THE RÁMÁYAN OF VÁLMÍKI, VOL. III - Gujarat Knowledge Centre

Canto LVI. THE RJ^^^jTYAN. 263
My hero with his arrowy rain
From all thy bleeding lim"bs will drain.
When urged by Fate's dire mandate, nigh
Comes the fixt hour for men to die,
Caught in Death's toils their eyes are blind,
And folly takes each wandering mind.
So for the outrage thou hast done
The fate is near thou canst not shun,
The fate that on thyself and all
Thy giants and thy town shall fall.
I spurn thee :
can the altar dight
With vessels for the sacred rite.
O'er which the priest his prayer has said,
Be sullied by an outcaste's tread ?
So me, the consort dear and true
Of him who clings to virtue too.
Thy hated touch shall ne'er defile.
Base tyrant lord of Lanka's isle.
Can the white swan who 'floats in piide
Through lilies by her consort's side.
Look for one moment, as they pass.
On the poor diver in the grass ?
This senseless body waits thy will.
To torture, chain, to wound or kill.
I will not. King of giants, strive
To keep this fleeting soul alive.
But never shall they join the name
Of Sitd with reproach and shame.'
'Thus as her breast with fury burned
Her bitter speech the dame returned.
Such words of ragd and scorn, the last
She uttered, at the fiend she cast.
Her taunting speech the giant heard,
And every hair with anger stirred;