Valmiki Ramayana 3.45

3.45.1

rāvaṇena tu vaidehī tadā pṛṣṭā jihīrṣuṇā
parivrājakarūpeṇa śaśaṃsātmānam ātmanā

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.2

brāhmaṇaś cātithiś caiṣa anukto hi śapeta mām
iti dhyātvā muhūrtaṃ tu sītā vacanam abravīt

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.3

duhitā janakasyāhaṃ maithilasya mahātmanaḥ
sītā nāmnāsmi bhadraṃ te rāmabhāryā dvijottama

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.4

saṃvatsaraṃ cādhyuṣitā rāghavasya niveśane
bhuñjānā mānuṣān bhogān sarvakāmasamṛddhinī

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.5

tataḥ saṃvatsarād ūrdhvaṃ samamanyata me patim
abhiṣecayituṃ rāmaṃ sameto rājamantribhiḥ

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.6

tasmin saṃbhriyamāṇe tu rāghavasyābhiṣecane
kaikeyī nāma bhartāraṃ mamāryā yācate varam

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.7

pratigṛhya tu kaikeyī śvaśuraṃ sukṛtena me
mama pravrājanaṃ bhartur bharatasyābhiṣecanam
dvāv ayācata bhartāraṃ satyasaṃdhaṃ nṛpottamam

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.8

nādya bhokṣye na ca svapsye na pāsye 'haṃ kadā cana
eṣa me jīvitasyānto rāmo yady abhiṣicyate

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.9

iti bruvāṇāṃ kaikeyīṃ śvaśuro me sa mānadaḥ
ayācatārthair anvarthair na ca yācñāṃ cakāra sā

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

3.45.10

mama bhartā mahātejā vayasā pañcaviṃśakaḥ
rāmeti prathito loke guṇavān satyavāk śuciḥ
viśālākṣo mahābāhuḥ sarvabhūtahite rataḥ

As, clad in mendicant's disguise,
He questioned thus his destined prize,
She to the seeming saintly man
The story of her life began.
'My guest is he,' she thought, 'and I,
To 'scape his curse, must needs reply:'
'Child of a noble sire I spring
From Janak, fair Videha's king.
May every good be thine! my name
Is Sítá, Ráma's cherished dame.
Twelve winters with my lord I spent
Most happily with sweet content
In the rich home of Raghu's line,
And every earthly joy was mine.
Twelve pleasant years flew by, and then
His peers advised the king of men,
Ráma, my lord, to consecrate
Joint ruler of his ancient state.
But when the rites were scarce begun,
To consecrate Ikshváku's son,
The queen Kaikeyí, honoured dame,
Sought of her lord an ancient claim.
Her plea of former service pressed,
And made him grant her new request,
To banish Ráma to the wild
And consecrate instead her child.
This double prayer on him, the best
And truest king, she strongly pressed
'Mine eyes in sleep I will not close,
Nor eat, nor drink, nor take repose.
This very day my death shall bring
If Ráma be anointed king.'
As thus she spake in envious ire,
The aged king, my husband's sire,
Besought with fitting words, but she
Was cold and deaf to every plea.
As yet my days are few; eighteen
The years of life that I have seen;
And Ráma, best of all alive,
Has passed of years a score and five-
Ráma the great and gentle, through
All region famed as pure and true,
Large-eyed and mighty-armed and tall.

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.11

abhiṣekāya tu pituḥ samīpaṃ rāmam āgatam
kaikeyī mama bhartāram ity uvāca drutaṃ vacaḥ

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.12

tava pitrā samājñaptaṃ mamedaṃ śṛṇu rāghava
bharatāya pradātavyam idaṃ rājyam akaṇṭakam

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.13

tvayā tu khalu vastavyaṃ nava varṣāṇi pañca ca
vane pravraja kākutstha pitaraṃ mocayānṛtāt

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.14

tathety uvāca tāṃ rāmaḥ kaikeyīm akutobhayaḥ
cakāra tad vacas tasyā mama bhartā dṛḍhavrataḥ

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.15

dadyān na pratigṛhṇīyāt satyabrūyān na cānṛtam
etad brāhmaṇa rāmasya vrataṃ dhruvam anuttamam

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.16

tasya bhrātā tu vaimātro lakṣmaṇo nāma vīryavān
rāmasya puruṣavyāghraḥ sahāyaḥ samare 'rihā

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.17

sa bhrātā lakṣmaṇo nāma dharmacārī dṛḍhavrataḥ
anvagacchad dhanuṣpāṇiḥ pravrajantaṃ mayā saha

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.18

te vayaṃ pracyutā rājyāt kaileyyās tu kṛte trayaḥ
vicarāma dvijaśreṣṭha vanaṃ gambhīram ojasā

