Note 194 — AN ANALYSIS OF THE BRÁTA YÚDHA, OR HOLY WAR; OR RATHER THE WAR OF WOE: AN EPIC POEM, IN THE KÁWI OR CLASSIC LANGUAGE OF JAVA.
Reading edition
Having since my return to England put these illustrations of the Brata Yudha in the hands of a relative (the Rev. Thomas Raffles, of Liverpool,) he has been kind enough to give the translation a poetical dress, and I regret that the limits of the present volume do not admit of their insertion in this form, in justice to the poetry of Java and the talent which he has displayed. The following example of the last stanzas may serve as a specimen of the style and spirit in which the task has been executed.
603. Wearied with fruitless search, and in despair To find the object of her pious care, Her murder'd lord, who on the battle plain Lay all neglected mid the thousands slain, She drew the dagger from its sheath of rest, Intent to plunge it in her heaving breast. Just then, as if in pity to her grief, Flash'd the red light'ning to the maid's relief, And shew'd with horrid glare the bloody way To where her husband's mangled body lay. 604. Another flash, indulgent from the skies, Points to the spot where Sália's carriage lies, And Sália's self, whom living she adored, The bleeding body of her murder'd lord. The richest flowers by heavenly influence shed Their sweetest odours o'er his honoured head, The muttering thunder mourned his early tomb, And heaven in showers bewailed the hero's doom. 605. With eager grasp the livid corpse she press'd In frantic wildness to her throbbing breast; Tried every art of love that might beguile Its sullen features to one cheerful smile; Kiss'd those dear lips so late of coral red, As if unconscious that the soul had fled; Then in her folded arms his head she rais'd, And long on those beloved features gazed. With síri-juice his pallid lips she died, And to his wounds its healing balm applied; While with the skirt of her embroidered vest, She wip'd the blood-drops from his mangled breast. 606. "Ah! then, my princely lord, whom I have found "Bleeding and mangled on this cursed ground! "Why are thy lips in sullen silence sealed "To her who sought thee on this battle field? "Wilt thou not speak—my love, my lord, my all, "Or still in vain must Sátia Wáti call! "Say, shall my copious tears in torrents flow "And thus express my agony and woe? "How shall I move thee, by what art beguile "The ghastly air of that unmeaning smile?" 607. Thus soft and tender were the words she poured, To move the pity of her murder'd lord; But ah! no sound the unconscious dead return'd, No fire of love within his bosom burn'd; While at each pause a death-like stillness stole O'er the deep anguish of the mourner's soul. "And was it thus to bow thy honour'd head "Amid the thousands of the mingled dead, "That on that fatal morning thou didst glide "With gentle footsteps from thy consort's side? "And thus to reach the glorious realms above "Without the faithful partner of thy love? "But earth has lost its fleeting charms for me, "And, happy spirit, I will follow thee! 608. "Oh! meet and bear me o'er that fatal stone, "Nor let me pass it, trembling and alone. "Though Widadáris shall obey thy call, "Yet keep for me a place above them all. "To whom but me does that first place belong, "Who sought and found thee mid this ghastly throng; "And who, unable to survive thy doom, "Thus sheds her blood and shares thy honour'd tomb?" 610. Then with a steady hand the noble maid Drew from its peaceful sheath the gleaming blade; From her fair bosom tore th' embroidered vest, And plunged it deep within her heaving breast. Rich was the blood that issued from the wound, And streamed like liquid gold upon the ground. 611. And while the ebbing tide of life remained, And thought and reason were a while sustained, She called her maiden with her feeble breath, And thus address'd her from the arms of death. 612. "Oh! when my spirit soars to realms above, "Take this my last request to those I love: "Tell them to think of Sátia Wati's fate, "And oft the story of her love relate; "Then o'er her woes the tender heart shall sigh, "And the big tear-drop roll from pity's eye." 614. "Ah my lov'd mistress," cried the faithful maid, "In every scene by thee I gladly staid. "Whate'er the state of being thou must know, "Thy faithful maiden will partake it too. "What hand but mine the cooling stream shall pour, "Or bathe the feet of her whom I adore?" 617. Strong in despair, and starting from the ground, She drew the dagger from her mistress' wound, With deadly aim she plunged it in her breast, And with her mistress sunk to endless rest. 618. Then did their happy spirits wing their way To the fair regions of eternal day. The astonish'd shade of Sália linger'd there, Borne on the pinions of the ambient air, To bid the object of his earthly love An eager welcome to the realms above. 619. Then in his arms his lovely bride he bore Up that resplendent path he trod before, Till earth and time had vanished all away Amid the splendours of eternal day: Where fields of light and silken mansions stand, The glorious work of a celestial hand. 620. Th' enraptured princess, dazzled with the sight, Gazed o'er the boundless realms of living light, With heavenly fruit the eternal groves were crowned, And joy and rich profusion smiled around. All bore the bloom of an immortal youth, All breathed alike the air of love and truth; And all adoring one eternal mind,— The Almighty, rich in bounty to mankind.