ĀRANYA KĀNDAM. (continued 3)

SECTION XLVI.

Having been addressed with those harsh words the younger brother of Rāghava, enraged, proceeded at once, being anxious to see Rāma. Thereupon the ten-necked one, availing of this opportunity came before Vaidehi assuming the semblance of a mendicant. Wearing a soft silken cloth, with a lock of hair on his head with an umbrella and shoes and having on his left shoulder a rod and Kamandalu, the highly powerful one assuming the appearance of a wandering devotee carrying three long bamboo staves appeared before Vaidehi in the forest when there was none of the brothers by her. He saw there the young and pious daughter of the king like unto an evening void of both sun and moon and as the highly terrible Rāhu eyes Rohini forsaken by Moon. Seeing that terrible one the doer of evil deeds, the trees of Janasthāna did not move nor the wind did blow. Seeing him eye Sitā with his blood-red eyes, the fast streaming river Godaveri even slackened its course out of fear. In the mean time the Ten-necked Rāvana, enquiring about Rāma's weak points appeared before Vaidehi in the guise of a mendicant. Like unto Sani approaching chitra, that impious one, assuming the appearance of a pious man like a well covered with grass, approached Vaidehi who was bewailing her husband. And seeing that pious spouse of Rāma—Vaidehi, Rāvana stood before her. Her lips and teeth were extremely fine, her face resembled the full moon and her eyes were like lotus-petals. She had a yellow silken cloth on and sat in the thatched cottage, overwhelmed with grief and bathed in tears. And that ranger of the night with a pleased heart approached Vaidehi. Seeing her that Lord of Rākshasas was pierced with the shafts of passion. And speaking highly of her, surpassing in beauty the three worlds and resembling by the excellence of her own person the very goddess of wealth herself Rāvana uttering the name of God spake unto her saying, "O thou having the color of gold and silver, O thou wearing silken cloth, O thou appearing like a lotus wearing a garland of lotus-petals, O thou of beautiful countenance! Art thou Bashfulness, Beauty, Fame, Wealth, Apsara, Dignity or Rati herself who is ranging at will in this forest? All thy teeth are equal having their tops like unto the buds of Kunda flower, beautiful and yellow. Thy eyes are expansive, clear, of bloody hue, and having black pupils. Thy hip is fleshy and spacious. Thy thighs are like those of elephants, round, fleshy and perfectly strong. Thy nipples are bulky, pointed, highly captivating like cold palm fruits, beautiful and ornamented with diverse jewels. O thou of beautiful smile! O thou of beautiful teeth! O thou of beautiful eyes! O fine damsel, thou dost carry away my heart like unto a river carrying away its banks by its stream. The lock of thy hair is exquisitely fine, thy breast very close and thy waist is so thin that they may be got round even by fingers. There is none so beautiful like thee—a Goddess, a Gandharbhi, a Yakshi or a Kinnari. I had never seen before on this earth a damsel so beautiful as thou. This thy beauty the best on earth, thy youth, thy grace and thy abode in the forest do agitate my mind. So it is well for thee to come (with me); it doth not behove thee to remain here. This is the abode of terrible Rākshasas wearing shapes at will. Picturesque palaces, prosperous cities and sweet-smelling gardens are worthy of thy abode. O thou of dark-blue eyes, fine is thy garland, fine is the smell of thy person and fine is thy apparel—methinks fine is thy husband too. O thou of pure smile! whom dost thou belong to?—Rudras, Marutas, or Vasus— Meseems, O fine damsel thou art a very gooddes. No one comes here—the Gandharbas, the celestials or Kinnaras; this is an abode of the Rākshasas; how dost thou come here? Art thou not afraid of these monkeys, lions, tigers, wolves, bears, herons and hyenas? Alone in this forest, art thou not afraid of these terrible elephants of fierce motion and maddened with the exuding of their temporal juice? Who art thou? Whose wife? What for dost thou range alone in this forest of Dandaka frequented by terrible Rākshasas?" Thus addressed was Vaidehi by the vicious-souled Rāvana. Seeing him come under the guise of a twice-born one, Maithelee worshipped him with diverse articles necessary for serving a guest. Offering him a seat first and afterwards inviting him to wash his feet she said unto that one of placid look "cooked rice is ready." Seeing Rāvana approach with Kamandalu and wearing a red cloth under the guise of a Brahmana, Maithelee could not pass by him any way, and considering him a twice-born one by various signs invited him as if a Brahmana saying, "O Brahmana, do thou sit on this seat facing the right; do thou take this water (to wash thy feet); do thou enjoy these well-cooked eatables growing in the forest and intended for thee." Jānaki the wife of Lord of men inviting him thus, Rāvana, casting a look upon her, addressed himself for his own destruction, to carry her away. She was anxiously expecting the return of Rāma who had gone a-hunting with Lakshmana; she looked around and behold but on all sides the spacious yellow forest-land—there was neither Rāma nor Lakshmana.

SECTION XLVII.

"Being thus addressed by Rāvana under the guise of a mendicant, desirous of carrying her away Vaidehi thought within herself—"This person is my guest and a Bhahmin; he may curse me if I do not speak to him." Thinking this for a moment Sitā said "May good betide thee! I am the daughter of the high-souled Janaka, the king of Mithilā, the beloved Queen of Rāma and my name is Sitā. Dwelling in the palace of Ikshakus for twelve years, I enjoyed many things passing human and had all my desires satisfied. On the thirteenth year king (Daçaratha) counselled with his ministers about the installation of Rāma. Accordingly everything necessary for the installation being made ready, Kaikeyi, one of my mothers-in-law, begged of her husband a boon. Bringing my father-in-law under control by means of her virtuous deeds, Kaikeyi begged, of that truthful, best of monarchs, two boons namely the exile of my husband into the woods and the installation of Bharata, and said "I shall never eat, drink or sleep and (if Rāma be installed) I shall end my life." Kaikeyi speaking thus, that lord of earth, my father-in-law begged her to accept diverse riches; but Kaikeyi did not agree. Then the highly effulgent Rāma, my husband was twenty-five years old, and myself was eighteen years old counting from my birth. My husband is known all over the world under the name of Rāma. He is truthful, good-natured, of pure character, ever engaged in the welfare of all created beings, of mighty-arms and expansive eyes. Our father the king Daçaratha was entirely under the control of passions, and hence for the satisfaction of Kaikeyi did not install Rāma. When Rāma came to his father for being installed Kaikeyi spoke unto my husband the following cruel words, "Do thou hear, O Rāghava, how I have been ordered by thy Sire. This kingdom, rid of thorns is to be conferred on Bharata, and thou shalt have to sojourn into woods for years nine and five. Do thou therefore repair unto forest, O Kākuthstha and save thy Sire from untruth." Whereto Rāma fearlessly replied 'So be it!' Hearing her words my husband of firm vows acted accordingly. He always maketh gifts and taketh none. He always speaketh truth and never telleth an untruth. This is his best observance, O Brahmana. His half-brother named Lakshmana is of mighty prowess. That best of men is Rāma's help and the destroyer of foes in battle. That brother of his named Lakshmana is of firm resolution and given to asceticism. With a bow in hand he hath followed (Rāma) flying as an exile unto woods along with me. Thus that one (Rāma) of firm resolution and ever engaged in pious offices wearing matted hair and assuming the semblance of an ascetic hath entered this forest of Dandaka along with myself and his younger brother. O thou the best of twice-born ones, we three being deprived of our kingdom by Kaikeyi have been living in this dense forest by virtue of our effulgence. Do thou take heart for a moment and live here. Instantly shall my husband return with good many wild fruits and roots and with sufficient meat after killing many a deer, hog and Gosamp. Truly do thou relate unto me thy name, Gotra and lineage. O thou twice-born one, why dost thou range alone in this forest of Dandaka?" Sitā the wife of Rāma speaking thus, the mighty Lord of Rākshasas—Rāvana replied with these harsh words—"0 Sitā I am that Rāvana, the lord of Rākshasas, whom fear the celestials, Asuras and human beings. O thou of blamless beauty, seeing thee of golden hue and wearing silk cloth I do not relish my own wives. I have brought many a beautiful damsel from various quarters, do thou become my foremost Queen amongst them. That great city in the midst of the ocean, Lankā, encircled on all sides by the sea and situated on the summit of a hill, is my capital. There shalt thou with me, Sitā, walk in gardens, and thus thou shall no more long for living in the forest. If thou dost become my wife, O Sitā, five thousand maid-servants decorated with divers ornaments shall serve thee." That blameless daughter of Janaka, being thus addressed by Rāvana, was highly enraged, and, passing by him, replied, "I am a dependant ot Rāma, who is incapable of being shaken, like unto a mighty mountain, incapable of being agitated, like unto a vast ocean, and resembling Mahendra in effulgence. I am a dependant of that great and truthful Rāma who is gifted with auspicious marks and like unto a fig tree. I am dependant of that lion among men, Rāma, of mighty arms, of a spacious breast and treading like a lion, I am a dependant of that son of a king, Rāma, of mighty arms, having control over his passions, whose face resembles the full moon and whose fame hath spread far and wide over the earth. Why dost thou being a tiger wish for a she-lion? Thou shalt not be able to touch me like unto the rays of the sun. O thou wretched Rākshasa, when thou hast desired to steal away Rāghava's beloved spouse, surely dost thou see these trees (before thee) as made of gold. Dost thou wish to uproot the teeth from the mouth of a lion, that enemy of deer, or from that of a serpent? Dost thou wish to clasp with thy hands the Mandara hill, or dost thou wish to walk in peace after drinking poison? Dost thou wish to rub thy eyes with pins and lick a razor with thy tongue? Thou dost wish to swim across an ocean, having a rock tied unto thy neck. Thou dost wish to get at the Sun and Moon, to bind a flaming fire with a piece of cloth and walk through iron-spikes, as thou hast wished to come by the worthy spouse of Rāma. Mighty is the difference between Rāma and thee, like unto that between a lion and a jackal, a sea and a rivulet, nectar and gruel, gold and iron, sandal and mud, an elephant and a cat, a crow and Garuda, a peacock and a madgie (an acquatic bird), or a duck and a vulture. Even if thou dost steal me, that mighty archer Rāma, gifted with the prowess of the lord of celestials, living, surely shall I die, like unto a gnat sucking clarified butter." Addressing those words unto that wicked ranger of the night, that innocent (Sitā) shook like a plantain tree shaken by the wind. Thereupon Rāvana, like unto Death in prowess, trembling, began to relate unto her with a view to frighten (her) his race, power, name and actions.

