He stood unmoved, and watched intent Until the king should grant consent. Upon his son his eyes he cast, And thus the monarch spake at last: ' 0 Rama, by her arts enslaved, I gave the boons Kaikeyi craved, Unfit to reign, by her misled: Be ruler in thy father's stead.'
Thus by the lord of men addressed, Rama, of virtue's friends the best, In lore of language duly learned, His answer, reverent, thus returned: ' A thousand years, O King, remain O'er this our city still to reign. I in the woods my life will lead: The lust of rule no more I heed. Nine years and five I there will spend, And when the portioned days shall end, Will come, my vows and exile o'er, And clasp thy feet, my King, once more.'
A captive in the snare of truth, Weeping, distressed with woe and ruth, Thus spake the monarch, while the queen Kaikeyi urged him on unseen: ' Go then, O Rama, and begin Thy course unvext by fear and sin: Go, my beloved son, and earn Success, and joy, and safe return. So fast the bonds of duty bind, 0 Raghu's son, thy truthful mind, That naught can turn thee back, or guide Thy will so strongly fortified, But O, a little longer stay, Nor turn thy steps this night away, That I one little day — alas \ One only — with my son may pass.
Me and thy mother do not slight, But stay, my son, with rne to-night; With every dainty please thy taste, And seek to-morrow morn the waste, Hard is thy task. O Raghu's son, Dire is the toil thou wilt not shun, Far to the lonely wood to flee, And leave thy friends for love of me.
1 swear it by my truth, believe, For thee, my son, I deeply grieve, Misguided by the traitress dame With hidden guile like smouldering flame. Now, by her wicked counsel stirred. Thou fain wouldst keep my plighted word. No marvel that my eldest born Would hold me true when I have sworn.'
Then Rama having calmly heard His wretched father speak each word, With Lakshman standing by his side Thus, humbly, to the king replied: 'If dainties now my taste resale, To-morrow must those dainties fail. This day departure I prefer To all that wealth can minister. O'er this fair land, no longer mine, Which I, with all her realin*s, resign, THE RAMA TAN.
Boole II.
Her multitudes of men, her grain, Her stores of wealth, let Bharat reign.
And let the promised boon which thou Wast pleased to grant the queen ere now, Be hers in full. He true, O King, Kind giver of each precious thing.
Thy spoken word I still will heed, Obeying all thy lips decreed; And fourteen years in woods will dwell With those who live in glade and dell.
No hopes of power my heart can touch, No selfish joys attract so much As. son of Kaghu, to fulfil With heart and soul my father's will, Dismiss, dismiss thy needless woe, Nor let those drowning torrents flow: The Lord of Rivers in his pride Keeps to the banks that bar his tide.
Here in thy presence I declare; J'>y thy good deeds, thy truth, I swear; Nor lordship, joy, nor lands I prize; Life, heaven, all blessings I despise; I wish to see thee still remain Most true, O King, and free from stain.
It must not, Sire, it must not be: I cannot rest one hour with thee.
Then bring this sorrow to an end, For naught my settled will can bend.
I gave a pledge that binds me too, And to that pledge I still am true.
Kaikeyi bade me speed away: She prayed me, and I answered yea.
Pine not for me, and weep no more; The wood for us has joy in store, Filled with the wild deer's peaceful herds And voices of a thousand birds.
A father is the God of each, Yea, e'en of Gods, so Scriptures teach: And I will keep my sire's decree, For as a God I honour thee.
O best of men, the time is nigh, The fourteen years will soon pass by And to thine eyes thy son restore: Be comforted, and weep no more.
Thou with thy firmness shouldst support These weepingcrowds who throngthe court; Then why, O chief of high renown, So troubled, and thy soul cast down?'
CANTO XXXV.
KAIKEYI REPROACHED.
