Canto XIX: The Birth Of The Princes

The seasons six, in rapid flight, Had circled since that glorious rite. Eleven months had passed away-- 'Twas Chaitra's ninth returning day. The moon within that mansion shone Which Aditi looks so kindly on. Raised to their apex in the sky Five brilliant planets beamed on high. Shone with the moon, in Cancer's sign, Vrihaspati with light divine. Kauśalyá bore an infant blest With heavenly marks of grace impressed; Ráma, the universe's lord, A prince by all the worlds adored. New glory Queen Kauśalyá won Reflected from her splendid son. So Aditi shone more and more, The Mother of the Gods, when she The King of the Immortals bore, The thunder-wielding deity. The lotus-eyed, the beauteous boy, He came fierce Rávan to destroy; From half of Vishnu's vigor born, He came to help the worlds forlorn. And Queen Kaikeyí bore a child Of truest valor, Bharat styled, With every princely virtue blest, One-fourth of Vishnu manifest. Sumitrá too a noble pair, Called Lakshman and Śatrughna, bare, Of high emprise, devoted, true, Sharers in Vishnu's essence too. 'Neath Pushya's mansion, Mína's sign, Was Bharat born, of soul benign. The sun had reached the Crab at morn When Queen Sumitrá's babes were born, What time the moon had gone to make His nightly dwelling with the Snake. The high-souled monarch's consorts bore At different times those glorious four, Like to himself and virtuous, bright As Proshthapadá's fourfold light.

Then danced the nymphs' celestial throng, The minstrels raised their strain; The drums of heaven pealed loud and long, And flowers came down in rain. Within Ayodhyá, blithe and gay, All kept the joyous holiday. The spacious square, the ample road With mimes and dancers overflowed, And with the voice of music rang Where minstrels played and singers sang-- And shone, a wonder to behold, With dazzling show of gems and gold. Nor did the King his largess spare, For minstrel, driver, bard, to share; Much wealth the Bráhmans bore away, And many thousand kine that day. Soon as each babe was twelve days old Twas time the naming rite to hold, When Saint Vaśishtha, rapt with joy, Assigned a name to every boy. Ráma, to him the high-souled heir, Bharat, to him Kaikeyí bare-- Of Queen Sumitrá one fair son Was Lakshman, and Śatrughna one. Ráma, his sire's supreme delight, Like some proud banner cheered his sight, And to all creatures seemed to be The self-existent deity. All heroes, versed in holy lore, To all mankind great love they bore. Fair stores of wisdom all possessed, With princely graces all were blest. But mid those youths of high descent, With lordly light preëminent, Like the full moon unclouded shone Ráma, the world's dear paragon. He best the elephant could guide, Urge the fleet car, the charger ride-- A master he of bowman's skill, Joying to do his father's will. The world's delight and darling, he Loved Lakshman best from infancy; And Lakshman, lord of lofty fate, Upon his elder joyed to wait, Striving his second self to please With friendship's sweet observances. His limbs the hero ne'er would rest Unless the couch his brother pressed; Except beloved Ráma shared He could not taste the meal prepared. When Ráma, pride of Raghu's race, Sprang on his steed to urge the chase, Behind him Lakshman loved to go And guard him with his trusty bow. As Ráma was to Lakshman dear More than his life and ever near, So fond Śatrughna prized above His very life his Bharat's love. Illustrious heroes, nobly kind In mutual love they all combined, And gave their royal sire delight With modest grace and warrior might; Supported by the glorious four Shone Daśaratha more and more, As though, with every guardian God Who keeps the land and skies, The Father of all creatures trod The earth before men's eyes.