SECTION XLVIII.

After Sitā had spoken these harsh words, Rāvana, enraged, with a frown, replied "O thou of a beautiful countenance, I am the step-brother of the Lord of wealth and my name is the mighty Ten-necked Rāvana. May good betide thee! Like unto people fearing Death, the celestials, Gandharbas, Piçāchas, Pannagas and Serpents fly in diverse directions being frightened by me. I have subdued by my prowess, my step-brother, the Lord of wealth in a conflict, quarrelling with him for some reason. Thereat, that one carried by men, renouncing out of my fear this wealthy abode of Lānka, hath been living on that Lord of mountains, Kailaça. O thou auspicious one, by virtue of my prowess I have taken away that beautiful chariot of his called Puspaka. Ascending that chariot thou shalt travel by the etherial route. O Maithilee, when I am excited with ire, Indra and other celestials at the mere sight of my countenance fly away in divers directions out of fear. Wherever I live, the Wind bloweth cautiously and the Sun (of piercing rays) out of fear for me appeareth in the welkin like the Moon. What shall I say more? Wherever I live, even the leaves of the trees do not flutter and the currents of the rivers are stopped. Beyond the ocean stands my beautiful capital Lankā like unto Indra's Amarāvati, (the capital of the Lord of celestials), guarded on all sides by the terrible night-rangers and encircled by yellow walls. That beautiful city hath gate-ways of ornamented and jewelled arches and golden apartments. It is filled with elephants, horses and chariots, always resounds with the sounds of bugles, and is beautified with gardens having divers trees of wished for fruits. O Sitā, O thou the daughter of a king, in this city shalt thou dwell with me. O large-minded damsel, thou shalt never think of earthly women. O thou of an exquisite countenance, enjoying these many things passing human, thou shalt not any more think of Rāma—a human being of brief existence. Placing his beloved son on the throne, king Daçaratha hath sent away his eldest son of weak prowess into the woods. O thou of expansive eyes, what shalt thou do with that wretched ascetic Rāma who hath been deprived of his kingdom? I am the lord of the whole world of Rākshasas; being pierced by the shafts of Kama have I come by thee. It doth not behove thee therefore to pass by me. O timid damsel, truly shalt thou repent afterwards if thou dost disregard me, like unto Uruashee kicking Purarava. Rāma is a human being and is not even equal to a finger of mine in battle. By thy good luck have I come unto thee— do thou give thyself up unto me, O thou of a beautiful countenance." Being thus addressed by him, Vaidehi exceedingly wroth and with blood-red eyes spoke unto that Lord of Rākshasas in the lonely forest, these bold words. "How dost thou wish to perpetrate such an impious deed after introducing as thy brother that highly worshipful Kuvera adored by all the deities. O Rāvana, surely shall all the Rākshasas meet with death, who have such a stupid, harsh and lustful person like thee for their king. One can breathe on this earth carrying away Indra's wife, Sachi—but stealing me, the wife of Rāma, no body shall be able to live in peace. O Rākshasa, it might be possible for one to live on this earth treating contemptuously the wife of the holder of thunder-bolt, but insulting me none shall escape the hands of Death even if he drinketh nectar.

SECTION XLIX.

Hearing those words of Sitā the highly powerful Ten-necked one striking his hands together, increased his body too high. Thereupon, that one skilled in speech again spake unto Maithilee, "Methinks thou hast run mad. Hast thou not heard of my valour and prowess? Stationing myself in the welkin I can with my hands raise up the earth. I can drink up the waters of the ocean. And engaged in conflict I can destroy Death itself. With my sharpened shafts I can pierce the Sun and cut asunder the earth. Thou art mad with thy beauty. Do thou look upon me, who am capable of illusions." When he had spoken thus, his yellow eyes became blood-red with rage and assumed the semblance of flaming fire. Thereat Rāvana, the younger brother of the Lord of wealth, changing his placid countenance, instantly assumed his own terrible shape resembling that of Yama. Highly exercised with ire, that ranger of the night became of ten countenances and twenty arms; his eyes were bloody and he appeared beautiful like unto blue clouds, being dressed in gold-hued apparel. Leaving aside the semblance of a mendicant, that lord of Rākshasas, Rāvana, increasing in bulk, assumed his own shape. And wearing a blood-red cloth he stood there fixing his look upon that jewel of a damsel—Maithili. Thereupon Rāvana spake unto Maithili like unto the rays of the sun, having a head of black hair and wearing apparel and ornaments, saying, "O thou fine damsel, if thou dost wish to have a husband known all over the world, do thou surrender thyself unto me. I am a worthy husband (or thee. Do thou serve me for ever, thy praiseworthy husband. O fine lady, I shall never do what thou dost not like. Renouncing thy attachment for a man, do thou place thy love in me. O foolish girl, worthy of being adored by the learned, for what quality art thou attached unto Rāma of a limited life, who hath been deprived of his kingdom and hath his desire frustrated, and who of an evil intent, hath, at the words of his wife, renouncing his kingdom and kinsmen, been living in this forest—the abode of voracious animals." Speaking thus unto Maithili, sweet-speeched and worthy of being sweetly addressed, that highly wicked Rākshasa, Rāvana, being exercised with lust, approached towards Sitā and got hold of her, like unto Budha holding Rohini in the sky. With his left hand he held her, having eyes like unto lotus-petals, by the hair, and with his right hand got hold of her thighs. Seeing Rāvana of sharpened teeth, and mighty arms, resembling the summit of a mountain and like unto death itself, the deties of the forest became highly terrified and fled in different directions. Instantly appeared there the celestial car of Rāvana, decked in gold, drawn by asses and making a terrible sound. Thereupon, that one emmiting terrible accents, remonstrated with Vaidehi in harsh words and clasping her ascended the car. The virtuous Sitā, being thus caught by Rāvana,began to cry aloud, addressing Rāma, who had gone away to a distant forest. Rāvana, racked with lust, rose high up with her like unto the wife of a Pannaga, though she tried her best (to get rid of him), for she was not in the least attached unto him. Being thus carried away by the ethereal track by that Lord of Rākshasas, Sitā began to cry aloud, like one mad, distressed and of deranged senses. "Ah! mighty Lakshmana, ever ministering unto the satisfaction of thy superiors, dost thou not know that I have been stolen away by a Rākshasa assuming shapes at will? O Rāghava, for virtue hast thou renounced thy life, happiness and wealth,—dost thou not see that I have been carried away by one of mighty iniquity? O thou the subduer of foes,thou dost always control the rebellious,—why dost thou not punish such a vicious Rākshasa? The vicious do not instantaneously meet with the fruits of their actions; as for corn to ripen requires the assistance of time. For this iniquitous deed, which thou hast perpetrated, availing of the time and losing thy sense, thou shalt meet with a mighty disaster from Rāma, bringing about thy end. Ah! being the virtuous wife of the virtuous and far-famed Rāma, I have been stolen away. Now hath the desire of Kaikeyi and other relations been fulfilled. I invoke this Janasthāna and these flowery Karnikās to tell Rāma that Rāvana hath stolen away Sitā. I invoke thee, O Godavari, having swans and cranes sporting in thy stream, to tell Rāma that Rāvana hath stolen away Sitā. I salute and invoke the deities that live in this forest of many trees to tell my husband of my being stolen away (by Rāvana). I do seek the refuge of all deer, birds and other animals that live in this forest, and may they all communicate unto Rāma the news of his dear spouse being carried away, and tell him that Sitā, losing her control, hath been stolen away by Rāvana. Even if I am taken away by Yama, and if the mighty-armed Rāma is apprised of it, surely shall he bring me back by the display of his prowess." Racked with sorrow that one of expansive eyes, while thus bewailing in piteous accents, she espied Yatāyu, the king of vultures, seated on a tree. Thereat the daughter of Janaka, brought under the control of Rāvana and terrified, began to cry and utter those piteous words—"O worshipful Yatāyu, do thou see that this vicious lord of Rākshasas hath ruthlessly carried me away like one having no husband. Thou wilt not be able to withstand this mighty, wicked and cruel night-ranger wearing emblems of conquest and having a scimitar in his hand. Do thou relate unto Rāma and to Lakshmana everything about my being carried away from the beginning to the end.

SECTION L.

Hearing these words Yatāyu, who lay buried in a deep slumber, awoke and beheld both Rāvana and Jānaki. Thereat the lord of birds resting on the tree, having a big sharp beak like unto the summit of a hill, addressed these soft words unto Rāvana, "O brother Ten-necked one, I am conversant with Purānas, of truthful vows and abide by religion. It doth not behove thee to perpetrate such an iniquitous deed before me. I am Yātayu, the mighty lord of vultures. Daçaratha's son Rāma is the lord of all men like unto Mahendra and Varuna. He is ever engaged in the welfare of all men. This exquisitely beautiful and far-famed Sitā whom thou art about to steal away, is the married wife of that lord of men. And how dost thou thyself being a monarch and engaged in the royal office of maintaining subjects, carry away by stealth another's wife? O thou of mighty prowess, thou shouldst specially protect the wives of kings. Do thou therefore control thy base inclination of oppressing another's wife. A hero doth never perform what bringeth calumny upon himself. It becometh every individual to save another's wife from the touch of a second man like unto his own wife. O son of Paulastya, at the instance of the king mild subjects perform many an action conducing to virtue, wealth and desire, though not mentioned in the Sastras. The king is the virtue, the king is the desire and the king is the prime jewel of all subjects. Virtue, desire or sin—every thing ariseth from the king. O thou the best of Rākshasas, thou art vicious and unsteady; how hast thou come by rkhes like unto a sinner attaining to the abode of celestials? A vicious person can never relinquish his sinful habits—virtue doth never reside in the abodes of impious persons.

