Canto XIV: Rávan Doomed

The saint, well-read in holy lore, Pondered awhile his answer o'er, And thus again addressed the King, His wandering thoughts regathering:-- "Another rite will I begin Which shall the sons thou cravest win, Where all things shall be duly sped And first Atharva texts be read."

Then by Vibhándak's gentle son Was that high sacrifice begun, The King's advantage seeking still And zealous to perform his will. Now all the Gods had gathered there, Each one for his allotted share-- Brahmá, the ruler of the sky, Sthánu, Náráyan, Lord most high, And holy Indra men might view With Maruts for his retinue; The heavenly chorister, and saint, And spirit pure from earthly taint, With one accord had sought the place The high-souled monarch's rite to grace, Then to the Gods who came to take Their proper share, the hermit spake:-- "For you has Daśaratha slain The votive steed, a son to gain; Stern penance-rites the King has tried, And in firm faith on you relied, And now with undiminished care A second rite would fain prepare. But, O ye Gods, consent to grant The longing of your supplicant. For him beseeching hands I lift, And pray you all to grant the gift, That four fair sons of high renown The offerings of the King may crown." They to the hermit's son replied:-- "His longing shall be gratified. For, Bráhman, in most high degree We love the King and honor thee."

These words the Gods in answer said, And vanished thence, by Indra led. Thus to the Lord, the worlds who made, The Immortals all assembled prayed:-- "O Brahmá, mighty by thy grace, Rávan, who rules the giant race, Torments us in his senseless pride, And penance-loving saints beside. For thou well pleased in days of old Gavest the boon that makes him bold, That God nor demon e'er should kill His charmed life, for so thy will. We, honoring that high behest, Bear all his rage though sore distressed. That lord of giants fierce and fell Scourges the earth and heaven and hell. Mad with thy boon, his impious rage Smites saint and bard and God and sage. The sun himself withholds his glow, The wind in fear forbears to blow; The fire restrains his wonted heat Where stand the dreaded Rávan's feet, And, necklaced with the wandering wave, The sea before him fears to rave. Kuvera's self in sad defeat Is driven from his blissful seat. We see, we feel the giant's might, And woe comes o'er us and affright. To thee, O Lord, thy suppliants pray To find some cure this plague to stay."

Thus by the gathered Gods addressed He pondered in his secret breast, And said: "One only way I find To slay this fiend of evil mind. He prayed me once his life to guard From demon, God, and heavenly bard, And spirits of the earth and air, And I consenting heard his prayer. But the proud giant in his scorn Recked not of man of woman born. None else may take his life away, But only man the fiend may slay."

The Gods, with Indra at their head, Rejoiced to hear the words he said. Then, crowned with glory like a flame, Lord Vishnu to the council came; His hands shell, mace, and discus bore, And saffron were the robes he wore. Riding his eagle through the crowd, As the sun rides upon a cloud, With bracelets of fine gold, he came, Loud welcomed by the Gods' acclaim. His praise they sang with one consent, And cried, in lowly reverence bent:-- "O Lord whose hand fierce Madhu slew, Be thou our refuge, firm and true; Friend of the suffering worlds art thou, We pray thee help thy suppliants now." Then Vishnu spake: "Ye Gods, declare, What may I do to grant your prayer?"

"King Daśaratha," thus cried they, "Fervent in penance many a day, The sacrificial steed has slain, Longing for sons, but all in vain. Now, at the cry of us forlorn, Incarnate as his seed be born. Three queens has he--each lovely dame Like Beauty, Modesty, or Fame. Divide thyself in four, and be His offspring by these noble three. Man's nature take, and slay in fight Rávan who laughs at heavenly might-- This common scourge, this rankling thorn Whom the three worlds too long have borne. For Rávan, in the senseless pride Of might unequalled, has defied The host of heaven, and plagues with woe Angel and bard and saint below, Crushing each spirit and each maid Who plays in Nandan's heavenly shade. O conquering Lord, to thee we bow; Our surest hope and trust art thou. Regard the world of men below, And slay the God's tremendous foe."

When thus the suppliant Gods had prayed, His wise reply Náráyan made:-- "What task demands my presence there, And when this dread, ye Gods declare." The Gods replied: "We fear, O Lord, Fierce Rávan, ravener abhorred. Be thine the glorious task, we pray, In human form this fiend to slay. By thee of all the Blest alone This sinner may be overthrown. He gained by penance long and dire The favor of the mighty Sire. Then He who every gift bestows Guarded the fiend from heavenly foes, And gave a pledge his life that kept From all things living, man except. On him thus armed no other foe Than man may deal the deadly blow. Assume, O King, a mortal birth, And strike the demon to the earth."

Then Vishnu, God of Gods, the Lord Supreme by all the worlds adored, To Brahmá and the suppliants spake:-- "Dismiss your fear: for your dear sake In battle will I smite him dead, The cruel fiend, the Immortal's dread. And lords and ministers and all His kith and kin with him shall fall. Then, in the world of mortal men, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten I as a human King will reign, And guard the earth as my domain." God, saint, and nymph, and minstrel throng With heavenly voices raised their song In hymns of triumph to the God Whose conquering feet on Madhu trod:---

"Champion of Gods, as man appear, This cruel Rávan slay, The thorn that saints and hermits fear, The plague that none can stay. In savage fury uncontrolled His pride forever grows-- He dares the Lord of Gods to hold Among his deadly foes."