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The Rámáyan of Válmíki, translated into English verse

BOOK V.787

Canto I. Hanumán's Leap.

Thus Rávaṇ's foe resolved to trace

The captive to her hiding-place

Through airy pathways overhead

Which heavenly minstrels visited.

With straining nerve and eager brows,

Like some strong husband of the cows,

In ready might he stood prepared

For the bold task his soul has dared.

O'er gem-like grass that flashed and glowed

The Vánar like a lion strode.

Roused by the thunder of his tread,

The beasts to shady coverts fled.

Tall trees he crushed or hurled aside,

And every bird was terrified.

Around him loveliest lilies grew,

Pale pink, and red, and white, and blue,

And tints of many a metal lent

The light of varied ornament.

Gandharvas, changing forms at will,

And Yakshas roamed the lovely hill,

And countless Serpent-Gods were seen

Where flowers and grass were fresh and green.

As some resplendent serpent takes

His pastime in the best of lakes,

So on the mountain's woody height

The Vánar wandered with delight.

Then, standing on the flowery sod,

He paid his vows to saint and God.

Svayambhu788 and the Sun he prayed,

And the swift Wind to lend him aid,

And Indra, sovereign of the skies,

To bless his hardy enterprise.

Then once again the chief addressed

The Vánars from the mountain crest:

“Swift as a shaft from Ráma's bow

To Rávaṇ's city will I go,

And if she be not there will fly

And seek the lady in the sky;

Or, if in heaven she be not found,

Will hither bring the giant bound.”

He ceased; and mustering his might

Sprang downward from the mountain height,

While, shattered by each mighty limb,

The trees unrooted followed him.

The shadow on the ocean cast

By his vast form, as on he passed,

Flew like a ship before the gale

When the strong breeze has filled the sail,

And where his course the Vánar held

The sea beneath him raged and swelled.

Then Gods and all the heavenly train

Poured flowerets down in gentle rain;

Their voices glad Gandharvas raised,

And saints in heaven the Vánar praised.

Fain would the Sea his succour lend

And Raghu's noble son befriend.

He, moved by zeal for Ráma's sake,

The hill Maináka789 thus bespake:

“O strong Maináka, heaven's decree

In days of old appointed thee

To be the Asurs bar, and keep

The rebels in the lowest deep.

Thou guardest those whom heaven has cursed

Lest from their prison-house they burst,

And standest by the gates of hell

Their limitary sentinel.

To thee is given the power to spread

Or spring above thy watery bed.

Now, best of noble mountains, rise

And do the thing that I advise.

E'en now above thy buried crest

Flies mighty Hanumán, the best

Of Vánars, moved for Ráma's sake

A wonderous deed to undertake.

Lift up thy head that he may stay

And rest him on his weary way.”

He heard, and from his watery shroud,

As bursts the sun from autumn cloud,

Rose swifty, crowned with plant and tree,

And stood above the foamy sea.790

There with his lofty peaks upraised

Bright as a hundred suns he blazed,

And crest and crag of burnished gold

Flashed on the flood that round him rolled.

[pg 395]

The Vánar thought the mountain rose

A hostile bar to interpose,

And, like a wind-swept cloud, o'erthrew

The glittering mountain as he flew.

Then from the falling hill rang out

A warning voice and joyful shout.

Again he raised him high in air

To meet the flying Vánar there,

And standing on his topmost peak

In human form began to speak:791

“Best of the Vánars' noblest line,

A mighty task, O chief, is thine.

Here for a while, I pray thee, light

And rest upon the breezy height.

A prince of Raghu's line was he

Who gave his glory to the Sea,792

Who now to Ráma's envoy shows

High honour for the debt he owes.

He bade me lift my buried head

Uprising from my watery bed,

And woo the Vánar chief to rest

A moment on my glittering crest.

Refresh thy weary limbs, and eat

My mountain fruits for they are sweet.

I too, O chieftain, know thee well;

Three worlds thy famous virtues tell;

And none, I ween, with thee may vie

Who spring impetuous through the sky.

To every guest, though mean and low.

The wise respect and honour show;

And how shall I neglect thee, how

Slight the great guest so near me now?

Son of the Wind, 'tis thine to share

The might of him who shakes the air;

And,—for he loves his offspring,—he

Is honoured when I honour thee.

Of yore, when Krita's age793 was new,

The little hills and mountains flew

Where'er they listed, borne on wings

More rapid than the feathered king's.794

But mighty terror came on all

The Gods and saints who feared their fall.

