The Ramayana (Bala Kanda), opened as a book

Om.

To sainted Nárad, prince of those Whose lore in words of wisdom flows, Whose constant care and chief delight Were Scripture and ascetic rite, The good Válmíki, first and best Of hermit saints, these words addressed:-- "In all this world, I pray thee, who Is virtuous, heroic, true? Firm in his vows, of grateful mind, To every creature good and kind? Bounteous, and holy, just, and wise, Alone most fair to all men's eyes? Devoid of envy, firm, and sage, Whose tranquil soul ne'er yields to rage? Whom, when his warrior wrath is high, Do Gods embattled fear and fly? Whose noble might and gentle skill The triple world can guard from ill? Who is the best of princes, he Who loves his people's good to see? The store of bliss, the living mine Where brightest joys and virtues shine? Queen Fortune's best and dearest friend, Whose steps her choicest gifts attend? Who may with Sun and Moon compare, With Indra, Vishnu, Fire, and Air? Grant, Saint divine, the boon I ask, For thee, I ween, an easy task, To whom the power is given to know If such a man breathe here below."

Then Nárad, clear before whose eye The present, past, and future lie, Made ready answer: "Hermit, where Are graces found so high and rare? Yet listen, and my tongue shall tell In whom alone these virtues dwell. From old Ikshváku's line he came, Known to the world by Ráma's name:-- With soul subdued, a chief of might, In Scripture versed, in glory bright. His steps in virtue's paths are bent, Obedient, pure, and eloquent. In each emprise he wins success, And dying foes his power confess. Tall and broad-shouldered, strong of limb, Fortune has set her mark on him. Graced with a conch-shell's triple line, His throat displays the auspicious sign. High destiny is clear impressed On massive jaw and ample chest. His mighty shafts he truly aims, And foemen in the battle tames. Deep in the muscle, scarcely shown, Embedded lies his collar-bone. His lordly steps are firm and free, His strong arms reach below his knee; All fairest graces join to deck His head, his brow, his stately neck, And limbs in fair proportion set:-- The manliest form e'er fashioned yet. Graced with each high imperial mark, His skin is soft and lustrous dark. Large are his eyes that sweetly shine With majesty almost divine. His plighted word he ne'er forgets; On erring sense a watch he sets. By nature wise, his teacher's skill Has trained him to subdue his will. Good, resolute and pure, and strong, He guards mankind from scathe and wrong, And lends his aid, and ne'er in vain, The cause of justice to maintain. Well has he studied o'er and o'er The Vedas and their kindred lore. Well skilled is he the bow to draw, Well trained in arts and versed in law; High-souled and meet for happy fate, Most tender and compassionate; The noblest of all lordly givers, Whom good men follow, as the rivers Follow the King of Floods, the sea:-- So liberal, so just is he. The joy of Queen Kauśalyá's heart, In every virtue he has part; Firm as Himálaya's snowy steep, Unfathomed like the mighty deep; The peer of Vishnu's power and might, And lovely as the Lord of Night; Patient as Earth, but, roused to ire, Fierce as the world-destroying fire; In bounty like the Lord of Gold, And Justice' self in human mould. With him, his best and eldest son, By all his princely virtues won King Daśaratha willed to share His kingdom as the Regent Heir. But when Kaikeyí, youngest queen, With eyes of envious hate had seen The solemn pomp and regal state Prepared the prince to consecrate, She bade the hapless king bestow Two gifts he promised long ago, That Ráma to the woods should flee, And that her child the heir should be.

