Valmiki Ramayana 3.43.22

3.43.22

suduṣṭas tvaṃ vane rāmam ekam eko 'nugacchasi
mama hetoḥ praticchannaḥ prayukto bharatena vā

A precious pledge art thou, consigned
To me by him of noblest mind,
Nor can I fairest dame, forsake
The pledge which Ráma bade me take.
Upon our heads, O Queen, we drew
The giants' hate when Ráma slew
Their chieftain Khara, and the shade
Of Janasthán in ruin laid.
Through all this mighty wood they rove
With varied cries from grove to grove
On * bent they wander here.
But O dismiss thy causeless fear.'
Bright flashed her eye as Lashman spoke
And forth her words of fury broke
Upon her truthful guardian, flung
With bitter taunts that pierced and stung;
'Shame on such false compassion, base
* of thy glorious race!
* joyous sight I ween to thee
My lord in direst strait to see.
Thou knowest Ráma sore bested,
Or word like this thou ne'er hadst said.
No marvel if we find such sin
In rivals false to kith and kin.
Wretches like thee of evil kind,
Concealing crime with crafty mind.
Thou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny,
And leave my lord alone to die.
Has love of me unnerved thy hand,
Or Bharat's art this ruin planned?
But be the treachery his or thine,
In vain, in vain the base design.
For how shall I, the chosen bride
Of dark-hued Ráma, lotus-eyed,
The queen who once called Ráma mine,
To love of other men decline?
Believe me, Lakshman, Ráma's wife
Before thine eyes will quit this life,
And not a moment will she stay
If her dear lord have passed away.'
The lady's bitter speech, that stirred
Each hair upon his frame, he heard.
With lifted hands together laid,