us, flower and bud!"

They drank the water fresh and clear,
And with their shafts they slew a deer.
A fire of boughs they made in haste,
And in the flame the meat they placed.
So Raghu's sons with Sita shared
The hunter's meal their hands prepared,
Then counselled that the spreading tree
Their shelter and their home should be.

Canto LIII. Rama's Lament.

When evening rites were duly paid,
Reclined beneath the leafy shade,
To Lakshman thus spake Rama, best
Of those who glad a people's breast:
"Now the first night has closed the day
That saw us from our country stray,
And parted from the charioteer;
Yet grieve not thou, my brother dear.
Henceforth by night, when others sleep,
Must we our careful vigil keep,
Watching for Sita's welfare thus,
For her dear life depends on us.
Bring me the leaves that lie around,
And spread them here upon the ground,
That we on lowly beds may lie,
And let in talk the night go by."

So on the ground with leaves o'erspread,
He who should press a royal bed,
Rama with Lakshman thus conversed,
And many a pleasant tale rehearsed:
"This night the king," he cried, "alas!
In broken sleep will sadly pass.
Kaikeyi now content should be,
For mistress of her wish is she.
So fiercely she for empire yearns,
That when her Bharat home returns,
She in her greed, may even bring
Destruction on our lord the king.
What can he do, in feeble eld,
Reft of all aid and me expelled,
His soul enslaved by love, a thrall
Obedient to Kaikeyi's call?
As thus I muse upon his woe
And all his wisdoms overthrow,
Love is, methinks, of greater might
To stir the heart than gain and right.
For who, in wisdom's lore untaught,
Could by a beauty's prayer be bought
To quit his own obedient son,
Who loves him, as my sire has done!
Bharat, Kaikeyi's child, alone
Will, with his wife, enjoy the throne,
And blissfully his rule maintain
O'er happy Kosala's domain.
To Bharat's single lot will fall
The kingdom and the power and all,
When fails the king from length of days,
And Rama in the forest strays.
Whoe'er, neglecting right and gain,
Lets conquering love his soul enchain,
To him, like Dasaratha's lot,
Comes woe with feet that tarry not.
Methinks at last the royal dame,
Dear Lakshman, has secured her aim,
To see at once her husband dead,
Her son enthroned, and Rama fled.
Ah me! I fear, lest borne away
By frenzy of success, she slay
Kausalya, through her wicked hate
Of me, bereft, disconsolate