The Sanskrit Epics, page 960
Of power bereft, on seas of troubles tossed,
Arise, O king! thy mighty foemen quell,
As wakes the sun, night’s darkness to dispel!” (46)
BOOK II. YUDHISHTHIRA’S REPLY.
LISTENING to her speech so noble,
Speech with force and sweetness graced,
Bhîraa thus with words of wisdom
Virtuous Yudhishthir addressed, (1)
“Pleading with her eyes so gentle,
Drupad’s noble daughter speaks
Words unmatched by god of wisdom,
And my soul in wonder wakes!
Easy steps can lead to knowledge,
As the Ghat leads to the stream;
Few are those in graceful accents
Who those easy steps can frame!
Like some potent drug her utterance
Force and mighty vigour blends;
Though displeasing to the weakly,
Still it serveth mighty ends!
May her words of noble import
Please thee, great and virtuous lord!
Wise men cull each word of wisdom,
Do not reck who speaks that word.
Trained in all the fourfold science
Is thy lofty mind, great sire!
Wherefore then it sinks in error
Like a tusker in the mire? (6)
“Fallen to this state deploréd,
Mighty sovereign! can it be?
And thy power, by gods admired,
Can it, monarch! sink with thee?
We may brook a foeman’s prowess
While his ruin we devise;
But a foeman’s fall is painful
If it leads to future rise!
Striving still their foes to conquer,
And to seize the victor’s prize,
Men of deeds and mighty valour
Fate’s reverses still despise!
Who in danger and misfortune
From great deeds of daring turn;
Fortune shuns such nerveless monarchs,
Moved by hatred, moved by scorn!
Who in danger and misfortune
With their daring onward press,
Fortune helps them in the struggle,
Men their mighty valour bless!
Righteous laws and rules of duty,
They can lead to wealth and state;
But they wait on earnest effort,
As we still depend on fate.
Men of deeds and men of honour,
Bent on lofty aims with pride,
Still rely on man-like effort,
Death and danger turn aside!
Men of feeble hearts surrender
To the ills which fortune brings;
Lost their glory, lost their future!
Lost their pride and state of kings! (14)
“Then spurn this apathy and weakness,
To our fame a fatal bar;
On our effort, not vain sorrow,
Ever waits fair fortune’s star!
Waitest thou for term of treaty?
Will the wicked wily foe,
Feasting long on royal splendour,
Peacefully their state forego?
Waitest thou to get from foemen
As a gift thy kingdom then?
Woe unto our might and prowess,
Shame on us, O king of men!
Proud, the monarch of the forest
Feeds on tuskers by him slayed!
Mighty chiefs who quell this wide earth
Seek not gifts and foemen’s aid!
They surrender life that fleeteth
For undying glory great;
Fortune, fickle as the lightning,
Will unchanging on them wait!
Men will spurn a heap of ashes,
Not the bright and flaming fire!
Hence the proud their life surrender,
Not their glory, not their ire!
Wherefore roars the forest-monarch,
Till his roar the clouds repeat?
His proud soul will brook no rival,
Mighty hearts know no defeat!
Set thy heart on glory, brother!
Spurn this slothful life of shame,
Sure, from our inglorious weakness
Springs our foeman’s mighty fame!
Let thy brothers, strong as tuskers,
In the dubious battle throng,
Who will face their mighty valour,
Who will face their prowess strong?
And the fire the foes have lighted,
Making drear thy righteous life,
Let the tears of foemen’s widows
Quench that great, that vengeful grief!” (24)
Bhîma, like a noble tusker,
Spoke in wrath and mighty ire;
But the righteous Yudhishthira
Strove to quench the flaming fire. (25)
“Wise thy reasons, noble brother,
Blameless, mighty as thy might!
In thy words thy mind reflected
Shines as on a mirror bright!
Strong thy sense, unveiled by jargon,
Import deep yet manifest!
And thy purpose put forth nobly,
And by native vigour graced!
Reasons urged with force inviolate,
Depth of lore unsoiled by art!
Who can speak so well and nobly
But a chief of noble heart?
But insatiate yet my bosom
Seeks for reason’s holy light;
And thy wealth of precepts, brother,
Fails to teach me what is right! (29)
“Thoughtless action leads to evil,
And our dangers we create;
Fortune ever waits on wisdom,
On the wise her favours wait!
Sprinkle Wisdom’s drops that nourish
On our Duty’s fruitful seed,
And as autumn brings its harvests,
Duty will to glory lead!
Sacred lore bedecks a mortal,
Righteous peace befits our lore;
Prowess dwells in righteous conduct,
Leads to glory evermore!
On the wise man’s path of duty,
When doubt’s gloomy shadows lower,
Sacred lore then sheds a radiance
Like a lamp of wondrous power!
