse that on it lay,Like Chaitraratha 1 fair and gay.
CANTO XXIX.
2: THE CELESTIAL ARMS.That night they slept and took their rest;And then the mighty saint addressed,With pleasant smile and accents mildThese words to Raghu's princely child:'Well pleased am I. High fate be thine,Thou scion of a royal line.Now will I, for I love thee so,All heavenly arms on thee bestow.Victor with these, whoe'er oppose,Thy hand shall conquer all thy foes,Though Gods and spirits of the air,Serpents and fiends, the conflict dare.I'll give thee as a pledge of loreThe mystic arms they use above,For worthy thou to have revealedThe weapons I have learnt to wield.
First, son of Raghu, shall be thineThe arm of Vengeance, strong, divine:The arm of Fate, the arm of Right,And Vishnu's arm of awful might:That, before whioh no foe can stand,The thunderbolt of Indra's hand;And S'iva's trident, sharp and dread,And that dire weapon Brahmá's Head,And two fair clubs, O royal child,One Charmer and one Pointed styledWith flame of lambent fire aglow,On thee, O Chieftain, I bestow.And Fate's dread net and Justice' nooseThat none may conquer, for thy use:And the great cord, renowned of old,Which Varun ever loves to hold.Take these two thunderbolts, which IHave got for thee, the Moist and Dry,Here S'iva's dart to thee I yield,And that which Vishnu wont to wield.I give to thee the arm of Fire,Desired by all and named the Spire.To thee I grant the Wind-God's dart,Named Crusher, O thou pure of heart.This arm, the Horse's Head, accept,And this, the Curlew's Bill yclept,And these two spears, the best e'er flew,Named the Invincible and True.And arms of fiends I make thine own,Skull-wreath and mace that smashes bone.And Joyous, whioh the spirits bear,Great weapon of the sons of air.Brave offspring of the best of lords,I give thee now the Gem of swords,And offer next, thine hand to arm,The heavenly bards' beloved charm.Now with two arms I thee investOf never-ending Sleep and Rest,With weapons of the Sun and Rain,And those that dry and burn amain;And strong Desire with conquering touch,The dart that Káma prizes much.I give the arm of shadowy powersThat bleeding flesh of men devours.I give the arms the God of GoldAnd giant fiends exult to hold.This smites the foe in battle-strife,And takes his fortune, strength, and life.I give the arms called False and True,And great Illusion give I too;The hero's arm called Strong and BrightThat spoils the foeman's strength in fight.I give thee as a priceless boonThe Dew, the weapon of the Moon,And add the weapon, deftly planned,That strengthens Vis'vakarmá's hand.The Mortal dart whose point is chill,And Slaughter, ever sure to kill;All these and other arms, for thouArt very dear, I give thee now.Receive these weapons from my hand,Son of the noblest in the land.'
Facing the east, the glorious saintPure from all spot of earthly taint,To Ráma, with delighted mind,That noble host of spells consigned.He taught the arms, whose lore is wonHardly by Gods, to Raghu's son.He muttered low the spell whose callSummons those arms and rules them allAnd, each in visible form and frame,Before the monarch's son they came.They stood and spoke in reverent guiseTo Ráma with exulting cries:'O noblest child of Raghu, see,Thy ministers and thralls are we.' With joyful heart and eager handRáma received the wondrous band,And thus with words of welcome cried:'Aye present to my will abide.'Then hasted to the saint to payDue reverence, and pursued his way.
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Footnotes41:1 The famous pleasure-garden of Kuvera the God of Wealth.
41:2 'The whole of this Canto together with the following one, regards the belief, formerly prevalent in India, that by virtue of certain spells, to be learnt and muttered, secret knowledge and superhuman powers might be acquired. To this the poet has already alluded in Canto xxiii. These incorporeal weapons are partly represented according to the fashion of those ascribed to the Gods and the different orders of demi-gods, partly are the mere creations of fancy; and it would not be easy to say what idea the poet had of them in his own mind, or what powers he meant to assign to each.' SCHLEGEL.
CANTO XXX.:
First, son of Raghu, shall be thineThe arm of Vengeance, strong, divine:The arm of Fate, the arm of Right,And Vishnu's arm of awful might:That, before whioh no foe can stand,The thunderbolt of Indra's hand;And S'iva's trident, sharp and dread,And that dire weapon Brahmá's Head,And two fair clubs, O royal child,One Charmer and one Pointed styledWith flame of lambent fire aglow,On thee, O Chieftain, I bestow.And Fate's dread net and Justice' nooseThat none may conquer, for thy use:And the great cord, renowned of old,Which Varun ever loves to hold.Take these two thunderbolts, which IHave got for thee, the Moist and Dry,Here S'iva's dart to thee I yield,And that which Vishnu wont to wield.I give to thee the arm of Fire,Desired by all and named the Spire.To thee I grant the Wind-God's dart,Named Crusher, O thou pure of heart.This arm, the Horse's Head, accept,And this, the Curlew's Bill yclept,And these two spears, the best e'er flew,Named the Invincible and True.And arms of fiends I make thine own,Skull-wreath and mace that smashes bone.And Joyous, whioh the spirits bear,Great weapon of the sons of air.Brave offspring of the best of lords,I give thee now the Gem of swords,And offer next, thine hand to arm,The heavenly bards' beloved charm.Now with two arms I thee investOf never-ending Sleep and Rest,With weapons of the Sun and Rain,And those that dry and burn amain;And strong Desire with conquering touch,The dart that Káma prizes much.I give the arm of shadowy powersThat bleeding flesh of men devours.I give the arms the God of GoldAnd giant fiends exult to hold.This smites the foe in battle-strife,And takes his fortune, strength, and life.I give the arms called False and True,And great Illusion give I too;The hero's arm called Strong and BrightThat spoils the foeman's strength in fight.I give thee as a priceless boonThe Dew, the weapon of the Moon,And add the weapon, deftly planned,That strengthens Vis'vakarmá's hand.The Mortal dart whose point is chill,And Slaughter, ever sure to kill;All these and other arms, for thouArt very dear, I give thee now.Receive these weapons from my hand,Son of the noblest in the land.'
Facing the east, the glorious saintPure from all spot of earthly taint,To Ráma, with delighted mind,That noble host of spells consigned.He taught the arms, whose lore is wonHardly by Gods, to Raghu's son.He muttered low the spell whose callSummons those arms and rules them allAnd, each in visible form and frame,Before the monarch's son they came.They stood and spoke in reverent guiseTo Ráma with exulting cries:'O noblest child of Raghu, see,Thy ministers and thralls are we.' With joyful heart and eager handRáma received the wondrous band,And thus with words of welcome cried:'Aye present to my will abide.'Then hasted to the saint to payDue reverence, and pursued his way.
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Footnotes41:1 The famous pleasure-garden of Kuvera the God of Wealth.
41:2 'The whole of this Canto together with the following one, regards the belief, formerly prevalent in India, that by virtue of certain spells, to be learnt and muttered, secret knowledge and superhuman powers might be acquired. To this the poet has already alluded in Canto xxiii. These incorporeal weapons are partly represented according to the fashion of those ascribed to the Gods and the different orders of demi-gods, partly are the mere creations of fancy; and it would not be easy to say what idea the poet had of them in his own mind, or what powers he meant to assign to each.' SCHLEGEL.
CANTO XXX.:
THE MYSTERIOUS POWERS. 1Pure, with glad cheer and joyful breast,Of those mysterious arms possessed,Ráma, now passing on his way,Thus to the saint began to say:'Lord of these mighty weapons, ICan scarce be harmed by Gods on high;Now, best of saints, I long to gainThe powers that can these arms restrain.'Thus spoke the prince. The sage austere,True to his vows, from evil clear,Called forth the names of those great charmsWhose powers restrain the deadly arms,Receive thou True and Truly famed,And Bold and Fleet: the weapons named
Warder and Progress, swift of pace,Averted-head and Drooping-face;The Seen, and that which Secret flies;The weapon of the thousand eyes;Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced,Star-gazer and the Layer-waste:The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,The pair that wake and slumber not:The Fiendish, that which shakes amain,The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain:The Guardian, and the Close-allied,The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side;O Raghu's son receive all these,Bright ones that wear what forms they please;Kris'ásva's mystic sons are they,And worthy thou their might to sway.'With joy the pride of Raghu's raceReceived the hermit's proffered grace,Mysterious arms, to check and stay,Or smite the foeman in the fray.Then, all with heavenly forms endued,Nigh came the wondrous multitude.Celestial in their bright attireSome shone like coals of burning fire;Some were like clouds of dusky smoke;And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:'Thy thralls, O Ráma, here we stand:Command, we pray, thy faithful band''Depart,' he cried, 'where each may list,But when I call you to assist,Be present to my mind with speed,And aid me in the hour of need.'
To Ráma then they lowly bent,And round him in due reverence went.To his command, they answered, Yea,And as they came so went away.When thus the arms had homeward flown,With pleasant words and modest tone,E'en as he walked, the prince beganTo question thus the holy man:'What cloudlike wood is that which nearThe mountain's side I see appear?O tell me, for I long to know;Its pleasant aspect charms me so.Its glades are full of deer at play,And sweet birds sing on every spray,Past is the hideous wild; I feelSo sweet a tremor o'er me steal,And hail with transport fresh and newA land that is so fair to view.Then tell me all, thou holy Sage,And whose this pleasant hermitageIn which those wicked ones delightTo mar and kill each holy rite.And with foul heart and evil deedThy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.To whom, O Sage, belongs this landIn which thine altars ready stand!'Tis mine to guard them, and to slayThe giants who the rites would stay.All this, O best of saints, I burnFrom thine own lips, my lord, to learn.'
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Footnotes42:1 In Sanskrit Sankára, a word which has various significations but the primary meaning of which is the act of seizing. A magical power seems to be implied of employing the weapons when and where required. The remarks I have made on the preceding Canto apply with still greater force to this. The MSS. greatly vary in the enumeration of these Sankáras, and it is not surprising that copyists have incorrectly written the names which they did not well understand. The commentators throw no light upon the subject.' SCHLEGEL. I have taken the liberty of omitting four of these which Schlegel translates 'Sclerom* balum, Euomphalium, Cantiventrem, and Chrysomphalum.'
CANTO XXXI:
Warder and Progress, swift of pace,Averted-head and Drooping-face;The Seen, and that which Secret flies;The weapon of the thousand eyes;Ten-headed, and the Hundred-faced,Star-gazer and the Layer-waste:The Omen-bird, the Pure-from-spot,The pair that wake and slumber not:The Fiendish, that which shakes amain,The Strong-of-Hand, the Rich-in-Gain:The Guardian, and the Close-allied,The Gaper, Love, and Golden-side;O Raghu's son receive all these,Bright ones that wear what forms they please;Kris'ásva's mystic sons are they,And worthy thou their might to sway.'With joy the pride of Raghu's raceReceived the hermit's proffered grace,Mysterious arms, to check and stay,Or smite the foeman in the fray.Then, all with heavenly forms endued,Nigh came the wondrous multitude.Celestial in their bright attireSome shone like coals of burning fire;Some were like clouds of dusky smoke;And suppliant thus they sweetly spoke:'Thy thralls, O Ráma, here we stand:Command, we pray, thy faithful band''Depart,' he cried, 'where each may list,But when I call you to assist,Be present to my mind with speed,And aid me in the hour of need.'
To Ráma then they lowly bent,And round him in due reverence went.To his command, they answered, Yea,And as they came so went away.When thus the arms had homeward flown,With pleasant words and modest tone,E'en as he walked, the prince beganTo question thus the holy man:'What cloudlike wood is that which nearThe mountain's side I see appear?O tell me, for I long to know;Its pleasant aspect charms me so.Its glades are full of deer at play,And sweet birds sing on every spray,Past is the hideous wild; I feelSo sweet a tremor o'er me steal,And hail with transport fresh and newA land that is so fair to view.Then tell me all, thou holy Sage,And whose this pleasant hermitageIn which those wicked ones delightTo mar and kill each holy rite.And with foul heart and evil deedThy sacrifice, great Saint, impede.To whom, O Sage, belongs this landIn which thine altars ready stand!'Tis mine to guard them, and to slayThe giants who the rites would stay.All this, O best of saints, I burnFrom thine own lips, my lord, to learn.'
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Footnotes42:1 In Sanskrit Sankára, a word which has various significations but the primary meaning of which is the act of seizing. A magical power seems to be implied of employing the weapons when and where required. The remarks I have made on the preceding Canto apply with still greater force to this. The MSS. greatly vary in the enumeration of these Sankáras, and it is not surprising that copyists have incorrectly written the names which they did not well understand. The commentators throw no light upon the subject.' SCHLEGEL. I have taken the liberty of omitting four of these which Schlegel translates 'Sclerom* balum, Euomphalium, Cantiventrem, and Chrysomphalum.'
CANTO XXXI:
THE PERFECT HERMITAGE.Thus spoke the prince of boundless might,And thus replied the anchorite:'Chief of the mighty arm, of yoreLord Vishnu whom the Gods adore,For holy thought and rites austereOf penance made his dwelling here.This ancient wood was called of oldGrave of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled,And when perfection he attainedThe grove the name of Perfect gained.Bali of yore, Virochan's son,Dominion over Indra won,And when with power his proud heart swelled,O'er the three worlds his empire held.When Bali then began a rite,The Gods and Indra in affrightSought Vishnu in this place of rest,And thus with prayers the God addressed:'Bali, Virochan's mighty son,His sacrifice has now begun:Of boundless wealth, that demon kingIs bounteous to each living thing.Though suppliants flock from every sideThe suit of none is e'er denied.Whate'er, where'er, howe'er the call,He hears the suit and gives to all.Now with thine own illusive artPerform, O Lord, the helper's part:Assume a dwarfish form, and thusFrom fear and danger rescue us.' 1
Thus in their dread the Immortals sued:The God a dwarflike shape indued: 2Before Virochan's son he came,Three steps of land his only claim.The boon obtained, in wondrous wiseLord Vishnu's form increased in size;Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast,God of the Triple Step, he passed. 3The whole broad earth from side to sideHe measured with one mighty stride,Spanned with the next the firmament,And with the third through heaven he went.
Thus was the king of demons hurledBy Vishnu to the nether world,And thus the universe restoredTo Indra's rule, its ancient lord.And now because the immortal GodThis spot in dwarflike semblance trod,The grove has aye been loved by meFor reverence of the devotee.But demons haunt it, prompt to stayEach holy offering I would pay.Be thine, O lion-lord, to killThese giants that delight in ill.This day, beloved child, our feetShall rest within the calm retreat:And know, thou chief of Raghu's line,My hermitage is also thine.' He spoke; and soon the anchorite,With joyous looks that beamed delight,With Ráma and his brother stoodWithin the consecrated wood.Soon as they saw the holy man,With one accord together ranThe dwellers in the sacred shade,And to the saint their reverence paid,And offered water for his feet,The gift of honour and a seat;And next with hospitable careThey entertained the princely pair.The royal tamers of their foesRested awhile in sweet repose:Then to the chief of hermits suedStanding in suppliant attitude:'Begin, O best of saints, we pray,Initiatory rites to-day.This Perfect Grove shall be anewMade perfect, and thy words be true.' Then, thus addressed, the holy man,The very glorious sage, beganThe high preliminary rite.Restraining sense and appetite.Calmly the youths that night reposed,And rose when morn her light disclosed,Their morning worship paid, and tookOf lustral water from the brook.Thus purified they breathed the prayer,Then greeted Vis'vamítra whereAs celebrant he sate besideThe flame with sacred oil supplied.
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Footnotes43:1 I omit, after this line, eight s'lokas which, as Schlegel allows, are quite out of place.
43:2 This is the fifth of the avatárs, descents or incarnations of Vishnu.
43:3 This is a solar allegory. Vishnu is the sun, the three steps being his rising, culmination, and setting.
