Beaming with a gentle lustre
Soft as rays of autumn night,
Graced witli auburn locks that clustered
Like a cloud with lightning bright!
Bearing grace in all its fulness
On his more than mortal form,
Filling every living creature
With affection pure and warm!
Speaking by his gentle features
Peaceful thoughts that filled his heart,
By his soft and trustful glances
Seeking confidence t' impart!
Mighty source of all the Vedas,
Source from whom all virtues flow,
Him the King Yudhishthir questioned,
Curious his great end to know.
"Unattained by mighty virtue,
Saint! thy visit is to me
Like a holy life's fruition.
Like the rain from cloudless sky!
Rites performed bear fruit to-day,
Brahmans' blessings bring forth weal,
Mighty Saint! since by thy visit
Honoured in this world I feel!
By its grace it conquers evils,
By its glory spreads our fame,
From thy kindness as from Brahma's,
Untold bliss and blessings come!
Not the moon with gentle radiance
Cheers my sad and weary eye, —
Now my heart forgets its sadness,
Beats with joy, for thou art nigh!
Thy desire I may not question,
Peaceful souls have no desires!
But a wish to hear thy utterance
With a boldness me inspires!"
In graceful words thus spoke the monarch;
Vyâsa, by his kindness led.
Anxious for the monarch's glory,
Thus unto Yudhishthir said:
"He who strives for fame and glory
Bears for all an equal love,
He who strives for peace and virtue
Should with love impartial move.
Yet my partial heart, O monarch,
Is by virtues drawn to thee;
Virtues have a power attractive
Even on holy saints and high.
Are ye not of race imperial.
Worthier far than Suyodhan?
Has the old king lost his reason
1Thus to wrench from you your own?
And will fortune help a monarch
Who on Karna places trust?
Friendship with unrighteous mortals
Is but fame and honour lost!
When your foes left paths of virtue,
You in virtue took your rest ;
And midst changes, still unchanging,
Shewed forgiveness, ever blest!
Vainly did they seek to shame thee,
Man of ever changeless love!
'Tis thv wealth of worth and virtue
In true light their actions prove!
But mark my words! by valour only
You can win in battle's hour;
And in might is strong the foeman, —
Therefore seek increase in power.
"Jamadagni's son,
2 who conquered
Thrice seven times the kings of earth,
Great though he, the chieftain trembles
At great Bhishtna's
3 mightier worth!
Death is powerless, death is conquered
By that chief's resistless power;
Trembles earth when mighty Bhishma
Wields his bow in battle's hour!
Doughty Drona!
4 in the battle,
Speeding arrows in his ire,
Like a world-consuming furnace
With its quivering tongues of fire!
Fiery Kama learnt his lessons
From great Jamadagni's son.
Death himself, in Karna's
5 presence
Owns a terror, strange, unknown!
These are chiefs, believe me, monarch,
Whom in battle thou shalt face!
Hence let Arjun with due penance
Seek celestial arms and grace.
Let him seek that gift of prowess
Gods themselves by penance crave, —
This, O monarch, is my mission, —
Win the gift that speeds the brave."
Then the great and mighty Arjun
Stept forth reverent and slow,
Bowing to Yudhishthir's mandate,
Like a student meek and low.
And the gift, the fiery
mantra,
Issuing from the holy saint,
As the sunlight falls on lotus,
So unto great Arjun went!
And the
mantra's sacred radiance.
Which the hero proudly wore,
Quickly oped his eye of reason,
Taught him secrets of deep lore!
And his form betokened glory,
And his heart was fixed and strong,
Urging penance pure and holy,
Vyâsa spoke to Arjun young.
"Strengthened by this
mantra, Arjun!
Yielding thy own place to none,
Girt in arms perform thy penance.
Unto fasts, ablutions prone.
Let this Yaksha lead thee, youth!
To the lofty golden hill,—
There you do your sacred penance,
Please great Indra, do his will."
Thus speaking to the mighty chief
The saint evanished from his view,
Obedient to his sacred word
Appeared the Yaksha, faithful, true.
The Yaksha bowed and felt a love
For Arjun, gentle in his speech;
The pure are quick in confidence.
And fi'iendship is not far to reach.
As darkness fills Sumeru's bowers
When slow the god of day departs,
The parting from the mighty Arjun
Filled with grief his brothers' hearts.
Dispelled awhile by sense of duty, —
Albeit so strong was brothers' love, —
The sorrow of the parting brothers,
Though keen, did not oppressive prove.
And hope and trust in Arjun's might.
And bitter hatred of the foe,
And confidence in Arjun's power
Dispelled the brothers' common woe.
As darkness leaves the hours of day
And seeks the stillness of the night.
Thus sorrow left the mighty chiefs,
And fell on Krishnâ
6 in its might.
