er cry shall Lakshman tell
How, slain by night, the Vanars fell;
How to thy side the giants crept,
And slew the hero as he slept.
Thy fate and mine the queen will know,
And broken-hearted die of woe.
For my unworthy sake, for mine,
Rama, the glory of his line,
Who bridged his way across the main,
Is basely in a puddle slain;
And I, the graceless wife he wed,
Have brought this ruin on his head.
Me, too, on him, O Ravan, slay:
The wife beside her husband lay.
By his dear body let me rest,
Cheek close to cheek and breast to breast,
My happy eyes I then will close,
And follow whither Rama goes."

Thus cried the miserable dame;
When to the king a warder came,
Before the giant monarch bowed
And said that, followed by a crowd
Of counsellors and lords of state,
Prahasta stood before the gate,
And, sent by some engrossing care,
Craved audience of his master there.
The anxious tyrant left his seat
And hastened forth the chief to meet:
Then summoning his nobles all,
Took counsel in his regal hall.

When Lanka's lord had left the queen,
The head and bow no more were seen.
The giant king his nobles eyed,
And, terrible as Yama, cried:
"O faithful lords, the time is come:
Gather our hosts with beat of drum.
Nigh to the town our foeman draws:
Be prudent, nor reveal the cause."

The nobles listened and obeyed:
Swift were the gathered troops arrayed,
And countless rovers of the night
Stood burning for the hour of fight.

Canto XXXIII. Sarama.

But Sarama, of gentler mood,
With pitying eyes the mourner viewed,
Stole to her side and softly told
Glad tidings that her heart consoled,
Revealing with sweet voice and smile
The secret of the giant's guile.
She, one of those who night and day
Watching in turns by Sita lay,
Though Rakshas born felt pity's touch,
And loved the hapless lady much.

"I heard," she said, "thy bitter cry,
Heard Ravan's speech and thy reply,
For, hiding in the thicket near,
No word or tone escaped mine ear.
When Ravan hastened forth I bent
My steps to follow as he went,
And learnt the secret cause that drove
The monarch from the Asoka grove.
Believe me, Queen, thou needst not weep
For Rama slaughtered in his sleep.
Thy lion lord of men defies
By day attack, by night surprise.
Can even giants slay with ease
Vast hosts who fight with brandished trees,
For whom, with eye that never sleeps,
His constant watch thy Rama keeps?
Lord of the mighty arm and chest,
Of earthly w