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The Rāmāyaṇa of Vālmīki 2.90.12

Critical edition, Ayodhyā- and Araṇyakāṇḍa (revised e-text) 2.90.12

Language
Sanskrit

2.90.12

evam uktas tu rāmeṇa lakṣmaṇo vākyam abravīt
didhakṣann iva tāṃ senāṃ ruṣitaḥ pāvako yathā //

In eager haste thus Lakshman cried,
And Ráma, lion lord, replied:
'Still closer be the army scanned,
And say who leads the warlike band.'
Lakshman his answer thus returned,
As furious rage within him burned,
Exciting him like kindled fire
To scorch the army in his ire:
'Tis Bharat: be has made the throne
By consecrating rites his own:
To gain the whole dominion thus
He comes in arms to slaughter us.
I mark tree-high upon his car
His flagstaff of the Kovídár,
I see his glittering banner glance,
I see his chivalry advance:
I see his eager warriors shine
On elephants in lengthened line.
Now grasp we each the shafts and bow,
And higher up the mountain go.
Or in this place, O hero, stand
With weapons in each ready hand.
Perhaps beneath our might may fall
This leader of the standard tall,
And Bharat I this day may see
Who brought this mighty woe on thee,
Sítá, and me, who drove away
My brother from the royal sway.
Bharat our foe at length is nigh,
And by this hand shall surely die:
Brother, I see no sin at all
If Bharat by my weapon fall.
No fault is his who slays the foe
Whose hand was first to strike the blow:
With Bharat now the crime begins
Who against thee and duty sins.
The queen athirst for royal sway
Will see her darling son to-day
Fall by this hand, like some fair tree
Struck by an elephant, slain by me.
Kaikeyí's self shall perish too
With kith and kin and retinue,
And earth by my avenging deed
Shall from this mass of sin be freed.
This day my wrath, too long restrained,
Shall fall upon the foe, unchained,
Mad as the kindled flame that speeds
Destroying through the grass and reeds.
This day mine arrows keen and fierce
The bodies of the foe shall pierce;
The woods on Chitrakúta's side
Shall run with torrents crimson-dyed.
The wandering beasts of prey shall feed
On heart-cleft elephant and steed,
And drag to mountain caves away
The bodies that my arrows slay.
Doubt not that Bharat and his train

Ralph T. H. Griffith 1870, The Rámáyan of Válmíki, translated into English verse

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