# The Ramayana/Book II/Canto LX: Kaus'alyá Consoled

As Queen Kaus'alyá, trembling much, As blighted by a goblin's touch, Still lying prostrate, half awoke To consciousness,'twas thus she spoke: 'Bear me away, Sumantra, far, Where Ráma, Sítá, Lakshman are. Bereft of them I have no power To linger on a single hour.
Again, I pray, thy steps retrace, And me in Dandak forest place, For after them I needs must go, Or sink to Yama's realms below  His utterance choked by tears that rolled Down from their fountains uncontrolled, With suppliant hands the charioteer Thus spake, the lady's heart to cheer: 'Dismiss thy grief, despair, and dread That fills thy soul, of sorrow bred, For pain and anguish thrown aside. Will Rama in the wood abide. And Lakshman, with unfailing care Will guard the feet of Rama there, Earning, with governed sense, the prize That waits on duty in the skies. And Sita in the wild as well As in her own dear home will dwell; To Rama all her heart she gives, And free from doubt and terror lives. No faintest sign of care or woe The features of the lady show: Rethinks Videha's pride was made For exile in the forest shade. E'en as of old she used to rove Delighted in the city's grove, Thus, even thus she joys to tread The woodlands uninhabited. Like a young child, her face as fair As the young moon, she wanders there. What though in lonely woods she stray Still Rama is her joy and stay: All his the heart no sorrow bends, Her very life on him depends. For, if her lord she might not see, Ayodhy'a like the wood would be. She bids him, as she roams, declare The names of towns and hamlets there, Marks various trees that meet her eye, And many a brook that hurries by, And Janak's daughter seems home When Rama or his brother spanks And gives the answer that she seeks. This, Lady, I remember well, Nor angry words have to tell: Reproaches at Kaikey'i shot, Such, queen, my mind remembers not.' The speech when Sita's wrath was high, Sumantra passed in silence by, That so his pleasant words might With sweet report Kaulay'a's ear. Her moonlike beauty suffers not Though winds be rude and suns be hot: The way, the danger, and the toil Her gentle lustre may not soil. Like the red liiy's leafy crown Or as the fair full moon looks down, So the Videhan lady's face Still shines with undimmished grace. What if the borrowed colours throw
O'er her fine feet no row glow, Still with their natural tints they spread A lotus glory where they tread. In sportive grace she walks the ground And sweet her chiming anklets sound. No jewels clasp the faultless limb: She leaves them all for love of him. If in the woods her gentle eye A lion sees, or tiger nigh, Or elephant, she fears no ill For Rama's arm supports her still, No longer be their fate deplored, Nor thine, nor that of Kosal's lord, For conduct such as theirs shall buy Wide glory that can never die. For casting grief and care away, Delighting in the forest, they With joyful spirits, blithe and gay, Set forward on the ancient way  Where mighty saints have led: Their highest aim, their dearest care To keep their father's honour fair, Observing still the oath he sware,  They roam, on wild fruit fed.' Thus with persuasive art he tried To turn her from her grief aside,  By soothing fancies won. But still she gave her sorrow vent: 'Ah Rama,' was her shrill lament, 'My love, my son, my son!'