As Queen Kaus'alyá, trembling much,
As blighted by a goblin's touch,
Still lying prostrate, half awoke
To consciousness,'twas thus she spoke:
'Bear me away, Sumantra, far,
Where Ráma, Sítá, Lakshman are.
Bereft of them I have no power
To linger on a single hour.
Again, I pray, thy steps retrace,
And me in Dandak forest place,
For after them I needs must go,
Or sink to Yama's realms below
His utterance choked by tears that rolled
Down from their fountains uncontrolled,
With suppliant hands the charioteer
Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer:
'Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread
That fills thy soul, of sorrow bred,
For pain and anguish thrown aside.
Will Rama in the wood abide.
And Lakshman, with unfailing care
Will guard the feet of Rama there,
Earning, with governed sense, the prize
That waits on duty in the skies.
And Sita in the wild as well
As in her own dear home will dwell;
To Rama all her heart she gives,
And free from doubt and terror lives.
No faintest sign of care or woe
The features of the lady show:
Rethinks Videha's pride was made
For exile in the forest shade.
E'en as of old she used to rove
Delighted in the city's grove,
Thus, even thus she joys to tread
The woodlands uninhabited.
Like a young child, her face as fair
As the young moon, she wanders there.
What though in lonely woods she stray
Still Rama is her joy and stay:
All his the heart no sorrow bends,
Her very life on him depends.
For, if her lord she might not see,
Ayodhy'a like the wood would be.
She bids him, as she roams, declare
The names of towns and hamlets there,
Marks various trees that meet her eye,
And many a brook that hurries by,
And Janak's daughter seems home
When Rama or his brother spanks
And gives the answer that she seeks.
This, Lady, I remember well,
Nor angry words have to tell:
Reproaches at Kaikey'i shot,
Such, queen, my mind remembers not.'
The speech when Sita's wrath was high,
Sumantra passed in silence by,
That so his pleasant words might
With sweet report Kaulay'a's ear.
Her moonlike beauty suffers not
Though winds be rude and suns be hot:
The way, the danger, and the toil
Her gentle lustre may not soil.
Like the red liiy's leafy crown
Or as the fair full moon looks down,
So the Videhan lady's face
Still shines with undimmished grace.
What if the borrowed colours throw
O'er her fine feet no row glow,
Still with their natural tints they spread
A lotus glory where they tread.
In sportive grace she walks the ground
And sweet her chiming anklets sound.
No jewels clasp the faultless limb:
She leaves them all for love of him.
If in the woods her gentle eye
A lion sees, or tiger nigh,
Or elephant, she fears no ill
For Rama's arm supports her still,
No longer be their fate deplored,
Nor thine, nor that of Kosal's lord,
For conduct such as theirs shall buy
Wide glory that can never die.
For casting grief and care away,
Delighting in the forest, they
With joyful spirits, blithe and gay,
Set forward on the ancient way
Where mighty saints have led:
Their highest aim, their dearest care
To keep their father's honour fair,
Observing still the oath he sware,
They roam, on wild fruit fed.'
Thus with persuasive art he tried
To turn her from her grief aside,
By soothing fancies won.
But still she gave her sorrow vent:
'Ah Rama,' was her shrill lament,
'My love, my son, my son!'
165:1 The lines containing this heap of forced metaphors are marked as spurious by Schlegel.