Ramayana, Epic of Rama, Prince of India

X. The War in Ceylon - 130
Breathes upon the earth no warrior who could face thee in the fight,
Who could live to boast his triumph o’er thy world-subduing might,
But the will of Fate is changeless, Death is mighty in his sway, –
Peerless Rama, faithful Lakshman, sleep the sleep that knows no day!
But I weep not for my Rama nor for Lakshman young and brave,
They have done a warrior’s duty and have found a warrior’s grave,
[141] And I weep not for my sorrows, – sorrow marked me from my birth –
Child of Earth I seek in suffering bosom of my mother Earth!
But I grieve for dear Kausalya, sonless mother, widowed queen,
How she reckons days and seasons in her anguish ever green,
How she waits with eager longing till her Rama’s exile o’er,
He would soothe her lifelong sorrow, bless her aged eyes once more,
Sita’s love! Ayodhya’s monarch! Queen Kausalya’s dearest born!
Rama soul of truth and virtue sleeps the sleep that knows no morn!”
Sorely wept the sorrowing Sita in her accents soft and low,
And the silent stars of midnight wept to witness Sita’s woe,
But Trijata her companion, – though a Raksha woman she, –
Felt her soul subdued by sadness, spake to Sita tenderly:
“Weep not, sad and saintly Sita, shed not widow’s tears in vain,
For thy lord is sorely wounded, but shall live to fight again,
Rama and the gallant Lakshman, fainting, not bereft of life,
They shall live to fight and conquer, – thou shall be a happy wife.
Mark the Vanars’ marshalled forces, listen to their warlike cries,
’Tis not thus the soldiers gather when a chief and hero dies,
’Tis not thus round lifeless leader muster warriors true and brave,
For when falls the dying helmsman, sinks the vessel in the wave!
Mark the ring of hopeful Vanars, how they watch o’er Rama’s face,
How they guard the younger Lakshman beaming yet with living grace,
Trust me, sad and sorrowing Sita, marks of death these eyes can trace,
Shade of death’s decaying lingers sweeps not o’er thy Rama’s face!