By chains of duty firmly tied, The wretched King perforce complied. Ráma, to please Kaikeyí went Obedient forth, to banishment. Then Lakshman's truth was nobly shown, Then were his love and courage known, When for his brother's sake he dared All perils, and his exile shared. And Sítá, Ráma's darling wife, Loved even as he loved his life, Whom happy marks combined to bless, A miracle of loveliness, Of Janak's royal lineage sprung, Most excellent of women, clung To her dear lord, like Rohiní Rejoicing with the Moon to be. The King and people, sad of mood, The hero's car awhile pursued. But when Prince Ráma lighted down At Śringavera's pleasant town, Where Gangá's holy waters flow, He bade his driver turn and go. Guha, Nishádas' King, he met, And on the farther bank was set. Then on from wood to wood they strayed, O'er many a stream, through constant shade, As Bharadvája bade them, till They came to Chitrakúta's hill. And Ráma there, with Lakshman's aid, A pleasant little cottage made, And spent his days with Sítá, dressed In coat of bark and deerskin vest. And Chitrakúta grew to be As bright with those illustrious three As Meru's sacred peaks that shine With glory, when the Gods recline Beneath them: Śiva's self between The Lord of Gold and Beauty's Queen.

The aged King for Ráma pined, And for the skies the earth resigned. Bharat, his son, refused to reign, Though urged by all the twice-born train. Forth to the woods he fared to meet His brother, fell before his feet, And cried "Thy claim all men allow:-- O come, our lord and King be thou." But Ráma nobly chose to be Observant of his sire's decree. He placed his sandals in his hand, A pledge that he would rule the land:-- And bade his brother turn again. Then Bharat, finding prayer was vain, The sandals took and went away; Nor in Ayodhyá would he stay, But turned to Nandigráma, where He ruled the realm with watchful care, Still longing eagerly to learn Tidings of Ráma's safe return.

Then lest the people should repeat Their visit to his calm retreat, Away from Chitrakúta's hill Fared Ráma, ever onward till Beneath the shady trees he stood Of Dandaká's primeval wood. Virádha, giant fiend, he slew, And then Agastya's friendship knew. Counselled by him he gained the sword And bow of Indra, heavenly lord:-- A pair of quivers too, that bore Of arrows an exhaustless store. While there he dwelt in greenwood shade, The trembling hermits sought his aid, And bade him with his sword and bow Destroy the fiends who worked them woe:-- To come like Indra strong and brave, A guardian God to help and save. And Ráma's falchion left its trace Deep cut on Súrpanakhá's face:-- A hideous giantess who came Burning for him with lawless flame. Their sister's cries the giants heard, And vengeance in each bosom stirred; The monster of the triple head, And Dúshan to the contest sped. But they and myriad fiends beside Beneath the might of Ráma died.

When Rávan, dreaded warrior, knew The slaughter of his giant crew-- Rávan, the King, whose name of fear Earth, hell, and heaven all shook to hear-- He bade the fiend Márícha aid The vengeful plot his fury laid. In vain the wise Márícha tried To turn him from his course aside:-- Not Rávan's self, he said, might hope With Ráma and his strength to cope. Impelled by fate and blind with rage He came to Ráma's hermitage. There, by Márícha's magic art, He wiled the princely youths apart, The vulture slew, and bore away The wife of Ráma as his prey. The son of Raghu came and found Jatáyu slain upon the ground. He rushed within his leafy cot; He sought his wife, but found her not. Then, then the hero's senses failed; In mad despair he wept and wailed. Upon the pile that bird he laid, And still in quest of Sítá strayed. A hideous giant then he saw, Kabandha named, a shape of awe.

