Dasa-ratha on his brother choicest gifts and honours pressed. Southern India took the lead, and a translation of the Ramayana in the Tamil language appeared as early as 1100 ad Northern India and Bengal and Bombay followed the example; Tulasi Das’s Ramayana is the great classic of the Hindi language, Krittibas’s Ramayana is a classic in the Bengali language, and Sridhar’s Ramayana is a classic in the Mahratta language. Bark of trees shall be thy raiment and thy home the hermit’s cell. Bow, bow, to bright Ayodhya! Measureless to wedded woman is her lord and husband’s love. Hanuman shall die a victim,—tale of shame he shall not tell! Kuru owns another master and Duryodhan’s day is fled. Royal guests and princely suitors came in pomp of wealth and pride. In those days an Indian youth who had felt the call of the West encountered the sternest opposition, from both his own family and the community, if he avowed his ambition of making the voyage to Europe. Lost his kingdom, in the forest dwells the monarch faint and weak, Turn, Savitri, living mortal may not with King. Yudhishthir presented himself as a Brahman, skilled in dice, and became a courtier of the king. Till they fall upon the heedless, quick to slaughter and to slay. Sorrow brings no shame to mortals who are free from sin and guile! Ere the crimson morning glittered proud Duryodhan sad at heart. Cold nor rigid are their features, darkness dwells not on their brow, Weep not thus, my gentle Sita,—hasten we to Lanka now.”. Give us then thy holy blessings, friend and father, ere we part, Blessings from the true and righteous brace the feeble, fainting heart.”. Shew it to Ayodhya’s princes, speak to them my kingly vow!”. But the prince went not to battle from the foe to guard the State. Unto Kuru’s sightless monarch wise Vidura drew the scene. Rama dreads no rising danger from the twins, the youngest-born. Car-borne chiefs and mailéd warriors came to win the beauteous bride! May my lord return in safety, and a thousand fattened kine. As the Moon with streaks of silver fills the lonely midnight sky. Spake of midnight’s darksome contest, Rama’s death and Lakshman’s fall. Brahmans versed in sacred lore. And the Pandavs looked despairing on the battle’s dread array. Torn by anger strong as tempest thus her answer she addrest: “Are these mocking accents uttered, Rama, to insult my flame. Gaily with the gathered wild-fruits did the prince his basket fill. Who with daring slight or insult seeks to cause thy bosom smart? His voice was drowned in the cries of more violent advisers. Gloomy shades of grief and sadness deepened on the city’s might. Short and fierce the furious combat; six pale princes turned and fled. Kumbha-karna, lifeless, headless, rolled upon the gory bed. Sita, thou hast heard my elder bid me in this cottage stay. The talented and indefatigable Mr. Ralph Griffith, C.I.E., who has devoted a lifetime to translating Indian poetry into English, has produced an almost complete translation of the first six Books in more than 24,000 English couplets, and has given an abstract of the seventh Book in prose. Fierce and dubious was the battle, answering clouds gave back the din. Wherefore then this dismal forest doth thy fairy face adorn, Who art thou and whence descended, nymph or maid or goddessborn?”, “Listen, Brahman!” answered Sita,—unsuspecting in her mind, That she saw a base betrayer in a hermit seeming kind,—. And the sound of stifled laughter circled round the festive ground! Render to the lord his consort ere with blood of Rakshas slain. Every Aryan boy in India was taken away from his parents at an early age, and lived the hard life of an anchorite under his teacher for twelve or twenty-four or thirty-six years, before he entered the married life and settled down as a householder. Bhima and the gallant Arjun led once more the van of war. “Perish she!” exclaimed the monarch, “she-wolf Sita dies to-day, Indrajit but cleft her image, Ravan will the woman slay!”. Peerless in their godlike wisdom are these chiefs in peace or strife. Parting blessings spake Yudhishthir, “Elder of the Kuru line. With the ancient Kuru monarch and Vidura good and wise. Save the tiger-waisted Bhima none can claim such strength of hand! As your own, command my treasure, costly gifts and wealth untold, To the poor and to the worthy scatter free my gems and gold!”