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The Rámáyan of Válmíki, translated into English verse

Canto LXXIII. The Nuptials.

On that same day that saw the king

His gift of kine distributing,

The lord of Kekaya's son, by name

Yudhájit, Bharat's uncle, came,

Asked of the monarch's health, and then

Addressed the reverend king of men:

“The lord of Kekaya's realm by me

Sends greeting, noble King, to thee:

Asks if the friends thy prayers would bless

Uninterrupted health possess.

Right anxious, mighty King, is he

My sister's princely boy to see.

For this I sought Ayodhyá fair

The message of my sire to bear.

There learning, O my liege, that thou

With sons and noble kinsmen now

Wast resting here, I sought the place

Longing to see my nephew's face.”

The king with kind observance cheered

His friend by tender ties endeared,

And every choicest honour pressed

Upon his honourable guest.

That night with all his children spent,

At morn King Daśaratha went,

Behind Vaśishṭha and the rest,

To the fair ground for rites addressed.

Then when the lucky hour was nigh

Called Victory, of omen high,

Came Ráma, after vow and prayer

For nuptial bliss and fortune fair,

With the three youths in bright attire,

And stood beside his royal sire.

To Janak then Vaśishṭha sped,

And to Videha's monarch said:

“O King, Ayodhyá's ruler now

Has breathed the prayer and vowed the vow,

And with his sons expecting stands

The giver of the maidens' hands.

The giver and the taker both

Must ratify a mutual oath.

Perform the part for which we wait,

And rites of marriage celebrate.”

Skilled in the laws which Scriptures teach,

He answered thus Vaśishṭha's speech:

“O Saint, what warder bars the gate?

Whose bidding can the king await?

In one's own house what doubt is shown?

This kingdom, Sage, is all thine own.

E'en now the maidens may be found

Within the sacrificial ground:

Each vow is vowed and prayed each prayer,

And they, like fire, are shining there.

Here by the shrine my place I took

Expecting thee with eager look,

No bar the nuptial rites should stay:

What cause have we for more delay?”

When Janak's speech the monarch heard,

To sons and saints he gave the word,

And set them in the holy ring,

Then to Vaśishṭha spoke the king

Of Mithilá: “O mighty Sage,

Now let this task thy care engage,

And lend thine aid and counsel wise

The nuptial rites to solemnize.”

The saint Vaśishṭha gave assent,

And quickly to the task he went,

With Viśvámitra, nothing loth,

And Śatánanda aiding both.

Then, as the rules prescribe, they made

An altar in the midst, and laid

Fresh wreaths of fragrant flowers thereon.

The golden ladles round it shone;

And many a vase, which branches hid

Fixed in the perforated lid,

And sprays, and cups, and censers there

Stood filled with incense rich and rare;

Shell-bowls, and spoons, and salvers dressed

With gifts that greet the honoured guest;

Piles of parched rice some dishes bore,

Others with corn prepared ran o'er;

And holy grass was duly spread

In equal lengths, while prayers were said.

Next chief of saints, Vaśishṭha came

And laid the offering in the flame.

Then by the hand King Janak drew

His Sítá, beautiful to view,

And placed her, bright in rich attire,

Ráma to face, before the fire,

Thus speaking to the royal boy

Who filled Kauśalyá's heart with joy:

“Here Sítá stands, my daughter fair,

The duties of thy life to share.

Take from her father, take thy bride;

Join hand to hand, and bliss betide!

A faithful wife, most blest is she,

And as thy shade will follow thee.”

Thus as he spoke the monarch threw

O'er her young limbs the holy dew,

While Gods and saints were heard to swell

The joyous cry, 'Tis well! 'Tis well!

His daughter Sítá thus bestowed,

O'er whom the sacred drops had flowed.

King Janak's heart with rapture glowed.

Then to Prince Lakshmaṇ thus he cried:

“Take Urmilá thine offered bride,

And clasp her hand within thine own

Ere yet the lucky hour be flown.”

Then to Prince Bharat thus cried he;

“Come, take the hand of Mándavi.”

Then to Śatrughna: “In thy grasp

The hand of Srutakírti clasp.

Now, Raghu's sons, may all of you

Be gentle to your wives and true;

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Keep well the vows you make to-day,

Nor let occasion slip away.”

King Janak's word the youths obeyed;

The maidens' hands in theirs they laid.

Then with their brides the princes went

With ordered steps and reverent

Round both the fire and Janak, round

The sages and the sacred ground.

A flowery flood of lucid dyes

In rain descended from the skies,

While with celestial voices blent

Sweet strains from many an instrument,

And the nymphs danced in joyous throng

Responsive to the minstrel's song.

Such signs of exultation they

Saw on the princes' wedding day.