CANTO XXXII.:
Thus in their dread the Immortals sued:The God a dwarflike shape indued: 2Before Virochan's son he came,Three steps of land his only claim.The boon obtained, in wondrous wiseLord Vishnu's form increased in size;Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast,God of the Triple Step, he passed. 3The whole broad earth from side to sideHe measured with one mighty stride,Spanned with the next the firmament,And with the third through heaven he went.
Thus was the king of demons hurledBy Vishnu to the nether world,And thus the universe restoredTo Indra's rule, its ancient lord.And now because the immortal GodThis spot in dwarflike semblance trod,The grove has aye been loved by meFor reverence of the devotee.But demons haunt it, prompt to stayEach holy offering I would pay.Be thine, O lion-lord, to killThese giants that delight in ill.This day, beloved child, our feetShall rest within the calm retreat:And know, thou chief of Raghu's line,My hermitage is also thine.' He spoke; and soon the anchorite,With joyous looks that beamed delight,With Ráma and his brother stoodWithin the consecrated wood.Soon as they saw the holy man,With one accord together ranThe dwellers in the sacred shade,And to the saint their reverence paid,And offered water for his feet,The gift of honour and a seat;And next with hospitable careThey entertained the princely pair.The royal tamers of their foesRested awhile in sweet repose:Then to the chief of hermits suedStanding in suppliant attitude:'Begin, O best of saints, we pray,Initiatory rites to-day.This Perfect Grove shall be anewMade perfect, and thy words be true.' Then, thus addressed, the holy man,The very glorious sage, beganThe high preliminary rite.Restraining sense and appetite.Calmly the youths that night reposed,And rose when morn her light disclosed,Their morning worship paid, and tookOf lustral water from the brook.Thus purified they breathed the prayer,Then greeted Vis'vamítra whereAs celebrant he sate besideThe flame with sacred oil supplied.
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Footnotes43:1 I omit, after this line, eight s'lokas which, as Schlegel allows, are quite out of place.
43:2 This is the fifth of the avatárs, descents or incarnations of Vishnu.
43:3 This is a solar allegory. Vishnu is the sun, the three steps being his rising, culmination, and setting.
CANTO XXXII.:
VIS'VÁMITRA'S SACRIFICE.That conquering pair, of royal race,Skilled to observe due time and place,To Kús'ik's hermit son addressed,In timely words, their meet request:'When must we, lord, we pray thee tell,Those Rovers of the Night repel?
Speak, lest we let the moment fly,And pass the due occasion by.'Thus longing for the strife, they prayed,And thus the hermits answer made:'Till the fifth day be come and past,O Raghu's sons, your watch must last,The saint his Dikshá 1 has begun,And all that time will speak to none.'Soon as the steadfast devoteesHad made reply in words like these,The youths began, disdaining sleep,Six days and nights their watch to keep.The warrior pair who tamed the foe,Unrivalled benders of the bow,Kept watch and ward unwearied stillTo guard the saint from scathe and ill.'Twas now the sixth returning day,The hour foretold had past away.Then Ráma cried: 'O Lakshman, nowFirm, watchful, resolute be thou.The fiends as yet have kept afarFrom the pure grove in which we are;Yet waits us, ere the day shall close,Dire battle with the demon foes.' While thus spoke Ráma borne awayBy longing for the deadly fray,See! bursting from the altar cameThe sudden glory of the flame.Round priest and deacon, and uponGrass, ladles, flowers, the splendour shone,And the high rite, in order due,With sacred texts began anew.But then a loud and fearful roar Re-echoed through the sky;And like vast clouds that shadow o'er The heavens in dark July,Involved in gloom of magic might Two fiends rushed on amain,Máricha, Rover of the Night, Suváhu, and their train.As on they came in wild career Thick blood in rain they shed;And Ráma saw those things of fear Impending overhead.Then soon as those accursed two Who showered down blood be spied,Thus to his brother brave and true Spoke Ráma lotus-eyed:'Now, Lakshman, thou these fiends shalt see, Man-eaters, foul of mind,Before my mortal weapon flee Like clouds before the wind.'He spoke. An arrow, swift as thought, Upon his bow he pressed,And smote, to utmost fury wrought, Máricha on the breast.Deep in his flesh the weapon lay Winged by the mystic spell,
And, hurled a hundred leagues away, In ocean's flood he fell.Then Ráma, when he saw the foe Convulsed and mad with pain'Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow, To Lakshman spoke again:'See, Lakshman, see! this mortal dart That strikes a numbing chill,Hath struck him senseless with the smart, But left him breathing still.But these who love the evil way, And drink the blood they spill,Rejoicing holy rites to stay, Fierce plagues, my hand shall kill.'He seized another shaft, the best, Aglow with living flame;It struck Suváhu on the chest, And dead to earth he came.Again a dart, the Wind-God's own, Upon his string he laid,And all the demons were o'erthrown, The saints no more afraid.When thus the fiends were slain in fight,Disturbers of each holy rite,Due honour by the saints was paidTo Ráma for his wondrous aid:So Indra is adored when heHas won some glorious victory.Success at last the rite had crowned,And Visvámitra gazed around,And seeing every side at rest,The son of Raghu thus addressed:'My joy, O Prince, is now complete: Thou hast obeyed my will:Perfect before, this calm retreat Is now more perfect still.'
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Footnotes44:1 Certain ceremonies preliminary to sacrifice.
CANTO XXXIII.:
Speak, lest we let the moment fly,And pass the due occasion by.'Thus longing for the strife, they prayed,And thus the hermits answer made:'Till the fifth day be come and past,O Raghu's sons, your watch must last,The saint his Dikshá 1 has begun,And all that time will speak to none.'Soon as the steadfast devoteesHad made reply in words like these,The youths began, disdaining sleep,Six days and nights their watch to keep.The warrior pair who tamed the foe,Unrivalled benders of the bow,Kept watch and ward unwearied stillTo guard the saint from scathe and ill.'Twas now the sixth returning day,The hour foretold had past away.Then Ráma cried: 'O Lakshman, nowFirm, watchful, resolute be thou.The fiends as yet have kept afarFrom the pure grove in which we are;Yet waits us, ere the day shall close,Dire battle with the demon foes.' While thus spoke Ráma borne awayBy longing for the deadly fray,See! bursting from the altar cameThe sudden glory of the flame.Round priest and deacon, and uponGrass, ladles, flowers, the splendour shone,And the high rite, in order due,With sacred texts began anew.But then a loud and fearful roar Re-echoed through the sky;And like vast clouds that shadow o'er The heavens in dark July,Involved in gloom of magic might Two fiends rushed on amain,Máricha, Rover of the Night, Suváhu, and their train.As on they came in wild career Thick blood in rain they shed;And Ráma saw those things of fear Impending overhead.Then soon as those accursed two Who showered down blood be spied,Thus to his brother brave and true Spoke Ráma lotus-eyed:'Now, Lakshman, thou these fiends shalt see, Man-eaters, foul of mind,Before my mortal weapon flee Like clouds before the wind.'He spoke. An arrow, swift as thought, Upon his bow he pressed,And smote, to utmost fury wrought, Máricha on the breast.Deep in his flesh the weapon lay Winged by the mystic spell,
And, hurled a hundred leagues away, In ocean's flood he fell.Then Ráma, when he saw the foe Convulsed and mad with pain'Neath the chill-pointed weapon's blow, To Lakshman spoke again:'See, Lakshman, see! this mortal dart That strikes a numbing chill,Hath struck him senseless with the smart, But left him breathing still.But these who love the evil way, And drink the blood they spill,Rejoicing holy rites to stay, Fierce plagues, my hand shall kill.'He seized another shaft, the best, Aglow with living flame;It struck Suváhu on the chest, And dead to earth he came.Again a dart, the Wind-God's own, Upon his string he laid,And all the demons were o'erthrown, The saints no more afraid.When thus the fiends were slain in fight,Disturbers of each holy rite,Due honour by the saints was paidTo Ráma for his wondrous aid:So Indra is adored when heHas won some glorious victory.Success at last the rite had crowned,And Visvámitra gazed around,And seeing every side at rest,The son of Raghu thus addressed:'My joy, O Prince, is now complete: Thou hast obeyed my will:Perfect before, this calm retreat Is now more perfect still.'
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Footnotes44:1 Certain ceremonies preliminary to sacrifice.
CANTO XXXIII.:
THE SONE.Their task achieved, the princes spentThat night with joy and full content.Ere yet the dawn was well displayedTheir morning rites they duly paid,And sought, while yet the light was faint,The hermits and the mighty saint.They greeted first that holy sireResplendent like the burning fire,And then with noble words beganTheir sweet speech to the sainted man:'Here stand, O Lord, thy servants true:Command what thou wouldst have us do.'The saints, by Vis'vámitra led,To Ráma thus in answer said:'Janak the king who rules the landOf fertile Mithilá has plannedA noble sacrifice, and weWill thither go the rite to see.Thou, Prince of men, with us shalt go,And there behold the wondrous bow,Terrific, vast, of matchless might,Which, splendid at the famous rite,The Gods assembled gave the king.No giant, fiend, or God can stringThat gem of bows, no heavenly bard:Then, sure, for man the task were hard.When lords of earth have longed to knowThe virtue of that wondrous bow,The strongest sons of kings in vainHave tried the mighty cord to strain.This famous bow thou there shalt view,And wondrous rites shalt witness too.The high-souled king who lords it o'erThe realm of Mithilá of yoreGained from the Gods this bow, the priceOf his imperial sacrifice.Won by the rite the glorious prizeStill in the royal palace lies,Laid up in oil of precious scentWith aloe-wood and incense blent.'
Then Ráma answering, Be it so,Made ready with the rest to go.The saint himself was now prepared,But ere beyond the grove he fared,He turned him and in words like theseAddressed the sylvan deities:'Farewell! each holy rite complete,I leave the hermits' perfect seat:To Gangá's northern shore I goBeneath Himálaya's peaks of snow.'With reverent steps he paced aroundThe limits of the holy ground,And then the mighty saint set forthAnd took his journey to the north.His pupils, deep in Scripture's page,Followed behind the holy sage,And servants from the sacred groveA hundred wains for convoy drove.The very birds that winged that air,The very deer that harboured there,Forsook the glade and leafy brakeAnd followed for the hermit's sake.They travelled far, till in the westThe sun was speeding to his rest,And made, their portioned journey o'er,Their halt on S'ona's 1 distant shore.The hermits bathed when sank the sun,And every rite was duly done,Oblations paid to Fire, and thenSate round their chief the holy men.Ráma and Lakshman lowly bowedIn reverence to the hermit crowd,And Ráma, having sate him downBefore the saint of pure renown,
With humble palms together laidHis eager supplication made:'What country, O my lord, is this,Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?Deign fully. O thou mighty Seer,To tell me, for I long to hear.'Moved by the prayer of Ráma, heTold forth the country's history.
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Footnotes45:1 A river which rises in Budelcund and falls into the Ganges near Patna. It is called also Hiranyabáhu, Golden-armed, and Hiranyaváha, Auriferous.
CANTO XXXIV.:
Then Ráma answering, Be it so,Made ready with the rest to go.The saint himself was now prepared,But ere beyond the grove he fared,He turned him and in words like theseAddressed the sylvan deities:'Farewell! each holy rite complete,I leave the hermits' perfect seat:To Gangá's northern shore I goBeneath Himálaya's peaks of snow.'With reverent steps he paced aroundThe limits of the holy ground,And then the mighty saint set forthAnd took his journey to the north.His pupils, deep in Scripture's page,Followed behind the holy sage,And servants from the sacred groveA hundred wains for convoy drove.The very birds that winged that air,The very deer that harboured there,Forsook the glade and leafy brakeAnd followed for the hermit's sake.They travelled far, till in the westThe sun was speeding to his rest,And made, their portioned journey o'er,Their halt on S'ona's 1 distant shore.The hermits bathed when sank the sun,And every rite was duly done,Oblations paid to Fire, and thenSate round their chief the holy men.Ráma and Lakshman lowly bowedIn reverence to the hermit crowd,And Ráma, having sate him downBefore the saint of pure renown,
With humble palms together laidHis eager supplication made:'What country, O my lord, is this,Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss?Deign fully. O thou mighty Seer,To tell me, for I long to hear.'Moved by the prayer of Ráma, heTold forth the country's history.
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Footnotes45:1 A river which rises in Budelcund and falls into the Ganges near Patna. It is called also Hiranyabáhu, Golden-armed, and Hiranyaváha, Auriferous.
CANTO XXXIV.:
BRAHMADATTA.'A king of Brahmá's seed who boreThe name of Kus'a reigned of yore.Just, faithful to his vows, and true,He held the good in honour due.His bride, a queen of noble name.Of old Vidarbha's 1 monarchs came.Like their own father, children four,All valiant boys, the lady bore.In glorious deeds each nerve they strained,And well their Warrior part sustained.To them most just, and true, and brave,Their father thus his counsel gave:"Beloved children, ne'er forgetProtection is a prince's debt:The noble work at once begin,High virtue and her fruits to win."The youths to all the people dear,Received his speech with willing ear;And each went forth his several way,Foundations of a town to lay.Kus'án, a prince of high renown,Was builder of Kaus'ámbí's town,And Kus'anábha, just and wise,Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise.Amúrtarajas chose to dwellIn Dharmáranya's citadel,And Vasu bade his city fairThe name of Girivraja bear. 2This fertile spot whereon we standWas once the high-souled Vasu's land.Behold! as round we turn our eyes,
Five lofty mountain peaks arise.See! bursting from her parent hill,Sumágadhi, a lovely rill,Bright gleaming as she flows betweenThe mountains, like a wreath is seen,And then through Magadh's plains and grovesWith many a fair mæander roves.And this was Vasu's old domain,The fertile Magadh's broad champaign,Which smiling fields of tilth adornAnd diadem with golden corn.
The queen Ghrítáchí, nymph most fair,Married to Kus'anábha, bareA hundred daughters, lovely-faced,With every charm and beauty graced.It chanced the maidens, bright and gayAs lightning-flashes on a dayOf rain time, to the garden wentWith song and play and merriment,And there in gay attire they strayed,And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.The God of Wind who roves at willAll places, as he lists, to fill,Saw the young maidens dancing there,Of faultless shape and mien most fair,'I love you all, sweet girls,' he cried,And each shall be my darling bride.Forsake, forsake your mortal lot,And gain a life that withers not.A fickle thing is youth's brief span,And more than all in mortal man.Receive unending youth, and beImmortal, O my loves, with me.'
The hundred girls, to wonder stirred,The wooing of the Wind-God heard,Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside,And with one voice they thus replied.'O mighty Wind, free spirit whoAll life pervadest, through and through,Thy wondrous power we maidens know;Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so?Our sire is Kus'anábha, King;And we, forsooth, have charms to bringA God to woo us from the skies;But honour first we maidens prize.Far may the hour, we pray, be hence,When we, O thou of little sense,Our truthful father's choice refuse,And for ourselves our husbands choose.Our honoured sire our lord we deem,He is to us a God supreme,And they to whom his high decreeMay give us shall our husbands be.'
He heard the answer they returned,And mighty rage within him burned.On each fair maid a blast he sent:Each stately form be bowed and bent.Bent double by the Wind-God's ireTliey sought the palace of their sire,
There fell upon the ground with sighs,While tears and shame were in their eyes.The king himself, with troubled brow,Saw his dear girls so fair but now,A mournful sight all bent and bowed,And grieving thus he cried aloud:'What fate is this, and what the cause!What wretch has scorned all heavenly laws?Who thus your forms could curve and break?You struggle, but no answer make.'
They heard the speech of that wise kingOf their misfortune questioning.Again the hundred maidens sighed,Touched with their heads his feet, and cried;'The God of Wind, pervading space,Would bring on us a foul disgrace,And choosing folly's evil wayFrom virtue's path in scorn would stray.But we in words like these reprovedThe God of Wind whom passion moved:'Farewell, O Lord! A sire have we,No women uncontrolled and free.Go, and our sire's consent obtainIf thou our maiden hands wouldst gain.No self-dependent life we live:If we offend, our fault forgive.''But led by folly as a slave,He would not hear the rede we gave,And even as we gently spokeWe felt the Wind-God's crushing stroke.'
