Valmiki

Rámáyan of Válmíki (World's Classics Series)


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Queen.

      With noblest sort of drink and meat,

      The fairest rice and golden wheat,

      And fragrant with the chaplet’s scent

      With holy oil and incense blent.

      With many an elephant and steed,

      And wains for draught and cars for speed.

      With envoys sent by distant kings,

      And merchants with their precious things

      With banners o’er her roofs that play,

      All warlike engines framed by man,

      And every class of artisan.

      A city rich beyond compare

      With bards and minstrels gathered there,

      And men and damsels who entrance

      The soul with play and song and dance.

      In every street is heard the lute,

      The drum, the tabret, and the flute,

      The Veda chanted soft and low,

      The ringing of the archer’s bow;

      With bands of godlike heroes skilled

      In every warlike weapon, filled,

      And kept by warriors from the foe,

      There wisest Bráhmans evermore

      The flame of worship feed,

      And versed in all the Vedas’ lore,

      Their lives of virtue lead.

      Truthful and pure, they freely give;

      They keep each sense controlled,

      And in their holy fervour live

      Like the great saints of old.

      Manu as a legislator is identified with the Cretan Minos, as progenitor of mankind with the German Mannus: “Celebrant carminibus antiquis, quod unum apud illos memoriæ et annalium genus est, Tuisconem deum terra editum, et filium Mannum, originem gentis conditoresque.” Tacitus, Germania, Cap. II.

      Canto 6. The King.

      There reigned a king of name revered,

      To country and to town endeared,

      Great Daśaratha, good and sage,

      Well read in Scripture’s holy page:

      Upon his kingdom’s weal intent,

      Mighty and brave and provident;

      The pride of old Ikshváku’s seed

      For lofty thought and righteous deed.

      Peer of the saints, for virtues famed,

      For foes subdued and passions tamed:

      A rival in his wealth untold

      Of Indra and the Lord of Gold.

      Like Manu first of kings, he reigned,

      And worthily his state maintained.

      For firm and just and ever true

      Love, duty, gain he kept in view,

      And ruled his city rich and free,

      Like Indra’s Amarávatí.

      And worthy of so fair a place

      There dwelt a just and happy race

      With troops of children blest.

      Each man contented sought no more,

      Nor longed with envy for the store

      By richer friends possessed.

      For poverty was there unknown,

      And each man counted as his own

      Kine, steeds, and gold, and grain.

      All dressed in raiment bright and clean,

      And every townsman might be seen

      With earrings, wreath, or chain.

      None deigned to feed on broken fare,

      And none was false or stingy there.

      A piece of gold, the smallest pay,

      Was earned by labour for a day.

      On every arm were bracelets worn,

      And none was faithless or forsworn,

      A braggart or unkind.

      None lived upon another’s wealth,

      None pined with dread or broken health,

      Or dark disease of mind.

      High-souled were all. The slanderous word,

      The boastful lie, were never heard.

      Each man was constant to his vows,

      And lived devoted to his spouse.

      No other love his fancy knew,

      And she was tender, kind, and true.

      Her dames were fair of form and face,

      With charm of wit and gentle