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Book Iii. Canto L. Jat'ayus

Canto L.: Jatyus.


The vulture from his slumber woke

And heard the words which St spoke.

He raised his eye and looked on her,

Looked on her giant ravisher.

That noblest bird with pointed beak,

Majestic as a mountain peak,

High on the tree addressed the king

Of giants, wisely counselling:

'O Ten-necked lord, I firmly hold

To faith and laws ordained of old,

And thou, my brother, shouldst refrain

From guilty deeds that shame and stain.

The vulture king supreme in air,

Jatayus is the name I bear.

Thy captive, known by St's name,

Is the dear consort and the dame

Of Rma Das'aratha's heir,

Who makes the good of all his care.

Lord of the world in might he vies

With the great Gods of seas and skies.

The law he boasts to keep allows

No king to touch another's spouse,

And, more than all, a prince's dame

High honour and respect may claim.

Back to the earth thy way incline,

Nor think of one who is not thine.

Heroic souls should hold it shame

To stoop to deeds which others blame,

And all respect by them is shown

To dames of others as their own.

Not every case of bliss and gain

The Scripture's holy texts explain,

And subjects, when that light is dim,

Look to their prince and follow him.

The king is bliss and profit, he

Is store of treasures fair to see,

And all the people's fortunes spring,

Their joy and misery, from the king.

If, lord of giant race, thy mind

Be fickle, false, to sin inclined,

How wilt thou kingly place retain?

High thrones in heaven no sinners gain.

The soul which gentle passions sway

Ne'er throws its nobler part away,

Nor ill the mansion of the base

Long be the good man's dwelling-place.

Prince Rma, chief of high renown,

Has wronged thee not in field or town.

Ne'er has he sinned against thee: how

Canst thou resolve to harm him now?

If moved by S'rpankh's prayer

The giant Khara sought him there,

And fighting fell with baffled aim,

His and not Rma's is the blame.

Say, mighty lord of giants, say

What fault on Rma canst thou lay?

What has the world's great master done

That thou should steal his precious one?

Quick, quick the Maithil dame release;

Let Rma's consort go in peace,

Lest scorched by his terrific eye

Beneath his wrath thou fall and die

Like Vritra when Lord Indra threw

The lightning flame that smote and slew.

Ah fool, with blinded eyes to take

Home to thy heart a venomed snake!

Ah foolish eyes, too blind to see

That Death's dire coils entangle thee!

The prudent man his strength will spare,

Nor lift a load too great to bear.

Content is he with wholsome food

Which gives him life and strength renewed

But who would dare the guilty deed

That brings no fame or glorious meed,

Where merit there is none to win

And vengeance soon o'ertakes the sin?

My course of life, Pulastya's son,

For sixty thousand years has run.

Lord of my kind I still maintain

Mine old hereditary reign.

I, worn by years, am older far

Than thou, young lord of bow and car,

In coat of glittering mail encased

And armed with arrows at thy waist,

But not unchallenged shalt thou go,

Or steal the dame without a blow.

Thou canst not, King, before mine eyes

Hear off unchecked thy lovely prize,

Safe as the truth of Scripture bent

By no close logic's argument.

Stay if thy courage let thee, stay

And meet me in the battle fray,

And thou shalt stain the earth with gore

Falling as Khara fell before.

Soon Rma, clothed in bark shall smite.

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Thee, his proud foe, in deadly fight,--

Rma, from whom have oft times fled

The Daitya hosts discomfited.

No power have I to kill or slay:

The princely youths are far away,

But soon shalt thou with fearful eye

Struck down beneath their arrows lie,

But while I yet have life and sense,

Thou shalt not, tyrant, carry hence

Fair St, Ram's honoured queen,

With lotus eyes and lovely mien.

Whate'er the pain, whate'er the cost,

Though in the struggle life be lost,

The will of Raghu's noblest son

And Das'aratha must be done.

Stay for a while, O Rvan, stay,

One hour thy flying car delay,

And from that glorious chariot thou

Shalt fall like fruit from shaken bough,

For I to thee, while yet I live,

The welcome of a foe will give.'
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