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diff --git a/old/11096-8.txt b/old/11096-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35ad743 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/11096-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2782 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Ind, by T. Ramakrishna + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of Ind + And Other Poems + +Author: T. Ramakrishna + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [EBook #11096] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF IND *** + + + + +Produced by Christine De Ryck and the PG Online Distributed Proofreaders. + + + + +TALES OF IND + +_AND OTHER POEMS_ + + +BY + +T. RAMAKRISHNA + + + +1896 + + + + + TO + THE MEMORY OF + MY DEAR DAUGHTER + KAMALA. + + + The star that rose to cheer our humble life, + And make a little heaven of our home, + Shall rise again--yes, surely rise again + To give us everlasting joy divine. + + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + TO MY DAUGHTER + + LORD TENNYSON + + SEETA AND RAMA--A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE + + THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING + + THE STORY OF RUDRA + + THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS + + CHANDRA--A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKÓTA + + THE KORATHY'S LULLABY + + + + +_LORD TENNYSON._ + + + A poet of my native land has said-- + The life the good and virtuous lead on earth + Is like the black-eyed maiden of the East, + Who paints the lids to look more bright and fair. + The eyes may smart and water, but withal + She loves to please them that behold her face. + E'en so, my Master, thine own life has been. + Thy songs have pleased the world, thy thoughts divine + Have purified, likewise ennobled man. + And what are they, those songs and thoughts divine, + But sad experience of thy life, dipt deep + In thine own tears, and traced on nature's page? + To please and teach the world for two dear ones + You mourned--a friend in youth, a son in age + 'Tis said the life that gives one moment's joy + To one lone mortal is not lived in vain; + But lives like thine God grants as shining lights + That we in darkness Him aright may see. + Nay more, such lives the more by ills beset + Do shine the more and better teach His ways. + Alas! thou'rt gone that wert so kind to one + Obscure--a stranger in a distant land. + Accept from him this wreath uncouth of words + Which do but half express the grief he feels. + + + + +_SEETA AND RAMA_. + +A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE. + + + It was by far the loveliest scene in Ind:-- + A deep sunk lonely vale, 'tween verdant hills + That, in eternal friendship, seemed to hold + Communion with the changing skies above; + Dark shady groves the haunts of shepherd boys + And wearied peasants in the midday noon; + A lake that shone in lustre clear and bright + Like a pure Indian diamond set amidst + Green emeralds, where every morn, with songs + Of parted lovers that tempted blooming maids + With pitchers on their heads to stay and hear + Those songs, the busy villagers of the vale + Their green fields watered that gave them sure hopes + Of future plenty and of future joys. + Oh, how uncertain man's sure hopes and joys! + In this enchanted hollow that was scooped-- + For so it seemed--by God's own mighty hand, + Where Nature shower'd her richest gifts to make + Another paradise, stood Krishnapore + With her two score and seven huts reared by + The patient labour of her simple men. + + In this blest hamlet one there was that owned + Its richest lands: beloved by all its men, + Their friend in times of need, their guide in life, + Partaker of their joys and woes as well, + The arbiter of all their petty strifes. + By him his friend the village master lived + That at his door a group of children taught; + A man he was well versed in ancient lore; + And oft at night, when ended was their toil, + The villagers with souls enraptured heard him + In fiery accents speak of Krishna's deeds + And Rama's warlike skill, and wondered that + He knew so well the deities they adored. + One only daughter this schoolmaster had, + And Seeta was her name, the prettiest maid + In all the village, nursed by the fond cares + Of her indulgent sire, and loved with all + The tender feelings that pure love inspires + By the rich villager's only son, the heir + Of all his father's wealth; the best at school, + The boldest of the village youths at play, + And the delight of all those that saw him; + And these seemed such a fitting pair that oft + The secret whisper round the village ran + That Seeta was to wed the rich man's son. + Thus, in this Eden, its blest inmates lived + And passed their days, the villagers at the fields, + Their busy women at the blazing hearths, + The village master at his cottage door, + And Rama and fair Seeta in true love. + + Hither a monster came, that slowly sucked + The vigour, the very life of Krishnapore. + The brilliant lustre of the diamond lake, + The emerald greenness of the waving fields, + The shady groves and pleasant cottage grounds, + And all the beauties of the happy vale + Soon vanished imperceptibly, as if + Some unconsuming furnace underneath + Had baked the earth and rendered it all bare, + Until its inmates wandered desolate, + With hollow cheeks, sunk eyes, and haggard faces, + Like walking skeletons pasted o'er with skin. + No more would blooming girls with pitchers laden + Repair to the clear lake while curling smoke + Rose from their cottage roofs; no more at morn + Would Rama be the first at school to see + His Seeta deck her father's house with flowers; + No more at eve the village master pour + From Hindu lore the mighty deeds of gods + To the delighted ears of simple men; + For these have left their lands and their dear homes. + And Seeta with her father left her cot, + And cast behind, with a deep, heavy sigh, + One ling'ring look upon that vale where she + Was born and fondly nursed,--where glided on + Her days in pleasure and pure innocence,-- + Where Rama lived and loved her tenderly. + Her father died of hunger on the way, + And the lone creature wandered in the streets + Of towns from door to door, and