On him the splendid lord of all:
Through me resigning earthly bliss
He hides him in a home like this.
Now will I, by the world abhorred,
Fall at the dear feet of my lord,
And at fair Sítá's too, to win
His pardon for my heinous sin.”
As thus he sadly mourned and sighed,
The son of Daśaratha spied
A bower of leafy branches made,