Canto XVII: The wise Rule of King Atithi

In happy wedlock joined Kumudvatî
Bore to her Lord a son, great Atithi,
Who soothed their hearts, as sleep most peaceful comes
Just at the dawn. He cheered his Father's soul,
Rich blessing to both parents and their kin,
Unmatched for splendour: so the radiant Sun
With bright beams purifies both North and South.
Him first his Sire, of Sages chief, that Lore
Essential taught which graced through each descent
The line of Raghu; then sought fitting brides
From royal houses. Well he deemed, high King,
Heroic, self-controlled, that in his Son,—
Not less high-born, heroic, self-controlled,—
His single self was nobly multiplied.
For Kuça's virtues, and his high descent,
Great Indra called him friend,—with whom he joined
In war against the Daityas, and was slain
By Durjaya,—whom he too slew in fight.
So died he; and the fair Kumudvatî,
His faithful Spouse, soon followed him in death,
As moonlight fails when fails the waning Moon,
Loved by the lily. Kuça high in Heaven
Held half great Indra's throne, Kumudvati
Was bosom-friend of Çachî, and enjoyed
The fruit of Pârijâta, Tree of Boons.
Now, as their Lord had bidden when he went
To smite the Daityas, his grave Senators
Anointed to the Kingdom his wise son,
The famous Atithi. To crown him King
By skilful hands a Royal residence,
With lofty altar hallowed,—pillars four
Supporting it,—they ordered to be built.
There on a throne of state he took his place,
And nobles of the Kingdom served, and brought
In golden vessels from the holiest streams
Pure waters; deep, entrancing notes the drums
Boomed forth, presaging prosperous, endless reign,
Then, as was taught by Elders of his house,
He sprinkled Dûrva-grass and barley-stalks,
The fig-tree's bark and lotus-buds,—for rites
Of solemn cleansing. Next the Brâhmans came,
The royal House-Priests first, with solemn pomps
And anthems high, to crown that noble King.
The sacring waters plashed upon his head,
Then riverlike flowed down, as Gangâ's streams
Erst flowed through Çiva's locks. At once the King,
Whom heralds loudly praised, showed like a cloud,
Majestic, hailed by thirsting cuckoos' song.
Thus purified with water, which the Priests
With Holy Texts had blessed, the King flashed forth
In brighter glory,—as the lightning-flame
Spreads wide when dashed with water. When the rites
Of Coronation were complete, he gave
Rich gifts to tribal patriarchs, loading them
With largesse far beyond their offered gifts.
Amazed and joyful, blessings they called down,
Which yet his great achievements cast in shade,
So mighty waxed he. Mercy next he showed,
Whose high command loosed every prisoner's chain,
Gave life to those condemned to die, unyoked
The patient oxen, gave the kine relief
From cruel milking:—yea, all cagèd birds
That pined for freedom he released, to fly
Where'er they would. Anon the ivory Throne
He mounted, where in stately hall it stood,
Pure, curtained round, to assume the Royal robes.
His locks were first with fragrant unguents dressed,
Next careful tiremen choicest jewels gave,
Last on his head, where rows of pearls reposed
Twined in the diadem, a ruby rare
(Bathed in its flashing rays) they set. His limbs
With sandalwood they rubbed, as sweet of scent
As purest musk; they stained his velvet skin
With comely Rochana. Enthroned he sat,
In fullest Royal state, with crown on head,
Clad in soft silken robe, where swans were wrought,—
And drew the eyes of all men, worthiest seen
To woo and win the Genius of the realm.
Resplendent was the form that met his gaze,
Reflected from the golden mirror's plane:
On Meru's slopes so shines the Wishing-tree
Beneath the Sun's first beams. He entered then
The audience-hall, which rivalled Indra's own,
'Mid loud acclaim of pursuivants, who bore
The Royal standards. Glorious then he sat
Upon his Father's throne, well-canopied,
Before whose footstool Kings were wont to lay
Their jewelled crowns. New lustre shed the King
Through all the festal palace when he came,
As when the famous jewel Kaustubha
Gleams on great Vishṇu's breast, not unadorned
By rich Çrîvatsa. Thus, his nonage past,
To Royal state advanced, more splendid still
He shone than e'en before as shines the Moon
With brighter lustre when its crescent shape
Has grown to fulness. Cheerful looks he wore,
And spoke to all his servants smiling, so
That in their eyes he seemed Persuasion's self.
In glory matching Indra rode the King,
High on an elephant whose might could vie
E'en with Airâvata's—and made his town
To rival Svarga, while his standards waved
Like Wishing-trees. Now o'er his head alone
The parasol of Royal state was raised,
Which, white, unspotted, purged from all men's hearts
Their poignant sorrow for his Father's death.
In nature smoke comes first ere fire appears,
Mist veils the Sun's rays till he gather strength;
But Atithi, by no such law restrained
To weakness, shone at once with all the might
Of gathered virtues. City-matrons gazed
Where'er he passed, with eyes of loyal love,
As in clear Autumn night's unwinking eyes
Attend the Polar Star in steadfast groups.
Revered in stately shrines, Ayodhyâ's Gods
In chiselled shapes stood round about the King,
And richly blessed him. Ere the altar stones,
Wet with the Anointing waters, dried again,
His burning fame had reached far Ocean's shore.
Keen shafts he wielded, sage Vaçishṭha's spells
Lent aid resistless: what could e'er withstand
Their power united? Daily in his court
Himself sat with his judges, patient heard
The cause of each contestant, straitly sought
Where truth might lurk, maturely weighed the proof,—
Then gave his sentence, cleaving fast to right.
