Listening to her speech so noble, —
Speech with force and sweetness graced,
Bhîma thus with words of wisdom
Virtuous Yudhishthir addressed.
“Pleading with her eyes so gentle,
Drupad's noble daughter speaks
Words unmatched by god of wisdom, —
And my soul in wonder wakes!
Easy steps can lead to knowledge,
As the Ghat leads to the stream;
Few are those in graceful accents
Who those easy steps can frame!
Like some potent drug her utterance
Force and mighty vigour blends;
Though displeasing to the weakly,
Still it serveth mighty ends!
May her words of noble import
Please thee, great and virtuous lord!
Wise men cull each word of wisdom,
Do not reck who speaks that word.
Trained in all the fourfold science
Is thy lofty mind, great sire!
Wherefore then it sinks in error
Like a tusker in the mire?
“Fallen to this state deplored,
Mighty sovereign! can it be?
And thy power, by gods admired,
Can it, monarch! sink with thee?
We may brook a foeman's prowess
While his ruin we devise;
But a foeman's fall is painful
If it leads to future rise!
Striving still their foes to conquer,
And to seize the victor's prize,
Men of deeds and mighty valour
Fate's reverses still despise!
Who in danger and misfortune
From great deeds of daring turn;
Fortune shuns such nerveless monarchs,
Moved by hatred, moved by scorn!
Who in danger and misfortune
With their daring onward press.
Fortune helps them in the struggle,
Men their mighty valour bless!
Righteous laws and rules of duty,
They can lead to wealth and state;
But they wait on earnest effort,
As we still depend on fate.
Men of deeds and men of honour,
Bent on lofty aims with pride,
Still rely on man-like effort,
Death and danger torn aside!
Men of feeble hearts surrender
To the ills which fortune brings;
Lost their glory, lost their future!
Lost their pride and state of kings!
“Then spurn this apathy and weakness,
To our fame a fatal bar;
On our effort, not vain sorrow,
Ever waits fair fortune's star!
Waitest thou for term of treaty?
Will the wicked wily foe,
Feasting long on royal splendour,
Peacefully their state forego?
Waitest thou to get from foemen
As a gift thy kingdom then?
Woe unto our might and prowess,
Shame on us, O king of men!
Proud, the monarch of the forest
Feeds on tuskers by him slayed!
Mighty chiefs who quell this wade earth
Seek not gifts and foemen's aid!
They surrender life that fleeteth
For undying glory great;
Fortune, fickle as the lightning,
Will unchanging on them wait!
Men will spurn a heap of ashes,
Not the bright and flaming fire!
Hence the proud their life surrender,
Not their glory, not their ire!
Wherefore roars the forest-monarch,
Till his roar the clouds repeat?
His proud soul will brook no rival,
Mighty hearts know no defeat!
Set thy heart on glory, brother!
Spurn this slothful life of shame,
Sure, from our inglorious weakness
Springs our foeman's mighty fame!
Let thy brothers, strong as tuskers,
In the dubious battle throng,
Who will face their mighty valour.
Who will face their prowess strong?
And the fire the foes have lighted, —
Making drear thy righteous life, —
Let the tears of foemen's widows
Quench that great, that vengeful grief!”
Bhîma , like a noble tusker.
Spoke in wrath and mighty ire;
But the righteous Yudhishthira
Strove to quench the flaming fire.
“Wise thy reasons, noble brother,
Blameless, mighty as thy might!
In thy words thy mind reflected
Shines as on a mirror bright!
Strong thy sense, unveiled by jargon.
Import deep yet manifest!
And thy purpose put forth nobly.
And by native vigour graced!
Reasons urged with force inviolate,
Depth of lore unsoiled by art!
Who can speak so well and nobly
But a chief of noble heart?
But insatiate yet my bosom
Seeks for reason's holy light;
And thy wealth of precepts, brother,
Fails to teach me what is right!
“Thoughtless action leads to evil,
And our dangers we create;
Fortune ever waits on wisdom,
On the wise her favours wait!
Sprinkle Wisdom's drops that nourish
On our Duty's fruitful seed,
And as autumn brings its harvests,
Duty will to glory lead!
