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Book Iv. Canto Xx. T'ar'a's Lament

Canto Xx.: Tr'S Lament.


Again she bent her to the ground,

Her arms about her husband wound.

Sobbed on his breast, and sick and faint

With anguish poured her wild complaint:

Brave in the charge of battle, boast

And glory of the Vnar host,

Why on the cold earth wilt thou lie

And give no answer when I cry!

Up, warrior, from thy lowly bed!

A meeter couch for thee is spread.

It ill beseems a glorious king

On the bare ground his limbs to fling.

Ah, surely must thy love be strong

For her whom thou hast governed long,

If thou, my hero, canst recline

On her cold breast forsaking mine.

Or, famed for justice through the laud.

Thou on the road to heaven hast planned

Some city fairer far than this

To be thy new metropolis.

Are all our plasures ended now.

With those delicious hours which thou

And I, dear lord, together spent

In woods that breathed the honey's scent?

Whelmed in my sorrow's boundless sea,

There is no joy, no hope, for me,

When my beloved lord, who led

The Vnars to the fight, is dead,

My widowed heart is stern and cold.

Or, at the sight mine eyes behold,

O'ermastered would it end this ache

And in a thousand fragments break.

Ah noble Vnar, doomed to pay

The penalty of all today--

Sugriva from his home expelled.

And Rum 1b from his arms withheld.

Our Vnar race and thee to save.

Wise counsel for thy weal I gave;

But thou, by wildest folly stirred,

Wouldst give no credence to my word.

And now wilt woo the nymphs above.

And shake their souls with pangs of love.

Ah, never could it be that thou

Beneath Sugriva's power shouldst bow,

Thy conqueror is none but Fate

Whose mandates all who breathe await.

And does no thrill of anguish run

Through the stern breast of Raghu's son,

Whose base hand dealt a coward's blow,

And smote thee fighting with thy foe!

Reft of my lord my days, alas!

p. 350

In bitter bitter woe will pass:

And I, long blest-with every good,

Must bear my dreary widowhood.

And when his uncle's brow is stern,

When his fierce eyes with fury burn,

Ah, what will be my Angad's fate,

So fair and young and delicate?

Come, darling, for the last sad sight,

Of thy dear sire who loved the right;

For soon thine eyes will long in vain

A look at that loved face to gain.

And, hero, as thy child draws near,

With tender words his spirit cheer;

Thy dying wishes gently speak,

And kiss him on the brows and cheek.

High fame, I ween, has Rma won

By this great deed his hand has done,

His debt to brave Sugrva paid

And kept the promise that he made.

Be happy, King Sugrva, lord

Of Rum to thine arms restored:

Enjoy uninterrupted reign,

For he, thy foe, at length is slain.

Dost thou not hear me speak, and why

Hast thou no word of soft reply?

Will thou not lift thine eyes and see

These dames who look to none but thee?'

From their sad eyes, as Tr spoke,

The floods of bitter sorrow broke:

Then, pressing close to Angad's side,

Each lifted up her voice and cried:

How couldst thou leave thine Angad thus,

And go, for ever go, from us--

Thy child so dear in brave attire,

Graced with the virtues of his sire?

If e'er in want of thought, O chief,

One deed of mine have caused thee grief,

Forgive my folly, I entreat,

And with my head I touch thy feet.'

Again the hapless Tr wept

As to her husband's side she crept,

And wild with sorrow and dismay

Sat on the ground where Bl lay.

Footnotes

349:
1b Sugriva's wife.

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