The mighty and the virtuous-souled Rāma hath committed nothing wrong in thy city or thy dominions. Why dost thou then commit wrong by him? Khara of Janasthāna is highly wicked and if Rāma of blameless actions hath killed him on Surpanakhā's account how is he to blame? Why dost thou then carry away the wife of that lord of men? Do thou soon leave off Vaidehi. Like unto Indra burning down Vitrasura, Rāma, looking with his terrible eyes like flaming fire, shall reduce thee to ashes. Dost thou not understand that thou hast tied with cloth a virulent serpent? Dost thou not see that thou hast placed around thy neck the noose of death? It is always proper to carry such a weight as doth not exhaust (him who carries); it is always proper to take such a food as doth not cause illness. Who engageth himself in such an action as doth not confer virtue, fame or glory, but bringeth about physical affliction only? O Rāvana, I am sixty thousand years old and have been administering regularly my ancestral kingdom. Old though I am, thou shalt not be able to carry away with safety Jānaki in my presence, young, accoutered in mails as thou art with bow and arrows in thy hands and ascending a car. As it is not easy to destroy, by the reasonings of Logic, Vedas and Sruties containing eternal and immutable truths, so thou shalt not be able to carry away Vaidehi by force before me. If thou art a hero do thou fight. Or do thou wait for a moment, O Rāvana, thou shalt also embrace the earth like unto Khara. Soon shall Rāma clad in bark destroy thee in the battle field, who hadst many a time and oft destroyed in conflict the celestials and Dānavas. These two princes Rāma and Lakshmana are at a distance, what shall I do now? O vile being, undoubtedly shalt thou, terrified, be destroyed by them. Myself drawing my breath thou shalt not be able to carry away this beloved queen of Rāma, the pure-natured Sitā having eyes resembling lotuses. It is my duty to do good unto the high-souled Rāma and Daçaratha even at the sacrifice of my life. Do thou stand, O Ten-necked one. Behold for a moment. O Rāvana, I shall throw thee headlong from this car, like unto a fruit from its stalk. O ranger of the night, even to my utmost might I will render thee hospitality in encounter.

SECTION LI.

While Yatāyu, the king of birds, spake this, Rāvana, the lord of Rākshasas, wearing pendants made of pure gold, having his eyes reddened with ire, darted towards him. Thereupon they began a terrible conflict in the welkin, like unto clouds driven by wind. There occured a mighty conflict between Yatāyu, the lord of vultures, and Rāvana, the lord of Rākshasas, like unto two Malyavān⁵⁷ hills supplied with wings. Thereat Rāvana began to shower continually terrible and sharpened pikes, iron arrows and Vikarnis upon the mighty lord of vultures. Yatāyu, the king of birds, began to withstand in conflict the arrows and weapons darted by Rāvana, and wounded Rāvana's person with his feet supplied with sharpened talons. Thereupon, to destroy his enemy, that mighty hero, the Ten-necked Rāvana, being exercised with ire, took up ten terrible arrows like unto the sceptre of Death, and stretching the bow to the full he shot those straight-coursing sharpened shafts at Yatāyu, the king of birds. Beholding Jānaki with tears In her eyes in that Rākshasa's car, Yatāyu, the king of birds, disregarding those arrows, darted towards Rāvana, and with his feet broke asunder his bow with the arrows, adorned with pearls and diamonds. Thereat Rāvana, almost beside himself with wrath, taking up another bow, began to shower arrows by hundreds and thousands. Being covered with those arrows, the lord of birds appeared like a bird lying in his nest. Pushing away these arrows by the wind of his wings, he again snapped that mighty bow with his feet, and with a stroke of his wings shattered Rāvana's flaming shield like unto burning fire. Thereupon, moving away with the wind of his wings Rāvana's blazing cuirass resembling flaming fire, Jatāyu in that conflict made away with his fleet-coursing asses having the faces of demons. Next crumbling into pieces with his impetus the mighty chariot of Rāvana, coursing at will, flaming like fire, having steps studded with jewels, and a wooden pole, and throwing down the umbrella and chowris like unto the full moon along with the Rākshasas engaged in carrying them,the effulgent and mighty lord of birds shattered the head of the charioteer with the strokes of his beak. Having his bow snapped and deprived of his car, horses and charioteer, Rāvana fell down to the earth, taking Vaidehi on his lap. Beholding Rāvana fallen on the ground and of broken conveyance, all creatures praised the king of vultures again and again and worshipped him.

Thereupon, finding the lord of birds worn out on account of his old age, Rāvana, highly encouraged, again rose high up in the welkin, taking Maithili with him. He had all his weapons broken in the conflict, and had but his dagger left to him. Beholding him proceed thus pleased, taking the daughter of Janaka on his lap,—all his weapons having been lost, with his sword alone left,—the mighty and powerful lord of vultures, Yatāyu, rose up and, darting towards Rāvana, resisted him and said,—"O Rāvana of feeble sense, it is for the destruction of the whole line of Rākshasas that thou carriest away this spouse of Rāma, having arrows like unto thunderbolts. Like one thirsty drinking water, thou dost address thyself to drinking poison along with thy friends, courtiers, four-fold forces, servants and relatives. Foolish persons unaware of the fruit of their actions, meet in a short time with their own destruction,—so shalt thou very soon meet with thy own end. Thou hast been bound up by the noose of Death; and, proceeding whither, shalt thou save thyself, like unto fish eating up baits with hooks for their own destruction? O Rāvana, it is beyond thy power to defeat the Kākutsthas. They shall not forgive thee for this thy encroachment upon their asylum. What hath been perpetrated by thee, coward, is blamed by all, and is the way taken recourse to by thieves and not by heroes. Do thou fight, O Rāvana, if thou art a hero, or wait for a moment and thou shalt lie down on the earth like unto thy brother Khara. Truly hast thou for thy own destruction engaged thyself in these impious acts, which are perpetrated by men on the eve of their death. What person doth that which leadeth solely into sin? Neither the lord of celestials nor the self-create Deity doth engage in such an action." Addressing these moral words, the mighty Yatāyu swooped on the back of that Ten-necked Rākshasa. Like unto the rider of a mad elephant, the lord of vultures began to tear Rāvana with his sharpened claws, and that one having for his weapons his beak, talons, and wings, began to rive Rāvana's back with his beak and claws, and to uproot his hair. Being thus aflicted again and again by the king of vultures, the Rākshasa shook, with his lips quivering in anger. Beside himself with anger, Rāvana, holding Jānaki fast by her left flank, struck Yatāyu with his palms. Yatāyu, the subduer of foes, bearing the strokes, tore into pieces his ten left arms with his beak. His arms cut off, instantly sprang up as many others, like unto serpents issuing out of ant-hills, being exercised with the pangs of poison. The mighty Ten-necked one, leaving aside Sitā, out of anger bore down Yatāyu with his fists and feet. Thereupon arose a mighty conflict between the lord of of vultures and the lord of Rākshasas of incomparable prowess. Yatāyu addressing himself to displaying his prowess for the benefit of Rāma, Rāvana taking out his dagger, cut off his two wings, two legs and two sides. The ranger of the night of cruel deeds having sundered his wings, the king of vultures approaching wellnigh the verge of death, fell down on the earth. Beholding him fallen on the grand with his person bathed in blood, Sitā. became exceedingly aggrieved and darted towards him like unto a friend. The lord of Lankā beheld Yatāyu, fallen on the ground, resembling sable clouds, having a yellow breast and of exceeding prowess,—like unto an extinguished forest-fire. Then Sitā the daughter of Janaka, having a moon-like countenance began lamenting, clasping with her hands Yatāyu, crushed and fallen on the ground by the vehemence of Rāvana's prowess.

SECTION LII.

Beholding the king of vultures slain by Rāvana, that one possessed of a face fair as the moon, striken with grief, broke out into lamentations, saying, "Throbbings of the eyes or other parts of the body, dreams, seeing birds or hearing their voices, are found to augur happiness or misery to men. And, O Rāma, although birds and beasts are scampering away before thee on my account, thou understandest not the mighty mishap that has befallen thee. O Rāma, this bird, who, moved by kindness, had come to rescue me, owing to my (ill) luck, lies slain on the ground. O Kākutstha, O Lakshmana, save me!" Thus did that best of females, afflicted with fear, bewail; and those near (her) heard her lamentations. Thereat, that lord of the Rākshasas, Rāvana, darted towards Vadehi, who, with a faded wreath for her ornament, was bewailing in forlorn guise. Exclaiming repeatedly, "Leave off!" "Leave off," the lord of the Rākshasas got at her, as she was clasping a mighty tree as if it were a creeper. And as she, bereft of the company of Rāma in the wilderness, was wailing, saying, "O Rāma," "O Rāma," that one resembling the Destroyer himself, with the view of compassing his own end, seized her by her hair. On Vaidehi being thus outraged, this entire world consisting of mobile and immobile objects, had its nature altered. A dense darkness enveloped (everything). And the air did not breathe there; and the sun grew dim. Espying with his divine vision that Sitā was overcome, that Deity, the graceful Great-father exclaimed, "Our work is accomplished." And seeing Sitā overpowered, the supreme saints inhabiting the Dandaka forest, concluding the destruction of Rāvana to be as good as accomplished without much ado, became at once delighted and aggrieved. As she went on weeping with "O Rāma," "O Lakshmana," Rāvana—lord of Rākshasas —taking her, coursed through the sky. And then the king's daughter hued like molten gold, clad in a yellow silken cloth, looked exceedingly beautiful like unto lightning. And on her yellow cloth streaming up, Rāvana looked surpassingly graceful like a hill aflame with fire. And coppery fragrant lotus-leaves belonging to the eminently auspicious Vaidehi showered upon Rāvana. And her gold-glowing silken cloth, flying in the air, appeared like clouds colored by the sunken sun. And her blameless countenance on Rāvana's lap in the sky did not appear beauteous without Rāma,—like a lotus without its stalk; it appeared like the moon risen tearing away dark clouds. And in the aerial regions her countenance on Rāvana's lap furnished with a fair forehead and graceful hair glowing like the interior of a lotus, without scars, graced with white, shining, stainless teeth, having excellent eyes,—lovely like the moon, having a shapely nose, a rubeous upper lip,—wearing the splendour of gold in the sky,—that captivating countenance of hers in consequence of her weeping, and of being stained with tears, as also owing to the violence it had undergone at the hands of the lord of Rākshasas—did not appear beautiful without Rāma; like the moon risen during the day. And furnished with the hue of gold, Mithilā's daughter beside the dark-bodied lord of the Rākshasas, looked like a golden girth round a sable elephant. And Janaka's daughter, yellow-hued like lotus, having the lustre of gold.—and adorned with shining ornaments, coming in contact with Rāvana, appeared like lightning embosomed among clouds. And in consequence of Vaidehi's ornaments sending sounds, the lord of Rākshasas resembled an entirely dark rumbling cloud. And as Sitā was being borne away, showers of blossoms, falling off from her head, were scattered all around on the earth beneath. And that blossomy shower all around, drawn up by the vehemence of the ten-headed Rāvana, again alighted beside him. And the showers of blossoms scattered around Vaiçravana's younger brother, looked like rows of burning stars round the foremost of mountains.⁵⁸ And the bangles studded with gems, loosened from Vaidehi's feet, fell on the earth, like the lightning circle.⁵⁹ Of hue like the light red of tender twigs, Vaidehi set off the dark-bodied lord of Rākshasas, as does a golden cover an elephant. Vaiçravana's younger brother carried away Sitā, who, like a mighty meteor, filled the heavens with her splendour. And like stars of exhausted religious merit dropping down from the sky, her fiery ornaments began to fall to the earth with sounds. And the chain of the splendour of the moon, removed from Vaidehi's breast, falling down, shone like the Gangā dropping from the sky. The trees filled with various fowls, with their tops waving because of the wind blowing on high and swaying them, seemed to say, "No fear," [unto Sitā.] And the pools with their lotuses faded and their fishes agitated, seemed to sorrow for the desponding daughter of Mithilā as for their friend. And following Sitā's shadow, lions, and tigers, and other beasts and birds, rushed from all sides in wrath. And the mountains, with their faces washed with water-falls representing tears, and their summits resembling uplifted arms, seemed to lament for Sitā, as she was being carried away. And beholding Vaidehi carried away, the glorious Sun, oppressed with sadness, had his rays dimmed and his disc darkened. "Virtue is not; and where is truth? And there is neither sincerity nor kindness,—in a case in which Rāvana is carrying away Rāma's Vaidehi thus did all creatures lament in numbers. And the young of deer, afflicted with fear, wept with woe-begone faces. And the sylvan deities, looking up now and again with eyes betokening fear, had their persons all in a tremble. For compassing his own destruction, the Ten-headed one carried away the intelligent Vaidehi, bewailing bitterly, Sitā, who had come by such misfortune, sweet-voiced, crying, "O Lakshmana" "O Rāma," and casting glances on the ground many a time and oft,—the ends of her hair waving and her tilika wiped out. Then oppressed with the load of fear, Sitā of luminous smiles,—Mithilā' s daughter, bereft of her friends —not beholding either Rāma or Lakshmana, became pale of countenance.

