And to their sire obeisance made,
Where high he stood above the car
In wondrous light that shone afar,
His limbs in radiant garments dressed
Whereon no spot of dust might rest.
When on the son he loved so well
The eyes of Daśaratha fell,
He strained the hero to his breast
And thus with gentle words addressed:
“No joy to me is heavenly bliss,
For there these eyes my Ráma miss.
Enrolled on high with saint and sage,
Thy woes, dear son, my thoughts engage.
Kaikeyí’s guile I ne’er forget:
Her cruel words will haunt me yet,
Which sent thee forth, my son, to roam
The forest far from me and home.
Now when I look on each dear face,
And hold you both in fond embrace,
My heart is full of joy to see
The sons I love from danger free.
Now know I what the Gods designed,
And how in Ráma’s form enshrined
The might of Purushottam lay,
The tyrant of the worlds to slay.
Ah, how Kausalyá will rejoice
To hear again her darling’s voice,
And, all thy weary wanderings o’er,
To gaze upon thy face once more.
Ah blest, for ever blest are they
Whose eyes shall see the glorious day
Of thy return in joy at last,
Thy term of toil and exile past.
Ayodhyá’s lord, begin thy reign,
And day by day new glory gain.”
He ceased: and Ráma thus replied:
“Be not this grace, O sire, denied.
Those hasty words, that curse revoke
Which from thy lips in anger broke:
“Kaikeyí, be no longer mine:
I cast thee off, both thee and thine.”
O father, let no sorrow fall
On her or hers: thy curse recall.”
“Yea, she shall live, if so thou wilt,”
The sire replied, “absolved from guilt.”
Round Lakshmaṇ then his arms he threw,
And moved by love began anew:
“Great store of merit shall be thine,
And brightly shall thy glory shine;
Secure on earth thy brother’s grace.
And high in heaven shall be thy place.
Thy glorious king obey and fear:
To him the triple world is dear.
God, saint, and sage, by Indra led,
To Ráma bow the reverent head,
Nor from the Lord, the lofty-souled,
Their worship or their praise withhold.
Heart of the Gods, supreme is he,
The One who ne’er shall cease to be.”
On Sítá then he looked and smiled;
“List to my words” he said, “dear child,
Let not thy gentle breast retain
One lingering trace of wrath or pain.
When by the fire thy truth be proved,
By love for thee his will was moved.
The furious flame thy faith confessed
Which shrank not from the awful test:
And thou, in every heart enshrined,
Shalt live the best of womankind.”
He ceased: he bade the three adieu,
And home to heaven exulting flew.
Canto CXXII. Indra’s Boon.
Then Indra, he whose fiery stroke
Slew furious Páka, turned and spoke:
“A glorious day, O chief, is this,
Rich with the fruit of lasting bliss.
Well pleased are we: we love thee well
Now speak, thy secret wishes tell.”
Thus spake the sovereign of the sky,
And this was Ráma’s glad reply:
“If I have won your grace, incline
To grant this one request of mine.
Restore, O King: the Vánar dead
Whose blood for me was nobly shed.
To life and strength my friends recall,
And bring them back from Yáma’s hall.
When, fresh in might the warriors rise,
Prepare a feast to glad their eyes.
Let fruits of every season glow,
And streams of purest water flow.”
Thus Raghu’s son, great-hearted, prayed,
And Indra thus his answer made:
“High is the boon thou seekest: none
Should win this grace but Raghu’s son.
Yet, faithful to the word I spake,
I grant the prayer for thy dear sake.
The Vánars whom the giants slew
Their life and vigour shall renew.
Their strength repaired, their gashes healed
Whose torrents dyed the battle field,
The warrior hosts from death shall rise
Like sleepers when their slumber flies.”
Restored from Yáma’s dark domain
The Vánar legions filled the plain,
And, round the royal chief arrayed,
With wondering hearts obeisance paid.
Each God the son of Raghu praised,
And cried as loud his voice he raised:
“Turn, King, to fair Ayodhyá speed,
And leave thy friends of Vánar breed.
Thy true devoted consort cheer
After long days of woe and fear.
Bharat, thy loyal brother, see,
A hermit now for love of thee.
The tears of Queen Kauśalyá dry,
And light with joy each stepdame’s eye;
Then consecrated king of men
Make glad each faithful citizen.”
They ceased: and borne on radiant cars
Sought their bright home amid the stars.
Canto CXXIII. The Magic Car.
Then slept the tamer of his foes
And spent the night in calm repose.
Vibhishaṇ came when morning broke,
And hailed the royal chief, and spoke:
“Here wait thee precious oil and scents,
And rich attire and ornaments.
The brimming urns are newly filled,
And women in their duty skilled,
With lotus-eyes, thy call attend,
Assistance at thy bath to lend.”
“Let others,” Ráma cried, “desire
These precious scents, this rich attire,
I heed not such delights as these,
For faithful Bharat, ill at ease,
Watching for me is keeping now
Far far away his rigorous vow.
By Bharat’s side I long to stand,
I long to see my fatherland.
Far is Ayodhyá: long, alas,
The dreary road and hard to pass.”
“One day,” Vibhishaṇ cried, “one day
Shall bear thee o’er that length of way.
Is not the wondrous chariot mine,
Named Pushpak, wrought by hands divine.
The prize which Rávaṇ seized of old
Victorious o’er the God of Gold?
This chariot, kept with utmost care,
Will waft thee through the fields of air,
And thou shalt light unwearied down
In fair Ayodhyá’s royal town.
But yet if aught that I have done
Has pleased thee well, O Raghu’s son;
If still thou carest for thy friend,
Some little time in Lanká spend;
There after toil of battle rest
Within my halls an honoured guest.”
Again the son of Raghu spake:
“Thy life was perilled for my sake.
Thy counsel gave me priceless aid:
All honours have been richly paid.
Scarce can my love refuse, O best
Of giant kind, thy last request.
But still I yearn once more to see
My home and all most dear to me;
Nor can I brook one hour’s delay:
Forgive me, speed me on my way.”
He ceased: the magic car was brought.
Of yore by Viśvakarmá wrought.
In sunlike sheen it flashed and blazed;
And Raghu’s sons in wonder gazed.
Canto CXXIV. The Departure.
The giant lord the chariot viewed,
And humbly thus his speech renewed:
“Behold, O King, the car prepared:
Now be thy further will declared.”
He ceased: and Ráma spake once more:
“These hosts who thronged to Lanká’s shore
Their faith and might have nobly shown,
And set thee on the giants’ throne.
Let pearls and gems and gold repay
The feats of many a desperate day,
That all may go triumphant hence
Proud of their noble recompense.”
Vibhishaṇ, ready at his call,
With gold and gems enriched them all.
Then Ráma clomb the glorious car
That shone like day’s resplendent star.
There in his lap he held his dame
Vailing her eyes in modest shame.
Beside him Lakshmaṇ took his stand,
Whose mighty bow still armed his hand,
“O King Vibhishaṇ,” Ráma cried,
“O Vánar chiefs, so long allied,
My comrades till the foemen fell,
List, for I speak a long farewell.
The task, in doubt and fear begun,
With your good aid is nobly done.
Leave Lanká’s shore, your steps retrace,
Brave warriors of the Vánar race.
Thou, King Sugríva, true, through all,
To friendship’s bond and duty’s call,
Seek far Kishkindhá with thy train
And o’er thy realm in glory reign.
Farewell, Vibhishaṇ, Lanká’s throne
Won by our arms is now thine own,
Thou, mighty lord, hast nought to dread
From heavenly Gods by Indra led.
My last farewell, 0 King, receive,
For Lanká’s isle this hour I leave.”
Loud rose their cry in answer: “We,
O Raghu’s son, would go with thee.
With thee delighted would we stray
Where sweet Ayodhyá’s groves are gay,
Then in the joyous synod view
King-making balm thy brows bedew;
Our homage to Kauśalyá pay,
And hasten on our homeward way.”
Their prayer the son of Raghu heard,
And spoke, his heart with rapture stirred:
“Sugríva, O my faithful friend,
Vibhishaṇ and ye chiefs, ascend.
A joy beyond all joys the best
Will fill my overflowing breast,
If girt by you, O noble band,
I seek again my native land.”
With Vánar lords in danger tried
Sugríva sprang to Ráma’s side,
And girt by chiefs of giant kind
Vibhíshan’s step was close behind.
Swift through the air, as Ráma chose,
The wondrous car from earth arose.
And decked with swans and silver wings
Bore through the clouds its freight of kings.
Canto CXXV. The Return.
Then Ráma, speeding through the skies,
Bent on the earth his eager eyes:
“Look, Sítá, see, divinely planned
And built by Viśvakarmá’s hand,
Lanká the lovely city rest
Enthroned on Mount Trikúṭa’s crest
Behold those fields, ensanguined yet,
Where Vánar hosts and giants met.
There, vainly screened by charm and spell,
The robber Rávan fought and fell.
There knelt Mandodarí(1021) and shed
Her tears in floods for Rávan dead.
And every dame who loved him sent
From her sad heart her wild lament.
There gleams the margin of the deep,
Where, worn with toil, we sank to sleep.
Look, love, the unconquered sea behold,
King Varuṇ’s home ordained of old,
Whose boundless waters roar and swell
Rich with their store of pearl and shell.
O see, the morning sun is bright
On fair Hiraṇyanábha’s(1022) height,
Who rose from Ocean’s sheltering breast
That Hanumán might stay and rest.
There stretches, famed for evermore,
The wondrous bridge from shore to shore.
The worlds, to life’s remotest day,
Due reverence to the work shall pay,
Which holier for the lapse of time
Shall give release from sin and crime.
Now thither bend, dear love, thine eyes
Where green with groves Kishkindhá lies,
The seat of King Sugríva’s reign,
Where Báli by this hand was slain.(1023)
There Ríshyamúka’s hill behold
Bright gleaming with embedded gold.
There too my wandering foot I set,
There King Sugríva first I met.
And, where yon trees their branches wave,
My promise of assistance gave.
There, flushed with lilies, Pampá shines
With banks which greenest foliage lines,
Where melancholy steps I bent
And mourned thee with a mad lament.
There fierce Kabandha, spreading wide
His giant arms, in battle died.
Turn, Sítá, turn thine eyes and see
In Janasthán that glorious tree:
There Rávaṇ, lord of giants slew
Our friend Jaṭáyus brave and true,
Thy champion in the hopeless strife,
Who gave for thee his noble life.
Now mark that glade amid the trees
Where once we lived as devotees.
See, see our leafy cot between
Those waving boughs of densest green,
Where Rávaṇ seized his prize and stole
My love the darling of my soul.
O, look again: beneath thee gleams
Godávarí the best of streams,
Whose lucid waters sweetly glide
By lilies that adorn her side.
There dwelt Agastya, holy sage,
In plantain-sheltered hermitage.
See Śarabhanga’s humble shed
Which sovereign Indra visited.
See where the gentle hermits dwell
Neath Atri’s rule who loved us well;
Where once thine eyes were blest to see
His sainted dame who talked with thee.
Now rest thine eyes with new delight
On Chitrakúṭa’s woody height,
See Jumna flashing in the sun
Through groves of brilliant foliage run.
Screened by the shade of spreading boughs.
There Bharadvája keeps his vows,
There Gangá, river of the skies,
Rolls the sweet wave that purifies,
There Śringavera’s towers ascend
Where Guha reigns, mine ancient friend.
I see, I see thy glittering spires,
Ayodhyá, city of my sires.
Bow down, bow down thy head, my sweet,
Our home, our long-lost home to greet.”
Canto CXXVI. Bharat Consoled.
But Ráma bade the chariot stay,
And halting in his airy way,
In Bharadvája’s holy shade
His homage to the hermit paid.
“O saint,” he cried, “I yearn to know
My dear Ayodhyá’s weal and woe.
O tell me that the people thrive,
And that the queens are yet alive.”
Joy gleamed in Bhardvája’s eye,
Who gently smiled and made reply:
“Thy brother, studious of thy will,
Is faithful and obedient still.
In tangled twine he coils his hair:
Thy safe return is all his care.
Before thy shoes he humbly bends,
And to thy house and realm attends.
When first these dreary years began,
When first I saw the banished man,
With Sítá, in his hermit coat,
At this sad heart compassion smote.
My breast with tender pity swelled:
I saw thee from thy home expelled,
Reft of all princely state, forlorn,
A hapless wanderer travel-worn,
Firm in thy purpose to fulfil
Thy duty and thy father’s will.
But boundless is my rapture now:
Triumphant, girt with friends, art thou.
Where’er thy wandering steps have been,
Thy joy and woe mine eyes have seen.
Thy glorious deeds to me art known,
The Bráhmans saved, the foes o’erthrown.
Such power have countless seasons spent
In penance and devotion lent.
Thy virtues, best of chiefs, I know,
And now a boon would fain bestow.
This hospitable gift(1024) receive:
Then with the dawn my dwelling leave.”
The bended head of Ráma showed
His reverence for the grace bestowed;
Then for each brave companion’s sake
He sought a further boon and spake:
“O let that mighty power of thine
The road to fair Ayodhyá line
With trees where fruit of every hue
The Vánars’ eye and taste may woo,
And flowers of every season, sweet
With stores of honeyed juice, may meet.”
The hero ceased: the hermit bent
His reverend head in glad assent;
And swift, as Bharadvája willed,
The prayer of Ráma was fulfilled.
For many a league the lengthening road
Trees thick with fruit and blossom showed
With luscious beauty to entice
The taste like trees of Paradise.
The Vánars passed beneath the shade
Of that delightful colonnade,
Still tasting with unbounded glee
The treasures of each wondrous tree.
Canto CXXVII. Ráma’s Message.
But Ráma, when he first looked down
And saw afar Ayodhyá’s town,
Had called Hanumán to his side,
The chief on whom his heart relied,
And said: “Brave Vánar, good at need,
Haste onward, to Ayodhyá speed,
And learn, I pray, if all be well
With those who in the palace dwell.
But as thou speedest on thy way
Awhile at Śringavera stay.
Tell Guha the Nishádas’ lord,
That victor, with my queen restored,
In health and strength with many a friend
Homeward again my steps I bend.
Thence by the road that he will show
On to Ayodhyá swiftly go.
There with my love my brother greet,
And all our wondrous tale repeat.
Say that victorious in the strife
I come with Lakshmaṇ and my wife,
Then mark with keenest eye each trace
Of joy or grief on Bharat’s face.
Be all his gestures closely viewed,
Each change of look and attitude.
Where breathes the man who will not cling
To all that glorifies a king?
Where beats the heart that can resign
An ancient kingdom, nor repine
To lose a land renowned for breeds
Of elephants and warrior steeds?
If, won by custom day by day,
My brother Bharat thirsts for sway,
Still let him rule the nations, still
The throne of old Ikshváku fill.
Go, mark him well: his feelings learn,
And, ere we yet be near return.”
He ceased: and, garbed in human form,
Forth sped Hanúmán swift as storm.
Sublime in air he rose, and through
The region of his father flew.
He saw far far beneath his feet
Where Gangá’s flood and Jumna meet.
Descending from the upper air
He entered Śringavera, where
King Guha’s heart was well content
To hear the message Ráma sent.
Then, with his mighty strength renewed,
The Vánar chief his way pursued,
Válúkiní was far behind,
And Gomatí with forests lined,
And golden fields and pastures gay
With flocks and herds beneath him lay.
Then Nandigráma charmed his eye
Where flowers were bright with every dye,
And trees of lovely foliage made
With meeting boughs delightful shade,
Where women watched in trim array
Their little sons’ and grandsons’ play.
His eager eye on Bharat fell
Who sat before his lonely cell.
In hermit weed, with tangled hair,
Pale, weak, and worn with ceaseless care.
His royal pomp and state resigned
For Ráma still he watched and pined,
Still to his dreary vows adhered,
And royal Ráma’s shoes revered.
Yet still the terror of his arm
Preserved the land from fear and harm.
The Wind-God’s son, in form a man,
Raised reverent hands and thus began:
“Fond greeting, Prince, I bring to thee,
And Ráma’s self has sent it: he
For whom thy spirit sorrows yet
As for a hapless anchoret
In Daṇḍak wood, in dire distress,
With matted hair and hermit dress.
This sorrow from thy bosom fling,
And hear the tale of joy I bring.
This day thy brother shalt thou meet
Exulting in his foe’s defeat,
Freed from his toil and lengthened vow,
The light of victory on his brow,
With Sítá, Lakshmaṇ and his friends
Homeward at last his steps he bends.”
Then joy, too mighty for control,
Rushed in full flood o’er Bharat’s soul;
His reeling sense and strength gave way,
And fainting on the earth he lay,
At length upspringing from the ground,
His arms about Hanúmán wound,
With tender tears of rapture sprung,
He dewed the neck to which he clung:
“Art thou a God or man,” he cried,
“Whom love and pity hither guide?
For this a hundred thousand kine,
A hundred villages be thine.
A score of maids of spotless lives
To thee I give to be thy wives,
Of golden hue and bright of face,
Each lovely for her tender grace.”
He ceased a while by joy subdued,
And then his eager speech renewed.
Canto CXXVIII. Hanumán’s Story.
“In doubt and fear long years have passed
And glorious tidings come at last.
True, true is now the ancient verse
Which men in time of bliss rehearse:
“Once only in a hundred years
Great joy to mortal men appears.”
But now his woes and triumph tell,
And loss and gain as each befell.”
He ceased: Hanúmán mighty-souled
The tale of Ráma’s wanderings told
From that first day on which he stood
In the drear shade of Daṇḍak wood.
He told how fierce Virádha fell;
He told of Śarabhanga’s cell
Where Ráma saw with wondering eyes
Indra descended from the skies.
He told how Śúrpaṇakhí came,
Her soul aglow with amorous flame,
And fled repulsed, with rage and tears,
Reft of her nose and severed ears.
He told how Ráma’s might subdued
The giants’ furious multitude;
How Khara with the troops he led
And Triśirás and Dúshaṇ bled:
How Ráma, tempted from his cot,
The golden deer pursued and shot,
And Rávaṇ came and stole away
The Maithil queen his hapless prey,
When, as he fought, the dame to save,
His noble life Jatáyus gave:
How Ráma still the the search renewed,
The robber to his hold pursued,
Bridging the sea from shore to shore,
And found his queen to part no more.(1025)
Canto CXXIX. The Meeting With Bharat.
O’erwhelmed with rapture Bharat heard
The tale that all his being stirred,
And, heralding the glad event,
This order to Śatrughna sent:
“Let every shrine with flowers be gay
Let incense burn and music play.
Go forth, go forth to meet your king,
Let tabours sound and minstrels sing,
Let bards swell high the note of praise
Skilled in the lore of ancient days,
Call forth the royal matrons: call
Each noble from the council hall.
Send all we love and honour most,
Send Bráhmans and the warrior host,
A glorious company to bring
In triumph home our lord the king.”
