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'I Ráma's wife, on that sad day.
By Rávan's arm was borne away,
Seized, while I sat and feared no ill,
By him who wears each form at will,
A helpless captive, left forlorn
To demons' threats and taunts and scorn,
Here for my lord I weep and sigh,
And worn with woe would gladly die.
For what is life to me afar
From Ráma of the mighty car?
The robber in his fruitless sin
Would hope his captives love to win.
My meaner foot shall never touch
The demon whom I loathe so much.
The senseless fool! he knows me not,
Nor the proud soul his love would blot.

Yea, limb from limb will I be rent,
But never to his prayer consent;
Be burnt and perish in the fire,
But never meet his base desire.
My lord was grateful, true and wise,
And looked on woe with piting eyes;
But now, recoiling from the strife
He pities not his captive wife.
Alone in Janasthán he slew
The thousands of the Rákshas crew.
His arm was strong, his heart was brave,
Why comes he not to free and save?
Why blame my lord in vain surmise
He knows not where his lady lies.
O, if he knew, o'er land and sea
His feet were swift to set me free;
This Lanká, girdled by the deep.
Would fall consumed, a shapeless heap,
And from each ruined home would rise
A Rákshas widow's groans and cries.'


410:1 The mother of Ráma.

410:2 The mother of Lakshman.

Next: Canto XXVII.: Trijatá's Dream.