Wild with the rage he could not calm, Sumantra, grinding palm on palm, His head in quick impatience shook, And sighed with woe he could not brook. He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were red, From his changed face the colour fled. In rage and grief that kaew no law, The temper of the king he saw. With his word-arrows swift and keen He shook the bosom of the queen. With scorn, as though its lightning stroke Would blast her body, thus he spoke: ' Thou, who, of no dread sin afraid, Hast Dasaratha's self betrayed, Lord of the world, whose might sustain Each thing that moves or fixed remains, What direr crime is left thee now? Death to thy lord and house art thou, Whose cruel deeds the king distress, Mahendra's peer in mightiness, Firm as the mountain's rooted steep, Enduring as the Ocean's deep. Despise not Da'aratha, he Is a kind lord and friend to thee. A loving wife in worth outruns The mother of ten million sons. Kings, when their sires have passed away, Succeed by birthright to the sway. Ikshvaku's son still rules the state, Yet thou this rule wouldst violate. Yea, let thy son, Kaikeyi, rei^n, Let Bharat rule his sire's domain. Thy will, O Queen, shall none oppose: We all will go where Rama goes. No Brahman, scorning thee, will rest Within the realm thou governest, But all will fly indignant hence: So great thy trespass and offence. I marvel, when thy crime I see, Karth yawns not quick to swallow thee; And that the Brahman saints prepare No burning scourge thy soul to scare, With cries of shame to smite thee, bent Upon our Rama's banishment. The Mango tree with axes fell, And tend instead the Neem tree well, Still watered with all care the tree Will never sweet and pleasant be. Thy mother's faults to thee descend, Ancl with thy borrowed nature blend. True is the ancient saw: the Neem Can ne'er distil a honeyed stream. Taught by the tale of long ago Thy mother's hateful sin we know. A bounteous saint, as all have heard, A boon upon thy sire conferred, And all the eloquence revealed That fills the wood, the flood, the field. No creature walked, or swam, or flew, But he its varied language knew. One morn upon his couch he heard The chattering of a gorgeous bird, And as he marked its close intent He laughed aloud in merriment. Thy mother furious with her lord, And fain to perish by the cord, i Said to her husband: ' I would know, O Monarch, why thou laughest 80.'
Canto XXXVI.
THE RAM AY AN.
The king in answer spake again: ' If 1 this laughter should explain, This very hour would be my last, For death, be sure would follow fast/ Again thy mother, flushed with ire, To Kekaya spake, thy royal sire: 'Tell me the cause: then live or die: I will not brook thy laugh, not I.' Thus by his darling wife addressed, The king whose might all earth confessed, To that kind saint his story told Who gave the wondrous gift of old. He listened to the king's complaint, And thus in answer spoke the saint: ' King, let her quit thy home or die, But never with her prayer comply,' The saint's reply his trouble stilled, And all his heart with pleasure filled. Thy mother from his home he sent, And days like Lord Kuvera's spent. So thou wouldst force the king, misled By thee, in evil paths to tread, And bent on evil wouldst begin, Through folly, this career of sin. Most true, methinks, in thee is shown The ancient saw so widely known: The sons their fathers' worth declare And girls their mothers' nature share, bo be not thou. For pity's saKe Accept the word the monarch spake, Thy husband's will, O Queen, obey, And be the people's hope and stay, O, do not, urged by folly, draw The king to tread on duty's law, The lord who all the world sustains, Bright as the God o'er Gods who reigns. Our glorious king, by sin unstained, Will never grant what fraud obtained; No shade of fault in him is seen: Let Kama be anointed, Queen. Remember, Queen, undying shame Will through the world pursue thy name, If Rama leave the king his sire, And, banished, to the wood retire. Come, from thy breast this fever fling: Of his own realm be Rama king. None in this city e'er can dwell To tend and love thee half so well. When Rama sits in royal place, True to the custom of his race Our monarch of the mighty bow ;A hermit to the woods will go.'1 It was the custom of the kings of the solar dynasty to resign in their extreme old age the kingdom to the heir, and spend the remainder of their days in holy meditation in the forest: For such through ages in their life's decline [a the,good custom of Ikshvaku's line.'
Raghuvahsa.
Sumantra thus, palm joined to palm, Poured forth his words of bane and balm, With keen reproach, with pleading kind, Striving to move Kaikeyi's mind. In vain he prayed, in vain reproved, She heard unsoftened and unmoved. Nor could the eyes that watched her view One yielding look, one change of hue.
CANTO XXXVI.
SIDDHARTH'S SPEECH.