Great rapture filled Śatrughna’s breast,
Obedient to his brother’s hest.
“Send forth ten thousand men” he cried,
“Let brawny arms be stoutly plied,
And, smoothing all with skilful care,
The road for Kośal’s king prepare.
Then o’er the earth let thousands throw
Fresh showers of water cool as snow,
And others strew with garlands gay
With loveliest blooms our monarch’s way.
On tower and temple porch and gate
Let banners wave in royal state,
And be each roof and terrace lined
With blossoms loose and chaplets twined.”
The nobles hasting forth fulfilled
His order as Śatrughna willed.
Sublime on elephants they rode
Whose gilded girths with jewels glowed.
Attended close by thousands more
Gay with the gear and flags they bore.
A thousand chiefs their steeds bestrode,
Their glittering cars a thousand showed.
And countless hosts in rich array
Pursued on foot their eager way.
Veiled from the air with silken screens
In litters rode the widowed queens.
Kausalyá first, acknowledged head
And sovereign of the household, led:
Sumitrá next, and after, dames
Of lower rank and humbler names.
Then compassed by a white-robed throng
Of Bráhmans, heralded with song,
With shouts of joy from countless throats,
And shells’ and tambours’ mingled notes,
And drums resounding long and loud,
Exulting Bharat joined the crowd.
Still on his head, well-trained in lore
Of duty, Ráma’s shoes he bore.
The moon-white canopy was spread
With flowery twine engarlanded,
And jewelled cheuries, meet to hold
O’er Ráma’s brow, shone bright with gold,
Though Nandigráma’s town they neared,
Of Ráma yet no sign appeared.
Then Bharat called the Vánar chief
And questioned thus in doubt and grief:
“Hast thou uncertain, like thy kind,
A sweet delusive guile designed?
Where, where is royal Ráma? show
The hero, victor of the foe.
I gaze, but see no Vánars still
Who wear each varied shape at will.”
In eager love thus Bharat cried,
And thus the Wind-God’s son replied:
“Look, Bharat, on those laden trees
That murmur with the song of bees;
For Ráma’s sake the saint has made
Untimely fruits, unwonted shade.
Such power in ages long ago
Could Indra’s gracious boon bestow.
O, hear the Vánars’ voices, hear
The shouting which proclaims them near.
E’en now about to cross they seem
Sweet Gomatí’s delightful stream.
I see, I see the car designed
By Brahmá’s own creative mind,
The car which, radiant as the moon,
Moves at the will by Brahmá’s boon;
The car which once was Rávan’s pride,
The victor’s spoil when Rávan died.
Look, there are Raghu’s sons: between
The brothers stands the rescued queen.
There is Vibhishaṇ full in view,
Sugríva and his retinue.”
He ceased: then rapture loosed each tongue:
From men and dames, from old and young,
One long, one universal cry,
’Tis he, ’tis Ráma, smote the sky.
All lighted down with eager speed
From elephant and car and steed,
And every joyful eye intent
On Ráma’s moonbright face was bent.
Entranced a moment Bharat gazed:
Then reverential hands he raised,
And on his brother humbly pressed
The honours due to welcome guest.
Then Bharat clomb the car to greet
His king and bowed him at his feet,
Till Ráma raised him face to face
And held him in a close embrace.
Then Lakshmaṇ and the Maithil dame
He greeted as he spoke his name(1026)
He greeted next, supreme in place,
The sovereign of the Vánar race,
And Jámbaván and Báli’s son,
And lords and chiefs, omitting none.(1027)
Sugríva to his heart he pressed
And thus with grateful words addressed:
“Four brothers, Vánar king, were we,
And now we boast a fifth in thee.
By kindly acts a friend we know:
Offence and wrong proclaim the foe.”
To King Vibhishaṇ then he spake:
“Well hast thou fought for Ráma’s sake.”
Nor was the brave Śatrughna slow
His reverential love to show
To both his brothers, as was meet,
And venerate the lady’s feet.
Then Ráma to his mother came,
Saw her pale cheek and wasted frame,
With gentle words her heart consoled,
And clasped her feet with loving hold.
Then at Sumitrá’s feet he bent,
And fair Kaikeyí’s, reverent,
Greeted each dame from chief to least,
And bowed him to the household priest.
Up rose a shout from all the throng:
“O welcome, Ráma, mourned so long.
Welcome, Kausalyá’s joy and pride,”
Ten hundred thousand voices cried.
Then Bharat placed, in duty taught,
On Ráma’s feet the shoes he brought:
“My King,” he cried, “receive again
The pledge preserved through years of pain,
The rule and lordship of the land
Entrusted to my weaker hand.
No more I sigh o’er sorrows past,
My birth and life are blest at last
In the glad sight this day has shown,
When Ráma comes to rule his own.”
He ceased: the faithful love that moved
The prince’s soul each heart approved;
Nor could the Vánar chiefs refrain
From tender tears that fell like rain.
Then Ráma, stirred with joy anew,
His arms about his brother threw,
And to the grove his course he bent
Where Bharat’s hermit days were spent.
Alighting in that pure retreat
He pressed the earth with eager feet.
Then, at his hest, the car rose high
And sailing through the northern sky
Sped homeward to the Lord of Gold
Who owned the wondrous prize of old.(1028)
Canto CXXX. The Consecration.
Then, reverent hand to hand applied,
Thus Bharat to his brother cried:
“Thy realm, O King, is now restored,
Uninjured to the rightful lord.
This feeble arm with toil and pain,
The weighty charge could scarce sustain.
And the great burthen wellnigh broke
The neck untrained to bear the yoke.
The royal swan outspeeds the crow:
The steed is swift, the mule is slow,
Nor can my feeble feet be led
O’er the rough ways where thine should tread.
Now grant what all thy subjects ask:
Begin, O King, thy royal task.
Now let our longing eyes behold
The glorious rite ordained of old,
And on the new-found monarch’s head
Let consecrating drops be shed.”
He ceased; victorious Ráma bent
His head in token of assent.
He sat, and tonsors trimmed with care
His tangles of neglected hair
Then, duly bathed, the hero shone
With all his splendid raiment on.
And Sítá with the matrons’ aid
Her limbs in shining robes arrayed,
Sumantra then, the charioteer,
Drew, ordered by Śatrughna near,
And stayed within the hermit grove
The chariot and the steeds he drove.
Therein Sugríva’s consorts, graced
With gems, and Ráma’s queen were placed,
All fain Ayodhyá to behold:
And swift away the chariot rolled.
Like Indra Lord of Thousand Eyes,
Drawn by fleet lions through the skies.
Thus radiant in his glory showed
King Ráma as he homeward rode,
In power and might unparalleled.
The reins the hand of Bharat held.
Above the peerless victor’s head
The snow-white shade Śatrughna spread,
And Lakshmaṇ’s ever-ready hand
His forehead with a chourie fanned.
Vibhishaṇ close to Lakshmaṇ’s side
Sharing his task a chourie plied.
Sugríva on Śatrunjay came,
An elephant of hugest frame:
Nine thousand others bore, behind,
The chieftains of the Vánar kind
All gay, in forms of human mould,
With rich attire and gems and gold.
Thus borne along in royal state
King Ráma reached Ayodbyá’s gate
With merry noise of shells and drums
And joyful shouts, He comes, he comes,
A Bráhman host with solemn tread,
And kine the long procession led,
And happy maids in ordered bands
Threw grain and gold with liberal hands.
Neath gorgeous flags that waved in rows
On towers and roofs and porticoes.
Mid merry crowds who sang and cheered
The palace of the king they neared.
Then Raghu’s son to Bharat, best
Of duty’s slaves, these words addressed:
“Pass onward to the monarch’s hall.
The high-souled Vánars with thee call,
And let the chieftains, as is meet,
The widows of our father greet.
And to the Vánar king assign
Those chambers, best of all, which shine
With lazulite and pearl inlaid,
And pleasant grounds with flowers and shade.”
He ceased: and Bharat bent his head;
Sugríva by the hand he led
And passed within the palace where
Stood couches which Śatrughna’s care,
With robes and hangings richly dyed,
And burning lamps, had seen supplied.
Then Bharat spake: “I pray thee, friend,
Thy speedy messengers to send,
Each sacred requisite to bring
That we may consecrate our king.”
Sugríva raised four urns of gold,
The water for the rite to hold,
And bade four swiftest Vánars flee
And fill them from each distant sea.
Then east and west and south and north
The Vánar envoys hastened forth.
Each in swift flight an ocean sought
And back through air his treasure brought,
And full five hundred floods beside
Pure water for the king supplied.
Then girt by many a Bráhman sage,
Vaśishṭha, chief for reverend age,
High on a throne with jewels graced
King Ráma and his Sítá placed.
There by Jábáli, far revered,
Vijay and Kaśyap’s son appeared;
By Gautam’s side Kátváyan stood,
And Vámadeva wise and good,
Whose holy hands in order shed
The pure sweet drops on Ráma’s head.
Then priests and maids and warriors, all
Approaching at Vaśishṭha’s call,
With sacred drops bedewed their king,
The centre of a joyous ring,
The guardians of the worlds, on high,
And all the children of the sky
From herbs wherewith their hands were filled
Rare juices on his brow distilled.
His brows were bound with glistering gold
Which Manu’s self had worn of old,
Bright with the flash of many a gem
His sire’s ancestral diadem.
Śatrughna lent his willing aid
And o’er him held the regal shade:
The monarchs whom his arm had saved
The chouries round his forehead waved.
A golden chain, that flashed and glowed
With gems the God of Wind bestowed:
Mahendra gave a glorious string
Of fairest pearls to deck the king,
The skies with acclamation rang,
The gay nymphs danced, the minstrels sang.
On that blest day the joyful plain
Was clothed anew with golden grain.
The trees the witching influence knew,
And bent with fruits of loveliest hue,
And Ráma’s consecration lent
New sweetness to each flowret’s scent.
The monarch, joy of Raghu’s line,
Gave largess to the Bráhmans, kine
And steeds unnumbered, wealth untold
Of robes and pearls and gems and gold.
A jewelled chain, whose lustre passed
The glory of the sun, he cast
About his friend Sugríva’s neck;
And, Angad Báli’s son to deck,
He gave a pair of armlets bright
With diamond and lazulite.
A string of pearls of matchless hue
Which gleams like tender moonlight threw
Adorned with gems of brightest sheen,
He gave to grace his darling queen.
The offering from his hand received
A moment on her bosom heaved;
Then from her neck the chain she drew,
A glance on all the Vánars threw,
And wistful eyes on Ráma bent
As still she held the ornament.
Her wish he knew, and made reply
To that mute question of her eye:
“Yea, love; the chain on him bestow
Whose wisdom truth and might we know,
The firm ally, the faithful friend
Through toil and peril to the end.”
Then on Hanúmán’s bosom hung
The chain which Sítá’s hand had flung:
So may a cloud, when winds are still
With moon-lit silver gird a hill.
To every Vánar Ráma gave
Rich treasures from the mine and wave.
And with their honours well content
Homeward their steps the chieftains bent.
Ten thousand years Ayodhyá, blest
With Ráma’s rule, had peace and rest,
No widow mourned her murdered mate,
No house was ever desolate.
The happy land no murrain knew,
The flocks and herds increased and grew.
The earth her kindly fruits supplied,
No harvest failed, no children died.
Unknown were want, disease, and crime:
So calm, so happy was the time.(1029)
APPENDIX.
Section XIII. Rávan Doomed.
Afterwards Rishyaśring said again to the King “I will perform another
sacrificial act to secure thee a son.” Then the son of Vibháṇdak, of
subdued passions, seeking the happiness of the king, proceeded to perform
the sacrifice for the accomplishment of his wishes. Hither were previously
collected the gods, with the Gandharvas, the Siddhas and the sages, for
the sake of receiving their respective shares, Brahmá too, the sovereign
of the gods, with Stháṇu, and Náráyaṇa, chief of beings and the four
supporters of the universe, and the divine mothers of all the celestials,
met together there. To the Aśvamedha, the great sacrifice of the
magnanimous monarch, came also Indra the glorious one, surrounded by the
Maruts. Rishyaśring then supplicated the gods assembled for their share of
the sacrifice (saying), “This devout king Daśaratha, who, through the
desire of offspring, confiding in you, has performed sacred austerities,
and who has offered to you the sacrifice called Aśvamedha, is about to
perform another sacrifice for the sake of obtaining sons: To him thus
desirous of offspring be pleased to grant the blessing: I supplicate you
all with joined hands. May he have four sons, renowned through the
universe.” The gods replied to the sage’s son supplicating with joined
hands, “Be it so: thou, O Bráhman, art ever to be regarded by us, as the
king is in a peculiar manner. The lord of men by this sacrifice shall
obtain the great object of his desires.” Having thus said, the gods
preceded by Indra, disappeared.
They all then having seen that (sacrifice) performed by the great sage
according to the ordinance went to Prajápati the lord of mankind, and with
joined hands addressed Brahmá the giver of blessings, “O Brahmá, the
Ráksha Rávaṇa by name, to whom a blessing was awarded by thee, through
pride troubleth all of us the gods, and even the great sages, who
perpetually practise sacred austerities. We, O glorious one, regarding the
promise formerly granted by thy kindness that he should be invulnerable to
the gods, the Dánavas and the Yakshas have born (_sic_) all, (his
oppression); this lord of Rákshas therefore distresses the universe; and,
inflated by this promise unjustly vexes the divine sages, the Yakshas, and
Gandharvas, the Asuras, and men: where Rávaṇa remains there the sun loses
his force, the winds through fear of him do not blow; the fire ceases to
burn; the rolling ocean, seeing him, ceases to move its waves. Viśravas,
distressed by his power, has abandoned Lanká and fled. O divine one save
us from Rávaṇa, who fills the world with noise and tumult. O giver of
desired things, be pleased to contrive a way for his destruction.”
Brahmá thus informed by the devas, reflecting, replied, “Oh! I have
devised the method for slaying this outrageous tyrant. Upon his
requesting, ‘May I be invulnerable to the divine sages, the Gaundharvas,
the Yakshas, the Rákshasas and the serpents,’ I replied ‘Be it so.’ This
Ráksha, through contempt, said nothing respecting man; therefore this
wicked one shall be destroyed by man.” The gods, preceded by Śakra,
hearing these words spoken by Brahmá, were filled with joy.
At this time Vishṇu the glorious, the lord of the world, arrayed in
yellow, with hand ornaments of glowing gold, riding on Vinateya, as the
sun on a cloud, arrived with his conch, his discus, and his club in his
hand. Being adored by the excellent celestials, and welcomed by Brahmá, he
drew near and stood before him. All the gods then addressed Vishṇu, “O
Madhusudana, thou art able to abolish the distress of the distressed. We
intreat thee, be our sanctuary, O Vishṇu.” Vishṇu replied, “Say, what
shall I do?” The celestials hearing these his words added further. “The
virtuous, the encourager of excellence, eminent for truth, the firm
observer of his vows, being childless, is performing an Aśvamedha for the
purpose of obtaining offspring. For the sake of the good of the universe,
we intreat thee, O Vishṇu, to become his son. Dividing thyself into four
parts, in the wombs of his three consorts equal to Hari, Śrí, and Kirti,
assume the sonship of king Daśaratha, the lord of Ayodhyá, eminent in the
knowledge of duty, generous and illustrious, as the great sages. Thus
becoming man, O Vishṇu, conquer in battle Rávaṇa, the terror of the
universe, who is invulnerable to the gods. This ignorant Rákshasa Rávaṇa,
by the exertion of his power, afflicts the gods, the Gandharvaa, the
Siddhas, and the most excellent sages; these sages, the Gandharvas, and
the Apsaras, sporting in the forest Nandana have been destroyed by that
furious one. We, with the sages, are come to thee seeking his destruction.
The Siddhas, the Gandharvas, and the Yakshas betake themselves to thee,
thou art our only refuge; O Deva, afflicter of enemies, regard the world
of men, and destroy the enemy of the gods.”
Vishṇu, the sovereign of the gods, the chief of the celestials, adored by
all beings, being thus supplicated, replied to all the assembled gods
(standing) before Brahmá, “Abandon fear; peace be with you; for your
benefit having killed Rávaṇa the cruel, destructively active, the cause of
fear to the divine sages, together with all his posterity, his courtiers
and counsellors, and his relations, and friends, protecting the earth, I
will remain incarnate among men for the space of eleven thousand years.”
Having given this promise to the gods, the divine Vishṇu, ardent in the
work, sought a birth-place among men. Dividing himself into four parts, he
whose eyes resemble the lotus and the pulasa, the lotus petal-eyed, chose
for his father Daśaratha the sovereign of men. The divine sages then with
the Gandharvas, the Rudras, and the (different sorts of) Apsaras, in the
most excellent strains, praised the destroyer of Madhu, (saying) “Root up
Rávaṇa, of fervid energy, the devastator, the enemy of Indra swollen with
pride. Destroy him, who causes universal lamentation, the annoyer of the
holy ascetics, terrible, the terror of the devout Tapaswis. Having
destroyed Rávaṇa, tremendously powerful, who causes universal weeping,
together with his army and friends, dismissing all sorrow, return to
heaven, the place free from stain and sin, and protected by the sovereign
of the celestial powers.”
Thus far the Section, containing the plan for the death of Rávaṇ.
CAREY AND MARSHMAN.
Caput XIV. RATIO NECANDI RAVANAE EXCOGITATA.
Prudens ille, voluminum sacrorum gnarus, responsum quod dederat aliquamdiu
meditatus, mente ad se revocata regem deuno est effatus: Parabo tibi aliud
sacrum, genitale, prolis masculae adipiscendae gratia, cum carminibus in
ATHARVANIS exordio expressis rite peragendum. Tum coepit modestus
Vibhândaci filius, regis commodis intentus, parare sacrum, quo eius
desiderium expleret. Iam’antea eo convenerant, ut suam quisque portionem
acciperent, Dî cum fidicinum coelestium choris, Beatique cum Sapientibus;
Brachman Superûm regnator, Sthânus nec non augustus Nârâyanus, Indrasque
almus, coram visendus Ventorum cohorte circumdatus, in magno isto
sacrificio equino regis magnanimi. Ibidem vates ille deos, qui portiones
suas accipiendi gratia advenerant, apprecatus, En inquit, hicce ex
Dasarathus filiorum desiderio castimoniis adstrictus, fidei plenus,
vestrum numen adoravit sacrificio equino. Nunc iterum accingit se ad aliud
sacrum peragendum: quamobrem aequum est, ut filios cupienti vos faveatis.
Ille ego, qui manus supplices tendo, vos universos pro eo apprecor:
nascantur ei filii quatuor, faina per triplicem mundum clari. Divi
supplicem vatis filium invicem affari: Fiat quod petis! Tu nobis,
virsancte, imprimis es venerandus, nee minus rex ille; compos fiet voti
sui egregii hominum princeps. Ita locuti Dî Indra duce, ex oculis
evanuerunt.
