Then spake the Queen: "A gem serene kind Fate bestow'd on me;
With thee I kept it: where is it? I ask it back of thee.
"Thou art a king, thy duty is the poor man's all to save;
And I am poor; return me now the gem to thee I gave."
"And thou," said Ravan, "thou, my dear, wilt also vex me so?
O add not fuel to the fire, my heart is full of woe.
"This Lanka, nurse of heroes once, hath now no warrior great;
My realm is left all hero-reft at thy son's woful fate.
"At one child's death, my dearest Queen, thou art so pale with grief;
While at a thousand children's death my mind hath no relief.
"This Lanka will decay, I see in fancy's eye, my Queen;
My men fall day by day before the foeman's arrow keen.
"Then weep not, fair Chitrangada, for neither tears nor sighs
Can change the fixt decree of Fate or bid the dead arise."
June, 1897.
