Valmiki Ramayana 2.58.19

2.58.19

yady etad aśubhaṃ karma na sma me kathayeḥ svayam
phalen mūrdhā sma te rājan sadyaḥ śatasahasradhā

As the sad tale of sin I told
The hermit's grief was uncontrolled.
With flooded eyes, and sorrow-faint,
Thus spake the venerable saint:
I stood with hand to hand applied,
And listened as he spoke and sighed:
'If thou, O King, hadst left unsaid
By thine own tongue this tale of dread,
Thy head for hideous guilt accursed
Had in a thousand pieces burst.
A hermits blood by warrior spilt,
In such a case, with purposed guilt,
Down from his high estate would bring
Even the thunder's mighty King
And he a dart who (illegible) sends
Against the devotee who spends
His pure life by the law of heaven--
That sinner's head will split in seven.
Thou livest, for thy heedless hand
Has wrought a deed thou hast not planned,
Else thou and all of Raghu's line
Had perished by this act of thine.
Now guide us,' thus the hermit said,
'Forth to the spot where he lies dead.
Guide us, this day, O Monarch, we
For the last time our son would see:
The hermit dress of skin he wore
Rent from his limbs distained with gore;
His senseless body lying slain,
His soul in Yama's dark domain.'