Superi vero, legitime in concilio congregati. BRACHMANEM mundi creatorem
his verbis compellarunt: Tuo munere auctus, O Brachman! gigas nomine
Râvanas, prae superbia nos omnes vexat, pariterque Sapientes castimoniis
gaudentes. A te propitio olim ex voto ei hoc munus concessum fuit, ut ne a
diis, Danuidis, Geniisve necari posset. Nos, oraculum tuum reveriti,
facinora eius qualiacunque toleramus. At ille gigantum tyrannus ternos
mundos gravibus iniuriis vexat Deos, Sapientes, Genios, Fidicines
coelestes, Titanes, mortales denique, exsuperat ille aegre cohibendus,
tuoque munere demens. Non ibi calet sol, neque Ventus prae timore spirat,
nee flagrat ignis, ubi Râvanas versatur. Ipse oceanus, vagis fluctibus
redimitus, isto viso stat immotus; eiectus fuit e sede sua Cuvêrus, huius
robore vexatus. Ergo ingens nobis periculum imminet ab hoc gigante visu
horribili; tuum est, alme Parens! auxilium parare, quo hic deleatur. Ita
admonitus ille a diis universis, paulisper meditatus, Ehem! inquit, hancce
inveni rationem nefarium istum necandi. Petierat is a me, ut a Gandharvis,
a Geniis, a Divis, Danuibus Gigantibusque necari non posset et me annuente
voto suo potitus est. Prae contemptu vero monstrum illud homines non
commemoravit: ideo ab homine est necandus: nullum aliud exstat leti genus,
quod ei sit fatale. Postquam audiverant gratum hunc sermonem BRACHMANIS
ore prolatum, Dî cum duce suo Indra summopere gaudio erecti sunt. Eodem
temporis momento Vishnus, istuc accessit, splendore insignis, concham,
discum et clavum manibus gestans, croceo vestitu, mundi dominus, vulturis
Vinateii dorso, sicuti sol nimbo, vectus, armillas ex auro candente
gerens, salutatus a Superûm primoribus. Quem laudibus celebratum
reverenter Dî universi compellarunt. Tu animantium afflictorum es vindex,
Madhûs interfector! quamobrem nos afflicti te apprecamur. Sis praesidio
nobis numine tuo inconcusso. Dicite, inquit Vishnus, quid pro vobis facere
me oporteat. Audito eius sermone, Dî hunc in modum respondent: Rex quidam,
nomine Dasarathus, austeris castimoniis sese castigavit, litavit
sacrificio equino, prolis cupidus et prole carens. Nostro hortatu tu,
Vishnus, conditionem natorum eius subeas: ex tribus eius uxoribus,
Pudicitiae, Venustatis et Famae similibus, nasci, velis, temetipsum
quadrifariam dividens. Ibi tu in humanam naturam conversus Râvanam,
gravissimam mundi pestem, diis insuperabilem, O Vishnus! proelio caede.
Gigas ille vecors Râvanas Deos cum Fidicinum choris, Beatos et Sapientes
praestantissimos vexat, audacia superbiens. Etenim ab hoc furioso
Sapientes Fidicines et nymphae, ludentes in Nandano viridario, sunt
proculcati. Tu es nostrum omnium summa salus, divine bellator! Ut deoram
hostes extinguas, ad sortem humanam animum converte. Augustus ille
Nârâyanus, diis hunc in modum coram hortantibus, eosdem apto hoc sermone
compellavit: Quare, quaeso, hac in re negotium vestrum a me potissimum,
corporea specie palam facto, est peragendum aut unde tantus vobis terror
fuit iniectus? His verbis a Vishnû interrogati Dî talia proferre: Terror
nobis instat, O Vishnus! a Râvana mundi direptore; a quo nos vindicare,
corpore humano assumpto, tuum est. Nemo alius coelicoiarum praeter te hunc
scelestum enecare potis est. Nimirum ille, O hostium domitor! per
diuturnum tempus sese excruciaverat severissima abstinentia, qua magnus
hicce rerum Parens propitius ipsi redditus est. Itaque almus votorum
sponsor olim ei concessit securitatem ab ommibus animantibus, hominibus
tamen exceptis. Hinc ilium, voti compotem, non aliunde quam ab homine
necis periculum urget: tu ergo, humanitate assumpta eum intertice. Sic
monitus Vishnus, Superûm princeps, quem mundus universus adorat, magnum
Parentem oeterosque deos, in concilio congregatos, recti auctores,
affatur: Mittite timorem; bene bobis eveniat! Vestrae salutis gratia,
postquam praelio necavero Râvanam cum filiis nepotibusque, cum amicis,
ministris, cognatis sociisque, crudelem istum aegre cohibendum, qui
divinis Sapientibus terrorem meutit, per decem millia annorum decies
centenis additis, commorabor in mortalium sedibus, orbem terrarum imperio
regens. Tum divini sapientes et Fidicines conjuncti cum Rudris
nympharumque choris celebravere Madhûs interfectorem hymnis, quales sedem
aetheriam decent.
“Râvanam ilium insolentem, acri impetu actum, superbia elatum, Superûm
hostem, tumultus cientem, bonorum piorumque pestem, humanitate assumpta
pessamdare tuum est.”
SCHLEGEL.
Caput XIV. IL MEZZO STABILITO PER UCCIDERE RÁVANO.
Ma Riseyasringo soggiunse poscia al re: Tappresterò io un altro rito
santissimo, genitale, onde tu conseguisca la prole che tu bramí. E in quel
punto stesso il saggio figliulo di Vibhândaco, intento alla prosperità del
re, pose mano al sacro rito per condurre ad effetto il suo desiderio. Già
erano prima, per ricevere ciascuno la sua parte, qui convenuti al gran
sacrifizio del re magnanimo l’Asvamedha, i Devi coi Gandharvi, i Siddhi e
i Muni, Brahma Signor dei Sari, Sthânu e l’ Augusto Nârâyana, i quattio
custodi dell’ universo e le Madri degli Iddu, i Yacsi insieme cogli Dei, e
il sovrano, venerando Indra, visibile, circondato dalla schiera dei
Maruti. Quivi così parlò Riscyasringo agli Dei venuti a partecipare del
sacrifizio: Questo è il re Dasaratha, che per desiderio di progenie già s’
astrinse ad osservanze austeré, e testè pieno di fede ha a voi, O eccelsi,
sacrificato con un Asvamedha. Ora egli, sollecito d’ aver figli, si
dispone ad adempiere un nuovo rito; vogliate essere favorevole a lui che
sospira progenie. Io alzo a voi supplici le mani, e voi tutti per lui
imploro: nascano a lui quattro figli degni d’essere celebrati pei tre
mondi. Risposero gli Dei al supplichevole figliuolo del Risci: Sia fatto
ciò che chiedi; a te ed al re parimente si debbe da noi, O Brahmano, sommo
pregio; canseguirà il re per questo sacro rito il suo suppremo desiderio.
Ciò detto disparvero i Numi preceduti da Indra.
Poichè videro gli Dei compiersi debitamente dal gran Risci l’oblazione,
venuti al cospetto di Brahma facitor del mondo, signor delle creature,
così parlarono reverenti a lui dator di grazie: O Brahma, un Racsaso per
nome Râvano, eui tu fosti largo del tuo favore, è per superbia infesto a
noi tutti e ai grandi Saggi penitenti. Un di, O Nume, augusto, tu propizio
a lui gli accordasti il favore, ch’ egli bramava, di non poter essere
ucciso dagli Dei, dai Dânavi nè dai Yacsi: noi venerando i tuoi oracoli,
ogni cosa sopportiamo da costui. Quindi il signor dei Racsasi infesta con
perpetue offese i tre mondi, i Devi, i Risci, i Yacsi ed i Gandharvi, gli
Asuri e gli uomini: tutti egli opprime indegnamente inorgoglito pel tuo
dono. Colà dove si trova Râvano, più non isfavilla per timore il sole, più
non spira il vento, più non fiammeggia il fuoco: l’ oceano stesso cui fan
corona i vasti flutti, veggendo costui, tutto si turba e si commuove.
Stretto dalla forza di costui e ridotto allo stremo dovette Vaisravano
abbandonare Lancâ. Da questo Râvano, terror del mondo, tu ne proteggi, O
almo Nume: degna, O dator d’ogni bene, trovar modo ad estirpar costui.
Fatto di queste cose conscio dai Devi, stette alquanto meditando, poi
rispose Brahma: Orsù! è stabilito il modo onde distruggere questo iniquo.
Egli a me chiese, ed io gliel concessi, di non poter essere ucciso dai
Devi, dai Risci, dai Gandharvi, dai Yacsi, dai Racsasi nè dai Serpenti; ma
per disprezzo non fece menzione degli uomini quel Racso: or bene, sarà
quell’ empio ucciso da un uomo. Udite le fauste parole profferte da
Brahma, furono per ogni parte liete gli Iddii col loro duce Indra. In
questo mezzo quì sopravvenne raggiante d’immensa luce il venerando Visnu,
pensato da Brahma nell’ immortal sua mente, siccome atto ad estirpar
colui; Allora Brahma colla schiera de’ Celesti così parlò a Visnu: Tu sei
il conforto delle gente oppresse, O distruttor di Madhu: noi quindi a te
supplichiamo afflitti: sia tu nostro sostegno, O Aciuto. Dite, loro
rispose Visnu, quale cosa io debba far per voi; e gli Dei, udite queste
parole, cosi soggiunsero: Un re per nome Dasaratha, giusto, virtuoso,
veridico e pio, non ha progenie e la desidera: ei già s’ impose durissime
penitenze, ed ora ha sacrificato con un Asvamedha: tu, per nostro
consiglio, O Visnu, consenti a divenir suo figlio: fatte di te quattro
parti, ti manifesta, O invocato dalle genti, nel seno delle quattro sue
consorti, simili alla venusta Dea. Così esortato dagli Dei quivi presenti,
l’augusto Nârâyana loro rispose queste opportune parole: Quale opra s’ha
da me, fatto visible nel mondo, a compiere per voi, O Devi? e d’onde in
voi cotal terrore? Intese le parole di Visnu, così risposero gli Dei: Il
nostro terrore. O Visnu, nasce da un Racsaso per nome Râvano, spavento
dell’ universo. Vestendo umano corpo, tu debbi esterminar costui. Nessuno
fra i Celesti, fuorchè tu solo, è valevole ad uccidere quell’ iniquo.
Egli, O domator de’ tuoi nemici, sostenne per lungo tempo acerbissime
macerazioni: per esse fu di lui contento l’augusto sommo Genitore: e un di
gli accordò propizio la sicurezza da tutti gli esseri, eccettutine gli
uomini. Per questo favore a lui concesso nou ha egli a temere offesa da
alcuna parte, fuorchè dall’ uomo, perciò, assumendo la natura umana,
costui tu uccidi. Egli, il peggior di tutti i Racsasi, insano per la forza
che gli infonde il dono avuto, da travaglio ai Devi ed ai Gaudharvi, ai
Risci, ai Muni ed ai mortali. Egli, sicuro da morte pel favore ottenuto, è
turbatore dei sacrifizj, nemico ed uccisor dei Brahmi, divoratore degli
uomini, peste del mondo. Da lui furono assaliti re coi loro carri ed
elefanti; altri percessi e fugati si dispersero per ogni dove. Da lui
furono divorati Risci ed Apsarase: egli insomma oltracotato continuamente
e quasi per ischerzo tutti travaglia i sette mondi. Perciò, O terribile ai
nemici è stabilita la morte di costui per opra d’un uomo; poich’ un di per
superbia del dono tutti sprezzò gli uomini. Tu, O supremo fra i Numi, dei,
umanandoti, estirpare questo tremendo, superbo Ràvano, oltracotato, a noi
nemico, terrore e flagello dei penitenti.
GORRESIO.
XIV.
De nouveau Rishyaçringa tint ce langage au Monarque: “Je vais célébrer un
autre sacrifice, afin que le ciel accorde à tes vœux les enfants que tu
souhaites.” Cela dit, cherchant le bonheur du roi et pour
l’accomplissement de son désir, le fils puissant de Vibhándaka se mit à
célébrer ce nouveau sacrifice.
Là auparavant, étaient venus déjà recevoir une part de l’ offrande les
Dieux, accompagnés des Gaudharvas, et les Siddhas avec les Mounis divins,
Brahma, le monarque des Souras, l’ immuable Śiva, et l’ auguste Náráyana,
et les quatre gardiens vigilants du monde, et les mères des Immortels, et
tous les Dieux, escortés des Yakshas, et le maître éminent du ciel, Indra,
qui se manifestait aux yeux, environné par l’ essaim des Maroutes. Alors
ce jeune anachorète avait supplié tous les Dieux, que le désir d’une part
dans l’ offrande avait conduits á l’ açwamédha, cette grande cérémonie de
ce roi magnanime; _et, dans ce moment, l’ époux de Śántá les conjurait
ainsi pour la seconde fois_: “Cet homme _en prières_, c’est le roi
Daçaratha, qui est privé de fils. Il est rempli d’ une foi vive; il s’est
infligé de pénibles austérités; il vous a déjà servi, divinités augustes,
le sacrifice d’un açwa-médha, et maintenant il s’étudie encore à vous
plaire avec ce nouveau sacrifice dans l’espérance que vous lui donnerez
les fils, où tendent ses désirs. Versez donc sur lui votre bienveillance
et daignez sourire à son vœu pour des fils. C’est pour lui que moi ici,
les mains jointes, je vous adresse à tous mes supplications: envoyez-lui
quatre fils, qui soient vantés dans les trois mondes!”
“Ouí! répondirent les Dieux au fils suppliant du rishi; tu mérites que
nous t’écoutions avec faveur, toi, brahme saint, et même, en premier lieu,
ce roi. Comme récompense de ces différents sacrifices, le monarque
obtendra cet objet le plus cher de ses désirs.”
Ayant aussi parlé et vu que le grand saint avait mis fin suivant les rites
à son _pieux_ sacrifice, les Dieux, Indra à leur tête, s’évanouissent dans
le vide des airs et se rendent vers l’ architecte des mondes, le souverain
des créatures, le donateur des biens, vers Brahma enfin, auquel tous, les
mains jointes, ils adressent les paroles suivantes: “O Brahma, un
rakshasa, nommé Râvana, tourne su mal les grâces, qu’il a reçues de toi.
Dans son orgueil, il nous opprime tous; il opprime avec nous les grands
anchorètes, qui se font un bonheur des macérations: car jadis, ayant su te
plaire, O Bhagavat, il a reçu de toi ce don incomparable. ‘Oui, as-tu dit,
exauçant le vœu du mauvais Génie; Dieu. Yaksha ou Démon ne pourra jamais
causer ta mort!’ Et nous, par qui ta parole est respectée, nous avons tout
supporté de ce roi des rakshasas, qui écrase de sa tyrannie les trois
mondes, ou il promène l’ injure impunément. Enorgueilli de ce don
victorieux, il opprime indignement les Dieux, les rishis, les Yakshas, les
Gandharvas, les Asouras et les enfants de Manou. Là ou se tient Râvana, la
peur empêche le soleil d’échauffer, le vent craint de souffler, et le feu
n’ose flamboyer. A son aspect, la guirlande même des grands flots tremble
au sein de la mer. Accablé par sa vigueur indomptable, Kouvéra défait lui
a cédé Lanká. Suave-nous donc, ô toi, qui reposes daus le bonheur absolu;
sauve-nous de Râvana, le fléau des mondes. Daigne, ô toi, qui souris aux
vœux du suppliant, daigne imaginer un expedient pour ôter la vie à ce
cruel Démon.” Les Dieux ayant ainsi dénoncé leurs maux à Brahma, il
réfléchit un instant et leur tint ce langage: “Bien, voici que j’ai
découvert un moyen pour tuer ce Génie scélérat. Que ni les Dieux, a-t-il
dit, ni les rishis, ni les Gandharvas ni les Yakshas, ni les rakshasas, ni
les Nágas même ne puissent me donner la mort! Soit lui ai-je répondu.
Mais, par dédain pour la force humaine, les hommes n’ont pas été compris
daus sa demande. C’est donc par la main d’ un homme, qu’il faut immoler ce
méchant.” Ainsi tombée de la bouche du créateur, cette parole salutaire
satisfit pleinement le roi des habitants du ciel et tous les Dieux avec
lui. Lá, dans ce même instant, survint le fortuné Visnou, revêtu d’ une
splendeur infinie; car c’était a lui, que Brahma avait pensé dans son âme
pour la mort du tyran. Celui-ci donc avec l’essaim des Immortels adresse à
Vishnou ces paroles: “Meurtrier de Madhou, comme tu aimes á tirer de
l’affliction les êtres malheureux, nous te supplions, nous qui sommes
plongés dans la tristesse, Divinité auguste, sois notre asyle!” “Dites!
reprit Vishnou; que dois-je faire?” “Ayant oui les paroles de l’ineffable,
tous les Dieux repondirent: Il est un roi nommé Daçaratha; il a embrassé
une très-duré pénitence; il a célébré même le sacrifice d’un açwa-medha,
parce qu’il n’a point de fils et qu’il veut en obtenir du ciel. Il est
inébranlable dans sa piété, il est vanté pour ses vertus; la justice est
son caractère, la verite est sa parole. Acquiesce donc à notre demande, ô
toi, Vishnou, et consens à naître comme son fils. Divisé en quatre
portions de toi-même, daigne, ô toi, qui foules aux pieds tes ennemis,
daigne t’ incarner dans le sein de ses trois épouses, belles comme la
déesse de la beauté.” Náráyana, le maître, _non perceptible aux sens, mais
qui alors s’ était rendu_ visible, Náráyana répondit cette parole
salutaire aux Dieux, qui i invitaient à cet _heroique avatára_. Quelle
chose, une fois revêtu de cette incarnation, faudra-t-il encore que je
fasse pour vous, et de quelle part vient la terreur, qui vous trouble
ainsi? A ces mots du grand Vishnou: “C’est le démon Rávana, reprirent les
Dieux; c’est lui, Vishnou, cette désolation des mondes, qui nous inspire
un tel effroi. Enveloppe-toi d’un corps, humain, et qu’il te plaise
arrâcher du monde cette blessante epine; car nul autre que toi parmi les
habitants du ciel n’est capable d’immoler ce pécheur. _Sache que_
longtemps il s’est imposé la plus austére pénitence, et _que_ par elle il
s’est rendu agreable au suprême ayeul de toutes les créatures. Aussi le
distributeur ineffable des gràces lui a-t-il accordé ce don insigne d’être
invulnérable à tous les êtres, l’ homme seul excepté. Puisque, doué ainsi
de cette faveur, la mort terrible et sûre ne peut venir à lui de nulle
autre part que de l’homme, va, dompteur _puissant_ de tes ennemis, va dans
la condition humaine, et tue-le. Car ce don, auquel on ne peut résister,
élevant au plus haut point l’ivresse de sa force, le vil rakshasa
tourmente les Dieux, les rishis, les Gandharvas, les hommes sanctifiés par
la pénitence; et, quoique, destructeur des sacrifices, lacérateur des
Saintes Ecritures, ennemi des brahmes, dévorateur des hommes, cette faveur
incomparable sauve de la mort Rávana le triste fléau des mondes. Il ose
attaquer les rois, que défendant les chars de guerre, que remparent les
élephants: d’autres blessés et mis en fuite, sont dissipés ça et là devant
lui. Il a dévoré des saints, il a dévoré même une foule d’apsaras. Sans
cesse, dans son délire, il s’amuse à tourmenter les sept mondes. Comme _on
vient de nous apprendre qu’_ il n’a point daigné parler d’eux ce jour, que
lui fut donnée cette faveur, _dont il abuse_, entre dans un corps humain,
ô toi, qui peux briser tes ennemis, et jette sans vie à tes pieds, roi
puissant des treize Dieux, ce Rávana superbe, d’une force épouvantable,
d’un orgueil immense, l’ennemi de tous les ascètes, ce ver, _qui les
ronge_, cette cause de leurs gémissements.”