And Indra in his anger rent

Their pinions with the bolts he sent.

When in his ruthless fury he

Levelled his flashing bolt at me,

The great-souled Wind inclined to save,

And laid me neath the ocean's wave.

Thus by the favour of the sire

I kept my cherished wings entire;

And for this deed of kindness done

I honour thee his noble son.

O come, thy weary limbs relieve,

And honour due from me receive.”

“I may not rest,” the Vánar cried;

“I must not stay or turn aside.

Yet pleased am I, thou noblest hill,

And as the deed accept thy will.”

Thus as he spoke he lightly pressed

With his broad hand the mountain's crest,

Then bounded upward to the height

Of heaven, rejoicing in his might,

And through the fields of boundless blue,

The pathway of his father, flew.

Gods, saints, and heavenly bards beheld

That flight that none had paralleled,

Then to the Nágas' mother795 came

And thus addressed the sun-bright dame:

“See, Hanumán with venturous leap

Would spring across the mighty deep,—

A Vánar prince, the Wind-God's seed:

Come, Surasá, his course impede.

In Rákshas form thy shape disguise,

Terrific, like a hill in size:

Let thy red eyes with fury glow,

And high as heaven thy body grow.

With fearful tusks the chief defy,

That we his power and strength may try.

He will with guile thy hold elude,

Or own thy might, by thee subdued.”

Pleased with the grateful honours paid,

The godlike dame their words obeyed,

Clad in a shape of terror she

Sprang from the middle of the sea,

And, with fierce accents that appalled

All creatures, to the Vánar called:

“Come, prince of Vánars, doomed to be

My food this day by heaven's decree.

Such boon from ages long ago

To Brahmá's favouring will I owe.”

She ceased, and Hanumán replied,

By shape and threat unterrified:

“Brave Ráma with his Maithil spouse

Lodged in the shade of Daṇḍak's boughs,

Thence Rávan king of giants stole

Sítá the joy of Ráma's soul.

[pg 396]

By Ráma's high behest to her

I go a willing messenger;

And never shouldst them hinder one

Who toils for Daśaratha's son.

First captive Sítá will I see,

And him who sent and waits for me,

Then come and to thy will submit,

Yea, by my truth I promise it.”

“Nay, hope not thus thy life to save;

Not such the boon that Brahmá gave.

Enter my mouth,” was her reply,

“Then forward on thy journey hie!”796

“Stretch, wider stretch thy jaws,” exclaimed

The Vánar chief, to ire inflamed;

And, as the Rákshas near him drew,

Ten leagues in height his stature grew.

Then straight, her threatening jaws between,

A gulf of twenty leagues was seen.

To fifty leagues he waxed, and still

Her mouth grew wider at her will.

Then smaller than a thumb became,

Shrunk by his power, the Vánar's frame.797

He leaped within, and turning round

Sprang through the portal at a bound.

Then hung in air a moment, while

He thus addressed her with a smile:

“O Daksha's child,798 farewell at last!

For I within thy mouth have passed.

Thou hast the gift of Brahmá's grace:

I go, the Maithil queen to trace.”

Then, to her former shape restored,

She thus addressed the Vánar lord:

“Then forward to the task, and may

Success and joy attend thy way!

Go, and the rescued lady bring

In triumph to her lord and king.”

Then hosts of spirits as they gazed

The daring of the Vánar praised.

Through the broad fields of ether, fast

Garuḍ's royal self, he passed,

The region of the cloud and rain,

Loved by the gay Gandharva train,

Where mid the birds that came and went

Shone Indra's glorious bow unbent,

And like a host of wandering stars

Flashed the high Gods' celestial cars.

Fierce Sinhiká799 who joyed in ill

And changed her form to work her will,

Descried him on his airy way

And marked the Vánar for her prey.

“This day at length,” the demon cried,

“My hunger shall be satisfied,”

And at his passing shadow caught

Delighted with the cheering thought.

The Vánar felt the power that stayed

And held him as she grasped his shade,

Like some tall ship upon the main

That struggles with the wind in vain.

Below, above, his eye he bent

And scanned the sea and firmament.

High from the briny deep upreared

The monster's hideous form appeared,

“Sugríva's tale,” he cried, “is true:

This is the demon dire to view

Of whom the Vánar monarch told,

Whose grasp a passing shade can hold.”

Then, as a cloud in rain-time grows

His form, dilating, swelled and rose.