Ikshvaku's son with anguish torn For the great oath his lips had sworn, With tears and stghs of sharpest pain Thus to Sumantra spake again: ' Prepare thou quick a perfect force, Cars, elephants, and foot, and horse, To follow Raghu's scion hence Equipped with all magnificence. Let traders with the wealth they sell. And those who charming stories tell, And dancing- women fair of face, The prince's ample chariots grace. On all the train who throng his courts, And those who share his manly sports, Great gifts of precious wealth bestow, And bid them with their master go. Let noble arms, and many a wain, And townsmen swell the prince's train; And hunters best for woodland skill Their places in the concourse fill. While elephants and deer he slays, Drinking wood honey as he strays, And looks on streams ea?h fairer yet, His kingdom he may chance forget. Let all my gold and wealth of corn With Rama to the wilds be born; For it will soothe the exile's lot To sacrifice in each pure spot, Deal ample largess forth, and meet Each hermit in his calm retreat. The wealth shall Rama with him bear: Ayodhyd shall be Bharat's share.'
As thus Kakutstha's offspring spoke, Fear in Kaikeyi's breast awoke. The freshness of her face was dried, Her trembling tongue was terror-tied. Alarmed and sad, with bloodless cheek, She turned to him and scarce could speak: ' Nay, Sire, but Bharat shall not gain An empty realm where none remain. My Bharat shall not rule a waste Reft of all sweets to charm the taste — The wine-cup's dregs, all dull and dead, Whence the light foam and life are fled.1 Thus in her rage the long-eyed dame Spoke her dire speech untouched by shame.
THE RAM AY AN.
Boole II.
Then, answering, Dasaratha spoke: 'Why. having bowed me to the yoke, Dost thou, must cruel, spur and goad Me who am struggling with the load? Why didst thou not oppose at first This hope, vile Queen, so fondly nursed?'
Scarce could; the monarch's angry speech The ears of the fair lady reach. When thus, with double wrath inflamed, Kaikeyi to the king exclaimed: ' Sagar, from whom thy line is traced, Drove forth his eldest son disgraced, Called Asamanj, whose fate we know: Thus should thy son to exile go.'
1 Fie on thee, dame!' the monarch said; Each of her people bent his head, And stood in shame and sorrow mute: She marked not, bold and resolute. Then great Siddharth, inflamed with rage, The good old councillor and sage On whose wise rede the king relied, To Queen Kaikeyi thus replied: 4 But Asamanj the cruel laid His hands on'infants as they played, Cast them to Sarju's flood, and smiled For pleasure when he drowned a child.' l The people saw, and, furious, sped Straight the the king his sire and said: * Choose us, 0 glory of the throne, Choose us. or Asamanj alone.' 'Whence comes this dread?' the monarch oried; And all the people thus replied: * In folly, King, he loves to lay Fierce hands upon our babes at play, Casts them to Sarju's flood and joys To murder our bewildered boys.' With heedful ear the king of men Heard each complaining citizen.
To please their troubled minds he strove, Ana from the state his son he dro/e. With wife and gear upon a car He placedahim quick, and sent him far.
i See Book I., Canto XXXIX. An Indian prince in more modern times appears to have diverted himself in a similar way.
It is still reported in Belgaum that Appay Deasy was wont to amuse himself "by making several young^ and beautiful women stand side by side on a narrow balcony, without a parapet, overhanging the deep reservoir at the new palace in Kipani. He used then to pass along the line of trembling creatures, and suddenly thrusting one of them headlong into the water below, he used to watch her drown- ing, and derive pleasure from her dying agonies." — History of the Belgaum District Uy H. J. Stokes, M, S. C.
And thus he gave commandment, ' He Shall all his days an exile be.' With basket and with plough he strayed O'er mountain heights, through pathless shade, Roaming all lands a weary time, An outcast wretch defiled with crime. Sagar, the righteous path who held, His wicked offspring thus expelled. But what has Rama done to blame? Why should his sentence be the samef No sin his stainless name can dim; We see no fault at all in him. Pure as the moon, no darkening blot On his sweet life has left a spot. If th"U canst see one fault, e'en one, To dim the fame of Raghu's son, That fault this hour, O lady, show, And Rama to the wood shall go. To drive the guiltless to the wild, Truth's constant lover, undefined, Would, by defiance of the right, The glory e'en of Itidra blight. Then cease, O lady, and dismiss Thy hope to ruin "Rama's bliss, Or all thy gain, O fair of face, Will be men's hatred, and disgrace.'
CANTO XXXVII.
THE COATS OF BARK.
