The thought of piiin with exquisite deliglit.
Sam. Dismiss such melancholy thoughts; observe
The peafowl's glorious plumage, as he lights
Beneath yon copse — behold, through tufted grass
Where come the trooping deer, bounding to covert^
Nor fear the gaze of man : there cooling fall
The sparkling torrents ; as they flash beneath
The overhanging willows, or the boughs
Laden with fruit declining to the stream.
And vocal with innumerable choristers.
The she-bear growls along the flowei'y brinks
And from the incense bearing tree, the elephant
Snaps the light brand), and all its gum exudes.
And breathes rich perfume through the balmy air —
I quit thee Lord ; to visit with thy leave.
Ere I ascend to heaven, Agaslyas cell
Ram. Be thy path propitious.
\_Exit Samhuka,
'T was here that long and happily I dwelt.
Ere other duties, and the cares of empire
'( 44 )
Disturbed my tranquil joys — but such our lot —
Each various station has its proper claim —
The hermit's cahn suits not the rank of king,
Nor kingly state the peaceful hermitage.
Scenes of repose, with lavish nature graced ;
Haunts undisturbed of timid birds and deer ;
Streams decorated with the untrodden fringe
Of flowery blossoms, and luxuriant creepers,
I know ye well. Yon distant wavy ridge.
Like a faint line of low descending clouds,
Defines Prasruvana, whose lofty crest
Was once the vulture king, Jutayus, seat ;
And from whose sides precipitously falls
The broad Goddvcri — At the hill foot.
And on the margin of the stately wood.
Where tlie dark trees upon whose branches, bowed
Into the broad Godaveri, the birds
Sang sweet and oft, our leafy cottage stood.
And here is Panchdvali, long the witness
Of our contented stay, and the abode
Of Silas dearest friend the fair Vasanti
The kindly genius of these ancient Shades.
Alas, how changed my fortune — Sad I pine
In lonely widowhood— afRiction sheds
A deadly venom through my veins — despair
Like a barbed arrow shot into my heart
There sticks, and rankles in its cureless wound.
Let me beguile the hoiu', and try to lose
The memory of my sufferings, as I gaze
Once more on these dear scenes : yet even they
( 45 )
Are not unchanged : -where once the river flowed
A verdant bank extends, and where the trees,
Close wove, denied admittance to the day.
An open champain bares its breast: to heaven — j
Scarce could I deem the spot the same, but still
The mighty landmarks tower aloft, and round
The same tall mountains mingle witl; the skies.
\_Scnnb{ika returns,
Sam. Al! hail to Rdma—tlwxs A^astija wills —
His glorious spouse the tender Lopaviudrd,*
And all his pious household — having heard
Thy presence in these wilds, they pray to see thee
Ere thou reseek Ayodhyd.
Ram. Be it done.
Bear with me, PaJichavall, that obeying
The pleasure of the sage, I still presume
To trespass on thy confines.
Sam. Here lies our path — 3'onder is tall Kraunchdvat
Amidst the dark glens of whose wooded sides,
* Agastya having seen his She was named Lopamudra from
ancestors suspended by their the distinctive beauties (Mu-
lieeis in a pit, was told by thciu dra) of animals, as the eyes of
that they could only be ex- deer &ca. being subjected to
tricated from their position by Joss (Lopa) in her superior
his beo'etting a son. In order charms. When marriageable
to obtain a wife for this pur- »4gasti/a demanded her of her
pose, he made a girl of the father, and although sorely
most graceful parts of the ani- agiiinst liis will, the king was
nials of the forest and gave her, obliged to consent to her be-
without his privacy to the king coming the wife of the Sage.
of Fiderbha to be his daughter. Mahubhdrat Vanu Parva.
( 45 )
Tlie Raven numerous shrieks, and hoots the Owl,
And whines through whistling caves the shrilly breeze.
And coi.mtless Peafowl, with discordant shrieks.
Chase into sapless trunks, and time worn trees.
The frightened snakes. Far to the South extends
The lofty range of hills, whose towering peaks
Are diademed with clouds — whose central caverns
Roar loud with mighty waters, as from the earth
The springs of the Goddveri burst foith.
And at whose base, the sacred conflux blends
In one broad stream, the loud encountering torrents.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
ACT 111.
