Was left for fiends to seize and rend,

Was left by me without defence

From ravening giants' violence.

O Lakshmaṇ of the arm of might,

Say, is my darling love in sight?

O dearest Sítá. where art thou?

Where is my darling consort now?”

Thus as he cried in wild lament

From grove to grove the mourner went,

Here for a moment sank to rest,