Ramayana 3.268

Ramayana · translated by Ralph T.H. Griffith

Bright flashed her eye as Lakshman spoke And forth her words of fury broke Upon her truthful guardian, flung With bitter taunts that pierced and stung: "Shame on such false compassion, base Defiler of thy glorious race! 'Twere joyous sight I ween to thee My lord in direst strait to see. Thou knowest Rama sore bested, Or word like this thou ne'er hadst said. No marvel if we find such sin In rivals false to kith and kin. Wretches like thee of evil kind, Concealing crime with crafty mind. Thou, wretch, thine aid wilt still deny, And leave my lord alone to die. Has love of me unnerved thy hand, Or Bharat's art this ruin planned? But be the treachery his or thine, In vain, in vain the base design. For how shall I, the chosen bride Of dark-hued Rama, lotus-eyed, The queen who once called Rama mine, To love of other men decline? Believe me, Lakshman, Rama's wife Before thine eyes will quit this life, And not a moment will she stay If her dear lord have passed away."

Ramayana 3.268 · Ramayana · 3

Themes in this passage

The Divine Love Marriage Anger Compassion Death Faith Joy

The Divine in other traditions

The same theme, as Christianity, Islam, Buddhism and Hellenism address it.

Nevertheless the LORD thy God would not hearken unto Balaam; but the LORD thy God turned the curse into a blessing unto thee, because the LORD thy God loved thee.

Deuteronomy 23:5 · Bible · Deuteronomy

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Quran 37:126 · Quran · The Rangers

Self is the lord of self, who else could be the lord? With self well subdued, a man finds a lord such as few can find.

Dhp 12.160 · Dhammapada · Self

Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers fly; Smooth glides the chariot through the liquid sky. Heaven’s gates spontaneous open to the powers, Heaven’s golden gates, kept by the winged Hours. Commission’d in alternate watch they stand, The sun’s bright portals and the skies command; Close, or unfold, the eternal gates of day Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. The sounding hinges ring, the clouds divide. Prone down the steep of heaven their course they guide. But Jove, incensed, from Ida’s top survey’d, And thus enjoin’d the many-colour’d maid.

Iliad 8.29 · Iliad · 8

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