The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 44 in English Spiritual Stories by MB (Official) books and stories PDF | The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 44

Featured Books

The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 44

Canto XLIV. 
Sumitrá's Speech.
Kauśalyá ceased her sad lament,

Of beauteous dames most excellent.

Sumitrá who to duty clave,

In righteous words this answer gave:

“Dear Queen, all noble virtues grace

Thy son, of men the first in place.

Why dost thou shed these tears of woe

With bitter grief lamenting so?

If Ráma, leaving royal sway

Has hastened to the woods away,

'Tis for his high-souled father's sake

That he his premise may not break.

He to the path of duty clings

Which lordly fruit hereafter brings—

The path to which the righteous cleave—

For him, dear Queen, thou shouldst not grieve.

And Lakshmaṇ too, the blameless-souled,

The same high course with him will hold,

And mighty bliss on him shall wait,

So tenderly compassionate.

And Sítá, bred with tender care,

Well knows what toils await her there,

But in her love she will not part

From Ráma of the virtuous heart.

Now has thy son through all the world

The banner of his fame unfurled;

True, modest, careful of his vow,

What has he left to aim at now?

The sun will mark his mighty soul,

His wisdom, sweetness, self-control,

Will spare from pain his face and limb,

And with soft radiance shine for him.

For him through forest glades shall spring

A soft auspicious breeze, and bring

Its tempered heat and cold to play

Around him ever night and day.

The pure cold moonbeams shall delight

The hero as he sleeps at night,

And soothe him with the soft caress

Of a fond parent's tenderness.

To him, the bravest of the brave,

His heavenly arms the Bráhman gave,

When fierce Suváhu dyed the plain

With his life-blood by Ráma slain.

Still trusting to his own right arm

Thy hero son will fear no harm:

As in his father's palace, he

In the wild woods will dauntless be.

Whene'er he lets his arrows fly

His stricken foemen fall and die:

And is that prince of peerless worth

Too weak to keep and sway the earth?

His sweet pure soul, his beauty's charm,

His hero heart, his warlike arm,

Will soon redeem his rightful reign

When from the woods he comes again.

The Bráhmans on the prince's head

King-making drops shall quickly shed,

And Sítá, Earth, and Fortune share

The glories which await the heir.

For him, when forth his chariot swept,

The crowd that thronged Ayodhyá wept,

With agonizing woe distressed.

With him in hermít's mantle dressed

In guise of Sítá Lakshmí went,

And none his glory may prevent.

Yea, naught to him is high or hard,

Before whose steps, to be his guard,

Lakshmaṇ, the best who draws the bow,

With spear, shaft, sword rejoiced to go.

His wanderings in the forest o'er,

Thine eyes shall see thy son once more,

Quit thy faint heart, thy grief dispel,

For this, O Queen, is truth I tell.

Thy son returning, moonlike, thence,

Shall at thy feet do reverence,

And, blest and blameless lady, thou

Shalt see his head to touch them bow,

Yea, thou shalt see thy son made king

When he returns with triumphing,

And how thy happy eyes will brim

With tears of joy to look on him!

Thou, blameless lady, shouldst the whole

Of the sad people here console:

Why in thy tender heart allow

This bitter grief to harbour now?

As the long banks of cloud distil

Their water when they see the hill,

So shall the drops of rapture run

From thy glad eyes to see thy son

Returning, as he lowly bends

To greet thee, girt by all his friends.”

Thus soothing, kindly eloquent,

With every hopeful argument

Kauśalyá's heart by sorrow rent,

Fair Queen Sumitrá ceased.

Kauśalyá heard each pleasant plea,

And grief began to leave her free,

As the light clouds of autumn flee,

Their watery stores decreased.