Ramayana 3.373a

As Rama, pierced by sorrow's sting, Lamented like a helpless thing, And by his mighty woe distraught Was lost in maze of troubled thought, Sumitra's son with loving care Consoled him in his wild despair, And while his feet he gently pressed With words like these the chief addressed: "For sternest vow and noblest deed Was Dasaratha blessed with seed. Thee for his son the king obtained, Like Amrit by the Gods regained. Thy gentle graces won his heart, And all too weak to live apart The monarch died, as Bharat told, And lives on high mid Gods enrolled. If thou, O Rama, wilt not bear This grief which fills thee with despair, How shall a weaker man e'er hope, Infirm and mean, with woe to cope? Take heart, I pray thee, noblest chief: What man who breathes is free from grief? Misfortunes come and burn like flame, Then fly as quickly as they came. Yayati son of Nahush reigned With Indra on the throne he gained. But falling for a light offence He mourned a while the consequence. Vasishtha, reverend saint and sage, Priest of our sire from youth to age, Begot a hundred sons, but they Were smitten in a single day.(511) And she, the queen whom all revere, The mother whom we hold so dear, The earth herself not seldom feels Fierce fever when she shakes and reels. And those twin lights, the world's great eyes, On which the universe relies,-- Does not eclipse at times assail Their brilliance till their fires grow pale? The mighty Powers, the Immortal Blest Bend to a law which none contest. No God, no bodied life is free From conquering Fate's supreme decree. E'en Sakra's self must reap the meed Of virtue and of sinful deed. And O great lord of men, wilt thou Helpless beneath thy misery bow? No, if thy dame be lost or dead, O hero, still be comforted, Nor yield for ever to thy woe O'ermastered like the mean and low. Thy peers, with keen far-reaching eyes, Spend not their hours in ceaseless sighs; In dire distress, in whelming ill Their manly looks are hopeful still.