. And the concourse of the monarchs view the splendour of the rite. Stronger by his elder’s blessing Arjun mounts the battle-car, Krishna drives the milk-white coursers to the thickening ranks of war. Be it mine alone, O Arjun! Wherefore seeks thy ruthless rancour Rama rich in righteous grace. To the true and righteous Rama and to Lakshman young and bold. I would follow if my mother and my loving father speak. And the shelving banks of Ganga peopled by the sorrowing train. They shall nerve my heart to duty and shall safely guard thy own. Nathless thy advice for concord, wise preceptor, comes too late! Uprose Chedi’s haughty monarch, mightiest of the monarchs he. And while Karna lives and glories all our insults still are green. Steed and tusker turned from battle, soldiers fell among the dead. And he spake to gallant Karna with a loving fond embrace: “Welcome, mighty arméd chieftain! As a spark of fire consumeth summer’s parched and sapless wood. Vainly strove to force a passage, vainly sought their onward way! Like his teacher Par’su-Rama dyes in purple blood his course. Silken cloth of finest lustre o’er his crownéd head they spread. Young in years and rich in valour, for alas! According to the bet the defeated brothers agreed to live the life of exiles in forests for twelve years, and thereafter to spend one more year in disguise to escape detection. As he spake to ancient Bhishma words of wrath in bitter shame: “Bhishma! Matsya’s lord, Panchala’s monarch, vainly faced him in his wrath. And the righteous king Yudhishthir with the car-borne Salya fought. As from tough and gnarléd branches fast the crackling red sparks fly! From the hoofs of charging coursers, from the elephants of war. On her breast her arms she folded while the princes plied the oar. Take the course of sense and wisdom, cast all idle faith aside, Take the kingdom Bharat offers, rule Ayodhya in thy pride!”. And the peaceful happy nations prosper on their fertile soil! Side by side impelled their chariots where the palm-tree standard rose. Let thy few remaining brothers live,—for many are the lost. Godlike Krishna watched benignly with his bow and disc and mace. Sure thy fitful life is shadowed by a dark and dreadful fate. Janak spake his royal mandate to his lords and warriors bold: And his peers and proud retainers waiting on the monarch’s call. Blind to reason and to wisdom, Ravan, seek thy destined fate. Queen Kausalya first and foremost, Queen Sumitra rich in fame. In the whole of the Ramayana there is no character with the fiery determination and the deep-seated hatred for the foe which inspire Karna or Arjun, Bhima or Duryodhan. Yield to Krishna’s words of wisdom, for thy weal he nobly strives. And thy wifely deep devotion fills my heart with purpose high. Anguish woke in Sita’s bosom and a dimness filled her eye. Baffled by the skill of Drona, Dhrista-dyumna strove in vain! Death for thee in guise of Rama tarries yonder, not afar! Served the old and sightless monarch like a daughter by his side. Holy vows assumed the monarch and in penance passed his life. The Maha-bharata depicts the political life of Edition: current; Page: [189] ancient India, with all its valour and heroism, ambition and lofty chivalry. ’Gainst the death of race and kinsmen, ’gainst my lord and brother’s death. Still the princes shook their weapons, drove the deep resounding car. He would break his royal promise as a caitiff breaks his word. Not by fire and feeble weapons, but by treason of their kind, Not by javelin or arrow,—little for these arms they care,—. Didst thou hide the mighty warrior, mortal man of heavenly birth. Vainly hurled his lance Duryodhan ’gainst the valiant warrior’s face. Rama’s realm is Bharat’s kingdom, ruling partners they shall prove, For himself than for his brothers Rama owns no deeper love!”. “Rāgānāma Ramkrishna Bhāguvata,” an attempt to analyse the Mahabharata from the higher Brahminical standpoint. Harp is hushed within the dark tents and the voice of warlike song. Rama spake, and soft-eyed Sita, ever sweet in speech and word. And he slayed the deer of jungle and he slept in leafy shade.

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