Still rang the heavenly music's sound

When Raghu's sons thrice circled round

The fire, each one with reverent head,

And homeward then their brides they led.

They to the sumptuous palace hied

That Janak's care had seen supplied.

The monarch girt with saint and peer

Still fondly gazing followed near.

Canto LXXIV. Ráma With The Axe.254

Soon as the night had reached its close

The hermit Viśvámitra rose;

To both the kings he bade adieu

And to the northern hill withdrew.

Ayodhyá's lord of high renown

Received farewell, and sought his town.

Then as each daughter left her bower

King Janak gave a splendid dower,

Rugs, precious silks, a warrior force,

Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse,

Divine to see and well arrayed;

And many a skilful tiring-maid,

And many a young and trusty slave

The father of the ladies gave.

Silver and coral, gold and pearls

He gave to his beloved girls.

These precious gifts the king bestowed

And sped his guest upon his road.

The lord of Mithilá's sweet town

Rode to his court and lighted down.

Ayodhyá's monarch, glad and gay,

Led by the seers pursued his way

With his dear sons of lofty mind:

The royal army marched behind.

As on he fared the voice he heard

Around of many a dismal bird,

And every beast in wild affright

Began to hurry to the right.

The monarch to Vaśishṭha cried:

“What strange misfortune will betide?

Why do the beasts in terror fly,

And birds of evil omen cry?

What is it shakes my heart with dread?

Why is my soul disquieted?”

Soon as he heard, the mighty saint

Thus answered Daśaratha's plaint

In sweetest tone: “Now, Monarch, mark,

And learn from me the meaning dark.

The voices of the birds of air

Great peril to the host declare:

The moving beasts the dread allay,

So drive thy whelming fear away,”

As he and Daśaratha spoke

A tempest from the welkin broke,

That shook the spacious earth amain

And hurled high trees upon the plain.

The sun grew dark with murky cloud,

And o'er the skies was cast a shroud,

While o'er the army, faint with dread,

A veil of dust and ashes spread.

King, princes, saints their sense retained,

Fear-stupefied the rest remained.

At length, their wits returning, all

Beneath the gloom and ashy pall

Saw Jamadagni's son with dread,

His long hair twisted round his head,

Who, sprung from Bhrigu, loved to beat

The proudest kings beneath his feet.

Firm as Kailása's hill he showed,

Fierce as the fire of doom he glowed.

His axe upon his shoulder lay,

His bow was ready for the fray,

With thirsty arrows wont to fly

Like Lightnings from the angry sky.

A long keen arrow forth he drew,

Invincible like those which flew

From Śiva's ever-conquering bow

And Tripura in death laid low.

When his wild form, that struck with awe,

Fearful as ravening flame, they saw,

Vaśishṭha and the saints whose care

Was sacrifice and muttered prayer,

Drew close together, each to each,

And questioned thus with bated speech:

“Indignant at his father's fate

Will he on warriors vent his hate,

The slayers of his father slay,

And sweep the loathed race away?

But when of old his fury raged

Seas of their blood his wrath assuaged:

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So doubtless now he has not planned

To slay all warriors in the land.”

Then with a gift the saints drew near

To Bhrigu's son whose look was fear,

And Ráma! Ráma! soft they cried.

The gift he took, no word replied.

Then Bhrigu's son his silence broke

And thus to Ráma Ráma spoke:

Canto LXXV. The Parle.

“Heroic Ráma, men proclaim

The marvels of thy matchless fame,

And I from loud-voiced rumour know

The exploit of the broken bow,

Yea, bent and broken, mighty Chief,

A feat most wondrous, past belief.

Stirred by thy fame thy face I sought:

A peerless bow I too have brought.

This mighty weapon, strong and dire,

Great Jamadagni owned, my sire.

Draw with its shaft my father's bow,

And thus thy might, O Ráma, show.

This proof of prowess let me see—

The weapon bent and drawn by thee;

Then single fight our strength shall try,

And this shall raise thy glory high.”

King Daśaratha heard with dread

The boastful speech, and thus he said;

Raising his hands in suppliant guise,

With pallid cheek and timid eyes:

“Forgetful of the bloody feud

Ascetic toils hast thou pursued;

Then, Bráhman, let thy children be

Untroubled and from danger free.

Sprung of the race of Bhrigu, who

Read holy lore, to vows most true,

Thou swarest to the Thousand-eyed

And thy fierce axe was cast aside.

Thou turnedst to thy rites away

Leaving the earth to Kaśyap's sway,

And wentest far a grove to seek

Beneath Mahendra's255 mountain peak.

Now, mighty Hermit, art thou here

To slay us all with doom severe?

For if alone my Ráma fall,

We share his fate and perish all.”

As thus the aged sire complained

The mighty chief no answer deigned.