With tender heart that cares for all.
But Das'aratha, led astray
By woman's wile and passion's sway,
By his strong love of her impelled,
The consecrating rites withheld.
When, hopeful of the promised grace,
My Ráma sought his father's face,
The queen Kaikeyí, ill at ease,
Spoke to my lord brief words like these:
'Hear, son of Raghu, hear from me
The words thy father says to thee:
'I yield this day to Bharat's hand,
Free from all foes, this ancient land.
Fly from this home no longer thine,
And dwell in woods five years and nine.
Live in the forest and maintain
Mine honour pure from falsehood's stain.'
Then Ráma spoke, untouched by dread;
'Yea, it shall be as thou hast said '.
And answered, faithful to his vows,
Obeying Das'aratha's spouse:
'The offered realm I would not take,
But still keep true the words he spake.'
Thus, gentle Bráhman, Ráma still
Clung to his vow with firmest will.
And valiant Lakshman, dear to fame,
His brother by a younger dame,
Bold victor in the deadly fray,
Would follow Ráma on his way.
On sternest vows his heart was set,
And he, a youthful anchoret,
Bound up in twisted coil his hair
And took the garb which hermits wear;
Then with his bow to guard us, he
Went forth with Ráma and with me.
By Queen Kaikeyí's art bereft
The kingdom and our home we left,
And bound by stern religious vows
We sought this shade of forest boughs.
Now, best of Bráhmans, here we tread
These pathless regions dark and dread.
But come, refresh thy soul, and rest

3.45.19

samāśvasa muhūrtaṃ tu śakyaṃ vastum iha tvayā
āgamiṣyati me bhartā vanyam ādāya puṣkalam

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.20

sa tvaṃ nāma ca gotraṃ ca kulam ācakṣva tattvataḥ
ekaś ca daṇḍakāraṇye kimarthaṃ carasi dvija

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.21

evaṃ bruvatyāṃ sītāyāṃ rāmapatnyāṃ mahābalaḥ
pratyuvācottaraṃ tīvraṃ rāvaṇo rākṣasādhipaḥ

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.22

yena vitrāsitā lokāḥ sadevāsurapannagāḥ
ahaṃ sa rāvaṇo nāma sīte rakṣogaṇeśvaraḥ

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.23

tvāṃ tu kāñcanavarṇābhāṃ dṛṣṭvā kauśeyavāsinīm
ratiṃ svakeṣu dāreṣu nādhigacchāmy anindite

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.24

bahvīnām uttamastrīṇām āhṛtānām itas tataḥ
sarvāsām eva bhadraṃ te mamāgramahiṣī bhava

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.25

laṅkā nāma samudrasya madhye mama mahāpurī
sāgareṇa parikṣiptā niviṣṭā girimūrdhani

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.26

tatra sīte mayā sārdhaṃ vaneṣu vicariṣyasi
na cāsyāraṇyavāsasya spṛhayiṣyasi bhāmini

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.27

pañcadāsyaḥ sahasrāṇi sarvābharaṇabhūṣitāḥ
sīte paricariṣyanti bhāryā bhavasi me yadi

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.28

rāvaṇenaivam uktā tu kupitā janakātmajā
pratyuvācānavadyāṅgī tam anādṛtya rākṣasaṃ

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.29

mahāgirim ivākampyaṃ mahendrasadṛśaṃ patim
mahodadhim ivākṣobhyam ahaṃ rāmam anuvratā

Here for a while an honoured guest.
For he, my lord, will soon be here
With fresh supply of woodland cheer,
Large store of venison of the buck,
Or some great boar his hand has struck.
Meanwhile, O stranger, grant my prayer:
Thy name, thy race, thy birth declare,
And why with no companion thou
Roamest in Dandak forest now.'
Thus questioned Sítá, Ráma's dame.
Then fierce the stranger's answer came:
'Lord of the giant legions, he
From whom celestial armies flee,--
The dread of hell and earth and sky,
Rávan the Rákshas king am I.
Now when thy gold-like form I view
Arrayed in silks of amber hue,
My love, O thou of perfect mould,
For all my dames is dead and cold.
A thousand fairest women, torn
From many a land my home adorn.
But come, loveliest lady, be
The queen of every dame and me.
My city Lanká, glorious town,
Looks from a mountain's forehead down
Where ocean with his flash and foam
Beats madly on mine island home.
With me, O Sítá, shalt thou rove
Delighted through each shady grove,
Nor shall thy happy breast retain
Fond memory of this life of pain.
In gay attire, a glittering band*,
Five thousand maids shall round thee stand,
And serve thee at thy beck and sign,
If thou, fair Sítá, wilt be mine.'
Then forth her noble passion broke
As thus in turn the lady spoke:
'Me, me the wife of Ráma, him
The lion lord with lion's limb,
Strong as the sea, firm as the rock,
Like Indra in the battle shook.
Tue lord of each auspicious sign,
The glory of his princely line,

