Then in thy stead let Bharat reign Lord of his royal sire"s domain, Rich in the fairest gems that shine, Cars, elephants, and steeds, and kine.
The monarch mourns thy altered fate And vails his brow compa.s.sionate: Bowed down by bitter grief he lies And dares not lift to thine his eyes.
Obey his word: be firm and brave, And with great truth the monarch save."
While thus with cruel words she spoke, No grief the n.o.ble youth betrayed; But forth the father"s anguish broke, At his dear Rama"s lot dismayed.
Canto XIX. Rama"s Promise.
Calm and unmoved by threatened woe The n.o.ble conqueror of the foe Answered the cruel words she spoke, Nor quailed beneath the murderous stroke:
"Yea, for my father"s promise sake I to the wood my way will take, And dwell a lonely exile there In hermit dress with matted hair.
One thing alone I fain would learn, Why is the king this day so stern?
Why is the scourge of foes so cold, Nor gives me greeting as of old?
Now let not anger flush thy cheek: Before thy face the truth I speak, In hermit"s coat with matted hair To the wild wood will I repair.
How can I fail his will to do, Friend, master, grateful sovereign too?
One only pang consumes my breast: That his own lips have not expressed His will, nor made his longing known That Bharat should ascend the throne.
To Bharat I would yield my wife, My realm and wealth, mine own dear life, Unasked I fain would yield them all: More gladly at my father"s call, More gladly when the gift may free His honour and bring joy to thee.
Thus, lady, his sad heart release From the sore shame, and give him peace.
But tell me, O, I pray thee, why The lord of men, with downcast eye, Lies prostrate thus, and one by one Down his pale cheek the tear-drops run.
Let couriers to thy father speed On horses of the swiftest breed, And, by the mandate of the king, Thy Bharat to his presence bring.
My father"s words I will not stay To question, but this very day To Da??ak"s pathless wild will fare, For twice seven years an exile there."
When Rama thus had made reply Kaikeyi"s heart with joy beat high.
She, trusting to the pledge she held, The youth"s departure thus impelled: ""Tis well. Be messengers despatched On coursers ne"er for fleetness matched, To seek my father"s home and lead My Bharat back with all their speed.
And, Rama, as I ween that thou Wilt scarce endure to linger now, So surely it were wise and good This hour to journey to the wood.
And if, with shame cast down and weak, No word to thee the king can speak, Forgive, and from thy mind dismiss A trifle in an hour like this.
But till thy feet in rapid haste Have left the city for the waste, And to the distant forest fled, He will not bathe nor call for bread."
"Woe! woe!" from the sad monarch burst, In surging floods of grief immersed; Then swooning, with his wits astray, Upon the gold-wrought couch he lay, And Rama raised the aged king: But the stern queen, unpitying, Checked not her needless words, nor spared The hero for all speed prepared, But urged him with her bitter tongue, Like a good horse with lashes stung, She spoke her shameful speech. Serene He heard the fury of the queen, And to her words so vile and dread Gently, unmoved in mind, he said: "I would not in this world remain A grovelling thrall to paltry gain, But duty"s path would fain pursue, True as the saints themselves are true.
From death itself I would not fly My father"s wish to gratify, What deed soe"er his loving son May do to please him, think it done.
Amid all duties, Queen, I count This duty first and paramount, That sons, obedient, aye fulfil Their honoured fathers" word and will.
Without his word, if thou decree, Forth to the forest will I flee, And there shall fourteen years be spent Mid lonely wilds in banishment.
Methinks thou couldst not hope to find One spark of virtue in my mind, If thou, whose wish is still my lord, Hast for this grace the king implored.
This day I go, but, ere we part, Must cheer my Sita"s tender heart, To my dear mother bid farewell; Then to the woods, a while to dwell.
With thee, O Queen, the care must rest That Bharat hear his sire"s behest, And guard the land with righteous sway, For such the law that lives for aye."
In speechless woe the father heard, Wept with loud cries, but spoke no word.
Then Rama touched his senseless feet, And hers, for honour most unmeet; Round both his circling steps he bent, Then from the bower the hero went.
Soon as he reached the gate he found His dear companions gathered round.
Behind him came Sumitra"s child With weeping eyes so sad and wild.
Then saw he all that rich array Of vases for the glorious day.
Round them with reverent stops he paced, Nor vailed his eye, nor moved in haste.
The loss of empire could not dim The glory that encompa.s.sed him.
So will the Lord of Cooling Rays(286) On whom the world delights to gaze, Through the great love of all retain Sweet splendour in the time of wane.
Now to the exile"s lot resigned He left the rule of earth behind: As though all worldly cares he spurned No trouble was in him discerned.
The chouries that for kings are used, And white umbrella, he refused, Dismissed his chariot and his men, And every friend and citizen.
He ruled his senses, nor betrayed The grief that on his bosom weighed, And thus his mother"s mansion sought To tell the mournful news he brought.
