Faithful and pious, reverent, sincere, And at thy bidding how can I consent O wife, have mercy! hear my bitter cry, A poor old weeping man whose death is nigh. This sea-girt land has treasures rich and rare: Once more, O queen, my suppliant hands entreat; O save my Rama, save my dearest child, Nor let me die a wretch dishonoured and defiled." No thrill of pity through her bosom ran, As thus again the cruel queen began: "If thou hast promised and art now forsworn, How wilt thou keep thine ancient name from scorn? When gathered kings thy truth and honour praise, How wilt thou bear thine abject eyes to raise Then will they scorn the king once counted just, And fed the hawk, a suppliant dove to save: And gained rich guerdon in the blissful skies. And tremble now thy promised word to break. But be it truth or falsehood, right or wrong, 1 A just and truthful king, who being, unwilling to deprive a hawk of his prey or to betray the dove to which he had promised protection, gave his own flesh to the hawk who would accept nothing else instead. The story is told in the Mahabharata, in different ways, of more than one king, Make Rama Regent, and before thine eyes And hail her lady with the suppliant hand. I claim thine oath and Rama's banishment." THE STEP-MOTHER. The night "long and dreary as a hundred years" which the unhappy king has spent in lamentation and entreaties to the inexorable Kaikeyi is past, and the morning appointed for the consecration of Rama is come. Rama having been summoned enters the chamber where the king and Kaikeyi are. Weighed down by woe, with wild despairing mien, There sate the monarch with the cruel queen. Then Rama bowed, his royal sire to greet, And did obeisance at Kaikeyi's feet. The king with downcast eyes still brimming o'er, As though his heedless foot had toucht a snake. Now a poor mourner, weak and wan with woe: Weeping and groaning, mad with wildering thought, G |