Sacred lore bedecks a mortal,
Righteous peace befits our lore;
Prowess dwells in righteous conduct,
Leads to glory evermore!
On the wise man's path of duty,
When doubt's gloomy shadows lower.
Sacred lore then sheds a radiance
Like a lamp of wondrous power!
Dost thou cherish lofty purpose?
Righteously let it be done!
Dangers then will bring no sorrow,
Failure will be glory won!
Dost thou sigh for mighty conquests?
Angry passions lay aside!
Blamelessly thy ends pursue,
And by blameless means abide!
Dost thou seek to rise in glory?
Quell by wisdom passion's gloom;
As the sun quells impure darkness
Ere he rises in his bloom!
Till thou quellest impure passions,
Vain thy prowess, vain thy might,
Where is bright moon's silver glory
In the dark and moonless night?
Act with pride and strength when needed,
Or thy gentleness display;
Lord of passions, — rule the wide earth,
Like the glorious orb of day!
But if thou be'st passions' minion,
Fame nor glory wilt thou find, —
Fortune, fleeting as the white clouds.
Favours not the inconstant mind.
“Wherefore, brother, doth thy great heart
This untimely wrath display?
Deep as the ocean is the bosom,
Strong and firm be reason's sway!
Men who, versed in noble learning,
Fail their passions to repress, —
They, my brother, to Dame Fortune,
Give a name for fickleness!
Times nor means are ready, brother,
Let not thy untimely wrath
Still inflame thee, like the vulgar.
Nor mislead from duty's path!
Patience brightens up our future,
Crowns our efforts with success,
Moves obstruction from our path.
Leads us unto happiness!
“The mighty chiefs of Yadu's race,
Who yield the foremost place to none.
Will not in their love forsake us,
Will not bow to Suyodhan.
Other friends and loving kinsmen
Follow as the Yadus lead;
Not for love they serve Suyodhan,
But to serve their present need.
If against our plighted treaty
Now we fall upon the foe,
All the chiefs will round him gather,
Like the flowers at morning's glow.
Grant them time, and all the chieftains
Will the proud Suyodhan leave,
Chiefs will never brook those insults,
Which his subjects often grieve,
For the pride of haughty monarchs,
Scarcely trained in virtue's path,
Ill concealed by sense of duty.
Oft breaks out in native wrath!
And the king with pride inflated
Ever stoops to sin and folly;
Shuns the righteous path of wisdom
As we shun the path unholy.
“A people's discontent will shake
A mighty monarch's power and throne,
Till like a tree by tempest moved,
With ease his rule is overthrown.
For people's discontent, though small,
Doth wreck a mighty monarch's rule.
As far-extending woods are burnt
By sparks which from a dead branch spring.
Therefore, brother, we endure
A haughty foeman's sudden rise;
His haughtiness will sap his prowess.
And his fall is like his rise!
By pride estranged, he soon is left
By mighty chiefs and men of rank;
Then comes the foe and overwhelms him
As the waves the loosened bank!”
Thus spake the king unto his brother, —
Wise and peaceful counsel lent;
When lo! approached, — like peace incarnate, —
Holy Vyasa, — mighty saint!
His gentle look imparting love
To every being animate;
His gentle visage softly beaming
With a sin-destroying might!
Destroyer of all mortal sins.
The source of every holy rite.
The saint appeared, serene and calm.
Like virtue in its native might!
Attired in wild and ruddy barks,
The king respectful stood, and shone,
As on Sumeru's lofty peaks
Doth shine the ruddy rising sun!
And when was done obeisance meet,
The king resumed his wonted place,
And shone as shines our sacred learning,
Graced by righteous holy peace!
His beauteous lips bedecked with beaming smile,
The monarch sat before the saint awhile,
And shone in splendour, like the full moon bright.
With Brihaspati in conjunction sweet!
Bhāravi (6th century) India
Translated by Romesh Chunder Dutt
From "The Hunter and the Hero"
Source: Lays of ancient India. Selections from Indian poetry rendered into English verse
by Romesh Chunder Dutt; Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner, 1894
<< (Book I) Draupadî's Remonstrance
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