The pious king, with grief distressed,The noble hundred thus addressed:'With patience, daughters, bear your fate,Yours was a deed supremely greatWhen with one mind you kept from shameThe honour of your father's name.Patience, when men their anger vent,Is woman's praise and ornament;Yet when the Gods inflict the blowHard is it to support the woe.Patience, my girls, exceeds all price:'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice.Patience is virtue, patience fame:Patience upholds this earthly frame.And now, I think, is come the timeTo wed you in jour maiden prime.Now, daughters, go where'er you will:Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill.'
The maidens went, consoled, away:The best of kings, that very day,Summoned his ministers of stateAbout their marriage to debate.Since then, because the Wind-God bentThe damsels' forms for punishment,That royal town is known to fameBy Kanyákubja's 1 borrowed name.
There lived a sage called Chúli then,Devoutest of the sons of men;His days in penance rites he spent,A glorious saint, most continent.To him absorbed in tasks austereThe child of Urmilá drew near,Sweet Somadá, the heavenly maid,And lent the saint her pious aid.Long time near him the maiden spent,And served him meek and reverent,Till the great hermit, pleased with her,Thus spoke unto his minister:'Grateful am I for all thy care:Blest maiden, speak, thy wish declare.'The sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to seeThe favour of the devotee,And to that eloquent old man,Most eloquent she thus began:'Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained,Close union with the Godhead gained.I long, O Saint, to see a sonBy force of holy penance won.Unwed, a maiden life I live:A son to me, thy suppliant, give.'The saint with favour heard her prayer,And gave a son exceeding fair.Him, Chúli's spiritual child,His mother Brahmadatta 1b styled.King Brahmadatta, rich and great,In Kámpilí maintained his state,Ruling, like Indra in his bliss,His fortunate metropolis.King Kus'anábha planned that heHis hundred daughters' lord should be.To him, obedient to his call,The happy monarch gave them all.Like Indra then he took the handOf every maiden of the band.Soon as the hand of each young maidIn Brahmadatta's palm was laid,Deformity and cares away,She shone in beauty bright and gay.Their freedom from the Wind-God's mightSaw Kus'anábha with delight.Each glance that on their forms he threwFilled him with raptures ever new.Then when the rites were all complete,Witli highest marks of honour meetThe bridegroom with his brides he sentTo his great seat of government.
The nymph received with pleasant speechHer daughters; and, embracing each,Upon their forms she fondly gazed,And royal Kus'anábha praised.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes46:1 The modern Berar.
46:2 According to the Bengal recension the first (Kus'ámba) is called Kus'ás'va, and his city Kaus'ás'ví. This name does not occur elsewhere. The reading of the northern recension is confirmed by *Foê *Kouê Ki; p. 385, where the citv Kiaoshangmi is mentioned. It lay 500 lis to the south-west of Prayága, on the south bunk of the Jumna. Mahodaya is another name of Kanyakubja: Dharmáranya, the wood to which the God of Justice is said to have fled through fear of Soma the Moon-God, was in Magadh. Girivraja w s in the same neighbourhood, See Lasson's I. A. Vol. I, p. 604.
47:1 That is, the City of the Bent Virgins, the modern Kanauj or Canouge.
47:1b Literally, Given by Brahma or devout contemplation.
CANTO XXXV:
Five lofty mountain peaks arise.See! bursting from her parent hill,Sumágadhi, a lovely rill,Bright gleaming as she flows betweenThe mountains, like a wreath is seen,And then through Magadh's plains and grovesWith many a fair mæander roves.And this was Vasu's old domain,The fertile Magadh's broad champaign,Which smiling fields of tilth adornAnd diadem with golden corn.
The queen Ghrítáchí, nymph most fair,Married to Kus'anábha, bareA hundred daughters, lovely-faced,With every charm and beauty graced.It chanced the maidens, bright and gayAs lightning-flashes on a dayOf rain time, to the garden wentWith song and play and merriment,And there in gay attire they strayed,And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.The God of Wind who roves at willAll places, as he lists, to fill,Saw the young maidens dancing there,Of faultless shape and mien most fair,'I love you all, sweet girls,' he cried,And each shall be my darling bride.Forsake, forsake your mortal lot,And gain a life that withers not.A fickle thing is youth's brief span,And more than all in mortal man.Receive unending youth, and beImmortal, O my loves, with me.'
The hundred girls, to wonder stirred,The wooing of the Wind-God heard,Laughed, as a jest, his suit aside,And with one voice they thus replied.'O mighty Wind, free spirit whoAll life pervadest, through and through,Thy wondrous power we maidens know;Then wherefore wilt thou mock us so?Our sire is Kus'anábha, King;And we, forsooth, have charms to bringA God to woo us from the skies;But honour first we maidens prize.Far may the hour, we pray, be hence,When we, O thou of little sense,Our truthful father's choice refuse,And for ourselves our husbands choose.Our honoured sire our lord we deem,He is to us a God supreme,And they to whom his high decreeMay give us shall our husbands be.'
He heard the answer they returned,And mighty rage within him burned.On each fair maid a blast he sent:Each stately form be bowed and bent.Bent double by the Wind-God's ireTliey sought the palace of their sire,
There fell upon the ground with sighs,While tears and shame were in their eyes.The king himself, with troubled brow,Saw his dear girls so fair but now,A mournful sight all bent and bowed,And grieving thus he cried aloud:'What fate is this, and what the cause!What wretch has scorned all heavenly laws?Who thus your forms could curve and break?You struggle, but no answer make.'
They heard the speech of that wise kingOf their misfortune questioning.Again the hundred maidens sighed,Touched with their heads his feet, and cried;'The God of Wind, pervading space,Would bring on us a foul disgrace,And choosing folly's evil wayFrom virtue's path in scorn would stray.But we in words like these reprovedThe God of Wind whom passion moved:'Farewell, O Lord! A sire have we,No women uncontrolled and free.Go, and our sire's consent obtainIf thou our maiden hands wouldst gain.No self-dependent life we live:If we offend, our fault forgive.''But led by folly as a slave,He would not hear the rede we gave,And even as we gently spokeWe felt the Wind-God's crushing stroke.'
The pious king, with grief distressed,The noble hundred thus addressed:'With patience, daughters, bear your fate,Yours was a deed supremely greatWhen with one mind you kept from shameThe honour of your father's name.Patience, when men their anger vent,Is woman's praise and ornament;Yet when the Gods inflict the blowHard is it to support the woe.Patience, my girls, exceeds all price:'Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice.Patience is virtue, patience fame:Patience upholds this earthly frame.And now, I think, is come the timeTo wed you in jour maiden prime.Now, daughters, go where'er you will:Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill.'
The maidens went, consoled, away:The best of kings, that very day,Summoned his ministers of stateAbout their marriage to debate.Since then, because the Wind-God bentThe damsels' forms for punishment,That royal town is known to fameBy Kanyákubja's 1 borrowed name.
There lived a sage called Chúli then,Devoutest of the sons of men;His days in penance rites he spent,A glorious saint, most continent.To him absorbed in tasks austereThe child of Urmilá drew near,Sweet Somadá, the heavenly maid,And lent the saint her pious aid.Long time near him the maiden spent,And served him meek and reverent,Till the great hermit, pleased with her,Thus spoke unto his minister:'Grateful am I for all thy care:Blest maiden, speak, thy wish declare.'The sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to seeThe favour of the devotee,And to that eloquent old man,Most eloquent she thus began:'Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained,Close union with the Godhead gained.I long, O Saint, to see a sonBy force of holy penance won.Unwed, a maiden life I live:A son to me, thy suppliant, give.'The saint with favour heard her prayer,And gave a son exceeding fair.Him, Chúli's spiritual child,His mother Brahmadatta 1b styled.King Brahmadatta, rich and great,In Kámpilí maintained his state,Ruling, like Indra in his bliss,His fortunate metropolis.King Kus'anábha planned that heHis hundred daughters' lord should be.To him, obedient to his call,The happy monarch gave them all.Like Indra then he took the handOf every maiden of the band.Soon as the hand of each young maidIn Brahmadatta's palm was laid,Deformity and cares away,She shone in beauty bright and gay.Their freedom from the Wind-God's mightSaw Kus'anábha with delight.Each glance that on their forms he threwFilled him with raptures ever new.Then when the rites were all complete,Witli highest marks of honour meetThe bridegroom with his brides he sentTo his great seat of government.
The nymph received with pleasant speechHer daughters; and, embracing each,Upon their forms she fondly gazed,And royal Kus'anábha praised.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes46:1 The modern Berar.
46:2 According to the Bengal recension the first (Kus'ámba) is called Kus'ás'va, and his city Kaus'ás'ví. This name does not occur elsewhere. The reading of the northern recension is confirmed by *Foê *Kouê Ki; p. 385, where the citv Kiaoshangmi is mentioned. It lay 500 lis to the south-west of Prayága, on the south bunk of the Jumna. Mahodaya is another name of Kanyakubja: Dharmáranya, the wood to which the God of Justice is said to have fled through fear of Soma the Moon-God, was in Magadh. Girivraja w s in the same neighbourhood, See Lasson's I. A. Vol. I, p. 604.
47:1 That is, the City of the Bent Virgins, the modern Kanauj or Canouge.
47:1b Literally, Given by Brahma or devout contemplation.
CANTO XXXV:
VISVÁMITRA'S LINEAGE.'The rites were o'er, the maids were wed,The bridegroom to his home was sped.The sonless monarch bade prepareA sacrifice to gain an heir.Then Kus'a, Brahmá's son, appeared,And thus King Kus'anábha cheered:'Thou shalt, my child, obtain a sonLike thine own self, O holy one.Through him for ever, Gádhi named,Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed.''He spoke, and vanished from the sightTo Brahmá's world of endless light.Time fled, and, as the saint foretold,Gádhi was born, the holy-souled.My sire was he; through him I traceMy line from royal Kus'a's race.My sister--elder-born was she--The pure and good Satyavatí, 1Was to the great Richika wed.Still faithful to her husband dead,She followed him, most noble dame,And, raised to heaven in human frame,A pure celestial stream became.Down from Himálaya's snowy height,In floods for ever fair and bright,My sister's holy waves are hurledTo purify and glad the world.Now on Himálaya's side I dwellBecause I love my sister well.She, for her faith and truth renowned,Most loving to her husband found,High-fated, firm in each pure vow,Is queen of all the rivers now.Bound by a vow I left her sideAnd to the Perfect convent hied.There, by the aid 'twas thine to lend,Made perfect, all my labours end.Thus, mighty Prince, I now have toldMy race and lineage, high and old,And local tales of long agoWhich thou, O Ráma, fain wouldst know.As I have sate rehearsing thusThe midnight hour is come on us.Now, Ráma, sleep, that nothing mayOur journey of to-morrow stay.No leaf on any tree is stirred:Hushed in repose are beast and bird:
Where'er you turn, on every side,Dense shades of night the landscape hide,The light of eve is fled: the skies,Thick-studded with their host of eyes,Seem a star-forest overhead,Where signs and constellations spread.Now rises, with his pure cold ray,The moon that drives the shades away,And with his gentle influence bringsJoy to the hearts of living things.Now, stealing from their lairs, appearThe beasts to whom the night is dear.Now spirits walk, and every powerThat revels in the midnight hour.'
The mighty hermit's tale was o'er,He closed his lips and spoke no more.The holy men on every side,'Well done! well done,' with reverence cried;'The mighty men of Kus'a's seedWere ever famed for righteous deed.Like Brahmá's self in glory shineThe high-souled lords of Kus'a's line,And thy great name is sounded most,O Saint, amid the noble host.And thy dear sister--fairest sheOf streams, the high-born Kaus'ikí--Diffusing virtue where she flows,New splendour on thy lineage throws.'Thus by the chief of saints addressedThe son of Gádhi turned to rest;So, when his daily course is done,Sinks to his rest the beaming sun.Ráma with Lakshman, somewhat stirredTo marvel by the tales they heard,Turned also to his couch, to closeHis eyelids in desired repose.
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Footnotes48:1 Now called Kos'í (Cosy) corrupted from Kaus'ikí, daughter of Kus'a.
'This is one of those personifications of rivers so frequent in the Grecian mythology, but in the similar myths is seen the impress of the genius of each people, austere and profoundly religious in India, graceful and devoted to the worship of external beauty in Greece.' GORRESIO.
CANTO XXXVI.:
Where'er you turn, on every side,Dense shades of night the landscape hide,The light of eve is fled: the skies,Thick-studded with their host of eyes,Seem a star-forest overhead,Where signs and constellations spread.Now rises, with his pure cold ray,The moon that drives the shades away,And with his gentle influence bringsJoy to the hearts of living things.Now, stealing from their lairs, appearThe beasts to whom the night is dear.Now spirits walk, and every powerThat revels in the midnight hour.'
The mighty hermit's tale was o'er,He closed his lips and spoke no more.The holy men on every side,'Well done! well done,' with reverence cried;'The mighty men of Kus'a's seedWere ever famed for righteous deed.Like Brahmá's self in glory shineThe high-souled lords of Kus'a's line,And thy great name is sounded most,O Saint, amid the noble host.And thy dear sister--fairest sheOf streams, the high-born Kaus'ikí--Diffusing virtue where she flows,New splendour on thy lineage throws.'Thus by the chief of saints addressedThe son of Gádhi turned to rest;So, when his daily course is done,Sinks to his rest the beaming sun.Ráma with Lakshman, somewhat stirredTo marvel by the tales they heard,Turned also to his couch, to closeHis eyelids in desired repose.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes48:1 Now called Kos'í (Cosy) corrupted from Kaus'ikí, daughter of Kus'a.
'This is one of those personifications of rivers so frequent in the Grecian mythology, but in the similar myths is seen the impress of the genius of each people, austere and profoundly religious in India, graceful and devoted to the worship of external beauty in Greece.' GORRESIO.
CANTO XXXVI.:
THE BIRTH OF GANGÁ.The hours of night now waning fastOn S'ona's pleasant shore they passed.Then, when the dawn began to break,To Ráma thus the hermit spake:'The light of dawn is breaking clear,The hour of morning rites is near,Rise, Ráma, rise, dear son, I pray,And make thee ready for the way.'
Then Ráma rose, and finished allHis duties at the hermit's call,Prepared with joy the road to take,And thus again in question spake:'Here fair and deep the S'ona flows,And many an isle its bosom shows:What way, O Saint, will lead us o'erAnd land us on the farther shore?The saint replied: 'The way I chooseIs that which pious hermits use.'
For many a league they journeyed onTill, when the sun of mid-day shone,The hermit-haunted flood was seenOf Jáhnaví, 1 the Rivers' Queen.Soon as the holy stream they viewed,Thronged with a white-winged multitudeOf sarases 2 and swans, 3 delightPossessed them at the lovely sight:And then prepared the hermit bandTo halt upon that holy strand.They bathed as Scripture bids, and paidOblations due to God and shade.To Fire they burnt the offerings meet,And sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.Then pure and pleased they sate aroundSaint Vis'vámitra on the ground.The holy men of lesser note,In due degree, sate more remote,While Raghu's sons took nearer placeBy virtue of their rank and race.Then Ráma said: 'O Saint, I yearnThe three-pathed Gangá's tale to learn.'
