Canto I: How King Dilipa went to Vaçishtha's Hermitage

The Lord Supreme and Pârvatî I praise,
The parents of all worlds, close-joined in one
As word with sense, and pray for gift of speech
With mighty meaning fraught. How else could I,
Weak-witted, dare to hymn the Kingly race
Descended from the Sun,—daring not less
Than one who ventures on a raft to cross
Some pathless sea? For, dullard though I am,
I seek a poet's fame, and risk men's jeers,
A dwarf who stretches tiny arms to grasp
Fruit hung well-nigh beyond a giant's reach.
Yet Bards of old have entered, haply I
May follow where a diamond shows the way,
A thread may go,—yea, pass through hardest gem.
So Raghu's line I sing,—pure from their birth,
Who till they won success worked on, and ruled
Earth to the Sea: their car-track reached to Heav'n.
The altar-fire they tended, suppliants all
Most fully satisfied, ill-deeds with stripes
They punished,—nor were slothful in their rule.
Wealth they amassed to scatter; sparing words,
Ne'er spake they falsely; fame in war they sought,
Not gain,—and wedded love for noble seed.
Their children studied, gravely youth pursued
Its decent pleasures, and in ripe old age
Ascetic lived they,—till through pious thought
At length they passed to win the Bliss Supreme.
Me, poor of words and foolish, has their fame
That sounded through the worlds late moved to write:—
May wise men hear! for in their judgment lies
Or fame or shame, as fire parts gold from dross.

First King was Manu, whom the Sun begot,
Wise, reverend, as the Holiest Word begins
The sacred Hymns. In that unspotted line
Dilipa purer sprang,—'mong Kings a Moon,
As in the Milky Ocean Soma rose.
Broad-chested, tall as Çâl-tree, as a bull
Wide-shouldered, long of arm, the Warrior-race
He seemed embodied, fit for famous deeds.
All-glorious, all-surpassing, he bestrode—
Like Meru's self—the Earth. His vigorous mind
Matched with his beauty, while his Holy Lore
Was equal with them: valour and success
Were twinned and still his Kingly virtues made
Him to his foes a terror, but his folk
Loved him and honoured,—as the Sea yields pearls
Yet nurtures monstrous births. He held the path
That Manu traced, no hair's-breadth strayed his folk
From that pure model. Save to guard the realm,
No tax was taken: so the Sun derives
From earth that moisture which a thousandfold
He soon gives back in rain. His armèd host
Was escort only for the King, who used
Two arms alone in war, his insight keen
In Holy Lore, and bow well-strung. Mankind
Knew his deep purpose when it came to fruit,
Not sooner: fathomless his mind and ways:—
So here we reap the fruit of former lives!
Fearless himself he guarded, duty's path
He strictly followed, wealth he stored, nor grudged
To spend that wealth, and unenthralled enjoyed
His royal pleasures: wise, he spared his words,—
Mighty yet patient, generous secretly,
Opposèd virtues seemed in him twin-born.
By sense unshackled, straining Brahma-wards,
By duty curbed he pleasure,—that his age
Brought no decay. For nurture, maintenance,
And for protection looked his folk to him;
Their parents gave life only. So the King
Repressed the sinful, held the world upright,
Loved virtue, wedded for the Fathers' sake,
Kept righteous ways. As Indra doth for corn,
He drew from Earth her wealth for Sacrifice,—
And both alternate mildly ruled the Worlds.
His glory other Kings despaired to reach,
For theft, ungrasping, lived in name alone.
A worthy foe he honoured, as one sick
Loves healing bitters; friends unworthy proved
Like hand snake-bitten did the King cast off.
Him the Creator formed of choicest seed,
To rear for men rich crop of good; alone
He reigned o'er Earth, sea-moated, girdled round
By Ocean-ramparts, like a single town.

Sudakshinâ his Queen, whose lucky name
Proclaimed her virtues, shared his pious home,
As Dakshâ pure; in whom her royal spouse
Delighted chiefly, loving her and Earth
Before all other. Yet the noble pair
Were still unblessed with offspring, and the King
Longed, and was weary, and well-nigh lost hope.

So, bent on Sacrifice to win a son,
The Kingdom's weight now casting off, the King,
Pure, with his consort, after prayer and fast,
Sought sage Vaçishtha, lord of Saintly Lore,
As in the rains one cloud Airâvata
And lightning mount, deep-rumbling, so that pair
One chariot mounted, whom a modest train
Attended,—"lest the Hermits be disturbed,"—
Their glory like a host encircling them.
Scented with Çâl-tree gums a pleasant breeze,
That shook the forest, bearing fragrant dust
Of flowers, followed: and a deep, sweet cry
Was raised by peacocks, as the car swept past.
Amazed the deer looked up, and left the path
As on the chariot rolled; their love-filled eyes
Were on them bent,—that pair so like themselves.
Anon they watched the cranes, that overhead
Flew tuneful, arching o'er the gate of Heav'n,
Unpillar'd, while the favouring breeze foretold
Success, and kept unsoiled both robes and hair.
Pale lilies' perfume, fragrant as their breath,
They savoured, from the tanks which rippling waves
Cooled ever. Priests, from wayside villages
Themselves had founded, blessed the Royal pair,
Rich from their bounty, where the altars rose.
Butter of kine received they, herdsmen grey
With kindly greeting questioned, asking them
The names of shady trees that lined the roads.
Untold their glory, pure their hearts and robes,
As through the sky speed Chitrâ and the Moon
They sped delighted, while the smiling King
This pointed out and that,—nor knew the way
Was ending, ere they reached the Sage's grove.
He checked the horses, handed forth his Queen,
And nobly courteous led her to their Host.

