Ramayana 3.327

"O Lakshman, thou art much to blame Leaving alone the Maithil dame, And flying hither to my side: O, may no ill my spouse betide! But ah, I know my wife is dead, And giants on her limbs have fed, So strange, so terrible are all The omens which my heart appal. O Lakshman, may we yet return The safety of my love to learn. To find the child of Janak still Alive and free from scathe and ill! Each bird with notes of warning screams, Though the hot sun still darts his beams. The moan of deer, the jackal's yell Of some o'erwhelming misery tell. O mighty brother, still may she, My princess, live from danger free! That semblance of a golden deer Allured me far away, I followed nearer and more near, And longed to take the prey. I followed where the quarry fled: My deadly arrow flew, And as the dying creature bled, The giant met my view. Great fear and pain oppress my heart That dreads the coming blow, And through my left eye keenly dart The throbs that herald woe. Ah Lakshman, all these signs dismay, My soul that sinks with dread, I know my love is torn away, Or, haply, she is dead."