continued from previous issue
Tears of joy and mingled sorrow filled the Queen Kausalya’s eye, As she marked the faithful Sita true in heart, in virtue high, And she wept the tears of sadness when with sweet obeisance due, Spake with hands in meekness folded Rama ever good and true: “Sorrow not, my loving mother,
trust in virtue’s changeless beam, Swift will fly the years of exile like a brief and transient dream, Girt by faithful friends and forces, blest by righteous Gods above,
Thou shalt see thy son returning to thy bosom and thy love! Unto all the royal ladies Rama his obeisance paid, For his failings unremembered, blessings and forgiveness prayed,
And his words were soft and gentle, and they wept to see him go,
Like the piercing cry of curlew rose the piercing voice of woe, And in halls where drum and tabor rose in joy and regal pride, Voice of grief and lamentation sounded far and sounded wide!
Then the true and faithful Lakshman parted from each weeping dame, And to sorrowing Queen Sumitra with his due obeisance came, And he bowed to Queen Sumitra and his mother kissed his head,
Stilled her anguish-laden bosom and in trembling accents said: Dear devoted duteous Lakshman, ever to thy elder true, When thy elder wends to forest, forest-life to thee is due,
Thou hast served him true and faithful in his glory and his fame, This is Law for true and righteous,—serve him in his woe and shame, This is Law for race of Raghu known on earth for holy might, Bounteous in their sacred duty, brave and warlike in the fight! Therefore tend him as thy father,
as thy mother tend his wife, And to thee, like fair Ayodhya be thy humble forest life, Go, my son, the voice of Duty bids my gallant Lakshman go, Serve thy elder with devotion and with valour meet thy foe
CITIZENS’ LAMENT
Spake Sumantra chariot-driver waiting by the royal car, “Haste thee, mighty-destined Rama, for we wander long and far, Fourteen years in Dandak’s forest shall the righteous Rama stray, Such is Dasa-ratha’s mandate,
haste thee Rama and obey.” Queenly Sita bright-apparelled, with a strong and trusting heart,
Mounted on the car of splendour for the pathless woods to part,
And the king for needs providing gave her robes and precious store, For the many years of exile in a far and unknown shore, And a wealth of warlike weapons to the exiled princes gave,
Bow and dart and linkéd armour, sword and shield and lances brave. Then the gallant brothers mounted on the gold-emblazoned car, For unending was the journey and the wilderness was far,
Skilled Sumantra saw them seated, urged the swiftly-flying steed, Faster than the speed of tempest was the noble coursers’ speed. And they parted for the forest; like a long unending night,
Gloomy shades of grief and sadness deepened on the city’s might,
Mute and dumb but conscious creatures felt the woe the city bore, Horses neighed and shook their bright bells, elephants returned a roar! Man and boy and maid and matron followed Rama with their eye, As the thirsty seek the water when the parchéd fields are dry,
Clinging to the rapid chariot, by its side, before, behind, Tlironging men and wailing women wept for Rama good and kind: “Draw the reins, benign Sumantra, slowly drive the royal car,
We would once more see our Rama,
banished Iong and banished far, Iron-hearted is Kausalya from her Rama thus to part, Rends it not her mother’s bosom thus to see her son depart? True is righteous -hearted Sita cleaving to her husband still, As the ever present sunlight cleaves to Meru’s golden hill, Faithful and heroic Lakshman! thou hast by thy brother stood, And in duty still unchanging thou hast sought the pathless wood, Fixed in purpose,
true in valour,
mighty boon to thee is given, And the narrow path thou choosest is the righteous path to heaven!” Thus they spake in tears and anguish as they followed him apace, And their eyes were fixed on Rama, pride of Raghu’s royal race, Meanwhile ancient Dasa-ratha from his palace chamber came, With each weeping queen and consort, with each woe-distracted dame! And around the aged monarch rose the piercing voice of pain,
Like the wail of forest creatures when the forest-king is slain, And the faint and feeble monarch was with age and anguish pale, Like the darkened moon at eclipse when his light and radiance fail! Rama saw his ancient father with a faltering footstep go, Used to royal pomp and splendour,
stricken now by age and woe, Saw his mother faint and feeble to the speeding chariot hie, As the mother-cow returneth to her young that loiters by, Still she hastened to the chariot, “Rama! Rama!” was her cry, And a throb was in her bosom and a tear was in her eye! “Speed, Sumantra,” uttered Rama,
“from this torture let me part. Speed, my friend, this sight of sadness breaks a much-enduring heart, Heed not Dasa-ratha’s mandate, stop not for the royal train, Parting slow is lengthened sorrow like the sinner’s lengthened pain!” Sad Sumantra urged the coursers and the rapid chariot flew,
And the royal chiefs and courtiers round their fainting monarch drew, And they spake to Dasa-ratha: “Follow not thy banished son, He whom thou wouldst keep beside thee comes not till his task is done!” Dasa-ratha,
faint and feeble, listened to these words of pain, Stood and saw his son departing,–saw him not on earth again!
CROSSING THE TAMASA: THE CITIZENS’ RETURN
Evening’s thickening shades descended on Tamasa’s distant shore, Rama rested by the river, day of toilsome journey o’er, And Ayodhya’s loving people by the limpid river lay,
Sad and sorrowing they had followed Rama’s chariot through the day, “Soft-eyed Sita, faithful Lakshman,” thus the gentle Rama said,
“Hail the first night of our exile mantling us in welcome shade, Weeps the lone and voiceless forest,
and in darksome lair and nest, Feathered bird and forest creature seek their midnight’s wonted rest,
Weeps methinks our fair Ayodhya to her Rama ever dear, And perchance her men and women shed for us a silent tear, Loyal men and faithful women, they have loved their ancient king,
And his anguish and our exile will their gentle bosoms wring! Most I sorrow for my father and my mother loved and lost, Stricken by untimely anguish, by a cruel fortune crost,
But the good and righteous Bharat gently will my parents tend,And with fond and filial duty tender consolation lend,
to be continued
THE RAMAYANA
