Canto LXVI. Hanumán.

The chieftain turned his glances where

The legions sat in mute despair;

And then to Hanumán, the best

Of Vánar lords, these words addressed:

“Why still, and silent, and apart,

O hero of the dauntless heart?

Thou keepest treasured in thy mind

The laws that rule the Vánar kind,

Strong as our king Sugríva, brave

As Ráma's self to slay or save.

Through every land thy praise is heard,

Famous as that illustrious bird,

Aríshṭanemi's son,[781] the king

Of every fowl that plies the wing.

Oft have I seen the monarch sweep

With sounding pinions o'er the deep,

And in his mighty talons bear

Huge serpents struggling through the air.

Thy arms, O hero, match in might

The ample wings he spreads for flight;

And thou with him mayest well compare

In power to do, in heart to dare.

Why, rich in wisdom, power, and skill,

O hero, art thou lingering still?

An Apsaras[782] the fairest found

Of nymphs for heavenly charms renowned,

Sweet Punjikasthalá, became

A noble Vánar's wedded dame.

Her heavenly title heard no more,

Anjaná was the name she bore,

When, cursed by Gods, from heaven she fell

In Vánar form on earth to dwell,

New-born in mortal shape the child

Of Kunjar monarch of the wild.

In youthful beauty wondrous fair,

A crown of flowers about her hair,

In silken robes of richest dye

She roamed the hills that kiss the sky.

Once in her tinted garments dressed

She stood upon the mountain crest,

The God of Wind beside her came,

And breathed upon the lovely dame.

And as he fanned her robe aside

The wondrous beauty that he eyed

In rounded lines of breast and limb

And neck and shoulder ravished him;

And captured by her peerless charms

He strained her in his amorous arms.

Then to the eager God she cried

In trembling accents, terrified:

“Whose impious love has wronged a spouse

So constant in her nuptial vows?”

He heard, and thus his answer made:

“O, be not troubled, nor afraid,

But trust, and thou shalt know ere long

My love has done thee, sweet, no wrong,

So strong and brave and wise shall be

The glorious child I give to thee.

Might shall be his that naught can tire,

And limbs to spring as springs his sire.”

Thus spoke the God; the conquered dame

Rejoiced in heart nor feared the shame.

Down in a cave beneath the earth

The happy mother gave thee birth.

Once o'er the summit of the wood

Before thine eyes the new sun stood.

Thou sprangest up in haste to seize

What seemed the fruitage of the trees.

Up leapt the child, a wondrous bound,

Three hundred leagues above the ground,

And, though the angered Day-God shot

His fierce beams on him, feared him not.

Then from the hand of Indra came

A red bolt winged with wrath and flame.

The child fell smitten on a rock,

His cheek was shattered by the shock,

Named Hanumán[783] thenceforth by all

In memory of the fearful fall.

The wandering Wind-God saw thee lie

With bleeding cheek and drooping eye,

And stirred to anger by thy woe

Forbade each scented breeze to blow.

The breath of all the worlds was stilled,

And the sad Gods with terror filled

Prayed to the Wind, to calm the ire

And soothe the sorrow of the sire.

His fiery wrath no longer glowed,

And Brahmá's self the boon bestowed

That in the brunt of battle none

Should slay with steel the Wind-God's son.

Lord Indra, sovereign of the skies,

Bent on thee all his thousand eyes,

And swore that ne'er the bolt which he

Hurls from the heaven should injure thee.

'Tis thine, O mighty chief, to share

The Wind-God's power, his son and heir.

Sprung from that glorious father thou,

And thou alone, canst aid us now.

This earth of yore, through all her climes,

I circled one-and-twenty times,

And gathered, as the Gods decreed,

Great store of herbs from hill and mead,

Which, scattered o'er the troubled wave,

The Amrit to the toilers gave.

But now my days are wellnigh told,

My strength is gone, my limbs are old,

And thou, the bravest and the best,

Art the sure hope of all the rest.

Now, mighty chief, the task assay:

Thy matchless power and strength display.

Rise up, O prince, our second king,

And o'er the flood of ocean spring.

So shall the glorious exploit vie

With his who stepped through earth and sky.”[784]

He spoke: the younger chieftain heard,

His soul to vigorous effort stirred,

And stood before their joyous eyes

Dilated in gigantic size.