The Ramayana · 116 of 493

Ayodhyā Kānda (The Book of Ayodhyā): Canto 41 — The Citizens’ Lament

The lion chief with hands upraised Was born from eyes that fondly gazed. But then the ladies’ bower was rent With cries of weeping and lament: “Where goes he now, our lord, the sure Protector of the friendless poor, In whom the wretched and the weak Defence and aid were wont to seek? All words of wrath he turned aside, And ne’er, when cursed, in ire replied. He shared his people’s woe, and stilled The troubled breast which rage had filled. Our chief, on lofty thoughts intent, In glorious fame preëminent: As on his own dear mother, thus He ever looked on each of us. Where goes he now? His sire’s behest, By Queen Kaikeyí’s guile distressed, Has banished to the forest hence Him who was all the world’s defence. Ah, senseless King, to drive away The hope of men, their guard and stay, To banish to the distant wood Ráma the duteous, true, and good!” The royal dames, like cows bereaved Of their young calves, thus sadly grieved. The monarch heard them as they wailed, And by the fire of grief assailed For his dear son, he bowed his head, And all his sense and memory fled.

Then were no fires of worship fed, Thick darkness o’er the sun was spread. The cows their thirsty calves denied, And elephants flung their food aside. Triśanku,(315) Jupiter looked dread, And Mercury and Mars the red, In direful opposition met, The glory of the moon beset. The lunar stars withheld their light, The planets were no longer bright, But meteors with their horrid glare, And dire Viśákhás(316) lit the air. As troubled Ocean heaves and raves When Doom’s wild tempest sweeps the waves, Thus all Ayodhyá reeled and bent When Ráma to the forest went. And chilling grief and dark despair Fell suddenly on all men there. Their wonted pastime all forgot, Nor thought of food, or touched it not. Crowds in the royal street were seen With weeping eye and troubled mien: No more a people gay and glad, Each head and heart was sick and sad. No more the cool wind softly blew, The moon no more was fair to view, No more the sun with genial glow Cherished the world now plunged in woe. Sons, brothers, husbands, wedded wives Forgot the ties that joined their lives; No thought for kith and kin was spared, But all for only Ráma cared. And Ráma’s friends who loved him best, Their minds disordered and distressed. By the great burthen of their woes Turned not to slumber or repose. Like Earth with all her hills bereft Of Indra’s guiding care. Ayodhyá in her sorrow left By him, the high souled heir, Was bowed by fear and sorrow’s force, And shook with many a throe, While warrior, elephant, and horse Sent up the cry of woe.