vainly begged + For food, till some, deep moved by the sad tales + Of the lone straggler, safely lodged her in + A famine camp, where, heavy laden with + A double sorrow (for her lover too, + She thought, had died), her tedious life she spent. + And days and weeks and months thus rolled away, + Until at last her love for the dead youth + Mysterious waned, and, like a shallow lamp, + Burnt in her breast with nothing to feed it. + + One day the news went through the famine shed + That a lean youth, plucked from the very arms + Of cruel death, was tenderly nursed there; + And all its inmates hurried to the scene. + Poor Seeta saw the youth, and that sad sight + She ne'er forgot; the youth was in her mind + Too firmly rooted to be rooted out, + Who ev'ry day in strength and beauty grew, till he + Appeared the fairest youth in all the camp. + First pity for the youth, then love for him + Mysterious came to her, until at last + The flick'ring flame shone sudden in her breast. + "This stranger I must wed, for him I love, + I know not how; that pleasant face is like + The face of him I dearly loved; I see + Appearing ev'ry day upon that face, + As if by magic wrought, those beauties that + Were seated on dead Rama's face." Thus mused + This maiden of the camp, and the fair youth + Thus kindled in her breast the hidden flame + Of love and fed it ever with new strength, + Which shone again in all its purity. + + As the moon whose effulgence hidden lies + When dimmed by clouds, suddenly blazes forth + And in her wonted beauty shines again + What time she darts into the cloudless vault, + So shone again in lovely Seeta's breast + The lamp of love by clouds of sorrow dimmed. + The smothered passion suddenly blazed forth + In brighter lustre, and to her returned + With double force, as when the flaming fire + Is smothered when more fuel is on it thrown, + And straightway flames and gives a brighter light. + + At last the monster left the land, the camp + Was broke, its inmates left it for their homes. + England, would that one of thy sons were there + To hear what words, what blessings now burst from + Their inward hearts for nursing them when they + From all estranged had poured into thine arms! + Poor Seeta hastened to the youth she loved, + And to him with a gladdened heart thus spake:-- + Her rosy lips, just oped to speak, were like + A half-blown rosebud blossoming all at once; + Such magic was wrought on her ere she spake: + "Kind stranger, whither goest thou? I am + A lonely maiden, and friends I have none; + And thee alone I trust as my safe guide + To Krishnapore." + "Dear maid! thy sorrows cease; + My way now lies through Krishnapore: fear not, + I shall restore thee to thy home and friends; + Trust me as your safe guide and dearest friend." + She, overjoyed, recounted to the youth + Her tale--how she, her father's only hope + And pride, reluctant left their native vale + And cottage home; how he died on the way, + And she, a lonely creature, wandered in + The streets from door to door and begged for food; + How she was taken to the famine camp; + How he, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, + Was brought one day and there nursed tenderly; + And how in beauty ev'ry day he grew + Until like her dead Rama he appeared. + The village youth, unable any more + Now to suppress him, suddenly exclaimed, + "Look here, whose name is on this arm tattooed?" + "O Rama, Krishna, Govinda, and all + Ye Gods that I adore, ye have blest me; + This is the happiest moment in my life, + And this the happiest spot in all the earth, + For now my long-lost Rama I have found." + So saying, she intently gazed on him. + + As a rich mine pours forth its hidden wealth + To the delight of those that day and night + Court eagerly its treasures them t' enrich; + So from this lovely pair's deep mine of feelings, + What honeyed words escaped now through their lips + To their intense joy, better far than all + The treasures any ample mine bestows! + With sweet talk they beguiled their tedious way; + The verdant hills sublime rose to the view; + The broad lake glittered diamond-like again; + And wreathing smoke curled from the cottage roofs; + The lovely vale became the lovely vale + Again, and all the long forgotten scenes + In quick succession flowed before them both; + And never was a happier marriage seen + In all that happy vale of Krishnapore. + + + + +_THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING_. + + + It was the month of May, and glorious rose + The sun on Jinji, bathing in his light + Her lofty hills, her ancient walls and towers, + Her battlements, and all the glittering scene + That bade the stranger tell--"here lives a prince;" + And greeting late, as if too long he slept + Upon his ocean bed, the eager crowd + That in their best attire at early dawn + Fast gathered from their hamlets far and wide, + And like a hive swarmed on the castled hills. + + Perhaps some village poet waited there, + Who day and night toiled hard in metres rare + To sing the deeds and virtues of his prince + And trace them on the leaves of that lone palm + Which stood close by his humble cottage home. + Perhaps with faces that bespoke deep grief + A troop of farmers there had come to tell + To their sport-loving prince the havoc wrought + Upon their toiling cattle by wild beasts + That nightly from their hill abodes came down + To feast on them. And in that motley crowd + Were servants of the state and many more + Who long had waited merely for a glimpse + Of their just ruler Désing holding court. + + But soon there echoed through the lofty hills + The sound of th' Indian bugle and the drum + Proclaiming the arrival of the prince; + And often, as the new flood rushing down + With the still waters of a sleeping stream, + Leaves nought behind, and all is vacancy, + Or as the dim light of a shallow lamp + Suddenly blazes forth and soon is quenched, + So louder rose the clamour of the crowd + At the sound of the bugle and the drum, + Then straightway in deep silence died away, + And perfect stillness reigned everywhere. + + Upon his gorgeous throne sat Jinji's prince + With servants fanning him on either side; + And in a place of honour sate in that + Capacious hall his holy Brahmin priest, + The