Canto XVIII: The later Kings of Raghu's Race

King Atithi, triumphant o'er his foes,
On his fair Queen, Princess of Nishadha,
A son begat that matched the Serpent-King,
As Nishadha thence known to all mankind.
Great was his Sire's delight to see the youth
High-souled, and destined to his folk to bring
Rich blessing, as the eye delights to view
A waving cornfield, whence with fostering rains
Rich harvest shall be won. His mighty Sire,
Kumudvatî's great son, who all Earth's joys
Had in their fulness drained, content resigned
The Royal State, and mounted up to Heaven,
Well won by stainless deeds on Earth below.
Then Kuça's grandson ruled, whose eyes were bright
And languished like the lotus, hiding deep
His purposes, unmatched in might, whose arm
Stretched wide, as stretch a city's girdling walls;
And while he ruled the sea-girt Earth, save his
No Royal fans were waved o'er Kingly head.
He died; and Nala came, and ruled mankind.
Fierce as red fire, like lotus shone his face,
Who crushed his foes as elephants crush reeds:
So great his glory that 'twas sung in Heaven!
To him a son was born, fair as the sky,
Renowned as Nabhas, pleasant to his folk
As clouds of Autumn. To that mighty son
North Koçala's fair realm he glad gave o'er,
And—as in age 'tis meet—with savage beasts
He made his home, escaping once for all
From earthly shackles. Nabhas King begat
Great Pundarîka, famous in the worlds,
'Midst Kings most kingly, who received the realm
Devolving from his Sire, who passed to Heaven:—
When Lakshmî, Lady of the lotus-face,
Embraced him, Vishṇu's likeness:—strong his bow,
His shafts unerring:—He gave o'er the realm
To Kshemadhanvan, dear for patient love,
Well-skilled to rule the people, and himself
As Hermit gave his strength to rites austere.
Of Kshemadhanvan sprang a godlike son,
A skilful Lord of war, Devânîka,
Extolled in highest Heaven. Their mutual love
So brightly beamed, the Father loved his son
As Sire ne'er loved before,—which love that son
In full requited. That most virtuous Sire
Gave to his son the yoke of Royal rule,
And by the merit of pure Sacrifice
Passed to the Sacrificer's home on high.
Then Devânîka reigning next begat
Ahînagas, Lord of himself and Lord
Of sweet, persuasive words, by friends and foes
Beloved alike; for tender words of love
Enthral e'en timorous deer. He ruled the Earth,
That strong-armed Hero, when his Sire went home:
Who turned in early youth from vile men's paths,
And shunned all wasteful vice; men's secret thoughts
He surely knew,—and wisely ruled the Worlds,
Scarce less in might than Vishṇu come to earth,
With fourfold Royal powers in equipoise.
He triumphed o'er his foes; then took the road
That leads to Final Bliss, and in his stead
Fair Lakshmî Pâriyâtra, his great son,
Took to her arms,-who held his haughty head
Above the mountains. Çila followed him,
A noble nature, strong and broad of chest,
Who with flint-headed arrows smote his foes,
Yet modest blushed to hear his actions praised.
That King of blameless soul devolved the realm,
While yet a youth, on Kuça, prudent Prince,
And turned to pleasure;—for a King's high place,
Beset with cares, keeps pleasure far away.
Yet him, with beauty dowered nor sated yet
With love, did envious Age,—that takes in love
No more delight,—first seize, and then cut off.
Unnâbha followed Kuça, mighty-framed,
A very Vishṇu, round whom pivoted
The circle of Earth's kings. Came after him
His son, high Vajranâbha, Indra's peer,
Who thundered in the war,—and wedded Earth,
With diamond mines resplendent. Heaven he won
By mighty deeds, and Earth sea-girdled clave
To Çankhana his son, who all his foes
Uprooted, offering gems from all her mines.
When he was gone, there mounted Raghu's throne
A King renowned, far-famed as is the Sun,
Lord of bay-steeds,—fair as the Açvins,—known
As Dhushitâçva, sending far his steeds
To Ocean's margin. Çiva's grace he won:
And of his loins sprang Viçvasaha, loved
By all men, son indeed, yet strong to shield
The whole broad Earth;—who, holding fast the right,
Begat Hiranyanâbha bearing part
Of Vishṇu's essence, scorching thus his foes
More fiercely as a forest-fire gains strength
When winds attend it. Dhushitâçva then,
The debt he owed his Ancestors discharged,
And longing for Eternal pleasures, crowned
His son, long-armed and mighty, and himself—
In virtue perfect—donned the dress of bark.
