The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 49 books and stories free download online pdf in English

The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 49

Canto XLIX. 
The Crossing Of The Rivers.
Now Ráma, ere the night was fled,

O'er many a league of road had sped,

Till, as his course he onward held,

The morn the shades of night dispelled.

The rites of holy dawn he paid,

And all the country round surveyed.

He saw, as still he hurried through

With steeds which swift as arrows flew,

Hamlets and groves with blossoms fair,

And fields which showed the tillers' care,

While from the clustered dwellings near

The words of peasants reached his ear:

“Fie on our lord the king, whose soul

Is yielded up to love's control!

Fie on the vile Kaikeyí! Shame

On that malicious sinful dame,

Who, keenly bent on cruel deeds,

No bounds of right and virtue heeds,

But with her wicked art has sent

So good a prince to banishment,

Wise, tender-hearted, ruling well

His senses, in the woods to dwell.

Ah cruel king! his heart of steel

For his own son no love could feel,

Who with the sinless Ráma parts,

The darling of the people's hearts.”

These words he heard the peasants say,

Who dwelt in hamlets by the way,

And, lord of all the realm by right,

Through Kośala pursued his flight.

Through the auspicious flood, at last,

Of Vedaśrutí's stream he passed,

And onward to the place he sped

By Saint Agastya tenanted.

Still on for many an hour he hied,

And crossed the stream whose cooling tide

Rolls onward till she meets the sea,

The herd-frequented Gomatí.321

Borne by his rapid horses o'er,

He reached that river's further shore.

And Syandiká's, whose swan-loved stream

Resounded with the peacock's scream.

Then as he journeyed on his road

To his Videhan bride he showed

The populous land which Manu old

To King Ikshváku gave to hold.

The glorious prince, the lord of men

Looked on the charioteer, and then

Voiced like a wild swan, loud and clear,

He spake these words and bade him hear:

“When shall I, with returning feet

My father and my mother meet?

When shall I lead the hunt once more

In bloomy woods on Sarjú's shore?

Most eagerly I long to ride

Urging the chase on Sarjú's side.

For royal saints have seen no blame

In this, the monarch's matchless game.”

Thus speeding on,—no rest or stay,—

Ikshváku's son pursued his way.

Oft his sweet voice the silence broke,

And thus on varied themes he spoke.