his way by murder to my throne,

And sullied the fair name of my dear house."

When these few awful words the monarch spoke,

Tears trickled down his eyes, and Timma from

The bridal seat received his doom, 'stead of

A blessing from the father of his bride.

A gentle touch, a whisper through the veil,

Then Timma to the royal judgment bowed,

And slowly moved from out those scenes of joy

And merriment, and reached the palace gate,

Where stood his horse by that dead elephant;

And soon in that confusion that prevailed

Was seen to slowly move a figure veiled,

T'approach the gate, and forthwith Timma swung

That figure on the saddle of his horse,

Then himself leapt and vanished straight from view.

The angry monarch saw their sudden flight,

And as some agèd lion, when sore vexed,

Like thunder roaring, musters all his strength

And stands defiant to face the foe, so stood

The agèd warrior, whose old strength returned,

His breast expanded, and his body raised

Erect, and for the time his age shook off.

Then spake he forth in angry tones like these:

"My only child is gone, and he that brings

My daughter back shall have my highest meed—

Nay, even half my kingdom I will give."

None dared save Bukka to essay the feat,

Who forthwith sprang upon his horse, and soon

O'ertook the running pair, for Timma's horse,

Though deemed the fleetest in the land, now felt

His double weight, his wonted speed decreased.

Then Timma said, "Our foe is nearing fast,

And he is armed, while weapons I have none.

In bridal dress I cannot face the foe,

And he will sure kill me and take you back

Unto your angry sire. Thou art a girl

Born of the martial Kshatriya race, and hence

Thou knowest well to ride the wildest horse;

So let me now dismount for thee t'escape."

"'Tis better far I die with thee," she said,

"But I have here the javelin thou didst give

Before thou went'st to kill the elephant,

The eighth and last, concealed within my veil.

Take this and stop the coming foe,—but oh!

Kill not the wretch who dared to follow us,

And sully this our happy bridal hour

By murder; only stay, oh, stay the chase!"

So said, she gave the jav'lin, which he hurled

Upon the chasing charger's breast with all

His might, and straightway horse and rider fell;

And, like those innocent and helpless doves,

The loving pair together fled away,

Their life of joy and freedom to renew.

Before the fury of an angered king

For full three days and nights they ran, and found

At last a safe and happy shelter in

A shepherd's cot, and in those troublous times

'Twas easier for the brave to kingdoms found,

Rear palaces, and rulers strong become,

Than for the toiling peasants, from sown fields,

To reap their crops and safely bear them home.

Brave Timma was a stranger 'mongst new men;

The many tigers by his arrows killed

And neighboring clans and lawless robbers kept

In check gave them sure hopes of future peace

And future joy, and straightway they made him

Their king to guard their women and their homes,

While they their avocations of the soil

In peace pursued, and soon was raised a fort;

A stately palace too was reared within

By willing hands, and safe from dang'rous foes,

And far away from their dear native vale

Of Vijiapore they spent their peaceful days

In joy, beloved by all their loyal men.

But 'tis a saying often told in Ind,

He hath a foe who hath a lovely wife.

Her very loveliness is reason deemed

To hate her lord, nay, murder him, and hence

Her husband's foe unconscious she becomes.

For Chandra's beauty all these evils wrought

Upon the youth, who for his country fought

So many battles, and the Moslem kept

In constant dread, and for his virtue's sake,

Though most beloved in his native land,

And dreaded most for valour by his foes,

He lived a stranger in a foreign land.

She, too, that maiden, 'twas her fate to share

Her husband's troubles for her beauty rare.

Still 'twas a little heav'n their new home where

The halcyon days of mutual love were spent.

'Tis sweet to love and sweeter to be loved;

And thus in their new home their life of joy

They spent in undisturbèd solitude;

But ah! this even was not long to be.

One day the news was brought to their new king,

By a small troop of sorrow-stricken men,

That ev'ry night a tiger from his den

Came down and fearful havoc wrought amongst

Their toiling cattle, and the piteous tales

Of dreadful woe they poured into his ear

Moved Timma's heart, who took his trusty bow

And forthwith started with a faithful band

To drag the tiger from his mountain cave

And then for ever stop his mad career.

For days and nights he wandered in the woods,

But sad to tell found not the dreaded beast.

