Ah no! my death is not allowed by fate,

Nor opes for me the Gloomy King his gate:

He will not take me to his home away,

A lion pitying his weeping prey.

Death will not listen to a wretch's cry,

Nor take his soul ere fate would have him die,

Or I, bereaved of my son, had fled

To Yama's' home, and been among the dead.
Why should I live without thee? I will go
After thee, Rama, though my steps be slow,
As a poor cow, in her great love, will run
Watching the wanderings of her little one."

While sad Kausalya wept and groaned and sighed, Thus, moved with righteous anger, Lakshman cried: "O venerable queen, I like it not

That Rama, victim of a woman's plot,

Should fly an exile to the woods, and leave

The land to languish and his friends to grieve.
The king, luxurious, doting, old, and weak,
Will bear her voice and, as she orders, speak.

'The Indian Pluto.

But why should Rama, pure of sin and stain,

Flee from his kingdom to a life of pain?
What man could ever, deaf to duty's call,
Forsake his godlike son beloved of all?
What son, that father's senseless will, obey,

In second childhood 'neath a woman's sway?
Come, Rama, come, and, ere this plot be known,
Accept my succour and secure the throne.
Before thy face what foe will dare to stand

When thou art guarded by my good right hand?

Nay, like the grisly Monarch of the Dead,

Thine eye alone will strike the bold with dread.
Or, if thou wilt, mine arrows and my bow
Shall lay all dwellers in Ayodhya low :

So shall the foemen find mine arm is strong;

The patient ever are the prey of wrong.

Nay, were it not that queen Kaikeyi's art
Has swayed our father and destroyed his heart,
My voice should now his ruthless hate arraign,
And cry, The monarch shall be slain, be slain.
Queen, by this bow and by my faith I swear,
To thy dear Rama such the love I bear,

Come life come death, our path shall be the same

To the wild forest or the deadly flame.

Come, try my love, and let me prove my might

Before thy presence and in Rama's sight:

Before my power thy woe shall flee away,

As the night flees before the morning ray."

"O Rama, hear him," thus, with streaming eyes,

Cried sad Kausalya, "for his words are wise.

Wilt thou, obedient to my rival's will,

Please her who hates thee, and thy mother kill?

If love and honour to thy sire be due,

Hast thou no honour for thy mother too?

My life were woe without thee, but how sweet,

With thee, dear son, though grass were all my meat !
But if no prayers thy firm resolve can bend,

I fly to death, my hopeless woe to end;
And thou, thy mother's murderer, wilt bear
The punishment of Hell and torment there."

"Forgive me, mother," thus the hero spake. "I have no power my sire's command to break.

See, at thy honoured feet I bend me low :
Once more forgive me, for I needs must go.
Not I the first this path of duty tread,

Of yore 'twas trodden by the mighty dead.

Now let me hear, dear queen, thy kind farewell;

But if I go in distant wilds to dwell,

'Tis not for ever, mother, that I leave

My home and thee. Again thou shalt receive
Thy son with rapture, all his exile o'er ;

Then be thou comforted and grieve no more."
"If thou wilt listen to no prayers of mine,

Go forth," she cried, "thou best of Raghu's line!
Go forth, my darling, and return with speed,
And tread the path where noble spirits lead.
May Virtue ever on thy steps attend,

And thee, her lover, from all woe defend.
May all the Gods to whom thy vows are paid,
And all the mighty saints afford their aid.
The heavenly arms, that Viswamitra' gave,
Thy precious life in hours of danger save!
Thy filial love and meek obedience arm

A saint, the friend and preceptor of Rama.

Thy soul, my Rama, like a mystic charm!

May every shrine where sacred grass is spread,
And every altar where the flame is fed,

Lake and wild mountain, bush and towering tree,

Give ready succour, O my son, to thee.

May Vishnu, Brahma, and the Sun befriend,

And all the powers their high protection lend.

The years, the seasons, months, and nights and days,

And hours, watch over thee in all thy ways!
Eternal Scripture and the Law revealed

To ancient sages be thy trusty shield!

The War-God aid thee, and the Moon on high,

And wise Brihaspati be ever nigh.

Thy help be Narad' and the sainted Seven,

And the great limitary lords of heaven!

2

Yea, these shall guard thee, when their praise I sing,

The hills, the waters, and the waters' king.

The sky and ether, earth' and wandering air,

Protect thee ever with their fostering care!
Each lunar mansion be for thee benign:

1 A son of Brahma.

2 Eight Gods, Regents of the four quarters and intermediate points of the compass.