National Epics | Page 8

with her obeisant wave bright Ganga followed him afar. _Milman's Translation._

THE DEATH OF YAJNADATTA.
The Raja Dasaratha was compelled to banish his favorite son Rama, immediately after his marriage to Sita, because his banishment was demanded by the Raja's wife Kaikeyi, to whom he had once promised to grant any request she might make. His grief at the loss of his son is described in this selection.
Scarce Rama to the wilderness had with his younger brother gone, Abandoned to his deep distress, king Dasaratha sate alone. Upon his sons to exile driven when thought that king, as Indra bright, Darkness came o'er him, as in heaven when pales th' eclipsed sun his light. Six days he sate, and mourned and pined for Rama all that weary time. At midnight on his wandering mind rose up his old forgotten crime. His queen, Kausalya, the divine, addressed he, as she rested near: "Kausalya, if thou wakest, incline to thy lord's speech thy ready ear. Whatever deed, or good or ill, by man, O blessed queen, is wrought. Its proper fruit he gathers still, by time to slow perfection brought. He who the opposing counsel's weight compares not in his judgment cool, Or misery or bliss his fate, among the sage is deemed a fool. As one that quits the Amra bower, the bright Palasa's pride to gain Mocked by the promise of its flower, seeks its unripening fruit in vain, So I the lovely Amra left for the Palasa's barren bloom, Through mine own fatal error 'reft of banished Rama, mourn in gloom. Kausalya! in my early youth by my keen arrow, at his mark Aimed with too sure and deadly truth, was wrought a deed most fell and dark. At length, the evil that I did, hath fallen upon my fated head, As when on subtle poison hid an unsuspecting child hath fed; Even as that child unwittingly hath made the poisonous fare his food, Even so, in ignorance by me was wrought that deed of guilt and blood. Unwed wert thou in virgin bloom, and I in youth's delicious prime, The season of the rains had come,--that soft and love enkindling time. Earth's moisture all absorbed, the sun through all the world its warmth had spread, Turned from the north, its course begun, where haunt the spirits of the dead: Gathering o'er all the horizon's bound on high the welcome clouds appeared, Exulting, all the birds flew round,--cranes, cuckoos, peacocks, flew and veered. And all down each wide-watered shore the troubled, yet still limpid floods, Over their banks began to pour, as o'er them hung the bursting clouds. And, saturate with cloud-born dew, the glittering verdant-mantled earth, The cuckoos and the peacocks flew, disputing as in drunken mirth.--
"In such a time, so soft, so bland, oh beautiful! I chanced to go. With quiver and with bow in hand, where clear Sarayu's waters flow, If haply to the river's brink at night the buffalo might stray, Or elephant, the stream to drink,--intent my savage game to slay. Then of a water cruse, as slow it filled, the gurgling sound I heard, Nought saw I, but the sullen low of elephant that sound appeared. The swift well-feathered arrow I upon the bowstring fitting straight, Towards the sound the shaft let fly, ah, cruelly deceived by fate! The winged arrow scarce had flown, and scarce had reached its destined aim, 'Ah me, I'm slain,' a feeble moan in trembling human accents came. 'Ah, whence hath come this fatal shaft against a poor recluse like me, Who shot that bolt with deadly craft,--alas! what cruel man is he? At the lone midnight had I come to draw the river's limpid flood, And here am struck to death, by whom? ah whose this wrongful deed of blood? Alas! and in my parents' heart, the old, the blind, and hardly fed, In the wild wood, hath pierced the dart, that here hath struck their offspring dead. Ah, deed most profitless as worst, a deed of wanton useless guilt: As though a pupil's hand accurs'd his holy master's blood had spilt. But not mine own untimely fate,--it is not that which I deplore. My blind, my aged parents' state--'tis their distress afflicts me more. That sightless pair, for many a day, from me their scanty food have earned; What lot is theirs when I'm away, to the five elements returned? Alike, all wretched they, as I--ah, whose this triple deed of blood? For who the herbs will now supply,--the roots, the fruit, their blameless food?' My troubled soul, that plaintive moan no sooner heard, so faint and low, Trembled to look on what I'd done, fell from my shuddering hand my bow. Swift I rushed up, I saw him there, heart-pierced, and fallen the stream beside, The hermit