Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/134

98 Because I suffer, should I give
 * Thee, king, a needless pain?

Ah, no! I die, but mayst thou live,
 * And cleansed from every stain!"

Struck with these words, and doubly grieved
 * At what his hands had done,

The monarch wept, as weeps bereaved
 * A man his only son.

"Nay, weep not so," resumed the child,
 * "But rather let me say

My own sad story, sin-defiled,
 * And why I die to day!

Picking a living in our sheaves,
 * And happy in their loves,

Near, 'mid a peepul's quivering leaves,
 * There lived a pair of doves.

Never were they two separate,
 * And lo, in idle mood,

I took a sling and ball, elate
 * In wicked sport and rude,—