---

Toru Dutt - Lakshman
Work rating: Medium

"Hark! Lakshman! Hark, again that cry! 
                  It is, — it is my husband`s voice! 
              Oh hasten, to his succour fly, 
                  No more hast thou, dear friend, a choice. 
              He calls on thee, perhaps his foes 
                  Environ him on all sides round, 
             That wail, — it means death`s final throes! 
                  Why standest thou, as magic-bound? 


              "Is this a time for thought, — oh gird 
                Thy bright sword on, and take thy bow! 
            He heeds not, hears not any word, 
                Evil hangs over us, I know! 
            Swift in decision, prompt in deed, 
                Brave unto rashness, can this be, 
            The man to whom all looked at need? 
                Is it my brother that I see! 


            "Oh no, and I must run alone, 
                For further here I cannot stay; 
            Art thou transformed to blind dumb stone! 
                Wherefore this impious, strange delay! 
            That cry, — that cry, — it seems to ring 
                Still in my ears, — I cannot bear 
            Suspense; if help we fail to bring 
                His death at least we both can share" 


           "Oh calm thyself, Videhan Queen, 
                No cause is there for any fear, 
            Hast thou his prowess never seen? 
                Wipe off for shame that dastard tear! 
            What being of demonian birth 
                Could ever brave his mighty arm? 
            Is there a creature on earth 
                That dares to work our hero harm? 


            "The lion and the grisly bear 
                Cower when they see his royal look, 
            Sun-staring eagles of the air 
                His glance of anger cannot brook, 
            Pythons and cobras at his tread 
                To their most secret coverts glide, 
            Bowed to the dust each serpent head 
                Erect before in hooded pride. 


            "Rakshasas, Danavs, demons, ghosts, 
                Acknowledge in their hearts his might, 
            And slink to their remotest coasts, 
                In terror at his very sight. 
            Evil to him! Oh fear it not, 
                Whatever foes against him rise! 
            Banish for aye the foolish thought, 
                And be thyself, — bold, great, and wise. 


            "He call for help! Canst thou believe 
                He like a child would shriek for aid 
            Or pray for respite or reprieve — 
                Not of such metal is he made! 
            Delusive was that piercing cry, — 
                Some trick of magic by the foe; 
            He has a work, — he cannot die, 
                Beseech me not from hence to go. 


            For here beside thee, as a guard 
                `Twas he commanded me to stay, 
            And dangers with my life to ward 
                If they should come across thy way. 
            Send me not hence, for in this wood 
                Bands scattered of the giants lurk, 
            Who on their wrongs and vengeance brood, 
                And wait the hour their will to work." 


            "Oh shame! and canst thou make my weal 
                A plea for lingering! Now I know 
            What thou art, Lakshman! And I feel 
                Far better were an open foe. 
            Art thou a coward? I have seen 
                Thy bearing in the battle-fray 
            Where flew the death-fraught arrows keen, 
                Else had I judged thee so today. 


            "But then thy leader stood beside! 
                Dazzles the cloud when shines the sun, 
            Reft of his radiance, see it glide 
                A shapeless mass of vapours dun; 
            So of thy courage, — or if not, 
                The matter is far darker dyed, 
            What makes thee loth to leave this spot? 
                Is there a motive thou wouldst hide? 


            "He perishes — well, let him die! 
                His wife henceforth shall be mine own! 
            Can that thought deep imbedded lie 
                Within thy heart`s most secret zone! 
            Search well and see! one brother takes 
                His kingdom, — one would take his wife! 
            A fair partition! — But it makes 
                Me shudder, and abhor my life. 


            "Art thou in secret league with those 
                Who from his hope the kingdom rent? 
            A spy from his ignoble foes 
                To track him in his banishment? 
            And wouldst thou at his death rejoice? 
                I know thou wouldst, or sure ere now 
            When first thou heardst that well known voice 
                Thou shouldst have run to aid, I trow. 


            "Learn this, — whatever comes may come, 
                But I shall not survive my Love, 
            Of all my thoughts here is the sum! 
             Witness it gods in heaven above. 
          If fire can burn, or water drown, 
              I follow him: — choose what thou wilt 
          Truth with its everlasting crown, 
              Or falsehood, treachery, and guilt. 


          "Remain here with a vain pretence 
              Of shielding me from wrong and shame, 
          Or go and die in his defence 
              And leave behind a noble name. 
          Choose what thou wilt, — I urge no more, 
              My pathway lies before me clear, 
          I did not know thy mind before, 
              I know thee now, — and have no fear." 


          She said and proudly from him turned, — 
              Was this the gentle Sita? No. 
          Flames from her eyes shot forth and burned, 
              The tears therein had ceased to flow. 
          "Hear me, O Queen, ere I depart, 
              No longer can I bear thy words, 
          They lacerate my inmost heart 
              And torture me, like poisoned swords. 


          "Have I deserved this at thine hand? 
              Of lifelong loyalty and truth 
          Is this the meed? I understand 
              Thy feelings, Sita, and in sooth 
          I blame thee not, — but thou mightst be 
              Less rash in judgement, Look! I go, 
          Little I care what comes to me 
              Wert thou but safe, — God keep thee so! 


          "In going hence I disregard 
              The plainest orders of my chief, 
          A deed for me, — a soldier, — hard 
              And deeply painful, but thy grief 
          And language, wild and wrong, allow 
              No other course. Mine be the crime, 
          And mine alone. — but oh, do thou 
              Think better of me from this time. 


          "Here with an arrow, lo, I trace 
              A magic circle ere I leave, 
          No evil thing within this space 
              May come to harm thee or to grieve. 
          Step not, for aught, across the line, 
              Whatever thou mayst see or hear, 
          So shalt thou balk the bad design 
              Of every enemy I fear. 


          "And now farewell! What thou hast said, 
              Though it has broken quite my heart, 
          So that I wish I were dead — 
              I would before, O Queen, we part, 
          Freely forgive, for well I know 
              That grief and fear have made thee wild, 
          We part as friends, — is it not so?" 
              And speaking thus he sadly smiled. 


          "And oh ye sylvan gods that dwell 
              Among these dim and sombre shades, 
          Whose voices in the breezes swell 
              And blend with noises of cascades, 
          Watch over Sita, whom alone 
              I leave, and keep her safe from harm, 
          Till we return unto our own, 
              I and my brother, arm in arm. 


          "For though ill omens round us rise 
              And frighten her dear heart, I feel 
          That he is safe. Beneath the skies 
              His equal is not, — and his heel 
          Shall tread all adversaries down, 
              Whoeve`r they may chance to be. 
          Farewell, O Sita! Blessings crown 
              And peace for ever rest with thee!" 


          He said, and straight his weapons took 
              His bow and arrows pointed keen, 
          Kind, — nay, indulgent, — was his look, 
              No trace of anger, there was seen, 
          Only a sorrow dark, that seemed 
              To deepen his resolve to dare 
          All dangers. Hoarse the vulture screamed, 
              As out he strode with dauntless air.
Source
The script ran 0.004 seconds.