The Ramayana Part 64

And Lakshma?'s mother too, the dame Sumitra skilled in duty's claim, Who brave Satrughna also bare, Second in age,-her health declare.

And she, in self-conceit most sage, With selfish heart most p.r.o.ne to rage, My mother, fares she well? has she Sent message or command to me?"

Thus Bharat spake, the mighty-souled, And they in brief their tidings told: "All they of whom thou askest dwell, O lion lord, secure and well: Thine all the smiles of fortune are: Make ready; let them yoke the car."

Thus by the royal envoys pressed, Bharat again the band addressed: "I go with you: no long delay, A single hour I bid you stay."

Thus Bharat, son of him who swayed Ayodhyas realm, his answer made, And then bespoke, his heart to please, His mother's sire in words like these: "I go to see my father, King, Urged by the envoys' summoning; And when thy soul desires to see Thy grandson, will return to thee."

The king his grandsire kissed his head, And in reply to Bharat said: "Go forth, dear child: how blest is she, The mother of a son like thee!

Greet well thy sire, thy mother greet, O thou whose arms the foe defeat; The household priest, and all the rest Amid the Twice-born chief and best; And Rama and brave Lakshma?, who Shoot the long shaft with aim so true."

To him the king high honour showed, And store of wealth and gifts bestowed, The choicest elephants to ride, And skins and blankets deftly dyed, A thousand strings of golden beads, And sixteen hundred mettled steeds: And boundless wealth before him piled Gave Kekaya to Kaikeyi's child.

And men of counsel, good and tried, On whose firm truth he aye relied, King Asvapati gave with speed Prince Bharat on his way to lead.

And n.o.ble elephants, strong and young, From sires of Indrasira sprung, And others tall and fair to view Of great Airavat's lineage true: And well yoked a.s.ses fleet of limb The prince his uncle gave to him.

And dogs within the palace bred, Of body vast and ma.s.sive head, With mighty fangs for battle, brave, The tiger's match in strength, he gave.

Yet Bharat's bosom hardly glowed To see the wealth the king bestowed; For he would speed that hour away, Such care upon his bosom lay: Those eager envoys urged him thence, And that sad vision's influence.

He left his court-yard, crowded then With elephants and steeds and men, And, peerless in immortal fame, To the great royal street he came.

He saw, as farther still he went, The inner rooms most excellent, And pa.s.sed the doors, to him unclosed, Where check nor bar his way oppossd.

There Bharat stayed to bid adieu To grandsire and to uncle too, Then, with Satrughna by his side, Mounting his car, away he hied.

The strong-wheeled cars were yoked, and they More than a hundred, rolled away: Servants, with horses, a.s.ses, kine, Followed their lord in endless line.

So, guarded by his own right hand, Forth high-souled Bharat hied, Surrounded by a lordly band On whom the king relied.

Beside him sat Satrughna dear, The scourge of trembling foes: Thus from the light of Indra's sphere A saint made perfect goes.

Canto LXXI. Bharat's Return.

Then Bharat's face was eastward bent As from the royal town he went.

He reached Sudama's farther side, And glorious, gazed upon the tide; Pa.s.sed Hladini, and saw her toss Her westering billows hard to cross.

Then old Ikshvaku's famous son O'er Satadru(348) his pa.s.sage won, Near Ailadhana on the strand, And came to Aparparyat's land.

O'er Sila's flood he hurried fast, Akurvati's fair stream he pa.s.sed, Crossed o'er agneya's rapid rill, And Salyakartan onward still.

Silavaha's swift stream he eyed, True to his vows and purified, Then crossed the lofty hills, and stood In Chaitraratha's mighty wood.

He reached the confluence where meet Sarasvati(349) and Ganga fleet, And through Bharu??a forest, spread Northward of Viramatsya, sped.

He sought Kalinda's child, who fills The soul with joy, begirt by hills, Reached Yamuna, and pa.s.sing o'er, Rested his army on the sh.o.r.e: He gave his horses food and rest, Bathed reeking limb and drooping crest.

They drank their fill and bathed them there, And water for their journey bare.

Thence through a mighty wood he sped All wild and uninhabited, As in fair chariot through the skies, Most fair in shape a Storm-G.o.d flies.

At Ansudhana Ganga, hard To cross, his onward journey barred, So turning quickly thence he came To Pragva?'s city dear to fame.

There having gained the farther side To Ku?ikosh?ika he hied: The stream he crossed, and onward then To Dharmavardhan brought his men.

Thence, leaving Tora? on the north, To Jambuprastha journeyed forth.

Then onward to a pleasant grove By fair Varutha's town he drove, And when a while he there had stayed, Went eastward from the friendly shade.

Eastward of Ujjihana where The Priyak trees are tall and fair, He pa.s.sed, and rested there each steed Exhausted with the journey's speed.

There orders to his men addressed, With quickened pace he onward pressed, A while at Sarvatirtha spent, Then o'er Uttanika he went.

O'er many a stream beside he sped With coursers on the mountains bred, And pa.s.sing Hastiprish?hak, took The road o'er Ku?ika's fair brook.

Then, at Lohitya's village, he Crossed o'er the swift Kapivati, Then pa.s.sed, where Ekasala stands, The Stha?umati's flood and sands, And Gomati of fair renown By Vinata's delightful town.

When to Kalinga near he drew, A wood of Sal trees charmed the view; That pa.s.sed, the sun began to rise, And Bharat saw with happy eyes, Ayodhya's city, built and planned By ancient Manu's royal hand.