_Ici, dans le premier tome du saint Râmâyana_, Finit le quatorzième
chapitre, nommé: UN EXPÉDIENT POUR TUER RÁVANA.
HIPPOLYTE FAUCHE.
Uttarakánda.
The Rámáyan ends, epically complete, with the triumphant return of Ráma
and his rescued queen to Ayodhyá and his consecration and coronation in
the capital of his forefathers. Even if the story were not complete, the
conclusion of the last Canto of the sixth Book, evidently the work of a
later hand than Válmíki’s, which speaks of Ráma’s glorious and happy reign
and promises blessings to those who read and hear the Rámáyan, would be
sufficient to show that, when these verses were added, the poem was
considered to be finished. The Uttarakáṇḍa or Last Book is merely an
appendix or a supplement and relates only events antecedent and subsequent
to those described in the original poem. Indian scholars however, led by
reverential love of tradition, unanimously ascribe this Last Book to
Válmíki, and regard it as part of the Rámáyan.
Signor Gorresio has published an excellent translation of the Uttarakáṇḍa,
in Italian prose, from the recension current in Bengal;(1030) and Mr. Muir
has epitomized a portion of the book in the Appendix to the Fourth Part of
his Sanskrit Texts (1862). From these scholars I borrow freely in the
following pages, and give them my hearty thanks for saving me much
wearisome labour.
“After Ráma had returned to Ayodhyá and taken possession of the throne,
the rishis [saints] assembled to greet him, and Agastya, in answer to his
questions recounted many particulars regarding his old enemies. In the
Krita Yuga (or Golden Age) the austere and pious Brahman rishi Pulastya, a
son of Brahmá, being teased with the visits of different damsels,
proclaimed that any one of them whom he again saw near his hermitage
should become pregnant. This had not been heard by the daughter of the
royal rishi Triṇavindu, who one day came into Pulastya’s neighbourhood,
and her pregnancy was the result (Sect. 2, vv. 14 ff.). After her return
home, her father, seeing her condition, took her to Pulastya, who accepted
her as his wife, and she bore a son who received the name of Viśravas.
This son was, like his father, an austere and religious sage. He married
the daughter of the muni Bharadvája, who bore him a son to whom Brahmá
gave the name of Vaiśravaṇ-Kuvera (Sect. 3, vv. 1 ff.). He performed
austerities for thousands of years, when he obtained from Brahmá as a boon
that he should be one of the guardians of the world (along with Indra,
Varuṇa, and Yáma) and the god of riches. He afterwards consulted his
father Viśravas about an abode, and at his suggestion took possession of
the city of Lanká, which had formerly been built by Viśvakarmán for the
Rákshasas, but had been abandoned by them through fear of Vishṇu, and was
at that time unoccupied. Ráma then (Sect. 4) says he is surprised to hear
that Lanká had formerly belonged to the Rákshasas, as he had always
understood that they were the descendants of Pulastya, and now he learns
that they had also another origin. He therefore asks who was their
ancestor, and what fault they had committed that they were chased away by
Vishṇu. Agastya replies that when Brahmá created the waters, he formed
certain beings,—some of whom received the name of Rákshasas,—to guard
them. The first Rákshasas kings were Heti and Praheti. Heti married a
sister of Kála (Time). She bore him a son Vidyutkeśa, who in his turn took
for his wife Lankatanka[t.]á, the daughter of Sandhyá (V. 21). She bore
him a son Sukeśa, whom she abandoned, but he was seen by Śiva as he was
passing by with his wife Párvatí, who made the child as old as his mother,
and immortal, and gave him a celestial city. Sukeśa married a Gandharví
called Devavatí who bore three sons, Mályavat, Sumáli and Máli. These sons
practised intense austerities, when Brahmá appeared and conferred on them
invincibility and long life. They then harassed the gods. Viśvakarmá gave
them a city, Lanká, on the mountain Trikúṭa, on the shore of the southern
ocean, which he had built at the command of Indra.… The three Rákshasa,
Mályavat and his two brothers, then began to oppress the gods, rishis,
etc.; who (Sect. 6, v. 1 ff.) in consequence resort for aid to Mahádeva,
who having regard to his protégé Sukeśa the father of Mályavat, says that
he cannot kill the Rákshasas, but advises the suppliants to go to Vishṇu,
which they do, and receive from him a promise that he will destroy their
enemies. The three Rákshasa kings, hearing of this, consult together, and
proceed to heaven to attack the gods. Vishṇu prepares to meet them. The
battle is described in the seventh section. The Rákshasas are defeated by
Vishṇu with great slaughter, and driven back to Lanká, one of their
leaders, Máli, being slain. Mályavat remonstrates with Vishṇu, who was
assaulting the rear of the fugitives, for his unwarrior-like conduct, and
wishes to renew the combat (Sect. 8, v. 3 ff.). Vishṇu replies that he
must fulfil his promise to the gods by slaying the Rákshasas, and that he
would destroy them even if they fled to Pátála. These Rákshasas, Agastya
says, were more powerful than Rávaṇa, and, could only be destroyed by
Náráyaṇa, _i.e._ by Ráma himself, the eternal, indestructible god. Sumáli
with his family lived for along time in Pátála, while Kuvera dwelt in
Lanká. In section 9 it is related that Sumáli once happened to visit the
earth, when he observed Kuvera going in his chariot to see his father
Viśravas. This leads him to consider how he might restore his own
fortunes. He consequently desires his daughter Kaikasí to go and woo
Viśravas, who receives her graciously. She becomes the mother of the
dreadful Rávaṇa, of the huge Kumbhakarṇa, of Śúrpaṇakhá, and of the
righteous Vibhishaṇa, who was the last son. These children grow up in the
forest. Kumbhakarṇa goes about eating rishis. Kuvera comes to visit his
father, when Kaikasí takes occasion to urge her son Rávaṇa to strive to
become like his brother (Kuvera) in splendour. This Rávaṇa promises to do.
He then goes to the hermitage of Gokarna with his brothers to perform
austerity. In section 10 their austere observances are described: after a
thousand years’ penance Rávaṇa throws his head into the fire. He repeats
this oblation nine times after equal intervals, and is about to do it the
tenth time, when Brahmá appears, and offers a boon. Rávaṇa asks
immortality, but is refused. He then asks that he may be indestructible by
all creatures more powerful than men; which boon is accorded by Brahmá
together with the recovery of all the heads he had sacrificed and the
power of assuming any shape he pleased. Vibhishaṇa asks as his boon that
even amid the greatest calamities he may think only of righteousness, and
that the weapon of Brahmá may appear to him unlearnt, etc. The god grants
his request, and adds the gift of immortality. When Brahmá is about to
offer a boon to Kumbhakarṇa, the gods interpose, as, they say, he had
eaten seven Apsarases and ten followers of Indra, besides rishis and men;
and beg that under the guise of a boon stupefaction may be inflicted on
him. Brahmá thinks on Sarasvatí, who arrives and, by Brahmá’s command,
enters into Kumbhakarṇa’s mouth that she may speak for him. Under this
influence he asks that he may receive the boon of sleeping for many years,
which is granted. When however Sarasvatí has left him, and he recovers his
own consciousness, he perceives that he has been deluded. Kuvera by his
father’s advice, gives up the city of Lanká to Rávaṇ.”(1031) Rávaṇa
marries (Sect. 12) Mandodarí the beautiful daughter of the Asur Maya whose
name has several times occurred in the Rámáyan as that of an artist of
wonderful skill. She bears a son Meghanáda or the Roaring Cloud who was
afterwards named Indrajít from his victory over the sovereign of the
skies. The conquest of Kuvera, and the acquisition of the magic
self-moving chariot which has done much service in the Rámáyan, form the
subject of sections XIII., XIV. and XV. “The rather pretty story of
Vedavatí is related in the seventeenth section, as follows: Rávaṇa in the
course of his progress through the world, comes to the forest on the
Himálaya, where he sees a damsel of brilliant beauty, but in ascetic garb,
of whom he straightway becomes enamoured. He tells her that such an
austere life is unsuited to her youth and attractions, and asks who she is
and why she is leading an ascetic existence. She answers that she is
called Vedavatí, and is the vocal daughter of Vṛihaspati’s son, the rishi
Kuśadhwaja, sprung from him during his constant study of the Veda. The
gods, gandharvas, etc., she says, wished that she should choose a husband,
but her father would give her to no one else than to Vishṇu, the lord of
the world, whom he desired for his son-in-law. Vedavatí then proceeds: ‘In
order that I may fulfil this desire of my father in respect of Náráyaṇa, I
wed him with my heart. Having entered into this engagement I practise
great austerity. Náráyaṇa and no other than he, Purushottama, is my
husband. From the desire of obtaining him, I resort to this severe
observance.’ Rávaṇa’s passion is not in the least diminished by this
explanation and he urges that it is the old alone who should seek to
become distinguished by accumulating merit through austerity, prays that
she who is so young and beautiful shall become his bride; and boasts that
he is superior to Vishṇu. She rejoins that no one but he would thus
contemn that deity. On receiving this reply he touches the hair of her
head with the tip of his finger. She is greatly incensed, and forthwith
cuts off her hair and tells him that as he has so insulted her, she cannot
continue to live, but will enter into the fire before his eyes. She goes
on ‘Since I have been insulted in the forest by thee who art
wicked-hearted, I shall be born again for thy destruction. For a man of
evil desire cannot be slain by a woman; and the merit of my austerity
would be lost if I were to launch a curse against thee. But if I have
performed or bestowed or sacrificed aught may I be born the virtuous
daughter, not produced from the womb, of a righteous man.’ Having thus
spoken she entered the blazing fire. Then a shower of celestial flowers
fell (from every part of the sky). It is she, lord, who, having been
Vedavatí in the Krita age, has been born (in the Treta age) as the
daughter of the king of the Janakas, and (has become) thy [Ráma’s] bride;
for thou art the eternal Vishṇu. The mountain-like enemy who was
[virtually] destroyed before by her wrath, has now been slain by her
having recourse to thy superhuman energy.” On this the commentator
remarks: “By this it is signified that Sítá was the principal cause of
Rávaṇa’s death; but the function of destroying him is ascribed to Ráma.”
On the words, “thou art Vishṇu,” in the preceding verse the same
commentator remarks: “By this it is clearly affirmed that Sítá was
Lakshmí.” This is what Paráśara says: “In the god’s life as Ráma, she
became Sítá, and in his birth as Krishṇa [she became] Rukminí.”(1032)
In the following section (XVIII.) “Rávaṇa is described as violently
interrupting a sacrifice which is being performed by king Marutta, and the
assembled gods in terror assume different shapes to escape; Indra becomes
a peacock, Yáma a crow, Kuvera a lizard, and Varuṇa a swan; and each deity
bestows a boon on the animal he had chosen. The peacock’s tail recalls
Indra’s thousand eyes; the swan’s colour becomes white, like the foam of
the ocean (Varuṇa being its lord); the lizard obtains a golden colour; and
the crow is never to die except when killed by a violent death, and the
dead are to enjoy the funeral oblations when they have been devoured by
the crows.”(1033)
Rávaṇ then attacks Arjuna or Kárttavírya the mighty king of Máhishmati on
the banks of the Narmadá, and is defeated, captured and imprisoned by
Arjuna. At the intercession of Pulastya (Sect. XXII.) he is released from
his bonds. He then visits Kishkindhá where he enters into alliance with
Báli the King of the Vánars: “We will have all things in common,” says
Rávaṇ, “dames, sons, cities and kingdoms, food, vesture, and all
delights.” His next exploit is the invasion of the kingdom of departed
spirits and his terrific battle with the sovereign Yáma. The poet in his
description of these regions with the detested river with waves of blood,
the dire lamentations, the cries for a drop of water, the devouring worm,
all the tortures of the guilty and the somewhat insipid pleasures of the
just, reminds one of the scenes in the under world so vividly described by
Homer, Virgil, and Dante. Yáma is defeated (Sect. XXVI.) by the giant, not
so much by his superior power as because at the request of Brahmá Yáma
refrains from smiting with his deadly weapon the Rákshas enemy to whom
that God had once given the promise that preserved him. In the
twenty-seventh section Rávaṇ goes “under the earth into Pátála the
treasure-house of the waters inhabited by swarms of serpents and Daityas,
and well defended by Varuṇ.” He subdues Bhogavatí the city ruled by Vásuki
and reduces the Nágas or serpents to subjection. He penetrates even to the
imperial seat of Varuṇ. The God himself is absent, but his sons come forth
and do battle with the invader. The giant is victorious and departs
triumphant. The twenty-eighth section gives the details of a terrific
battle between Rávaṇ and Mándhátá King of Ayodhyá, a distinguished
ancestor of Ráma. Supernatural weapons are employed on both sides and the
issue of the conflict is long doubtful. But at last Mándhátá prepares to
use the mighty weapon “acquired by severe austerities through the grace
and favour of Rudra.” The giant would inevitably have been slain. But two
pre-eminent Munis Pulastya and Gálava beheld the fight through the power
given by contemplation, and with words of exhortation they parted King
Mándhátá and the sovereign of the Rákshases. Rávaṇ at last (Sect. XXXII.)
returns homeward carrying with him in his car Pushpak the virgin daughters
of kings, of Rishis, of Daityas, and Gandharvas whom he has seized upon
his way. The thirty-sixth section describes a battle with Indra, in which
the victorious Meghanáda son of the giant, makes the King of the Gods his
prisoner, binds him with his magic art, and carries him away (Sect.
XXVII.) in triumph to Lanká. Brahmá intercedes (Sect. XXXVIII.) and
Indrajít releases his prisoner on obtaining in return the boon that
sacrifice to the Lord of Fire shall always make him invincible in the
coming battle. In sections XXXIX., XL, “we have a legend related to Ráma
by the sage Agastya to account for the stupendous strength of the monkey
Hanumán, as it had been described in the _Rámáyaṇa_. Rama naturally
wonders (as perhaps many readers of the _Rámáyaṇa_ have done since) why a
monkey of such marvellous power and prowess had not easily overcome Báli
and secured the throne for his friend Sugríva. Agastya replies that
Hanumán was at that time under a curse from a Rishi, and consequently was
not conscious of his own might.”(1034) The whole story of the marvellous
Vánar is here given at length, but nothing else of importance is added to
the tale already given in the Rámáyaṇa. The Rishis or saints then (Sect.
XL.) return to their celestial seats, and the Vánars, Rákshases and bears
also (Sect. XLIII.) take their departure. The chariot Pushpak is restored
to its original owner Kuvera, as has already been related in the Rámáyaṇ.
The story of Ráma and Sítá is then continued, and we meet with matter of
more human interest. The winter is past and the pleasant spring-time is
come, and Ráma and Sítá sit together in the shade of the Aśoka trees happy
as Indra and Śachí when they drink in Paradise the nectar of the Gods.
“Tell me, my beloved,” says Ráma, “for thou wilt soon be a mother, hast
thou a wish in thy heart for me to gratify?” And Sítá smiles and answers:
“I long, O son of Raghu, to visit the pure and holy hermitages on the
banks of the Ganges and to venerate the feet of the saints who there
perform their rigid austerities and live on roots and berries. This is my
chief desire, to stand within the hermits’ grove were it but for a single
day.” And Ráma said: “Let not the thought trouble thee: thou shalt go to
the grove of the ascetics.” But slanderous tongues have been busy in
Ayodhyá, and Sítá has not been spared. Ráma hears that the people are
lamenting his blind folly in taking back to his bosom the wife who was so
long a captive in the palace of Rávaṇ. Ráma well knows her spotless purity
in thought, word, and deed, and her perfect love of him; but he cannot
endure the mockery and the shame and resolves to abandon his unsuspecting
wife. He orders the sad but still obedient Lakshmaṇ to convey her to the
hermitage which she wishes to visit and to leave her there, for he will
see her face again no more. They arrive at the hermitage, and Lakshmaṇ
tells her all. She falls fainting on the ground, and when she recovers her
consciousness sheds some natural tears and bewails her cruel and
undeserved lot. But she resolves to live for the sake of Ráma and her
unborn son, and she sends by Lakshmaṇ a dignified message to the husband
who has forsaken her: “I grieve not for myself,” she says “because I have
been abandoned on account of what the people say, and not for any evil
that I have done. The husband is the God of the wife, the husband is her
lord and guide; and what seems good unto him she should do even at the
cost of her life.”
Sítá is honourably received by the saint Válmíki himself, and the holy
women of the hermitage are charged to entertain and serve her. In this
calm retreat she gives birth to two boys who receive the names of Kuśa and
Lava. They are carefully brought up and are taught by Válmíki himself to
recite the Rámáyaṇ. The years pass by: and Ráma at length determines to
celebrate the Aśvamedha or Sacrifice of the Steed. Válmíki, with his two
young pupils, attends the ceremony, and the unknown princes recite before
the delighted father the poem which recounts his deeds. Ráma inquires into
their history and recognizes them as his sons. Sítá is invited to return
and solemnly affirm her innocence before the great assembly.
