THE DYNASTY OF RAGHU
Project Gutenberg EPUB edition
Kālidāsa and Ryder, Arthur W. (Arthur William)
The Dynasty of Raghu is an epic poem in nineteen cantos. It consists of 1564 stanzas, or something over six thousand lines of verse. The subject is that great line of kings who traced their origin to the sun, the famous "solar line" of Indian story. The bright particular star of the solar line is Rama, the knight without fear and without reproach, the Indian ideal of a gentleman. His story had been told long before Kalidasa's time in the Ramayana, an epic which does not need to shun comparison with the foremost epic poems of Europe. In The Dynasty of Raghu, too, Rama is the central figure; yet in Kalidasa's poem there is much detail concerning other princes of the line. The poem thus naturally falls into three great parts: first, the four immediate ancestors of Rama (cantos 1-9); second, Rama (cantos 10-15); third, certain descendants of Rama (cantos 16-19). A somewhat detailed account of the matter of the poem may well precede criticism and comment.
First canto. The journey to the hermitage.—The poem begins with the customary brief prayer for Shiva's favour:
God Shiva and his mountain bride, Like word and meaning unified, The world's great parents, I beseech To join fit meaning to my speech.
Then follow nine stanzas in which Kalidasa speaks more directly of himself than elsewhere in his works:
How great is Raghu's solar line! How feebly small are powers of mine! As if upon the ocean's swell I launched a puny cockle-shell.
The fool who seeks a poet's fame Must look for ridicule and blame, Like tiptoe dwarf who fain would try To pluck the fruit for giants high.
Yet I may enter through the door That mightier poets pierced of yore; A thread may pierce a jewel, but Must follow where the diamond cut.
Of kings who lived as saints from birth, Who ruled to ocean-shore on earth, Who toiled until success was given, Whose chariots stormed the gates of heaven,
Whose pious offerings were blest, Who gave his wish to every guest, Whose punishments were as the crimes, Who woke to guard the world betimes,
Who sought, that they might lavish, pelf, Whose measured speech was truth itself, Who fought victorious wars for fame, Who loved in wives the mother's name,
Who studied all good arts as boys, Who loved, in manhood, manhood's joys, Whose age was free from worldly care, Who breathed their lives away in prayer,
Of these I sing, of Raghu's line, Though weak mine art, and wisdom mine. Forgive these idle stammerings And think: For virtue's sake he sings.
The good who hear me will be glad To pluck the good from out the bad; When ore is proved by fire, the loss Is not of purest gold, but dross.
After the briefest glance at the origin of the solar line, the poet tells of Rama's great-great-grandfather, King Dilipa. The detailed description of Dilipa's virtues has interest as showing Kalidasa's ideal of an aristocrat; a brief sample must suffice here:
He practised virtue, though in health; Won riches, with no greed for wealth; Guarded his life, though not from fear; Prized joys of earth, but not too dear.
His virtuous foes he could esteem Like bitter drugs that healing seem; The friends who sinned he could forsake Like fingers bitten by a snake.
Yet King Dilipa has one deep-seated grief: he has no son. He therefore journeys with his queen to the hermitage of the sage Vasishtha, in order to learn what they must do to propitiate an offended fate. Their chariot rolls over country roads past fragrant lotus-ponds and screaming peacocks and trustful deer, under archways formed without supporting pillars by the cranes, through villages where they receive the blessings of the people. At sunset they reach the peaceful forest hermitage, and are welcomed by the sage. In response to Vasishtha's benevolent inquiries, the king declares that all goes well in the kingdom, and yet:
Until from this dear wife there springs A son as great as former kings, The seven islands of the earth And all their gems, are nothing worth.
The final debt, most holy one, Which still I owe to life—a son— Galls me as galls the cutting chain An elephant housed in dirt and pain.