Dost thou cherish lofty purpose?
Righteously let it be done!
Dangers then will bring no sorrow,
Failure will be glory won!
Dost thou sigh for mighty conquests?
Angry passions lay aside!
Blamelessly thy ends pursue,
And by blameless means abide!
Dost thou seek to rise in glory?
Quell by wisdom passion’s gloom;
As the sun quells impure darkness
Ere he rises in his bloom!
Till thou quellest impure passions,
Vain thy prowess, vain thy might,
Where is bright moons silver glory
In the dark and moonless night?
Act with pride and strength when needed,
Or thy gentleness display;
Lord of passions, rule the wide earth,
Like the glorious orb of day!
But if thou be’st passions’ minion,
Fame nor glory wilt thou find,
Fortune, fleeting as the white clouds,
Favours not the inconstant mind. (39)
“Wherefore, brother, doth thy great heart
This untimely wrath display?
Deep as the ocean is the bosom,
Strong and firm be reason’s sway!
Men who, versed in noble learning,
Fail their passions to repress,
They, my brother, to Dame Fortune,
Give a name for fickleness!
Times nor means are ready, brother,
Let not thy untimely wrath
Still inflame thee, like the vulgar,
Nor mislead from duty’s path!
Patience brightens up our future,
Crowns our efforts with success,
Moves obstruction from our path,
Leads us unto happiness! (43)
“The mighty chiefs of Yadu’s race,
Who yield the foremost place to none,
Will not in their love forsake us,
Will not bow to Suyodhan.
Other friends and loving kinsmen
Follow as the Yadus lead;
Not for love they serve Suyodhan,
But to serve their present need.
If against our plighted treaty
Now we fall upon the foe,
All the chiefs will round him gather,
Like the flowers at morning’s glow.
Grant them time, and all the chieftains
Will the proud Suyodhan leave,
Chiefs will never brook those insults,
Which his subjects often grieve,
For the pride of haughty monarchs,
Scarcely trained in virtue’s path,
Ill concealed by sense of duty,
Oft breaks out in native wrath!
And the king with pride inflated
Ever stoops to sin and folly;
Shuns the righteous path of wisdom
As we shun the path unholy. (49)
“A people’s discontent will shake
A mighty monarch’s power and throne,
Till like a tree by tempest moved,
With ease his rule is overthrown.
For people’s discontent, though small,
Doth wreck a mighty monarch’s rule,
As far-extending woods are burnt
By sparks which from a dead branch spring.
Therefore, brother, we endure
A haughty foeman’s sudden rise;
His haughtiness will sap his prowess,
And his fall is like his rise!
By pride estranged, he soon is left
By mighty chiefs and men of rank;
Then comes the foe and overwhelms him
As the waves the loosened bank!” (53)
Thus spake the king unto his brother,
Wise and peaceful counsel lent;
When lo! approached, like peace incarnate,
Holy Vyâsa, mighty saint!
His gentle look imparting love
To every being animate;
His gentle visage softly beaming
With a sin-destroying might!
Destroyer of all mortal sins,
The source of every holy rite,
The saint appeared, serene and calm,
Like virtue in its native might!
Attired in wild and ruddy barks,
The king respectful stood, and shone,
As on Sumeru’s lofty peaks
Doth shine the ruddy rising sun!
And when was done obeisance meet,
The king resumed his wonted place,
And shone as shines our sacred learning,
Graced by righteous holy peace! (58)
His beauteous lips bedecked with beaming smile,
The monarch sat before the saint awhile,
And shone in splendour, like the full moon bright,
With Brihaspati in conjunction sweet! (59)
BOOK III. VVSA’S INSTRUCTIONS.
BEAMING with a gentle lustre
Soft as rays of autumn night,
Graced with auburn locks that clustered
Like a cloud with lightning bright!
Bearing grace in all its fulness
On his more than mortal form,
Filling every living creature
With affection pure and warm!
Speaking by his gentle features
Peaceful thoughts that filled his heart,
By his soft and trustful glances
Seeking confidence t’ impart!
Mighty source of all the Vedas,
Source from whom all virtues flow,
Him the King Yudhishthir questioned,
Curious his great end to know. (4)
“Unattained by mighty virtue,
Saint! thy visit is to me
Like a holy life’s fruition,
Like the rain from cloudless sky!
Rites performed bear fruit to-day,
Brahmans’ blessings bring forth weal,
Mighty Saint! since by thy visit
Honoured in this world I feel!
By its grace it conquers evils,
By its glory spreads our fame,
From thy kindness as from Brahma’s,
Untold bliss and blessings come!
Not the moon with gentle radiance
Cheers my sad and weary eye,
Now my heart forgets its sadness,
Beats with joy, for thou art nigh!