THE DANDAKA FOREST CONTINUES.
Enter Tumasd and Murala.
Two River Goddesses.
Tarn. How now, sister, whither btnt.
Mur. By the holy Mati'on sent,
Lopanmdra, charge of care
To Goddveri I bear.
Thus the Matron bids me say.
Rama still through many a clay
Though exterior calmness screen
His sorrow, deeply mourns his queen ;
And his declining form declares
The anguish that his bosom tears :
For soonest shall the soft heart pei'ish.
That loves a secret grief to cherish.
As gourds with coat of clay encased
Earliest into ripeness haste.
Brooding o'er his bosom's woes,
Rama now desponding goes
Through the forest confines, where
Every object wakes despair.
Fond, he lingers on each spot.
Speaking of a happier lot.
When delightedly he strayed
( 48 )
With his Sita, through the shade.
Happiness for ever flown.
Now he weeps, and weeps alone.
And such sad despairing mood,
Nursed by gloom and solitude,
Slay to fierce distraction gi'ow.
And the firmest mind o'erthroAV.
Lest such iiapiess chance befall
Thou i)!S sinking- sense recall.
Moistened by thy geiid spray
Ciooling breezes round him play :
Balmy with the lotus bloom
Shed the breeze its soft perfume;
So tliy friendship shall dispense,
Freshre.'S on each fading sense
Tam. 'Tis kindly done, but mightier art
To day performs its surer part.
Miir. What art.
Tam. Attend: 'tis not unknown
When 8ita Ixelpless and alone.
Left by Lakshmana, deplored
Her hapless fate and cruel lord;
The suddf n throes of nature came
Distracting, oe'r her tender frame.
And wild with agony she gave
Her beauties unto Ganga's wave.
Mnr. 'Tis true, and in the xnoment bore.
Two lovely boys — whom to the shore
Beneath the wave, the realms of shade,
'i he Goddess of tlic Stream conveyed :
C 49 )
And there with Earth's great goddess, tended.
With pious pains, till time liad ended.
The first and fond maternal care ;
Whea Gangu took the nursling pair.
To wise Valmiki's hermitage.
And gave them to tlie assenting sage.
Now grown in strength and sense, appears.
Each youth beyond his childish years.
Worthy his high imperial line.
The holy Sage and nurse divine.
Tam, And now, throughout the regions flies.
The fame, the fierce ascetic dies.
In Janasthdna's drear domain
By Rdmahhadra's falcliion slain;
And Lopamudru, Ramus grief
To Ganga sends his sure relief
The Goddess brings — she comes in haste
To see Goduvari embraced
Some fair pretext, she hither speeds.
And with her lovely Sitd leads.
Mur. 'Twas wisely thought — amidst affairs
Of empire, Ramas private cares
Are scattered — but whilst thus he wends.
And grief alone his steps attends.
He feels his loss— but what device
To Rama shall his ({ueen entice.
Tam. ' lis thus contrived— the Queen of floods
Sends Sitd to these ancient woods,
'J'o gather flowers, and with them pay
Devotion to the God of day,
( 50 )
From whose bright loins the glorious race
Of llaii/in their high Hneage trace.
And homage therefore should be done
This day to their great Sire, the Sun,
For that the lucky knot* has told.
Twelve years their rapid course have rolled,
Since, from the daughter of the Earth,
Kiisa and Lava drew their birth.
Go forth, exclaimed the Queen, my child
Nor fear the monsters of the wild,
Hy my command, the forest train
A guard around thee thall maintain;
By her behest too, I attend
Her tender pupil to defend.
From aught of harm, and hence am found
To day upon this holy ground.
JSIur. To Lopaniudra I depart,
Tlie blissful tidings to impart.
But "who comes here —
Tam "i'iriSild: mark —
IIow lovely througli her tresses dark
And floating loose, her fixce appears.
Though pale and wan, and wet with tears.
She moves along like Tenderness
Invested with a mortal dress ;
* The Mangala GrantJd. year of a person's life, in the
literally rendered in the text, string or thread which is wound
The cxpri'ssiou alludes to the round the paper scroll on which
prutlicc still i" list; amongst the the caleiihitions of his nativity
Hindus, of making a knot every are itiscrihed.
I 51 )
Or like embodied Grief, she shines^
That sad oer love in absence pines.