Thus urged, the sage recounted bothThe birth of Gangá and her growth:'The mighty hill with metals stored,Himálaya, is the mountains' lord,The father of a lovely pairOf daughters fairest of the fair:Their mother, offspring of the willOf Meru, everlasting hill,Mená, Himálaya's darling, gracedWith beauty of her dainty waist.Gangá was elder-born: then cameThe fair one known by Umá's name.Then all the Gods of heaven, in needOf Gangá's help their vows to speed,To great Himálaya came and prayedThe mountain King to yield the maid.He, not regardless of the wealOf the three worlds, with holy zealHis daughter to the Immortals gave,Gangá whose waters cleanse and save,Who roams at pleasure, fair and free,Purging all sinners, to the sea.The three-pathed Gangá thus obtained,The Gods their heavenly homes regained.Long time the sister Umá passedIn vows austere and rigid fast,And the king gave the devoteeImmortal Rudra's 4 bride to be,Matching with that unequalled LordHis Umá through the worlds adored.So now a glorious station fills
Each daughter of the King of Hills:One honoured as the noblest stream,One mid the Goddesses supreme.Thus Gangá, King Himálaya's child,The heavenly river, undefiled,Rose bearing with her to the skyHer waves that bless and purify.'
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Footnotes49:1 One of the names of the Ganges considered as the daughter of Jahnu. See Canto XLIV.
49:2 The Indian Crane.
49:3 Or, rather, geese.
49:4 A name of the God S'iva.
CANTO XXXIX.:
Then Ráma rose, and finished allHis duties at the hermit's call,Prepared with joy the road to take,And thus again in question spake:'Here fair and deep the S'ona flows,And many an isle its bosom shows:What way, O Saint, will lead us o'erAnd land us on the farther shore?The saint replied: 'The way I chooseIs that which pious hermits use.'
For many a league they journeyed onTill, when the sun of mid-day shone,The hermit-haunted flood was seenOf Jáhnaví, 1 the Rivers' Queen.Soon as the holy stream they viewed,Thronged with a white-winged multitudeOf sarases 2 and swans, 3 delightPossessed them at the lovely sight:And then prepared the hermit bandTo halt upon that holy strand.They bathed as Scripture bids, and paidOblations due to God and shade.To Fire they burnt the offerings meet,And sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.Then pure and pleased they sate aroundSaint Vis'vámitra on the ground.The holy men of lesser note,In due degree, sate more remote,While Raghu's sons took nearer placeBy virtue of their rank and race.Then Ráma said: 'O Saint, I yearnThe three-pathed Gangá's tale to learn.'
Thus urged, the sage recounted bothThe birth of Gangá and her growth:'The mighty hill with metals stored,Himálaya, is the mountains' lord,The father of a lovely pairOf daughters fairest of the fair:Their mother, offspring of the willOf Meru, everlasting hill,Mená, Himálaya's darling, gracedWith beauty of her dainty waist.Gangá was elder-born: then cameThe fair one known by Umá's name.Then all the Gods of heaven, in needOf Gangá's help their vows to speed,To great Himálaya came and prayedThe mountain King to yield the maid.He, not regardless of the wealOf the three worlds, with holy zealHis daughter to the Immortals gave,Gangá whose waters cleanse and save,Who roams at pleasure, fair and free,Purging all sinners, to the sea.The three-pathed Gangá thus obtained,The Gods their heavenly homes regained.Long time the sister Umá passedIn vows austere and rigid fast,And the king gave the devoteeImmortal Rudra's 4 bride to be,Matching with that unequalled LordHis Umá through the worlds adored.So now a glorious station fills
Each daughter of the King of Hills:One honoured as the noblest stream,One mid the Goddesses supreme.Thus Gangá, King Himálaya's child,The heavenly river, undefiled,Rose bearing with her to the skyHer waves that bless and purify.'
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes49:1 One of the names of the Ganges considered as the daughter of Jahnu. See Canto XLIV.
49:2 The Indian Crane.
49:3 Or, rather, geese.
49:4 A name of the God S'iva.
CANTO XXXIX.:
THE SONS OF SAGAR.The saint in accents sweet and clearThus told his tale for Ráma's ear,And thus anew the holy manA legend to the prince began:'There reigned a pious monarch o'erAyodhyá in the days of yore:Sagar his name: no child bad he,And children much he longed to see.His honoured consort, fair of face,Sprang from Vidarbha's royal race,Kes'ini, famed from early youthFor piety and love of truth.Arishtanemi's daughter fair,With whom no maiden might compareIn beauty, though the earth is wide,Sumati, was his second bride.With his two queens afar he went,And weary days in penance spent,Fervent, upon Himálaya's hillWhere springs the stream called Bhrigu' rill.Nor did he fail that saint to pleaseWith his devout austerities,And, when a hundred years had fled,Thus the most truthful Bhrigu said:'From thee, O Sagar, blameless King,A mighty host of sons shall spring,And thou shalt win a glorious nameWhich none, O Chief, but thou shall claim.One of thy queens a son shall bear,Maintainer of thy race and heir;And of the other there shall beSons sixty thousand born to thee.'
Thus as he spake, with one accord,To win the grace of that high lord,The queens, with palms together laid,In humble supplication prayed:'Which queen, O Bráhman, of the pair,The many, or the one shall bear?Most eager, Lord, are we to know,And as thou sayest be it so.'
With his sweet speech the saint replied:'Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide.Your own discretion freely useWhich shall the one or many choose:One shall the race and name uphold,The host be famous, strong, and bold.Which will have which?' Then Kes'inîThe mother of one heir would be.Sumati, sister of the king 1Of all the birds that ply the wing,To that illustrious Bráhman suedThat she might bear the multitudeWhose fame throughout the world should soundFor mighty enterprise renowned.Around the saint the monarch went,Bowing his head, most reverent.Then with his wives, with willing feet,Besought his own imperial seat.Time passed. The elder consort bareA son called Asamanj, the heir.Then Sumati, the younger, gaveBirth to a gourd, 2 O hero brave,Whose rind, when burst and cleft in two,Gave sixty thousand babes to view.All these with care the nurses laidIn jars of oil; and there they stayed,Till, youthful age and strength complete,Forth speeding from each dark retreat,All peers in valour, years, and might,The sixty thousand came to light.Prince Asamanj, brought up with care,Scourge of his foes, was made the heir.But liegemen's boys he used to castTo Sarjû's waves that hurried past,Laughing the while in cruel gleeTheir dying agonies to see.This wicked prince who aye withstoodThe counsel of the wise and good,Who plagued the people in his hate,His father banished from the state.His son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall,Was Ans'uman, beloved of all. Long years flew by. The king decreedTo slay a sacrificial steed.Consulting with his priestly bandHe vowed the rite his soul had planned,And, Veda skilled, by their adviceMade ready for the sacrifice.
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Footnotes49:1b I am compelled to omit Cantos XXXVII and XXXVIII, THE GLORY OF UMÀ, and THE BIRTH OF KÁRTIKEYA, as both in subject and language offensive to modern taste. They will be found in Schlegel's Latin translation.
CANTO XL.:
Thus as he spake, with one accord,To win the grace of that high lord,The queens, with palms together laid,In humble supplication prayed:'Which queen, O Bráhman, of the pair,The many, or the one shall bear?Most eager, Lord, are we to know,And as thou sayest be it so.'
With his sweet speech the saint replied:'Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide.Your own discretion freely useWhich shall the one or many choose:One shall the race and name uphold,The host be famous, strong, and bold.Which will have which?' Then Kes'inîThe mother of one heir would be.Sumati, sister of the king 1Of all the birds that ply the wing,To that illustrious Bráhman suedThat she might bear the multitudeWhose fame throughout the world should soundFor mighty enterprise renowned.Around the saint the monarch went,Bowing his head, most reverent.Then with his wives, with willing feet,Besought his own imperial seat.Time passed. The elder consort bareA son called Asamanj, the heir.Then Sumati, the younger, gaveBirth to a gourd, 2 O hero brave,Whose rind, when burst and cleft in two,Gave sixty thousand babes to view.All these with care the nurses laidIn jars of oil; and there they stayed,Till, youthful age and strength complete,Forth speeding from each dark retreat,All peers in valour, years, and might,The sixty thousand came to light.Prince Asamanj, brought up with care,Scourge of his foes, was made the heir.But liegemen's boys he used to castTo Sarjû's waves that hurried past,Laughing the while in cruel gleeTheir dying agonies to see.This wicked prince who aye withstoodThe counsel of the wise and good,Who plagued the people in his hate,His father banished from the state.His son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall,Was Ans'uman, beloved of all. Long years flew by. The king decreedTo slay a sacrificial steed.Consulting with his priestly bandHe vowed the rite his soul had planned,And, Veda skilled, by their adviceMade ready for the sacrifice.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Footnotes49:1b I am compelled to omit Cantos XXXVII and XXXVIII, THE GLORY OF UMÀ, and THE BIRTH OF KÁRTIKEYA, as both in subject and language offensive to modern taste. They will be found in Schlegel's Latin translation.
CANTO XL.:
THE CLEAVING OF THE EARTH.The hermit ceased: the tale was done:Then in a transport Raghu's son
Again addressed the ancient sireResplendent as a burning fire:'O holy man, I fain would hearThe tale repeated full and clearHow he from whom my sires descendBrought the great rite to happy end.'The hermit answered with a smile:'Then listen, son of Raghu, whileMy legendary tale proceedsTo tell of high-souled Sagar's deeds.Within the spacious plain that liesFrom where Himálaya's heights ariseTo where proud Vindhya's rival chainLooks down upon the subject plain--A land the best for rites declared-- 1bHis sacrifice the king prepared.And Ans'umán the prince--for soSagar advised--with ready bowWas borne upon a mighty carTo watch the steed who roamed afar.But Indra, monarch of the skies,Veiling his form in demon guise,Came down upon the appointed dayAnd drove the victim horde away.Reft of the steed the priests, distressed,The master of the rite addressed;'Upon the sacred day by forceA robber takes the victim horse.Haste, King! now let the thief be slain;Bring thou the charger back again:The sacred rite prevented thusBrings scathe and woe to all of us.Rise, monarch, and provide with speed.That naught its happy course impede.' King Sagar in his crowded courtGave ear unto the priests' report.He summoned straightway to his sideHis sixty thousand sons, and cried:'Brave sons of mine, I knew not howThese demons are so mighty now:The priests began the rite so wellAll sanctified with prayer and spell.If in the depths of earth he hide,Or lurk beneath the ocean's tide,
Pursue, dear sons, the robber's track;Slay him and bring the charger back.The whole of this broad earth explore,Sea-garlanded, from shore to shore:Yea, dig her up with might and mainUntil you see the horse again.Deep let your searching labour reach,A league in depth dug out by each.The robber of our horse pursue,And please your sire who orders you.My grandson, I, this priestly train,Till the steed comes, will here remain.' Their eager hearts with transport burnedAs to their task the heroes turned.Obedient to their father, theyThrough earth's recesses forced their way.With iron arms' unflinching toilEach dug a league beneath the soil.Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain,As emulous they plied amainSharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar,Hard as the bolts of Indra are.Then loud the horrid clamour roseOf monsters dying 'neath their blows,Giant and demon, fiend and snake,That in earth's core their dwelling make.They dug, in ire that naught could stay,Through sixty thousand leagues their way,Cleaving the earth with matchless strengthTill hell itself they reached at length.Thus digging searched they Jambudvip 1With all its hills and mountains steep.Then a great fear began to shakeThe heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake,And all distressed in spirit wentBefore the Sire Omnipotent.With signs of woe in every faceThey sought the mighty Father's grace,And trembling still and ill at easeAddressed their Lord in words like these:'The sons of Sagar, Sire benign,Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine,And as their ruthless work they plyInnumerable creatures die,'This is the thief,' the princes say,'Who stole our victim steed away.This marred the rite, and caused us ill.And so their guiltless blood they spill.'
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Footnotes50:1 Garuda.
50:2 Ikshváku, the name of a king of Ayodhyá who is regarded as the founder of the Solar race, means also a gourd. Hence, perhaps, the myth.
50:1b The region here spoken of is called in the Laws of Manu Madhyades'a or the middle region. 'The region situated between the Himálaya and the Vindhya Mountains ... is called Madhyades'a, or the middle region; the space comprised between these two mountains from the eastern to the western sea is called by sages Áryávartta, the seat of honourable men.' (MANU, II, 21, 22.) The Sanskrit Indians called themselves Áryans, which means honourable, noble, to distinguish themselves from the surrounding nations of different origin.' GORRESIO.
CANTO XLI.:
Again addressed the ancient sireResplendent as a burning fire:'O holy man, I fain would hearThe tale repeated full and clearHow he from whom my sires descendBrought the great rite to happy end.'The hermit answered with a smile:'Then listen, son of Raghu, whileMy legendary tale proceedsTo tell of high-souled Sagar's deeds.Within the spacious plain that liesFrom where Himálaya's heights ariseTo where proud Vindhya's rival chainLooks down upon the subject plain--A land the best for rites declared-- 1bHis sacrifice the king prepared.And Ans'umán the prince--for soSagar advised--with ready bowWas borne upon a mighty carTo watch the steed who roamed afar.But Indra, monarch of the skies,Veiling his form in demon guise,Came down upon the appointed dayAnd drove the victim horde away.Reft of the steed the priests, distressed,The master of the rite addressed;'Upon the sacred day by forceA robber takes the victim horse.Haste, King! now let the thief be slain;Bring thou the charger back again:The sacred rite prevented thusBrings scathe and woe to all of us.Rise, monarch, and provide with speed.That naught its happy course impede.' King Sagar in his crowded courtGave ear unto the priests' report.He summoned straightway to his sideHis sixty thousand sons, and cried:'Brave sons of mine, I knew not howThese demons are so mighty now:The priests began the rite so wellAll sanctified with prayer and spell.If in the depths of earth he hide,Or lurk beneath the ocean's tide,
Pursue, dear sons, the robber's track;Slay him and bring the charger back.The whole of this broad earth explore,Sea-garlanded, from shore to shore:Yea, dig her up with might and mainUntil you see the horse again.Deep let your searching labour reach,A league in depth dug out by each.The robber of our horse pursue,And please your sire who orders you.My grandson, I, this priestly train,Till the steed comes, will here remain.' Their eager hearts with transport burnedAs to their task the heroes turned.Obedient to their father, theyThrough earth's recesses forced their way.With iron arms' unflinching toilEach dug a league beneath the soil.Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain,As emulous they plied amainSharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar,Hard as the bolts of Indra are.Then loud the horrid clamour roseOf monsters dying 'neath their blows,Giant and demon, fiend and snake,That in earth's core their dwelling make.They dug, in ire that naught could stay,Through sixty thousand leagues their way,Cleaving the earth with matchless strengthTill hell itself they reached at length.Thus digging searched they Jambudvip 1With all its hills and mountains steep.Then a great fear began to shakeThe heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake,And all distressed in spirit wentBefore the Sire Omnipotent.With signs of woe in every faceThey sought the mighty Father's grace,And trembling still and ill at easeAddressed their Lord in words like these:'The sons of Sagar, Sire benign,Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine,And as their ruthless work they plyInnumerable creatures die,'This is the thief,' the princes say,'Who stole our victim steed away.This marred the rite, and caused us ill.And so their guiltless blood they spill.'
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Footnotes50:1 Garuda.
50:2 Ikshváku, the name of a king of Ayodhyá who is regarded as the founder of the Solar race, means also a gourd. Hence, perhaps, the myth.
50:1b The region here spoken of is called in the Laws of Manu Madhyades'a or the middle region. 'The region situated between the Himálaya and the Vindhya Mountains ... is called Madhyades'a, or the middle region; the space comprised between these two mountains from the eastern to the western sea is called by sages Áryávartta, the seat of honourable men.' (MANU, II, 21, 22.) The Sanskrit Indians called themselves Áryans, which means honourable, noble, to distinguish themselves from the surrounding nations of different origin.' GORRESIO.