master of his well-trained army there, + The chief and trusted min'ster of the state, + The aged poet that his praises sang, + The sage that, versed in all the starry lore, + His royal master's fortunes daily told; + The painter that adorned those ancient walls, + And countless other servants of the prince + There gathered each in his accustomed seat. + + Then from the gate approached a trusty page, + And said with folded hands and trembling lips-- + "O royal master, at the gate there waits + A man of noble mien from the far north + Requesting audience on affairs of state." + "Conduct him to our presence," said the prince. + The stranger came,--upon the floor he knelt + And said--"Thou mighty prince of these fair lands, + I come from Arcot, and the Nabob sent + His humble servant to demand of thee + Thy dues which these five years thou hast not paid. + Know, then, if these are not now duly paid, + From thee he will these broad dominions wrest, + And give them those who will his rule obey." + The angry prince made answer--"Go and tell + Your master that his vain threats move us not, + Say we will gladly meet him on the field." + So saying, from his royal seat he rose, + And to his palace instantly withdrew. + + As when a stone dropped in the middle of + A placid pool its slumb'ring waters wakes, + And the calm surface is all ruffled seen, + Or at the merest touch of ruthless man + Bent on the honeyed treasures of the hive + Those myriad ones leave murm'ring to the foe + Their hoarded wealth to which they fondly clung, + So scattered to their distant native homes + The bustling crowd that met on Jinji's hills, + When he of Arcot came to mar their joys. + + And days and months rolled on until one day + To Désing came his loyal spy and said-- + "My noble ruler, on the other side + Of the fair stream that runs through yonder plain, + There waits our foe of Arcot with his men: + Prepare to go and meet him on the field." + 'Twas even time--the warrior prince soon wrote + To Mamood Khan, the master of his troops, + To hasten to his country's duty first. + What though it was that soldier's bridal hour, + When he received his royal master's call! + "My country's welfare first, then my fair spouse," + He said, and leapt upon his faithful steed + And stood, ere morn had streaked the eastern sky, + Before his lord his bidding to obey. + + The prince rose early on that fated day + And to the temple of his God repaired, + There to invoke His blessing on the field. + Then to the palace hastened he to meet, + Ere he went forth to fight, his youthful wife, + Who day by day in beauty grew amidst + A score of maidens, like the waxing moon; + And, with a screen of silk between, they met. + As one lured by the fragrance of the rose + Stoops down gently to lift the truant stalk + That to the other side of the thick hedge + Shoots out alone from its own parent stem, + So fondly down stooped Jinji's noble prince + To kiss the jewelled arm of his fair spouse + Which through the screen she offered to her lord. + Prince Désing was the first who silence broke. + "My dear wife! on the day when we were wed + These eyes of mine had not e'en this arm seen, + Although on the same bridal seat we sat. + The screen which by the custom of our race + Was drawn by cruel hands hid thee from view. + So wondrous fair this arm looks that methinks + Rare beauties must be seated on thy face. + My foe hath come; fear not; I go to fight, + And come with honours loaded from the field, + A victor to rejoice with thee to-night + At the propitious hour which, by the aid + Of all his starry lore, our Brahmin sage + Hath for our nuptials named,--to gaze and scan + In silent joy what charms, what beauties rare + The hand divine has showered upon thy face, + And to recount to thee, when with thine own + My arm in friendship plays, what blood it shed, + What havoc in the Moslem camp it wrought. + So let me now depart." To which the Queen: + "I was the only daughter of my sire, + And cradled in his sinewy arms I grew; + And when upon his warrior breast I laid + My head to sleep, my mother by his side + Lulled me with songs of how in days gone by + The martial women of our noble race + Went with their husbands by their side to fight; + And one so nursed fears not the Moslem foe. + But now, alas! some evil it forebodes + That thou shouldst on this day go forth to fight." + + And as she spoke tears trickled down his eyes, + And one, a pearly drop, stole to her palm. + She felt it: instantly her hand withdrew, + And then began to speak in words like these: + "It is not meet that Jinji's valiant prince + Should like a child at this last hour shed tears + And fear to meet his foe; fear not, my lord, + To meet him like a soldier on the field. + If thou a victor comest from the fight, + We shall in joy spend our first nuptial night, + But if thou comest routed from the field, + I never more will see thy timid face + Or think that thou art born of Kshatriya race. + And if thou fallest bravely fighting, then + Remember, Prince, thou hast in me a wife + Who will not let thee pass from earth alone. + Go forth and like a warrior meet the foe. + But fear not; Runga will be on our side, + So ere thou goest kiss this hand of mine + Which from thine eyes that precious tear has sought." + So saying, this brave Rajput girl once more + To Désing offered through the screen her hand. + He lifted it and reverently kissed, + Then sallied forth resolved to win or die. + + Fierce raged the battle, but the hapless prince + Was weak to meet his foeman's myriad host; + And Mamood Khan fell bravely lighting there, + And with him many of his valiant men. + The faithful steed that through all perils bore + The prince was slain, and soon he fought on foot. + But ere the foe could capture him alive, + He hurled his heavy dagger, bared his breast, + And instantly a lifeless corpse he fell. + A few brave soldiers bore him from the field. + They hastened to the castle and before + The widowed Queen their precious burden laid. + She, nothing daunted, orders gave at once + That her attendants should prepare the pyre; + And then to her assembled men thus spake: + "My faithful men and my brave soldiers! you + Who with my lord fought nobly on the field, + I see you all weep at