;
Or her who aye for me has striven
Sumitra, to devotion given.
Hence, Lakshman, to Ayodhya speed,
Returning in the hour of need.
With Sita I my steps will bend
Where Dandak's mighty woods extend.
No guardian has Kausalya now:
O, be her friend and guardian thou.
Strong hate may vile Kaikeyi lead
To many a base unrighteous deed,
Treading my mother 'neath her feet
When Bharat holds the royal seat.
Sure in some antenatal time
Were children, by Kausalya's crime,
Torn from their mothers' arms away,
And hence she mourns this evil day.
She for her child no toil would spare
Tending me long with pain and care;
Now in the hour of fruitage she
Has lost that son, ah, woe is me.
O Lakshman, may no matron e'er
A son so doomed to sorrow bear
As I, my mother's heart who rend
With anguish that can never end.
The Sarika,(325) methinks, possessed
More love than glows in Rama's breast.
Who, as the tale is told to us,
Addressed the stricken parrot thus:
"Parrot, the capturer's talons tear,
While yet alone thou flutterest there,
Before his mouth has closed on me:"
So cried the bird, herself to free.
Reft of her son, in childless woe,
My mother's tears for ever flow:
Ill-fated, doomed with grief to strive,
What aid can she from me derive?
Pressed down by care, she cannot rise
From sorrow's flood wherein she lies.
In righteous wrath my single arm
Could, with my bow, protect from harm
Ayodhya's town and all the earth:
But what is hero prowess worth?
Lest breaking duty's law I sin,
And lose the heaven I strive to win,
The forest life today I choose,
And kingly state and power refuse."

Thus mourning in that lonely spot
The troubled chief bewailed his lot,
And filled with tears, his eyes ran o'er;
Then silent sat, and spake no more.
To him, when ceased his loud lament,
Like fire whose brilliant might is spent,
Or the great sea when sleeps the wave,
Thus Lakshman consolation gave:
"Chief of the brave who bear the bow,
E'en now Ayodhya, sunk in woe,
By thy departure reft of light
Is gloomy as the moonless night.
Unfit it seems that thou, O chief,
Shouldst so afflict thy soul with grief,
So with thou Sita's heart consign
To deep despair as well as mine.
Not I, O Raghu's son, nor she
Could live one hour deprived of thee:
We were, without thine arm to save,
Like fish deserted by the wave.
Although my mother dear to meet,
Satrughna, and the king, were sweet,
On them, or heaven, to feed mine eye
Were nothing, if thou