“But Sítá’s heart was too full; this second ordeal was beyond even her
power to submit to, and the poet rose above the ordinary Hindu level of
women when he ventured to paint her conscious purity as rebelling:
‘Beholding all the spectators, and clothed in red garments, Sítá clasping
her hands and bending low her face, spoke thus in a voice choked with
tears: “as I, even in mind, have never thought of any other than Ráma, so
may Mádhaví the goddess of Earth, grant me a hiding-place.” As Sítá made
this oath, lo! a marvel appeared. Suddenly cleaving the earth, a divine
throne of marvellous beauty rose up, borne by resplendent dragons on their
heads: and seated on it, the goddess of Earth, raising Sítá with her arm,
said to her, “Welcome to thee!” and placed her by her side. And as the
queen, seated on the throne, slowly descended to Hades, a continuous
shower of flowers fell down from heaven on her head.’(1035)”
“Both the great Hindu epics thus end in disappointment and sorrow. In the
_Mahábhárata_ the five victorious brothers abandon the hardly won throne
to die one by one in a forlorn pilgrimage to the Himálaya; and in the same
way Ráma only regains his wife, after all his toils, to lose her. It is
the same in the later Homeric cycle—the heroes of the _Iliad_ perish by
ill-fated deaths. And even Ulysses, after his return to Ithaca, sets sail
again to Thesprotia, and finally falls by the hand of his own son. But in
India and Greece alike this is an afterthought of a self-conscious time,
which has been subsequently added to cast a gloom on the strong
cheerfulness of the heroic age.”(1036)
“The termination of Ráma’s terrestrial career is thus told in Sections 116
ff. of the Uttarakáṇda. Time, in the form of an ascetic, comes to his
palace gate, and asks, as the messenger of the great rishi (Brahmá) to see
Ráma. He is admitted and received with honour, but says, when he is asked
what he has to communicate, that his message must be delivered in private,
and that any one who witnesses the interview is to lose his life. Ráma
informs Lakshmaṇ of all this, and desires him to stand outside. Time then
tells Ráma that he has been sent by Brahmá, to say that when he (Ráma,
_i.e._ Vishṇu) after destroying the worlds was sleeping on the ocean, he
had formed him (Brahmá) from the lotus springing from his navel, and
committed to him the work of creation; that he (Brahmá) had then entreated
Ráma to assume the function of Preserver, and that the latter had in
consequence become Vishṇu, being born as the son of Aditi, and had
determined to deliver mankind by destroying Rávaṇa, and to live on earth
ten thousand and ten hundred years; that period, adds Time, was now on the
eve of expiration, and Ráma could either at his pleasure prolong his stay
on earth, or ascend to heaven and rule over the gods. Ráma replies, that
he had been born for the good of the three worlds, and would now return to
the place whence he had come, as it was his function to fulfil the
purposes of the gods. While they are speaking the irritable rishi Durvásas
comes, and insists on seeing Ráma immediately, under a threat, if refused,
of cursing Ráma and all his family.”
Lakshmaṇ, preferring to save his kinsman, though knowing that his own
death must be the consequence of interrupting the interview of Ráma with
Time, enters the palace and reports the rishi’s message to Ráma. Ráma
comes out, and when Durvásas has got the food he wished, and departed,
Ráma reflects with great distress on the words of Time, which require that
Lakshmaṇ should die. Lakshmaṇ however exhorts Ráma not to grieve, but to
abandon him and not break his own promise. The counsellors concurring in
this advice, Ráma abandons Lakshmaṇ, who goes to the river Sarayú,
suppresses all his senses, and is conveyed bodily by Indra to heaven. The
gods are delighted by the arrival of the fourth part of Vishṇu. Ráma then
resolves to install Bharata as his successor and retire to the forest and
follow Lakshmaṇ. Bharata however refuses the succession, and determines to
accompany his brother. Ráma’s subjects are filled with grief, and say they
also will follow him wherever he goes. Messengers are sent to Śatrughna,
the other brother, and he also resolves to accompany Ráma; who at length
sets out in procession from his capital with all the ceremonial
appropriate to the “great departure,” silent, indifferent to external
objects, joyless, with Śrí on his right, the goddess Earth on his left,
Energy in front, attended by all his weapons in human shapes, by the Vedas
in the forms of Bráhmans, by the Gáyatrí, the Omkára, the Vashaṭkára, by
rishis, by his women, female slaves, eunuchs, and servants. Bharata with
his family, and Śatrughna, follow together with Bráhmans bearing the
sacred fire, and the whole of the people of the country, and even with
animals, etc., etc. Ráma, with all these attendants, comes to the banks of
the Sarayú. Brahmá, with all the gods and innumerable celestial cars, now
appears, and all the sky is refulgent with the divine splendour. Pure and
fragrant breezes blow, a shower of flowers falls. Ráma enters the waters
of the Sarayú; and Brahmá utters a voice from the sky, saying: “Approach,
Vishṇu; Rághava, thou hast happily arrived, with thy godlike brothers.
Enter thine own body as Vishṇu or the eternal ether. For thou art the
abode of the worlds: no one comprehends thee, the inconceivable and
imperishable, except the large-eyed Máyá thy primeval spouse.” Hearing
these words, Ráma enters the glory of Vishṇu with his body and his
followers. He then asks Brahmá to find an abode for the people who had
accompanied him from devotion to his person, and Brahmá appoints them a
celestial residence accordingly.(1037)
ADDITIONAL NOTES.
Queen Fortune.
“A curious festival is celebrated in honour of this divinity (Lakshmî) on
the fifth lunar day of the light half of the month Mâgha (February), when
she is identified with Saraswatí the consort of Brahmá, and the goddess of
learning. In his treatise on festivals, a great modern authority,
Raghunandana, mentions, on the faith of a work called
_Samvatsara-sandipa_, that Lakshmî is to be worshipped in the forenoon of
that day with flowers, perfumes, rice, and water; that due honour is to be
paid to inkstand and writing-reed, and no writing to be done. Wilson, in
his essay on the _Religious Festivals of the Hindus_ (works, vol. ii, p.
188. ff.) adds that on the morning of the 2nd February, the whole of the
pens and inkstands, and the books, if not too numerous and bulky, are
collected, the pens or reeds cleaned, the inkstands scoured, and the books
wrapped up in new cloth, are arranged upon a platform, or a sheet, and
strewn over with flowers and blades of young barley, and that no flowers
except white are to be offered. After performing the necessary rites, …
all the members of the family assemble and make their prostrations; the
books, the pens, and ink having an entire holiday; and should any
emergency require a written communication on the day dedicated to the
divinity of scholarship, it is done with chalk or charcoal upon a black or
white board.”
CHAMBERS’S ENCYCLOPÆDIA. _Lakshmî_.
Indra.
“The Hindu Jove or Jupiter Tonans, chief of the secondary deities. He
presides over swarga or paradise, and is more particularly the god of the
atmosphere and winds. He is also regent of the east quarter of the sky. As
chief of the deities he is called Devapati, Devadeva, Surapati, etc.; as
lord of the atmosphere Divaspati; as lord of the eight Vasus or demigods,
Fire, etc., Vásava; as breaking cities into fragments, Purandara, Puranda;
as lord of a hundred sacrifices (the performance of a hundred Aśvamedhas
elevating the sacrificer to the rank of Indra) Śatakratu, Śatamakha; as
having a thousand eyes, Sahasráksha; as husband of Śachí, Śachípati. His
wife is called Śachí, Indráṇí, Sakráṇí, Maghoni, Indraśakti, Pulomajá, and
Paulomí. His son is Jayanta. His pleasure garden or elysium is Nandana;
his city, Amarávatí; his palace, Vaijayanta; his horse, Uchchaihśravas,
his elephant, Airávata; his charioteer, Mátali.”
PROFESSOR M. WILLIAMS’S English-Sanskrit Dictionary. _Indra_.
Vishnu.
“The second person of the Hindu triad, and the most celebrated and popular
of all the Indian deities. He is the personification of the preserving
power, and became incarnate in nine different forms, for the preservation
of mankind in various emergencies. Before the creation of the universe,
and after its temporary annihilation, he is supposed to sleep on the
waters, floating on the serpent Śesha, and is then identified with
Náráyaṇa. Brahmá, the creator, is fabled to spring at that time from a
lotus which grows from his navel, whilst thus asleep.… His ten avatárs or
incarnations are:
“1. The Matsya, or fish. In this avatár Vishṇu descended in the form of a
fish to save the pious king Satyavrata, who with the seven Rishis and
their wives had taken refuge in the ark to escape the deluge which then
destroyed the earth. 2, The Kúrma, or Tortoise. In this he descended in
the form of a tortoise, for the purpose of restoring to man some of the
comforts lost during the flood. To this end he stationed himself at the
bottom of the ocean, and allowed the point of the great mountain Mandara
to be placed upon his back, which served as a hard axis, whereon the gods
and demons, with the serpent Vásuki twisted round the mountain for a rope,
churned the waters for the recovery of the amrita or nectar, and fourteen
other sacred things. 3. The Varáha, or Boar. In this he descended in the
form of a boar to rescue the earth from the power of a demon called
‘golden-eyed,’ Hiraṇyáksha. This demon had seized on the earth and carried
it with him into the depths of the ocean. Vishṇu dived into the abyss, and
after a contest of a thousand years slew the monster. 4. The Narasinha, or
Man-lion. In this monstrous shape of a creature half-man, half-lion,
Vishṇu delivered the earth from the tyranny of an insolent demon called
Hiraṇyakaśipu. 5. Vámana, or Dwarf. This avatár happened in the second age
of the Hindús or Tretáyug, the four preceding are said to have occurred in
the first or Satyayug; the object of this avatár was to trick Bali out of
the dominion of the three worlds. Assuming the form of a wretched dwarf he
appeared before the king and asked, as a boon, as much land as he could
pace in three steps. This was granted; and Vishṇu immediately expanding
himself till he filled the world, deprived Bali at two steps of heaven and
earth, but in consideration of some merit, left Pátála still in his
dominion. 6. Paraśuráma. 7. Rámchandra. 8. Krishṇa, or according to some
Balaráma. 9. Buddha. In this avatár Vishṇu descended in the form of a sage
for the purpose of making some reform in the religion of the Brahmins, and
especially to reclaim them from their proneness to animal sacrifice. Many
of the Hindús will not allow this to have been an incarnation of their
favourite god. 10. Kalki, or White Horse. This is yet to come. Vishṇu
mounted on a white horse, with a drawn scimitar, blazing like a comet,
will, according to prophecy, end this present age, viz. the fourth or
Kaliyug, by destroying the world, and then renovating creation by an age
of purity.”
WILLIAM’S DICTIONARY. _Vishṇu._
Siva.
“A celebrated Hindú God, the Destroyer of creation, and therefore the most
formidable of the Hindú Triad. He also personifies reproduction, since the
Hindú philosophy excludes the idea of total annihilation without
subsequent regeneration. Hence he is sometimes confounded with Brahmá, the
creator or first person of the Triad. He is the particular God of the
Tántrikas, or followers of the books called Tantras. His worshippers are
termed Śaivas, and although not so numerous as the Vaishṇavas, exalt their
god to the highest place in the heavens, and combine in him many of the
attributes which properly belong to the other deities. According to them
Śiva is Time, Justice, Fire, Water, the Sun, the Destroyer and Creator. As
presiding over generation, his type is the Linga, or Phallus, the origin
probably of the Phallic emblem of Egypt and Greece. As the God of
generation and justice, which latter character he shares with the god
Yama, he is represented riding a white bull. His own colour, as well as
that of the bull, is generally white, referring probably to the unsullied
purity of Justice. His throat is dark-blue; his hair of a light reddish
colour, and thickly matted together, and gathered above his head like the
hair of an ascetic. He is sometimes seen with two hands, sometimes with
four, eight, or ten, and with five faces. He has three eyes, one being in
the centre of his forehead, pointing up and down. These are said to denote
his view of the three divisions of time, past, present, and future. He
holds a trident in his hand to denote, as some say, his relationship to
water, or according to others, to show that the three great attributes of
Creator, Destroyer, and Regenerator are combined in him. His loins are
enveloped in a tiger’s skin. In his character of Time, he not only
presides over its extinction, but also its astronomical regulation. A
crescent or half-moon on his forehead indicates the measure of time by the
phases of the moon; a serpent forms one of his necklaces to denote the
measure of time by years, and a second necklace of human skulls marks the
lapse and revolution of ages, and the extinction and succession of the
generations of mankind. He is often represented as entirely covered with
serpents, which are the emblems of immortality. They are bound in his
hair, round his neck, wrists, waist, arms and legs; they serve as rings
for his fingers, and earrings for his ears, and are his constant
companions. Śiva has more than a thousand names which are detailed at
length in the sixty-ninth chapter of the Śiva Puráṇa.”—WILLIAMS’S
DICTIONARY, _Śiva_.
Apsarases.
“Originally these deities seem to have been personifications of the
vapours which are attracted by the sun, and form into mist or clouds:
their character may be thus interpreted in the few hymns of the Rigveda
where mention is made of them. At a subsequent period when the Gandharva
of the Rigveda who personifies there especially the Fire of the Sun,
expanded into the Fire of Lightning, the rays of the moon and other
attributes of the elementary life of heaven as well as into pious acts
referring to it, the Apsarasas become divinities which represent phenomena
or objects both of a physical and ethical kind closely associated with
that life; thus in the _Yajurveda_ Sunbeams are called the Apsarasas
associated with the Gandharva who is the Sun; Plants are termed the
Apsarasas connected with the Gandharva Fire: Constellations are the
Apsarasas of the Gandharva Moon: Waters the Apsarasas of the Gandharva
Wind, etc. etc.… In the last Mythological epoch when the Gandharvas have
saved from their elementary nature merely so much as to be musicians in
the paradise of Indra, the Apsarasas appear among other subordinate
deities which share in the merry life of Indra’s heaven, as the wives of
the Gandharvas, but more especially as wives of a licentious sort, and
they are promised therefore, too, as a reward to heroes fallen in battle
when they are received in the paradise of Indra; and while, in the
Rigveda, they assist Soma to pour down his floods, they descend in the
epic literature on earth merely to shake the virtue of penitent Sages and
to deprive them of the power they would otherwise have acquired through
unbroken austerities.”—GOLDSTÜCKER’S _Sanskrit Dictionary_.
Vishnu’s Incarnation As Ráma.
“Here is described one of the _avatárs_, descents or manifestations of
Vishṇu in a visible form. The word _avatár_ signifies literally _descent_.
The _avatár_ which is here spoken of, that in which, according to Indian
traditions, Vishṇu descended and appeared upon earth in the corporeal form
of Ráma, the hero of the Rámáyana, is the seventh in the series of Indian
_avatárs_. Much has been said before now of these avatárs, and through
deficient knowledge of the ideas and doctrines of India, they have been
compared to the sublime dogma of the Christian Incarnation. This is one of
the grossest errors that ignorance of the ideas and beliefs of a people
has produced. Between the _avatárs_ of India and the Christian Incarnation
there is such an immensity of difference that it is impossible to find any
reasonable analogy that can approximate them. The idea of the _avatárs_ is
intimately united with that of the Trimúrti; the bond of connection
between these two ideas is an essential notion common to both, the notion
of Vishṇu. What is the Trimúrti? I have already said that it is composed
of three Gods, Brahmá (masculine), Vishṇu the God of _avatárs_, and Śiva.
These three Gods, who when reduced to their primitive and most simple
expression are but three cosmogonical personifications, three powers or
forces of nature, these Gods, I say, are here found, according to Indian
doctrines, entirely external to the true God of India, or Brahma in the
neuter gender. Brahma is alone, unchangeable in the midst of creation: all
emanates from him, he comprehends all, but he remains extraneous to all:
he is Being and the negation of beings. Brahma is never worshipped; the
indeterminate Being is never invoked; he is inaccessible to the prayers as
the actions of man; humanity, as well as nature, is extraneous to him.
External to Brahma rises the Trimúrti, that is to say, Brahmá (masculine)
the power which creates, Vishṇu the power which preserves, and Śiva the
power which destroys: theogony here commences at the same time with
cosmogony. The three divinities of the Trimúrti govern the phenomena of
the universe and influence all nature. The real God of India is by himself
without power; real efficacious power is attributed only to three
divinities who exist externally to him. Brahmá, Vishṇu, and Śiva,
possessed of qualities in part contradictory and attributes that are
mutually exclusive, have no other accord or harmony than that which
results from the power of things itself, and which is found external to
their own thoughts. Such is the Indian Trimúrti. What an immense
difference between this Triad and the wonderful Trinity of Christianity!
Here there is only one God, who created all, provides for all, governs
all. He exists in three Persons equal to one another, and intimately
united in one only infinite and eternal substance. The Father represents
the eternal thought and the power which created, the Son infinite love,
the Holy Spirit universal sanctification. This one and triune God
completes by omnipotent power the great work of creation which, when it
has come forth from His hands, proceeds in obedience to the laws which He
has given it, governed with certain order by His infinite providence.
“The immense difference between the Trimúrti of India and the Christian
Trinity is found again between the _avatárs_ of Vishṇu and the Incarnation
of Christ. The _avatár_ was effected altogether externally to the Being
who is in India regarded as the true God. The manifestation of one
essentially cosmogonical divinity wrought for the most part only material
and cosmogonical prodigies. At one time it takes the form of the gigantic
tortoise which sustains Mount Mandar from sinking in the ocean; at another
of the fish which raises the lost Veda from the bottom of the sea, and
saves mankind from the waters. When these _avatárs_ are not cosmogonical
they consist in some protection accorded to men or Gods, a protection
which is neither universal nor permanent. The very manner in which the
_avatár_ is effected corresponds to its material nature, for instance the
mysterious vase and the magic liquor by means of which the _avatár_ here
spoken of takes place. What are the forms which Vishṇu takes in his
descents? They are the simple forms of life; he becomes a tortoise, a
boar, a fish, but he is not obliged to take the form of intelligence and
liberty, that is to say, the form of man. In the _avatár_ of Vishṇu is
discovered the inpress of pantheistic ideas which have always more or less
prevailed in India. Does the _avatár_ produce a permanent and definitive
result in the world? By no means. It is renewed at every catastrophe
either of nature or man, and its effects are only transitory.… To sum up
then, the Indian _avatár_ is effected externally to the true God of India,
to Brahma; it has only a cosmogonical or historical mission which is
neither lasting nor decisive; it is accomplished by means of strange
prodigies and magic transformations; it may assume promiscuously all the
forms of life; it may be repeated indefinitely. Now let the whole of this
Indian idea taken from primitive tradition be compared with the
Incarnation of Christ and it will be seen that there is between the two an
irreconcilable difference. According to the doctrines of Christianity the
Everlasting Word, Infinite Love, the Son of God, and equal to Him, assumed
a human body, and being born as a man accomplished by his divine act the
great miracle of the spiritual redemption of man. His coming had for its
sole object to bring erring and lost humanity back to Him; this work being
accomplished, and the divine union of men with God being re-established,
redemption is complete and remains eternal.
“The superficial study of India produced in the last century many
erroneous ideas, many imaginary and false parallels between Christianity
and the Brahmanical religion. A profounder knowledge of Indian
civilization and religion, and philological studies enlarged and guided by
more certain principles have dissipated one by one all those errors. The
attributes of the Christian God, which by one of those intellectual
errors, which Vico attributes to the vanity of the learned, had been
transferred to Vishṇu, have by a better inspired philosophy been reclaimed
for Christianity, and the result of the two religions, one immovable and
powerless, the other diffusing itself with all its inherent force and
energy, has shown further that there is a difference, a real opposition,
between the two principles.”—GORRESIO.