Vasishtha tells the king that on a former occasion he had offended the divine cow Fragrant, and had been cursed by the cow to lack children until he had propitiated her own offspring. While the sage is speaking, Fragrant's daughter approaches, and is entrusted to the care of the king and queen.
Second canto. The holy cow's gift.—During twenty-one days the king accompanies the cow during her wanderings in the forest, and each night the queen welcomes their return to the hermitage. On the twenty-second day the cow is attacked by a lion, and when the king hastens to draw an arrow, his arm is magically numbed, so that he stands helpless. To increase his horror, the lion speaks with a human voice, saying that he is a servant of the god Shiva, set on guard there and eating as his appointed food any animals that may appear. Dilipa perceives that a struggle with earthly weapons is useless, and begs the lion to accept his own body as the price of the cow's release. The lion tries sophistry, using the old, hollow arguments:
Great beauty and fresh youth are yours; on earth As sole, unrivalled emperor you rule; Should you redeem a thing of little worth At such a price, you would appear a fool.
If pity moves you, think that one mere cow Would be the gainer, should you choose to die; Live rather for the world! Remember how The father-king can bid all dangers fly.
And if the fiery sage's wrath, aglow At loss of one sole cow, should make you shudder, Appease his anger; for you can bestow Cows by the million, each with pot-like udder.
Save life and youth; for to the dead are given No long, unbroken years of joyous mirth; But riches and imperial power are heaven— The gods have nothing that you lack on earth.
The lion spoke and ceased; but echo rolled Forth from the caves wherein the sound was pent, As if the hills applauded manifold, Repeating once again the argument.
Dilipa has no trouble in piercing this sophistical argument, and again offers his own life, begging the lion to spare the body of his fame rather than the body of his flesh. The lion consents, but when the king resolutely presents himself to be eaten, the illusion vanishes, and the holy cow grants the king his desire. The king returns to his capital with the queen, who shortly becomes pregnant.
Third canto. Raghu's consecration.—The queen gives birth to a glorious boy, whom the joyful father names Raghu. There follows a description of the happy family, of which a few stanzas are given here:
The king drank pleasure from him late and soon With eyes that stared like windless lotus-flowers; Unselfish joy expanded all his powers As swells the sea responsive to the moon.
The rooted love that filled each parent's soul For the other, deep as bird's love for the mate, Was now divided with the boy; and straight The remaining half proved greater than the whole.
He learned the reverence that befits a boy; Following the nurse's words, began to talk; And clinging to her finger, learned to walk: These childish lessons stretched his father's joy,
Who clasped the baby to his breast, and thrilled To feel the nectar-touch upon his skin, Half closed his eyes, the father's bliss to win Which, more for long delay, his being filled.
The baby hair must needs be clipped; yet he Retained two dangling locks, his cheeks to fret; And down the river of the alphabet He swam, with other boys, to learning's sea.
Religion's rites, and what good learning suits A prince, he had from teachers old and wise; Not theirs the pain of barren enterprise, For effort spent on good material, fruits.
This happy childhood is followed by a youth equally happy. Raghu is married and made crown prince. He is entrusted with the care of the horse of sacrifice, 1 and when Indra, king of the gods, steals the horse, Raghu fights him. He cannot overcome the king of heaven, yet he acquits himself so creditably that he wins Indra's friendship. In consequence of this proof of his manhood, the empire is bestowed upon Raghu by his father, who retires with his queen to the forest, to spend his last days and prepare for death.
Fourth canto. Raghu conquers the world.—The canto opens with several stanzas descriptive of the glory of youthful King Raghu.
He manifested royal worth By even justice toward the earth, Beloved as is the southern breeze, Too cool to burn, too warm to freeze.
The people loved his father, yet For greater virtues could forget; The beauty of the blossoms fair Is lost when mango-fruits are there.
But the vassal kings are restless
For when they knew the king was gone And power was wielded by his son, The wrath of subject kings awoke, Which had been damped in sullen smoke.