SECTION LIII.

Seeing him fly up into the air, Janaka's daughter, Maithili, became aggrieved and exceedingly agitated, and great was the fear that possessed her. Her eyes expressing rage, weeping and fright, Sitā, as she was being carried away, weeping piteously, spoke to the grim-eyed lord of the Rākshasas, saying, "Dost thou not, O base wretch, Rāvana, feel shame on account of this act—thou, who, knowing that I was alone, fliest away, carrying me? Coward that thou art, thou it was, who, desirous of carrying me off, by the shape of a deer, hadst, by thy [powers of] illusion taken away my lord. And he also that endeavoured to rescue me, has been slain by thee—the ancient king of vultures, who was the friend of my father-in-law. Great, forsooth, is found to be thy might, thou vilest of Rākshasas; in that thou hast carried me off by simply declaring thy name, but hast not won me in war. Why dost thou not, O execrable one, take shame unto thyself, having perpetrated such a heinous act—having carried off another's wife in the absence of her husband? This fell and foul act of thine fraught with unrighteousness, heroic persons shall bruit about the world. Fie on thy heroism and thy truth,—of which thou didst apeak at that time; and fie also on this character of thine, calculated to sully thy line in this world. What can I do (unto thee), as thou proceedest with speed? But stay thou for a moment; and thou shalt not return with life. Shouldst thou come within the range of the vision of those sons of the king, thou couldst not, although thou shouldst happen to be accompanied with thy army, live for a moment. Even as a bird cannot bear the touch of a flaming fire in a forest, thou canst never bear the touch of their arrows. Effecting thy own welfare, do thou, O Rāvana, leave me. If thou do not let me go, my husband along with his brother would strive for thy destruction. As intent upon sensul enjoyment, thou endeavourest to ravish me, this very endeavour of thine, O mean wight, shall come to naught. Not beholding my lord resembling a celestial, I cannot, come under the sway of my enemy, bear to live long. As one dwelling on earth perceives objects in their reversed relations at the time of one's death, so thou dost not perceive what is for thy good or profit. Those moribund do not relish what would do them good. I see thee with the noose of Death wound round thy neck. As, O ranger of night, thou art not affected with fear, albeit the situation is one calculated to raise one's apprehensions, it is clear that thou wilt see the golden trees, the dreadful river Vaitarani flowing with blood, the terrible wood, O Rāvana, rife with leaves in the shape of swords, and a sharp Sālmali containing blossoms of shining gold, having lapises for its leaves, and bearing iron thorns. But, O shameless one, like a person that hath drunk poison, having done this wrong unto that high-souled one, thou wilt not be able to save thyself. O Rāvana, thou art fast fettered in the noose of Death. Having done this foul turn unto that high-souled one, repairing whither, shalt thou obtain respite? Shall not that strong and heroic Rāghava, skilled in all weapons, who without his brother, in the twinkling of an eye, in battle slew fourteen thousand Rākshasas, slay thee, who carriest away his beloved wife?" Thus and in other ways, Videha's daughter, lying on the lap of Rāvana, overwhelmed with fear and grief, indulged in piteous lamentations. And the wicked (Rāvana) with a shaking frame carried away the daughter of the king extremely distressed, speaking much, and speaking piteously, uttering lamentations, and putting forth endeavours (to free herself.)

SECTION LIV.

Carried away (by Rāvana), Vaidehi, not finding any defender, saw five principal monkeys stationed on the top of a hill. Thereat, that lady of expansive eyes and surpassing charms, in the hope that they might convey the intelligence unto Rāma, flung off in their midst her gold-gleaming silken sheet, and elegant ornaments. But the Ten headed one owing to hurry did not observe the throwing of the cloth along with the ornaments. Those foremost of monkeys having tawny eyes observed with winkless eyes the large-eyed Sitā as she was giving way to grief. And the lord of Rākshasas, passing beyond Pampā, directed his course towards the city of Lankā, taking Mithilā's daughter along with him, indulging in lamentations. Experiencing the height of delight, Rāvana ravished her, taking her on his lap, like a sharp-toothed serpent of virulent poison. And speedily, like an arrow shot from a bow, he, coursing the welkin, left behind woods and streams and mountains and pieces of water. And coming to the abode of Varuna, that refuge of rivers, the exhaustless ocean—the home of whales and alligators, he crossed over it. In consequence of the carrying away of Vaidehi, Varuna's abode, from grief, had all its waves stilled and its fishes and mighty snakes inert.—And the Chāranas uttered in the heavens these words, "O Ten-headed one, this is thy end." Thus did the Siddhas then say. And taking Siti on his lap, representing his own Death,—who endeavoured (to liberate herself), Rāvana entered the city of Lankā. And entering the city of Lankā, vast, with all its highways well-arranged, and with people thronging its gates, he entered his own inner apartment. Then Rāvana set Sitā there, having eyes with dark outer corners, exercised with grief and dole; as if Maya had set his own Asura Illusion (in his own palace). Then the Ten-headed one spoke unto some female friends of terrible visages, "Let no man or woman behold Sitā without my permission. And I command that, should she ask for pearls, or rubies, or gold, or apparel, or ornaments, the same should be rendered unto her. She that, whether knowingly or unknowingly should say anything unpleasant to Vaidehi, would hold her life cheap." Having said this unto the Rākshasis, the puissant lord of the Rāksahsas, went out of the inner apartment, and thought within himself as to what was to be done (next). And he saw eight flesh-eating Rākshasas of wondrous prowess. And seeing them, the exceedingly powerful (Rāvana), blinded by the bestowal of the boon, after extolling their strength and heroism, addressed them, saying, "Equipped with various weapons, do ye speedily take yourself to Janasthāna,— that field of carnage—which ere this contained the abode of Khara; and casting off fear at a distance, do ye sojourn in vacant Janasthāna with all its Rākshasas slain (by Rāma). A great many troops endeued with exceeding prowess, who had been posted in Janasthāna, have, along with Dushana and Khara, been slain by the shafts of Rāma. Hence unprecedented is my wrath, towering above my patience; and great and fierce also is the hostility I have conceived against Rāma. I wish to avenge myself on my mighty enemy. Sleep find I none without slaying my foe in fight. Slaying that slayer of Khara and Dushana, Rāma, I shall attain delight like unto that attained by a pauper on gaining riches. Staying in Janasthāna, ye shall gather true information touching Rāma as to what he is about. Repair all ye rangers of the night carefully, and strive yourselves always for slaying Rāma. I have been well acquainted with your strength in many a field, and it is for this that I set ye in Janasthāna." Hearing these agreeable and weighty words of Rāvana, those Rākshasas, bowing down unto Rāvana, left Lankā, and in a body invisibly proceeded in the direction of Janasthāna. Having obtained Mithilā's daughter, Rāvana experienced great joy in establishing her (in his own house); and having created high hostility with Rāma, Rāvana through blindness rejoiced greatly.

SECTION LV.

