Valmiki Ramayana 3.60.22

3.60.22

evaṃ sa ruṣito rāmo didhakṣann iva cakṣuṣā
dadarśa bhūmau niṣkrāntaṃ rākṣasasya padaṃ mahat

Whence flashed afar each wild cascade:
'O best of mountains, hast thou seen
A dome of perfect form and mien
In some sweet spot with trees o'ergrown,-
My darling whom I left alone?'
Then as a lion threats a deer
He thundered with a voice of fear:
'Reveal her, mountain, to my view
With golden limbs and golden hue.
Where is my darling Sítá? speak
Before I rend thee peak from peak.'
The mountain seemed her track to show,
But told not all he sought to know.
Then Das'aratha's son renewed
His summons as the mount he viewed:
'Soon as my flaming arrows fly,
Consumed to ashes shall thou lie
Without a herb or bud or tree,
And birds no more shall dwell in thee.
And if this stream my prayer deny,
My wrath this day her flood shall dry,
Because she lends no aid to trace
My darling of the lotus face.'
Thus Ráma spake as though his ire
Would scorch them with his glance of fire;
Then searching farther on the ground
The footprint of a fiend he found,
And small light traces here and there,
Where Sítá in her great despair,
Shrieking for Ráma's help, had fled
Before the giant's mighty tread.
His careful eye each trace surveyed
Which Sítá and the fiend had made,--
The quivers and the broken bow
And ruined chariot of the foe,--
And told, distraught by fear and grief,
His tidings to his brother chief:
'O Lakshman, here,' he cried 'behold
My Sítá's earrings dropped with gold.
Here lie her garlands torn and rent,
Here lies each glittering ornament.
O look, the ground on every side