Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/89

Rh For though ill omens round us rise
 * And frighten her dear heart, I feel

That he is safe. Beneath the skies
 * His equal is not,—and his heel

Shall tread all adversaries down,
 * Whoever they may chance to be.—

Farewell, O Sita! Blessings crown
 * And Peace for ever rest with thee!"

He said, and straight his weapons took
 * His bow and arrows pointed keen,

Kind,—nay, indulgent,—was his look.
 * No trace of anger there was seen,

Only a sorrow dark, that seemed
 * To deepen his resolve to dare

All dangers. Hoarse the vulture screamed,
 * As out he strode with dauntless air.