Having commissioned those eight terrible and mighty Rākshasas, Rāvana, in consequence of perversion of sense, considered himself as crowned with success. And brooding over Vaidehi, he, sore pierced by the shafts of Kāma, hastily entered his charming mansion, with the intention of seeing Sitā. And entering that apartment, Rāvana—lord of Rākshasas—saw the distressed Sitā in the midst of the Rākshasas, with a tearful countenance, oppressed with a load of grief, like unto a bark sinking in the ocean through the violence of the winds; like unto a doe separated from the herd of deer, and surrounded by dogs. Coming to Sitā disconsolate in consequence of stress of sorrow, remaining with her head bent down, that ranger of the night, the lord of the Rākshasas, forcibly shewed unto her that mansion resembling the mansion of the celestials, thick with palaces and lordly piles, inhabited by thousands of females; containing birds of vaious kinds; furnished with various gems; with beautiful pillars of ivory gold and crystal and silver, studded with diamonds and lapises. Rāvana in company with Sitā ascended the beautiful golden stairs, resounding with the sounds of kettle-drums and embellished with ornaments of burnished gold. And those loftly edifices had excellent windows made of ivory and silver, and covered with golden nets. The ground all over was decorated with ambrosia and gems. The Ten-headed one in his own mansion shewed unto Maithilee large tanks and pools covered with various kinds of flowers. (All this) Rāvana shewed unto Sitā overmastered by sorrow. And after having shewed unto Vaidehi the whole of that goodliest of mansions, that wicked one, with the intention of tempting Sitā, spoke unto her, saying, "O Sitā, leaving out old men and boys, I am the lord of thirty two kotis of night-rangers of terrible deeds. And a thousand come forward whenever required for any service.—If such is my sovereignty, all this is established in thee, O large-eyed lady, as well as my life. Thou art dearer unto me than life. O Sitā, be thou the mistress of those numerous excellent women who are my wives. Dear, be thou my wife. This is for thy good. Why shoudst thou act otherwise? Do thou relish my speech. Do thou bend thy mind towards me. It behoves thee to favor me, who am burning (in the heat of desire). This Lankā measuring an hundred Yoyanas girt round by the ocean, is incapable of being harassed by the celestials themselves headed by Indra. Neither among the celestials nor Yakshas nor Gandharbas nor Serpents, find I any one that can match me in prowess. What wilt thou do with Rāma a human being of short life, poor, of small prowess, practising mendicancy? O Sitā, bend thy mind unto me. I am a fit husband for thee. O timed one, youth is uncertain. Sport with me here. And, O thou of a handsome countenance, do not wish for the sight of Rāghava. O Sitā, what power hath he to come hither even in thought? None can fetter the exceedingly fleet wind in the sky, or hold the bright flame of a burning fire. O beauteous one, in these three worlds I find no one that can by his might carry thee away, who art protected by my arms. Do thou govern at Lankā this extensive kingdom. The like of me and celestials and all that are mobile and immobile shall be thy servants. Laving thy limbs with water, do thou gratify me. The evil that thou hadst done, hath been expiated by thy life in the forest: now do thou reap the fruit of thy good deeds. Here are garlands furnished with divine fragrance, and, O Maithili, superb ornaments. Enjoy thou all those along with me. O thou of shapely hips, the car called Pushpaka, resembling the sun, which (formerly) belonged to my brother Vaiçravana, was through my prowess won by me in fight. And vast and beautiful is that car furnished with the speed of the mind. Do thou, O Sitā, at thy pleasure sport on it along with me. Thy face stainless and lovely to look at, resembling the lotus, doth not, O thou of a comely countenance, O magnificent damsel, appear beautiful in consequence of thy being exercised with grief. When Rāvana had spoken thus, that best of females Sitā muffling up her moon-like countenance with the ends of her cloth, began to shed gentle tears. Thereat the heroic ranger of the night, Rāvana, said unto Sitā, distressed, sunk in thought, and deprived of her splendour through anxiety, "O Vaidehi, banish bashfulness, which stands in the way of one's duty. The yearning I feel after thee is in consonance with what the sages prescribe. These tender feet of thine I press upon my heads. Do thou speedily shew thy favor unto me. I am thy slave (ever) obedient unto thee. Let not these words of mine spoken by me under the withering influence of love prove fruitless. Rāvana hath never bowed his head to any female." Having said this, the Ten-headed one, come under the subjection of the Destroyer, looked upon Maithili, Janaka's daughter (as his own) saying, "She is mine."

SECTION LVI.

Having been thus addressed, Vaidehi unaffected by fear, although exercised with grief, placing a blade of grass between herself and Rāvana, answered him, saying, "There was a king named Daçaratha, the bridge of righteousness, like unto a mountain, ever bearing regard towards the truth, and renowned among men, whose son is Rāghava. He is named Rāma, and is righteous-souled and celebrated over the three worlds. He is long-armed, of expansive eyes,—like unto a celestial—he is my husband. Born in the race of the Ikshwākus, he hath the shoulders of a lion and is possessed of exceeding effulgence—the same that along with his brother, Lakshmana, shall take thy life. If thou hadst wronged me forcibly in his presence, thou wouldst have lain in battle in Janasthāna even as Khara." All the mighty Rākshasas of grim visages, whom thou hast extolled (before me) shall be deprived of their venom before Rāma, as serpents are before Suparna. The shafts decorated with gold shot by the bow-string of Rāghava, shall pierce their bodies, as the waves of the Ganga (beat against) her banks, Although, O Rāvana, thou mayst be incapable of being slain either by the gods or the Asuras, yet having roused the high hostility of Rāghava, thou wilt not be able to liberate thy life. The strong Rāghava will compass the end of what remains of thy life. Like the life of a beast tied to the sacrificial stake, thy own is incapable of being reclaimed, Should Rāma look at thee with eyes aglow with anger, thou, O Rākshasa, wouldst be consumed even as Manmatha was by Rudra. He who is able to bring down the Moon or destroy him, and to drink up the ocean dry, will surely liberate Sitā from here. Thy days are numbered, and auspiciousness hath bidden thee adieu. Thou art shorn of strength, and thy senses have been dulled. And it is owing to thee that Lankā shall be subject to widowhood. That thou by force hast for naught carried me away from the side of my husband —this sinful act can never conduce to thy felicity. That exceedingly effulgent lord of mine along with my husband's younger brother, summoning up their energy, is fearlessly dwelling in the vacant Dandaka. By means of an arrowy shower in conflict, he will take thy prowess and strength, thy hauteur and wickedness out of thy person. When urged by the Destroyer, the destruction of creatures is perceptible, then, coming under the sway of the Destroyer, men become careless in their actions. Having outraged me, thou, O worst of Rākshasas, thy time come; for compassing thy own destruction as well as that of the Rākshasas and those dwelling in thy inner apartment. A Chandāla cannot tread the dais reared in the midst of a sacrifice beauteous with ladles, and vessels, and sanctified by the twice-born ones. So I, the religiously wedded wife of that one, ever intent on virtue, and (always) firm in my vows, is incapable, thou vilest of Rākshasas, of being touched by thee, a sinner. How can the female that hath always sported with her mate amidst lotuses, cast her eyes on a shag staying among rushes. Do thou either bind or destroy this body deprived of sensation. This body will I not protect, nor yet this life, O Rāvana; and I shall not be able to bring blame on myself in this world." Having said these harsh words in wrath, Videha's daughter, Jānaki, did not there again say anything unto Rāvana. Hearing Sitā's words, harsh and calculated to make one's down stand on end, Rāvana answered her in words tending to excite one's apprehension, "Hear, O Maithili, my words. O damsel if, O thou of sweet smiles, within this time thou do not turn thyself unto me, the cooks shall cut thee off in pieces to serve my morning meal." Having herself spoken thus, Rāvana,—challenger of foes— growing exceedingly wroth, addressed the Rākshasis in these words, "Ye frightful Rākshasis terrible to behold, subsisting on flesh and gore, do ye at once crush her pride." As soon as he had said this, those frightfnl and terrible Rākshasis with joined hands encircled Maithili. Then the grim-visaged king Rāvana, as if riving the earth by his tread, proceeding a pace or two, said, "Do ye take Maithili to the wood of Asokas. There surrounding her, do ye secretly guard her; and there (sometimes) by storming, and (at others) by means of soft speech, do ye all strive to bring Mithilā's daughter, like a wild female elephant, under your sway." Thus commanded by Rāvana, those Rākshasis taking Maithili along with them, went to the Asoka wood, abounding with trees granting every desire, and filled with various kinds of fruits and flowers; and frequented by fowls fraught with juices at all seasons. And as a doe comes under the subjection of tigresses, Janaka's daughter, Maithili, her frame worked up with grief, came under the sway of the Rākshasis. And like a female deer fast bound by a trap, Janaka's timid daughter Maithili, agitated by the mighty grief, did not attain respite. And greatly up-braided by the fierce eyes (of the Rākshasis), Maithili did not know repose; and, afflicted with grief and fear, she, remembering her beloved lord along with Lakshmana swooned away.

SECTION LVI.

Having slain the Rākshasa, Māricha, able to wear shapes at will, who had been ranging in the form of a deer, Rāma speedily turned back along the path. On Sitā having entered Lankā, the great father addressed the gratified Devendra of an hundred sacrifices, "For bringing about the weal of the three worlds, and the woe of the Rākshasas, Sitā hath been taken into Lankā by the wicked-minded, Rāvana. Devoted unto her husband, the exalted lady always brought up in happiness, not seeing her husband, and seeing (on the other hand) environed by numbers of Rākshasis,—is hungering after the sight of her lord. The city of Lankā is situated on the shores of the lord of rivers and streams. How can Rāma get a knowledge of that blameless one, staying there? Brooding over the various ills she hath undergone, that exceedingly rare damsel is passing her days. Surely she will resign her existence. Great is the doubt that hath arisen as to Sitā putting a period to her existence. Having thyself from here, do thou see the fair-faced Sitā. Having entered the city of Lankā, offer excellent clarified butter." Thus addressed by the reverend chastiser of Paka, Devendra in company with sleep, approached the city ruled by Rāvana. He then addressed sleep, saying, "Go thou; and stupify the Rākshasas." Thus accosted by Maghavat, that goddess, exceedingly delighted, for securing success to the work of the celestials, covered the Rākshasas with stupor. In the meanwhile, that god, the thousand-eyed lord of Sachi went to (Sitā) staying in the woods, and spoke unto her these words, "I am the sovereign of the celestials. Good betide thee! I am here, O thou of luminous smiles! For securing success unto the work of the magnanimous Rāghava, I will lend my aid unto thee. Do not, O daughter of Janaka, grieve. Through my grace, he shall along with his forces cross over the ocean. And, O excellent wench, I have by my supernal power, stupified the Rākshasis. And, O Sitā, for this reason, I along with sleep, taking these rice,—rice boiled in clarified butter, have, O Vaidehi, come unto thee. If thou partake of these from my hand, thou shalt never beuteous one, be afflicted either with hunger or thirst, thou of thighs resembling rambhā (trunks), for years." Thus addressed, Sitā, alarmed, said, "How can I know thee for Devendra, Sachi's husband, staying here? By the side of Rāma and Lakshmana, I had beheld the signs of the celestials. If, O Devendra, thou art thyself the sovereign of the celestials, show those unto me." Hearing Sitā's words, the lord of Sachi did accordingly. He did not touch the earth with his feet, and his eyes remained winkless. He bloomed in youth, and the blossoms did not fade on his attire. Thereupon knowing him for Vasava, Sitā was overjoyed. And weeping, she spoke regarding Rāghava, "By luck it is that I had heard of that mighty-armed one along with his brother. As is my father-in-law, the king, as is the master of Mithilā, so art thou (unto me), thou whom I behold to-day; my husband hath now found a protector.— And by thy command, O Devendra, will I partake of this pāyasa cooked with milk, which hath been offered unto me, and which shall enhance (the prosperity) of our race." Thereupon taking the pāyasa from Indra's hands, that Maithili of luminous smiles (mentally) offered it unto her husband as well as Lakshmana. "If my mighty lord live along with his brother, let this through my reverence for them, be theirs." She then partook of the pāyasa herself. Having thus eaten it, that one of excellent countenance, had her hunger and rising sorrow removed; and attaining a mental tendency from Indra, Jānaki grew glad with reference to the Kākutshthas. And Sakra also for bringing about the success of Rāghava's work, with a pleased mind, went to the abode of celestials. And greeting Sitā again and again, that high-souled celestial, in company with sleep went back to his own abode."

