The Ramayan by Valmiki — Read

The Lord of life the skies regained: The fervent king a year remained With arms upraised, refusing rest While with one toe the earth he pressed, Still as a post, with sleepless eye, The air his food, his roof the sky. The year had past. Then Uma's lord, King of creation, world adored, Thus spoke to great Bhagirath: "I, Well pleased thy wish will gratify, And on my head her waves shall fling The daughter of the Mountains' King!"

He stood upon the lofty crest That crowns the Lord of Snow, And bade the river of the Blest Descend on earth below. Himalaya's child, adored of all, The haughty mandate heard, And her proud bosom, at the call, With furious wrath was stirred. Down from her channel in the skies With awful might she sped With a giant's rush, in a giant's size, On Siva's holy head. "He calls me," in her wrath she cried, "And all my flood shall sweep And whirl him in its whelming tide To hell's profoundest deep." He held the river on his head, And kept her wandering, where, Dense as Himalaya's woods, were spread The tangles of his hair. No way to earth she found, ashamed, Though long and sore she strove, Condemned, until her pride were tamed, Amid his locks to rove. There, many lengthening seasons through, The wildered river ran: Bhagirath saw it, and anew His penance dire began. Then Siva, for the hermit's sake, Bade her long wanderings end, And sinking into Vindu's lake Her weary waves descend. From Ganga, by the God set free, Seven noble rivers came; Hladini, Pavani, and she Called Nalini by name: These rolled their lucid waves along And sought the eastern side. Suchakshu, Sita fair and strong, And Sindhu's mighty tide-- These to the region of the west With joyful waters sped: The seventh, the brightest and the best, Flowed where Bhagirath led. On Siva's head descending first A rest the torrents found: Then down in all their might they burst And roared along the ground. On countless glittering scales the beam Of rosy morning flashed, Where fish and dolphins through the stream Fallen and falling dashed. Then bards who chant celestial lays And nymphs of heavenly birth Flocked round upon that flood to gaze That streamed from sky to earth. The Gods themselves from every sphere, Incomparably bright, Borne in their golden cars drew near To see the wondrous sight. The cloudless sky was all aflame With the light of a hundred suns Where'er the shining chariots came That bore those holy ones. So flashed the air with crested snakes And fish of every hue As when the lightning's glory breaks Through fields of summer blue. And white foam-clouds and silver spray Were wildly tossed on high, Like swans that urge their homeward way Across the autumn sky. Now ran the river calm and clear With current strong and deep: Now slowly broadened to a mere, Or scarcely seemed to creep. Now o'er a length of sandy plain Her tranquil course she held; Now rose her waves and sank again, By refluent waves repelled. So falling first on Siva's head, Thence rushing to their earthly bed, In ceaseless fall the waters streamed, And pure with holy lustre gleamed. Then every spirit, sage, and bard, Condemned to earth by sentence hard, Pressed eagerly around the tide That Siva's touch had sanctified. Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled, Accursed, to this lower world, Touched the pure wave, and freed from sin Resought the skies and entered in. And all the world was glad, whereon The glorious water flowed and shone, For sin and stain were banished thence By the sweet river's influence. First, in a car of heavenly frame, The royal saint of deathless name, Bhagirath, very glorious rode, And after him fair Ganga flowed. God, sage, and bard, the chief in place Of spirits and the Naga race, Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array Sped where Bhagirath led the way; And all the hosts the flood that swim Followed the stream that followed him. Where'er the great Bhagirath led, There ever glorious Ganga fled, The best of floods, the rivers' queen, Whose waters wash the wicked clean.