The Ramayan by Valmiki

The Vanar watched concealed: each word Of Sita and the fiends he heard, And in a maze of anxious thought His quick-conceiving bosom wrought. "At length my watchful eyes have seen, Pursued so long, the Maithil queen, Sought by our Vanar hosts in vain From east to west, from main to main. A cautious spy have I explored The palace of the Rakhshas lord, And thoroughly learned, concealed from sight, The giant monarch's power and might. And now my task must be to cheer The royal dame who sorrows here. For if I go, and soothe her not, A captive in this distant spot, She, when she finds no comfort nigh, Will sink beneath her woes and die. How shall my tale, if unconsoled I leave her, be to Rama told? How shall I answer Raghu's son, "No message from my darling, none?" The husband's wrath, to fury fanned, Will scorch me lifeless where I stand, Or if I urge my lord the king To Lanka's isle his hosts to bring, In vain will be his zeal, in vain The toil, the danger, and the pain. Yea, this occasion must I seize That from her guard the lady frees, To win her ear with soft address And whisper hope in dire distress. Shall I, a puny Vanar, choose The Sanskrit men delight to use? If, as a man of Brahman kind, I speak the tongue by rules refined, The lady, yielding to her fears, Will think 'tis Ravan's voice she hears. I must assume my only plan-- The language of a common man. Yet, if the lady sees me nigh, In terror she will start and cry; And all the demon band, alarmed, Will come with various weapons armed, With their wild shouts the grove will fill, And strive to take me, or to kill. And, at my death or capture, dies The hope of Rama's enterprise. For none can leap, save only me, A hundred leagues across the sea. It is a sin in me, I own, To talk with Janak's child alone. Yet greater is the sin if I Be silent, and the lady die. First I will utter Rama's name, And laud the hero's gifts and fame. Perchance the name she holds so dear Will soothe the faithful lady's fear."