Canto V: Raghu's splendid Generosity: Aja is born, and, when grown to Manhood, starts to woo Indumatî

Now when the Imperial Sacrifice the King,
All-Conqueror, had performed, and all his wealth
Was lavished, came to seek his Teacher's fee
Kautsa, whom mighty Varatantu taught
Till he in Lore was perfect. Him the King
Met courteous, mighty, splendid,—gave his gift
In earthen vessel, for his gold was done.
Low bowed the King: then, rich in fame, and taught
To know the right, observant of his due,
He seated him, and thus addressed:—"How fares
Thy Master, keen of insight, chief of Saints
Who frame the Veda's hymns? from whom thy Lore
Thou tookst as from the Sun this world gets life.
Oh, say not that the Sage's triple toils
Austere, of limb, speech, thought—which Indra fears—
Are now disturbed! Have storms laid waste the trees
That shade and guard your dwellings, which with care
Ye've watered, fostered, nurtured from the seed!
And are the deer unharmed, which Munis tend,
That couch on Kuça kept for sacred use,
And bear their young while clasped in Saintly arms?
And are those streams unsullied, which erst pure
Libations yielded both for Gods and Shades,
Where stood the holy pillars? Is the rice,
Self-springing food for you and for your guests,
Spoiled by the rabble, whom the husks should feed?
Has the great Saint dismissed thee perfect, Saint,
That now thou shouldst take wife, and guide thy home,
That second life to pass, whence draws the world
Most earthly profit? All my care, thou know'st,
Is still to serve: oh, tell me how I may
Best serve thee, or thy Teacher,—for that grace
I look for from thee!"
Now, dismayed, the Saint
Looked on the earthen dish, and knew the cause;
Then, hopeless to obtain it, spake his need:—
"Know, famous King, that all is well with us!
Thou rulest, men must prosper: while the Sun
Is high in heav'n, no darkness can prevail
To dim men's sight. Still has thy glorious race
Revered the worthy; yet my need is such
As scarce thou canst supply, though thou surpass
In that thy Sires: untimely I have come,
Unhelped must go! For, clad in glorious fame,
Else thou art bare, thy riches well bestowed,—
Stripped as the wild-rice stalk, when savage hands
Have spoiled its fruit. Thou, Lord of all, show'st well,
Thus seeming poor, as still the cold-rayed Moon,
Which Gods drink up wins blessing as it wanes.
No further errand mine: my Teacher's fee
Elsewhere I'll seek,—so fare thee well, O King!
The rain-bird craves not rain from emptied clouds,
Nor missing grieves!"
The King called back the Saint,
As he was turning, asked him:—"Say how great,
Or what the fee he asks." The perfect Sage
Thus answered him, the lowly Lord of all,
For whom was made the mighty Sacrifice:—
"I asked the Sage, when I had won all lore,
What meed was his. He first pronounced his fee
My long-proved, loyal love: but, further urged,
In hasty wrath, nor thinking of my state,
How poor I am,—'The sciences,' he said,
'I taught thee scarce can fourteen millions pay:
That bring me!' Coming here, full plain I see
The name of King is left thee, not the wealth:
That earthen bowl proclaims it. How dare I
Ask from thee then the boundless meed he claims?"
So spake the Sage:—but quick the King supreme,
As Vishṇu lovely, clean of heart and pure
From base affections, pleaded:—"Strange disfame
It were to Raghu, if a perfect Sage
Who sought his Teacher's fee, should turn away,
To seek his guerdon from another Lord!
Be thou my guest, O Sage! like Holy Fire
Keep pure my hearth for me two days or three,
That I may help thee." Gratefully the Saint
Consented, while the King, whose plighted word
None e'er knew fail, set forth to wrest the boon
From famed Kuvera, since Earth teemed with wealth.
So great his glory, which Vaçishṭha's spells
At his Anointing gave, his car unchecked
Would course through air, o'er mountains and o'er seas,
Like wind-borne cloud. Then in his car at eve,
With store of arms, brave, pious Raghu slept,—
To smite at dawn Kuvera, whom he deemed
A neighbour-king, no more. But lo! at dawn
Amazed his treasure-keepers told the King,
What stayed his march, that while men slept there fell
From Heav'n a rain of gold and filled his store.