CANTO XLI.:
KAPIL.The father lent a gracious earAnd listened to their tale of fear,
And kindly to the Gods repliedWhom woe and death had terrified;'The wisest Vasudeva, 1b whoThe Immortals' foe, fierce Madhu, slew,Regards broad Earth with love and prideAnd guards, in Kapil's form, his bride. 2bHis kindled wrath will quickly fallOn the king's sons and burn them all.This cleaving of the earth his eyeForesaw in ages long gone by:He knew with prescient soul the fateThat Sagar's children should await.' The Three-and-thirty, 3b freed from fear.Sought their bright homes with hopeful cheer.Still rose the great tempestuous soundAs Sagar's children pierced the ground.When thus the whole broad earth was cleft,And not a spot unsearched was left,Back to their home the princes sped,And thus unto their father said:'We searched the earth from side to side,While countless hosts of creatures died.Our conquering feet in triumph trodOn snake and demon, fiend and God;But yet we failed, with all our toil,To find the robber and the spoil.What can we more? If more we can,Devise, O King, and tell thy plan.' His chidren's speech King Sagar heard,And answered thus, to anger stirred:'Dig on, and ne'er your labour stayTill through earth's depths you force your way.Then smite the robber dead, and bringThe charger back with triumphing.'
The sixty thousand chiefs obeyed:Deep through the earth their way they made.Deep as they dug and deeper yetThe immortal elephant they met,Famed Virúpáksha 1 vast of size,Upon whose head the broad earth lies:The mighty beast who earth sustainsWith shaggy hills and wooded plains.When, with the changing moon, distressed,And longing for a moment's rest,His mighty head the monster shakes,Earth to the bottom reels and quakes.Around that warder strong and vastWith reverential steps they passed.Nor, when the honour due was paid,Their downward search through earth delayed.But turning from the east asideSouthward again their task they plied.There Mahápadma held his place,The best of all his mighty race,Like some huge hill, of monstrous girth,Upholding on his head the earth.When the vast beast the princes saw,They marvelled and were tilled with awe.The sons of high-souled Sagar roundThat elephant in reverence wound.Then in the western region theyWith might unwearied cleft their way.There saw they with astonisht eyesSaumanas, beast of mountain size.Round him with circling steps they wentWith greetings kind and reverent. On, on--no thought of rest or stay--They reached the seat of Soma's sway.There saw they Bhadra, white as snow,With lucky marks that fortune show,Bearing the earth upon his head.Round him they paced with solemn tread,
And honoured him with greetings kind,Then downward yet their way they mined.They gained the tract 'twixt east and northWhose fame is ever blazoned forth, 1bAnd by a storm of rage impelled,Digging through earth their course they held. Then all the princes, lofty-souled,Of wondrous vigour, strong and bold,Saw Vásudeva 2b standing thereIn Kapil's form he loved to wear,And near the everlasting GodThe victim charger cropped the sod.They saw with joy and eager eyesThe fancied robber and the prize,And on him rushed the furious bandCrying aloud, Stand, villain! stand!'Avaunt! avaunt!' great Kapil cried,His bosom flusht with passion's tide;Then by his might that proud arrayAll scorcht to heaps of ashes lay. 3b
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Footnotes51:1 Said to be so called from the Jambu, or Rose Apple, abounding in it, and signifying according to the Purána, the central division of the world, the known world.
51:1b Here used as a name of Vishnu.
51:2b Kings are called the husbands of their kingdoms or of the earth; 'She and his kingdom were his only brides.' Raghuvans'a.
'Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate A double marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, And then between me and my married wife.' King Richard II. Act V. Sc. I.
51:3b The thirty-three Gods are said in the Aitareya. Bráhmana.Book 1. ch. II. 10. to be the eight Vasus, the eleven Rudras, the twelve Àdityas, Prajápati, either Brahmá or Daksha, and Vashatkára or deitied oblation. This must have been the actual number at the beginning of the Vedic religion gradually increased by successive mythical and religious creations till the Indian Pantheon was crowded with abstractions of every kind. Through the reverence with which the words of the Veda were regarded, the immense host of multiplied divinities, in later times, still bore the name of the Thirty-three Gods.
52:1 'One of the elephants which, according to an ancient belief popular in India, supported the earth with their enormous backs; when one of these elephants shook his wearied head the earth trembled with its woods and hills. An idea, or rather a mythical fancy, similar to this, but reduced to proportions less grand, is found in Virgil when he speaks of Enceladus buried under Ætna:
'Fama est Enceladi semiustum fulmine corpus Urgeri molo haec, ingentemque insuper Ætnam Impositam, ruptis flammam expirare caminis; Et fessum quoties mutat latus, intremere omnem Murmure Trinacriam, et coelum subtexere fumo.'
Æneid. Lib, III. GORRESIO.
And kindly to the Gods repliedWhom woe and death had terrified;'The wisest Vasudeva, 1b whoThe Immortals' foe, fierce Madhu, slew,Regards broad Earth with love and prideAnd guards, in Kapil's form, his bride. 2bHis kindled wrath will quickly fallOn the king's sons and burn them all.This cleaving of the earth his eyeForesaw in ages long gone by:He knew with prescient soul the fateThat Sagar's children should await.' The Three-and-thirty, 3b freed from fear.Sought their bright homes with hopeful cheer.Still rose the great tempestuous soundAs Sagar's children pierced the ground.When thus the whole broad earth was cleft,And not a spot unsearched was left,Back to their home the princes sped,And thus unto their father said:'We searched the earth from side to side,While countless hosts of creatures died.Our conquering feet in triumph trodOn snake and demon, fiend and God;But yet we failed, with all our toil,To find the robber and the spoil.What can we more? If more we can,Devise, O King, and tell thy plan.' His chidren's speech King Sagar heard,And answered thus, to anger stirred:'Dig on, and ne'er your labour stayTill through earth's depths you force your way.Then smite the robber dead, and bringThe charger back with triumphing.'
The sixty thousand chiefs obeyed:Deep through the earth their way they made.Deep as they dug and deeper yetThe immortal elephant they met,Famed Virúpáksha 1 vast of size,Upon whose head the broad earth lies:The mighty beast who earth sustainsWith shaggy hills and wooded plains.When, with the changing moon, distressed,And longing for a moment's rest,His mighty head the monster shakes,Earth to the bottom reels and quakes.Around that warder strong and vastWith reverential steps they passed.Nor, when the honour due was paid,Their downward search through earth delayed.But turning from the east asideSouthward again their task they plied.There Mahápadma held his place,The best of all his mighty race,Like some huge hill, of monstrous girth,Upholding on his head the earth.When the vast beast the princes saw,They marvelled and were tilled with awe.The sons of high-souled Sagar roundThat elephant in reverence wound.Then in the western region theyWith might unwearied cleft their way.There saw they with astonisht eyesSaumanas, beast of mountain size.Round him with circling steps they wentWith greetings kind and reverent. On, on--no thought of rest or stay--They reached the seat of Soma's sway.There saw they Bhadra, white as snow,With lucky marks that fortune show,Bearing the earth upon his head.Round him they paced with solemn tread,
And honoured him with greetings kind,Then downward yet their way they mined.They gained the tract 'twixt east and northWhose fame is ever blazoned forth, 1bAnd by a storm of rage impelled,Digging through earth their course they held. Then all the princes, lofty-souled,Of wondrous vigour, strong and bold,Saw Vásudeva 2b standing thereIn Kapil's form he loved to wear,And near the everlasting GodThe victim charger cropped the sod.They saw with joy and eager eyesThe fancied robber and the prize,And on him rushed the furious bandCrying aloud, Stand, villain! stand!'Avaunt! avaunt!' great Kapil cried,His bosom flusht with passion's tide;Then by his might that proud arrayAll scorcht to heaps of ashes lay. 3b
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Footnotes51:1 Said to be so called from the Jambu, or Rose Apple, abounding in it, and signifying according to the Purána, the central division of the world, the known world.
51:1b Here used as a name of Vishnu.
51:2b Kings are called the husbands of their kingdoms or of the earth; 'She and his kingdom were his only brides.' Raghuvans'a.
'Doubly divorced! Bad men, you violate A double marriage, 'twixt my crown and me, And then between me and my married wife.' King Richard II. Act V. Sc. I.
51:3b The thirty-three Gods are said in the Aitareya. Bráhmana.Book 1. ch. II. 10. to be the eight Vasus, the eleven Rudras, the twelve Àdityas, Prajápati, either Brahmá or Daksha, and Vashatkára or deitied oblation. This must have been the actual number at the beginning of the Vedic religion gradually increased by successive mythical and religious creations till the Indian Pantheon was crowded with abstractions of every kind. Through the reverence with which the words of the Veda were regarded, the immense host of multiplied divinities, in later times, still bore the name of the Thirty-three Gods.
52:1 'One of the elephants which, according to an ancient belief popular in India, supported the earth with their enormous backs; when one of these elephants shook his wearied head the earth trembled with its woods and hills. An idea, or rather a mythical fancy, similar to this, but reduced to proportions less grand, is found in Virgil when he speaks of Enceladus buried under Ætna:
'Fama est Enceladi semiustum fulmine corpus Urgeri molo haec, ingentemque insuper Ætnam Impositam, ruptis flammam expirare caminis; Et fessum quoties mutat latus, intremere omnem Murmure Trinacriam, et coelum subtexere fumo.'
Æneid. Lib, III. GORRESIO.
CANTO XLII.:
SAGAR'S SACRIFICE.Then to the prince his grandson, brightWith his own fame's unborrowed light,King Sagar thus began to say,Marvelling at his sons' delay:'Thou art a warrior skilled and bold,Match for the mighty men of old.Now follow on thine uncles' courseAnd track the robber of the horse.
To guard thee take thy sword and bow,for huge and strong are beasts below.There to the reverend reverence pay,And kill the foes who check thy way;Then turn successful home and seeMy sacrifice complete through thee.'
Obedient to the high-souled lordGrasped Ans'umán his bow and sword,Aud hurried forth the way to traceWith youth and valour's eager pace.On sped he by the path he foundDug by his uncles underground,The warder elephant he sawWhose size and strength pass Nature's law,Who bears the world's tremendous weight,Whom God, fiend, giant venerate,Bird, serpent, and each flitting shade.To him the honour meet he paidWith circling steps and greeting due,And further prayed him, if he knew,To tell him of his uncles' weal,And who had dared the horse to steal.To him in war and council triedThe warder elephant replied:'Thou, son of Asamanj, shalt leadIn triumph back the rescued steed.'
As to each warder beast he cameAnd questioned all, his words the same,The honoured youth with gentle speechDrew eloquent reply from each,That fortune should his steps attend.And with the horse he home should wend.Cheered with the grateful answer, hePassed on with step more light and free,And reached with careless heart the placeWhere lay in ashes Sagar's race.Then sank the spirit of the chiefBeneath that shock of sudden grief,And with a bitter cry of woeHe mourned his kinsmen fallen so.He saw, weighed down by woe and care,The victim charger roaming there.Yet would the pious chieftain fainOblations offer to the slain:But, needing water for the rite,He looked and there was none in sight.His quick eye searching all aroundThe uncle of his kinsmen found,King Garud, best beyond compareOf birds who wing the fields of air.Then thus unto the weeping manThe son of Vinatá 1 began:Grieve not, O hero, for their fallWho died a death approved of all.Of mighty strength, they met their fateBy Kapil's hand whom none can mate.Pour forth for them no earthly wave,
A holier flood their spirits crave.If, daughter of the Lord of Snow,Gangá would turn her stream below,Her waves that cleanse all mortal stainWould wash their ashes pure again.Yea, when her flood whom all revereRolls o'er the dust that moulders here,The sixty thousand, freed from sin,A home in Indra's heaven shall win.Go, and with ceaseless labour tryTo draw the Goddess from the sky.Return, and with thee take the steed;So shall thy grandsire's rite succeed.'
Prince Ans'umán the strong and braveFollowed the rede Suparna 1b gave.The glorious hero took the horse,And homeward quickly bent his course.Straight to the anxious king he hied,Whom lustral rites had purified,The mournful story to unfoldAnd all the king of birds had told.The tale of woe the monarch heard,Nor longer was the rite deterred:With care and just observance heAccomplished all, as texts decree.The rites performed, with brighter fame,Mighty in counsel, home he came.He longed to bring the river down,But found no plan his wish to crown.He pondered long with anxious thoughtBut saw no way to what he sought.Thus thirty thousand years he spent,And then to heaven the monarch went.
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Footnotes52:1b 'The Devas and Asuras (Gods and Titans) fought in the east, the south, the west, and the north, and the Devas were defeated by the Asuras in all these directions. They then fought in the north-eastern direction; there the Devas did not sustain defeat. This direction is aparájitá, i. e. unconquerable. Thence one should do work in this direction, and have it done there; for such a one '(alone) is able to clear off his debts.' HAUG'S Aitareyaya Bráhmanam, Vol. II, p. 33.
The debts here spoken of are a man's religious obligations to the Gods, the Pitaras or Manes, and men.
52:2b Vishnu.
52:3b 'It appears to me that this mythical story has reference to the volcanic phenomena of nature. Kapil may very possibly be that hidden fiery force which suddenly unprisons itself and bursts forth in volcanic effects. Kapil is, moreover, one of the names of Agni the God of Fire.' GORRESIO.
53:1 Garud was the son of Kas'yap and Vinatá.
CANTO XLIII.:
To guard thee take thy sword and bow,for huge and strong are beasts below.There to the reverend reverence pay,And kill the foes who check thy way;Then turn successful home and seeMy sacrifice complete through thee.'
Obedient to the high-souled lordGrasped Ans'umán his bow and sword,Aud hurried forth the way to traceWith youth and valour's eager pace.On sped he by the path he foundDug by his uncles underground,The warder elephant he sawWhose size and strength pass Nature's law,Who bears the world's tremendous weight,Whom God, fiend, giant venerate,Bird, serpent, and each flitting shade.To him the honour meet he paidWith circling steps and greeting due,And further prayed him, if he knew,To tell him of his uncles' weal,And who had dared the horse to steal.To him in war and council triedThe warder elephant replied:'Thou, son of Asamanj, shalt leadIn triumph back the rescued steed.'
As to each warder beast he cameAnd questioned all, his words the same,The honoured youth with gentle speechDrew eloquent reply from each,That fortune should his steps attend.And with the horse he home should wend.Cheered with the grateful answer, hePassed on with step more light and free,And reached with careless heart the placeWhere lay in ashes Sagar's race.Then sank the spirit of the chiefBeneath that shock of sudden grief,And with a bitter cry of woeHe mourned his kinsmen fallen so.He saw, weighed down by woe and care,The victim charger roaming there.Yet would the pious chieftain fainOblations offer to the slain:But, needing water for the rite,He looked and there was none in sight.His quick eye searching all aroundThe uncle of his kinsmen found,King Garud, best beyond compareOf birds who wing the fields of air.Then thus unto the weeping manThe son of Vinatá 1 began:Grieve not, O hero, for their fallWho died a death approved of all.Of mighty strength, they met their fateBy Kapil's hand whom none can mate.Pour forth for them no earthly wave,
A holier flood their spirits crave.If, daughter of the Lord of Snow,Gangá would turn her stream below,Her waves that cleanse all mortal stainWould wash their ashes pure again.Yea, when her flood whom all revereRolls o'er the dust that moulders here,The sixty thousand, freed from sin,A home in Indra's heaven shall win.Go, and with ceaseless labour tryTo draw the Goddess from the sky.Return, and with thee take the steed;So shall thy grandsire's rite succeed.'
Prince Ans'umán the strong and braveFollowed the rede Suparna 1b gave.The glorious hero took the horse,And homeward quickly bent his course.Straight to the anxious king he hied,Whom lustral rites had purified,The mournful story to unfoldAnd all the king of birds had told.The tale of woe the monarch heard,Nor longer was the rite deterred:With care and just observance heAccomplished all, as texts decree.The rites performed, with brighter fame,Mighty in counsel, home he came.He longed to bring the river down,But found no plan his wish to crown.He pondered long with anxious thoughtBut saw no way to what he sought.Thus thirty thousand years he spent,And then to heaven the monarch went.
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Footnotes52:1b 'The Devas and Asuras (Gods and Titans) fought in the east, the south, the west, and the north, and the Devas were defeated by the Asuras in all these directions. They then fought in the north-eastern direction; there the Devas did not sustain defeat. This direction is aparájitá, i. e. unconquerable. Thence one should do work in this direction, and have it done there; for such a one '(alone) is able to clear off his debts.' HAUG'S Aitareyaya Bráhmanam, Vol. II, p. 33.
