Scarce Rama to the wilderness--had with his younger brother gone, Abandoned to his deep distress--king Dasaratha sate alone. Upon his sons to exile driven--when thought that king, as Indra bright, Darkness came o'er him, as in heaven--when pales th' eclipsed sun his light. Six days he sate, and mourned and pined--for Rama all that weary time, At midnight on his wandering mind--rose up his old forgotten crime. His queen Kausalya, the divine--addressed he, as she rested near: "Kausalya, if thou wak'st, incline--to thy lord's speech thy ready ear. Whatever deed, or good or ill--by man, oh blessed queen, is wrought, Its proper fruit he gathers still--by time to slow perfection brought. He who the opposing counsel's weight--compares not in his judgment cool, Or misery or bliss his fate--among the sage is deemed a fool. As one that quits the Amra bower--the bright Palasa's pride to gain, Mocked by the promise of its flower--seeks its unripening fruit in vain. So I the lovely Amra left[141]--for the Palasa's barren bloom,[142] Through mine own fatal error 'reft--of banished Rama, mourn in gloom. Kausalya! in my early youth--by my keen arrow at its mark, Aimed with too sure and deadly truth--was wrought a deed most fell and dark. At length the evil that I did--hath fallen upon my fatal head,[143] As when on subtle poison hid--an unsuspecting child hath fed; Even as that child unwittingly--hath made the poisonous fare his food, Even so in ignorance by me--was wrought that deed of guilt and blood. Unwed wert thou in virgin bloom--and I in youth's delicious prime, The season of the rains had come--that soft and love-enkindling time. Earth's moisture all absorbed, the sun--through all the world its warmth had spread, Turned from the north, its course begun--where haunt the spirits of the dead![144] Gathering o'er all th' horizon's bound--on high the welcome clouds appeared,[145] Exulting all the birds flew round--cranes, cuckoos, peacocks, flew and veered. And all down each wide-water'd shore--the troubled, yet still limpid floods, Over their banks began to pour--as o'er them hung the bursting clouds. And, saturate with cloud-born dew--the glittering verdant-mantled earth, The cuckoos and the peacocks flew--disputing as in drunken mirth. In such a time, so soft, so bland--oh beautiful! I chanced to go, With quiver, and with bow in hand--where clear Sarayu's waters flow. If haply to the river's brink--at night the buffalo might stray, Or elephant, the stream to drink,--intent my savage game to slay, Then of a water cruise, as slow--it filled, the gurgling sound I heard, Nought saw I, but the sullen low--of elephant that sound appeared. The swift well-feathered arrow I--upon the bowstring fitting straight,