A pledge in his successive hand.

  This bow the mighty Rudra bore

  At Daksha’s245 sacrifice of yore,

  When carnage of the Immortals stained

  The rite that Daksha had ordained.

  Then as the Gods sore wounded fled,

  Victorious Rudra, mocking, said:

  “Because, O Gods, ye gave me naught

  When I my rightful portion sought,

  Your dearest parts I will not spare,

  But with my bow your frames will tear.”

  The Sons of Heaven, in wild alarm,

  Soft flatteries tried his rage to charm.

  Then Bhava, Lord whom Gods adore,

  Grew kind and friendly as before,

  And every torn and mangled limb

  Was safe and sound restored by him.

  Thenceforth this bow, the gem of bows,

  That freed the God of Gods from foes,

  Stored by our great forefathers lay

  A treasure and a pride for aye.

  Once, as it chanced, I ploughed the ground,

  When sudden, ‘neath the share was found

  An infant springing from the earth,

  Named Sítá from her secret birth.246

  In strength and grace the maiden grew,

  My cherished daughter, fair to view.

  I vowed her, of no mortal birth,

  Meet prize for noblest hero’s worth.

  In strength and grace the maiden grew,

  And many a monarch came to woo.

  To all the princely suitors I

  Gave, mighty Saint, the same reply:

  “I give not thus my daughter, she

  Prize of heroic worth shall be.247

  To Míthilá the suitors pressed

  Their power and might to manifest.

  To all who came with hearts aglow

  I offered Śiva’s wondrous bow.

  Not one of all the royal band

  Could raise or take the bow in hand.

  The suitors’ puny might I spurned,

  And back the feeble princes turned.

  Enraged thereat, the warriors met,

  With force combined my town beset.

  Stung to the heart with scorn and shame,

  With war and threats they madly came,

  Besieged my peaceful walls, and long

  To Míthilá did grievous wrong.

  There, wasting all, a year they lay,

  And brought my treasures to decay,

  Filling my soul, O Hermit chief,

  With bitter woe and hopeless grief.

  At last by long-wrought penance I

  Won favour with the Gods on high,

  Who with my labours well content

  A four-fold host to aid me sent.

  Then swift the baffled heroes fled

  To all the winds discomfited —

  Wrong-doers, with their lords and host,

  And all their valour’s idle boast.

  This heavenly bow, exceeding bright,

  These youths shall see, O Anchorite.

  Then if young Ráma’s hand can string

  The bow that baffled lord and king,

  To him I give, as I have sworn,

  My Sítá, not of woman born.”

  Canto LXVII. The Breaking Of The Bow.

  THEN SPOKE AGAIN the great recluse:

  “This mighty bow, O King, produce.”

  King Janak, at the saint’s request,

  This order to his train addressed:

  “Let the great bow be hither borne,

  Which flowery wreaths and scents adorn.”

  Soon as the monarch’s words were said,

  His servants to the city sped,

  Five thousand youths in number, all

  Of manly strength and stature tall,

  The ponderous eight-wheeled chest that held

  The heavenly bow, with toil propelled.

  At length they brought that iron chest,

  And thus the godlike king addressed:

  “This best of bows, O lord, we bring,

  Respected by each chief and king,

  And place it for these youths to see,

  If, Sovereign, such thy pleasure be.”

  With suppliant palm to palm applied

  King Janak to the strangers cried:

  “This gem of bows, O Bráhman Sage,

  Our race has prized from age to age,

  Too strong for those who yet have reigned,

  Though great in might each nerve they strained.

  Titan and fiend its strength defies,

  God, spirit, minstrel of the skies.

  And bard above and snake below

  Are baffled by this glorious bow.

  Then how may human prowess hope

  With such a bow as this to cope?

  What man with valour’s choicest gift

  This bow can draw, or string, or lift?

  Yet let the princes, holy Seer,

  Behold it: it is present here.”

  Then spoke the hermit pious-souled:

  “Ráma, dear son, the bow behold.”

  Then Ráma at his word unclosed

  The chest wherein its might reposed,

  Thus crying, as he viewed it: “Lo!

  I lay mine hand upon the bow:

  May happy luck my hope attend

  Its heavenly strength to lift or bend.”

  “Good luck be thine,” the hermit cried:

  “Assay the task!” the king replied.

  Then Raghu’s son, as if in sport,

  Before the thousands of the court,

  The weapon by the middle raised

  That all the crowd in wonder gazed.

  With steady arm the string he drew

  Till burst the mighty bow in two.

  As snapped the bow, an awful clang,

  Loud as the shriek of tempests, rang.

  The earth, affrighted, shook amain

  As when a hill is rent in twain.

  Then, senseless at the fearful sound,

  The people fell upon the ground:

  None save the king, the princely pair,

  And the great saint, the shock could bear.

  When woke to sense the stricken train,

  And Janak’s soul was calm again,

  With suppliant hands and reverent head,

  These words, most eloquent, he said:

  “O Saint, Prince Ráma stands alone:

  His peerless might he well has shown.

