The Ramayan

A while he lay: he rose at length, And slowly gathering sense and strength, With angry eyes which tears bedewed, The miserable queen he viewed, And spake with keen reproach to her Before each lord and minister: "No lust have I for kingly sway, My mother I no more obey: Naught of this consecration knew Which Dasaratha kept in view. I with Satrughna all the time Was dwelling in a distant clime: I knew of Rama's exile naught, That hero of the noble thought: I knew not how fair Sita went, And Lakshman, forth to banishment."

Thus high-souled Bharat, mid the crowd, Lifted his voice and cried aloud. Kausalya heard, she raised her head, And quickly to Sumitra said: "Bharat, Kaikeyi's son is here,-- Hers whose fell deeds I loathe and fear: That youth of foresight keen I fain Would meet and see his face again." Thus to Sumitra spake the dame, And straight to Bharat's presence came With altered mien, neglected dress, Trembling and faint with sore distress. Bharat, Satrughna by his side, To meet her, toward her palace hied. And when the royal dame they viewed Distressed with dire solicitude, Sad, fallen senseless on the ground, About her neck their arms they wound. The noble matron prostrate there, Embraced, with tears, the weeping pair, And with her load of grief oppressed, To Bharat then these words addressed: "Now all is thine, without a foe, This realm for which thou longest so. Ah, soon Kaikeyi's ruthless hand Has won the empire of the land, And made my guiltless Rama flee Dressed like some lonely devotee. Herein what profit has the queen, Whose eye delights in havoc, seen? Me also, me 'twere surely good To banish to the distant wood, To dwell amid the shades that hold My famous son with limbs like gold. Nay, with the sacred fire to guide, Will I, Sumitra by my side, Myself to the drear wood repair And seek the son of Raghu there. This land which rice and golden corn And wealth of every kind adorn, Car, elephant, and steed, and gem,-- She makes thee lord of it and them."