Ramayana 4.74a

Thus spoke Matanga in his rage, And hastened from the hermitage, When lo, before his wondering eyes Lay the dead bull of mountain size. His hermit soul was nothing slow The doer of the deed to know, And thus the Vanar in a burst Of wild tempestuous wrath he cursed: "Ne'er let that Vanar wander here, For, if he come, his death is near, Whose impious hand with blood has dyed The holy place where I abide, Who threw this demon corse and made A ruin of the pleasant shade. If e'er he plant his wicked feet Within one league of my retreat; Yea, if the villain come so nigh That very hour he needs must die. And let the Vanar lords who dwell In the dark woods that skirt my cell Obey my words, and speeding hence Find them some meeter residence. Here if they dare to stay, on all The terrors of my curse shall fall. They spoil the tender saplings, dear As children which I cherish here, Mar root and branch and leaf and spray, And steal the ripening fruit away. One day I grant, no further hour, To-morrow shall my curse have power, And then each Vanar I may see A stone through countless years shall be." The Vanars heard the curse and hied From sheltering wood and mountain side. King Bali marked their haste and dread, And to the flying leaders said: "Speak, Vanar chiefs, and tell me why From Saint Matanga's grove ye fly To gather round me: is it well With all who in those woodlands dwell?" He spoke: the Vanar leaders told King Bali with his chain of gold What curse the saint had on them laid, Which drove them from their ancient shade. Then royal Bali sought the sage, With reverent hands to soothe his rage. The holy man his suppliant spurned, And to his cell in anger turned. That curse on Bali sorely pressed, And long his conscious soul distressed. Him still the curse and terror keep Afar from Rishyamuka's steep. He dares not to the grove draw nigh, Nay scarce will hither turn his eye. We know what terrors warm him hence, And roam these woods in confidence.