our hapless fate. + 'Tis God has willed we thus should end our lives. + But a worse fate shall surely soon befall + Our cruel foe--howe'er exulting now. + Weep not--there soon shall dawn another day + When from the farthest end of this vast globe + A race for valour and for virtue famed + Shall wrest his kingdom from his ruthless hands, + And everywhere your sons and your sons' sons + Shall lasting peace and happiness enjoy. + Be witness to the curse pronounced by me, + A widowed maiden at the hour of death, + Thou setting Sun and thou, O rising Moon!" + + Then as a bride in all her glory decked + Approaches with a gladdened heart t' embrace + Th' expectant bridegroom on the nuptial bed, + E'en so ascended this fair Queen the pyre, + And there embracing lay by her dear lord. + The fire was lighted and the pyre was closed, + And speedily to ashes were reduced + The lifeless husband and the living wife. + The Moslem came--heard of the death she died + Amid the flames, repented of his deed, + And, it is said, he built a lordly town[1] + In honour of the Queen, who counted it, + A sin her noble husband to survive, + And in a moment flung her life away. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Ranipett.] + + + + +_THE STORY OF RUDRA_. + + + A deep calm sea; on the blue waters toiled, + From morn till eve, the simple fishermen; + And, on the beach, there stood a group of huts + Before whose gates old men sat mending nets + And eyed with secret joy the little boys + That gaily gambolled on the sandy beach + Regardless of their parents' daily toils. + And all the busy women left their homes + And their young ones with baskets on their heads + Filled with the finny treasures of the deep. + + A thousand yards to landward rose a town + With its broad streets, high roofs, and busy marts. + An ancient temple in the centre stood, + Where to his servant Nandi once appeared + Great Siva, it is said, in human frame. + E'en learned saints sang of the holy shrine; + And to this sacred spot from far-off lands + For adoration countless pilgrims came + And men to buy all rarest things that poured + Into her busy marts from foreign parts. + + Here in this ancient port of Nundipore + In royal splendour lived a merchant youth, + Who scarce had reached his one-and-twentieth year. + His aged father had but lately died + And left him the sole heir of all his wealth. + And Rudra--for that was the brave youth's name-- + Had heard from infant days full many tales + Of how his grandsire and his sire had braved + The perils of the deep in search of gold, + And in his bosom fondly nurtured hopes + To travel likewise on the dang'rous sea. + And oft would he to Rati, his fair wife, + Exulting tell how wisely he would trade + In foreign shores and with rare gems return; + How even princes, by those gems allured, + To court his friendship come from distant lands, + And he dictate his own high terms to them, + And thus add glory to his glorious house. + And often would she vainly plead in turn + Her desolate position and her youth. + And her dear lord implore upon her knees + For ever to dismiss his cherished thoughts + And turn to her and to their lordly wealth + Which God had given them, to live in peace. + Thus wrangled for some months the timid wife + And he whom woman's charms could not subdue + Until at last arrived th' appointed day. + The little ship was waiting in the port, + And Rudra to his youthful wife repaired + His purpose to disclose; and as at times + Clouds hover over us and darken all + The sky for days, and still no rain descends-- + But suddenly when least expected comes-- + So she to whom her husband's parting lay + In words saw it burst in reality. + + He said, "Dear Rati! well thou knowest how + I fondly wish to trade in distant realms. + The time has come for me to part from thee. + This morn a little ship was sighted here, + And she is riding yonder on the sea. + And ere the setting sun sinks down to rest + Into the western waves the little bark + Now destined to take me will leave the port; + And I have therefore one, but one short hour. + 'Tis willed by Him above that I should soon + Bid farewell to the place where I was born, + Where all my thoughts for ever centred lie,-- + Soon part from all that to my heart is dear, + But soon come richer, greater to my home, + To spend my days in joy and happiness. + Dear wife! allow me therefore to depart." + + To which the wife--"Dear husband, sad it is + To me to think that thou shouldst part from me; + But sadder still the thought that thou shouldst go + On seas to roam in lands unknown and strange, + And canst not tell when to this spot return. + There is our lordly mansion here; there is + Our wealth, and here I am thy youthful wife. + Why go away and risk thy precious life + While we enjoy our days like king and queen? + Why leave me here to pine away in grief + And loneliness? Without my lord it is + Half death to me, and I would rather die + Than see him part; hence banish from thy mind + All thoughts of going and stay here with me." + + "My wife!" he said, "why cherish idle fears? + The holy Brahmin whom thou knowest well, + So deeply versed in all the starry lore, + Tells me that I am fated to return. + It is an evil omen that thou shouldst, + Lamenting, hinder me at this last hour + And tell me not to go. Send me away + With thy good wishes, I will soon return. + By Him above that rules man's destinies, + By mother earth, by yonder setting sun, + The moon that shines up in the starry heav'ns, + By all that to his heart is sacred deemed, + And lastly by his sire whose picture hangs + On the wall there, thy husband Rudra swears + That after he returns he'll stay with thee, + And nevermore e'en think of leaving thee, + And let him therefore go in peace of mind." + + "If it is true," replied the crying maid, + "That Sita followed Rama to the woods, + And that she of the Pandus also shared + With them their toils--if ever woman's charms + Had power to move the adamantine heart + Of man, then let thy Rati go with thee + To share with thee thy joys and woes as well. + If thou shouldst go alone, remember then, + Dear lord, the sin rests solely on thy head + That a young maiden has been left alone + To mourn for ever for her husband on + The seas--and all for gold and for a name." + + "A _name_ thou sayest--never, never would + Thy Rudra die unhonoured and unknown + And bear the evil name and the reproach + For ever with his sons and his sons' sons, + That of his old illustrious family + He was the only one that feared to go + Upon the sea. The sun is going down, + And cruel darkness is invading fast + On us; and soon the ship will leave the port. + Within a year thou shalt see me again. + But if 'tis ruled by God that I should not + Return, to one thing listen ere I go. + To soothe thy spirits in a few short months + An infant will be lying on thy lap, + And if a daughter she should be, let her + Be married to one worthy of our race. + But if a son is born tend him with care; + When he grows old, let it be said of him + That he is his lost father's worthy son." + And when the few last awful words were spoke + The frighted wife that stood supported by + Her lord at once grew pale and motionless. + As one that watched with anxious care the growth + Of a young tendril slowly fixes it + Upon a new and stronger prop, e'en so + Brave Rudra extricated himself from + Her grasp and gently placed her on the couch; + Then gazed on her for a few moments with + His hands upon her throbbing temples, kissed + Her brow, and straightway vanished from the room. + + And now the little ship in which he sailed + Safe bore the crew along the wat'ry waste, + And after twenty days' fast sailing she + Encountered on the way a storm, was wrecked, + And all save Rudra perished in the waves. + The shipwrecked merchant lost all that he had, + And wandered through a distant country with + No friends, no money but his hands to earn + For him his daily bread: the lonely youth + Thus dragged for years his miserable life + With nothing to make it worth living save + The hope, the only hope, to see his wife; + Till at the end of twenty years a ship + Was sighted that was bound for Nundipore. + In it he sailed and safely landed in + His native port. It was the midday noon; + He saw the selfsame fishing village that + Stood years ago upon the sandy beach, + And with a joyful heart he hastened to + His house which all deserted seemed; inside + With falt'ring steps he went, and on the walls + Of the big hall were hanging pictures of + His sire, of Krishna playing on the flute, + Of Rama, Siva, and the other gods + Whom in his childhood days his house adored, + And seemed as they were drawn but yesterday; + A thousand other old familiar scenes + In quick succession passed before his eyes, + Then quickly passed into a room, where lo! + There slept a youth and she for whom for years + Life's toils he patient bore. As one born blind + Had after years of pray'r the gift of sight + Vouchsafed to him by God, his Maker, to + Behold the beauties of the universe, + His wife, his children, and those dear to him, + But straightway feels the precious gift withdrawn; + Or as a lonely bird that unawares + Has wandered far into the deep blue sea + Finds nothing but a wat'ry waste all round, + And knows not where to rest its wearied limbs, + But at a distance kens at last a ship + To which with doubled speed it flies and flies, + And there discerns a seaman with his bow + Preventing it from sitting on the mast-- + So Rudra felt. "Is this my wife?" he thought. + "Yes, by the mole upon her cheek she is; + And beauty, spite of age, still lingers on + Her face, and this fair youth, attracted by + Her charms, came here. Why hast Thou brought me home, + O God! why was I not drowned in the sea? + Why did I leave that distant country where + These twenty years I toiled for bread and lived? + And why was I not spared this ghastly sight? + No, Rati! never would thy husband bear + To see thee lying with another man. + First he will kill you both, then die himself." + So saying, from a sheath a blade he drew, + When lo! there fell the piece of a palm leaf + Whereon were writ--_think well before you do_. + "This is," he said, "my father's dying gift; + By the advice here giv'n I will abide," + Then woke his wife, and in firm tones thus asked, + "Who is this youth that has defiled my bed? + Speak ere I strike you both." The wond'ring wife + The dagger and the stranger saw and cried-- + "Kill me alone, but spare my only son." + "Thy only son!" he said; "now wake him up, + And let us all adore our Maker first, + Who saved us from my frenzy, which in one + Short moment would have shattered all our bliss." + + + + +_THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS_. + + + It was a land of plenty and of wealth; + There God's indulgent hand made for a race + Supremely blest a paradise on earth. + A land of virtue, truth, and charity, + Where nature's choicest treasures man enjoyed + With little toil, where youth respected age, + Where each his neighbour's wife his sister deemed, + Where side by side the tiger and the lamb + The water drank, and sported oft in mirth. + A land where each man deemed him highly blest + When he relieved the miseries of the poor, + When to his roof the wearied traveller came + To share his proffered bounty with good cheer. + Such was the far-famed land of Panchala. + + Here reigned a king who walked in virtue's path, + Who ruled his country only for his God. + His people's good he deemed his only care, + Their sorrows were his sorrows, and their joys + He counted as his own; such was the king + Whose daily prayers went up to Him on high + For wisdom and for strength to rule his men + Aright, and guard the land from foreign foes. + Such was the far-famed king of Panchala. + + An only son he had--a noble prince, + The terror of his foes, the poor man's friend. + He mastered all the arts of peace and war, + And was a worthy father's worthy son. + What gifts and graces men as beauties deem + These Nature freely lavished on the youth, + And people loved in wonder to behold + The face that kindled pleasure in their minds. + The courage of a warrior in the field, + A woman's tender pity to the weak-- + All these were centred in the royal youth. + His arrows killed full many a beast that wrought + Dread havoc on the cattle of the poor. + Such was the famous prince of Panchala. + + The people, they were all true men and good, + Their ruler they adored, for