The debts here spoken of are a man's religious obligations to the Gods, the Pitaras or Manes, and men.
52:2b Vishnu.
52:3b 'It appears to me that this mythical story has reference to the volcanic phenomena of nature. Kapil may very possibly be that hidden fiery force which suddenly unprisons itself and bursts forth in volcanic effects. Kapil is, moreover, one of the names of Agni the God of Fire.' GORRESIO.
53:1 Garud was the son of Kas'yap and Vinatá.
CANTO XLIII.:
BHAGIRATH.When Sagar thus had bowed to fate,The lords and commons of the stateApproved with ready heart and willPrince Ans'umán his throne to fill.He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed,Sire of Dilípa justly famed.To him. his child and worthy heir,The king resigned his kingdom's care,And on Himálaya's pleasant sideHis task austere of penance plied.Bright as a God in clear renownHe planned to bring pure Gangá down.There on his fruitless hope intentTwice sixteen thousand years he spent,And in the grove of hermits stayedTill bliss in heaven his rites repaid.Dilípa then, the good and great,Soon as he learnt his kinsmen's fate,Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind,
Pondering long no cure could find.'How can I bring,' the mourner sighed,'To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide?How can I give them rest, and saveTheir spirits with the offered wave?'Long with this thought his bosom skilledIn holy discipline was filled.A son was born, Bhagirath named,Above all men for virtue famed.Dilipa many a rite ordained,And thirty thousand seasons reigned.But when no hope the king could seeHis kinsmen from their woe to free,The lord of men, by sickness tried,Obeyed the law of fate, and died;He left the kingdom to his son,And gained the heaven his deeds had won.The good Bhagirath, royal sage.Had no fair son to cheer his age.He, great in glory, pure in will,Longing for sons was childless still.Then on one wish, one thought intent,Planning the heavenly stream's descent,Leaving his ministers the careAnd burden of his state to bear,Dwelling in far Gokarna 1 heEngaged in long austerity.With senses checked, with arms upraised,Five fires 2 around and o'er him blazed.Each weary month the hermit passedBreaking but once his awful fast.In winter's chill the brook his bed,In rain, the clouds to screen his head.Thousands of years he thus enduredTill Brahmá's favour was assured,And the high Lord of living thingsLooked kindly on his sufferings.With trooping Gods the Sire came nearThe king who plied his task austere:'Blest Monarch, of a glorious race,Thy fervent rites have won my grace.Well hast thou wrought thine awful task:Some boon in turn, O Hermit, ask.'
Bhagirath, rich in glory's light,The hero with the arm of might,Thus to the Lord of earth and skyRaised suppliant hands and made reply:'If the great God his favour deigns,And my long toil its fruit obtains,Let Sagar's sons receive from meLibations that they long to see.Let Gangá with her holy waveThe ashes of the heroes lave,That so my kinsmen may ascendTo heavenly bliss that ne'er shall end.And give, I pray, O God, a son,Nor let my house be all undone.
Sire of the worlds! be this the graceBestowed upon Ikshváku's race.'
The Sire, when thus the king had prayed,In sweet kind words his answer made.'High, high thy thought and wishes are,Bhagirath of the mighty car!Ikshváku's line is blest in thee,And as thou prayest it shall be.Gangá, whose waves in Swarga 1b flow,Is daughter of the Lord of Snow.Win S'iva that his aid be lentTo hold her in her mid descent,For earth alone will never bearThose torrents hurled from upper air;And none may hold her weight but He,The Trident wielding deity.'Thus having said, the Lord supremeAddressed him to the heavenly stream;And then with Gods and Maruts 2b wentTo heaven above the firmament.
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Footnotes53:1b Garud.
54:1 A famous and venerated region near the Malabar coast.
54:2 That is four fires and the sun.
CANTO XLIV.: THE DESCENT OF GANGÀ.The Lord of life the skies regained:The fervent king a year remainedWith arms upraised, refusing restWhile with one toe the earth he pressed,Still as a post, with sleepless eye,The air his food, his roof the sky.Tho year had past. Then Umá's lord, 3bKing of creation, world adored,Thus spoke to great Bhagirath: 'IWell pleased thy wish will gratify,And on my head her waves shalll flingThe daughter of the Mountains' King!He stood upon the lofty crest That crowns the Lord of Snow,And bade the river of the Blest Descend on earth below.Himálaya's child, adored of all, The haughty mandate heard,And her proud bosom, at the call, With furious wrath was stirred.Down from her channel in the skies With awful might she spedWith a giant's rush, in a giant's size. On S'iva's holy head.'He calls me,' in her wrath she cried, 'And all my flood shall sweepAnd whirl him in its whelming tide To hell's profoundest deep.He held tne river on his head, And kept her wandering, where,Dense as Himalaya's woods, were spread The tangles of his hair.
No way to earth she found, ashamed, Though long and sore she strove,Condemned, until her pride were tamed, Amid his locks to rove.There, many lengthening seasons through, The wildered river ran:Bhagirath saw it, and anew His penance dire began.Then S'iva, for the hermit's sake, Bade her long wanderings end,And sinking into Vindu's lake Her weary waves descend.From Gangá, by the God set free, Seven noble rivers came;Hládiní, Pávaní, and she Called Naliní by name:These rolled their lucid waves along And sought the eastern side.Suchakshu, Sítá fair and strong, And Sindhu's mighty tide-- 1These to the region of the west With joyful waters sped:The seventh, the brightest and the best, Flowed where Bhagírath led.On S'iva's head descending first A rest the torrents found:Then down in all their might they burst And roared along the ground.On countless glittering scales the beam Of rosy morning flashed,Where flsh and dolphins through the stream Fallen and falling dashed.Then bards who chant celestial lays And nymphs of heavenly birthFlocked round upon that flow to gaze That streamed from sky and earth.The Gods themselves from every sphere, Incomparably bright,Borne in their golden cars drew near To see the wondrous sight.The cloudless sky was all aflame With the light of a hundred sunsWhere'er the shining chariots came That bore those holy ones.So flashed the air with crested snakes And fish of every hueAs when the lightning's glory breaks Through fields of summer blue.And white foam-clouds and silver spray Were wildly tossed on high,Like swans that urge their homeward way Across the autumn sky.Now ran the river calm and clear With current strong and deep:
Now slowly broadened to a mere, Or scarcely seemed to creep.Now o'er a length of sandy plain Her tranquil course she held:Now rose her waves and sank again, By refluent waves repelled.So falling first on S'iva's head,Thence rushing to their earthly bed,In ceaseless fall the waters streamed,And pure with holy lustre gleamed.Then every spirit, sage, and bard,Condemned to earth by sentence hard,Pressed eagerly around the tideThat S'iva's touch had sanctified.Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled,Accursed, to this lower world,Touched the pure wave, and freed from sinResought the skies and entered inAnd all the world was glad, whereonThe glorious water flowed and shone,For sin and stain were banished thenceBy the sweet river's influence.First, in a car of heavenly frame,The royal saint of deathless name,Bhagírath, very glorious rode,And after him fair Gangá flowed.God, sage, and bard, the chief in placeOf spirits and the Nága race,Nymph, giant, fiend, in long arraySped where Bhagírath led the way;And all the hosts the flood that swimFollowed the stream that followed him.Where'er the great Bhagírath led,There ever glorious Gangá fled,The best of floods, the rivers' queen,Whose waters wash the wicked clean. It chanced that Jahnu, great and good,Engaged with holy offering stood;The river spread her waves aroundFlooding his sacrificial ground.The saint in anger marked her pride,And at one draught her stream he dried.Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid,To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed,And begged that he would kindly deemHis own dear child that holy stream.Moved by their suit, he soothed their fearsAnd loosed her waters from his ears.Hence Gangá through the world is styledBoth Jáhnavi and Jahnu's child.Then onward still she followed fast,And reached the great sea bank at last.Thence deep below her way she madeTo end those rites so long delayed.The monarch reached the Ocean's side,And still behind him Gangá hied.He sought the depths which open layWhere Sagar's sons had dug their way.So leading through earth's nether cavesThe river's purifying waves.
Over his kinsmen's dust the lordHis funeral libation poured.Soon as the flood their dust bedewed,Their spirits gained beatitude,And all in heavenly bodies dressedRose to the skies' eternal rest.
Then thus to King Bhagírath saidBrahmá, when, coming at the headOf all his bright celestial train,He saw those spirits freed from stain:'Well done! great Prince of men, well done!Thy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.The sons of Sagar mighty-souled,Are with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled,Long as the Ocean's flood shall standUpon the border of the land,So long shall Sagar's sons remain,And, godlike, rank in heaven retain.Gangá thine eldest child shall be.Called from thy name Bhágirathí;Named also--for her waters fellFrom heaven and flow through earth and hell--Tripathagá, stream of the skies.Because three paths she glorifies,And, mighty King, 'tis given thee nowTo free thee and perform thy vow.No longer, happy Prince, delayDrink-offerings to thy kin to pay,For this the holiest Sagar sighed,But mourned the boon he sought denied.Then Ans'umán, dear Prince! althoughNo brighter name the world could show,Strove long the heavenly flood to gainTo visit earth, but strove in vain.Nor was she by the sages' peer,Blest with all virtues, most austere,Thy sire Dilipa, hither brought,Though with fierce prayers the boon he sought.But thou, O King, earned success,And won high fame which God will bless.Through thee, O victor of thy foes,On earth this heavenly Gangá flows,And thou hast gained the meed divineThat waits on virtue such as thine.Now in her ever holy waveThyself, O best of heroes, lave:So shalt thou, pure from every sin,The blessed fruit of merit win.Now for thy kin who died of yoreThe meet libations duly pour.Above the heavens I now ascend:Depart, and bliss thy steps attend.'
Thus to the mighty king who brokeHie foemens' might, Lord Brahmá spoke,And with his Gods around him roseTo his own heaven of blest repose.The royal sage no more delayed,
But, the libation duly paid,Home to his regal city hiedWith water cleansed and purified.There ruled he his ancestral state,Best of all men, most fortunate.And all the people joyed againIn good Bhagírath's gentle reign.Rich, prosperous, and blest were they,And grief and sickness fled away.Thus, Ráma, I at length have toldHow Gangá came from heaven of old.Now, for the evening passes swift,I wish thee each auspicious gift.This story of the flood's descentWill give--for' tis most excellent--Wealth, purity, fame, length of days,And to the skies its hearers raise.'
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Footnotes54:1b Heaven.
54:2b Wind-Gods.
54:3b S'iva.
55:1 The lake Vindu does not exist. Of the seven rivers here mentioned two only, the Ganges and the Sindhu or Indus, are known to geographers. Hládiní means the Gladdener, Pávaní the Purifier, Naliní the Lotus-Clad, and Suchakshu the Fair-eyed.
CANTO XLV.: THE QUEST OF THE AMRIT.High and more high their wonder roseAs the strange story reached its close,And thus, with Lakshman, Ráma, bestOf Raghu's sons, the saint addressed:'Most wondrous is the tale which thouHast told of heavenly Gangá, howFrom realms above descending sheFlowed through the land and filled the sea.In thinking o'er what thou hast saidThe night has like a moment fled,Whose hours in musing have been spentUpon thy words most excellent:So much, O holy Sage, thy loreHas charmed us with this tale of yore.'
Day dawned. The morning rites were doneAnd the victorious Raghu's sonAddressed the sage in words like these,Rich in his long austerities:'The night is past: the morn is clear;Told is the tale so good to hear:Now o'er that river let us go,Three-pathed, the best of all that flow.This boat stands ready on the shoreTo bear the holy hermits o'er,Who of thy coming warned, in haste,The barge upon the bank have placed.'
And Kas'ik's son approved his speech,And moving to the sandy beach,Placed in the boat the hermit band,And reached the river's further strand.On the north bank their feet they set,And greeted all the (illegible) they met.On Gangá's shore they lighted down,And saw Vis'ada's lovely town.Thither, the princes by his side,The best of holy hermits hied.It was a town exceeding fair
That might with heaven itself compare.Then, suppliant palm to palm applied,Famed Ráma asked his holy guide:'O best of hermits, say what raceOf monarchs rules this lovely place.Dear master, let my prayer prevail,For much I long to hear the tale.'Moved by his words, the saintly manVis'álá's ancient tale began:'List, Rama, list, with closest heedThe tale of Indra's wondrous deed,And mark me as I truly tellWhat here in ancient days befell.Ere Krita's famous Age 1 had fled.Strong were the sons of Diti 2 bred;And Aditi's brave children tooWere very mighty, good, and true.The rival brothers fierce and boldWere sons of Kas'yap lofty-souled.Of sister mothers born, they vied,Brood against brood, in jealous pride.Once, as they say, band met with band,And, joined in awful council, plannedTo live, unharmed by age and time,Immortal in their youthful prime.Then this was, after due debate,The counsel of the wise and great,To churn with might the milky sea 3The life-bestowing drink to free.This planned, they seized the Serpent King,Vásuki, for their churning-string,And Mandar's mountain for their pole,And churned with all their heart and soul.As thus, a thousand seasons through,This way and that the snake they drew,Biting the rocks, each tortured head,A very deadly venom shed.Thence, bursting like a mighty flame,A pestilential poison came,Consuming, as it onward ran,The home of God, and fiend, and man.Then all the suppliant Gods in fearTo S'ankar 4, mighty lord, drew near.To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed,'Save us, O save us, Lord!' they prayed.Then Vishnu, bearing shell, and mace,And discus, showed his radiant face,And thus addressed in smiling gleeThe Trident wielding deity:What treasure first the Gods upturnFrom troubled Ocean, as they churn,Should--for thou art the eldest--beConferred, O best of Gods, on thee.
Then come, and for thy birthright's sake,This venom as thy firstfruits take.'He spoke, and vanished from their sight.When Siva saw their wild affright,And heard his speech by whom is borneThe mighty bow of bending horn, 1bThe poisoned flood at once he quaffedAs 'twere the Amrit's heavenly draught.Then from the Gods departing wentS'iva, the Lord pre-eminent.The host of Gods and Asurs stillKept churning with one heart and will.But Mandar's mountain, whirling round.Pierced to the depths below the ground.Then Gods and bards in terror flewTo him who mighty Madhu slew.'Help of all beings! more than all,The Gods on thee for aid may call.Ward off, O mighty-armed! our fate,And bear up Mandar's threatening weight.'Then Vishnu, as their need was sore,The semblance of a tortoise wore,And in the bed of Ocean layThe mountain on his back to stay.Then he, the soul pervading all,Whose locks in radiant tresses fall,One mighty arm extended still,And grasped the summit of the hill.So ranged among the Immortals, heJoined in the churning of the sea.
A thousand years had reached their close,When calmly from the ocean roseThe gentle sage 2b with staff and can,Lord of the art of healing man.Then as the waters foamed and boiled.As churning still the Immortals toiled,Of winning face and lovely frame,Forth sixty million fair ones came.Born of the foam and water, theseWere aptly named Apsarases. 3b
Each had her maids. The tongue would fail--So vast the throng--to count the tale,But when no God or Titan wooedA wife from all that multitude,Refused by all, they gave their loveIn common to the Gods above.Then from the sea still vext and wildRose Surá, 1 Varun's maiden child.A fitting match she sought to find:But Diti's sons her love declined.Their kinsmen of the rival broodTo the pure maid in honour sued.Hence those who loved that nymph so fairThe hallowed name of Suras bear.And Asurs are the Titan crowdHer gentle claims who disallowed.Then from the foamy sea was freedUchchaihs'ravas, 2 the generous steed,And Kaustubha, of gems the gem, 3And Soma, Moon God, after them.