SECTION LVII.

Killing the Rākshasa, Māricha assuming shapes at will and ranging in the shape of a deer, Rāma vended speedily his way. And as he hurried himself, eager to behold Maithili, jackals began to howl hideously at his back. Hearing their harsh cries, capable of making one's hair stand on end, Rāma struck with fear at the voices of the jackals, became filled with alarm. "Ah! I consider this as inauspicious— that these jackals are crying. Escaping being devoured by the Rākshasas, may fair fortune befall Vaidehi! If Lakshmana should have heard the cries which Māricha, knowing my voice, and fixing on the means of harming me, uttered in the form of a deer, Saumitri, hearing that voice, leaving Mithilā's daughter and commissioned by herself, must have come near me. Surely, the Rākshasas in a body are desirous of slaying Sitā. Becoming a golden deer, Māricha, having allured me far, transformed himself into a Rākshasa, as soon as he had been struck with my shafts; and exclaimed, 'Ah! Lakshmana, slain am I.' It is doubtless, we having left (Sitā), whether all is well with her. I having raised the hostility of the Rākshasas for the sake of Janasthāna; and many and dreadful are the omens I see (around me)." Thus reflecting as he heard the bowlings of the jackals, the self-possessed Rāma with hasty steps returned to the asylum. Rāghava went back to Janasthāna, alarmed in consequence of his having been drawn away by the Rākshasa in the form of a deer. And birds and beasts approached that high-souled one distressed and depressed in spirit; and staying on his left set up frightful cries. As he was witnessing the exceedingly dreadful signs, Rāghava saw Lakshmana coming with a lacklustre (countenance); and Lakshmana came up to Rāma. And depressed in spirit, he was rendered still more sad by that one who, afflicted with depression shared his sorrow. And, seeing that (Lakshmana) had come, leaving Sitā in that solitary wood frequented by Rākshasas, his brother fell to reprimanding him. And taking Lakshmana's left; hand, the son of Raghu in extreme distress sweetly spake these rough words, "Alas! Lakshmana, thou hast committed a censurable act; leaving Sitā, O mild one, thou hast come hither. Is it well with her? I make no doubt, O hero, but that Janaka's daughter hath either been slain or devoured by Rākshasas ranging the forest. And, considering the many omens that take place before me, O Lakshmana, I do not know whether we shall light upon welfare of Janaka's daughter Sitā being alive, O best of men. And as these multitudes of beasts and these jackals are crying frightfully in the flaming direction,⁶⁰ I do not know, O thou of mighty strength, whether it is well with that daughter of the king. This Rākshasa, who, wearing the shape of a deer, and, alluring me, had drawn me far, hath in some sort been slain by me with much ado; and he became a Rākshasa at the time of his death. Yet my mind is poor and cheerless; and my left eye throbs. Doubtless, O Lakshmana, Sitā is not,—she is either carried away, or dead, or is wandering on the way.

SECTION LVIII.

Seeing Lakshmana cast down, cheerless, and come without Vaidehi, the righteous son of Daçaratha, asked him, saying, "Where, O Lakshmana is that Vaidehi, who hath followed me unto the Dandaka forest, and leaving whom thou hast come hither? Where is that one of a slender waist, who is the help in trouble of me, deprived of my kingdom, dispirited, and running about the Dandakas? Without whom, hero, I cannot live for a moment—where is that life's help of me Sitā resembling the daughter of a celestial? O Lakshmana, without Janaka's daughter (hued) like burning gold, I covet not the sovereignty of the celestials or the earth. Liveth Vaidehi, dearer unto me than life? Shall this exile of mine be of no avail? O Sumitra's son, on my dying for Sitā and thy returning (to the city,) shall Kaikeyi have her desire, and attain felicity; and shall Kauçalyā,— her son dead, and herself wearing the guise of a female mendicant, humbly wait upon Kaikeyi when she shall have succeeded in obtaining the kingdom for her son? If Vaidehi live, I will then return to the asylum; but O Lakshmana, if that one of excellent character should happen to be dead, I will also renounce my life. If, O Lakshmana, Vaidehi ever preluding her speech with a smile should not speak to me when I arrive at the asylum, I shall give up my life. Do thou tell me, O Lakshmana, whether Videha's daughter liveth or not; or whether, in consequence of thy acting heedlessly, that forlorn wench hath been devoured by Rākshasas. Of a tender frame, and a mere girl, Vaidehi, never having experienced unhappiness being cast down, surely weepeth for my separation. When that exceedingly wicked Rākshasa cried, "Lakshmana" at the top of his voice, wast thou also seized with fear? And I apprehend that voice resembling mine was heard by Vaidehi; and, despatched by her from fear, thou mayst have come hither swiftly to see⁶¹ me. Thou hast every way acted unwisely in having left Sitā alone in the wood. By this thou hast afforded opportunity to the cruel Rākshasas to repair the mischief (I have done them). The Rākshasas subsisting on flesh are aggrieved because of Khara having been slain; and now, without doubt, those terrible ones have slain Sitā. Alas! absolutely sunk am I in peril, O destroyer of foes. What shall I do now? I fear such an event was appointed for me." Thus thinking of Sitā, paragon among women, Rāghava hastily went to Janasthāna in company with Lakshmana. Taking to task his younger brother of distressed visage, Rāma, afflicted with hunger and thirst, and dejected in spirits, sighing heavily with a countenance turned pale, entered the asylum and found it vacant. And entering his own asylum, that hero went to the play-grounds (of Sitā) and remembering the sporting ground (of Sitā) in that abode, he was filled with grief and his down stood on end.

SECTION LIX.

When coming out of the hermitage, Raghu's descendant, Rāma, after a while, from grief, spake these words to the son of Sumitrā, "When confiding myself in thee, I had left Maithili with thee in the wood, why then didst thou go oat, leaving her behind? O Lakshmana, directly I saw thee approach, renouncing Maithili, my mind, apprehending great wrong, became really aggrieved. O Lakshmana, seeing thee coming at a distance, renouncing her, my left eye and arm as well as ray heart keep throbbing." Thus accosted, Lakshmana having auspicious signs, afflicted with great grief, said unto the aggrieved Rāma, "I have not come hither, of my own accord, renouncing Sitā; but I have come to thee, having been urged thereto by herself with rudeness. The cries of "O Lakshmana, save me," as if uttered by the master, came to the ears of Maithili. Hearing those distressful accents, Maithili from affection [for thee], breaking out into lamentations, and overwhelmed with fear, spoke unto me, "Off," "off." On being repeatedly urged, with "Go," I answered Maithili in these words, tending to inspire her confidence, 'I do not see such a Rākshasa, as can excite his fear. Do thou desist. These cries do not come from him; but must have been uttered by some one else. How can he that can rescue the celestials themselves, utter, O Sitā, such a blame-worthy and base word as—save [me]? Some one far some purpose, assuming my brothers voice, is crying— O Lakshmana, save me. O beauteous lady, these words, Save me—must have been uttered by some Rākshasa from fear. Thou shouldst not act like a mean woman. Do not be overwhelmed; and banish thy anxiety. There breathes no person, nor yet shall there be born any one in these three worlds who in the field shall vanquish Rāghava in fight. Rāghava is incapable of being beaten in battle by the very gods headed by Indra.' Thus addressed (by me) Vaidehi, deprived of her sense, shedding tears, spake unto me these cruel words, 'Thou cherishest the vile idea that on thy brother perishing, thou shalt come by me; but me thou shalt never have. As thou dost not go to him albeit he is crying loudly (for help), thou followest Rāma in consonance with a hint from Bharata. A foe going about in disguise, thou followest Rāma for my sake, prying into Rāghava's draw backs; and it is for this that thou dost not go (to him)?' Thus accosted by Vaidehi, I, with eyes reddened in wrath, and my nether lip swollen in ire, rushed out of "the asylum." When Saumitri had spoken thus, Rāma transported by grief, said unto Lakshmana, "O gentle one, thou hast done wrong in having come out hither without her. Although thou knewest (full well) that I was able to withstand the Rākshasas, yet didst thou sally out at the angry words of Mithilā's daughter. I am not pleased with thee that hearing her harsh speech spoken in wrath, thou hast come hither, leaving Vaidehi behind. Thou hast every way done wrong in not acting out my mandate in consequence of being urged by Sitā, and under the influence of indignation. That Rākshasa lieth low, being wounded by my shafts—that had drawn me away from the asylum wearing the form of a deer. I hit him stretching my brow slightly and fixing the shaft on it; when, renouncing his deer-form he became a Rākshasa wearing a bracelet and began to emit distressful shrieks. Wounded by my shaft, he, assuming my voice, and in accents capable of being heard from far, uttered those dreadful words fraught with dole, hearing which, thou hast come hither, renouncing Mithilā's daughter."

SECTION LX.