Thy desire I may not question,
Peaceful souls have no desires!
But a wish to hear thy utterance
With a boldness me inspires!” (9)
In graceful words thus spoke the monarch;
Vyâsa, by his kindness led,
Anxious for the monarch’s glory,
Thus unto Yudhishthir said: (10)
“He who strives for fame and glory
Bears for all an equal love,
He who strives for peace and virtue
Should with love impartial move.
Yet my partial heart, O monarch,
Is by virtues drawn to thee;
Virtues have a power attractive
Even on holy saints and high.
Are ye not of race imperial,
Worthier far than Suyodhan?
Has the old king lost his reason
Thus to wrench from you your own?
And will fortune help a monarch
Who on Kama places trust?
Friendship with unrighteous mortals
Is but fame and honour lost!
When your foes left paths of virtue,
You in virtue took your rest;
And midst changes, still unchanging,
Shewed forgiveness, ever blest!
Vainly did they seek to shame thee,
Man of ever changeless love!
’Tis thy wealth of worth and virtue
In true light their actions prove!
But mark my words! by valour only
You can win in battle’s hour;
And in might is strong the foeman,
Therefore seek increase in power. (17)
“Jamadagni’s son, who conquered
Thrice seven times the kings of earth,
Great though he, the chieftain trembles
At great Bhîshma’s mightier worth!
Death is powerless, death is conquered
By that chief’s resistless power;
Trembles earth when mighty Bhîshma
Wields his bow in battle’s hour!
Doughty Drona! in the battle,
Speeding arrows in his ire,
Like a world-consuming furnace
With its quivering tongues of fire!
Fiery Kama f learnt his lessons
From great Jamadagni’s son.
Death himself, in Kama’s presence
Owns a terror, strange, unknown!
These are chiefs, believe me, monarch,
Whom in battle thou shalt face!
Hence let Arjun with due penance
Seek celestial arms and grace.
Let him seek that gift of prowess
Gods themselves by penance crave,
This, O monarch, is my mission,
Win the gift that speeds the brave.” (23)
Then the great and mighty Arjun
Stept forth reverent and slow,
Bowing to Yudhishthir’s mandate,
Like a student meek and low.
And the gift, the fiery mantra,
Issuing from the holy saint,
As the sunlight falls on lotus,
So unto great Arjun went!
And the mantra’s sacred radiance,
Which the hero proudly wore,
Quickly oped his eye of reason,
Taught him secrets of deep lore!
And his form betokened glory,
And his heart was fixed and strong,
Urging penance pure and holy,
Vyâsa spoke to Arjun young. (27)
“Strengthened by this mantra, Arjun!
Yielding thy own place to none,
Girt in arms perform thy penance,
Unto fasts, ablutions prone.
Let this Yaksha lead thee, youth!
To the lofty golden hill,
There you do your sacred penance,
Please great Indra, do his will.” (29)
Thus speaking to the mighty chief
The saint evanished from his view,
Obedient to his sacred word
Appeared the Yaksha, faithful, true.
The Yaksha bowed and felt a love
For Arjun, gentle in his speech;
The pure are quick in confidence,
And friendship is not far to reach. (31)
As darkness fills Sumeru’s bowers
When slow the god of day departs,
The partie g from the mighty Arjun
Filled with grief his brothers’ hearts.
Dispelled awhile by sense of duty,
Albeit so strong was brothers’ love,
The sorrow of the parting brothers,
Though keen, did not oppressive prove.
And hope and trust in Arjun’s might,
And bitter hatred of the foe,
And confidence in Arjun’s power
Dispelled the brothers’ common woe.
As darkness leaves the hours of day
And seeks the stillness of the night,
Thus sorrow left the mighty chiefs,
And fell on Krishnâ in its might.
As flakes of snow the lotus fills
Spontaneous tear-drops filled her eye,
Nor could she weep, for tear-drops shed
Might be an inauspicious sign!
One look she gave, ’twas dear to soul,
And Arjun caught the parting grace,
His treasure and memento dear
Through pathless woods and weary days.
By grief her tender heart was wrung,
Like summer rills by tuskers soiled;
Her voice was choked with tears restrained,
She spoke in accents sweet and wild. (38)
“Restorer of our ancient fame,
Now trailed in mire by foemen’s art,
Until thy mighty penance ends,
Our absence should not pain thy heart.
In fame’s pursuit, in pleasure’s quest,
In deeds which glorious records fill,
Unfailing Fortune leans to him
Who labours with a mighty will!
To rule the world was Kshatriya made,
His wealth is conquering power in strife!
Disgrace, alas! has quenched that power,
To true-born warriors dear as life!
Disgrace, which kings in distant lands