Mur. Bowed down by anxious tliought, she droops^
Like the soft lotus as it stoops
Its head, when some rude hand has broken
The slender stem — those sighs betoken
A labouring heart, and withering care
With wasteful hand is busy there
For every limb more fragile shows. .
So when the sun of autumn glows.
The tender leaflet languid lies.
Shrinks in the scorching blaze, and dies.
\^Ex'U Mvrald.
Enter Sild (as described) iv'Uh flowers.
Sita. 'Tis very strange — methought I heard the voice
Of my dear friend Vdsanii once again.
Voices in the wood. The elephant is Silas, whom the Queeu
With her own tender hands is wont to feed ;
And now he perishes — as to the stream
He with his mate repairs, a monstrous elephant.
Wild from the woods, approaches to assail liim.
SitU' Ah my dear Lord — haste, haste thee to preserve
My favorite from destruction — ah; the view
Of these familiar scenes, suggests to me
Phrases alike familiar once — but now—
Ah me — unhappy — (faints.)
Re-emter Tamasd.
Tarn. Revive my c\n\(S..— {recovering hei .)
Ram. (Without ) Here guider of the car—here stay
our coui"se.
( 52 >
Sita. What voice was that— oh — it comes o'er my soul.
Like the low muttering of the thundercloud.
That promises refreshing dews to earth.
And calls me back to life.
Tarn. What means this i-apture :
Why such delight from inarticulate sounds
Chance uttered —
Sila, Inarticulate, saidst thou :
To my enraptured ear it seemed
My dear lost Lord had uttered the blest sounds.
Tarn. It may be — for 'tis noised amongst mankind.
The subjugation of the ascetic Sudra,
Conducts the hero to this ancient forest.
Sita. Thus pays he faithfully the lofty dues
Ejfactcd by his station — but he comes—
Do I again behold him — yes 'tis he ;
His gait declares him — but how pale and thin.
Like the fast waning moon in morning skies. '
Oh support me {throws herself into the arms of Ta:na\u.)
Rain. (Rushing in. )'^ Goddess adored
Celestial daughter of FiJchas kings, f fulls fainting.^
Sita. Ah me — illfated — see his lotus eyes
Close at the sight of me — his deep distress
O'ermasters every sense — Oh save him ! save him !
\^To Tamasd-
Tarn. Dismiss your terrors — you can best restore him :
That gentle hand can bring liim back to life.
*■• la the original Rama is when they are again discovered,
supposed to fill! behind the or in the langniige of the text,
scenes and Sila goes out to him, Enter Rama fainted.
( ^^^ )
Silu. Say'st thou
{Kneels; takes one of Rama'. i handa in one oj hers, and
applies the other to his forehead.)
'Tis so — his spirits are recovering.
Ram. Whatshouldthismcan : the heavenly balm that wakes
The dead to Hfe is poured into my heart ;
Or from the moon, ambrosial dews descend.
Drop on my soul, and rouse me to existence.
Such is the power that well known touch possesses.
To change insensibility to life.
And cheer the chill of dark despair with hope.
Sita. (Withdraiiiii^) Oh this is much for me.
Ram. Why ; was it not
. My SUc'i that restored me.
Sita. Ah — my lord now seeks me
Ram. I will searth.
Sita. (To Tamasd) I must not meet
His gaze vincalled — He will be angry
That I approach him thus unbid,
Tam. Fear not
By Bhaguvati's powerfuU will, enshrined.
You walk unseen, even by the sylvan deities.
Ram. Sita — loved Sita — no — she is not here.
WJiere art thou flovv^n — or was it but a dream.
Oft has my fancy anxiously explored
]My Jdnaki's retreat, and noAv, illusively.
It finds her in these shade?.*
* A few speeches that f .'How also left out, as injurious to the
are here on.iltetl, ami several ftitcrest of the scene.
fiubsequeut passages have been
I 54 )
(Behind.) Help— Help
Or Silas elephant will be destroyed
ham. My Sita's favorite — who dares molest
The animal she loved.
Rises, and is going, Enter Vdsanli.
Vas. The pride of Raghu in these honoured groves
Hail, prince !
Sita. My friend Vasanli.
Rum. Do I see
My Silas dearest friend.