Thus spake the virtuous sage; and then Rama addressed the king of men. In laws of meek behaviour bred, Thus to his sire he meekly said: 4 King, I renounce all earthly care, And live in woods on woodland fare. What, dead to joys, have I to do With lordly train and retinue? Who gives his elephant and yet Upon the girths his heart will set? How can a cord attract his eyes Who gives away the nobler prize? Best of the good, with me be led No host, my King, with banners spread. All wealth, all lordship I resign: The hermit's dress alone be mine. Before I go, have here conveyed A little basket and a spade. With these alone I go, content, For fourteen years of banishment/ With her own hands Kaikeyi took The hermit coats of bark, and, ' Look,' She cried with bold unblushing brow Before the concourse, ' Dress thee now.' That lion leader of the brave Took from her hand the dress she gave, Cast his fine raiment on the ground, Canto XXX VIII.
THE RAMA? AN.
And roun<l his waist the vesture bound. Then quick the hero Lakshmaii too His garment from his shoulders threw, And, in the presence of his sire, Indued the ascetic's rough attire. But Sita, in her silks arrayed, Threw glances, trembling and afraid, On the bark coat she had to wear, Like a shy doe that eyes the snare. Ashamed and weeping for distress From the queen's hand she took the dress The fair one, by her husband's side Who matched heaven's minstrel monarch,1 cried: ' How bind they on their woodland dress, Those hermits of the wilderness? ' Therefstood the pride of Janak's race Perplexed, with sad appealing face. One coat the lady's fingers grasped, One round her neck she;sfeebly clasped, But failed again, again, confused By the wild garb she ne'er had used. Then quickly hastening Rama, pride Of all who cherish virtue, tied The rough bark mantle on her, o'er The silken raiment that she wore.
Then the sad women when they saw Kama the choice bark round her draw, Rained water from each tender eye, And cried aloud with bitter cry: ' O, not on her, beloved, not On Sita falls thy mournful lot. If, faithful to thy father's will, Thou must go forth, leave Sita still. Let Sita still remaining here Our hearts with her loved presence cheer. With Lakshman by thy side to aid Seek thou, dear son, the lonely shade. Unmeet, one good and fair as she Should dwell in woods a devotee. Let not our prayers be prayed in vain: Let beauteous Sita yet remain; For by thy love of duty tied Thou wilt not here thyself abide.' Then the king's venerable guide Vasishtha, when he saw each coat Enclose the lady's waist and throat, Her zeal with gentle words repressed, And Queen Kaikeyi thus addressed: * O evil-hearted sinner, shame Of royal Kekaya's race and name; Who matchless in thy sin couldst cheat Thy lord the king with vile deceit; Lost to ail sense of duty, know Sita to exile shall not go. Sita shall guard, as 'twere her own, The precious trust of Llama's throne.
1 Chitraratha, King of the celestial choristers.
Those joined by wedlock's sweet control Have but one self and common soul. Thus Sita shall our empress be, For Rama's self and soul is she. Or if she still to Rama cleave And for the woods the kingdom leave: If naught her loving heart deter, We and this town will follow her. The warders of the queen shall take Their wives and go for Rama s sake. The nation with its stores of grain, The city's wealth shall swell his train. Bharat, &atrughna both will wear Bark mantles, and his lodging share, Still with their elder brother dwell In the wild wood, and serve him well. Rest here alone, and rule thy state Unpeopled, barren, desolate; Be empress of the land and trees, Thou sinner whom our sorrows please, The land which Rama reigns not o'er Shall bear the kingdom's name no more:. The woods which Rama wanders through Shall be our home and kingdom too. Bharat, be sure, will never deign O'er realms his father yields, to reign. Nay, if the king's true son he be, He will net, sonlike, dwell with thee. Nay, shouldst thou from the earth arise, And send thy message from the skies, To his forefathers' custom true No erring course would he pursue. So hast thou, by thy grievous fault, Offended him thou wouldst exalt. In all the world none draws his breath Who loves not Rama, true to death.
This day, O Queen, shalt thou behold Birds, deer, and beasts from lea and fold Turn to the woods in Rama's train, And naught save longing trees remain.'
CANTO XXXVIII.
CARE FOR Then when the people wroth and sad •Jaw Sita in bark vesture clad, Dhough wedded, like some widowed thing, They cried out, 'Shame upon thee, King T Grieved by their cry and angry look The lord of earth at once forsook All hope in life that still remained, n duty, self, and fame unstained.
kshvaku's son with burning sighs On Queen Kaikeyi bent his eyes, And said: ' But Sita must not flee n garments of a devotee.
