पृष्ठम्:Sanskrit Literature.djvu/१२८

96 KĀLIDĀSA AND THE GUPTAS powers find congenial subject-matter in describing the sights of India as seen from the aerial car on which Rāma and Sītā return to Ayodhyā. Then follows a series of brilliant sketches; Rāma and Sītā visit the widows of the king, who scarce can see them for their tears, which speedily change to joy. Sitä alone weeps for the trouble her beauty has brought her husband, a foreboding of woe. For the moment all is brightness; the glorious ceremonial of the royal consecration follows. But disaster is at hand; malicious voices reproach the king whose one wife has stayed so long in Rāvana's home. Rāma places duty above love; he bids Lakṣ- mana take Sītā-now pregnant-to Vālmīki's hermitage, and there break to her the truth of her fate; overwhelmed, she de- plores her lot but utters no reproach. Rāma rules in solitude, her sculptured form his companion in his sacrifices (xiv). From his sorrow he is awakened to overthrow demon foes on the Yamunā banks, while in the hermitage Sitā bears two boys who, taught by Vālmīki the tale of their father's deed, console her sorrowing heart by reciting it. The day comes when Rāma determines to perform the horse sacrifice; he rests in a hut be- side the golden statue of his wife; he hears from the boys the song of his deeds; the people, Rāma himself recognize them for his own, Vālmīki begs reinstatement for the queen. Rāma asks only that her stainless purity be made clear; she comes before him, swears to her truth as she drinks the holy water; the earth goddess appears and takes her in her bosom to bear her to the realm below. Rāma transfers to his sons the burdens of the state, saddened by the restoration of Sītā only to be lost forth- with; in due course, followed by all the people, he goes forth from the town and is caught up in a heavenly chariot. The effective and pathetic picture of Sita's end and the return to heaven of Rāma might well have closed the poem, but Canto xvi is not without merit. Kuça, Rama's son, reigns at Kuçāvati; in a dream Ayodhyā appears to him in the guise of a woman whose husband is afar, reproaches him with her fallen condition, and bids him return. Kuça obeys, Ayodhyā once more is glorious, and a description of the delights of summer rivals, but fails to equal, that of spring in Canto ix. For the rest the poem sinks in interest, as Kālidāsa has nothing to tell us but