At length when many a year had fled,Up floated, on her lotus bed,A maiden fair and tender-eyed,In the young flush of beauty's pride.She shone with pearl and golden sheen,And seals of glory stamped her queen.On each round arm glowed many a gem,On her smooth brows, a diadem,Rolling in waves beneath her crownThe glory of her hair flowed down.Pearls on her neck of price untold,The lady shone like burnisht gold.Queen of the Gods, she leapt to land,A lotus in her perfect hand,
And fondly, of the lotus-sprung,To lotus-bearing Vishnu clung.Her Gods above and men belowAs Beauty's Queen and Fortune know. 1bGods, Titans, and the minstrel trainStill churned and wrought the troubled main.At length the prize so madly sought,The Amrit, to their sight was brought.For the rich spoil,'twixt these and thoseA fratricidal war arose,And, host 'gainst host in battle, set,Aditi's sons and Diti's met.United, with the giants' aid,Their fierce attack the Titans made,And wildly raged for many a dayThat universe-astounding fray.When wearied arms were faint to strike,And ruin threatened all alike,Vishnu, with art's illusive aid,The Amrit from their sight conveyed.That Best of Beings smote his foesWho dared his deathless arm oppose:Yea, Vishnu, all-pervading God,Beneath his feet the Titans trodAditi's race, the sons of light,slew Diti's brood in cruel fight.Then town-destroying 2b Indra gainedHis empire, and in glory reignedO'er the three worlds with bard and sageRejoicing in his heritage.
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Footnotes57:1 The first or Golden Age.
57:2 Diti and Aditi were wives of Kas'yap, and mothers respectively of Titans and Gods.
57:3 One of the seven seas surrounding as many worlds in concentric rings.
57:4 S'ankar and Rudra are names of S'iva.
57:1b S'árigin, literally carrying a bow of horn, is a constantly recurring name of Vishnu. The Indians also, therefore, knew the art of making bows out of the hons of antelopes or wild goats, which Homer ascribes to the Trojans of the heroic age.' SCHLEGEL.
57:2b Dhanvantari, the physician of the Gods.
57:3b The poet plays upon the word and fancifully derives it from apsu, the locative case plural of ap, water, and rasa, taste.... The word is probably derived from ap, water, and sri, to go, and seems to signify inhabitants of the water, nymphs of the stream; or, as Goldstücker thinks (Dict. s.v.) these divinities were originally personifications of the vapours which are attracted by the sun and form into mist or clouds.
58:1 'Surá, the feminine comprehends all sorts of intoxicating liquors, many kinds of which the Indians from the earliest times distilled and prepared from rice, sugar-cane, the palm tree, and various flowers and plants. Nothing is considered more disgraceful among orthodox Hindus than drunkenness, and the use of wine is forbidden not only to Bráhmans but the two other orders as well.... So it clearly appears derogatory to the dignity of the Gods to have received a nymph so pernicious, who ought rather to have been made over to the Titans. However the etymological fancy has prevailed. The word Sura, a God, is derived from the indeclinable Svar heaven.' SCHLEGEL.
58:2 Literally, high-eared, the horse of Indra. Compare the production of the horse from the sea by Neptune.
58:3
'And Kaustubha the best Of gems that burns with living light Upon Lord Vishnu's breast.' Churning of the Ocean.
CANTO XLVI.: DITI'S HOPE.But Diti, when her sons were slain,Wild with a childless mother's pain.To Kas'yap spake, Marícha's son,Her husband: 'O thou glorious one!
Dead are the children, mine no more,The mighty sons to thee I bore.Long fervour's meed, I crave a boyWhose arm may Indra's life destroy.The toil and pain my care shall be:To bless my hope depends on thee.Give me a mighty son to slayFierce Indra, gracious lord, I pray.'
Then glorious Kas'yap thus repliedTo Diti, as she wept and sighed:'Thy prayer is heard, dear saint! RemainPure from all spot, and thou shalt gainA son whose arm shall take the lifeOf Indra in the battle strife.For full a thousand years endureFree from all stain, supremely pure;Then shall thy son and mine appear,Whom the three worlds shall serve with fear.'These words the glorious Kas'yap said,Then gently stroked his consort's head,Blessed her, and bade a kind adieu,And turned him to his rites anew.Soon as her lord had left her side,Her bosom swelled with joy and pride.She sought the shade of holy boughs,And there began her awful vows.While yet she wrought her rites austere,Indra, unbidden, hastened near,With sweet observance tending her,A reverential minister.Wood, water, fire, and grass he brought,Sweet roots and woodland fruit he sought,And all her wants, the Thousand-eyed,With never-failing care, supplied,With tender love and soft caressRemoving pain and weariness.
When, of the thousand years ordained,Ten only unfulfilled remained,Thus to her son, the Thousand-eyed,The Goddess in her triumph cried:'Best of the mighty! there remainBut ten short years of toil and pain;These years of penance soon will flee,And a new brother thou shalt see.Him for thy sake I'll nobly breed,And lust of war his soul shall feed;Then free from care and sorrow thouShalt see the worlds before him bow.' 1
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Footnotes58:1b 'That this story of the birth of Lakshimi is of considerable antiquity is evident from one of her names *Kshirábdhi-tanayá, daughter of the Milky Sea, which is found in Amarasinha the most ancient of Indian lexicographers. The similarity to the Greek myth of Venus being born from the foam of the sea is remarkable.'
'In this description of Lakshmi one thing only offends me, that she is said to have four arms. Each of Vishnu's arms, single, as far as the elbow, there branches into two; but Lakshmi in all the brass seals that I possess or remember to have seen has two arms only. Nor does this deformity of redundant limbs suit the pattern of perfect beauty.' SCHLEGEL. I have omitted the offensive epithet.
58:2b Purandhar, a common title of Indra.
CANTO XLVII.: SUMATÍ.Thus to Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed,Softly beseeching Diti sighed.
When but a blighted bud was left,Which Indra's hand in seven had cleft: 1b'No fault, O Lord of Gods, is thine;The blame herein is only mine.But for one grace I fain would pray,As thou hast reft this hope away.This bud, O Indra, which a blightHas withered ere it saw the light--From this may seven fair spirits riseTo rule the regions of the skies.Be theirs through heaven's unbounded spaceOn shoulders of the winds to race,My children, drest in heavenly forms,Far-famed as Maruts, Gods of storms.One God to Brahmá's sphere assign,Let one, O Indra, watch o'er thine;And ranging through the lower air,The third the name of Vayu 2b bear.Gods let the four remaining be,And roam through space, obeying thee.'
The Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed,Who smote fierce Bali till he died,Joined suppliant hands, and thus replied:'Thy children heavenly forms shall wear;The names devised by thee shall bear,And, Maruts called by my decree,Shall Amrit drink and wait on me.From fear and age and sickness freed.Through the three worlds their wings shall speed.'Thus in the hermits' holy shadeMother and son their compact made,And then, as fame relates, content,Home to the happy skies they went.This is the spot--so men have told--Where Lord Mahendra 3b dwelt of old,This is the blessed region whereHis votaress mother claimed his care.Here gentle Alambúshá bareTo old Ikshváku, king and sage,Vis'álá, glory of his age,By whom, a monarch void of guilt,Was this fair town Vis'álá built.
His son was Hemachandra, stillRenowned for might and warlike skill.From him the great Suchandra came;His son, Dhúmrás'va, dear to fame.Next followed royal Srinjay; thenFamed Sahadeva, lord of men.Next came Kus'ás'va, good and mild,Whose son was Somadatta styled,And Sumati, his heir, the peerOf Gods above, now governs here.And ever through Ikshváku's grace,Vis'álá's kings, his noble race,Are lofty-souled, and blest with lengthOf days, with virtue, and with strength.This night, O prince, we here will sleep;And when the day begins to peep,Our onward way will take with thee,The king of Mithilá to see.'
Then Sumati, the king, awareOf Vis'vámitra's advent thereCame quickly forth with (illegible) meetThe lofty-minded sage to greet.Girt with his priest and lords the kingDid low obeisance, worshipping.With suppliant hands, with head inclined,Thus spoke he after question kind;'Since thou hast deigned to bless my sight, And grace awhile thy servant's seat,High fate is mine, great Anchorite, And none may with my bliss compete.'
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Footnotes59:1 A few verses are here left untranslated on account of the subject and language being offensive to modern taste.
59:1b 'In this myth of Indra destroying the unborn fruit of Diti with his thunderbolt, from which afterwards came the Maruts or Gods of Wind and Storm, geological phenomena are, it seems, represented under mythical images. In the great Mother of the Gods is, perhaps, figured the dry earth: Indra the God of thunder rends it open, and there issue from its rent bosom the Maruts or exhalations of the earth. But such ancient myths are difficult to interpret with absolute certainty.' GORRESIO.
59:2b Wind.
59:3b Indra, with mahá, great, prefixed.
Pondering long no cure could find.'How can I bring,' the mourner sighed,'To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide?How can I give them rest, and saveTheir spirits with the offered wave?'Long with this thought his bosom skilledIn holy discipline was filled.A son was born, Bhagirath named,Above all men for virtue famed.Dilipa many a rite ordained,And thirty thousand seasons reigned.But when no hope the king could seeHis kinsmen from their woe to free,The lord of men, by sickness tried,Obeyed the law of fate, and died;He left the kingdom to his son,And gained the heaven his deeds had won.The good Bhagirath, royal sage.Had no fair son to cheer his age.He, great in glory, pure in will,Longing for sons was childless still.Then on one wish, one thought intent,Planning the heavenly stream's descent,Leaving his ministers the careAnd burden of his state to bear,Dwelling in far Gokarna 1 heEngaged in long austerity.With senses checked, with arms upraised,Five fires 2 around and o'er him blazed.Each weary month the hermit passedBreaking but once his awful fast.In winter's chill the brook his bed,In rain, the clouds to screen his head.Thousands of years he thus enduredTill Brahmá's favour was assured,And the high Lord of living thingsLooked kindly on his sufferings.With trooping Gods the Sire came nearThe king who plied his task austere:'Blest Monarch, of a glorious race,Thy fervent rites have won my grace.Well hast thou wrought thine awful task:Some boon in turn, O Hermit, ask.'
Bhagirath, rich in glory's light,The hero with the arm of might,Thus to the Lord of earth and skyRaised suppliant hands and made reply:'If the great God his favour deigns,And my long toil its fruit obtains,Let Sagar's sons receive from meLibations that they long to see.Let Gangá with her holy waveThe ashes of the heroes lave,That so my kinsmen may ascendTo heavenly bliss that ne'er shall end.And give, I pray, O God, a son,Nor let my house be all undone.
Sire of the worlds! be this the graceBestowed upon Ikshváku's race.'
The Sire, when thus the king had prayed,In sweet kind words his answer made.'High, high thy thought and wishes are,Bhagirath of the mighty car!Ikshváku's line is blest in thee,And as thou prayest it shall be.Gangá, whose waves in Swarga 1b flow,Is daughter of the Lord of Snow.Win S'iva that his aid be lentTo hold her in her mid descent,For earth alone will never bearThose torrents hurled from upper air;And none may hold her weight but He,The Trident wielding deity.'Thus having said, the Lord supremeAddressed him to the heavenly stream;And then with Gods and Maruts 2b wentTo heaven above the firmament.
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Footnotes53:1b Garud.
54:1 A famous and venerated region near the Malabar coast.
54:2 That is four fires and the sun.
CANTO XLIV.: THE DESCENT OF GANGÀ.The Lord of life the skies regained:The fervent king a year remainedWith arms upraised, refusing restWhile with one toe the earth he pressed,Still as a post, with sleepless eye,The air his food, his roof the sky.Tho year had past. Then Umá's lord, 3bKing of creation, world adored,Thus spoke to great Bhagirath: 'IWell pleased thy wish will gratify,And on my head her waves shalll flingThe daughter of the Mountains' King!He stood upon the lofty crest That crowns the Lord of Snow,And bade the river of the Blest Descend on earth below.Himálaya's child, adored of all, The haughty mandate heard,And her proud bosom, at the call, With furious wrath was stirred.Down from her channel in the skies With awful might she spedWith a giant's rush, in a giant's size. On S'iva's holy head.'He calls me,' in her wrath she cried, 'And all my flood shall sweepAnd whirl him in its whelming tide To hell's profoundest deep.He held tne river on his head, And kept her wandering, where,Dense as Himalaya's woods, were spread The tangles of his hair.
No way to earth she found, ashamed, Though long and sore she strove,Condemned, until her pride were tamed, Amid his locks to rove.There, many lengthening seasons through, The wildered river ran:Bhagirath saw it, and anew His penance dire began.Then S'iva, for the hermit's sake, Bade her long wanderings end,And sinking into Vindu's lake Her weary waves descend.From Gangá, by the God set free, Seven noble rivers came;Hládiní, Pávaní, and she Called Naliní by name:These rolled their lucid waves along And sought the eastern side.Suchakshu, Sítá fair and strong, And Sindhu's mighty tide-- 1These to the region of the west With joyful waters sped:The seventh, the brightest and the best, Flowed where Bhagírath led.On S'iva's head descending first A rest the torrents found:Then down in all their might they burst And roared along the ground.On countless glittering scales the beam Of rosy morning flashed,Where flsh and dolphins through the stream Fallen and falling dashed.Then bards who chant celestial lays And nymphs of heavenly birthFlocked round upon that flow to gaze That streamed from sky and earth.The Gods themselves from every sphere, Incomparably bright,Borne in their golden cars drew near To see the wondrous sight.The cloudless sky was all aflame With the light of a hundred sunsWhere'er the shining chariots came That bore those holy ones.So flashed the air with crested snakes And fish of every hueAs when the lightning's glory breaks Through fields of summer blue.And white foam-clouds and silver spray Were wildly tossed on high,Like swans that urge their homeward way Across the autumn sky.Now ran the river calm and clear With current strong and deep:
Now slowly broadened to a mere, Or scarcely seemed to creep.Now o'er a length of sandy plain Her tranquil course she held:Now rose her waves and sank again, By refluent waves repelled.So falling first on S'iva's head,Thence rushing to their earthly bed,In ceaseless fall the waters streamed,And pure with holy lustre gleamed.Then every spirit, sage, and bard,Condemned to earth by sentence hard,Pressed eagerly around the tideThat S'iva's touch had sanctified.Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled,Accursed, to this lower world,Touched the pure wave, and freed from sinResought the skies and entered inAnd all the world was glad, whereonThe glorious water flowed and shone,For sin and stain were banished thenceBy the sweet river's influence.First, in a car of heavenly frame,The royal saint of deathless name,Bhagírath, very glorious rode,And after him fair Gangá flowed.God, sage, and bard, the chief in placeOf spirits and the Nága race,Nymph, giant, fiend, in long arraySped where Bhagírath led the way;And all the hosts the flood that swimFollowed the stream that followed him.Where'er the great Bhagírath led,There ever glorious Gangá fled,The best of floods, the rivers' queen,Whose waters wash the wicked clean. It chanced that Jahnu, great and good,Engaged with holy offering stood;The river spread her waves aroundFlooding his sacrificial ground.The saint in anger marked her pride,And at one draught her stream he dried.Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid,To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed,And begged that he would kindly deemHis own dear child that holy stream.Moved by their suit, he soothed their fearsAnd loosed her waters from his ears.Hence Gangá through the world is styledBoth Jáhnavi and Jahnu's child.Then onward still she followed fast,And reached the great sea bank at last.Thence deep below her way she madeTo end those rites so long delayed.The monarch reached the Ocean's side,And still behind him Gangá hied.He sought the depths which open layWhere Sagar's sons had dug their way.So leading through earth's nether cavesThe river's purifying waves.
Over his kinsmen's dust the lordHis funeral libation poured.Soon as the flood their dust bedewed,Their spirits gained beatitude,And all in heavenly bodies dressedRose to the skies' eternal rest.
