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Ramayana, Epic of Rama, Prince of India

An Abbreviated Translation of the Indian Classic, the Ramayana by Romesh Chundar Dutt in 2,000 verses

X. The War in Ceylon -

X. The War in Ceylon - 130 Breathes upon the earth no warrior who could face thee in the fight, Who could live to boast his triumph o’er thy world-subduing might, But the will of Fate is changeless, Death is mighty in his sway, – Peerless Rama, faithful Lakshman, sleep the sleep that knows no day! But I weep not for my Rama nor for Lakshman young and brave, They have done a warrior’s duty and have found a warrior’s grave, [141] And I weep not for my sorrows, – sorrow marked me from my birth – Child of Earth I seek in suffering bosom of my mother Earth! But I grieve for dear Kausalya, sonless mother, widowed queen, How she reckons days and seasons in her anguish ever green, How she waits with eager longing till her Rama’s exile o’er, He would soothe her lifelong sorrow, bless her aged eyes once more, Sita’s love! Ayodhya’s monarch! Queen Kausalya’s dearest born! Rama soul of truth and virtue sleeps the sleep that knows no morn!” Sorely wept the sorrowing Sita in her accents soft and low, And the silent stars of midnight wept to witness Sita’s woe, But Trijata her companion, – though a Raksha woman she, – Felt her soul subdued by sadness, spake to Sita tenderly: “Weep not, sad and saintly Sita, shed not widow’s tears in vain, For thy lord is sorely wounded, but shall live to fight again, Rama and the gallant Lakshman, fainting, not bereft of life, They shall live to fight and conquer, – thou shall be a happy wife. Mark the Vanars’ marshalled forces, listen to their warlike cries, ’Tis not thus the soldiers gather when a chief and hero dies, ’Tis not thus round lifeless leader muster warriors true and brave, For when falls the dying helmsman, sinks the vessel in the wave! Mark the ring of hopeful Vanars, how they watch o’er Rama’s face, How they guard the younger Lakshman beaming yet with living grace, Trust me, sad and sorrowing Sita, marks of death these eyes can trace, Shade of death’s decaying lingers sweeps not o’er thy Rama’s face!

X. The War in Ceylon - 131 Listen more, my gentle Sita, though a captive in our keep, For thy woes and for thy anguish see a Raksha woman weep, Though thy Rama armed in battle is our unrelenting foe, For a true and stainless warrior see a Raksha filled with woe! [142] Fainting on the field of battle, blood-ensanguined in their face, They shall live to fight and conquer, worthy of their gallant race, Cold nor rigid are their features, darkness dwells not on their brow, Weep not thus, my gentle Sita, – hasten we to Lanka now.” And Trijata spake no falsehood, by the winged GARUDA’S skill, Rama and the valiant Lakshman lived to fight their foemen still! III. Ravan’s First Battle – The Javelin-Stroke ’Gainst the God-assisted Rama, Ravan’s efforts all were vain, Leaguered Lanka vainly struggled in her adamantine chain, Wrathful Rakshas with their forces vainly issued through the gate, Chiefs and serried ranks of warriors met the same resistless fate! Dark-eyed chief Dhumraksha sallied with the fierce tornado’s shock, Hanuman of peerless prowess slayed him with a rolling rock, Iron-toothéd Vajra-danshtra dashed through countless Vanars slain, But the young and gallant Angad laid him lifeless on the plain, Akampan unshaken warrior issued out of Lanka’s wall, Hanuman was true and watchful, speedy was the Raksha’s fall, Then the mighty-armed Prahasta strove to break the hostile line, But the gallant Nila felled him as the woodman fells the pine! Bravest chiefs and countless soldiers sallied forth to face the fight, Broke not Rama’s iron circle, ’scaped not Rama’s wond’rous might, Ravan could no longer tarry for his mightiest chiefs were slain, Foremost leaders, dearest kinsmen, lying on the gory plain! [143] “Lofty scorn of foes unworthy spared them from my flaming ire, But the blood of slaughtered kinsmen claims from me a vengeance dire,”

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