As flakes of snow the lotus fills
Spontaneous tear-drops filled her eye,
Nor could she weep, for tear-drops shed
Might be an inauspicious sign!
One look she gave, 'twas dear to soul, —
And Arjun caught the parting grace, —
His treasure and memento dear
Through pathless woods and weary days.
By grief her tender heart was wrung.
Like summer rills by tuskers soiled;
Her voice was choked with tears restrained,
She spoke in accents sweet and wild.
"Restorer of our ancient fame,
Now trailed in mire by foemen's art,
Until thy mighty penance ends,
Our absence should not pain thy heart.
In fame's pursuit, in pleasure's quest,
In deeds which glorious records fill,
Unfailing Fortune leans to him
Who labours with a mighty will!
To rule the world was Kshatriya made,
His wealth is conquering power in strife!
Disgrace, alas! has quenched that power, —
To true-born warriors dear as life!
Disgrace, which kings in distant lands
Have doubting heard, heads bent in shame!
Which stains our former stainless worth,
Our world embracing mighty fame!
Disgrace, which wipes our former deeds.
And hides in gloom our glory's blaze!
Which wipes our future prospects fair.
As evening wipes the sun's last rays!
Disgrace by hated foemen dealt, —
This bitter thought is cruel, smart!
Disgrace which in thy absence, chief!
Will freshen in this sorrowing heart.
"How changed thou art! like wounded tuskers.
Prowess lost, and glory faded.
Deprived of power by foemen's wile,
Like day by clouds of autumn shaded!
Thy arms unused have lost their glow.
Nor deck thee as they did of yore;
Thy form how changed, like summer lakes,
Now faded by the loss of power!
Duhsâsan dragged me by this hair!
Untied they are, their lord is fate!
On thy great fame they cast reproach,
Oh! art thou Dhananjay
7 the great?
A Kshatriya he who can protect —
A bow is useful in the war —
But vain their import if they fail
In virtues by their name they bear.
Thy warlike virtues, all but dead,
Ingloriously thy rise await,
And seem to share our common grief.
And imitate our common plight!
"But rash thy foemen thee insult.
As tuskers touch a lion's mane!
Duty for thy worth elects thee,
As the day elects the sun!
A hero's deeds all deeds excel.
And fill the glorious rolls of fame;
A hero's name holds foremost place
When men their mighty chieftains name!
Then be a hero! do thy deeds, —
And if perchance within thy heart,
A thought of us awakes a pang,
May Indra every grief avert!
In sacred spots, from dangers free.
May all thy time in safety pass;
Beware the wicked, impure foes
Who turn against the pure, alas!
Thy duty calls thee! Arjun, go!
Perform the saint's behest in peace;
And all our dearest hopes fulfilling,
Come thou to our dear embrace!"
Thus spoke Drupad's noble daughter,
Deepening his resentment high;
And he crimsoned in bis anger
Like the sun in northern sky!
Accoutred in his mighty weapons,
Fancying all his foes before,
As spells assume a power terrific.
He a form terrific wore!
The bow before which foemen trembled,
Famed by many a mighty deed.
The quivers never seen by foemen,
And the long and shining blade,
And his gem-bespangled armour.
Like the star-decked sky, — he wore!
Scars by Indra's darts inflicted,
Hid by glory evermore!
Guided by the faithful Yaksba
He unto the mountains hied,
Filled the hearts of saints with sorrow,
As with tears the chief they eyed.
A heavenlv music filled the realms on high.
And fragrant blossoms gently fell from sky.
And the sea with breakers ever restless
Clasped the earth to whisper words of sweetness!
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
- Durycidhana's father, who banished the Pandava brothers after they had staked and lost their kingdom.
- Parasurama, a Brahman and son of Jamadagni, is said to have conquered and slaughtered the Kshatriyas twenty-one times. The struggle for supremacy which went on for centuries between the priests and kings of India (as in Europe in the Middle Ages) is darkly indicated in Parasnrama's story.
- Bhishnia, a great-uncle of Yudhishthira and Duryodhan alike, was the mightiest of the mighty warriors among the Kurus. He is said to have been safe from death except by his own will.
- Drona, a Brahman, and preceptor of the Pandavas and of Durodhana in arms. He was famed for forming phalanxes in battle.
- Karna, king of Anga or East Behar, was a fiery and wild chief, and was favoured by Duryodhana, because he was the only warrior among the princes of the age who was a match for Arjima in archery and skill of arms.
- Krishnâ (with a long â) is a name of Dranpadi. Krishna (with a short a) is the name of the Yadava chief, the ally of the Pandavas.
- A name of Arjuna. Duhsâsana, a brother of Duryodhana, dragged Draupadi by the hair after Yudhishthira had lost his kingdom. Drauadl declined to braid her hair after that till that insult was revenged.
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