The monstrous fiend he smote and slew, And in the flame the body threw; When straight from out the funeral flame In lovely form Kabandha came, And bade him seek in his distress A wise and holy hermitess. By counsel of this saintly dame To Pampá's pleasant flood he came, And there the steadfast friendship won Of Hanumán the Wind-God's son. Counselled by him he told his grief To great Sugríva, Vánar chief, Who, knowing all the tale, before The sacred flame alliance swore. Sugríva to his new-found friend Told his own story to the end:-- His hate of Báli for the wrong And insult he had borne so long. And Ráma lent a willing ear And promised to allay his fear. Sugríva warned him of the might Of Báli, matchless in the fight, And, credence for his tale to gain, Showed the huge fiend by Báli slain. The prostrate corse of mountain size Seemed nothing in the hero's eyes; He lightly kicked it, as it lay, And cast it twenty leagues away. To prove his might his arrows through Seven palms in line, uninjured, flew. He cleft a mighty hill apart, And down to hell he hurled his dart. Then high Sugríva's spirit rose, Assured of conquest o'er his foes. With his new champion by his side To vast Kishkindhá's cave he hied. Then, summoned by his awful shout, King Báli came in fury out, First comforted his trembling wife, Then sought Sugríva in the strife. One shaft from Ráma's deadly bow The monarch in the dust laid low. Then Ráma bade Sugríva reign In place of royal Báli slain. Then speedy envoys hurried forth Eastward and westward, south and north, Commanded by the grateful King Tidings of Ráma's spouse to bring. Then by Sampáti's counsel led, Brave Hanumán, who mocked at dread, Sprang at one wild tremendous leap Two hundred leagues, across the deep. To Lanká's town he urged his way, Where Rávan held his royal sway. There pensive 'neath Aśoka boughs He found poor Sítá, Ráma's spouse. He gave the hapless girl a ring, A token from her lord and King. A pledge from her fair hand he bore; Then battered down the garden door. Five captains of the host he slew, Seven sons of councillors o'erthrew; Crushed youthful Aksha on the field, Then to his captors chose to yield. Soon from their bonds his limbs were free, But honoring the high decree Which Brahmá had pronounced of yore, He calmly all their insults bore. The town he burnt with hostile flame, And spoke again with Ráma's dame, Then swiftly back to Ráma flew With tidings of the interview.

Then with Sugríva for his guide, Came Ráma to the ocean side. He smote the sea with shafts as bright As sunbeams in their summer height, And quick appeared the River's King Obedient to the summoning. A bridge was thrown by Nala o'er The narrow sea from shore to shore. They crossed to Lanká's golden town, Where Ráma's hand smote Rávan down. Vibhíshan there was left to reign Over his brother's wide domain. To meet her husband Sítá came; But Ráma, stung with ire and shame, With bitter words his wife addressed Before the crowd that round her pressed. But Sítá, touched with noble ire, Gave her fair body to the fire. Then straight the God of Wind appeared, And words from heaven her honor cleared. And Ráma clasped his wife again, Uninjured, pure from spot and stain, Obedient to the Lord of Fire And the high mandate of his sire. Led by the Lord who rules the sky, The Gods and heavenly saints drew nigh, And honored him with worthy meed, Rejoicing in each glorious deed. His task achieved, his foe removed, He triumphed, by the Gods approved. By grace of Heaven he raised to life The chieftains slain in mortal strife; Then in the magic chariot through The clouds to Nandigráma flew. Met by his faithful brothers there, He loosed his votive coil of hair; Thence fair Ayodhyá's town he gained, And o'er his father's kingdom reigned. Disease or famine ne'er oppressed His happy people, richly blest With all the joys of ample wealth, Of sweet content and perfect health. No widow mourned her well-loved mate, No sire his son's untimely fate. They feared not storm or robber's hand, No fire or flood laid waste the land: The Golden Age seemed come again To bless the days of Ráma's reign. From him the great and glorious King, Shall many a princely scion spring. And he shall rule, beloved by men, Ten thousand years and hundreds ten, And when his life on earth is past To Brahmá's world shall go at last.

Whoe'er this noble poem reads That tells the tale of Ráma's deeds, Good as the Scriptures, he shall be From every sin and blemish free. Whoever reads the saving strain, With all his kin the heavens shall gain. Bráhmans who read shall gather hence The highest praise for eloquence. The warrior, o'er the land shall reign, The merchant, luck in trade obtain; And Súdras, listening, ne'er shall fail To reap advantage from the tale.

[Cantos II., III., IV., and V. are omitted.]

Ceylon.

End of section ॥