Now from the neighbouring woods, with grass and fruit
And store of fuel, Saintly bands came home,—
Met by the Sacred Fire, unseen; the deer
Thronged round the huts, and ate the allotted rice;
Sweet maidens filled the trenches, where the birds
Unfearing drank; then couched the timid roes
Where rice was heaped at eve, and chewed the cud.
Wind-shaken now the rising altar-smoke,
With butter fed, made pure the attentive guests
Around the Hermitage. That noble pair,
Alighting meekly, sought the Ascetic's home.
Then hailed the Saintly tribe their pious Lord
With worthy honour, grave in self-control,
Receiving him. When evening rites were o'er,
He saw the Sage supreme: close at his side
Arundhatî was seated: and the Saint
Shone like the Sacred Fire, like Svâhâ she.
The Royal pair saluting clasped their feet,
And lovingly with blessings were received.
Then, after rest and food, the glorious Saint
Asked of the Ascetic King how fared his realm,
And how himself. The patient Conqueror
Returned grave answer, speaking all his mind
Before the Saint, high Lord of Sacred Spells:—
"All ways my Kingdom prospers, holy Sage!
Whom thou protectest neither Gods nor men
Can harm thy Holy spells defeat far off
The foe malignant, while my feebler shafts
Smite those I see, superfluous; and the rain
Abundant cheers the drought-consumed corn,—
Bred by thy Sacred rites; my subjects live
To man's full age, nor fear nor pain disturbs
Their happy lives:—all this we owe to thee.
Deep-rooted, flawless, is my prosp'rous state,
For thou art ever watching, Brahmâ's child!
"Yet, O my Father, I myself, and this
My Queen, thy daughter, bowed with sorrow, long,
And vainly long, for offspring; and the Earth,
Sea-girdled, rich in gems, delights me not.
The Fathers of my race, whom funeral cakes
Delight, foresee a failing of the rite,
And mourn my fate, the while with tears they foul
Drink-offerings poured by me, their sonless son.
Thus pure by sacrifice, my eyes are dim
For longing, childless,—as the mountain-peak
Half sunlit, half in shade, my glory dimmed!
"By gifts, and self-control, and holy life,
May Heav'n be won, but sons of noble line
Are blessings here and yonder, O my Guide!
Does not my childless state distress thy heart,
As 'twere a tree thou plantedst fruitless, bare?
Three debts men owe:—this last alone, unpaid,
Torments me, as a shackle binds and pains
The lordly elephant: Oh, help me then,
Father, Protector, Stay of Manu's line!
And teach me how at length to pay this debt!"

One moment only sank the Priest in thought,
Like lake that slumbers, having heard the King.
To pious thought the hindrance stood revealed,
And thus the mighty Saint made grave reply:—
"Of yore returning home from Indra's courts,
By Pârijâta passing, where the Cow
Surabhi rested in the grateful shade,
To her by thee due reverence was not paid,
As fearing to neglect thy loving Queen.
Then was the curse of childlessness pronounced,
Till by submission thou shouldst purge thy sin!
But Gangâ roared, where heavenly monsters plunged,
And so her curse was all unheard by thee.
Hence is thy sin thy scourge; as Sages teach,
Scorn of the worthy works the scorner woe.
Now in Pâtâla, where the gates are barred
By mighty snakes, she helps a royal rite
For bless'd Prachetas. Therefore, O my King,
With due observance tend her holy Calf,
Pure-living, with thy Queen, that so, well-pleased,
She may bestow the priceless boon ye seek!"
Even as he spake, came Nandinî, the Cow
That gave the oblation, faultless, from the wood,
In tender, tawny lustre, like a leaf
All fresh, with arching eyebrow of white hair,
Like crescent on night's brows:—the streaming milk
Flowed now in holy flood to feed her calf.
Then said the Saint, who knew Fate's course, and knew
The King should prosper:—"See, this fruitful Cow
Comes here unprompted: so shall thy success
Surprise thee; hear my loving counsel then!
Attend her ever as she roams the woods,—
As Study follows Knowledge: while she walks,
Walk thou; she standing, stand; she couching, sit;
She drinking, drink:—at dawn of day, thy Spouse,
Fasting, with close observance must attend
Her to the forest's edge, and thence at eve
Receive her coming home. So shall her grace
By constancy be won, and thou shalt stand,
Proud Father, Sire of Princely sons, and chief
Of Royal fathers!"
Then the grateful King
Bowed docile, with his Queen, and both retired.
Night fell and Brahmâ's son, the eloquent
And true, dismissed to sleep the pious King,
For whom success was dawning; well he could
Bestow the boon, but knew that grace divine
Is hard to win, nor won save after toil.
He gave him but a rustic hut, and there
The Queen reposed, where fragrant grass was spread,—
While saintly students passed all night in prayer.