&y holy guide has spoken truth/ Unfit is she in tender youth, THE RAM AT AN.
Boole II.
So gently nurtured, soft and fair, The hardships of the wood to share. How has she sinned, devout and true, The noblest monarch's child, That she should garb of bark indue Arid journey to the wild?
That she should spend her youthful days Amid a hermit band, Like some poor mendicant who strays Sore troubled, through the land?
Ah, let the child of Janak throw Her dress of bark aside, And let the royal lady go With royal wealth supplied.
Not such the pledge I gave before, Unlit to linger here: The oath, which I the sinner swore Is kept, and leaves her clear.
Won from her childlike love this too My instant death would be, As blossoms on the old bamboo Destroy the parent tree.1 If aught amiss by Rama done Offend thee, O thou wicked one, What least transgression canst thou find In her, thou worst of womankind? What shade of fault in her appeal's, Whose full soft eye is like the deer's? What canst thou blame in Janak's child, So gentle, modest, true, and mild? Is not one crime complete, that sent My Rama forth to banishment? And wilt thou other sins commit, Thou wicked one, to double it? This is the pledge and oath I swore, What thou besoughtest, and no more, Of Rama— for I heard thee, dame— When he for consecration came. Now with this limit not content, In hell should be thy punishment, Who fain the Maithil bride wouldst press To clothe her limbs with hermit dress.'
Thus spake the father in his woe; And Rama, still prepared to go, To him who sat with drooping head Spake in return these words and said: * Just King, here stands my mother dear, Kausalyd, one whom all revere. Submissive, gentle, old is she, And keeps her lips from blame of thee. For her, kind lord, of me bereft A sea of whelming woe is left. O, show her in her new distress Still fonder love and tenderness. Well honoured by thine honoured hand Her grief for me let her withstand, Who wrapt in constant thought of me In me would live a devotee.
1 It is said that the bamboo dies after flowering.
Peer of Mahendra, O, to her be kind, And treat I pray, my gentle mother so, That, when I dwell afar, her life resigned, She may not pass to Yarna's, realm for woe.'
CANTO XXXIX.
COUNSEL TO SITA'.
Scarce had the sire, with each dear queen, Heard Rama's pleading voice, and seen His darling in his hermit dress Ere failed his senses for distress. Convulsed with woe, his soul that shook, On Raghu's son he could not look; Or if he looked with failing eye He could not to the chief reply. By pangs of bitter grief assailed, The long- armed monarch wept and wailed, Half dead a while and sore distraught, While R&ma filled his every thought. * This hand of mine in days ere now Has reft her young from many a cow, Or living things has idly slain: Hence comes, I ween, this hour of pain. Not till the hour is come to die Can from its shell the spirit fly. Death comes not, and Kaikeyi still Torments the wretch she cannot kill, Who sees his son before him quit The fine soft robes his rank that fit, And, glorious as the burning fire, In hermit garb his limbs attire. Now all the people grieve and groan Through Queen Kaikeyi's deed alone, Who, having dared this deed of sin, Strives for herself the gain to win.'
He spoke. With tears his eyes grew dim, His senses all deserted him. He cried, O Rama, once, then weak And fainting could no further speak. Unconscious there he lay: at length Regathering his sense and strength, While his full eyes their torrents shed, To wise Sumantra thus he said: ' Yoke the light car, and hither lead Fleet coursers of the noblest breed, And drive this heir of lofty fate Beyond the limit of the state. This seems the fruit that virtues bear, The meed of worth which texts declare — The sending of the brave and good By sire and mother to the wood.'
He heard the monarch, and obeyed, With ready feet that ne'er delayed, And brought before the palace gate The horses and the car of state. Then to the monarch's son he sped, And raising hands of reverence said Canto XL.
THE RAMAYAN.