3.45.30

mahābāhuṃ mahoraskaṃ siṃhavikrāntagāminam
nṛsiṃhaṃ siṃhasaṃkāśam ahaṃ rāmam anuvratā

Like some fair Bodh tree strong and tall,
The noblest and the best of all,
Ráma, the heir of happy fate
Who keeps his word inviolate,
Lord of the lion gait, possessed
Of mighty arm and ample chest,
Rama the lion-warrior, him
Whose moon bright face no fear can dim,
Ráma, his bridled passions' lord,
The darling whom his sire adored,--
Me, me the true and loving dame
Of Ráma, prince of deathless fame--
Me wouldst, thou vainly woo and press?
A jackal woo a lioness!
Steal from the sun his glory! such
Thy hope Lord Ráma's wife to touch.
Ha! Thou hast seen the trees of gold,
The sign which dying eyes behold,
Thus seeking, weary of thy life,
To win the love of Ráma's wife.
Fool! wilt thou dare to rend away
The famished lion's bleeding prey,
Or from the threatening jaws to take
The fang of some envenomed snake?
What, wouldst thou shake with puny hand
Mount Mandar, towering o'er the laud,
Put poison to thy lips and think
The deadly cup a harmless drink?
With pointed needle touch thine eye,
A razor to thy tongue apply,
Who wouldst pollute with impious touch
The wife whom Ráma loves so much?
Be round thy neck a millstone tied,
And swim the sea from side to side;
Or raising both thy hands on high
Pluck sun and moon from yonder sky;
Or let the kindled flame be pressed,
Wrapt in thy garment, to thy breast;

3.45.31

pūrṇacandrānanaṃ vīraṃ rājavatsaṃ jitendriyam
pṛthukīrtiṃ mahābāhum ahaṃ rāmam anuvratā

Like some fair Bodh tree strong and tall,
The noblest and the best of all,
Ráma, the heir of happy fate
Who keeps his word inviolate,
Lord of the lion gait, possessed
Of mighty arm and ample chest,
Rama the lion-warrior, him
Whose moon bright face no fear can dim,
Ráma, his bridled passions' lord,
The darling whom his sire adored,--
Me, me the true and loving dame
Of Ráma, prince of deathless fame--
Me wouldst, thou vainly woo and press?
A jackal woo a lioness!
Steal from the sun his glory! such
Thy hope Lord Ráma's wife to touch.
Ha! Thou hast seen the trees of gold,
The sign which dying eyes behold,
Thus seeking, weary of thy life,
To win the love of Ráma's wife.
Fool! wilt thou dare to rend away
The famished lion's bleeding prey,
Or from the threatening jaws to take
The fang of some envenomed snake?
What, wouldst thou shake with puny hand
Mount Mandar, towering o'er the laud,
Put poison to thy lips and think
The deadly cup a harmless drink?
With pointed needle touch thine eye,
A razor to thy tongue apply,
Who wouldst pollute with impious touch
The wife whom Ráma loves so much?
Be round thy neck a millstone tied,
And swim the sea from side to side;
Or raising both thy hands on high
Pluck sun and moon from yonder sky;
Or let the kindled flame be pressed,
Wrapt in thy garment, to thy breast;

3.45.32

tvaṃ punar jambukaḥ siṃhīṃ mām ihecchasi durlabhām
nāhaṃ śakyā tvayā spraṣṭum ādityasya prabhā yathā

Like some fair Bodh tree strong and tall,
The noblest and the best of all,
Ráma, the heir of happy fate
Who keeps his word inviolate,
Lord of the lion gait, possessed
Of mighty arm and ample chest,
Rama the lion-warrior, him
Whose moon bright face no fear can dim,
Ráma, his bridled passions' lord,
The darling whom his sire adored,--
Me, me the true and loving dame
Of Ráma, prince of deathless fame--
Me wouldst, thou vainly woo and press?
A jackal woo a lioness!
Steal from the sun his glory! such
Thy hope Lord Ráma's wife to touch.
Ha! Thou hast seen the trees of gold,
The sign which dying eyes behold,
Thus seeking, weary of thy life,
To win the love of Ráma's wife.
Fool! wilt thou dare to rend away
The famished lion's bleeding prey,
Or from the threatening jaws to take
The fang of some envenomed snake?
What, wouldst thou shake with puny hand
Mount Mandar, towering o'er the laud,
Put poison to thy lips and think
The deadly cup a harmless drink?
With pointed needle touch thine eye,
A razor to thy tongue apply,
Who wouldst pollute with impious touch
The wife whom Ráma loves so much?
Be round thy neck a millstone tied,
And swim the sea from side to side;
Or raising both thy hands on high
Pluck sun and moon from yonder sky;
Or let the kindled flame be pressed,
Wrapt in thy garment, to thy breast;