Description
To sainted Nárad,prince of those Whose lore in words of wisdom flows.Whose constant care and chief delight Were Scripture and ascetic rite,The good Válmíki,first and best
Of hermit saints,these words addressed:“In all this world,I pray thee,who Is virtuous,heroic,true?Firm in his vows,of grateful mind,To every creature good and kind?
Bounteous,and holy,just,and wise,Alone most fair to all men's eyes?
Devoid of envy,firm,and sage,Whose tranquil soul ne'er yields to rage?
Whom,when his warrior wrath is high,Do Gods embattled fear and fly?
Whose noble might and gentle skill The triple world can guard from ill?
Who is the best of princes,he Who loves his people's good to see?
The store of bliss,the living mine Where brightest joys and virtues shine?
Queen Fortune's10best and dearest friend,Whose steps her choicest gifts attend?
Who may with Sun and Moon compare,With Indra,11Vishṇu,12Fire,and Air?
Grant,Saint divine,13the boon I ask,For thee,I ween,an easy task,
To whom the power is given to know If such a man breathe here below.”
Then Nárad,clear before whose eye The present,past,and future lie,14
Made ready answer:“Hermit,where Are graces found so high and rare?
Yet listen,and my tongue shall tell In whom alone these virtues dwell.
From old Ikshváku's15line he came,Known to the world by Ráma's name:
With soul subdued,a chief of might,In Scripture versed,in glory bright,
His steps in virtue's paths are bent,Obedient,pure,and eloquent.