Vas. The same : but speed
To save the elephant — cross the Goddveri
Where SUd's name gives virtue to the ford.
Leaving Jatuyiis mountain on the right.
Sila. Alas, Jaluyu ;
The forest is a Avaste deprived of thee.
Ram. How many recollections do these names
Sadly recall.
Vas. No more delay — quick follow me —
[^Exeunt.
Sila. Tell me, dear Tamnsd, cannot in sooth
The wood nymphs see me.
Ta7n. V/hat should you doubt —
The might of Gungd far exceeds the power
Of every deit}'^.
Sila. Then let us follow
My lordj and my dear friend.
^^Exeiini.
C 55 )
THE BANKS OF THE GODAVERI.
Enter Kama and Vdsanti and ajlcnvurds Silci and Tamasd.
Ram. Glory Xo Goduvcr't.
Vas. Now, Prince, secure
The victory to him, w iiom as a child
Thy princess fondly cherished.
Ram. Live and conquer.
J^ns. 'Tis even thus — he triumphs o'er his foe.
Ram. Fate, Sild, has obeyed thee, and the elephant.
Whose sportive frolic pilfered from thine ears.
With blithe and slender trunk, the lotus fibres.
Their fragrant pendants — now in earliest youth.
Defies the mighty monarch of the woods.
Nor less his tenderness than prowess— Mark
The arts he practises to gain the favour
Of his loved mate — as he imbibes the wave
Perfumed with lotus buds, and with his trunk.
Sprinkles the fragrant dews upon her form.
Or rears the broad leaf of the lotus, high
Above her head, to screen her from the Sun
Sila. Well pleased, my Tamasd, I view this child
Of my affections, but, alas, the sight
Recalls the memory of far dearer sons.
How fare my boys
Tarn. In him, you may behold them —
Such strength and courage as are his, are theirs.
Slid. Ah me, unhappy — not alone condemned
To separation from my lord, but dooxned
To live divided from my children.
7fl7«. Fate has so v/illed it.
( 56 )
Slid. How have I deserved
A doom so harsh — what sins have I committed.
That the sweet faces of ray love'y boys,
Sliaded Avith curling locks, and bright with smiles,
Where the red lips the budding teeth display.
Should never knoAv the kisses of a father.
Tcnn. If fate be gracious, they may know them yet.
Sita. As they recur to memory, my bosom.
Swells with a mothers passion — and their sire
Full in my gaze, I seem once more to live
Blest amongst mortals.
Tewi. Truly it is said ;
The love that children waken, is the bond.
That binds their parents strongest to their faith.
And even when the wedded pair are held
By fond affection, still there needs this tie
* To make their happiness compleat and lasting.
t^as. Be seated Prince — here in this plantain grove
Behold the marble which in happier days
Supported thee and Siici — here she sat.
And from her hands gave fodder to the deer '
That boldly crowded round their gentle mistress.
Ram. I cannot bear to look upon it. (weeps.)
Fas. f Aside.) Oh, that my lovely friend, could now behold
The altered state of her once beauteous Lord.
* A few speeches of the dia- length in tlie original, especi;illy
logue :ire here, and iu some as the speeches of Sitd and
following passages, omittetl, mere- Tamasd sometimes suspend the
ly to compress a scene which conversation of Rama and
being devoid of action is ex- fduniti through aa iucouveui-
leuded to a diproporliouate cut iulcrval.
( 57 )
His manly form, whose graces ever new
Were once the grateful objects of her siglit.
Now shrunk and withered, and by ceaseless grief
Now paie and haggard liis once blooming cheeks.
Aloud. Put forth your brightest fruits and flowers, ye trees;
Ye breezes breathe the perfume of the lotus ;
And ye soft choristers pour all your voices
In sweet continuous song, for Rama comes.
Once more he visits his erst loved domains.
Ram. Here let us rest awhile.
Vas. Permit me ask
How fares the Prince brave Lalcshn ana.
Ratii. (Not hearing her, apart,)
Twas in these scenes.
The gentle Maiihili delighted fed
The innocent animals confiding round her..
Where'er I turn, sad recollections rise.
And all my heart resolves itself in deAV»
Vas. The Maharaja dost not speak of Lalcshmnna.. *
Ram. (Apatl.) Her cold respectful manner, and her voice
With starting tears, broken and indistinct,
I comprehend— she knows the tale: (io her) the Prince;
Is well, (weeps.)
