Ramayana 3.54b

Thou with thy brother, bow in hand, Beneath those ancient trees wilt stand, And thy keen arrows will not spare Wood-rovers who will meet thee there. For as the fuel food supplies That bids the dormant flame arise, Thus when the warrior grasps his bow He feels his breast with ardour glow. Deep in a holy grove, of yore, Where bird and beast from strife forbore, Suchi beneath the sheltering boughs, A truthful hermit kept his vows. Then Indra, Sachi's heavenly lord, Armed like a warrior with a sword, Came to his tranquil home to spoil The hermit of his holy toil, And left the glorious weapon there Entrusted to the hermit's care, A pledge for him to keep, whose mind To fervent zeal was all resigned. He took the brand: with utmost heed He kept it for the warrior's need: To keep his trust he fondly strove When roaming in the neighbouring grove: Whene'er for roots and fruit he strayed Still by his side he bore the blade: Still on his sacred charge intent, He took his treasure when he went. As day by day that brand he wore, The hermit, rich in merit's store From penance rites each thought withdrew, And fierce and wild his spirit grew. With heedless soul he spurned the right, And found in cruel deeds delight. So, living with the sword, he fell, A ruined hermit, down to hell. This tale applies to those who deal Too closely with the warrior's steel: The steel to warriors is the same As fuel to the smouldering flame. Sincere affection prompts my speech: I honour where I fain would teach. Mayst thou, thus armed with shaft and bow, So dire a longing never know As, when no hatred prompts the fray, These giants of the wood to slay: For he who kills without offence Shall win but little glory thence. The bow the warrior joys to bend Is lent him for a nobler end, That he may save and succour those Who watch in woods when pressed by foes. What, matched with woods, is bow or steel? What, warrior's arm with hermit's zeal?