As Rāma went on, his feet failed him, his left eye began to beat, and a trembling came over his frame. Seeing again and again all these signs, he continually kept on asking (Lakshmana), "Is it well with Sitā?" Eager to behold Sitā, he proceeded fast; but finding the abode empty, he was filled with anxiety. And proceeding with swiftness, throwing about his limbs, Raghu's son began to survey all around the hut. He then found it empty of Sitā, like unto a tank in evil plight and bereft of lotuses—during the winter. And seeing the cottage empty, with its trees as if sorrowing, and its flowers faded, and its beasts and birds sunk in gloom,— shorn of grace, worn out, forsaken by the sylvan deities, strewn with deer-skins and Kuça, and twists of Kāsa, he wept again and again—"Hath the timid one been carried off, or is she dead, or hath any one eaten her up, or hath she vanished (from the earth), or hath she gone to the wood, or hath she gone to cull flowers and fruits, or hath she gone to the pool for procuring water, or hath she repaired to the river? Although he searched his beloved one carefully, yet he failed to find her out in the wood-land. And that graceful one with his eyes reddened with grief, seemed like a maniac. And he rushed from tree to tree, and bewailing being sunk in an occean of grief traversed all the rivers and mountains. "O Kadamba, hast thou seen where is that one fond of Kadamba groves? If knowest thou this do thou tell me of Sitā having an auspicious countenance. O Bilya, tell me pray, if thou hast seen her, wearing silken cloth, resembling cool leaves and having breast like unto Bilya fruits. Or, O Aryunā, she was very fond of thee, tell me if liveth that daughter of Janaka of slender frame. This Kakuva knoweth for certain about Maithilee having thighs like unto Kakuva. Yon stands beautifully that Banaspati being enveloped with creepers, flowers and leaves and filled with the hum of Vramaras. Surely doth this Tilaka know about her who was fond of her. O Asoka, who doth remove sorrows, do thou make good thy name by making me, who am exercised with grief, see instantly my beloved (spouse). O Tala, if thou hast any pity on me do thou tell me whether thou hast beheld that fair damsel having breast resembling ripe Tala fruits. Do thou tell me without fear, O Jāmbhu, if thou hast seen my dear one resembling in hue the river Jāmbhu. O Karnikar, thou appearest very beautiful with this blossoming flowers, tell me if thou hast seen my dear devoted wife who was fond of thee." Thus the highly famous Rāma asking about Sitā, nearing the various trees such as mangoe, Nipa, Mahasālā, Panaça, Kurava, Pomegranate, Vakula, Pumnaga, Sandal and Keta began to traverse the forest like a maniac. Again addressed he the diverse animals—"O deer, knowest thou for certain about Jānaki having the eyes of a doe; is she engaged in play with the does? O elephant, methinks thou dost know about the daughter of Janaka having thighs resembling thy trunk; pray tell me if thou hast beheld her. O tiger, fearlessly do thou relate unto me if thou hast seen my beloved Maithilee, having a countenance resembling Moon. O dear! O thou having eyes like unto lotuses! why dost thou fly away? Surely have I seen thee. Why dost thou not address me hiding thyself behind the tree? Wait, wait, O thou fair damsel, thou hast no compassion for me! Never hadst thou mock me before in this way! Why dost thou neglect me now? O exquisitely fair damsel, truly have I found thee out from this thy yellow silken cloth. I have seen thee flying away. Stand if thou hast any love for me. Or, O thou having a sweet smile, thou art not she; truly thou hast been killed or else thou wouldst not have neglected me at this time of dire affliction. True it is that she hath been devoured in my absence by the Rākshasas living on flesh having torn into pieces her limbs. Truly hath her face, resembling the full-moon, having beautiful teeth a fine nose and white Kundalas, become of pale countenance being brought under the possession of the Rākshasas. Her neck had the hue of sandal and was adorned with necklace—that beautiful tender neck was eaten up by the Rākshasas, my beloved wife wailing. Her arms were tender like leaves and adorned with various ornaments; truly have the Rākshasas eaten them up, shaken as they were, by throwing them here and there. Alas! did I leave her alone only to be devoured by the Rākshasas? And she hath been eaten up like one weak and helpless albeit she has many friends. O Lakshmana, O thou of mighty-arms, hast thou seen where my dear wife is? O dear! O Sitā! where hast thou gone?" Bewailing again and again in this strain Rāma began to range the forest. Sometimes leaping, sometimes walking in an uncertain direction, again and again he looked like one void of sense. And again intent on searching Sitā he furiously engaged in traversing the rivers, mountains, fountains and the woods. He could not wait paitently anywhere. Entering a vast forest he searched every nook and corner for Maithilee; his desire was not satisfied and he again engaged with great labour in the finding out of his dear spouse.

SECTION LXI.

Beholding the hermitage and cottage desolate and the seats strewn here and there, Rāma the son of Daçaratha looked around. And finding Sitā nowhere he raised up his beautiful arm and broke out into lamentations saying, "O Lakshmana where is Sitā? Where has she gone hence? O Saumitri, who hath carried away my dear one or who hath devoured her? O Sitā, if wishest thou to mock me, hiding thyself behind the tree, enough—enough it is—console me who am exercised with grief. O pleasant Sitā, without thee these faithful little deer have engaged in meditation being bathed in tears. Without Sitā I shall not breathe, O Lakshmana. A mighty grief hath overtaken me in consequence of her being carried away. My father the monarch shall surely behold me in the next world and ask me 'I engaged thee in the observance of a vow; without fulfilling that, why hast thou come here? O shame on thee!' For certain shall my father address me with these words relating to my passionate, false and base conduct. All my desires have now been baffled and I have lost all control over myself and have been exercised with grief. O fine damsel, O thou of slender waist, where dost thou repair leaving me behind like unto fame renouncing a person of vicious nature? Without thee I shall renounce my own life." Being desirous of seeing Sitā, Rāma afflicted with grief began to bewail in this strain, but did not behold the daughter of Janaka. Being sunk in grief on Sitā's account he became worn out like unto an elephant fallen in mud. Thereat for his well being, Lakshmana spoke unto him saying, "O thou of mighty intellect— do not grieve. Do thou put forth thy endeavours along with me. There is that high hill, O hero, containing many a cave. Maithili who is fond of ranging the forest and ever delighteth in beholding the flowery woods, must have entered therein or have gone to the watering-place blooming with flowerets and lotuses. She has gone to the river abounding in fish and Banjulas or has hidden herself somewhere in the forest to frighten us and to know, O best of men, how we can search her out. O thou of great beauty, let us soon engage in quest of her. O Kākuthstha, if thinkest thou that she is somewhere in this forest, we shall leave no quarter untried. Do thou not grieve." After Lakshmana had spoken thus out of fraternal affection, Rāma, with a composed heart, set out along with him in quest of Sitā. And searching every nook and corner of the mountains, rivers, ponds, table-lands, hills and summits they found Sitā nowhere. And searching thus all the mountains Rāma spake unto Lakshmana saying "Behold not I the auspicious Vaidehi on this mountain, O Saumitri." Ranging the entire forest of Dandaka, Lakshmana, sore distressed, spake unto his brother of flaming energy, saying "Surely shalt thou come by Maithili the daughter of Janaka like unto the mighty armed Vishnu obtaining this earth after having bound Vāli." Being thus addressed by the heroic Lakshmana, Rāghava, greatly afflicted with sorrow, replied in piteous accents—"O thou of mighty intellect I have searched every nook of this forest, this pool abounding in blown lotuses, and this mountain containing many a cave and fountain; but nowhere have I seen Vaidehi dearer than my life." Thus bewailing Rāma, racked with sorrow consequent on Sitā, being carried away, became poorly and afflicted with grief and swooned away for sometime. He lost his sense and his whole frame was worked with grief. Being grfeatly anxious and breathless he sighed hot and fast and began to lament. And sobbing again and again the lotus-eyed Rāma bewailed with his voice choked with the vapour of grief, exclaiming "Ah Sitā!" Thereat his dear brother Lakshmana, aggrieved, consoled him with joined hands. But passing by the words dropping from Lakshmana's lips Rāma again and again bewailed not beholding his dear Sitā.

SECTION LXII.

Not beholding Sitā the virtuous-souled Rāma, of mighty arms, having eyes resembling lotuses, beside himself with grief, lamented (in many a way). Pierced with the shafts of Manmatha, Rāghava, as if beholding Sitā though he actually did not see her, uttered the following piteous accents—"O my dear, thou delightest greatly in flowers. Covering thy own person with Asoka twigs thou art increasing my grief. Thy thighs are like unto the trunks of plantain trees and thou hast hidden thyself behind the plantain grove. But I percieve thee, O fair one, thou art incapable of keeping thyself hidden. O auspicious one, thou hast entered smiling the Karnikar grove. No more with thy pastime, O dear one, leading to my death. Moreover it is not proper to sport in this way in a hermitage. I know it full well, O my dear, that thou art by nature fond of pastimes. But O thou of expansive eyes, this cottage lieth desolate, do thou come here. Evident it is that Sitā hath either been devoured by the Rākshasas or carried away by them, and therefore she doth not approach me, O Lakshmana, who am thus bewailing. These deer, O Lakshmana, with tearful eyes have been as if declaring that Sitā hath been devoured by the night-rangers. O chaste one, O thou of exquisitely fine hue, O worshipful madam, whither hast thou repaired? O Sitā, truly hath the desire of Kaikeyi been fulfilled to-day. I came out with Sitā and shall return home without her. How shall I enter again that inner apartment void of Sitā? Surely shall the people blame me as being cruel and destitute of energy. That I have no prowess hath already been manifested in the destruction of Sitā. When the king Janaka shall come to me after my return home from exile, to ask me of my welfare how shall I meet him? And surely shall he be overwhelmed with grief on his daughter's account when he shall find me without Sitā. Blessed is my father since he is in heaven now. I shall not repair to that city protected by Bharata. Without her even the heaven itself appears to me as desolate. Do thou therefore repair to the city of Ayodhya leaving me in this forest. By no means shall I breathe without her. Embracing him warmly do thou tell Bharata, as instructed by me— 'Rāma hath given thee permission to administer this kingdom.' As ordered by me do thou with proper respect salute all my mothers Kauçalya, Kaikeyi and Sumitrā and protect them all with great care and respectful compliments. O destroyer of foes, do thou relate at length unto my mother the story of Sitā's destruction." Rāma bewailing thus, being overwhelmed with grief on account of his separation from Sitā having a head of fine hair, Lakshmana became of pale countenance and was greatly distressed at heart.

SECTION LXIII.

