BOOK VI.
ARJUNA’S PENANCE.
ARJUN, on his penance bent, Followed Gangâ’s rocky course, Scaled the hill, as Vishnu1 mounts, The golden bird which heavenward soars.
Forest trees like worshippers Sang his praise with hum of bees, Bent their heads and rained their blossoms, Gently shaken by the breeze!
And the sweet and scented zephyr, Saturate with Gangâ’s spray, Softly blew on Arjun’s forehead, And embraced him in their play!
Cascades and rapid mountain torrents Sweep the tall trees in their course, But the gentle bending creeper Escapes their wild resistless force.
And tuneful ducks before him fly, And with their voices fill the brake, In burnished gold swim on the waves,— A golden mantle on the lake!
In deepest wilds the tuskers roam, And mark the banks with many a scar; The swarming bees fly to the spot, And streaming moisture scents the air!
The golden Chakravâk is lost Midst waves in golden tints that shine, And Arjun hears the tender female Call her mate in gentle tone!
Varying tints upon the stream Proclaim the gems in rocks below, As colours on the changeful face The workings of the mind oft show.
But oft the surges, lashed by wind, Spread far and wide their foam awhile,— White as Ketak’s snowy flower,— Brightening the woods with their bright smile!
But mark those spots, like peacock’s feather, Floating on the lucid wave; Wild elephants their juice exude, As they within the waters lave.
And Arjun views the yawning oysters, Lying on their sandy bed, Beauteous with their glistening pearls,2 Or are they tears in sorrow shed?
The creeper’s crimson budding shoot, Which oft the snowy dewdrop tips, Recalls unto the lover’s mind His nymph’s fair teeth, her maddening lips!
And tuskers gambol in the wave, And frolic in the streamlets fair; The waters own their mighty lords, And odours scent the loaded air!
But often from the placid lake The coily snake darts in the air, And breathes its poisoned breath in bubbles White as clouds in autumn fair. (15)
Arjun many a streamlet crossed,— With fishes, bright as woman’s eye,— Like maidens waiting on their queen, The streamlets to great Gangâ hie!
And then he scaled the towering hill, And found a spot, alone, apart, Begirt by many a flowering tree, And pure as purity of heart!
The creepers decked with forest flowers, And trees where fruits in clusters hung, Inclined great Arjun’s pious heart To pious rites and penance long.
By rules ordained he fixed his heart On penance which the saintly know;— What though the penance was severe, Who conquers self can feel no woe.
He quelled his passions by his will, Dispelled all sins by virtue’s light, And rose in merit day by day Like waxing moon of autumn night.
All thoughts and cravings of the flesh By contemplation were dispelled, Until a righteous holy peace Great Arjun’s saintly bosom filled.
By holy hymns and worship due He sought the mighty King of skies, And in his heart harmonious dwelt, A lofty power,—a holy peace! (22)
He wore his plaited manlike locks Red as anchorites should wear; The tall tree wears its crest of leaves Fringed by morning’s red beams fair!
Begirt in arms!—but like great saints In holy deed and gentle soul! The forest creatures knew his love, For love of heart endeareth all!
The breezes softly blew on him, And shed a fragrance as it went; The tropic sun forgot its heat, And but a chastened radiance lent.
And when the hero plucked the flowers, The stately tall trees bent their head; The earth put forth her tender grass To make the hero’s nightly bed!
The cloudless sky auspicious sent Untimely rain the dust to lay; And kindly nature helped his toil, And nursed the hero night and day.
The blossom of his glorious fate By laws divine its fruit thus bore; But signs like these moved not his heart, The great are firm for evermore! (28)
Great Indra’s menials in the forest Heard of Arjun’s rites severe, His mighty merit, lofty virtue,— To their monarch went in fear.
Before the monarch of the sky The menials their obeisance made, And in a humble graceful speech Thus of the unknown hermit said. (30)
“Like a luminary of the sky, Though clad in barks, on yonder hill, A man intent on purpose high Doth penances! And earth is still!
“In arms, whose muscles snake-like coil, He holds a mighty powerful bow; But gentle are his deeds and rites, No gentler hermit lives below.
“The wind blows soft, the sward is green, And gentle rains the dust allay; By worth subdued the elements In one accord obeisance pay.
“The forest beasts their strife forget, And listen to his beck and word; For him the trees with blossoms wait, The mountains own him as their lord!
“His toil bespeaks a purpose high, His mien denotes success is near; A gentle hermit! but his eye Instils a sense of secret fear!
“If from great saints he counts descent, From Daityas sprung or kingly line, We know not, Lord! Nor why in woods He penance doth and rites divine.
“Perchance he toils for purpose high, Perchance it is our ignorance, But as we feel, so speak we, Lord! We foresters are poor in sense!” (37)
Dear to Indra, what they told Of holy rites which Arjun did; But wishing still his faith to try, His rising joy within him hid.
Awhile he thought; and then pretending Not to know great Arjun’s mind, He sought for means to try the saint, And to the nymphs spoke soft and kind. (39)
“Sweetly subtle, gently piercing, Heavenly nymphs! your eye’s keen dart! No arrow speedeth in its flight So true, unerring, to the heart!
“For righteous lore seek anchorites To conquer sins and ills of life; That potent lore, obtained by toil, Before your merry glance is weak!
“All lovely things in universe, All beauteous form and winning charm, Combine to shape your heavenly grace! Go forth with sweet musicians skilled,
“Destroy the mortal’s useless rite; Great anchorites have felt thy power, A youth will feel thy conquering might! ’Tis sure he seeks for joys of earth
“But by the conquest of his foe; Who seeks for heaven strives not so, Who seeks for peace wields not the bow! And dread not from a mighty warrior
“Curse, as from an anchorite; For kind to females, full of sweetness Are great warriors in their might.” Honoured thus with high behest
The nymphs bowed to great Indra’s will, And with a lovelier beauty shone, For honours heightened powers instil! (46)
The nymphs obeisance made, and slow retired, With lovelier charms and pleasing hopes inspired; And Indra with his lotus eyes gazed still Upon their swelling charms, nor gazed his fill! (47)