years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Rama, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshvaku's son,
The queen Kaikeyi, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Rama to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed:
"Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Rama be anointed king."
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words; but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Rama, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five--
Rama the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall,
With tender heart that cares for all.
But Dasaratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Rama sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyi, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
"Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
"I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.' "
Then Rama spoke, untouched by dread:
"Yea, it shall be as thou hast said."
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Dasaratha's spouse:
"The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake."
Thus, gentle Brahman, Rama still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Rama on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Rama and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyi's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Brahmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.