Wide as the space from heaven to hell

Her jaws she opened with a yell,

And rushed upon her fancied prey

With cloud-like roar to seize and slay.

The Vánar swift as thought compressed

His borrowed bulk of limb and chest,

And stood with one quick bound inside

The monstrous mouth she opened wide.

Hid like the moon when Ráhu draws

The orb within his ravening jaws.

Within that ample cavern pent

The demon's form he tore and rent,

And, from the mangled carcass freed,

Came forth again with thought-like speed.800

[pg 397]

Thus with his skill the fiend he slew,

Then to his wonted stature grew.

The spirits saw the demon die

And hailed the Vánar from the sky:

“Well hast thou fought a wondrous fight

Nor spared the fiend's terrific might,

On, on! perform the blameless deed,

And in thine every wish succeed.

Ne'er can they fail in whom combine

Such valour, thought, and skill as thine.”

Pleased with their praises as they sang,

Again through fields of air he sprang,

And now, his travail wellnigh done,

The distant shore was almost won.

Before him on the margent stood

In long dark line a waving wood,

And the fair island, bright and green

With flowers and trees, was clearly seen,

And every babbling brook that gave

Her lord the sea a tribute wave.

He lighted down on Lamba's peak

Which tinted metals stain and streak,

And looked where Lanká's splendid town

Shone on the mountain like a crown.

Canto II. Lanká.

The glorious sight a while he viewed,

Then to the town his way pursued.

Around the Vánar as he went

Breathed from the wood delicious scent,

And the soft grass beneath his feet

With gem-like flowers was bright and sweet.

Still as the Vánar nearer drew

More clearly rose the town to view.

The palm her fan-like leaves displayed,

Priyálas801 lent their pleasant shade,

And mid the lower greenery far

Conspicuous rose the Kovidár.802

A thousand trees mid flowers that glowed

Hung down their fruit's delicious load,803

And in their crests that rocked and swayed

Sweet birds delightful music made.

And there were pleasant pools whereon

The glories of the lotus shone;

And gleams of sparkling fountains, stirred

By many a joyous water-bird.

Around, in lovely gardens grew

Blooms sweet of scent and bright of hue,

And Lanká, seat of Rávaṇ's sway,

Before the wondering Vánar lay:

With stately domes and turrets tall,

Encircled by a golden wall,

And moats whose waters were aglow

With lily blossoms bright below:

For Sítá's sake defended well

With bolt and bar and sentinel,

And Rákshases who roamed in bands

With ready bows in eager hands.

He saw the stately mansions rise

Like pale-hued clouds in autumn skies;

Where noble streets were broad and bright,

And banners waved on every height.

Her gates were glorious to behold

Rich with the shine of burnished gold:

A lovely city planned and decked

By heaven's creative architect,804

Fairest of earthly cities meet

To be the Gods' celestial seat.

The Vánar by the northern gate

Thus in his heart began debate

“Our mightiest host would strive in vain

To take this city on the main:

A city that may well defy

The chosen warriors of the sky;

A city never to be won

E'en by the arm of Raghu's son.

Here is no hope by guile to win

The hostile hearts of those within.

'Twere vain to war, or bribe, or sow

Dissension mid the Vánar foe.

But now my search must I pursue

Until the Maithil queen I view:

And, when I find the captive dame,

Make victory mine only aim.

But, if I wear my present shape,

How shall I enter and escape

The Rákshas troops, their guards and spies,

And sleepless watch of cruel eyes?

The fiends of giant race who hold

This mighty town are strong and bold;

And I must labour to elude

The fiercely watchful multitude.

I in a shape to mock their sight

Must steal within the town by night,

Blind with my art the demons' eyes,

And thus achieve my enterprise.

How may I see, myself unseen

Of the fierce king, the captive queen,

And meet her in some lonely place,

With none beside her, face to face?”

When the bright sun had left the skies

The Vánar dwarfed his mighty size,

[pg 398]

And, in the straitest bounds restrained,

The bigness of a cat retained.805

Then, when the moon's soft light was spread,

Within the city's walls he sped.

Canto III. The Guardian Goddess.

There from the circling rampart's height

He gazed upon the wondrous sight;

Broad gates with burnished gold displayed,

And courts with turkises inlaid;

With gleaming silver, gems, and rows

Of crystal stairs and porticoes.

