The Ramayana/Book III/Canto V: S'arabhanga

Then Ráma, having slain in fight Virádha of terrific might, With gentle words his spouse consoled, And clasped her in his loving hold. Then to his brother nobly brave The valiant prince his counsel gave: 'Wild are these woods around us spread; And hard and rough the ground to tread: We, O my brother, ne'er nave viewed So dark and drear a solitude: To S'arabhanga let us haste, Whom wealth of holy works has graced.' Thus Ráma spoke, and took the road To S'arabhanga's pure abode. But near that saint whose lustre vied With Gods, by penance purified, With startled eyes the prince beheld A wondrous sight unparalleled. In splendour like the fire and sun He saw a great and glorious one. Upon a noble car he rode, And many a God behind him glowed: And earth beneath his feet unpressed The monarch of the skies confessed. Ablaze with gems, no dust might dim The bright attire that covered him. Arrayed like him, on every side High saints their master glorified. Near, borne in air, appeared in view His car which tawny coursers drew, Like silver cloud, the moon, or sun Ere yet the day is well begun. Wreathed with gay garlands, o'er his head A pure white canopy was spread, And lovely nymphs stood nigh to hold Fair chouris with their sticks of gold, Which, waving in each gentle hand, The forehead of their monarch fanned. God, saint, and bard, a radiant ring, 5ang glory to their heavenly King: Forth into joyful lauds they burst As Indra with the sage conversed. Then Ráma, when his wondering eyes Beheld the monarch of the skies, To Lakshman quickly called, and showed The car wherein Lord Indra rode: 'See, brother, see that air-borne car, Whose wondrous glory shines afar: Wherefrom so bright a lustre streams That like a falling sun it seems These are the steeds whose fame we know, Of heavenly race through heaven they go: These are the steeds who bear the yoke Of S'akra, Him whom all invoke. Behold these youths, a glorious band, Toward every wind a hundred stand: A sword in each right hand is borne, And rings of gold their arms adorn. What might in every broad deep chest And club-like arm is manifest! Clothed in attire of crimson hue They show like tigers fierce to view. Great chains of gold each warder deck, Gleaming like fire beneath his neck. The age of each fair youth appears Some score and five of human years: The ever-blooming prime which they Who live in heaven retain for aye: Such mien these lordly beings wear, Heroic youths, most bright and fair. Now, brother, in this spot, I pray, With the Videhan lady stay, Till I have certain knowledge who This being is, so bright to view.' He spoke, and turning from the spot Sought S'arabhanga's hermit cot. But when the lord of S'achí saw The son of Raghu near him draw, He hastened of the sage to take His leave, and to his followers spake: 'See, Ráma bends his steps this way, But ere he yet a word can say, Come, fly to our celestial sphere; It is not meet he see me here. Soon victor and triumphant he In fitter time shall look on me. Before him still a great emprise, A task too hard for others, lies.' Then with all marks of honour high The Thunderer bade the saint good-bye, And in his car which coursers drew Away to heaven the conqueror flew. Then Ráma, Lakshman, and the dame, To S'arabhanga nearer came, Who sat beside the holy flame. Before the ancient sage they bent, And clasped his feet most reverent; Then at his invitation found A seat beside him on the ground. Then Ráma prayed the sage would deign Lord Indra's visit to explain; And thus at length the holy man In answer to his prayer began: 'This Lord of boons has sought me here To waft me hence to Brahmá's sphere, Won by my penance long and stern,-- A home the lawless ne'er can earn. But when I knew that thou wast nigh, To Brahmá's world I could not fly Until these longing eyes were blest With seeing thee, mine honoured guest. Since thou, O Prince, hast cheered my sight, Great-hearted lover of the right, To heavenly spheres will I repair And bliss supreme that waits me there. For I have won, dear Prince, my way To those fair worlds which ne'er decay, Celestial seat of Brahmá's reign: Be thine, with me, those worlds to gain.' Then master, of all sacred lore, Spake Ráma to the saint once more: 'I, even I, illustrious sage, Will make those worlds mine heritage: But now, I pray, some home assign Within this holy grove of thine.' Thus Ráma, Indra's peer in might, Addressed the aged anchorite: And he, with wisdom well endued, To Raghu's son his speech renewed: 'Sutíkshna's woodland home is near, A glorious saint of life austere, True to the path of duty; he With highest bliss will prosper thee. Against the stream thy course must be Of this fair brook Mandákiní, Whereon light rafts like blossoms glide; Then to his cottage turn aside. There lies thy path: but ere thou go, Look on me, dear one, till I throw Aside this mould that girds me in, As casts the snake his withered skin.' He spoke, the fire in order laid With holy oil due offerings made, And S'arábhanga, glorious sire, Laid down his body in the fire. Then rose the flame above his head, On skin, blood, flesh, and bones it fed, Till forth, transformed, with radiant hue Of tender youth, he rose anew, Far-shining in his bright attire Came S'arábhanga from the pyre: Above the home of saints, and those Who feed the quenchless flame, he rose: Beyond the seat of Gods he passed, And Brahmá's sphere was gained at last. The noblest of the twice-born race, For holy works supreme in place, The Mighty Father there beheld Girt round by hosts unparalleled; And Brahmá joying at the sight Welcomed the glorious anchorite. * * * * *