Vas. Then why these tears.
Sita. Vdsanli — this is cr uel—
My Lord demands respect from all, and most
From those who love me.
Vas. How hadst thou the heart.
To drive "that gentle being from thee— once
H
( ^^^ )
She was tby love, thy otiier, dearer life
Light of thine eyes, and nectar of thy soul.
How can «u-h deed be credited of Rama.
limn. Tlie wox'ld com[:el,ed it.
Vas. Why.
licim. It knew ro cause.
Vas. Obdurate man, to heed the world's reports,
Alone, nor reck the scorn that waits tlie cruel.
Ila-t thou forgotten, what disastrous fate,
Befel the fawn-eycd SHd, when she dwelt
Before in lonely w')ods — Avhatthen occurred,
May make thee tremble for whtt fcince has chanced,
Ra7n, What horrible suggestions— yes, I see.
My dila, once again, the spoil of fiends —
In vain, her slender form and lovely looks
Demafid compa'^sion—vainiy do tliose eyes
Roll wild with terror, fearful as the glance
Unsteady, of the yearUng fawn, and vain
The tender burthen that she graceful bears,
To move the savages to pity — where
Oh, Avhere, abandoned Stt'i, art thou now.
Siia. My Lord, my honoured — '
(Her speech ceases in commlsive slmggles.)
Tarn. ITow now my child.
Nay give thy sorrows way, sufferers should speak
1 heir griefs — tii^; bursting heart that overflows
In words obtains relief ; the swelling lake
Is not imperilled; wiien its rising waters
( o9 )
Find ready passage through tlieir wonted channel.*
Mark Rdmdhlt.ii'rn little cause has he
To thank rnankin;], yet faitlti'ul to his dnty.
He labours for tiieir good, who oft have been
The source of ill to hini;, and sti;l aHiiction
Unceasing for thy loss preys on his life.
As scorching .Mimmers [;ar h the fragile flower.
He knows no pieasure? — norjiartakes the joys
Of social converse — all the recreation
He covets — solitude, and sighs and tears.
Ham. The haunts of populous life, are not for Sltci;
Her home I, know_, is some sequestered shade.
Where she may mourn neglected— but by me
And all who pine in misery, her loss —
Be satisfied — is felt — is f.Jt most bitterly
Vas. {Aside. ) He is much moved, I will divert his thoughts.
To other objects — Look around you. Prince,
And mark the scenes that Janasthdna ofTtrs.
Behold the spot, Adhere in your shady bower
Of twining creepers wove — you often sat?.
To watchj impatient Situs homeward course,
* Lit "By those wlio are in sorrow th^ir sorrows should be
uttered, as the heart in the agitation of griof is upheld by wurds."
The sentiment is faniiliar to the Dramas of Shakesi>ear. Thus in
Richard the 3rd.
Eliz. Why should calamity he ful] of words.
Duch of York. Lfttheni have scope, 'hough wh:»f tliey do impart
Help nothing tise, yet do Ihcj cise the he;nl.
and in Macbeth.
Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'erhuught heart, and makes it break.
( 60 )
From the Godaveri's pure stream, and she.
Who conning marked remote your fond anxiety.
As fearful of rebuke for long delay —
Bowed sportive!}' her head^ and with closed palms.
Touched her fair front to deprecate your anger.
Sita. Cruel Viisanli — this is unmerciful.
Thus with heart piercing shafts, incessantly.
To wound the bosom of my Lord, and mine.
Ram. Relentless Jdnuki where'er I gaze,
I view thy charms — in vain, for thou art pitiless.
]My heart is bursting — all my vigour flies me.
The world is a wide desart — I am burnt
With inward fires — deep, deep, in thickest glooni.
My soul is plunged — and all is night around me,
(faints.
Sita. Alas, his senses fail him — as his thoughts
Revert to me, unhappy — his existence
The hope of all, is thus again endangered.
Tarn' Fear not, your hand revives him.
(Situ ads as before. J
Vas. He recovers.
Ixam. Once more, ambrosia.
Spread o'er each limb, b}^ that celestial hand.
Restores my parting spirit, and converts
]\Iy sorrows to ineffable delioht.
Joy, joy, Vusanti, thou wilt share ray joy. —
Vas. Whence is this transport.
