Ramayana 3.299a

Her flowery wreath was torn and rent, Crushed was each sparkling ornament. She with weak arms and trembling knees Clung like a creeper to the trees, And like some poor deserted thing With wild shrieks made the forest ring. But swift the giant reached her side, As loud on Rama's name she cried. Fierce as grim Death one hand he laid Upon her tresses' lovely braid. "That touch, thou impious King, shall be The ruin of thy race and thee." The universal world in awe That outrage on the lady saw, All nature shook convulsed with dread, And darkness o'er the land was spread. The Lord of Day grew dark and chill, And every breath of air was still. The Eternal Father of the sky Beheld the crime with heavenly eye, And spake with solemn voice, "The deed, The deed is done, of old decreed." Sad were the saints within the grove, But triumph with their sorrow strove. They wept to see the Maithil dame Endure the outrage, scorn, and shame: They joyed because his life should pay The penalty incurred that day. Then Ravan raised her up, and bare His captive through the fields of air, Calling with accents loud and shrill On Rama and on Lakshman still. With sparkling gems on arm and breast, In silk of paly amber dressed, High in the air the Maithil dame Gleamed like the lightning's flashing flame. The giant, as the breezes blew Upon her robes of amber hue, And round him twined that gay attire, Showed like a mountain girt with fire. The lady, fairest of the fair, Had wreathed a garland round her hair; Its lotus petals bright and sweet Rained down about the giant's feet. Her vesture, bright as burning gold, Gave to the wind each glittering fold, Fair as a gilded cloud that gleams Touched by the Day-God's tempered beams. Yet struggling in the fiend's embrace, The lady with her sweet pure face, Far from her lord, no longer wore The light of joy that shone before.