Still, nothing daunted, continued the search,

Until at last his faithful men he missed,

And wandered far into the wilds unknown,

When lo! the villain Bukka, who, upon

The outskirts of the newly-founded state,

Was hovering like a falcon o'er his prey,

Pounced suddenly upon the lonely youth

And safely carried him to his abode;

Then tidings sent to Chandra in these words:

"Dear maid! thy Timma is a helpless slave,

A humble suppliant for his life before

The valiant Bukka; let thy pride now cease.

The jav'lin which thou sentest me to slay,

Which killed my noble steed instead, awaits

To pierce his head and forthwith end his life.

But hearken ere I strike him dead therewith,

Thy matchless beauty, valour, virtue—these

Are fit to shine in royal courts like mine,

Add splendour to my household, where installed

As queen the daughters of my land will pay

Homage to thee—discard him, therefore, and

Love me, and I will forthwith set him free."

The angry maiden made reply, "Vile wretch!

Cursed be thy head to hold this evil thought.

If in my presence this request were made,

Sure I to fragments would have splintered it

With my own weapon, and the pieces thrown

To carrion birds to feast upon withal.

Tell him 'tis better far he should be like

A cur tied at my gate, for servants, as

They pass, to throw a little morsel from

The remnants of our feast; I fear him not,

And if my lord he kills, sure I am not

His wife, if forthwith I don't leap upon

The flames and then to ashes be reduced.

Begone! 'twere better far my husband dies

Than be the prisoner of a grovelling wretch."

Bukka, whose ire was roused, sent word at last—

"Beware, you foolish maid! poor Timma's life

Endanger not by this refusal stern,

Nor lightly treat my prowess, for to me

'Tis easier far to take away his life

Than for the lordly monarch of the woods

To kill the puny, weakly lamb; and nought

Prompts me to wait thus far, but pity for

The daughter of a friend and neighbour-king,

Else Timma's body would have long ere this

Been given to the eagles of the air.

So listen now, once more, ere I kill him,

And, if at all thou carest for his life,

Let me but see the beauty of thy face,

And for one moment only gaze upon

Its loveliness—then Timma shall be free,

And I will pass in quietness to my home—

Nay, henceforth I will not molest you both.

Shouldst thou this last request refuse, I swear,

By all I sacred hold, the moment that

Refusal comes, the jav'lin from my hand

Will fly at Timma and will strike him dead."

Meantime brave Chandra in the audience hall

Of her own palace, 'midst her faithful men,

Received the news, and then in angry tones

She spurned the wild request, when there appeared

Her priest, who counsel gave in words like these:

"It is not meet, O royal lady, that

Thou shouldst this attitude defiant assume,

When Bukka in a moment may bereave

Us all of our dear, noble Timmaraj,

And drive thee, too, to fling thy life away;

And, if 'tis writ thou shouldst so die with him,

Our sad entreaties and our tears will nought

Avail, nor alter laws thus preordained.

But haply, if it is writ otherwise,

Why break the link that binds you both for life?

Call it not chance the link that binds men's hearts,

But Heaven's sacred gift to sweeten life.

It is the hand divine that guides man's life

From the inception to the very end;

Nay more, sees even after that life's end,

Its own appointed destiny is reached,

To take fresh shape, its course to run anew,

And reap what it had sown before, for take

The tree, its fruit but falls to reach its base.

The calf his mother easily doth find

Amidst a thousand cows, to suck the milk;

And all our deeds doth likewise follow us,

E'en after death, and they are not our own,

But preordainèd laws, that must perforce

Be anywise fulfilled, and He alone

It is that sees their strict fulfilment here.

For ah! why should the noblest maiden and

The fairest and the wisest in the land

Be mated to the meanest wretch through life?

All that is deemed the highest in the world—

Beauty and honour, valour, virtue, wealth—

All these availeth not, her mind is blank;

She herself knows not whom to love and wed;

Not e'en dear friendship kindles in her breast

The lamp of love, but suddenly

A passing stranger's glance, a simple look

Instinctive plants that love, which slow takes shape,

Despite a thousand counter forces, till

At last the final end is reached: a look

Is thus enough to bind two hearts for life,

And this is but the true fulfilment of

A preordainèd law that in the life

Before had all but reached perfection full,

Or their appointed shape had all but tak'n,

And in the new life easily attains

The end: such, then, the truth of all such things.

Call it what you will, simple tendency

Inherited, the least sign gives it life,

Which but leads it to its appointed end,

Like powder whose combustibleness sleeps,

The sudden spark to action rouses it.