The whole bright heap Kuvera fearing sent,
The King to Kautsa gave, as 'twere a crag
By lightning split from Meru; and the folk
Praised both the Saint, who asked his fee, no more,—
And praised the generous King, who pressed on him
More than his asking. Now, the well-pleased Saint,
At last consenting, took the golden store,
Which camels bore and mares, and laid his hands
On Raghu bending low, and parting blessed:—
"While such a King rules men, well may the Earth
Yield wealth with which she teems; yet how conceive
Thy fame, for whom e'en Heav'n pours forth such store
Beyond men's asking? All things else thou hast,
Save what I now bestow: receive a son
Rich as thyself in virtue, as thy Sire
Got thee, praiseworthy!" Him the Saint thus blessed,
Then sought his Master: and the King ere long
Received the promised son, as living souls
From sunlight power of seeing: for the Queen
At Brahmâ's hour, 'tis told, brought forth a prince,
As Umâ's child resplendent,—whom his Sire
Named Aja, Unborn, from the Soul Supreme.
His Father's joy was he: like him in might,
Tall as himself, as vigorous, grew the Prince,
As shines a fresh-lit lamp with equal light
To that it springs from. Teachers trained the boy
In lofty learning, radiant beamed his youth,
And Fortune loved him well, yet seemed to wait
(Like bashful virgin) till the King his Sire
Should mate her with him.
Now great Bhoja, King
Of Krathakaiçakas, to Raghu sent
A noble envoy, bidding Aja come
To fair Indumatî's Swayamvara,
His sister's Maiden Choice. The King, well-pleased,
Both deeming Aja come to manly prime,
And her a peerless bride, sent forth the Prince,
With lordly host well-guarded on the way
To high Vidarbha. Ever on the march
Pavilions fair received him, while the folk
With blessings and with gifts his favour sought.
His journey o'er, on Narmadâ's green banks,
Where, gently stirred and moistened by the breeze,
Waved Karang trees, his weary host found rest,
And reared their standards, dusty from the road.
Sudden a mighty Tusker reared his front
Amid the waves, where hovering swarms of bees
Betrayed his presence, washing ichor sweet
From his broad temples,—while his blunted tusks
Showed by the dark-blue streak (the ore washed off)
How on Rikshâvan's rocks he spent his rage.
Up rose he, faced the bank, and nimbly waved
His mighty trunk before him and behind,
Roared loudly, and with all-resistless strength
Burst through the torrent, breaking watery chains.
Broad-chested as a mountain, tangled nets
Of clinging weeds he drew, the while in front
A threatening mass of waters rose,—then climbed
The river-bank. His captive peers he marked,
And from his cloven brows the ichor-stream,
Checked only by the wave, returned in flood.
That much exciting savour when they knew,
As acrid as the Saptachada's sap,
The mighty beasts of Aja's host broke bounds,
Unheeding sharpest goads, and fled. The camp
At once confusion seized: in headlong flight
Yoke-oxen broke their bands, threw o'er the cars
(Their axles smashed),—and active warrior-hands
Scarce saved the timid dames. The Prince alone
Availed to stay the rout: who slightly drew,—
To lightly wound, not slay (so runs the Law),—
His bowstring, loosed a shaft, and 'twixt the eyes
The mighty brute he smote. The bestial shape
At once, being struck, the wondering army saw
Shed like a garment, while in radiant guise,
In heavenly beauty clad, with light-rays crowned,
A princely form appeared. A rain of flowers,
Won by his power from Heav'n, he grateful poured
On Aja's head; then spoke in winning tones,
The while his flashing teeth lit up the gems.
That clung about his neck:—"Of old my pride
Drew down Matanga's curse, and doomed my stay
In hateful tusker's shape; for I, fair Prince,
Priyamvada am named, great Indra's son.