Kusa and Lava.
As the story of the banishment of Sítá and the subsequent birth in
Válmíki’s hermitage of Kuśa and Lava the rhapsodists of the Rámáyan, is
intimately connected with the account in the introductory cantos of
Válmíki’s composition of the poem, I shall, I trust, be pardoned for
extracting it from my rough translation of Kálidása’s Raghuvaṇśa, parts
only of which have been offered to the public.
“Then, day by day, the husband’s hope grew high,
Gazing with love on Sítá’s melting eye:
With anxious care he saw her pallid cheek,
And fondly bade her all her wishes speak.
“Once more I fain would see,” the lady cried,
“The sacred groves that rise on Gangá’s side,
Where holy grass is ever fresh and green,
And cattle feeding on the rice are seen:
There would I rest awhile, where once I strayed
Linked in sweet friendship to each hermit maid.”
And Ráma smiled upon his wife, and sware,
With many a tender oath, to grant her prayer.
It chanced, one evening, from a lofty seat
He viewed Ayodhyá stretched before his feet:
He looked with pride upon the royal road
Lined with gay shops their glittering stores that showed,
He looked on Sarjú’s silver waves, that bore
The light barks flying with the sail and oar;
He saw the gardens near the town that lay,
Filled with glad citizens and boys at play.
Then swelled the monarch’s bosom with delight,
And his heart triumphed at the happy sight.
He turned to Bhadra, standing by his side,—
Upon whose secret news the king relied.—
And bade him say what people said and thought
Of all the exploits that his arm had wrought.
The spy was silent, but, when questioned still,
Thus spake, obedient to his master’s will:
“For all thy deeds in peace and battle done
The people praise thee, King, except for one:
This only act of all thy life they blame,—
Thy welcome home of her, thy ravished dame.”
Like iron yielding to the iron’s blow,
Sank Ráma, smitten by those words of woe.
His breast, where love and fear for empire vied,
Swayed, like a rapid swing, from side to side.
Shall he this rumour scorn, which blots his life,
Or banish her, his dear and spotless wife?
But rigid Duty left no choice between
His perilled honour and his darling queen.
Called to his side, his brothers wept to trace
The marks of anguish in his altered face.
No longer bright and glorious as of old,
He thus addressed them when the tale was told:
“Alas! my brothers, that my life should blot
The fame of those the Sun himself begot:
As from the labouring cloud the driven rain
Leaves on the mirror’s polished face a stain.
E’en as an elephant who loathes the stake
And the strong chain he has no power to break,
I cannot brook this cry on every side,
That spreads like oil upon the moving tide.
I leave the daughter of Videha’s King,
And the fair blossom soon from her to spring,
As erst, obedient to my sire’s command,
I left the empire of the sea-girt land.
Good is my queen, and spotless; but the blame
Is hard to bear, the mockery and the shame.
Men blame the pure Moon for the darkened ray,
When the black shadow takes the light away.
And, O my brothers, if ye wish to see
Ráma live long from this reproach set free,
Let not your pity labour to control
The firm sad purpose of his changeless soul.”
Thus Ráma spake. The sorrowing brothers heard
His stern resolve, without an answering word;
For none among them dared his voice to raise,
That will to question:—and they could not praise.
“Beloved brother,” thus the monarch cried
To his dear Lakshmaṇ, whom he called aside.—
Lakshmaṇ, who knew no will save his alone
Whose hero deeds through all the world were known:—
“My queen has told me that she longs to rove
Beneath the shade of Saint Válmíki’s grove:
Now mount thy car, away my lady bear;
Tell all, and leave her in the forest there.”
The car was brought, the gentle lady smiled,
As the glad news her trusting heart beguiled.
She mounted up: Sumantra held the reins;
And forth the coursers bounded o’er the plains.
She saw green fields in all their beauty dressed,
And thanked her husband in her loving breast.
Alas! deluded queen! she little knew
How changed was he whom she believed so true;
How one she worshipped like the Heavenly Tree
Could, in a moment’s time, so deadly be.
Her right eye throbbed,—ill-omened sign, to tell
The endless loss of him she loved so well,
And to the lady’s saddening heart revealed
The woe that Lakshmaṇ, in his love, concealed.
Pale grew the bloom of her sweet face,—as fade
The lotus blossoms,—by that sign dismayed.
“Oh, may this omen,”—was her silent prayer,—
“No grief to Ráma or his brothers bear!”
When Lakshmaṇ, faithful to his brother, stood
Prepared to leave her in the distant wood,
The holy Gangá, flowing by the way,
Raised all her hands of waves to bid him stay.
At length with sobs and burning tears that rolled
Down his sad face, the king’s command he told;
As when a monstrous cloud, in evil hour,
Rains from its labouring womb a stony shower.
She heard, she swooned, she fell upon the earth,
Fell on that bosom whence she sprang to birth.
As, when the tempest in its fury flies,
Low in the dust the prostrate creeper lies,
So, struck with terror sank she on the ground,
And all her gems, like flowers, lay scattered round.
But Earth, her mother, closed her stony breast,
And, filled with doubt, denied her daughter rest.
She would not think the Chief of Raghu’s race
Would thus his own dear guiltless wife disgrace.
Stunned and unconscious, long the lady lay,
And felt no grief, her senses all astray.
But gentle Lakshmaṇ, with a brother’s care,
Brought back her sense, and with her sense, despair.
But not her wrongs, her shame, her grief, could wring
One angry word against her lord the King:
Upon herself alone the blame she laid,
For tears and sighs that would not yet be stayed.
To soothe her anguish Lakshmaṇ gently strove;
He showed the path to Saint Válmíki’s grove;
And craved her pardon for the share of ill
He wrought, obedient to his brother’s will.
“O, long and happy, dearest brother, live!
I have to praise,” she cried, “and not forgive:
To do his will should be thy noblest praise;
As Vishṇu ever Indra’s will obeys.
Return, dear brother: on each royal dame
Bestow a blessing in poor Sítá’s name,
And bid them, in their love, kind pity take
Upon her offspring, for the father’s sake.
And speak my message in the monarch’s ear,
The last last words of mine that he shall hear:
“Say, was it worthy of thy noble race
Thy guiltless queen thus lightly to disgrace?
For idle tales to spurn thy faithful bride,
Whose constant truth the searching fire had tried?
Or may I hope thy soul refused consent,
And but thy voice decreed my banishment?
Hope that no care could turn, no love could stay
The lightning stroke that falls on me to-day?
That sins committed in the life that’s fled
Have brought this evil on my guilty head?
Think not I value now my widowed life,
Worthless to her who once was Ráma’s wife.
I only live because I hope to see
The dear dear babe that will resemble thee.
And then my task of penance shall be done,
With eyes uplifted to the scorching sun;
So shall the life that is to come restore
Mine own dear husband, to be lost no more.”
And Lakshmaṇ swore her every word to tell,
Then turned to go, and bade the queen farewell.
Alone with all her woes, her piteous cries
Rose like a butchered lamb’s that struggling dies.
The reverend sage who from his dwelling came
For sacred grass and wood to feed the flame,
Heard her loud shrieks that rent the echoing wood,
And, quickly following, by the mourner stood.
Before the sage the lady bent her low,
Dried her poor eyes, and strove to calm her woe.
With blessings on her hopes the blameless man
In silver tones his soothing speech began:
“First of all faithful wives, O Queen, art thou;
And can I fail to mourn thy sorrows now?
Rest in this holy grove, nor harbour fear
Where dwell in safety e’en the timid deer.
Here shall thine offspring safely see the light,
And be partaker of each holy rite.
Here, near the hermits’ dwellings, shall thou lave
Thy limbs in Tonse’s sin-destroying wave,
And on her isles, by prayer and worship, gain
Sweet peace of mind, and rest from care and pain.
Each hermit maiden with her sweet soft voice,
Shall soothe thy woe, and bid thy heart rejoice:
With fruit and early flowers thy lap shall fill,
And offer grain that springs for us at will.
And here, with labour light, thy task shall be
To water carefully each tender tree,
And learn how sweet a nursing mother’s joy
Ere on thy bosom rest thy darling boy.…”
That very night the banished Sítá bare
Two royal children, most divinely fair.…
The saint Válmíki, with a friend’s delight,
Graced Sítá’s offspring with each holy rite.
Kuśa and Lava—such the names they bore—
Learnt, e’en in childhood, all the Vedas’ lore;
And then the bard, their minstrel souls to train,
Taught them to sing his own immortal strain.
And Ráma’s deeds her boys so sweetly sang,
That Sítá’s breast forgot her bitterest pang.…
Then Sítá’s children, by the saint’s command,
Sang the Rámáyan, wandering through the land.
How could the glorious poem fail to gain
Each heart, each ear that listened to the strain!
So sweet each minstrel’s voice who sang the praise
Of Ráma deathless in Válmíki’s lays.
Ráma himself amid the wondering throng
Marked their fair forms, and loved the noble song,
While, still and weeping, round the nobles stood,
As, on a windless morn, a dewy wood.
On the two minstrels all the people gazed,
Praised their fair looks and marvelled as they praised;
For every eye amid the throng could trace
Ráma’s own image in each youthful face.
Then spoke the king himself and bade them say
Who was their teacher, whose the wondrous lay.
Soon as Válmíki, mighty saint, he saw,
He bowed his head in reverential awe.
“These are thy children” cried the saint, “recall
Thine own dear Sítá, pure and true through all.”
“O holy father,” thus the king replied,
“The faithful lady by the fire was tried;
But the foul demon’s too successful arts
Raised light suspicions in my people’s hearts.
Grant that their breasts may doubt her faith no more,
And thus my Sítá and her sons restore.”
_Raghuvaṇśa Cantos XIV, XV._
Parasuráma, Page 87.
“He cleared the earth thrice seven times of the Kshatriya caste, and
filled with their blood the five large lakes of Samanta, from which he
offered libations to the race of Bhrigu. Offering a solemn sacrifice to
the King of the Gods Paraśuráma presented the earth to the ministering
priests. Having given the earth to Kaśyapa, the hero of immeasurable
prowess retired to the Mahendra mountain, where he still resides; and in
this manner was there enmity between him and the race of the Kshatriyas,
and thus was the whole earth conquered by Paraśuráma.” The destruction of
the Kshatriyas by Paraśuráma had been provoked by the cruelty of the
Kshatriyas. _Chips from a German Workshop_, _Vol._ II. p. 334.
The scene in which he appears is probably interpolated for the sake of
making him declare Ráma to be Vishṇu. “Herr von Schlegel has often
remarked to me,” says Lassen, “that without injuring the connexion of the
story all the chapters [of the Rámáyan] might be omitted in which Ráma is
regarded as an incarnation of Vishṇu. In fact, where the incarnation of
Vishṇu as the four sons of Daśaratha is described, the great sacrifice is
already ended, and all the priests remunerated at the termination, when
the new sacrifice begins at which the Gods appear, then withdraw, and then
first propose the incarnation to Vishṇu. If it had been an original
circumstance of the story, the Gods would certainly have deliberated on
the matter earlier, and the celebration of the sacrifice would have
continued without interruption.” LASSEN, _Indische Alterthumskunde, Vol.
I._ p. 489.
Yáma, Page 68.
Son of Vivasvat=Jima son of Vivanghvat, the Jamshíd of the later Persians.
Fate, Page 68.
“The idea of fate was different in India from that which prevailed in
Greece. In Greece fate was a mysterious, inexorable power which governed
men and human events, and from which it was impossible to escape. In India
Fate was rather an inevitable consequence of actions done in births
antecedent to one’s present state of existence, and was therefore
connected with the doctrine of metempsychosis. A misfortune was for the
most part a punishment, an expiation of ancient faults not yet entirely
cancelled.” GORRESIO.
Visvámitra, Page 76.
“Though of royal extraction, Viśvámitra conquered for himself and his
family the privileges of a Brahman. He became a Brahman, and thus broke
through all the rules of caste. The Brahmans cannot deny the fact, because
it forms one of the principal subjects of their legendary poems. But they
have spared no pains to represent the exertions of Viśvámitra, in his
struggle for Brahmanhood, as so superhuman that no one would easily be
tempted to follow his example. No mention is made of these monstrous
penances in the Veda, where the struggle between Viśvámitra, the leader of
the Kuśikas or Bharatas, and the Brahman Vaśishtha, the leader of the
white-robed Tritsus, is represented as the struggle of two rivals for the
place of Purohita or chief priest and minister at the court of King Sudás,
the son of Pijavana.” _Chips from a German Workshop_, _Vol. II._ p. 336.
Household Gods, Page 102.
“No house is supposed to be without its tutelary divinity, but the notion
attached to this character is now very far from precise. The deity who is
the object of hereditary and family worship, the _Kuladevatá_, is always
one of the leading personages of the Hindu mythology, as Śiva, Vishṇu or
Durgá, but the _Grihadevatá_ rarely bears any distinct appellation. In
Bengal, the domestic god is sometimes the _Sálagrám_ stone, sometimes the
_tulasi_ plant, sometimes a basket with a little rice in it, and sometimes
a water-jar—to either of which a brief adoration is daily addressed, most
usually by the females of the family. Occasionally small images of Lakshmi
or Chaṇdi fulfil the office, or should a snake appear, he is venerated as
the guardian of the dwelling. In general, however, in former times, the
household deities were regarded as the unseen spirits of ill, the ghosts
and goblins who hovered about every spot, and claimed some particular
sites as their own. Offerings were made to them in the open air, by
scattering a little rice with a short formula at the close of all
ceremonies to keep them in good humour.
“The household gods correspond better with the genii locorum than with the
lares or penates of autiquity.”
H. H. WILSON.
Page 107.
_Śaivya, a king whom earth obeyed,_
_Once to a hawk a promise made._
The following is a free version of this very ancient story which occurs
more than once in the _Mahábhárat_:
THE SUPPLIANT DOVE.
Chased by a hawk there came a dove
With worn and weary wing,
And took her stand upon the hand
Of Káśí’s mighty king.
The monarch smoothed her ruffled plumes
And laid her on his breast,
And cried, “No fear shall vex thee here,
Rest, pretty egg-born, rest!
Fair Káśí’s realm is rich and wide,
With golden harvests gay,
But all that’s mine will I resign
Ere I my guest betray.”
But panting for his half won spoil
The hawk was close behind.
And with wild cry and eager eye
Came swooping down the wind:
“This bird,” he cried, “my destined prize,
’Tis not for thee to shield:
’Tis mine by right and toilsome flight
O’er hill and dale and field.
Hunger and thirst oppress me sore,
And I am faint with toil:
Thou shouldst not stay a bird of prey
Who claims his rightful spoil.
They say thou art a glorious king,
And justice is thy care:
Then justly reign in thy domain,
Nor rob the birds of air.”
Then cried the king: “A cow or deer
For thee shall straightway bleed,
Or let a ram or tender lamb
Be slain, for thee to feed.
Mine oath forbids me to betray
My little twice-born guest:
See how she clings with trembling wings
To her protector’s breast.”
“No flesh of lambs,” the hawk replied,
“No blood of deer for me;
The falcon loves to feed on doves
And such is Heaven’s decree.
But if affection for the dove
Thy pitying heart has stirred,
Let thine own flesh my maw refresh,
Weighed down against the bird.”
He carved the flesh from off his side,
And threw it in the scale,
While women’s cries smote on the skies
With loud lament and wail.
He hacked the flesh from side and arm,
From chest and back and thigh,
But still above the little dove
The monarch’s scale stood high.
He heaped the scale with piles of flesh,
With sinews, blood and skin,
And when alone was left him bone
He threw himself therein.
Then thundered voices through the air;
The sky grew black as night;
And fever took the earth that shook
To see that wondrous sight.
The blessed Gods, from every sphere,
By Indra led, came nigh:
While drum and flute and shell and lute
Made music in the sky.
They rained immortal chaplets down,
Which hands celestial twine,
And softly shed upon his head
Pure Amrit, drink divine.
Then God and Seraph, Bard and Nymph
Their heavenly voices raised,
And a glad throng with dance and song
The glorious monarch praised.
They set him on a golden car
That blazed with many a gem;
Then swiftly through the air they flew,
And bore him home with them.
Thus Káśí’s lord, by noble deed,
Won heaven and deathless fame:
And when the weak protection seek
From thee, do thou the same.
_Scenes from the Rámáyan, &c._
Page 108.
The ceremonies that attended the consecration of a king (_Abhikshepa lit.
Sprinkling over_) are fully described in Goldstücker’s Dictionary, from
which the following extract is made: “The type of the inauguration
ceremony as practised at the Epic period may probably be recognized in the
history of the inauguration of _Ráma_, as told in the _Rámáyana_, and in
that of the inauguration of _Yudhishṭhira_, as told in the _Mahábháratha_.
Neither ceremony is described in these poems with the full detail which is
given of the vaidik rite in the _Aitareya-Bráhmaṇam_; but the allusion
that Ráma was inaugurated by _Vaśishṭha_ and the other Bráhmanas in the
same manner as Indra by the Vasus … and the observation which is made in
some passages that a certain rite of the inauguration was performed
‘according to the sacred rule’ … admit of the conclusion that the ceremony
was supposed to have taken place in conformity with the vaidik
injunction.… As the inauguration of _Ráma_ was intended and the necessary
preparations for it were made when his father Daśaratha was still alive,
but as the ceremony itself, through the intrigues of his step-mother
_Kaikeyí_, did not take place then, but fourteen years later, after the
death of _Daśaratha_, an account of the preparatory ceremonies is given in
the _Ayodhyákáṇḍa_ (Book II) as well as in the _Yuddha-Káṇḍa_ (Book VI.)
of the Rámáyaṇa, but an account of the complete ceremony in the latter
book alone. According to the _Ayodhyákáṇḍa_, on the day preceding the
intended inauguration _Ráma_ and his wife _Sítá_ held a fast, and in the
night they performed this preliminary rite: _Ráma_ having made his
ablutions, approached the idol of _Náráyaṇa_, took a cup of clarified
butter, as the religious law prescribes, made a libation of it into the
kindled fire, and drank the remainder while wishing what was agreeable to
his heart. Then, with his mind fixed on the divinity he lay, silent and
composed, together with _Sítá_, on a bed of Kuśa-grass, which was spread
before the altar of Vishṇu, until the last watch of the night, when he
awoke and ordered the palace to be prepared for the solemnity. At
day-break reminded of the time by the voices of the bards, he performed
the usual morning devotion and praised the divinity. In the meantime the
town Ayodhyá had assumed a festive appearance and the inauguration
implements had been arranged … golden water-jars, an ornamented
throne-seat, a chariot covered with a splendid tiger-skin, water taken
from the confluence of the Ganges and Jumna, as well as from other sacred
rivers, tanks, wells, lakes, and from all oceans, honey, curd, clarified
butter, fried grain, Kuśa-grass, flowers, milk; besides, eight beautiful
damsels, and a splendid furious elephant, golden and silver jars, filled
with water, covered with _Udumbara_ branches and various lotus flowers,
besides a white jewelled _chourie_, a white splendid parasol, a white
bull, a white horse, all manner of musical instruments and bards.… In the
preceding chapter … there are mentioned _two_ white _chouries_ instead of
one, and all kinds of seeds, perfumes and jewels, a scimitar, a bow, a
litter, a golden vase, and a blazing fire, and amongst the living
implements of the pageant, instead of the bards, gaudy courtesans, and
besides the eight damsels, professors of divinity, Bráhmaṇas, cows and
pure kinds of wild beasts and birds, the chiefs of town and country-people
and the citizens with their train.”
