Scene 46
Part 2: The Ramayan of Valmiki · Act 6: Book 6
Indrajit's Triumph
Scene 46Visible text2 paragraphs
The Vanar chiefs whose piercing eyes Scanned eagerly the earth and skies, Saw the brave brothers wounded sore Transfixed with darts and stained with gore. The monarch of the Vanar race, With wise Vibhishan, reached the place; Angad and Nila came behind, And others of the forest kind, And standing with Hanuman there Lamented for the fallen pair. Their melancholy eyes they raised; In fruitless search a while they gazed. But magic arts Vibhishan knew; Not hidden from his keener view, Though veiled by magic from the rest, The son of Ravan stood confessed. Fierce Indrajit with savage pride The fallen sons of Raghu eyed, And every giant heart was proud As thus the warrior cried aloud: "Slain by mine arrows Rama lies, And closed in death are Lakshman's eyes. Dead are the mighty princes who Dushan and Khara smote and slew. The Gods and fiends may toil in vain To free them from the binding chain. The haughty chief, my father's dread, Who drove him sleepless from his bed, While Lanka, troubled like a brook In rain time, heard his name and shook: He whose fierce hate our lives pursued Lies helpless by my shafts subdued. Now fruitless is each wondrous deed Wrought by the race the forests breed, And fruitless every toil at last Like cloudlets when the rains are past." Then rose the shout of giants loud As thunder from a bursting cloud, When, deeming Rama, dead, they raised Their voices and the conqueror praised.
Still motionless, as lie the slain, The brothers pressed the bloody plain, No sigh they drew, no breath they heaved, And lay as though of life bereaved. Proud of the deed his art had done, To Lanka's town went Ravan's son, Where, as he passed, all fear was stilled, And every heart with triumph filled. Sugriva trembled as he viewed Each fallen prince with blood bedewed, And in his eyes which overflowed With tears the flame of anger glowed. "Calm," cried Vibhishan, "calm thy fears, And stay the torrent of thy tears. Still must the chance of battle change, And victory still delight to range. Our cause again will she befriend And bring us triumph in the end. This is not death: each prince will break The spell that holds him, and awake; Nor long shall numbing magic bind The mighty arm, the lofty mind."