The Ramayana/Book II/Canto CXII: The Sandals

High wonder mingled with delight Took the great sages at the sight. Thrilling their breasts who came to view The meeting of the peerless two. The saints and sages' holy train Departed to their home again. And high each holy voice was raised, And thus the glorious brothers praised. 'High fate is his, the sire of two Most virtuous sous, so brave and true: With wonder and with joy intense Our ears have heard their conference. Then the great sages, longing all To see the ten-necked tyrant fall, To Bharat, bravest of the brave, Their salutary counsel gave: 'O thou of lofty lineage born, Whom wisdom, conduct, fame adorn, Thou for thy honoured father's sake Shouldst Ráma's righteous counsel take. All debts to Queen Kaikeyí paid, Thy sire his home in heaven has made, So virtuous Ráma we would see From filial obligation free.' Thus gave each royal sage advice, High saint, and bard of Paradise; Then quickly vanishing from view Each to his proper home withdrew. Then Ráma's face his rapture showed, And his full heart with joy o'erflowed, While, as the sages parted thence, He paid his humble reverence. Then Bharat shook in every limb As suppliant thus he spake to him: 'The duty of a king respect, Held by our race in high respect: And O, thy gracious ear incline To heed my mother's prayer and mine. The mighty realm to rule and guard For me alone is task too hard. No power have I the love to gain Of noble, citizen, and swain. All those who know thee, warrior, friend, On thee their eager glances bend, As labouring hinds who till the plain Look fondly for the Lord of Rain. O wisest Prince, thy realm secure, And make its firm foundations sure. Kakutstha's son, thy mighty arm Can keep the nation free from harm.' He spoke, and fell in sorrow drowned At Ráma's feet upon the ground, And there the hero sued and sighed, And 'Hear me, Raghu's son,' he cried. Then Ráma raised him up, and pressed His brother to his loving breast, And sweetly as a wild swan cried To Bharat dark and lotus-eyed: 'So just and true thy generous soul, Thy hand may well this earth control: But many a sage his aid will lend. With counsellor, and peer, and friend: With these advise: their counsel ask, And so perform thy arduous task. The moon his beauty may forgo, The cold forsake the Hills of Snow, And Ocean o'er his banks may sweep, But I my father's word will keep. Now whether love of thee or greed Thy mother led to plan the deed, Forth from thy breast the memory throw, And filial love and reverence show.' Thus spake Kaus'alyá's son: again Bharat replied in humble strain To him who matched the sun in might And lovely as the young moon's light: 'Put, noble brother, I entreat, These sandals on thy blessed feet: These, lord of men, with gold bedecked, The realm and people will protect.' Then Ráma, as his brother prayed Beneath his feet the sandals laid, And these with fond affection gave To Bharat's hand, the good and brave. Then Bharat bowed his reverent head And thus again to Ráma said: 'Through fourteen seasons will I wear The hermit's dress and matted hair: With fruit and roots my life sustain, And still beyond the realm remain, Longing for thee to come again. The rule and all affairs of state I to these shoes will delegate. And if, O tamer of thy foes, When fourteen years have reached their close, I see thee not that day return, The kindled fire my frame shall burn. Then Ráma to his bosom drew Dear Bharat and S'atrughna too: 'Be never wroth,' he cried, 'with her, Kaikeyí's guardian minister: This, glory of Ikshváku's line, Is Sítá's earnest prayer and mine.' He spoke, and as the big tears fell, To his dear brother bade farewell. Round Ráma, Bharat strong and bold In humble reverence paced, When the bright sandals wrought with gold Above his brows were placed. The royal elephant who led The glorious pomp he found, And on the monster's mighty head Those sandals duly bound. Then noble Rama, born to swell The glories of his race, To all in order bade farewell With love and tender grace-- To brothers, counsellers, and peers,-- Still firm, in duty proved, Firm, as the Lord of Snow uprears His mountains unremoved. No queen, for choking sobs and sighs, Could say her last adieu: Then Ráma bowed, with flooded eyes, And to his cot withdrew.