by their God + He was ordained to rule their native land. + They freely to their king made known their wants, + And he as freely satisfied their needs, + And e'en the meanest of the land deemed it + The basest act to sin against his king. + Such were the people of the ancient land + Of Panchala, who stood one day with tears + Before their king to pour their plaintive tales + Of ruin wrought upon their cattle by + The tiger of the forest, that all day + Was safe in his impenetrable lair, + But every night his dreaded figure showed + And feasted on the flesh of toiling beasts. + + The king gave ear to their sad tales of woe, + And straightway called his only son, and said-- + "Dear son! my people's good I value more + Than thine own life. Go therefore to the woods + With all thine arrows and thy trusty bow, + And drag the dreaded tiger from his den, + And to their homes their wonted peace restore. + His spotted skin and murderous claws must soon + Be added to the trophies of the past, + Now hanging on our ancient palace walls." + The prince obeyed, and to the forest went: + Three days and nights he wandered in the woods, + But still found not the object of his search. + He missed his faithful men and lost his way, + Till worn and weary underneath a tree, + Whose shady boughs extended far and wide, + The lonely straggler stretched his limbs and slept, + And for a time forgot his dire distress. + + He woke, and thus addressed himself with tears: + "Here I am left deserted and alone, + Perchance my faithful people at this hour + Are vainly searching for their hapless prince, + While I die here of hunger and of thirst. + And gladly would I welcome now the brute + That has attracted me to this strange spot, + To plunge his claws into my body, tear + My flesh, and break my bones, and feast on me + By gnawing them between his horrid jaws, + And so spare me from this slow lingering death." + + So thought the royal youth of his sad doom, + When lo! a spotless figure, with a bow, + A pouch with arrows dangling on her back, + A hatchet in her hand for cutting wood, + And with a pitcher on her head, appeared. + Here every day she came to gather wood, + And, dressed in male attire, her heavy load + Took to the nearest town, sold it, then reached, + At close of day to cook the ev'ning meal, + Her cottage on the outskirts of the wood, + Where, with her sire, bent down with years, she lived, + And dragged her daily miserable life. + Such was the maid that was upon that day, + As if by instinct, drawn to the fair youth, + And such the huntress Radha he beheld. + A fairer woman never breathed the air-- + No, not in all the land of Panchala. + + The maid in pity saw his wretched plight, + Then from the pitcher took her midday meal, + And soon relieved his hunger and his thirst. + The grateful prince, delighted, told his tale, + And she, well pleased, thus spake: "Fair youth! grieve not, + Behold the brook that yonder steals along, + To this the tiger comes at noon to quench + His thirst. Then, safely perched upon a tree, + We can for ever check his deadly course," + Both went, and saw at the expected hour + The monarch of the forest near the brook. + In quick succession, lightning-like from them + The arrows flew, and in a moment fell + His massive body lifeless on the ground. + Then vowing oft to meet his valiant friend, + The prince returned, and with the happy news + Appeared before the king, who blest his son + And said: "My son! well hast thou done the deed; + Thy life thou hast endangered for my men; + Ask anything and I will give it thee." + "I want not wealth nor power," the prince replied, + "But, noble father I one request I make. + I chanced to meet a huntress in the wood, + And Radha is her name; she saved my life. + I but for her had died a lingering death, + Her valour and her beauty I admire, + And therefore grant me leave to marry her." + + The king spake not, but forthwith gave command + To banish from his home the reckless youth, + Who brought disgrace upon his royal house, + And who, he wished, should wed one worthy of + The noble race of ancient Panchala. + Poor youth! he left his country and his home, + He that was dreaded by his foes was gone. + + Vain lust of power impelled the neighbouring king, + The traitor who usurped his sovereign's throne, + To march on Panchala with all his men. + He went, and to the helpless king proclaimed-- + "Thou knowest well my armies are the best + On earth, and folly it will be in thee + To stand 'gainst them and shed thy people's blood. + Send forth thy greatest archer, and with him + My prowess I will try: this will decide + If you or I should sit upon the throne, + And whether Panchala is thine or mine." + The king, bewildered, knew not what to do, + But soon two maidens, strangers to the land, + Met him, and, of the two, the younger said-- + "O righteous king! we left our distant homes + To visit shrines and bathe in holy streams. + We have been wandering in many climes, + And yesternight this place we reached, and heard + Your loyal people speak of your sad plight. + In early youth I learned to use the bow-- + I pray thee, therefore, send me forth against + The wretch that dares to wrest this land from thee." + + And ere the treacherous wretch could string his bow, + A pointed arrow carrying death with it, + Like lightning flew from forth the maiden's hands, + Pierced deep into his head, that plans devised + To kill his royal master and once more + Thought ill of Panchala and her good king. + His body lifeless lay upon the field. + + Then spake the maiden to the grateful king:-- + "Thou, noble ruler of this ancient land! + Before thy sacred presence and before + All these assembled in thy royal court, + I will reveal my story, sad but true. + I am the only child of him that ruled + The neighbouring state, whose kings for centuries + In peace and friendship lived with Panchala. + Alas! the villain, whom my arrow gave + To crows and to the eagles of the air, + Usurped my father's throne, and sad to tell, + He instant orders gave to murder us. + The menials sent to do the cruel deed + Felt pity for the fallen king and me, + His only daughter, in the woods left us + And went away, reporting they had done + The deed; and there, in that