Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/87

Rh 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.