To Ráma only thus he cried:

“Two bows, the Heavenly Artist's pride,

Celestial, peerless, vast, and strong,

By all the worlds were honoured long.

One to the Three-eyed God256 was given,

By glory to the conflict driven,

Thus armed fierce Tripura he slew:

And then by thee 'twas burst in two.

The second bow, which few may brave,

The highest Gods to Vishṇu gave.

This bow I hold; before it fall

The foeman's fenced tower and wall.

Then prayed the Gods the Sire Most High

By some unerring proof to try

Were praise for might Lord Vishṇu's due,

Or his whose Neck is stained with Blue.257

The mighty Sire their wishes knew,

And he whose lips are ever true

Caused the two Gods to meet as foes.

Then fierce the rage of battle rose:

Bristled in dread each starting hair

As Śiva strove with Vishṇu there.

But Vishṇu raised his voice amain.

And Śiva's bowstring twanged in vain;

Its master of the Three bright Eyes

Stood fixt in fury and surprise.

Then all the dwellers in the sky,

Minstrel, and saint, and God drew nigh,

And prayed them that the strife might cease,

And the great rivals met in peace.

'Twas seen how Śiva's bow has failed

Unnerved, when Vishṇu's might assailed,

And Gods and heavenly sages thence

To Vishnu gave preëminence.

Then glorious Śiva in his rage

Gave it to Devarát the sage

Who ruled Videha's fertile land,

To pass it down from hand to hand.

But this my bow, whose shafts smite down

The foeman's fenced tower and town,

To great Richíka Vishṇu lent

To be a pledge and ornament,

Then Jamadagni, Bráhman dread,

My sire, the bow inherited.

But Arjun stooped to treachery vile

And slew my noble sire by guile,

Whose penance awful strength had gained,

Whose hand the God-given bow retained.

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I heard indignant how he fell

By mournful fate, too sad to tell.

My vengeful fury since that time

Scourges all Warriors for the crime.

As generations spring to life

I war them down in endless strife.

All earth I brought beneath my sway,

And gave it for his meed and pay

To holy Kaśyap, when of yore

The rites performed by him were o'er.

Then to Mahendra's hill I turned

Strong in the strength that penance earned,

And toiled upon his lofty head

By Gods immortal visited.

The breaking of the bow I knew

From startled Gods conversing, through

The airy regions, of thy deed,

And hither came with swiftest speed.

Now, for thy Warrior's honour sake,

This best of bows, O Ráma, take:

This, owned by Vishṇu's self of old,

My sire and grandsire loved to hold.

Drawn to its head upon the string,

One town-destroying arrow bring;

If this thou can, O hero, I

In single fight thy strength will try.”

Canto LXXVI. Debarred From Heaven.

The haughty challenge, undeterred

The son of Daśaratha heard,

And cried, while reverence for his sire

Checked the full torrent of his ire:

“Before this day have I been told

The deed that stained thy hands of old.

But pity bids my soul forget:

Thy father, murdered, claimed the debt.

My strength, O Chief, thou deemest slight,

Too feeble for a Warrior's might.

Now will I show thy wondering eyes

The prowess which they dare despise.”

He hastened then with graceful ease

That mighty bow and shaft to seize.

His hand the weapon strung and swayed:

The arrow on the string was laid.

Then Jamadagni's son he eyed,

And thus in words of fury cried:

“Thou art a Bráhman, still to be

Most highly honoured, Chief, by me.

For Viśvámitra's sake beside

Shall reverence due be ne'er denied.

Though mine the power, I would not send

A dart at thee thy life to end.

But thy great power to wander free,

Which penance-rites have won for thee,

Or glorious worlds from thee to wrest,

Is the firm purpose of my breast,

And Vishṇu's dart which now I strain

Can ne'er be shot to fall in vain:

It strikes the mighty, and it stuns

The madness of the haughty ones.”

Then Gods, and saints and heavenly choir

Preceded by the General Sire,

Met in the air and gazed below

On Ráma with that wondrous bow.

Nymph, minstrel, angel, all were there,

Snake-God, and spirit of the air,

Giant, and bard, and gryphon, met,

Their eyes upon the marvel set.

In senseless hush the world was chained

While Ráma's hand the bow retained,

And Jamadagni's son amazed

And powerless on the hero gazed.

Then when his swelling heart had shrunk,

And his proud strength in torpor sunk,

Scarce his voice ventured, low and weak,

To Ráma lotus-eyed, to speak:

“When long ago I gave away

The whole broad land to Kaśyap's sway

He charged me never to remain

Within the limits of his reign.

Obedient to my guide's behest

On earth by night I never rest.

My choice is made, I will not dim

Mine honour and be false to him.

So, son of Raghu, leave me still

The power to wander where I will,

And swifter than the thought my flight

Shall place me on Mahendra's height.