Seven nights upon the road had pa.s.sed, And when he saw the town at last Before him in her beauty spread, Thus Bharat to the driver said: "This glorious city from afar, Wherein pure groves and gardens are, Seems to my eager eyes to-day A lifeless pile of yellow clay.

Through all her streets where erst a throng Of men and women streamed along, Uprose the mult.i.tudinous roar: To-day I hear that sound no more.

No longer do mine eyes behold The leading people, as of old, On elephants, cars, horses, go Abroad and homeward, to and fro.

The brilliant gardens, where we heard The wild note of each rapturous bird, Where men and women loved to meet, In pleasant shades, for pastime sweet,- These to my eyes this day appear Joyless, and desolate, and drear: Each tree that graced the garden grieves, And every path is spread with leaves.

The merry cry of bird and beast, That spake aloud their joy, has ceased: Still is the long melodious note That charmed us from each warbling throat.

Why blows the blessed air no more, The incense-breathing air that bore Its sweet incomparable scent Of sandal and of aloe blent?

Why are the drum and tabour mute?

Why is the music of the lute That woke responsive to the quill, Loved by the happy, hushed and still?

My boding spirit gathers hence Dire sins of awful consequence, And omens, crowding on my sight, Weigh down my soul with wild affright.

Scarce shall I find my friends who dwell Here in Ayodhya safe and well: For surely not without a cause This crus.h.i.+ng dread my soul o'erawes."

Heart sick, dejected, every sense Confused by terror's influence, On to the town he quickly swept Which King Ikshvaku's children kept.

He pa.s.sed through Vaijayanta's gate, With weary steeds, disconsolate, And all who near their station held, His escort, crying Victory, swelled, With heart distracted still he bowed Farewell to all the following crowd, Turned to the driver and began To question thus the weary man: "Why was I brought, O free from blame, So fast, unknown for what I came?

Yet fear of ill my heart appals, And all my wonted courage falls.

For I have heard in days gone by The changes seen when monarchs die; And all those signs, O charioteer, I see to-day surround me here: Each kinsman's house looks dark and grim, No hand delights to keep it trim: The beauty vanished, and the pride, The doors, unkept, stand open wide.

No morning rites are offered there, No grateful incense loads the air, And all therein, with brows o'ercast, Sit joyless on the ground and fast.

Their lovely chaplets dry and dead, Their courts unswept, with dust o'erspread, The temples of the G.o.ds to-day No more look beautiful and gay.

Neglected stands each holy shrine, Each image of a Lord divine.

No shop where flowery wreaths are sold Is bright and busy as of old.

The women and the men I mark Absorbed in fancies dull and dark, Their gloomy eyes with tears bedewed, A poor afflicted mult.i.tude."

His mind oppressed with woe and dread, Thus Bharat to his driver said, Viewed the dire signs Ayodhya showed, And onward to the palace rode.

Canto LXXII. Bharat's Inquiry.

He entered in, he looked around, Nor in the house his father found; Then to his mother's dwelling, bent To see her face, he quickly went.

She saw her son, so long away, Returning after many a day, And from her golden seat in joy Sprung forward to her darling boy.

Within the bower, no longer bright, Came Bharat lover of the right, And bending with observance sweet Clasped his dear mother's lovely feet.

Long kisses on his brow she pressed, And held her hero to her breast, Then fondly drew him to her knees, And questioned him in words like these: "How many nights have fled, since thou Leftest thy grandsire's home, till now?

By flying steeds so swiftly borne, Art thou not weak and travel-worn?

How fares the king my father, tell: Is Yudhajit thine uncle well?

And now, my son, at length declare The pleasure of the visit there."

Thus to the offspring of the king She spake with tender questioning, And to his mother made reply Young Bharat of the lotus eye: "The seventh night has come and fled Since from my grandsire's home I sped: My mother's sire is well, and he, Yudhajit, from all trouble free.

The gold and every precious thing Presented by the conqueror king, The slower guards behind convey: I left them weary on the way.

Urged by the men my father sent, My hasty course I hither bent: Now, I implore, an answer deign, And all I wish to know, explain.

Unoccupied I now behold This couch of thine adorned with gold, And each of King Ikshvaku's race Appears with dark and gloomy face.

The king is aye, my mother dear, Most constant in his visits here.

To meet my sire I sought this spot: How is it that I find him not?

I long to clasp my father's feet: Say where he lingers, I entreat.

Perchance the monarch may be seen Where dwells Kausalya, eldest queen."

His father's fate, from him concealed, Kaikeyi to her son revealed: Told as glad news the story sad, For l.u.s.t of sway had made her mad: "Thy father, O my darling, know, Has gone the way all life must go: Devout and famed, of lofty thought, In whom the good their refuge sought."

When Bharat pious, pure, and true, Heard the sad words which pierced him through, Grieved for the sire he loved so well Prostrate upon the ground he fell: Down fell the strong-armed hero, high Tossing his arms, and a sad cry, "Ah, woe is me, unhappy, slain!"

Burst from his lips again, again, Afflicted for his father's fate By grief's intolerable weight, With every sense amazed and cowed The splendid hero wailed aloud: "Ah me, my royal father's bed Of old a gentle radiance shed, Like the pure sky when clouds are past, And the moon's light is o'er it cast: Ah, of its wisest lord bereft, It shows to-day faint radiance left, As when the moon has left the sky.

Or mighty Ocean's depths are dry."

With choking sobs, with many a tear, Pierced to the heart with grief sincere, The best of conquerors poured his sighs, And with his robe veiled face and eyes.