The people who, in his great Father's time,
Had grown as rivers do with vernal showers,
New-ruled by him—as these with Autumn rains—
Reached Fortune's flood-mark. Not a word untrue
E'er passed his lips, no gift was e'er sought back,—
Nor e'er his word recalled,—save only when
He pardoned and restored a humbled foe.
Youth, power, and beauty,—each alone breeds pride;
And all in him were met, yet his great heart
Swelled not with pride unduly. Day by day
Devotion in his subjects stronger grew,
Till, like a tree whose roots are firmly fixed,
In vigorous youth no force could shake his throne.
But foreign foes are distant, nor will give
Perpetual trouble; with unwearied care
'Gainst banded foes within, the passions six,
He waged unceasing war. Fair Fortune too,
Inconstant else, for him unchanging wore
A smiling aspect: so a streak of gold
Cleaves to the touchstone. Harsh and mild by turns,
The Monarch sought his ends; for grace unmixed
Soon warps to weakness, harshness unrestrained
Is in its issue savage cruelty.
Whate'er was done on Earth straightway he knew,
For spies he scattered round him, as the Sun
Unclouded darts his rays on every side.
All duties which by night or day the Law
Prescribes for Kings, unswerving and untired
The King fulfilled. For daily with the pure
He held his council,—yet his purposes
(Debated with closed doors) were ne'er betrayed.
For needful rest he slept, yet ever watched
Through spies spread all abroad 'mongst friends and foes,
Yet each from other hid. When he made war,
Though his own fortresses defied attack,
He ever sought the foe: the king of beasts,
Who tears down elephants, skulks not in caves.
His plan he thought out well, prepared his paths,
Success securing: rice-grains in the blade
Mature in secret. High his fortunes rose,
Yet turned he not aside to crooked ways,
Like Ocean which in highest floodtide shapes
Its course up river-mouths. Strong to repress,
If discontent had ever reared its head,
So wisely ruled he that among his folk
No stern reproof was needed. Only foes
Of equal might that valiant, powerful King
Made war upon: so forest-fires, though urged,
By rushing winds, attack not running streams.
'Mid Justice, Pleasure, Profit,—undismayed
He held the balance even, nor allowed
That any should prevail beyond its due,
Nor crush another. Knowing well that friends
Avail not in misfortune, but when swoln
With too great power resist the hand that raised,
He kept them in the mean. His foemen's strength
Or weakness well he pondered, and his own
For strength or wealth;—if his the better part,
Assailing boldly,—else he abode attack.
Well knowing "power to help from riches comes,"
He stored up treasure; so the cloud, well-stored
With watery wealth, is thanked by Châtakas.
His own designs promoting, still to nought
He brought his foemen's counsels; each weak spot
He fortified, but smote where they were weak.
A warlike King, the army, which his Sire
Had wisely fostered, exercised in arms
And apt to fight, was ever at his call.
The triple Kingly power he firmly held,
Fixed like the jewelled crest a serpent wears;
No foe could win it from him, while he drew
Their power from them, as magnet's hidden force
Attracts the iron. Through his peaceful realm
Merchants unhindered plied their trade in boats
On mighty streams as on calm lakes, through woods
Safe as in royal parks, on mountain roads
Secure as in their homes. Protecting well
Ascetic works from hindrance, wealth from thieves,
He took the royal sixth throughout his realm,
From every man as each with ease could pay.
In valour he was Kârtikeya's peer,—
Well-versed in policy, used force or craft
As either best might serve. The Kingly power
In phases four by just proportion used,
Of all he took the fruit; no favourite
Absorbed the gains. All crafty ways of war,
All treacherous wiles he knew, but never used:
But fought uprightly, so that Victory—
Fair Goddess—who on Hero-souls attends,
Loved and clave to him. Wherefore all his foes
By his great might he quickly smote, as smites
An elephant in pride the rival bulls,
And seldom was provoked to take the field.
Now when the Moon is full it quickly wanes,
And Ocean after floodtide quickly falls,—
Like both the Monarch waxed, but waned not so.
To him, the mighty, generous King, repaired,—
As clouds to Ocean—beggars destitute,
And got such guerdon that themselves grew rich,
And gave to others. Hating words of praise,
His actions all yet won their glorious meed;
No flattering tongue he favoured, yet his fame
Spread through the world. Now on the lily pale
Alone the moonbeams fall, the Sun's hot rays
The lotus only hails: his virtues' light
His foes not less illumined than his friends.
His very aspect scared away the wrong,
By truth's bright essence darkness he dispelled,
And all men held beneath his sovran sway,—
As rules the Sun in strength this nether World.
To crush his foes he put forth all his might,
Yet was his purpose worthy,—since he sought
This only, to complete the great Horse-sacrifice.
Thus in his valour struggling on the road
Prescribed by Holy Writ,—as Indra rose
To Heaven's high throne, so he on Earth became
King o'er all Kings; and, for his excellence,
Fifth Guardian of the World, Sixth Element,
Eighth mountain with the Seven,—he was named.
In reverence Kings received his high commands,
And placed the scrolls above their diadems,
As though to shade them, now their parasols
Were torn away:—so Indra rules the Gods.
Now with such wealth at his Horse-sacrifice
He guerdoned all the sacrificing priests,
That they his name extolled as equalling
Kuvera's own. From Indra plenteous rains
Were showered, and Yama kept back deadly plagues;
The Lord of Ocean and its monsters gave
To merchants prosperous voyage, who crossed in ships
His mighty waters: mindful of the past,
And Raghu's threats, Kuvera still increased
The Monarch's treasure; while the mighty Four
Who guard the Worlds so highly honoured him,
As though themselves were suppliants for his aid.