Bam. S'du — she is found.
Fas. Where.
llwii. Here — before us — do>i thou not see her.
( Gl >
Fas. Why naock my sorrows^ why thus rend a heart
Already broken by my Sifuv loss.
R(Wi. I mock thee not; I could not be deceived ;
Too well I know the touch of that dear hand.
The maiTiage rite first placed in mine — even now.
Cool as the snow drift to my fevered palm.
And soft as Jasmine buds I grasp it — here —
CB^ a sudden effort he catches hold ofSitcVs hand.)
Sita. Alas, I yield, (struggling.)
Ram. Vdsanti — it is real—
This rapture is too much — it quite unmans me;
'Tis no delusion —touch, and be convinced.
Vas. Alas — he raves. (Sita gets away.)
Ram. ' ris gone again — I feared it.
The world is rotten at the root — my grasp.
Trembling ill held the tremulous prisoner.
And it has slipped away — what ; no where ; speak.
Pitiless Vaidehi.
Sita. I am rightly called.
To mark this agony, and live.
Ram. Oh wliere —
Where art thou dearest — hear my call — appear.
Be not unmerciful — oh, fly me not.
'Tis strange — it must be phantasy, or else
Vasanti would have seeii her — do I dream-«
Does Rama sleep, or doth the mighty power
That framed the universe, and oft delights
To spread delusion, fabricate a phantom,
To cheat me of my senses.
Sita> Nay, loved Rama,
( 62 )
'Tis I who play a phantom, and deceive thee.
Ram. My friead rdsanli -those who Jove me ttitl.
Can gatlier little pleasure from iny presence-
Why should I longer cause tliy tears to flow.
Forgive me — let mc hence.
Sif'i. (To Tamcisd.) Again I l'>?e him.
Tnio. Yield not to despair — seek we the feet
Of Bha â– avail, to perfect the rites.
That wiUfar Ku.<^'i and for Lava win
Auspicious days to come.
Sila. Oh, let tne look,
A little moment longer, on a form,
1 never, never, may behold again.
Ham. I go to finish, now, my Aswamedha,
I have my bride. —
Sila. What is it that I Iiear.
Ram. The image of my Sitd
Wrought of pure gold will grace the festival.*
Sila. Thou art indeed the son of Dasavdt'ha.
I\Iy pa=t affliction all is now effaced —
Thrice h-ippy she, whom my loved Lord reveres.
Who glads his heart, and is the hope of nations.
* Thus in the .4lcest;s of Eti- The spirit with which Rama
rtpides, J dmelus\aordhv to con- has the iinygH of "^a Torsne ! is
sole himself for the loss of his much more woi Ihy of a hero
spouse declares, ihi!. and Ling: hi nil his conduct in-
By the huiul of skilful artists deed he is vnsily sunfiiorto ^4d-
framed. ?«e<«s, and in the dcrme;iiioii of
Her image shall he placed upon a situation in some respects si-
niy couch. mihir the Hindu poet is equally
superior to Ihe Grecian.
( 63 )
Tarn. You speak yonr own eii'cgium love,
S'lta. Forgive mc (seems ashamed)
You must c't'?pise this ■\veakrxess—
Tam. Let us depart.
Situ. I follow you.
Tam. But with averted eye,
Casting f<-i languid looks, not to the path
The feet should tread— the painful effort strives,
In vain to overcome the strong attraction.
Siia. I bov.' nie to the feet of my dear Lord,
The source of every blessing, (fainting.)
Tam. Be of coui-age.
Sit it. Alas, hoAv long am I condemned to watch.
The pale moon struggling through contending clouds.
Tam, How manifold the forms affection takes.
And yet is one unchanged, as water, seen
In bubbles, eddies, billows, is the same
Unaltered element.
Ranu (In his car — lo the charioteer.) 7his way, direct
my rapid car.
AH. (Addressing miiiually each other.) iMay holy mother
Earth,
The empress of the floods, the Bard inspired,
Tii8 sage Vasishlha, and his pious dame.
Protect your path, and guide you unto happiness. '
END OP THE THIRD ACT.
ACT IV.
THE HERMITAGE OF VALMIKT.
Enter SaucUidtaki and Bhdndayana,
Two Ascetic Disciples.