Still in eager quest of Sita the Vanar roamed stealthily from place to place within the spacious bounds of the royal palace, and, as day was breaking, entered the enchanting ashoka grove, a sort of ideal retreat in fairyland. Here Rama’s messenger discovered the weeping, but still peerless, captive, guarded by fierce she-demons of monstrous shapes—a weird, frightful troupe—some earless, some with ears hanging down to their feet, some one-eyed, some long-necked and covered with hair, some huge, some dwarfish, some with faces of buffaloes, others with the heads of dogs and swine. Perched upon a bough, and concealed by its foliage, Hanuman watched his opportunity to open communication with the object of his search. Presently Ravana, in great state, heralded by music and attended by a crowd of ravishing beauties, with tinkling zones, entered the grove. Sita, in utter despair, fell upon the ground
“Like Hope when all her dreams are o’er.”
Approaching her kindly, the King of Lanka, who was passionately enamoured of her beauty, endeavoured to reassure her, and wooed her softly with all the arts of flattery, with offers of boundless wealth, and with protestations of deep affection.
“Methinks when thy sweet form was made
His hand the wise Creator stayed;
For never more could he design
A beauty meet to rival thine.
Come let us love while yet we may,
For youth will fly and charms decay.”
—Griffith.
Sita, ever faithful to her lord, treated his suit with scorn; whereupon the demon king, waxing wrath, threatened to have her killed and served up at his table if she persisted in rejecting his advances. Turning to leave the palace in high dudgeon, he directed the demon guards to bend the fair captive to his will by threats and blandishments of every kind. Their persuasions being unsuccessful, these horrid monsters assailed the unfortunate princess with threatening weapons; but even in this critical moment the pure, chaste wife of Rama preferred death to dishonour.[37]
Amidst the persecutions of the luckless Sita an old Rakshasa matron, named Trajata, raised a warning voice; for she had dreamed a dream which foreboded the destruction of Lanka by Rama, and she counselled the demons to deal kindly by Sita, if they hoped for mercy from the conquerors.
It seems necessary to explain now that it was not a sense of honour or a feeling of chivalry that had restrained the unscrupulous King of Lanka from the gratification of his passion. It was fear only that kept him back; for, as he confidentially explained to his assembled lords, having once, under the influence of ungovernable desire, dishonoured one of the nymphs of Indra’s heaven, fair Punjikashthala, Brahma had decreed that if Ravana committed the same offence again his head should be rent in pieces. Of course this fact and the protection thus enjoyed by Sita, through dread of Brahma’s decree, were quite unknown to Rama, whose knowledge was merely human.
At length the Vanar found the long wished-for opportunity of communicating with Sita and of consoling her with the hope of an early rescue. He even offered to carry her off, there and then, on his shoulders, but her modesty shrank from the mere thought of voluntarily touching the body of any male person beside Rama. The monkey-god then set about committing as much destruction as he could in the city of Lanka, which, built by Visvakarma, the architect of the gods, is described as surpassingly beautiful and encircled by a golden wall. After a succession of fierce and successful battles with the giants—thousands at the time with their most famous captains—Hanuman, covered from head to foot with wounds, was noosed by means of a magic shaft from the bow of Ravana’s son, Indrajit, overpowered and taken prisoner. Exceedingly incensed, Ravana ordered the destructive and formidable Vanar to be put to death at once. One of his counsellors, however, suggesting that Hanuman might be regarded in the light of an envoy from Rama, it was decided to spare his life, but, at the same time, to treat him with the greatest indignity before releasing him. In pursuance of this determination his tail was wrapped round with cloth dipped in oil, which was then set on fire; but at the prayer of Sita, who came to know what was going on in the city, the flames abstained from harming her friend. By contracting his dimensions, Hanuman easily freed himself from his bonds, and now, by means of his blazing tail, carried fire and destruction through the beautiful city; after which he once more performed his perilous journey through the air, back to the mainland of India, bearing tidings of his doings to his master and Rama.
When the place of Sita’s captivity became known, the Vanar armies were rapidly advanced southward, and encamped on the border of the strait which separates Lanka from the mainland of India. Here they were joined by Vibhishana, Ravana’s brother, who, with four attendants, had fled through the air from Lanka, in dread of the consequences of the offence he had given his king, by counselling conciliatory proceedings towards Rama, of whose formidable prowess he seems to have formed a just estimate.