Page 109.
_Then with the royal chaplains they_
_Took each his place in long array._
_The twice born chiefs, with zealous heed,_
_Made ready what the rite would need._
“Now about the office of a Purohita (house priest). The gods do not eat
the food offered by a king, who has no house-priest (Purohita). Thence the
king even when (not) intending to bring a sacrifice, should appoint a
Bráhman to the office of house-priest.” HAUG’S _Autareya Bráhmanam. Vol.
II. p. 528_.
Page 110.
_There by the gate the Sáras screamed._
The Sáras or Indian Crane is a magnificent bird easily domesticated and
speedily constituting himself the watchman of his master’s house and
garden. Unfortunately he soon becomes a troublesome and even dangerous
dependent, attacking strangers with his long bill and powerful wings, and
warring especially upon “small infantry” with unrelenting ferocity.
Page 120.
_My mothers or my sire the king._
All the wives of the king his father are regarded and spoken of by Ráma as
his mothers.
Page 125.
_Such blessings as the Gods o’erjoyed_
_Poured forth when Vritra was destroyed._
“Mythology regards Vritra as a demon or Asur, the implacable enemy of
Indra, but this is not the primitive idea contained in the name of Vritra.
In the hymns of the Veda Vritra appears to be the thick dark cloud which
Indra the God of the firmament attacks and disperses with his
thunderbolt.” GORRESIO.
“In that class of Rig-veda hymns which there is reason to look upon as the
oldest portion of Vedic poetry, the character of Indra is that of a mighty
ruler of the firmament, and his principal feat is that of conquering the
demon _Vritra_, a symbolical personification of the cloud which obstructs
the clearness of the sky, and withholds the fructifying rain from the
earth. In his battles with Vritra he is therefore described as ‘opening
the receptacles of the waters,’ as ‘cleaving the cloud’ with his
‘far-whirling thunderbolt,’ as ‘casting the waters down to earth,’ and
‘restoring the sun to the sky.’ He is in consequence ‘the upholder of
heaven, earth, and firmament,’ and the god ‘who has engendered the sun and
the dawn.’ ” CHAMBERS’S CYCLOPÆDIA, _Indra_.
“Throughout these hymns two images stand out before us with overpowering
distinctness. On one side is the bright god of the heaven, as beneficent
as he is irresistible: on the other the demon of night and of darkness, as
false and treachorous as he is malignant.… The latter (as his name Vritra,
from var, to veil, indicates) is pre-eminently the thief who hides away
the rain-clouds.… But the myth is yet in too early a state to allow of the
definite designations which are brought before us in the conflicts of Zeus
with Typhôn and his monstrous progeny, of Apollôn with the Pythôn, of
Bellerophôn with Chimaira of Oidipous with the Sphinx, of Hercules with
Cacus, of Sigurd with the dragon Fafnir; and thus not only is Vritra known
by many names, but he is opposed sometimes by Indra, sometimes by Agni the
fire-god, sometimes by Trita, Brihaspati, or other deities; or rather
these are all names of one and the same god.” COX’S _Mythology of the
Aryan Nations. Vol. II. p. 326_.
Page 125.
_And that prized herb whose sovereign power_
_Preserves from dark misfortune’s hour._
“And yet more medicinal is it than that Moly,
That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave;
He called it Hæmony, and gave it me,
And bade me keep it as of sovereign use
’Gainst all enchantment, mildew, blast, or damp,
Or ghastly furies’ apparition.” _Comus._
The _Moly_ of Homer, which Dierbach considers to have been the _Mandrake_,
is probably a corruption of the Sanskrit _Múla_ a root.
Page 136.
_True is the ancient saw: the Neem_
_Can ne’er distil a honeyed stream._
The Neem tree, especially in the Rains, emits a strong unpleasant smell
like that of onions. Its leaves however make an excellent cooling
poultice, and the Extract of Neem is an admirable remedy for cutaneous
disorders.
Page 152.
_Who of Nisháda lineage came._
The following account of the origin of the Nishádas is taken from Wilson’s
_Vishṇu Puráṇa_, Book I. Chap. 15. “Afterwards the Munis beheld a great
dust arise, and they said to the people who were nigh: ‘What is this?’ And
the people answered and said: ‘Now that the kingdom is without a king, the
dishonest men have begun to seize the property of their neighbours. The
great dust that you behold, excellent Munis, is raised by troops of
clustering robbers, hastening to fall upon their prey.’ The sages, hearing
this, consulted, and together rubbed the thigh of the king (Vena), who had
left no offspring, to produce a son. From the thigh, thus rubbed, came
forth a being of the complexion of a charred stake, with flattened
features like a negro, and of dwarfish stature. ‘What am I to do,’ cried
he eagerly to the Munis. ‘Sit down (nishída),’ said they. And thence his
name was Nisháda. His descendants, the inhabitants of the Vindhyá
mountain, great Muni, are still called Nishádas and are characterized by
the exterior tokens of depravity.” Professor Wilson adds, in his note on
the passage: “The Matsya says that there were born outcast or barbarous
races, Mlechchhas, as black as collyrium. The Bhágavata describes an
individual of dwarfish stature, with short arms and legs, of a complexion
as black as a crow, with projecting chin, broad flat nose, red eyes, and
tawny hair, whose descendants were mountaineers and foresters. The Padma
(Bhúmi Khaṇḍa) has a similar deccription; adding to the dwarfish stature
and black complexion, a wide mouth, large ears, and a protuberant belly.
It also particularizes his posterity as Nishádas, Kirátas, Bhillas, and
other barbarians and Mlechchhas, living in woods and on mountains. These
passages intend, and do not much exaggerate, the uncouth appearance of the
Gonds, Koles, Bhils, and other uncivilized tribes, scattered along the
forests and mountains of Central India from Behar to Khandesh, and who
are, not improbably, the predecessors of the present occupants of the
cultivated portions of the country. They are always very black,
ill-shapen, and dwarfish, and have countenances of a very African
character.”
Manu gives a different origin of the Nishádas as the offspring of a
Bráhman father and a Súdra mother. See Muir’s _Sanskrit Texts_, Vol. I. p.
481.
Page 157.
_Beneath a fig-tree’s mighty shade,_
_With countless pendent shoots displayed._
“So counselled he, and both together went
Into the thickest wood; there soon they chose
The fig-tree: not that kind for fruit renowned,
But such as at this day, to Indians known,
In Malabar or Deccan spreads her arms
Branching so broad and long, that in the ground
The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow
About the mother tree, a pillared shade
High overarched, and echoing walks between.”
_Paradise Lost_, Book IX.
Page 161.
_Now, Lakshmaṇ, as our cot is made,_
_Must sacrifice be duly paid._
The rites performed in India on the completion of a house are represented
in modern Europe by the familiar “house-warming.”
Page 169.
_I longed with all my lawless will_
_Some elephant by night to kill._
One of the regal or military caste was forbidden to kill an elephant
except in battle.
_Thy hand has made no Bráhman bleed._
“The punishment which the Code of Manu awards to the slayer of a Brahman
was to be branded in the forehead with the mark of a headless corpse, and
entirely banished from society; this being apparently commutable for a
fine. The poem is therefore in accordance with the Code regarding the
peculiar guilt of killing Brahmans; but in allowing a hermit who was not a
_Divija_ (twice-born) to go to heaven, the poem is far in advance of the
Code. The youth in the poem is allowed to read the Veda, and to accumulate
merit by his own as well as his father’s pious acts; whereas the exclusive
Code reserves all such privileges to _Divijas_ invested with the sacred
cord.” Mrs. SPEIR’S _Life in Ancient India_, p. 107.
Page 174. The Praise Of Kings
“Compare this magnificent eulogium of kings and kingly government with
what Samuel says of the king and his authority: And Samuel told all the
words of the LORD unto the people that asked of him a king.
And he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over
you: He will take your sons, and appoint them for himself, for his
chariots, and to be his horsemen: and some shall run before his chariots.
And he will appoint him captains over thousands, and captains over
fifties, and will set them to work his ground, and to reap his harvest,
and to make his instrument of war, and instruments of his chariots.
And he will take your daughters to be confectionaries, and to be cooks,
and to be bakers.
And he will take your fields, and your vineyards and your oliveyards, even
the best of them, and give them to his servants.
And he will take the tenth of your seed, and of your vineyards, and give
to his officers, and to his servants.
And he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your
goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work.
He will take the tenth of your sheep: and ye shall be his servants.
And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king which ye shall have
chosen you. I. _Samuel_, VIII.
In India kingly government was ancient and consecrated by tradition:
whence to change it seemed disorderly and revolutionary: in Judæa
theocracy was ancient and consecrated by tradition, and therefore the
innovation which would substitute a king was represented as full of
dangers.” GORRESIO.
Page 176. Sálmalí.
According to the Bengal recension Śálmalí appears to have been another
name of the Vipáśá. Śálmalí may be an epithet signifying rich in Bombax
heptaphyllon. The commentator makes another river out of the word.
Page 178. Bharat’s Return.
“Two routes from Ayodhyá to Rájagriha or Girivraja are described. That
taken by the envoys appears to have been the shorter one, and we are not
told why Bharat returned by a different road. The capital of the Kekayas
lay to the west of the Vipáśá. Between it and the Śatadru stretched the
country of the Báhíkas. Upon the remaining portion of the road the two
recensions differ. According to that of Bengal there follow towards the
east the river Indamatí, then the town Ajakála belonging to the Bodhi,
then Bhulingá, then the river Śaradaṇḍá. According to the other instead of
the first river comes the Ikshumatí … instead of the first town Abhikála,
instead of the second Kulingá, then the second river. According to the
direction of the route both the above-mentioned rivers must be tributaries
of the Śatadrú.… The road then crossed the Yamuná (Jumna), led beyond that
river through the country of the Panchálas, and reached the Ganges at
Hástinapura, where the ferry was. Thence it led over the Rámagangá and its
eastern tributaries, then over the Gomati, and then in a southern
direction along the Málini, beyond which it reached Ayodhyá. In Bharat’s
journey the following rivers are passed from west to east: _Kutikoshṭiká_,
_Uttániká_, _Kuṭiká_, _Kapívatí_, _Gomatí_ according to Schlegel, and
_Hiraṇyavatí_, _Uttáriká_, _Kuṭilá_, _Kapívatí_, _Gomatí_ according to
Gorresio. As these rivers are to be looked for on the east of the Ganges,
the first must be the modern _Koh_, a small affluent of the Rámagangá,
over which the highway cannot have gone as it bends too far to the north.
The Uttániká or Uttáriká must be the Rámagangá, the Kuṭiká or Kuṭilá its
eastern tributary, Kośilá, the Kapívatí the next tributary which on the
maps has different names, _Gurra_ or above Kailas, lower down _Bhaigu_.
The Gomatí (Goomtee) retains its old name. The Máliní, mentioned only in
the envoys’ journey, must have been the western tributary of the Sarayú
now called Chuká.” LASSEN’S _Indische Alterthumskunde_, Vol. II. P. 524.
Page 183.
_What worlds await thee, Queen, for this?_
“Indian belief divided the universe into several worlds (_lokáh_). The
three principal worlds were heaven, earth, and hell. But according to
another division there were seven: Bhúrloka or the earth, Bhuvarloka or
the space between the earth and the sun, the seat of the Munis, Siddhas,
&c., Svarloka or the heaven of Indra between the sun and the polar star,
and the seventh Brahmaloka or the world of Brahma. Spirits which reached
the last were exempt from being born again.” GORRESIO.
Page 203.
_When from a million herbs a blaze_
_Of their own luminous glory plays._
This mention of lambent flames emitted by herbs at night may be compared
with Lucan’s description of a similar phenomenon in the Druidical forest
near Marseilles, (_Pharsalia_, III. 420.).
_Non ardentis_ fulgere incendia silvae.
Seneca, speaking of Argolis, (Thyestes, Act IV), says:—
Tota solet
Micare flamma silva, et excelsae trabes
_Ardent sine igni_.
Thus also the bush at Horeb (Exod. II.) flamed, but was not consumed.
The Indian explanation of the phenomenon is, that the sun before he sets
deposits his rays for the night with the deciduous plants. See _Journal of
R. As. S. Bengal_, Vol. II. p. 339.
Page 219.
_We rank the Buddhist with the thief._
Schlegel says in his Preface: “Lubrico vestigio insistit V. Cl.
_Heerenius, prof. Gottingensis_, in libro suo de commerciis veterum
populorum (OPP. Vol. HIST. XII, pag. 129,) dum putat, ex mentione
sectatorum Buddhae secundo libro Rameidos iniecta de tempore, quo totum
carmen sit conditum, quicquam legitime concludi posse.… Sunt versus
spurii, reiecti a Bengalis in sola commentatorum recensione leguntur.
Buddhas quidem mille fere annis ante Christum natun vixit: sed post multa
demumsecula, odiointernecivo inter Brachmanos et Buddhae sectatores orto,
his denique ex India pulsis, fingi potuit iniquissima criminatio, eos
animi immortalitatem poenasque et praemia in vita futura negare. Praeterea
metrum, quo concinnati sunt hi versus, de quo metro mox disseram,
recentiorem aetatem arguit.… Poenitet me nunc mei consilii, quod non
statim ab initio, … eiecerim cuncta disticha diversis a sloco vulgari
metris composita. Metra sunt duo: pariter ambo constant quatuor
hemistichiis inter se aequalibus, alterum undenarum syllabarum, alterum
duodenarum, hunc in modum:
[-)] [-] [)] [-] | [-] [)] [)] [-] | [)] [-] [-)]
[)] [-] [)] [-] | [-] [)] [)] [-] | [)] [-] [)] [-)]
Cuius generis versus in primo et secundo Rameidos libro nusquam nisi ad
finem capitum apposita inveniuntur, et huic loco unice sunt accommodata,
quasi peroratio, lyricis numeris assurgens, quo magis canorae cadant
clausulae: sicut musici in concentibus extremis omnium vocum
instrumentorumque ictu fortiore aures percellere amant. Igitur disticha
illa non ante divisionem per capita illatam addi potuerunt: hanc autem
grammaticis deberi argumento est ipse recensionum dissensus, manifesto
inde ortus, quod singuli editores in ea constituenda suo quisque iudicio
usi sunt; praeterquam quod non credibile est, poetam artis suae peritum
narrationem continuam in membra tam minuta dissecuisse. Porro discolor est
dictio: magniloquentia affectatur, sed nimis turgida illa atque effusa,
nec sententiarum pondere satis suffulta. Denique nihil fere novi affertur:
ampli ficantur prius dicta, rarius aliquid ex capite sequente anticipatur.
Si quis appendices hosce legendo transiliat, sentiet slocum ultimum cum
primo capitis proximi apte coagmentatum, nec sine vi quadam inde avulsum.
Eiusmodi versus exhibet utraque recensio, sed modo haec modo illa plures
paucioresve numero, et lectio interdum magnopere variat.”
“The narrative of Ráma’s exile in the jungle is one of the most obscure
portions of the Rámáyana, inasmuch as it is difficult to discover any
trace of the original tradition, or any illustration of actual life and
manners, beyond the artificial life of self-mortification and selfdenial
said to have been led by the Brahman sages of olden time. At the same
time, however, the story throws some light upon the significance of the
poem, and upon the character in which the Brahmanical author desired to
represent Ráma; and consequently it deserves more serious consideration
than the nature of the subject-matter would otherwise seem to imply.
“According to the Rámáyana, the hero Ráma spent more than thirteen years
of his exile in wandering amongst the different Brahmanical settlements,
which appear to have been scattered over the country between the Ganges
and the Godáveri; his wanderings extending from the hill of Chitra-kúṭa in
Bundelkund, to the modern town of Nasik on the western side of India, near
the source of the Godáveri river, and about seventy-five miles to the
north-west of Bombay. The appearance of these Brahmanical hermitages in
the country far away to the south of the Raj of Kasala, seems to call for
critical inquiry. Each hermitage is said to have belonged to some
particular sage, who is famous in Brahmanical tradition. But whether the
sages named were really contemporaries of Ráma, or whether they could
possibly have flourished at one and the same period, is open to serious
question. It is of course impossible to fix with any degree of certainty
the relative chronology of the several sages, who are said to have been
visited by Ráma; but still it seems tolerably clear that some belonged to
an age far anterior to that in which the Rámáyana was composed, and
probably to an age anterior to that in which Ráma existed as a real and
living personage; whilst, at least, one sage is to be found who could only
have existed in the age during which the Rámáyana was produced in its
present form. The main proofs of these inferences are as follows. An
interval of many centuries seems to have elapsed between the composition
of the Rig-Veda and that of the Rámáyana: a conclusion which has long been
proved by the evidence of language, and is generally accepted by Sanskrit
scholars. But three of the sages, said to have been contemporary with
Ráma, namely, Viśvámitra, Atri and Agastya, are frequently mentioned in
the hymns of the Rig-Veda; whilst Válmíki, the sage dwelling at
Chitra-kúṭa, is said to have been himself the composer of the Rámáyana.
Again, the sage Atri, whom Ráma visited immediately after his departure
from Chitra-kúṭa, appears in the genealogical list preserved in the Mahá
Bhárata, as the progenitor of the Moon, and consequently as the first
ancestor of the Lunar race: whilst his grandson Buddha [Budha] is said to
have married Ilá, the daughter of Ikhsváku who was himself the remote
ancestor of the Solar race of Ayodhyá, from whom Ráma was removed by many
generations. These conclusions are not perhaps based upon absolute proof,
because they are drawn from untrustworthy authorities; but still the
chronological difficulties have been fully apprehended by the Pundits, and
an attempt has been made to reconcile all contradictions by representing
the sages to have lived thousands of years, and to have often re-appeared
upon earth in different ages widely removed from each other. Modern
science refuses to accept such explanations; and consequently it is
impossible to escape the conclusion that if Válmíki composed the Rámáyana
in the form of Sanskrit in which it has been preserved, he could not have
flourished in the same age as the sages who are named in the Rig-Veda.”
WHEELER’S _History of India, Vol._ II, 229.
Page 249.