That son of a king, stricken as he was with grief consequent upon separation from his dear one, was again overwhelmed with a terrible grief after causing sorrow unto his brother. Sunk in the abyss of grief, Rāma, sighing hot and weeping piteously, spoke unto Lakshmana who was equally aggrieved, words worthy of being said on that occasion. "Me thinks there is none other on this earth like me, the perpetrator of vicious crimes. My heart or soul is not riven though crushed again and again without respite with a multitude of doleful events. Surely did I perpetrate many a vicious deed in my previous birth, the fruit of which I do now suffer and in consequence whereof misfortune after misfortune hath befallen me. Coming within the compass of my remembrance, the loss of my kingdom, the death of my father, the separation of my mother and other kinsmen culminates my grief. Repairing unto woods, O Lakshmana, in Sitā's company my grief was assuaged, nay I did not suffer physical affliction even. Without Sitā these sorrows have grown anew like unto fire flaming again by means of fuel. Truly my wife, timid as she is, hath been carried away by a Rākshasa by the etherial track. Alas I doubtless it is, that one of pleasant accents, wept piteously out of fear many a time and oft. For certain my dear wife's breast round and sprinkled as it was with red sandal paste, was bathed in blood (while devoured by the Rākshasas)—but there is no death for me. That countenance the beauty of which was enhanced by a head of curly hair and which used to emit forth tender, soft and clear accents, hath become pale, being taken possession of by the Rākshasas like unto the Moon almost devoured by Rāhu. Surely have the Rākshasas subsisting on gore drunk her blood in the sky tearing oft the neck of my dear one ever devoted to pious observances. Surely did that one of beautifully expansive eyes cry aloud poorly like unto a hind when she was drawn hither and thither by the Rākshasas encircling her in the forest in my absence. O Lakshmana, sitting at the foot of this hill with me that large-hearted, pious Sitā, of smilling countenance, used to address thee on many a topic. This is Godavari, the best of rivers, my dear wife took delight in her— has she gone there?—But she never goes there alone. Or has Jānaki having eyes resembling lotus-petals hath gone to bring lotuses? But how is that possible, she never goes without me to bring lotuses. Hath she entered at her pleasure this forest filled with many flowery trees and diverse birds? But that is not possible too—she is timid and feareth much to enter alone in this forest. O Aditya, knowest thou the pious and vicious actions of men; beareth thou testimony to the truth and untruth of their actions—do thou tell me, pray, who am striken with grief, whither hath my dear one repaired, or whether hath she been killed? O Air, there is nothing on earth which is not within the compass of thy vision, do thou relate unto me whether Sitā preserving the fame of my ancestry, hath been killed or carried away or if she waiteth on the way." After Rāma had bewailed thus being beside himself with grief, Saumitri, ever treading the right path and not of poorly mind spoke words worthy of being said on that occasion.—"Do thou take heart renouncing thy grief and engage with energy in quest of Sitā. Persons of high energy are never exhausted on the earth even in the face of arduous works." The highly powerful Lakshmana having spoken thus being afflicted with grief, Rāma, the best of Raghu's descendants, did not consider that worth pondering over. Renouncing patience he again indulged in excessive grief.

SECTION LXIV.

Rāma stricken with grief spake unto Lakshmana the following piteous words saying, "O Lakshmana, do thou speedily repair to the river Godaveri and learn if Sitā hath gone there to fetch lotuses." Being thus addressed by Rāma, the quick-paced Lakshmana went to the pleasant stream Godaveri. Reconnoitering full well the river containing many a watering-place Lakshmana spake unto Rāma saying, "Searched have I all the watering-places but have found her nowhere—anon I cried aloud but she did not hear. I cannot trace whither hath Vaidehi of slender waist repaired ever assuaging our mental affliction." Hearing Lakshmana' s words, Rāma, aggrieved and overwhelmed with sorrow repaired in person to the river Godaveri. Arriving there cried he "Where is Sitā?" Neither did the world of creatures nor the river Godaveri apprise Rāma of Sitā's being carried away by the Lord of Rākshasas worthy of being slain. Thinking of the terrible figure and monstrous actions of that vicious-souled Rāvana, that river did not dare relate unto him anything about Sitā, albeit appointed by the creatures to relate the story concerning her and accosted by Rāma in piteous accents. Being thus disappointed by the river in beholding Sitā, Rāma racked with her separation spake unto Lakshmana saying "O thou of auspicious looks, this river Godavari doth give no reply. But O Lakshmana, returning without her what shall I say unto Janaka and Vaidehi's mother? Where hath that Vaidehi gone who used to assuage my grief who had been deprived of kingdom and living in this forest on wild fruits and vegetables? Nights shall appear too long unto me, keeping late hours being deprived of my kinsmen and relatives and not beholding Vaidehi. I can range this Mandākini, this Janasthāna and this Pasrabana hill if I can find Sitā there. Behold, O hero, the high deer have been casting their looks again and again at men; methinks from their gestures, they intend speaking something uoto me." Beholding them, Rāghava, the best of men, looked at them and said in accents choked with vapour—"Where is Sitā?" Being thus addressed by that Lord of men the deer rose up all on a sudden and looked up to the sky facing the south and proceeded to the direction by which Maithili had been carried away. And moving by that way these deer eyed the Lord of men and again and again fixed their looks upon that way and earth and passed along emitting cries which was marked by Lakshmana. He marked with attention their movements and cries and spake unto his elder brother like one aggrieved saying—"Being accosted by thee with—'Where is Sitā?' these deer have stood up all on a sudden and have been pointing to the south and earth— let us therefore proceed in this direction—it may be that we shall either meet with that worshipful madam or find some mementos concerning her." Thereat Kākuthstha, gifted with supreme beauty, proceeded towards the south being followed by Lakshmana and casting his look upon the earth. While proceeding thus, conversing with each other the two brothers beheld some flowers scattered on the high-way.

Beholding a collection of flowers scattered on earth, Rāma, exceedingly sorry, spake unto Lakshmana in piteous accents saying "O Lakshmana, 1 have come to know that these are the flowers of the forest I gave Vaidehi; with these she decorated her hair. Me thinks the sun, the air and the famed earth have preserved them for my well-being." Having spoken these words unto Lakshmana, the best of men, the virtuous-souled Rāma, of mighty arms, addressed the mountain in front of him containing many fountains, saying—"0 thou the best of mountains, hast thou beheld in this picturesque forest-land, that exquisitely fine damsel racked with my separation?" Exceedingly wroth he accosted the mountain like unto a lion addresing a little deer, saying "Show me my graceful Sitā hued like gold before I crush down thy summits." Being thus addressed by Rāma on Maithili's account the mountain did not show him Sitā. Again addressed him Rāma—"Thou shalt by the fire of my arrows, be reduced to ashes—thy twigs and leaves shall be totally destroyed and no one shall resort to thee. O Lakshmana, I shall dry up this river Godavari if it telleth me not about Sitā having a moon-like countenance." Rāma, exceedingly wroth, cast his looks around as if desiring to burn everything with his eyes and beheld footprints of the Rākshasas on the earth as well as those of Sitā moving wildly hither and thither, terrified and desirous to see Rāma, while pursued by the Rākshasas. Beholding these footmarks, the snapped bow, the quiver and the chariot broken into many pieces, Rāma, terrified spake unto his dear brother. "Behold O, Lakshmana, the remnants of Vaidehi's golden ornaments, strewn hither and thither, and diverse garlands. Behold O Saumitri, the earth covered with drops of blood resembling golden drops. Methinks, O Lakshmana, Vaidehi hath been devoured by the Rākshasas assuming shapes at will, having sundered her in pieces. O Saumitri, there took place a terrible conflict between the Rākshasas, fighting with each other on Sitā's account. O gentle one, whose is this snapped bow lying on the breast of the earth adorned and crested with pearls and diamonds? O brother, this belongs either to the celestials or to the Rākshasas. Whose is this golden armour lying shattered on earth, resembling the newly risen sun; in color and adorned with sapphire? Whose is this umbrella lying broken on earth, containing a hundred rod and adorned with celestial garlands? In whose conflict have these terrible asses, of large proportions, having faces of demon and with breast plates, been killed? Whose is this shattered war-car lying upset on the ground and broken flag resembling in lustre the burning gold? Whose are these terrible arrows feathered in gold, measuring four-hundred fingers, lying without blades on earth? Behold, O Lakshmana, these two quivers have been totally spoiled though filled with arrows. Whose charioteer is this who hath been killed with reins and lash in hands? These foot-marks must be some Rākshasa's. I made these Rākshasas my fatal enemies, assuming shapes at will and of crooked hearts. Poor Sitā must have been either dead, carried away by them or devoured. Virtue did not save her from being carried away in this mighty forest. O Lakshmana, while virtue did not protect Jānaki being devoured or taken away by stealth, what person else gifted with heavenly power, on this earth shall bring about my well-being? For this it is that people through ignorance disregard the ever kind Almighty—the lord of creatures and the best of the celestials. Truly shall the celestials regard me as one devoid of prowess, who am mild-tempered, kind, ever engaged in the welfare of the humanity, and have controlled all my senses. Observe, O Lakshmana, obtaining me as the stay these accomplishments have been turned into so many blemishes. Truly shall my prowess manifest itself to-day overshadowing all my other accomplishments for the destruction of the Rākshasas and all created beings like unto the rising of the Sun casting the Moon into shade on the day of dissolution. None shall enjoy felicity, O Lakshmana,—Yakshas, Gandharbas, Picachas, Rākshasas, Kinnaras, or human beings. Today shall the welkin be filled up with my arrows. Motionless shall I make all the animals inhabiting the three worlds. I shall arrest the movement of the planets and overshadow the Moon. Stopping the course of the wind and destroying the rays of the Sun and fire I shall envelope the earth with darkness, crush down the summits of the mountains, dry up the pools, blow up the creepers, demolish the Ocean and erradicate the trees. If the celestials do not give me back my Sitā I shall bring about the dissolution of the three worlds which would else have been wrought by time. O son of Sumitrā, instantly shall the celestials headed by Indra, meet with my prowess, if they do not give back my Sitā, ever advancing my wellfare. None shall be able to range the welkin. Behold Lakshmana, being perpetually crushed down by my arrow's shot off my bow, the world shall be disturbed and dislodged and the animals and birds shall be confused and destroyed. Stretching the bow to my ears I shall make the world, for Sitā's sake, void of Pisachas and Rākshasas with my arrows incapable of being withstood by created beings. To-day shall the celestials behold the power of my arrows coursing a long distance shot through my ire. Three worlds destroyed on account of my wrath, celestials, Dānavas, Pisachas or Rākshasas,—none shall be saved. The dwellings of the celestials, Asuras, Yakshas and Rākshasas shall fall down sundered by my arrows into diverse pieces. I shall dislodge the whole world by my arrows. If the celestials do not give me back my Vaidehi dead or carried away or as she was before, I shall destroy the whole world mobile or immobile and disturb all with my arrows until I see her." Having spoken thus, Rāma, with his eyes reddened with ire and lips swollen, tying fast his bark and deer-skin, braided his matted locks. Having done this, being exceedingly wroth he looked like Rudra about to destroy Tripura. Thereat taking his bow from Lakshmana and holding it fast, the effulgent Rāma, the conqueror of foes, fixed flaming arrows to it like so many serpents and said being exercised with ire like unto fire on the eve of dissolution.—"O Lakshmana none shall be able to withstand me, who am inflamed with rage, as debility consequent on old age, death, time, duty are incapable of being averted from their destined ends by the animals. I shall bring about a mighty revolution in the world containing the celestials Gandharba, human beings, Pannagas and the mountains, if I do not get back, in her pristine beauty, my Sitā, the daughter of the King of Mithilā."