  A marvel has the hero wrought

  Beyond belief, surpassing thought.

  My child, to royal Ráma wed,

  New glory on our line will shed:

  And true my promise will remain

  That hero’s worth the bride should gain.

  Dearer to me than light and life,

  My Sítá shall be Ráma’s wife.

  If thou, O Bráhman, leave concede,

  My counsellors, with eager speed,

  Borne in their flying cars, to fair

  Ayodhyá’s town the news shall bear,

  With courteous message to entreat

  The king to grace my royal seat.

  This to the monarch shall they tell,

  The bride is his who won her well:

  And his two sons are resting here

  Protected by the holy seer.

  So, at his pleasure, let them lead

  The sovereign to my town with speed.”

  The hermit to his prayer inclined

  And Janak, lord of virtuous mind,

  With charges, to Ayodhyá sent

  His ministers: and forth they went.

  Canto LXVIII. The Envoys’ Speech.

  THREE NIGHTS UPON the road they passed

  To rest the steeds that bore them fast,

  And reached Ayodhyá’s town at last.

  Then straight at Daśaratha’s call

  They stood within the royal hall,

  Where, like a God, inspiring awe,

  The venerable king they saw.

  With suppliant palm to palm applied,

  And all their terror laid aside,

  They spoke to him upon the throne

  With modest words, in gentle tone:

  “Janak, Videha’s king, O Sire,

  Has sent us hither to inquire

  The health of thee his friend most dear,

  Of all thy priests and every peer.

  Next Kuśik’s son consenting, thus

  King Janak speaks, dread liege, by us:

  “I made a promise and decree

  That valour’s prize my child should be.

  Kings, worthless found in worth’s assay,

  With mien dejected turned away.

  Thy sons, by Viśvámitra led,

  Unurged, my city visited,

  And peerless in their might have gained

  My daughter, as my vow ordained.

  Full in a vast assembly’s view

  Thy hero Ráma broke in two

  The gem of bows, of monstrous size,

  That came a treasure from the skies.

  Ordained the prize of hero’s might,

  Sítá my child is his by right.

  Fain would I keep my promise made,

  If thou, O King, approve and aid.

  Come to my town thy son to see:

  Bring holy guide and priest with thee.

  O lord of kings, my suit allow,

  And let me keep my promised vow.

  So joying for thy children’s sake

  Their triumph too shalt thou partake,

  With Viśvámitra’s high consent.”

  Such words with friendship eloquent

  Spoke Janak, fair Videha’s king,

  By Śatánanda’s counselling.”

  The envoys thus the king addressed,

  And mighty joy his heart possessed.

  To Vámadeva quick he cried,

  Vaśishṭha, and his lords beside:

  “Lakshmaṇ, and he, my princely boy

  Who fills Kauśalyá’s soul with joy,

  By Viśvámitra guarded well

  Among the good Videhans dwell.

  Their ruler Janak, prompt to own

  The peerless might my child has shown,

  To him would knit in holy ties

  His daughter, valour’s lovely prize.

  If Janak’s plan seem good to you,

  Come, speed we to his city too,

  Nor let occasion idly by.”

  He ceased. There came a glad reply

  From priest and mighty saint and all

  The councillors who thronged the hall.

  Then cried the king with joyous heart:

  “To-morrow let us all depart.”

  That night the envoys entertained

  With honour and all care remained.

  Canto LXIX. Dasaratha’s Visit.

  SOON AS THE shades of night had fled,

  Thus to the wise Sumantra said

  The happy king, while priest and peer,

  Each in his place, were standing near:

  “Let all my treasurers to-day,

  Set foremost in the long array,

  With gold and precious gems supplied

  In bounteous store, together ride.

  And send you out a mighty force,

  Foot, chariot, elephant, and horse.

  Besides, let many a car of state,

  And noblest steeds, my will await.

  Vaśishṭha, Vámadeva sage,

  And Márkaṇdeya’s reverend age,

  Jáváli, Kaśyap’s godlike seed,

  And wise Kátyáyana, shall lead.

  Thy care, Sumantra, let it be

  To yoke a chariot now for me,

  That so we part without delay:

  These envoys hasten me away.”

  So fared he forth. That host, with speed,

  Quadruple, as the king decreed,

  With priests to head the bright array,

  Followed the monarch on his way.

  Four days they travelled on the road,

  And eve Videha’s kingdom showed.

  Janak had left his royal seat

  The venerable king to greet,

  And, noblest, with these words addressed

  That noblest lord, his happy guest:

  “Hail, best of kings: a blessed fate

  Has led thee, Monarch, to my state.

  Thy sons, supreme in high emprise,

  Will gladden now their father’s eyes.

  And high my fate, that hither leads

  Vaśishṭha, bright with holy deeds,

  Girt with these sages far-renowned,

  Like Indra with the Gods around.

