The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 60 books and stories free download online pdf in English

The RÁMÁYAN of VÁLMÍKI - Part 2 - 60

60
Canto LX. 
Kausalyá Consoled.
As Queen Kauśalyá, trembling much,

As blighted by a goblin's touch,

Still lying prostrate, half awoke

To consciousness, 'twas thus she spoke:

“Bear me away, Sumantra, far,

Where Ráma, Sítá, Lakshmaṇ are.

Bereft of them I have no power

To linger on a single hour.

Again, I pray, thy steps retrace,

And me in Daṇḍak forest place,

For after them I needs must go,

Or sink to Yama's realms below.”

His utterance choked by tears that rolled

Down from their fountains uncontrolled,

With suppliant hands the charioteer

Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer:

“Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread

That fills thy soul, of sorrow bred,

For pain and anguish thrown aside,

Will Ráma in the wood abide.

And Lakshmaṇ, with unfailing care

Will guard the feet of Ráma there,

Earning, with governed sense, the prize

That waits on duty in the skies.

And Sítá in the wild as well

As in her own dear home will dwell;

To Ráma all her heart she gives,

And free from doubt and terror lives.

No faintest sign of care or woe

The features of the lady show:

Methinks Videha's pride was made

For exile in the forest shade.

E'en as of old she used to rove

Delighted in the city's grove,

Thus, even thus she joys to tread

The woodlands uninhabited.

Like a young child, her face as fair

As the young moon, she wanders there.

What though in lonely woods she stray

Still Ráma is her joy and stay:

All his the heart no sorrow bends,

Her very life on him depends.

For, if her lord she might not see,

Ayodhyá like the wood would be.

She bids him, as she roams, declare

The names of towns and hamlets there,

Marks various trees that meet her eye,

And many a brook that hurries by,

And Janak's daughter seems to roam

One little league away from home

When Ráma or his brother speaks

And gives the answer that she seeks.

This, Lady, I remember well,

Nor angry words have I to tell:

Reproaches at Kaikeyí shot,

Such, Queen, my mind remembers not.”

The speech when Sítá's wrath was high,

Sumantra passed in silence by,

That so his pleasant words might cheer

With sweet report Kauśalyá's ear.

“Her moonlike beauty suffers not

Though winds be rude and suns be hot:

The way, the danger, and the toil

Her gentle lustre may not soil.

Like the red lily's leafy crown

Or as the fair full moon looks down,

So the Videhan lady's face

Still shines with undiminished grace.

What if the borrowed colours throw

O'er her fine feet no rosy glow,

Still with their natural tints they spread

A lotus glory where they tread.

In sportive grace she walks the ground

And sweet her chiming anklets sound.

No jewels clasp the faultless limb:

She leaves them all for love of him.

If in the woods her gentle eye

A lion sees, or tiger nigh,

Or elephant, she fears no ill

For Ráma's arm supports her still.

No longer be their fate deplored,

Nor thine, nor that of Kośal's lord,

For conduct such as theirs shall buy

Wide glory that can never die.

For casting grief and care away,

Delighting in the forest, they

With joyful spirits, blithe and gay,

Set forward on the ancient way

Where mighty saints have led:

Their highest aim, their dearest care

To keep their father's honour fair,

Observing still the oath he sware,

They roam, on wild fruit fed.”

Thus with persuasive art he tried

To turn her from her grief aside,

By soothing fancies won.

But still she gave her sorrow vent:

“Ah Ráma,” was her shrill lament,

“My love, my son, my son!”