That the light car which gold made fair, With best of steeds, was standing there. King Dasaratha called in haste The lord o'er all his treasures placed. And spoke, well skilled in place and time, His will to him devoid of crime: ' Count all the years she has to live Afar in forest wilds, and give To Sita robes and gems of price As for the time may well suffice.' Quick to the treasure-room he went, Charged by that king most excellent, Brought the rich stores, and gave them all To Sita in the monarch's hall. The Maithil dame of high descent Keceived each robe and ornament, And tricked those limbs, whose lines fore- told High destiny, with gems and gold. So well adorned, so fair to view, A glory through the hall she threw: So, when the Lord of Light upsprings, His radiance o'er the sky he flings. Then Queen Kausalya spake at last, With loving arms about her cast, Pressed lingering kisses on her head, And to the high-souled lady said: 'Ah, iii this faithless world below Wnen dark misfortune comes and woe, Wives, loved and cherished every day, Neglect their lords and disobey. Yes, woman's nature still is this: — After long days of calm and bliss When some light grief her spirit tries, She changes all her love, or flies. Young wives are thankless, false in soul, With roving hearts that spurn control. Brooding on sin and quickly changed, In one short hour their love estranged. Not glorious deed or lineage fair, Not knowledge, gift, or tender care In chains of lasting love can bind A woman's light inconstant mind. But those good dames who still maintain What right, truth, Scripture, rule ordain- No holy thing in their pure eyes With one beloved husband vies. Nor let thy lord my sou, condemned To exile, be by thee contemned, For be he poor or wealthy, he Is as a God, dear child, to thee.'
When Sita heard Kausalya's speech Her duty and her gain to teach, She joined her palms with reverent grace And gave her answer face to face: ' All will I do, forgetting naught, Which thou,O honoured Queen, hast taught, I know, have heard, and deep have stored The rules of duty to my lord. Not me, good Queen, shouldst thou include Among the faithless multitude.
Its own sweet light the moon shall leave Ere I to duty cease to cleave.
The stringless lute gives forth no strain, The wheelless car is urged in vain; No joy a lordless dame, although Blest with a hundred sons, can know.
From father, brother, and from son A measured share of joy is won: Who wouid not honour, love, and bless Her lord, whose gifts are measureless?
Thus trained to think, I hold in awe Scripture's command and duty's law.
Him can I hold in slight esteem?
Her lord is woman's God, I deem.'
Kausalya heard the lady's speech, Nor failed those words her heart to reach, Then, pure in mind, she gave to flow The tear that sprang of joy and woe.
Then duteous Rama forward came And stood before the honoured dame, And joining reverent hands addressed The queen in rank above the rest: 1 O mother, from these tears refrain; Look on my sire and still thy pain.
To thee my days afar shall fly As if sweet slumber closed thine eye, And fourteen years of exile seem To thee, dear mother, like a dream.
On me returning safe and well, Girt by my friends, thine eyes shall dwell/ Thus for their deep affection's sake The hero to his mother spake, Then to the half seven hundred too, Wives of his sire, paid reverence due. Thus Dasaratha's son addressed That crowd of matrons sore distressed: * If from these lips, while here 1 dwelt, One heedless taunt you e'er have felt, Forgive me, pray. And now adieu, I bid good-bye to all of you.' Then straight, like curlews' cries, upwent The voices of their wild lament, While, as he bade farewell, the crowd Of royal women wept aloud, And through the ample hall's extent, Where erst the sound of tabour, blent With drum and shrill-toned instrument, In joyous concert rose, Now rang the sound of wailing high, The lamentation and the cry, The shriek, the choking sob, the sigh That told the ladies' woes.
CANTO XL.
RAMA'S DEPARTURE, Then Rama, Sita, Lakshman bent At the king's feet, and sadly' went THE MAM AY AN.
Hook II.
Bound him with slow steps reverent. When Rama of the duteous heart Had gained his sire's consent to part, With Sita by his sido he paid Due reverence to the queen dismayed. And Lakshman, with affection meet, Bowed down and clasped his mother's feet. Sumitra viewed him as he pressed Her feet, and thus her son addressed: • Neglect not Rama wandering there, But tend him with thy faithful care. Jn hours of wealth, in time of woe, Him, sinless son, thy refuge know. From this good law the just ne'er swerve, That younger sons the eldest serve, And to this righteous rule incline All children of thine ancient line — Freely to give, reward each rite, Nor spare their bodies in the fight. Let Ra:na Dasaratha be, Look upon Sita as on me, And let the cot wherein }7ou dwell Be thine Ayodhya. Fare thee well,' Her blessing thus Sumitra gave To him whose soul to Rama clave, Exclaiming, when her speech was done, * Go forth, O Lakshman, go, my son. Go forth, my son. to win success, High victory and happiness.