# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto CIII: The Funeral Libation

When Rama heard from Bharat each Dark sorrow of his mournful speech, And tidings of his father dead, His spirits fell, his senses fled. For the sad words his brother spoke Struck on him like a thunder stroke. Fierce as the bolt which Indra throws, The victor of his Daitya foes. Raising his arms in anguish, he, As when the woodman hews a tree With its fair flowery branches crowned, Fainted and fell upon the ground. Lord of the earth to earth he sank. Helpless, as when a towering bank With sudden ruin buries deep An elephant who lay asleep. Then swift his wife and brothers flew, And water, weeping, o'er him threw. As slowly sense and strength he gained, Fast from his eyes the tears he rained, And then in accents sad and weak Kakutstha's son began to speak, And mourning for the monarch dead, With righteous words to Bharat said: 'What calls me home, when he, alas, Has gone the way which all must pass? Of him, the best of kings bereft What guardian has Ayodhya left? How may I please his spirit? how Delight the high-souled monarch now, Who wept for me and went above By me ungraced with mourning love! Ah, happy brothers! you have paid Due offerings to his parting shade. E'en when my banishment is o'er, Back to my home I go no more, To look upon the widowed state Reft of her king, disconsolate. E'en then, O tamer of the foe, If to Ayodhya's town I go. Who will direct me as of old, Now other worlds our father hold? From whom, my brother, shall I hear Those words which ever charmed mine ear And filled my bosom with delight Whene'er he saw me act aright?'  Thus Rama spoke: then nearer came And looking on his moonbright dame, 'Sit'a, the king is gone,' he said:  'And Lakshman, know thy sire is dead, And with the Gods on high enrolled: This mournful news has Bharat told.' He spoke: the noble youths with sighs Rained down the torrents from their eyes. And then the brothers of the chief With words of comfort soothed his grief: 'Now to the king our sire who swayed The earth be due libations paid.' Soon as the monarch's fate she knew, Sharp pangs of grief smote Sita through: Nor could she look upon her lord With eyes from which the torrents poured. And Rama strove with tender care To soothe the weeping dame's despair, And then, with piercing woe distressed, The mournful Lakshman thus addressed: 'Brother, I pray thee bring for me The pressed fruit of the Ingudi, And a bark mantle fresh and new, That I may pay this offering due. First of the three shall Sita go, Next thou, and I the last: for so Moves the funereal pomp of woe.'  Sumantra of the noble mind, Gentle and modest, meek and kind, Who, follower of each princely youth, To Rama clung with constant truth, Now with the royal brothers' aid The grief of Rama soothed and stayed, And lent his arm his lord to guide Down to the river's holy side. Tnat lovely stream the heroes found, With woods that ever blossomed crowned, And there in bitter sorrow bent Their footsteps down the fair descent. Then where the stream that swiftly flowed A pure pellucid shallow showed, The funeral drops they duly shed, And 'Father, this be thine,' they said. But he, the lord who ruled the land, Filled from the stream his hollowed hand, And turning to the southern side Stretched out his arm and weeping cried: 'This sacred water clear and pure, An offering which shall aye endure To thee, O lord of kings, I give: Accept it where the spirits live!'  Then, when the solemn rite was o'er, Came Rama to the river shore, And offered, with his brothers' aid, Fresh tribute to his father's shade. With jujube fruit he mixed the seed Of Ingudis from moisture freed, And placed it on a spot o'erspread With sacred grass, and weeping said: 'Enjoy, great King, the cake which we Thy children eat and offer thee! For ne'er do blessed Gods refuse To share the food which mortals use.'  Then Rama turned him to retrace The path that brought him to the place, And up the mountain's pleasant side Where lovely lawns lay fair, he hied. Soon as his cottage door he gained. His brothers to his breast he strained. From them and Sit'a in their woes So loud the cry of weeping rose, That like the roar of lions round The mountain rolled the echoing sound. And Bharat's army shook with fear The weeping of the chiefs to hear. 'Bharat,' the soldiers cried, ''tis plain, His brother Rama meets again, And with these cries that round us ring They sorrow for their sire the king.' Then leaving car and wain behind, One eager thought in every mind, Swift toward the weeping, every man, As each could find a passage, ran. Some thither bent their eager course With car, and elephant, and horse, And youthful captains on their feet With longing sped their lord to meet, As though the new-come prince had been An exile for long years unseen. Earth beaten in their frantic zeal By clattering hoof and rumbling wheel, Sent forth a deafening noise as loud As heaven when black with many a cloud, Then, with their consorts gathered near, Wild elephants in sudden fear Rushed to a distant wood, and shed An odour round them as they fled. And every silvan thing that dwelt Within those shades the terror felt, Deer, lion, tiger, boar and roe, Bison, wild-cow, and buffalo. And when the tumult wild they heard. With trembling pinions flew each bird, From tree, from thicket, and from lake, Swan, koil, curlew, crane, and drake. With men the ground was overspread, With startled birds the sky o'erhead. Then on his sacrificial ground The sinless, glorious chief was found. Loading with curses deep and loud The hump-back and the queen, the crowd. Whose checks were wet, whose eyes were dim, In fond affection ran to him. While the big tears their eyes bedewed, He looked upon the multitude, And then as sire and mother do, His arms about his loved ones threw.  Some to his feet with reverence pressed,  Some in his arms he strained:  Each friend, with kindly words addressed,  Due share of honour gained.  Then, by their mighty woe o'ercome,  The weeping heroes' cry  Filled, like the roar of many a drum,  Hill, cavern, earth, and sky.