Rámáyan of Válmíki (World's Classics Series). Valmiki

12 Parjanya, sometimes confounded with Indra.

13 The bird and vehicle of Vishṇu. He is generally represented as a being something between a man and a bird and considered as the sovereign of the feathered race. He may be compared with the Simurgh of the Persians, the ‘Anká of the Arabs, the Griffin of chivalry, the Phœnix of Egypt, and the bird that sits upon the ash Yggdrasil of the Edda.

14 This Canto will appear ridiculous to the European reader. But it should be remembered that the monkeys of an Indian forest, the “bough-deer” as the poets call them, are very different animals from the “turpissima bestia” that accompanies the itinerant organ-grinder or grins in the Zoological Gardens of London. Milton has made his hero, Satan, assume the forms of a cormorant, a toad, and a serpent, and I cannot see that this creation of semi-divine Vánars, or monkeys, is more ridiculous or undignified.

      Canto 17. Rishyasring’s Return.

      Now when the high-souled monarch’s rite,

      The Aśvamedh, was finished quite,

      Their sacrificial dues obtained,

      The Gods their heavenly homes regained.

      The lofty-minded saints withdrew,

      Each to his place, with honour due,

      And kings and chieftains, one and all,

      Who came to grace the festival.

      And Daśaratha, ere they went,

      Addressed them thus benevolent:

      “Now may you, each with joyful heart,

      To your own realms, O Kings, depart.

      Peace and good luck attend you there,

      And blessing, is my friendly prayer;

      Let cares of state each mind engage

      To guard his royal heritage.

      A monarch from his throne expelled

      No better than the dead is held.

      So he who cares for power and might

      Must guard his realm and royal right.

      Such care a meed in heaven will bring

      Better than rites and offering.

      Such care a king his country owes

      As man upon himself bestows,

      When for his body he provides

      Raiment and every need besides.

      For future days should kings foresee,

      And keep the present error-free.”

      Thus did the king the kings exhort:

      They heard, and turned them from the court

      And, each to each in friendship bound,

      Went forth to all the realms around.

      The rites were o’er, the guests were sped:

      The train the best of Bráhmans led,

      In which the king with joyful soul,

      With his dear wives, and with the whole

      Of his imperial host and train

      Of cars and servants turned again,

      And, as a monarch dear to fame,

      Within his royal city came.

      Next, Rishyaśring, well-honoured sage,

      And Śántá, sought their hermitage.

      The king himself, of prudent mind,

      Attended him, with troops behind.

      And all her men the town outpoured

      With Saint Vaśishṭha and their lord.

      High mounted on a car of state,

      O’er canopied fair Śántá sate.

      Drawn by white oxen, while a band

      Of servants marched on either hand.

      Great gifts of countless price she bore,

      With sheep and goats and gems in store.

      Like Beauty’s self the lady shone

      With all the jewels she had on,

      As, happy in her sweet content,

      Peerless amid the fair she went.

Not Queen Paulomí‘s1 self could be

      More loving to her lord than she.

      She who had lived in happy ease,

      Honoured with all her heart could please,

      While dames and kinsfolk ever vied

      To see her wishes gratified,

      Soon as she knew her husband’s will

      Again to seek the forest, still

      Was ready for the hermit’s cot,

      Nor murmured at her altered lot.

      The king attended to the wild

      That hermit and his own dear child,

      And in the centre of a throng

      Of noble courtiers rode along.

      The sage’s son had let prepare

      A lodge within the wood, and there

      While they lingered blithe and gay.

      Then, duly honoured, went their way.

      The glorious hermit Rishyaśring

      Drew near and thus besought the king:

      “Return, my honoured lord, I pray,

      Return, upon thy homeward way.”

      The monarch, with the waiting crowd,

      Lifted his voice and wept aloud,

      And with eyes dripping still to each

      Of his good queens he spake this speech:

      “Kauśalyá and Sumitrá dear,

      And thou, my sweet Kaikeyí, hear.

      All upon Śántá feast your gaze,

      The last time for a length of days.”

      To Śántá‘s arms the ladies leapt,

      And hung about her neck and wept,

      And cried, “O, happy be the life

      Of this great Bráhman and his wife.

      The Wind, the Fire, the Moon on high,

      The Earth, the Streams, the circling Sky,

      Preserve thee in the wood, true spouse,

      Devoted to thy husband’s vows.

      And O dear Śántá, ne’er neglect

      To pay the dues of meek respect

      To the great saint, thy husband’s sire,

      With all observance and with fire.

      And, sweet one, pure of spot and blame,

      Forget not thou thy husband’s claim;

      In every change, in good and ill,

      Let