faithful guide.
Say, is it well with Rama still?
Lives Lakshman yet untouched by ill?
Then why should Rama's hand be slow
To free his consort from her woe?
Why spare to burn, in search of me,
The land encircled by the sea?
Can Bharat send no army out
With banners, cars and battle shout?
Cannot thy king Sugriva lend
His legions to assist his friend?"

His hands upon his head he laid
And thus again his answer made:
"Not yet has Rama learnt where lies
His lady of the lotus eyes,
Or he like Indra from the sky
To Sachi's(860) aid, to thee would fly.
Soon will he hear the tale, and then,
Roused to revenge, the lord of men
Will to the giants' island lead
Fierce myriads of the woodland breed,
Bridging his conquering way, and make
The town a ruin for thy sake.
Believe my words, sweet dame; I swear
By roots and fruit, my woodland fare,
By Meru's peak and Vindhva's chain,
And Mandar of the Milky Main,
Soon shalt thou see thy lord, though now
He waits upon Prasravan's(861) brow,
Come glorious as the breaking morn,
Like Indra on Airavat(862) borne.
For thee he looks with longing eyes;
The wood his scanty food supplies.
For thee his brow is pale and worn,
For thee are meat and wine forsworn.
Thine image in his heart he keeps,
For thee by night he wakes and weeps.
Or if perchance his eyes he close
And win brief respite from his woes,
E'en then the name of Sita slips
In anguish from his murmuring lips.
If lovely flowers or fruit he sees,
Which women love, upon the trees,
To thee, to thee his fancy flies.
And 'Sita! O my love!' he cries."

Canto XXXVII. Sita's Speech.

"Thou bringest me," she cried again,
"A mingled draught of bliss and pain:
Bliss, that he wears me in his heart,
Pain, that he wakes and weeps apart,
O, see how Fate is king of all,
Now lifts us high, now bids us fall,
And leads a captive bound with cord
The meanest slave, the proudest lord,
Thus even now Fate's stern decree
Has struck with grief my lord and me.
Say, how shall Rama reach the shore
Of sorrow's waves that rise and roar,
A shipwrecked sailor, well nigh drowned
In the wild sea that foams around?
When will he smite the demon down,
Lay low in dust the giants' town,
And, glorious from his foes' defeat,
His wife, his long-lost Sita, meet?
Go, bid him speed to smite his foes
Before the year shall reach its close.
Ten months are fled but two remain,
Then Ravan's captive must be slain.
Oft has Vibhishan,(863) just and wise