Or like a holy sage whose heedless lips
Have spoken falsely. Rama's tender breast
Knew for a while the moon-drawn sea's unrest;
And, pierced with sorrow for his father's sake,
To queen Kaikeyi, reverent, he spake :
"Tell me my fault, or plead for me and win His pardon, angered by my careless sin. Why is my father, whom I ever find
Most full of love, so silent and unkind?
To what sharp anguish or what care a prey
Weeps he and sighs and turns his face away?
Say, has some grievous woe, some deadly ill,
Stricken his sons, or consorts dearer still?
Better to die than grieve a loving sire:
Death has no terror like a father's ire.
Surely the source to which he owes his birth
Must to a son be as a God on earth.
Then speak, O lady, speak, that I may know
What sudden grief has changed my father so."
Thus Rama questioned; and the greedy dame Gave her bold answer, lost to ruth and shame:
"No fault of thine thy father's soul offends;
No deadly stroke upon his house descends.
One wish he fosters, to his heart most dear;
And he would tell thee, but he shrinks in fear.
Thou art so fondly loved, no voice has he
To utter aught but pleasant words to thee.
Then hear his wish, and, as a duteous son,
Look that thy father's will be quickly done.
He, though a king, with most unkingly mind
Like a mean caitiff of the lowest kind,
Would stint the honour and the boon deny
He sware to grant me in the days gone by..
Faith, holy faith, whence all our duties spring,
Should ne'er be slighted by our lord the king.
Not e'en in anger, not for thy dear sake,
May he his oath and plighted promise break.
He will not say what promised boon I seek;
Before thy face he will not, dare not, speak.
Do thou but swear his promise shall not fall
Lost to the ground, and I will tell thee all."
She ceased. Then Rama, with a troubled breast,
These words in answer to the
“Thou needst not utter words like these to me:
To do his will my highest joy must be.
To feed the flames my body I will throw ;
Drink deadly poison, if his will be so ;
Plunge in the tide if he would have it done,
My sire, my master, and my king in one.
Then speak, O lady; with no doubting heart
The secret longing of my sire impart.
I swear obedience: let my word suffice,
For 'tis not Rama's wont to promise twice."
Then spoke Kaikeyi to the noble youth,
Undaunted champion of the rights of truth :
"When the Gods, aided by thy father's might,
Waged with the fiends, of yore, their furious fight,
Wounded by many a dart the monarch fell,
And I preserved the life I loved so well.
Restored by me to health and strength, he sware
To grant two boons, the guerdon of my care,
And these, at length, I crave this day may be
The throne for Bharat and the woods for thee.
Now if his honour in thine eyes be dear,
Keep his fair fame from stain of falsehood clear.
Go to the distant wilderness, and wear
The hermit's mantle and the matted hair.
Nine years and five in the wild forest stay,
That Bharat may be lord, ordained to-day;
And then this land, rich in each precious thing,
Steed, car, and elephant, shall hail him King.
Moved with great pity for thy mournful case,
Thy father cannot look upon thy face.
Come, noble prince, his darling honour save,
And, firm in faith, observe the oath he gave."
The hero answered, tranquil and sedate,
That cruel speech, fell as the doom of fate:
Fear not, O lady, but thy wish obtain :
My father's faith shall ne'er be pledged in vain. With hermit's mantle and with matted hair
Forth to the woods, an exile, will I fare.
One thing alone, O queen, I fain would learn,
Why is my lord the king to-day so stern?
Why is he now so silent and so cold,
Without one smile to greet me, as of old?
My greatest joy is ever to fulfil
My king, my master, and my father's will;
One only care torments my anxious breast,
Why his own lips have not his will exprest ;
Why could he not himself to me make known
His choice of Bharat for the royal throne.
To Bharat's hand I gladly would resign
My bride, my life, my gold and all that's mine.
Unaskt, most freely would I give him all :
How much more gladly at my father's call!
How much more gladly when the gift may free
His fame from blemish and give joy to thee!
Let swiftest heralds, ordered by the king,
Home from thy brother's house thy Bharat bring.
To judge my father's words I will not stay,
But seek the forest ere the close of day;
There live, a banisht man, four years and ten,
Keeping the promise of the king of men."
""Tis well," she answered. "Let the herald speed,
Carried by coursers of the fleetest breed,
And bring my Bharat home. Methinks that thou
Wilt brook no tarrying nor linger now.
And if the king, o'erwhelmed with shame, could find
No tongue to tell thee, bear not this in mind.
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