THE GRIEF OF KOUSALYA.
13
"I think of Lakshman, who forsook his wife and mother good
To work his brother weal, and went unbidden to the wood.
"I think of Sita, Sita good, King Janak's daughter fair;
How will she rove the lonesome grove, and rugged tree-bark wear?
"How will she sleep upon the steep, with hay and leaves bestrown?
How will she dwell within a cell, and bide her hours alone?
"O when shall I behold again that sweet face of my child?
Ah never, never! long will he stay in the forest wild.
"My heart is surely made of stone, or why doth it not crack?
My loved and loving son is gone, and I am lost, alack!
"Thou hast, my lord, forsaken all—thyself, thy fame, thy son,
Thy kingdom, and thy virtues all—O we are all undone!"
July, 1897.
[Note.—Those who are interested in the Story of Rama should read Grifiths' pretty free verse-translation of the epic.]
