  "Hark! Lakshman! Hark, again that cry! It is,—it is my husband's voice! Oh hasten, to his succour fly, No more hast thou, dear friend, a choice. He calls on thee, perhaps his foes Environ him on all sides round, That wail,—it means death's final throes! Why standest thou, as magic-bound? "Is this a time for thought,—oh gird Thy bright sword on, and take thy bow! He heeds not, hears not any word, Evil hangs over us, I know! Swift in decision, prompt in deed, Brave unto rashness, can this be, The man to whom all looked at need? Is it my brother, that I see! "Ah no, and I must run alone, For further here I cannot stay; Art thou transformed to blind dumb stone! Wherefore this impious, strange delay! That cry,—that cry,—it seems to ring Still in my ears,—I cannot bear Suspense; if help we fail to bring His death at least we both can share." "Oh calm thyself, Videhan Queen, No cause is there for any fear, Hast thou his prowess never seen? Wipe off for shame that dastard tear! What being of demonian birth Could ever brave his mighty arm? Is there a creature on the earth That dares to work our hero harm? "The lion and the grisly bear Cower when they see his royal look, Sun-staring eagles of the air His glance of anger cannot brook, Pythons and cobras at his tread To their most secret coverts glide, Bowed to the dust each serpent head Erect before in hooded pride. "Rakshases, Danavs, demons, ghosts, Acknowledge in their hearts his might, And slink to their remotest coasts, In terror at his very sight. Evil to him! Oh fear it not, Whatever foes against him rise! Banish for aye, the foolish thought, And be thyself,—bold, great, and wise. "He call for help! Canst thou believe He like a child would shriek for aid Or pray for respite or reprieve— Not of such metal is he made! Delusive was that piercing cry,— Some trick of magic by the foe; He has a work,—he cannot die, Beseech me not from hence to go. "For here beside thee, as a guard 'Twas he commanded me to stay, And dangers with my life to ward If they should come across thy way. Send me not hence, for in this wood Bands scattered of the giants lurk, Who on their wrongs and vengeance brood, And wait the hour their will to work." "Oh shame! And canst thou make my weal A plea for lingering! Now I know What thou art Lakshman! And I feel Far better were an open foe. Art thou a coward? I have seen Thy bearing in the battle-fray Where flew the death-fraught arrows keen, Else had I judged thee so to-day. "But then thy leader stood beside! Dazzles the cloud when shines the sun, Reft of his radiance, see it glide A shapeless mass of vapours dun; So of thy courage,—or if not, The matter is far darker dyed, What makes thee loth to leave this spot? Is there a motive thou wouldst hide? "He perishes—well, let him die! His wife henceforth shall be mine own! Can that thought deep imbedded lie Within thy heart's most secret zone! Search well and see! one brother takes His kingdom,—one would take his wife! A fair partition!—But it makes Me shudder, and abhor my life. "Art thou in secret league with those Who from his hope the kingdom rent? A spy from his ignoble foes To track him in his banishment? And wouldst thou at his death rejoice? I know thou wouldst, or sure ere now When first thou heardst that well-known voice Thou shouldst have run to aid, I trow. "Learn this,—whatever comes may come, But I shall not survive my Love,— Of all my thoughts here is the sum! Witness it gods in heaven above. If fire can burn, or water drown, I follow him:—choose what thou wilt, Truth with its everlasting crown, Or falsehood, treachery, and guilt. "Remain here, with a vain pretence Of shielding me from wrong and shame, Or go and die in his defence And leave behind a noble name. Choose what thou wilt,—I urge no more, My pathway lies before me clear, I did not know thy mind before, I know thee now,—and have no fear." She said and proudly from him turned,— Was this the gentle SÎta? No. Flames from her eyes shot forth and burned, The tears therein had ceased to flow. "Hear me, O Queen, ere I depart, No longer can I bear thy words, They lacerate my inmost heart And torture me, like poisoned swords. "Have I deserved this at thine hand? Of lifelong loyalty and truth Is this the meed? I understand Thy feelings, SÎta, and in sooth I blame thee not,—but thou mightst be Less rash in judgement. Look! I go, Little I care what comes to me |
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