Page:The Rámáyana of Tulsi Dás.djvu/466

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402
THE BEAUTIFUL.

coming, he was greatly delighted at the completion of the business. The two brothers were seated on a crystal rock and all the monkeys went and fell at their feet.

Dohá 29.

Raghupati in his infinite tenderness greeted them all with much affection and asked of their welfare. "All is well with us, my lord, now that we have seen your lotus feet."

Chaupái.

Said Jámavant; "Hearken, Raghu-ráya; anyone, my lord, on whom you show favour will always be prosperous for ever; gods, men and saints will be gracious to him; though victorious he will still remain modest and amiable, and his glory will irradiate all the three spheres of creation. By my lord's favour the task has been accomplished, and to-day we may well say that our life has been worth living. My lord, to tell the whole of Hanumán's doings would be too much for a thousand tongues." Jámavant then proceeded to inform Ráma of Hanumán's principal exploits. The All-merciful was charmed by the recital and again in his joy clasped Hanumán to his bosom. "Tell me, son, how Jánaki is, and how she keeps life in her body."

Dohá 30.

"Your name is sentinel over her by night and day; her contemplation of you is as a prison-gate; her eyes are the fetters for her feet; how then is it possible for her life to flit away?

Chaupái.

When I was leaving, she gave me this jewel from her hair." Raghupati took and clasped it to his heart, while his eyes overflowed with tears. "And did Sita send any message also?" "Embrace the feet of my lord and his brother, erying, O friend of the poor, reliever of the suppliant's distress; in heart, word and deed, I am devoted to your service; for what offence, my lord, have you deserted me? Of one fault I am myself conscious, in that I still continue to live, though separated from you. But this, my lord, is the fault of my eyes which prevent my soul from taking flight. In this furnace of bereavement which is fanned by my sighs, my body is as it were a heap of cotton and would be consumed in a moment, but my eyes drop such a flood in self-commiseration that it cannot catch fire. Síta's distress is so utterly overwhelming and you are so pitiful that it is better not to describe it.