FAREWELL! Rama, his wife, and brother walk through the streets crowded with mourning citizens to the palace of Dasaratha. They bid the King farewell and then leave Ayodhya amid the tears and lamentations of the people. Their gold and gems among the Brahmans shared, For the last time the aged King to see, 'Ah! look, our hero, ever wont to ride, Leading an army in its pomp and pride, F Now only Lakshman, faithful to the end, And his true wife, his weary steps attend. Though his bright soul has known the sweets of power, He keeps the promise that his father gave. How will it change beneath the sun and storm! Let us arise, our wives and children call, And leave our fields and gardens, homes and all. Groves, where no children sport in thoughtless glee, Nor elders sit beneath the mango-tree : The falling shop, with none to buy or sell, The pond choked up with weeds, the broken well : Neglected temples, whence the Gods have fled, O'errun with rats, with dust and dirt o'erspread; No hum of worship, and no Brahman's prayer : Our town shall be a wilderness: where he, The snake shall leave his hole, the bear his den, And settle in the empty homes of men.' Such were the words of sorrow that the throng And his hard fate in faithful love bewailed; Yet not for this his lofty spirit failed. On to the palace of the King he prest, And thus Sumantra at the gate addrest: 'I pray thee, haste and let my father know He lingered not, but hastened where the King, Changed, like the sun behind a misty cloud; Like the quencht flame which dust and ashes shroud; Like a broad lake with its sweet waters dried. With a slow faltering voice Sumantra cried : 'Long be thy days, O King! Thy Rama waits, His weeping friends his last farewell have heard, And take a blessing, ere he go, of thee.' 'Haste,' cried the King, 'my queens and ladies call, And bid my servants throng into the hall.' Quick at the Monarch's word he called each dame, Came toward the hall, with anxious ladies lined, And gentle Sita meekly came behind. But the old King, ere Rama yet was nigh, And with her healing care restored him: then 6 'O father, thou both sire and sovereign art: Bless me, I pray thee, for to-day we part. Lakshman and Sita will not here remain: Counsel is useless and entreaty vain. |