“O, may no ill my spouse betide!”

Longing to gaze on Sítá's face

He hastened to his dwelling-place,

Then sinking neath his misery's weight,

He looked and found it desolate.

Tossing his mighty arms on high

He sought her with an eager cry,

From spot to spot he wildly ran

Each corner of his home to scan.

He looked, but Sítá was not there;