My mansions of eternal joy,

By penance won, thou mayst destroy,

My path to these thy shaft may stay.

Now to the work! No more delay!

I know thee Lord of Gods; I know

Thy changeless might laid Madhu low.

All other hands would surely fail

To bend this bow. All hail! all hail!

See! all the Gods have left the skies

To bend on thee their eager eyes,

With whose achievements none compete,

Whose arm in war no God can meet.

No shame is mine, I ween, for thou,

Lord of the Worlds, hast dimmed my brow.

Now, pious Ráma, 'tis thy part

To shoot afar that glorious dart:

I, when the fatal shaft is shot,

Will seek that hill and tarry not.”

He ceased. The wondrous arrow flew,

And Jamadagni's offspring knew

Those glorious worlds to him were barred,

Once gained by penance long and hard.

Then straight the airy quarters cleared,

And the mid regions bright appeared,

While Gods and saints unnumbered praised

Ráma, the mighty bow who raised.

And Jamadagni's son, o'erawed.

Extolled his name with highest laud,

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With reverent steps around him strode,

Then hastened on his airy road.

Far from the sight of all he fled,

And rested on Mahendra's head.

Canto LXXVII. Bharat's Departure.

Then Ráma with a cheerful mind

The bow to Varuṇ's hand resigned.

Due reverence to the saints he paid,

And thus addressed his sire dismayed:

“As Bhrigu's son is far from view,

Now let the host its march pursue,

And to Ayodhyá's town proceed

In four-fold bands, with thee to lead.”

King Daśaratha thus addressed

His lips to Ráma's forehead pressed,

And held him to his aged breast.

Rejoiced in sooth was he to know

That Bhrigu's son had parted so,

And hailed a second life begun

For him and his victorious son.

He urged the host to speed renewed,

And soon Ayodhyá's gates he viewed.

High o'er the roofs gay pennons played;

Tabour and drum loud music made;

Fresh water cooled the royal road,

And flowers in bright profusion glowed.

Glad crowds with garlands thronged the ways

Rejoicing on their king to gaze

And all the town was bright and gay

Exalting in the festive day.

People and Bráhmans flocked to meet

Their monarch ere he gained the street.

The glorious king amid the throng

Rode with his glorious sons along,

And passed within his dear abode

That like Himálaya's mountain showed.

And there Kauśalyá, noble queen,

Sumitrá with her lovely mien,

Kaikeyí of the dainty waist,

And other dames his bowers who graced,

Stood in the palace side by side

And welcomed home each youthful bride:

Fair Sítá, lofty-fated dame,

Urmilá of the glorious fame,

And Kuśadhwaj's children fair,

With joyous greeting and with prayer,

As all in linen robes arrayed

With offerings at the altars prayed.

Due reverence paid to God above,

Each princess gave her soul to love,

And hidden in her inmost bower

Passed with her lord each blissful hour.

The royal youths, of spirit high,

With whom in valor none could vie,

Lived each within his palace bounds

Bright as Kuvera's pleasure-grounds,

With riches, troops of faithful friends,

And bliss that wedded life attends:

Brave princes trained in warlike skill,

And duteous to their father's will.

At length the monarch called one morn

Prince Bharat, of Kaikeyí born,

And cried: “My son, within our gates

Lord Yudhájit thine uncle waits.

The son of Kekaya's king is he,

And came, my child, to summon thee.”

Then Bharat for the road prepared,

And with Śatrughna forth he fared.

First to his sire he bade adieu,

Brave Ráma, and his mothers too.

Lord Yudhájit with joyful pride

Went forth, the brothers by his side,

And reached the city where he dwelt:

And mighty joy his father felt.

Ráma and Lakshmaṇ honoured still

Their godlike sire with duteous will.

Two constant guides for Ráma stood,

His father's wish, the people's good.

Attentive to the general weal

He thought and wrought to please and heal.

His mothers too he strove to please

With love and sonly courtesies.

At every time, in every spot,

His holy guides he ne'er forgot.

So for his virtues kind and true

Dearer and dearer Ráma grew

To Daśaratha, Bráhmans, all

In town and country, great and small.

And Ráma by his darling's side

Saw many a blissful season glide,

Lodged in her soul, each thought on her,

Lover, and friend, and worshipper.

He loved her for his father's voice

Had given her and approved the choice:

He loved her for each charm she wore

And her sweet virtues more and more.

So he her lord and second life

Dwelt in the bosom of his wife,

In double form, that, e'en apart,

Each heart could commune free with heart.

Still grew that child of Janak's race,

More goddess-fair in form and face,

The loveliest wife that e'er was seen,

In mortal mould sweet Beauty's Queen.

Then shone the son Kauśalyá bore,

With this bright dame allied,

Like Vishṇu whom the Gods adore,

With Lakshmi by his side.