deserted place, + Unknown we lived a wretched life for years. + And glad I am that death ignoble, which + The wretch deserved, has now befallen him. + + "This person standing here--I now remove + The veil, and, by the mole upon his breast, + Behold in him thine own begotten son-- + Was by thy orders banished from the land. + Grant that I now may plead for him, because + A woman's words can sooner soothe the heart. + I crave your Majesty to pardon him + For loving me, and take him back unto + His father's home; grant also, gracious king, + That I, a princess, may be worthy deemed + Of being wedded to thine only son." + + + + +_CHANDRA_. + +A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKÓTA, A.D. 1565. + + +At length the four great Mahometan governments, A'dil Sháh, Nízám Sháh, +Baríd, and Kútb Sháh, formed a league against Rám Rája, then ruling at +Bijáyanagar. A great battle took place on the Kishna, near Tálicót, +which, for the numbers engaged, the fierceness of the conflict, and the +importance of the stake, resembled those of the early Mahometan +invaders. The barbarous spirit of those days seemed also to be renewed +in it; for, on the defeat of the Hindus, their old and brave rája, being +taken prisoner, was put to death in cold blood, and his head was kept +till lately at Bijapúr as a trophy. + +This battle destroyed the monarchy of Bijáyanagar, which at that time +comprehended almost all the South of India. But it added little to the +territories of the victors; their mutual jealousies prevented each from +much extending his frontier; and the country fell into the hands of +petty princes, or of those insurgent officers of the old government, +since so well known as zemíndárs or poligars. + +The brother of the late rája removed his residence further east, and +finally settled at Chandragiri, about seventy miles north-west of +Madras, at which last place his descendant first granted a settlement to +the English.--_Elphinstone_. + + + The setting sun sank slowly in the west, + The village labourer from the threshing-floor + Hied home full laden with the gathered corn, + When soon there came, as from a cage just freed, + Two lovely doves intent to peck the grain + That scattered lay upon the vacant field. + Between these birds, by instinct closely linked, + Attachment fond had grown. It seemed, indeed, + That God for speech denied to them had given + Sense exquisite to know each other's ways. + Not all the speech of favoured man in truth + Could meaning make more clear or deeply felt + Than one soft motion of the slender frame, + One gentle murmur from the tiny throat. + The wife more bold, yet pausing oft to scan + Her lord, adventurous strayed with timid steps, + Unconscious all of aught to mar their joys. + Just then with steady poise on outstretched wing + A hungry falcon hovered over her, + Resolved with one fell swoop to seize his prey, + His talons bury in her tender flesh, + Lift her away to some sequestered spot, + There drink her blood in leisure undisturbed, + And break her bones and her torn flesh devour. + At early morn upon that selfsame day + A huntsman sallied forth in search of food, + And, wandering luckless all day long, at last + Did chance upon this bird. Behind a bush + He quickly crept, and straightway strung his bow. + A gladsome vision suddenly appeared-- + He saw his wife and children in their home + Enjoy the dove's well spiced and roasted flesh. + But lo! a gentle flutter of the leaves + By eagerness unconscious caused, to her + Revealed the huntsman take his deadly aim. + With head uplifted and with wings outstretched + She flight essayed, but saw the falcon near. + Thus scared and terror-struck she lay resigned + To fall by deadly arrow pierced, and give + Her lifeless form to feed the hungry bird. + The keen-eyed huntsman saw that lifted head + And open wings meant flight and sure escape. + He therefore quickly aimed his arrow high, + Which flying pierced the falcon nearing down. + That selfsame moment when the arrow flew, + When all his thoughts were centred on the bird, + The huntsman pressed his foot upon a snake + That in the bush lay coiled. Writhing with pain, + The snake poured deadly poison from its fangs. + The huntsman and the falcon both fell dead + Before the helpless dove; and foes that came + To work her woe had worked each other woe. + The loving pair together flew away, + Their life of joy and freedom to renew. + + Lo such the story of two human lives! + To them, as happens oft, abundant share + Of Nature's choicest gifts brought many ills. + But noble lives are thus more noble made, + As shining gold oft-heated shines the more. + Over the ancient land of Vijiapore[2] + There reigned a king for truth and valour known. + The lovely Chandra[3] was his only child, + Who like the moon among the stars of heaven + Shone fairest 'mong the daughters of the land. + The father fondly hoped his child would wed + A neighbouring prince, the mighty ruler of + An ancient kingdom richer than his own; + The mother she would be the worthy spouse + Of him who was her brother's only son + And trusted minister of Vijiapore. + But one there was, a courtier of the land, + A youth, yet full of counsel wise and true, + And ever ready to obey his master's will. + The terror of his foes, a hunter bold, + He rode the fleetest horse with ease and grace, + The wildest elephant his might could tame, + And horned bulls knew well his steady grip. + Him Chandra wished to wed, and in her breast + With silent hope her love for him kept warm. + The years sped on, the father fondly dreamt + She soon would be the queen of two proud realms, + The mother that her future lord would be + Both king and minister of state. Meanwhile + Fair Chandra and her noble Timmaraj + Longed for the consummation of their love. + A flower there is, the fairest flower in Ind, + A flower beloved by poets of all time, + Whose beauties lovers ever love to tell, + And liken oft to woman's thousand charms. + This flower, the stately lotus of our Ind, + Its petals closes to the moon at eve, + And all its beauties hides through silent night, + But with the rising of the morning sun + Opens and swells, its beauty full displays, + And sweetest fragrance breathes when fiercest beat + The