"Moved by my humble prayers, the Saint appeased
More mild became, as water which the flame
May raise to boiling, yet by nature's law
Resumes its grateful cold,—and thus decreed:—
'When Aja, sprung in high Ikshvâku's line,
With iron-pointed shaft shall cleave thy brow,
Thy proper glorious shape thou shalt regain!'
To see thee long I've yearned: now, mighty Prince,
Freed by thee from my curse, with worthy gift
I must requite thee,—else my power restored
Were useless. Take, O friend, this magic shaft
Named Sleep-compeller, launched and then recalled
By spells diverse, which to its master gives
Sure triumph o'er his foes, those foes unhurt.
Blush not for shame at only seeming harm!
Thy blow was kindness! grieve me not, I pray,
By scorning this my gift."
The courteous Prince,
That Moon of men, gave thanks; then faced the North,
Touched the pure waters of the Moon-born stream,
And, skilled in arms, received the magic dart
Which his high friend now gave. Thus Fate decreed
How these, once seeming foes, wayfaring met,
Should join fast friendship:—Chaitraratha's groves
The one now sought, well-ruled Vidarbha's realm
The other welcomed soon, whom courteously
Before the city gates the joyful King
Received, as Ocean swells to greet the Moon
With heaving waves, and to the city brought,
His glory waiving, with observance sweet
And lowly bearing,—till the crowds might deem
Their King was guest, and Aja was the King.
Then as the God of Love, his boyhood past,
Takes on the pride of youth, so Raghu's heir
Possessed the lovely palace, newly-built,
Before whose gates an altar stood, and jars
Brimful of water, destined for his use.
Then Sleep, as loving wife who seeks her lord,
To Aja's eyes came late, who sighed and longed
To win the peerless Maid, to woo whose Choice
The rival kings had come in pomp and state.
Him ere 'twas day, that all-accomplished Prince,
Whose shoulders bore the scars of ear-drops gemmed,
From whose dark limbs the ointment had been wiped
By silken bedding, with sweet songs his peers,
Well-skilled to sing, roused for the auspicious day.
"Awake, wise Prince! for darksome night is past!
And Brahmâ now has cleft the weight of rule,
Which half thy Sire bears up and half Thyself.
"The waning Moon now sinks, and yields the prize
Of beauty to thy face,—whom Lakshmî wooed,
Forsaken and despised by thee for Sleep.
"Unclose thine eyes, that so by mutual gift
Their beauty and the lily's may increase,
Where roll or pupils dark or black wild bees.
The morning breeze, that vainly seeks to win
From other source the scent of thy sweet breath,
Tears from their stalks the flowers that loosely hang
On blossoming trees, or woos the lotus bright
New opening to the Sun. Now on the leaves
Tinged ruddy rests the dew, a pearly band
With double lustre, as thy gladsome smile
Plays o'er the gleaming teeth. The dawn, fair Prince!
Dispels night's clouds until the Sun arise,
Then ceases: shall thy Sire then crush the foe,
Now thou art come to lead his armèd host?
"Thy elephants have burst the bands of sleep,
They drag their clanking chains, and quit their couch;
Their tusks like fresh buds gleam when bathed in light
Shed by the morning sun, a glittering show,
As stained with ochre from the mountain-sides.
"These steeds Vanâyu-bred, O mild-eyed Prince,
Bound with long tent-ropes, shaking slumber off,
Stain with hot breath the rock-salt left to lick.
"Thy flower-wreaths languish now, and now the lamps
Burn dim, and lose the halo of their rays,
And thy caged parrot, warbling cheerful notes,
Mocks this our morning hymn!"
So sang the bards.
The Prince, fresh roused from sleep by tuneful praise,
Forsook his couch, as Heav'n's great elephant
By cranes' clear song aroused an islet leaves
Of holy Gangâ. Due devotions paid,
Commanded in the Law for morning's prime,
The bright-browed Prince, by skilful hands arrayed
In fitting vesture, sought the lofty hall,
Where Kings were met to grace the Maiden's Choice.