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 each fairer yet,
His kingdom he may chance forget.
Let all my gold and wealth of corn
With Rama to the wilds be borne;
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,
Ayodhya 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."

Thus in her rage the long-eyed dame
Spoke her dire speech untouched by shame.
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."

"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:
"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."(311)
The people saw, and, furious, sped
Straight the the king his sire and said:
"Choose us, O glory of the throne,
Choose us, or Asamanj alone."
"Whence comes this dread?" the monarch cried;
And all the people thus replied:
"In folly, King, he loves to lay
Fierce hands up