Then thus to King Bhagírath saidBrahmá, when, coming at the headOf all his bright celestial train,He saw those spirits freed from stain:'Well done! great Prince of men, well done!Thy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.The sons of Sagar mighty-souled,Are with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled,Long as the Ocean's flood shall standUpon the border of the land,So long shall Sagar's sons remain,And, godlike, rank in heaven retain.Gangá thine eldest child shall be.Called from thy name Bhágirathí;Named also--for her waters fellFrom heaven and flow through earth and hell--Tripathagá, stream of the skies.Because three paths she glorifies,And, mighty King, 'tis given thee nowTo free thee and perform thy vow.No longer, happy Prince, delayDrink-offerings to thy kin to pay,For this the holiest Sagar sighed,But mourned the boon he sought denied.Then Ans'umán, dear Prince! althoughNo brighter name the world could show,Strove long the heavenly flood to gainTo visit earth, but strove in vain.Nor was she by the sages' peer,Blest with all virtues, most austere,Thy sire Dilipa, hither brought,Though with fierce prayers the boon he sought.But thou, O King, earned success,And won high fame which God will bless.Through thee, O victor of thy foes,On earth this heavenly Gangá flows,And thou hast gained the meed divineThat waits on virtue such as thine.Now in her ever holy waveThyself, O best of heroes, lave:So shalt thou, pure from every sin,The blessed fruit of merit win.Now for thy kin who died of yoreThe meet libations duly pour.Above the heavens I now ascend:Depart, and bliss thy steps attend.'
Thus to the mighty king who brokeHie foemens' might, Lord Brahmá spoke,And with his Gods around him roseTo his own heaven of blest repose.The royal sage no more delayed,
But, the libation duly paid,Home to his regal city hiedWith water cleansed and purified.There ruled he his ancestral state,Best of all men, most fortunate.And all the people joyed againIn good Bhagírath's gentle reign.Rich, prosperous, and blest were they,And grief and sickness fled away.Thus, Ráma, I at length have toldHow Gangá came from heaven of old.Now, for the evening passes swift,I wish thee each auspicious gift.This story of the flood's descentWill give--for' tis most excellent--Wealth, purity, fame, length of days,And to the skies its hearers raise.'
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Footnotes54:1b Heaven.
54:2b Wind-Gods.
54:3b S'iva.
55:1 The lake Vindu does not exist. Of the seven rivers here mentioned two only, the Ganges and the Sindhu or Indus, are known to geographers. Hládiní means the Gladdener, Pávaní the Purifier, Naliní the Lotus-Clad, and Suchakshu the Fair-eyed.
CANTO XLV.: THE QUEST OF THE AMRIT.High and more high their wonder roseAs the strange story reached its close,And thus, with Lakshman, Ráma, bestOf Raghu's sons, the saint addressed:'Most wondrous is the tale which thouHast told of heavenly Gangá, howFrom realms above descending sheFlowed through the land and filled the sea.In thinking o'er what thou hast saidThe night has like a moment fled,Whose hours in musing have been spentUpon thy words most excellent:So much, O holy Sage, thy loreHas charmed us with this tale of yore.'
Day dawned. The morning rites were doneAnd the victorious Raghu's sonAddressed the sage in words like these,Rich in his long austerities:'The night is past: the morn is clear;Told is the tale so good to hear:Now o'er that river let us go,Three-pathed, the best of all that flow.This boat stands ready on the shoreTo bear the holy hermits o'er,Who of thy coming warned, in haste,The barge upon the bank have placed.'
And Kas'ik's son approved his speech,And moving to the sandy beach,Placed in the boat the hermit band,And reached the river's further strand.On the north bank their feet they set,And greeted all the (illegible) they met.On Gangá's shore they lighted down,And saw Vis'ada's lovely town.Thither, the princes by his side,The best of holy hermits hied.It was a town exceeding fair
That might with heaven itself compare.Then, suppliant palm to palm applied,Famed Ráma asked his holy guide:'O best of hermits, say what raceOf monarchs rules this lovely place.Dear master, let my prayer prevail,For much I long to hear the tale.'Moved by his words, the saintly manVis'álá's ancient tale began:'List, Rama, list, with closest heedThe tale of Indra's wondrous deed,And mark me as I truly tellWhat here in ancient days befell.Ere Krita's famous Age 1 had fled.Strong were the sons of Diti 2 bred;And Aditi's brave children tooWere very mighty, good, and true.The rival brothers fierce and boldWere sons of Kas'yap lofty-souled.Of sister mothers born, they vied,Brood against brood, in jealous pride.Once, as they say, band met with band,And, joined in awful council, plannedTo live, unharmed by age and time,Immortal in their youthful prime.Then this was, after due debate,The counsel of the wise and great,To churn with might the milky sea 3The life-bestowing drink to free.This planned, they seized the Serpent King,Vásuki, for their churning-string,And Mandar's mountain for their pole,And churned with all their heart and soul.As thus, a thousand seasons through,This way and that the snake they drew,Biting the rocks, each tortured head,A very deadly venom shed.Thence, bursting like a mighty flame,A pestilential poison came,Consuming, as it onward ran,The home of God, and fiend, and man.Then all the suppliant Gods in fearTo S'ankar 4, mighty lord, drew near.To Rudra, King of Herds, dismayed,'Save us, O save us, Lord!' they prayed.Then Vishnu, bearing shell, and mace,And discus, showed his radiant face,And thus addressed in smiling gleeThe Trident wielding deity:What treasure first the Gods upturnFrom troubled Ocean, as they churn,Should--for thou art the eldest--beConferred, O best of Gods, on thee.
Then come, and for thy birthright's sake,This venom as thy firstfruits take.'He spoke, and vanished from their sight.When Siva saw their wild affright,And heard his speech by whom is borneThe mighty bow of bending horn, 1bThe poisoned flood at once he quaffedAs 'twere the Amrit's heavenly draught.Then from the Gods departing wentS'iva, the Lord pre-eminent.The host of Gods and Asurs stillKept churning with one heart and will.But Mandar's mountain, whirling round.Pierced to the depths below the ground.Then Gods and bards in terror flewTo him who mighty Madhu slew.'Help of all beings! more than all,The Gods on thee for aid may call.Ward off, O mighty-armed! our fate,And bear up Mandar's threatening weight.'Then Vishnu, as their need was sore,The semblance of a tortoise wore,And in the bed of Ocean layThe mountain on his back to stay.Then he, the soul pervading all,Whose locks in radiant tresses fall,One mighty arm extended still,And grasped the summit of the hill.So ranged among the Immortals, heJoined in the churning of the sea.
A thousand years had reached their close,When calmly from the ocean roseThe gentle sage 2b with staff and can,Lord of the art of healing man.Then as the waters foamed and boiled.As churning still the Immortals toiled,Of winning face and lovely frame,Forth sixty million fair ones came.Born of the foam and water, theseWere aptly named Apsarases. 3b
Each had her maids. The tongue would fail--So vast the throng--to count the tale,But when no God or Titan wooedA wife from all that multitude,Refused by all, they gave their loveIn common to the Gods above.Then from the sea still vext and wildRose Surá, 1 Varun's maiden child.A fitting match she sought to find:But Diti's sons her love declined.Their kinsmen of the rival broodTo the pure maid in honour sued.Hence those who loved that nymph so fairThe hallowed name of Suras bear.And Asurs are the Titan crowdHer gentle claims who disallowed.Then from the foamy sea was freedUchchaihs'ravas, 2 the generous steed,And Kaustubha, of gems the gem, 3And Soma, Moon God, after them.
At length when many a year had fled,Up floated, on her lotus bed,A maiden fair and tender-eyed,In the young flush of beauty's pride.She shone with pearl and golden sheen,And seals of glory stamped her queen.On each round arm glowed many a gem,On her smooth brows, a diadem,Rolling in waves beneath her crownThe glory of her hair flowed down.Pearls on her neck of price untold,The lady shone like burnisht gold.Queen of the Gods, she leapt to land,A lotus in her perfect hand,
And fondly, of the lotus-sprung,To lotus-bearing Vishnu clung.Her Gods above and men belowAs Beauty's Queen and Fortune know. 1bGods, Titans, and the minstrel trainStill churned and wrought the troubled main.At length the prize so madly sought,The Amrit, to their sight was brought.For the rich spoil,'twixt these and thoseA fratricidal war arose,And, host 'gainst host in battle, set,Aditi's sons and Diti's met.United, with the giants' aid,Their fierce attack the Titans made,And wildly raged for many a dayThat universe-astounding fray.When wearied arms were faint to strike,And ruin threatened all alike,Vishnu, with art's illusive aid,The Amrit from their sight conveyed.That Best of Beings smote his foesWho dared his deathless arm oppose:Yea, Vishnu, all-pervading God,Beneath his feet the Titans trodAditi's race, the sons of light,slew Diti's brood in cruel fight.Then town-destroying 2b Indra gainedHis empire, and in glory reignedO'er the three worlds with bard and sageRejoicing in his heritage.
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Footnotes57:1 The first or Golden Age.
57:2 Diti and Aditi were wives of Kas'yap, and mothers respectively of Titans and Gods.
57:3 One of the seven seas surrounding as many worlds in concentric rings.
57:4 S'ankar and Rudra are names of S'iva.
57:1b S'árigin, literally carrying a bow of horn, is a constantly recurring name of Vishnu. The Indians also, therefore, knew the art of making bows out of the hons of antelopes or wild goats, which Homer ascribes to the Trojans of the heroic age.' SCHLEGEL.
57:2b Dhanvantari, the physician of the Gods.
57:3b The poet plays upon the word and fancifully derives it from apsu, the locative case plural of ap, water, and rasa, taste.... The word is probably derived from ap, water, and sri, to go, and seems to signify inhabitants of the water, nymphs of the stream; or, as Goldstücker thinks (Dict. s.v.) these divinities were originally personifications of the vapours which are attracted by the sun and form into mist or clouds.
58:1 'Surá, the feminine comprehends all sorts of intoxicating liquors, many kinds of which the Indians from the earliest times distilled and prepared from rice, sugar-cane, the palm tree, and various flowers and plants. Nothing is considered more disgraceful among orthodox Hindus than drunkenness, and the use of wine is forbidden not only to Bráhmans but the two other orders as well.... So it clearly appears derogatory to the dignity of the Gods to have received a nymph so pernicious, who ought rather to have been made over to the Titans. However the etymological fancy has prevailed. The word Sura, a God, is derived from the indeclinable Svar heaven.' SCHLEGEL.
58:2 Literally, high-eared, the horse of Indra. Compare the production of the horse from the sea by Neptune.
58:3
'And Kaustubha the best Of gems that burns with living light Upon Lord Vishnu's breast.' Churning of the Ocean.
CANTO XLVI.: DITI'S HOPE.But Diti, when her sons were slain,Wild with a childless mother's pain.To Kas'yap spake, Marícha's son,Her husband: 'O thou glorious one!
Dead are the children, mine no more,The mighty sons to thee I bore.Long fervour's meed, I crave a boyWhose arm may Indra's life destroy.The toil and pain my care shall be:To bless my hope depends on thee.Give me a mighty son to slayFierce Indra, gracious lord, I pray.'
Then glorious Kas'yap thus repliedTo Diti, as she wept and sighed:'Thy prayer is heard, dear saint! RemainPure from all spot, and thou shalt gainA son whose arm shall take the lifeOf Indra in the battle strife.For full a thousand years endureFree from all stain, supremely pure;Then shall thy son and mine appear,Whom the three worlds shall serve with fear.'These words the glorious Kas'yap said,Then gently stroked his consort's head,Blessed her, and bade a kind adieu,And turned him to his rites anew.Soon as her lord had left her side,Her bosom swelled with joy and pride.She sought the shade of holy boughs,And there began her awful vows.While yet she wrought her rites austere,Indra, unbidden, hastened near,With sweet observance tending her,A reverential minister.Wood, water, fire, and grass he brought,Sweet roots and woodland fruit he sought,And all her wants, the Thousand-eyed,With never-failing care, supplied,With tender love and soft caressRemoving pain and weariness.
When, of the thousand years ordained,Ten only unfulfilled remained,Thus to her son, the Thousand-eyed,The Goddess in her triumph cried:'Best of the mighty! there remainBut ten short years of toil and pain;These years of penance soon will flee,And a new brother thou shalt see.Him for thy sake I'll nobly breed,And lust of war his soul shall feed;Then free from care and sorrow thouShalt see the worlds before him bow.' 1
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Footnotes58:1b 'That this story of the birth of Lakshimi is of considerable antiquity is evident from one of her names *Kshirábdhi-tanayá, daughter of the Milky Sea, which is found in Amarasinha the most ancient of Indian lexicographers. The similarity to the Greek myth of Venus being born from the foam of the sea is remarkable.'
'In this description of Lakshmi one thing only offends me, that she is said to have four arms. Each of Vishnu's arms, single, as far as the elbow, there branches into two; but Lakshmi in all the brass seals that I possess or remember to have seen has two arms only. Nor does this deformity of redundant limbs suit the pattern of perfect beauty.' SCHLEGEL. I have omitted the offensive epithet.
58:2b Purandhar, a common title of Indra.
CANTO XLVII.: SUMATÍ.Thus to Lord Indra, Thousand-eyed,Softly beseeching Diti sighed.
When but a blighted bud was left,Which Indra's hand in seven had cleft: 1b'No fault, O Lord of Gods, is thine;The blame herein is only mine.But for one grace I fain would pray,As thou hast reft this hope away.This bud, O Indra, which a blightHas withered ere it saw the light--From this may seven fair spirits riseTo rule the regions of the skies.Be theirs through heaven's unbounded spaceOn shoulders of the winds to race,My children, drest in heavenly forms,Far-famed as Maruts, Gods of storms.One God to Brahmá's sphere assign,Let one, O Indra, watch o'er thine;And ranging through the lower air,The third the name of Vayu 2b bear.Gods let the four remaining be,And roam through space, obeying thee.'
The Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed,Who smote fierce Bali till he died,Joined suppliant hands, and thus replied:'Thy children heavenly forms shall wear;The names devised by thee shall bear,And, Maruts called by my decree,Shall Amrit drink and wait on me.From fear and age and sickness freed.Through the three worlds their wings shall speed.'Thus in the hermits' holy shadeMother and son their compact made,And then, as fame relates, content,Home to the happy skies they went.This is the spot--so men have told--Where Lord Mahendra 3b dwelt of old,This is the blessed region whereHis votaress mother claimed his care.Here gentle Alambúshá bareTo old Ikshváku, king and sage,Vis'álá, glory of his age,By whom, a monarch void of guilt,Was this fair town Vis'álá built.
His son was Hemachandra, stillRenowned for might and warlike skill.From him the great Suchandra came;His son, Dhúmrás'va, dear to fame.Next followed royal Srinjay; thenFamed Sahadeva, lord of men.Next came Kus'ás'va, good and mild,Whose son was Somadatta styled,And Sumati, his heir, the peerOf Gods above, now governs here.And ever through Ikshváku's grace,Vis'álá's kings, his noble race,Are lofty-souled, and blest with lengthOf days, with virtue, and with strength.This night, O prince, we here will sleep;And when the day begins to peep,Our onward way will take with thee,The king of Mithilá to see.'
Then Sumati, the king, awareOf Vis'vámitra's advent thereCame quickly forth with (illegible) meetThe lofty-minded sage to greet.Girt with his priest and lords the kingDid low obeisance, worshipping.With suppliant hands, with head inclined,Thus spoke he after question kind;'Since thou hast deigned to bless my sight, And grace awhile thy servant's seat,High fate is mine, great Anchorite, And none may with my bliss compete.'
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Footnotes59:1 A few verses are here left untranslated on account of the subject and language being offensive to modern taste.
59:1b 'In this myth of Indra destroying the unborn fruit of Diti with his thunderbolt, from which afterwards came the Maruts or Gods of Wind and Storm, geological phenomena are, it seems, represented under mythical images. In the great Mother of the Gods is, perhaps, figured the dry earth: Indra the God of thunder rends it open, and there issue from its rent bosom the Maruts or exhalations of the earth. But such ancient myths are difficult to interpret with absolute certainty.' GORRESIO.
59:2b Wind.
59:3b Indra, with mahá, great, prefixed.
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