Nor could the gay-clad people there Who flocked round Rama true and fair, One sign of altered fortune trace Upon the splendid hero"s face.
Nor had the chieftain, mighty-armed, Lost the bright look all hearts that charmed, As e"en from autumn moons is thrown A splendour which is all their own.
With his sweet voice the hero spoke Saluting all the gathered folk, Then righteous-souled and great in fame Close to his mother"s house he came.
Lakshma? the brave, his brother"s peer In princely virtues, followed near, Sore troubled, but resolved to show No token of his secret woe.
Thus to the palace Rama went Where all were gay with hope and joy; But well he knew the dire event That hope would mar, that bliss destroy.
So to his grief he would not yield Lest the sad change their hearts might rend, And, the dread tiding unrevealed, Spared from the blow each faithful friend.
Canto XX. Kausalya"s Lament.
But in the monarch"s palace, when Sped from the bower that lord of men, Up from the weeping women went A mighty wail and wild lament: "Ah, he who ever freely did His duty ere his sire could bid, Our refuge and our sure defence, This day will go an exile hence, He on Kausalya loves to wait Most tender and affectionate, And as he treats his mother, thus From childhood has he treated us.
On themes that sting he will not speak, And when reviled is calm and meek.
He soothes the angry, heals offence: He goes to-day an exile hence.
Our lord the king is most unwise, And looks on life with doting eyes, Who in his folly casts away The world"s protection, hope, and stay."
Thus in their woe, like kine bereaved Of their young calves,(287) the ladies grieved, And ever as they wept and wailed With keen reproach the king a.s.sailed.
Their lamentation, mixed with tears, Smote with new grief the monarch"s ears, Who, burnt with woe too great to bear, Fell on his couch and fainted there.
Then Rama, smitten with the pain His heaving heart could scarce restrain, Groaned like an elephant and strode With Lakshma? to the queen"s abode.
A warder there, whose h.o.a.ry eld In honour high by all was held, Guarding the mansion, sat before The portal, girt with many more.
Swift to their feet the warders sprang, And loud the acclamation rang, Hail, Rama! as to him they bent, Of victor chiefs preeminent.
One court he pa.s.sed, and in the next Saw, masters of each Veda text, A crowd of Brahmans, good and sage, Dear to the king for lore and age.
To these he bowed his reverent head, Thence to the court beyond he sped.
Old dames and tender girls, their care To keep the doors, were stationed there.
And all, when Rama came in view, Delighted to the chamber flew, To bear to Queen Kausalya"s ear The tidings that she loved to hear.
The queen, on rites and prayer intent, In careful watch the night had spent, And at the dawn, her son to aid, To Vish?u holy offerings made.
Firm in her vows, serenely glad, In robes of spotless linen clad, As texts prescribe, with grace implored, Her offerings in the fire she poured.
Within her splendid bower he came, And saw her feed the sacred flame.
There oil, and grain, and vases stood, With wreaths, and curds, and cates, and wood, And milk, and sesamum, and rice, The elements of sacrifice.
She, worn and pale with many a fast And midnight hours in vigil past, In robes of purest white arrayed, To Lakshmi Queen drink-offerings paid.
So long away, she flew to meet The darling of her soul: So runs a mare with eager feet To welcome back her foal.
He with his firm support upheld The queen, as near she drew, And, by maternal love impelled, Her arms around him threw.
Her hero son, her matchless boy She kissed upon the head: She blessed him in her pride and joy With tender words, and said: "Be like thy royal sires of old, The n.o.bly good, the lofty-souled!
Their lengthened days and fame be thine, And virtue, as beseems thy line!
The pious king, thy father, see True to his promise made to thee: That truth thy sire this day will show, And regent"s power on thee bestow."
She spoke. He took the proffered seat, And as she pressed her son to eat, Raised reverent bands, and, touched with shame, Made answer to the royal dame: "Dear lady, thou hast yet to know That danger threats, and heavy woe: A grief that will with sore distress On Sita, thee, and Lakshma? press.
What need of seats have such as I?
This day to Da??ak wood I fly.
The hour is come, a time, unmeet For silken couch and gilded seat.
I must to lonely wilds repair, Abstain from flesh, and living there On roots, fruit, honey, hermit"s food, Pa.s.s twice seven years in solitude.
To Bharat"s hand the king will yield The regent power I thought to wield, And me, a hermit, will he send My days in Da??ak wood to spend."
As when the woodman"s axe has lopped A Sal branch in the grove, she dropped: So from the skies a G.o.ddess falls Ejected from her radiant halls.
When Rama saw her lying low, Prostrate by too severe a blow, Around her form his arms he wound And raised her fainting from the ground.
His hand upheld her like a mare Who feels her load too sore to bear, And sinks upon the way o"ertoiled, And all her limbs with dust are soiled.