_And King Himálaya’s Child._
Umá or Párvatí, was the daughter of Himálaya and Mená. She is the heroine
of Kálidása’s _Kumára-Sambhava_ or _Birth of the War-God_.
Page 250.
_Strong Kumbhakarṇa slumbering deep_
_In chains of never-ending sleep._
“Kumbhakarṇa, the gigantic brother of the titanic Rávaṇ,—named from the
size of his ears which could contain a _Kumbha_ or large water-jar—had
such an appetite that he used to consume six months’ provisions in a
single day. Brahmá, to relieve the alarm of the world, which had begun to
entertain serious apprehensions of being eaten up, decreed that the giant
should sleep six months at a time and wake for only one day during which
he might consume his six months’ allowance without trespassing unduly on
the reproductive capabilities of the ” _Scenes front the Rámáyan_, p. 153,
2nd Edit.
Page 257.
_Like Śiva when his angry might_
_Stayed Daksha’s sacrificial rite._
The following spirited version of this old story is from the pen of Mr. W.
Waterfield:
“This is a favorite subject of Hindú sculpture, especially on the temples
of Shiva, such as the caves of Elephanta and Ellora. It, no doubt, is an
allegory of the contest between the followers of Shiva and the worshippers
of the Elements, who observed the old ritual of the Vedas; in which the
name of Shiva is never mentioned.
Daksha for devotion
Made a mighty feast:
Milk and curds and butter,
Flesh of bird and beast,
Rice and spice and honey,
Sweetmeats ghí and gur,(1038)
Gifts for all the Bráhmans,
Food for all the poor.
At the gates of Gangá(1039)
Daksha held his feast;
Called the gods unto it,
Greatest as the least.
All the gods were gathered
Round with one accord;
All the gods but Umá,
All but Umá’s lord.
Umá sat with Shiva
On Kailása hill:
Round them stood the Rudras
Watching for their will.
Who is this that cometh
Lilting to his lute?
All the birds of heaven
Heard his music, mute.
Round his head a garland
Rich of hue was wreathed:
Every sweetest odour
From its blossoms breathed.
’Tis the Muni Nárad;
’Mong the gods he fares,
Ever making mischief
By the tales he bears.
“Hail to lovely Umá!
Hail to Umá’s lord!
Wherefore are they absent
For her father’s board?
Multiplied his merits
Would be truly thrice,
Could he gain your favour
For his sacrifice.”
Worth of heart was Umá;
To her lord she spake:—
“Why dost thou, the mighty,
Of no rite partake?
Straight I speed to Daksha
Such a sight to see:
If he be my father,
He must welcome thee.”
Wondrous was in glory
Daksha’s holy rite;
Never had creation
Viewed so brave a sight.
Gods, and nymphs, find fathers,
Sages, Bráhmans, sprites,—
Every diverge creature
Wrought that rite of rites.
Quickly then a quaking
Fell on all from far;
Umá stood among them
On her lion car.
“Greeting, gods and sages,
Greeting, father mine!
Work hath wondrous virtue,
Where such aids combine.
Guest-hall never gathered
Goodlier company:
Seemeth all are welcome.
All the gods but me.”
Spake the Muni Daksha,
Stern and cold his tone:—
“Welcome thou, too, daughter,
Since thou com’st alone.
But thy frenzied husband
Suits another shrine;
He is no partaker
Of this feast of mine.
He who walks in darkness
Loves no deeds of light:
He who herds with demons
Shuns each kindly sprite.
Let him wander naked.—
Wizard weapons wield,—
Dance his frantic measure
Round the funeral field.
Art thou yet delighted
With the reeking hide,
Body smeared with ashes.
Skulls in necklace tied?
Thou to love this monster?
Thou to plead his part!
Know the moon and Gangá
Share that faithless heart
Vainly art thou vying
With thy rivals’ charms.
Are not coils of serpents
Softer than thine arms?”
Words like these from Daksha
Daksha’s daughter heard:
Then a sudden passion
All her bosom stirred.
Eyes with fury flashing.
Speechless in her ire,
Headlong did she hurl her
’Mid the holy fire.
Then a trembling terror
Overcame each one,
And their minds were troubled
Like a darkened sun;
And a cruel Vision,
Face of lurid flame,
Umá’s Wrath incarnate,
From the altar came.
Fiendlike forms by thousands
Started from his side,
’Gainst the sacrificers
All their might they plied:
Till the saints availed not
Strength like theirs to stay,
And the gods distracted
Turned and fled away.
Hushed were hymns and chanting,
Priests were mocked and spurned;
Food defiled and scattered;
Altars overturned.—
Then, to save the object
Sought at such a price,
Like a deer in semblance
Sped the sacrifice.
Soaring toward the heavens,
Through the sky it fled?
But the Rudras chasing
Smote away its head.
Prostrate on the pavement
Daksha fell dismayed:—
“Mightiest, thou hast conquered
Thee we ask for aid.
Let not our oblations
All be rendered vain;
Let our toilsome labour
Full fruition gain.”
Bright the broken altars
Shone with Shiva’s form;
“Be it so!” His blessing
Soothed that frantic storm.
Soon his anger ceases,
Though it soon arise;—
But the Deer’s Head ever
Blazes in the skies.”
_Indian Ballads and other Poems._
Page 286. Urvasí.
“The personification of Urvasî herself is as thin as that of Eôs or
Selênê. Her name is often found in the Veda as a mere name for the
morning, and in the plural number it is used to denote the dawns which
passing over men bring them to old age and death. Urvasî is the bright
flush of light overspreading the heaven before the sun rises, and is but
another form of the many mythical beings of Greek mythology whose names
take us back to the same idea or the same root. As the dawn in the Vedic
hymns is called Urûkî, the far-going (Têlephassa, Têlephos), so is she
also Uruasî, the wide-existing or wide-spreading; as are Eurôpê,
Euryanassa, Euryphassa, and many more of the sisters of Athênê and
Aphroditê. As such she is the mother of Vasishtha, the bright being, as
Oidipous is the son of Iokastê; and although Vasishtha, like Oidipous, has
become a mortal bard or sage, he is still the son of Mitra and Varuṇa, of
night and day. Her lover Purûravas is the counterpart of the Hellenic
Polydeukês; but the continuance of her union with him depends on the
condition that she never sees him unclothed. But the Gandharvas, impatient
of her long sojourn among mortal men resolved to bring her back to their
bright home; and Purûravas is thus led unwitingly to disregard her
warning. A ewe with two lambs was tied to her couch, and the Gandharvas
stole one of them; Urvasî said, ‘They take away my darling, as if I lived
in a land where there is no hero and no man.’ They stole the second, and
she upbraided her husband again. Then Purûravas looked and said, ‘How can
that be a land without heroes or men where I am?’ And naked he sprang up;
he thought it was too long to put on his dress. Then the Gandharvas sent a
flash of lighting, and Urvasî saw her husband naked as by daylight. Then
she vanished. ‘I come back,’ she said, and went. ‘Then he bewailed his
vanished love in bitter grief.’ Her promise to return was fulfilled, but
for a moment only, at the Lotos-lake, and Purûravas in vain beseeches her
to tarry longer. ‘What shall I do with thy speech?’ is the answer of
Urvasî. ‘I am gone like the first of the dawns. Purûravas, go home again.
I am hard to be caught like the winds.’ Her lover is in utter despair; but
when he lies down to die, the heart of Urvasî was melted, and she bids him
come to her on the last night of the year. On that night only he might be
with her; but a son should be born to him. On that day he went up to the
golden seats, and there Urvasî told him that the Gandharvas would grant
him one wish, and that he must make his choice. ‘Choose thou for me,’ he
said: and she answered, ‘Say to them, Let me be one of you.’ ”
COX’S _Mythology of the Aryan Nations._ Vol. I. p. 397.
Page 324.
_The sovereign of the Vánar race._
“Vánar is one of the most frequently occurring names by which the poem
calls the monkeys of Ráma’s army. Among the two or three derivations of
which the word Vánar is susceptible, one is that which deduces it from
vana which signifies a wood, and thus Vánar would mean a forester, an
inhabitant of the wood. I have said elsewhere that the monkeys, the
Vánars, whom Ráma led to the conquest of Ceylon were fierce woodland
tribes who occupied the mountainous regions of the south of India, where
their descendants may still be seen. I shall hence forth promiscuously
employ the word _Vánar_ to denote those monkeys, those fierce combatants
of Ráma’s army.” GORRESIO.
Page 326.
_No change of hue, no pose of limb_
_Gave sign that aught was false in him._
_Concise, unfaltering, sweet and clear,_
_Without a word to pain the ear,_
_From chest to throat, nor high nor low,_
_His accents came in measured flow._
Somewhat similarly in _The Squire’s Tale_:
“He with a manly voice said his message,
After the form used in his language,
Withouten vice of syllable or of letter.
And for his talë shouldë seem the better
Accordant to his wordës was his chere,
As teacheth art of speech them that it lere.”
Page 329. Ráma’s Alliance With Sugríva.
“The literal interpretation of this portion of the Rámáyana is indeed
deeply rooted in the mind of the Hindu. He implicitly believes that Ráma
is Vishnu, who became incarnate for the purpose of destroying the demon
Rávana: that he permitted his wife to be captured by Rávana for the sake
of delivering the gods and Bráhmans from the oppressions of the Rákshasa;
and that he ultimately assembled an army of monkeys, who were the progeny
of the gods, and led them against the strong-hold of Rávana at Lanká, and
delivered the world from the tyrant Rákshasa, whilst obtaining ample
revenge for his own personal wrongs.
One other point seems to demand consideration, namely, the possibility of
such an alliance as that which Ráma is said to have concluded with the
monkeys. This possibility will of course be denied by modern critics, but
still it is interesting to trace out the circumstances which seem to have
led to the acceptance of such a wild belief by the dreamy and marvel
loving Hindi. The south of India swarms with monkeys of curious
intelligence and rare physical powers. Their wonderful instinct for
organization, their attachment to particular localities, their occasional
journeys in large numbers over mountains and across rivers, their
obstinate assertion of supposed rights, and the ridiculous caricature
which they exhibit of all that is animal and emotional in man, would
naturally create a deep impression.… Indeed the habits of monkeys well
deserve to be patiently studied; not as they appear in confinement, when
much that is revolting in their nature is developed, but as they appear
living in freedom amongst the trees of the forest, or in the streets of
crowded cities, or precincts of temples. Such a study would not fail to
awaken strange ideas; and although the European would not be prepared to
regard monkeys as sacred animals he might be led to speculate as to their
origin by the light of data, which are at present unknown to the
naturalist whose observations have been derived from the menagerie alone.
Whatever, however, may have been the train of ideas which led the Hindú to
regard the monkey as a being half human and half divine, there can be
little doubt that in the Rámáyana the monkeys of southern India have been
confounded with what may be called the aboriginal people of the country.
The origin of this confusion may be easily conjectured. Perchance the
aborigines of the country may have been regarded as a superior kind of
monkeys; and to this day the features of the Marawars, who are supposed to
be the aborigines of the southern part of the Carnatic, are not only
different from those of their neighbours, but are of a character
calculated to confirm the conjecture. Again, it is probable that the army
of aborigines may have been accompanied by outlying bands of monkeys
impelled by that magpie-like curiosity and love of plunder which are the
peculiar characteristics of the monkey race; and this incident may have
given rise to the story that the army was composed of Monkeys.”
WHEELER’S _History of India. Vol. II. pp. 316 ff._
Page 342. The Fall Of Báli.
“As regards the narrative, it certainly seems to refer to some real event
amongst the aboriginal tribes: namely, the quarrel between an elder and
younger brother for the possession of a Ráj; and the subsequent alliance
of Ráma with the younger brother. It is somewhat remarkable that Ráma
appears to have formed an alliance with the wrong party, for the right of
Báli was evidently superior to that of Sugríva; and it is especially
worthy of note that Ráma compassed the death of Báli by an act contrary to
all the laws of fair fighting. Again, Ráma seems to have tacitly
sanctioned the transfer of Tárá from Báli to Sugríva, which was directly
opposed to modern rule, although in conformity with the rude customs of a
barbarous age; and it is remarkable that to this day the marriage of both
widows and divorced women is practised by the Marawars, or aborigines of
the southern Carnatic, contrary to the deeply-rooted prejudice which
exists against such unions amongst the Hindús at large.”
WHEELER’S _History of India, Vol. II. 324_.
Page 370. The Vánar Host.
“The splendid Marutas form the army of Indras, the red-haired monkeys and
bears that of Râmas; and the mythical and solar nature of the monkeys and
bears of the Râmâyaṇam manifests itself several times. The king of the
monkeys is a sun-god. The ancient king was named Bâlin, and was the son of
Indras. His younger brother Sugrívas, he who changes his shape at pleasure
(Kâmarúpas), who, helped by Râmas, usurped his throne, is said to be own
child of the sun. Here it is evident that the Vedic antagonism between
Indras and Vishṇus is reproduced in a zoological and entirely apish form.
The old Zeus must give way to the new, the moon to the sun, the evening to
the morning sun, the sun of winter to that of spring; the young son
betrays and overthrows the old one.… Râmas, who treacherously kills the
old king of the monkeys, Bâlin, is the equivalent of Vishṇus, who hurls
his predecessor Indras from his throne; and Sugrívas, the new king of the
monkeys resembles Indras when he promises to find the ravished Sítá, in
the same way as Vishṇus in one of his incarnations finds again the lost
vedás. And there are other indications in the Râmâyaṇam of opposition
between Indras and the monkeys who assist Râmas. The great monkey
Hanumant, of the reddish colour of gold, has his jaw broken, Indras having
struck him with his thunderbolt and caused him to fall upon a mountain,
because, while yet a child, he threw himself off a mountain into the air
in order to arrest the course of the sun, whose rays had no effect upon
him. (The cloud rises from the mountain and hides the sun, which is unable
of itself to disperse it; the tempest comes, and brings flashes of
lightning and thunder-bolts, which tear the cloud in pieces.)
The whole legend of the monkey Hanumant represents the sun entering into
the cloud or darkness, and coming out of it. His father is said to be now
the wind, now the elephant of the monkeys (Kapikunjaras), now Keśarin, the
long-haired sun, the sun with a mane, the lion sun (whence his name of
_Keśariṇah putrah_). From this point of view, Hanumant would seem to be
the brother of Sugrívas, who is also the offspring of the sun.…
All the epic monkeys of the _Râmâyaṇam_ are described in the twentieth
canto of the first book by expressions which very closely resemble those
applied in the Vedic hymns to the Marutas, as swift as the tempestuous
wind, changing their shape at pleasure, making a noise like clouds,
sounding like thunder, battling, hurling mountain-peaks, shaking great
uprooted trees, stirring up the deep waters, crushing the earth with their
arms, making the clouds fall. Thus Bâlin comes out of the cavern as the
sun out of the cloud.…
But the legend of the monkey Hanumant presents another curious resemblance
to that of Samson. Hanumant is bound with cords by Indrajit, son of
Rávaṇas; he could easily free himself, but does not wish to do so. Rávaṇas
to put him to shame, orders his tail to be burned, because the tail is the
part most prized by monkeys.…
The tail of Hanumant, which sets fire to the city of the monsters, is
probably a personification of the rays of the morning or spring sun, which
sets fire to the eastern heavens, and destroys the abode of the nocturnal
or winter monsters.”
DE GUBERNATIS, _Zoological Mythology_, Vol. II. pp. 100 ff.
“The Jaitwas of Rajputana, a tribe politically reckoned as Rajputs,
nevertheless trace their descent from the monkey-god Hanuman, and confirm
it by alleging that their princes still bear its evidence in a tail-like
prolongation of the spine; a tradition which has probably a real
ethnological meaning, pointing out the Jaitwas as of non-Aryan
race.”(1040) TYLOR’S _Primitive Culture_, Vol. I. p. 341.
Page 372.
The names of peoples occurring in the following _ślokas_ are omitted in
the metrical translation:
“Go to the Brahmamálas,(1041) the Videhas,(1042) the Málavas,(1043) the
Káśikośalas,(1044) the Mágadnas,(1045) the Puṇḍras,(1046) and the
Angas,(1047) and the land of the weavers of silk, and the land of the
mines of silver, and the hills that stretch into the sea, and the towns
and the hamlets that are about the top of Mandar, and the
Karṇaprávaraṇas,(1048) and the Oshṭhakarṇakas,(1049) and the
Ghoralohamukhas,(1050) and the swift Ekapádakas,(1051) and the strong
imperishable Eaters of Men, and the Kirátas(1052) with stiff hair-tufts,
men like gold and fair to look upon: And the Eaters of Raw Fish, and the
Kirátas who dwell in islands, and the fierce Tiger-men(1053) who live amid
the waters.”
Page 374.
“Go to the Vidarbhas(1054) and the Rishṭikas(1055) and the
Mahishikas,(1056) and the Matsyas(1057) and Kalingas(1058) and the
Kauśikas(1059) … and the Andhras(1060) and the Puṇḍras(1061) and the
Cholas(1062) and the Paṇḍyas(1063) and the Keralas,(1064) Mlechchhas(1065)
and the Pulindas(1066) and the Śúrasenas,(1067) and the Prasthalas and the
Bharatas and Madrakas(1068) and the Kámbojas(1069) and the Yavanas(1070)
and the towns of the Śakas(1071) and the Varadas.”(1072)
Page 378. Northern Kurus.
Professor Lassen remarks in the Zeitschrift für die Kunde des
Morgenlandes, ii. 62: “At the furthest accessible extremity of the earth
appears Harivarsha with the northern Kurus. The region of Hari or Vishṇu
belongs to the system of mythical geography; but the case is different
with the Uttara Kurus. Here there is a real basis of geographical fact; of
which fable has only taken advantage, without creating it. The Uttara
Kurus were formerly quite independent of the mythical system of _dvípas_,
though they were included in it at an early date.” Again the same writer
says at p. 65: “That the conception of the Uttara Kurus is based upon an
actual country and not on mere invention, is proved (1) by the way in
which they are mentioned in the Vedas; (2) by the existence of Uttara Kuru
in historical times as a real country; and (3) by the way in which the
legend makes mention of that region as the home of primitive customs. To
begin with the last point the Mahábhárata speaks as follows of the freer
mode of life which women led in the early world, Book I. verses 4719-22:
‘Women were formerly unconfined and roved about at their pleasure,
independent. Though in their youthful innocence they abandoned their
husbands, they were guilty of no offence; for such was the rule in early
times. This ancient custom is even now the law for creatures born as
brutes, which are free from lust and anger. This custom is supported by
authority and is observed by great rishis, and it is _still practiced
among the northern Kurus_.’
“The idea which is here conveyed is that of the continuance in one part of
the world of that original blessedness which prevailed in the golden age.
To afford a conception of the happy condition of the southern Kurus it is
said in another place (M.-Bh, i. 4346.) ‘The southern Kurus vied in
happiness with the northern Kurus and with the divine rishis and bards.’