‘Here Lakshmana gave vent to some angry words, but Rama checked him, and begged of me again and again, adjuring me by himself, not to repeat Lakshmana’s boyish insolence.

Sita sent her greetings and would have said more, but was overwhelmed with emotion; her voice failed, her eyes filled with tears, and her body quivered with emotion.

At this moment, at a sign from Rama, the boatsman rowed the boat towards the opposite bank. So departed the glory of Raghu’s line, and I stood there looking on with a heart as of adamant.

How can I describe my own anguish, who still lived to return and bring Rama’s message?’ So saying, the minister stopped speaking and was over-powered by grief and remorse for having escorted Rama to the woods.

When he heard the charioteer’s story, the monarch fell to the ground, his heart burning with deep anguish. His mind was agitated by an overpowering infatuation, and he writhed as fish writhe when inebriated by the foam of the early rains.

All the queens wailed and wept; how can so great a calamity be described? At the sound of their wailings, Sorrow itself grew sorrowful and Endurance could not longer endure

Loud was the lamentation in Ayodhya at the sound of the outcry in the royal gynaeceum; it seemed as though a cruel thunderbolt had fallen at night in a thicket haunted by flocks of birds.