In semblance of a Rákshas dame

The city's guardian Goddess came,—

For she with glances sure and keen

The entrance of a foe had seen,—

And thus with fury in her eye

Addressed him with an angry cry:

“Who art thou? what has led thee, say,

Within these walls to find thy way?

Thou mayst not enter here in spite

Of Rávaṇ and his warriors' might.”

“And who art thou?” the Vánar cried,

By form and frown unterrified,

“Why hast thou met me by the gate,

And chid me thus infuriate?”

He ceased: and Lanká made reply:

“The guardian of the town am I,

Who watch for ever to fulfil

My lord the Rákshas monarch's will.

But thou shalt fall this hour, and deep

Shall be thy never-ending sleep.”

Again he spake: “In spite of thee

This golden city will I see.

Her gates and towers, and all the pride

Of street and square from side to side,

And freely wander where I please

Amid her groves of flowering trees;

On all her beauties sate mine eye.

Then, as I came, will homeward hie.”

Swift with an angry roar she smote

With her huge hand the Vánar's throat.

The smitten Vánar, rage-impelled,

With fist upraised the monster felled:

But quick repented, stirred with shame

And pity for a vanquished dame,

When with her senses troubled, weak

With terror, thus she strove to speak:

“O spare me thou whose arm is strong:

O spare me, and forgive the wrong.

The brave that law will ne'er transgress

That spares a woman's helplessness.

Hear, best of Vánars, brave and bold,

What Brahmá's self of yore foretold;

“Beware,” he said, “the fatal hour

When thou shalt own a Vánar's power.

Then is the giants' day of fear,

For terror and defeat are near.”

Now, Vánar chief, o'ercome by thee,

I own the truth of heaven's decree.

For Sítá's sake will ruin fall

On Rávaṇ, and his town, and all.”

Canto IV. Within The City.

The guardian goddess thus subdued,

The Vánar chief his way pursued,

And reached the broad imperial street

Where fresh-blown flowers were bright and sweet.

The city seemed a fairer sky

Where cloud-like houses rose on high,

Whence the soft sound of tabors came

Through many a latticed window frame,

And ever and anon rang out

The merry laugh and joyous shout.

From house to house the Vánar went

And marked each varied ornament,

Where leaves and blossoms deftly strung

About the crystal columns hung.

Then soft and full and sweet and clear

The song of women charmed his ear,

And, blending with their dulcet tones,

Their anklets' chime and tinkling zones.

He heard the Rákshas minstrel sing

The praises of their matchless king;

And softly through the evening air

Came murmurings of text and prayer.

Here moved a priest with tonsured head,

And there an eager envoy sped,

Mid crowds with hair in matted twine

Clothed in the skins of deer and kine,—

Whose only arms, which none might blame,

Were blades of grass and holy flame806

There savage warriors roamed in bands

With clubs and maces in their hands,

Some dwarfish forms, some huge of size,

With single ears and single eyes.

Some shone in glittering mail arrayed

With bow and mace and flashing blade;

Fiends of all shapes and every hue,

Some fierce and foul, some fair to view.

[pg 399]

He saw the grisly legions wait

In strictest watch at Rávaṇ's gate,

Whose palace on the mountain crest

Rose proudly towering o'er the rest,

Fenced with high ramparts from the foe,

And lotus-covered moats below.

But Hanumán, unhindered, found

Quick passage through the guarded bound,

Mid elephants of noblest breed,

And gilded car and neighing steed.

[I omit Canto V. which corresponds to chapter XI. in Gorresio's edition. That scholar justly observes: “The eleventh chapter, Description of Evening, is certainly the work of the Rhapsodists and an interpolation of later date. The chapter might be omitted without any injury to the action of the poem, and besides the metre, style, conceits and images differ from the general tenour of the poem; and that continual repetition of the same sounds at the end of each hemistich which is not exactly rime, but assonance, reveals the artificial labour of a more recent age.” The following sample will probably be enough.

Fair shone the moon, as if to lend

His cheering light to guide a friend,

And, circled by the starry host,

Looked down upon the wild sea-coast.

The Vánar cheiftain raised his eyes,

And saw him sailing through the skies

Like a bright swan who joys to take

His pastime on a silver lake;

Fair moon that calms the mourner's pain.

Heaves up the waters of the main,

And o'er the life beneath him throws

A tender light of soft repose,

The charm that clings to Mandar's hill,

Gleams in the sea when winds are still,

And decks the lilly's opening flower,

Showed in that moon her sweetest power.

I am unable to show the difference of style in a translation.]