And thus it was, O Chandra, thou didst share

A humble courtier's lot, and didst refuse

The premier noble's hand, or better still

The queenship of two mighty states, and thus

The many counter forces that were set

At work but strengthened thy true love for him.

And why endanger such a husband's life?

One wedded so to thee, and not by chance,

But by the preordainèd law of God;

For know thou livest only for thy lord.

Thy husband is thy lord, and, if perchance

It is his will thou shouldst be Bukka's queen,

Thou shouldst, so knowing it, obey his will,

Else, sure thou shalt be deemed nor pure nor chaste,

But counted worse than e'en a faithless wife;

'Tis not in man to alter written laws;

'Tis hard, nay useless too to fight 'gainst fate,

And if 'tis writ that Bukka should now see

Thy matchless face, thou canst not alter it,

And fate's severities good deeds alone

Can soften, and our holy writings say

'Tis sin to let another man behold

Thy face, admire the beauties that enchant,

And thou becomest then impure; but those

Same holy books say, 'tis no sin to see

The shadow for the true reality.

Now, therefore, let a silken veil be drawn,

And underneath a bowl of oil be placed,

And the reflection of thy face therein

Let Bukka see and Timmaraj be saved."

To this the queen consent unwilling gave,

And Bukka to the palace gladly came,

Resolved to freedom give to Timmaraj,

If Chandra were like other maidens fair,

But sure possess her, if she shone among

The daughters of the earth surpassing fair,

And like the moon among the stars of heav'n.

The veil was drawn, the bowl of oil was placed,

And lo! was seen therein a face, whose like

The royal Bukka ne'er had seen before

In all his life; like lightning it appeared,

Bright'ning the surface for an instant, and

Like lightning vanished, planting in his breast

Impassioned love for Chandra, and a love

Too deeply rooted to be rooted out.

Then Chandra through the screen impatient said:

"Now that this deed is done, delay no more

My long lost husband to restore to me."

And Bukka made reply—"O maiden fair,

O Chandra! I am smitten by thy charms,

Thy wondrous face is ever in my mind,

And nought can now induce me to restore

Thy Timmaraj to thee, to gaze upon

Thy wondrous beauty and enjoy those charms.

My kingdom broad is at thy feet, and there

Enthroned as queen my riches and my all

Shall be at thy command, and therefore hear,—

If, by to-morrow eve, thou dost not reach

My tent pitched yonder, Timmaraj shall die,

And to the pyre, if thou dost follow him,

Sure I will myself die with thee, and thus

A double sin will rest upon thy head."

As the fond mother of an only child,

When sick, clings closely to it, and for days

And nights incessant watches it with care,

When he, well versed in all the healing lore,

Gives but to please her hopes of cure complete,

But suddenly the dang'rous malady

New shape assumes, the symptoms serious grow,

The healer himself breaks at last the news

Unto the anxious mother, who stands mute,

And knows not what to do in blank despair—

So felt the hapless Chandra when these words

The treach'rous Bukka spake and left the scene.

Now 'twas her holy Brahmin priest appeared,

And counsel gave again in words like these:

"Grieve not, but well rejoice that Bukka builds

His future hope on base dishonesty.

His fall is near, and Timma's safe return

Henceforth is sure, for he that hopes to win

By treach'ry and deceit, fails sorely in

This world of God, and therefore fear him not;

It is the foe magnan'mous thou shouldst fear.

Our holy ancient writings say it is

No sin deceit to conquer by deceit;

And hence fail not to send immediate word

That Bukka should to-morrow eve expect

Thee as befits a woman of thy rank,

And with a hundred maidens in his tent.

Take twenty litters, and let one appear

More gorgeous than the rest, for thee to sit,

Take but a hundred of thy faithful men,

All armed to fight for their dear king and queen.

Thou art a kshatriya girl, thou knowest well

To fight, and therefore take thy fav'rite bow

And arrows and conceal thy person with

A maiden's veil, armed fully as thou art,

And likewise let thy men be covered too,

To look like thine own maids of honour, let

Each litter, with a man inside, be borne

By four, go forth equipped likewise, surprise

The foe, bring him a prisoner, or upon

The field of battle die a noble death.

And death need have no horrors unto thee,

But unto those to whom this world is bright,

Its prospects hopeful and its pleasures keen,

And to the healthy and the young