  Joy! joy! for vanquished are my foes:

  Joy! for my house in glory grows,

  With Raghu’s noblest sons allied,

  Supreme in strength and valour’s pride.

  To-morrow with its early light

  Will shine on my completed rite.

  Then, sanctioned by the saints and thee,

  The marriage of thy Ráma see.”

  Then Daśaratha, best of those

  Whose speech in graceful order flows,

  With gathered saints on every side,

  Thus to the lord of earth replied:

  “A truth is this I long have known,

  A favour is the giver’s own.

  What thou shalt bid, O good and true,

  We, as our power permits, will do.”

  That answer of the truthful lord,

  With virtuous worth and honour stored,

  Janak, Videha’s noble king,

  Heard gladly, greatly marvelling.

  With bosoms filled with pleasure met

  Long-parted saint and anchoret,

  And linked in friendship’s tie they spent

  The peaceful night in great content.

  Ráma and Lakshmaṇ thither sped,

  By sainted Viśvámitra led,

  And bent in filial love to greet

  Their father, and embraced his feet.

  The aged king, rejoiced to hear

  And see again his children dear,

  Honoured by Janak’s thoughtful care,

  With great enjoyment rested there.

  King Janak, with attentive heed,

  Consulted first his daughters’ need,

  And ordered all to speed the rite;

  Then rested also for the night.

  Canto LXX. The Maidens Sought.

  THEN WITH THE morn’s returning sun.

  King Janak, when his rites were done,

  Skilled all the charms of speech to know,

  Spoke to wise Śatánanda so:

  “My brother, lord of glorious fame,

  My younger, Kuśadhwaj by name,

  Whose virtuous life has won renown,

  Has settled in a lovely town,

  Sánkáśyá, decked with grace divine,

  Whose glories bright as Pushpak’s shine,

  While Ikshumatí rolls her wave

  Her lofty rampart’s foot to lave.

  Him, holy priest, I long to see:

  The guardian of my rite is he:

  That my dear brother may not miss

  A share of mine expected bliss.”

  Thus in the presence of the priest

  The royal Janak spoke, and ceased.

  Then came his henchmen, prompt and brave,

  To whom his charge the monarch gave.

  Soon as they heard his will, in haste

  With fleetest steeds away they raced,

  To lead with them that lord of kings,

  As Indra’s call Lord Vishṇu brings.

  Sánkáśyá’s walls they duly gained,

  And audience of the king obtained.

  To him they told the news they brought

  Of marvels past and Janak’s thought.

  Soon as the king the story knew

  From those good envoys swift and true,

  To Janak’s wish he gave assent,

  And swift to Míthilá he went.

  He paid to Janak reverence due,

  And holy Śatánanda too,

  Then sate him on a glorious seat

  For kings or Gods celestial meet.

  Soon as the brothers, noble pair

  Peerless in might, were seated there,

  They gave the wise Sudáman, best

  Of councillors, their high behest:

  “Go, noble councillor,” they cried,

  “And hither to our presence guide

  Ikshváku’s son, Ayodhyá’s lord,

  Invincible by foeman’s sword,

  With both his sons, each holy seer,

  And every minister and peer.”

  Sudáman to the palace flew,

  And saw the mighty king who threw

  Splendour on Raghu’s splendid race,

  Then bowed his head with seemly grace:

  “O King, whose hand Ayodhyá sways,

  My lord, whom Míthilá obeys,

  Yearns with desire, if thou agree,

  Thee with thy guide and priest to see.”

  Soon as the councillor had ceased,

  The king, with saint and peer and priest,

  Sought, speeding through the palace gate,

  The hall where Janak held his state.

  There, with his nobles round him spread,

  Thus to Videha’s lord be said:

  “Thou knowest, King, whose aid divine

  Protects Ikshváku’s royal line.

  In every need, whate’er befall,

  The saint Vaśishṭha speaks for all.

  If Viśvámitra so allow,

  And all the saints around me now,

  The sage will speak, at my desire,

  As order and the truth require.”

  Soon as the king his lips had stilled,

  Up rose Vaśishṭha, speaker skilled.

  And to Videha’s lord began

  In flowing words that holy man:

  “From viewless Nature Brahmá rose,

  No change, no end, no waste he knows.

  A son had he Maríchi styled,

  And Kaśyap was Maríchi’s child.

  From him Vivasvat sprang: from him

  Manu whose fame shall ne’er be dim.

  Manu, who life to mortals gave,

  Begot Ikshváku good and brave.

  First of Ayodhyá’s kings was he,

  Pride of her famous dynasty.

  From him the glorious Kukshi sprang,

  Whose fame through all the regions rang.

  Rival of Kukshi’s ancient fame,

  His heir, the great Vikukshi, came,

  His son was Váṇa, lord of might;

  His Anaraṇya, strong to fight.

  His son was Prithu, glorious name;

  From him the good Triśanku came.

  He left a son renowned afar,

  Known by the name of Dhundhumár.

 

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