His heir, pride of the Sun-race, Priestly King
Of Northern Koçala, begat a son,
Kauçalya named, a second Moon for grace,
Delighting all men's eyes:—who reigned, when passed
His Sire to Glory. He, whose fame had spread
To Brahmâ's council, crowned as King his son,
Brahmishṭha, yearning for the Bliss Supreme
Of union with the Highest. In his son,
Crown of his race, who reigned in perfect peace,
His subjects long rejoiced,—nay, wept for joy.
Fair sons made glad his heart,—but Putra chief,
In form like Vishṇu, served by Garuḍa,
By duteous service of his Sire made great,
Whose eyes were like the lotus, made him head
Of happy fathers. To maintain the line
He left him firmly stablished, then forsook
All earthly objects, bathed in Gangâ's streams,
And passed to Heaven. To Putra his fair Queen
Bore Paushya, at the full of Pusha's moon,
More splendid than the topaz: under him,
As 'neath new stars auspicious, men rejoiced
In boundless happiness. When age crept on,
The noble King gave to his son the realm,
Himself he gave to saintly Jaimini,
And, shrinking from re-birth, by works austere
Attained absorption in the Soul Supreme.
Then Dhruvasandhi, steadfast as the Pole,
Ruled all wide Earth, a loyal, upright Prince,
With whom consenting all his foes made peace.
Him lion-like, wide-eyed as is a fawn,
While yet his son Sudarçana,—whose grace
Charmed all men's sight as doth the waxing Moon,—
Was but a child, too eager in the chase,
A mighty lion slew. When so to Heaven
That King had passed, the council with one voice
With solemn rites enthroned his only son
Lord of Ayodhyâ, to uphold the race;—
For all the people mourned their Kingless state.

Thus Raghu's line, whose chief was now a child,
Showed like the night while still the Moon is young,
Or like a forest where one Lion-cub
Alone doth range, or as a silent lake
Before its lilies bloom. When on the Throne
He sat, the people deemed his riper age
Would prove him equal to his mighty Sire:
Full oft they'd seen a cloud that seemed no more
Than handbreadth wide, by East wind driven, veil
The whole broad sky. So stately was his mien,
The people gazed on him with not less awe
Than on his Father, when—scarce six years old—
In Royal robes he passed along the ways
On noble elephant, yet childlike clung
Fast to the driver. Though as yet too small
To fill his Father's throne, his glory shone
So wide about him that he seemed to swell—
As clothed in lustrous gold—and filled the seat.
Kings laid their crowns in homage at his foot,
Which, tinged with red and hanging from the Throne
A little way, scarce touched the golden stool.
Well is the sapphire named the "great blue stone,"
Most precious though 'tis small: so, well beseemed
That Royal child the title "Mighty King!"
Such potent words came from his infant lips,
On either side fan-guarded, boyish curls
Still hanging down his cheeks,—their sound went forth
Far to great Ocean's shores, nor died e'en there.
Silk gold-embroidered twined around his brow,
Whereon impressed he bore the Royal Mark,
With which—though still he smiled—he turned to tears
The smiling faces of his foemen's wives.
Soft as Çirisha buds, too heavy gems
Had tired his limbs: yet in him dwelt such force
And dignity, he bore the unmeasured weight
Of all the careful World. Ere yet he learned
His letters all, traced on a writing-board,
By converse with the wise he fully grasped
All lessons of right rule and policy.
Not yet had Lakshmî in his heart won place,
But—longing for his manhood—bashfully
Embraced him only 'neath the umbrella's shade.
Though still unpractised in the archer's craft,
Nor marked as yet with scars from bowstring wound,
Nor yet he grasped the sword-hilt,—Earth dwelt safe,
Protected by his arm. As time rolled on,
His limbs gained strength and bulk; the Virtues too
That win a people's love, blest heritage,
At first but seedlings, grew to stately trees.
No toil it was to teach him; for he learnt
The threefold Science, root of three-branched Lore,
And seemed in learning merely to recall
What in a former life he well had known,—
And therewithal he won his people's hearts.
In arms at length made perfect, he shone forth
A glorious Archer; swelling out the chest,
Poised lightly on the foot, with crest erect,
He laid his arrow to the string, and drew
The notch right to his ear. Full soon he reached
The flower of youth, sweet season of delight,—
A charm for women's love, the perfect bloom
That crowns Desire's fair tree, from passion's plant
Luxuriant shoot,—or charm of loveliness
Spread over all his limbs, boon nature's gift.
Then did the Kingly State and Earth herself,
At first his only brides, no more suffice
To fill his heart; now paled their charms, compared
With royal maidens' portraits, which those maids
In beauty far excelled,—by envoys brought,
And shown by faithful councillors, who longed
To see pure offspring more confirm the throne.