rays. E'en so fair Chandra, though oft told + She womanhood had long ago attained, + And soon must wed one worthy of her race, + Nought heeded when alternate to her view + Were brought the prowess of the neighbouring king, + The wisdom of the pilot of the state. + To wean her love from noble Timmaraj, + He forth was sent against his country's foes, + With his small band to fall, and ne'er return. + But oft as he was sent, as often he + Returned victorious with fresh laurels gained. + And when the bards before the king and queen + Recited in the ancient palace hall + The battles bravely won, the glories of + The war, fair Chandra's face with joy, e'en like + The lotus, beamed, and as by magic charmed, + Disclosed a thousand beauties centred there. + Though silent she, her looks to all made known + Her love for Timmaraj, the author brave + Of all his country's good. Yet still she kept + A seal upon her lips, until by chance + An incident occurred which sealed her fate. + As on the sand near by the water's edge + One thoughtless stands to watch with eager eyes + The surf that beats continuous on the shore, + And suddenly when least expected flows + A wave that reaches far beyond the rest, + So stood the king and queen of Vijiapore + In parents' place, tempting their daughter fair + To marry whom she loved not, could not love, + When Chandra suddenly her mind declared. + Down through the stillness of a narrow vale + The lovely Pampa flows, whose course is shaped + By hills that lift their summits to the sky. + On either side, her course is like the life + Inconstant of the daughters of this land, + Who lived in times of old in castles set + Amidst rich groves and cool, pellucid streams, + And woodlands broad and fair to roam at will; + But these by moats and battlements enclosed + Were made impassable that the eyes impure + Of man might not upon their beauty gaze, + And so defile their virgin purity. + For all that here delighted woman's eyes + Was freely lavished by their royal sires; + And countless guards to watch all day were there, + And maidens numberless to sport with them + And while away their tedious hours of life + With tales of youth, who, bolder than the rest, + Leapt over moats and scaled steep battlements + To have a glimpse of those more dear than life, + But who, alas! were doomed to endless woe, + And sent to pine away in dungeons dark + For tainting with their feet forbidden ground. + But soon their life was changed--the royal bride, + Before the happy bridal hour began, + Was first by all her kindred freely seen, + And straightway taken to the palace hall + To choose and then make known her future lord + From anxious suitors there, and thenceforth spend + With him her days of freedom and of joy.[4] + E'en so, none dared, so fearful is the gorge, + To gaze upon the river's loveliness, + Except those inmates of the mountain caves, + That in the noontide hour, to quench their thirst, + Climb down, regardless of the huntsman's bow, + Or save the vultures of the air, those birds + Which, soaring on majestic wings aloft, + Alight, as if by instinct drawn, upon + Her shady margins, there to feast upon + The carcass of some beast that died of age. + But soon the valley widens, and she flows + At will, her waters sparkle in the sun, + And on her margins for grim hills are seen + Green fields, deep shady groves, and peaceful homes. + 'Tis here those mountains, that kept zealous guard + O'er Pampa, fade away from view, as if + To make amends for past unkindliness, + So leaving her to shoot into the plain + And watering Vijiapore and countless lands: + 'Twas here the village stood of Chengalpore, + The scene of many noble deeds of man + And woman's high devotion to her lord. + 'Twas here one crowded hour of Timma's life + Was worth his country's brightest annals, rich + In spoils of war and deeds of valiant men. + In that one hour of all his glorious life + He won a kingdom and a bride, for whom + He left that kingdom never to return; + And this the story of that glorious hour. + One day the news to Vijiapore was brought: + The elephant whose rich caparisoned back + The king, to please his subjects, once a year + Rode on, his keeper in a sudden fit + Of frenzy killed, and dreadful havoc wrought + Amongst the royal steeds in Chengalpore; + And now the mandate from the king went forth + That Timmaraj should slay his fav'rite beast, + For e'en the stoutest warrior of the land + Dared not approach him in his frenzied mood. + Then 'twas that Chandra suddenly her mind + Declared and boldly spake in words like these: + "It is not meet, dear father, that thou shouldst + So lightly use our only warrior's life, + Who won so many battles for his king + And added nought but glory and renown + Unto his country, and bid him thus fling + His life away before a beast insane. + Thou knowest well thy foes are ever bent + On wresting from thine hands this ancient crown, + And he alone it is that often curbs + Their pride. Yes, Timmaraj shall slay the beast, + But grant my pray'r that he shall marry me, + For often hast thou said that womanhood + I long ago attained, and soon should wed + One, therefore, worthy of our ancient house, + And gladly will I wed that warrior bold, + That shall, before to-morrow's sun has set, + Unto the portals of thy palace here + Bring dead the beast, that now at Chengalpore + Is working havoc on thy noble steeds." + The king to this his consent gladly gave, + Assured that Timma by the angry beast + Would be destroyed and never would return; + And so the second mandate was proclaimed + And sent to Chandra's other suitors too, + _That he shall win the daughter of the king + Who slays the beast before the morrow's close._ + The morrow came, and, ere the warrior youth + Leapt on his faithful steed, at early morn, + A maiden stood before his gate and said, + "Brave youth! thy Chandra sent me here to say + Thou shouldst not fear to boldly face the beast; + Shouldst thou come victor back, she will be thine + And thine for ever even after death. + But shouldst thou flee from him to save thy life, + Think then thou art unworthy of her love, + And she shall not e'en see thy coward face; + But, if perchance thou fallest by the beast, + Vouchsafe to her through me with thine own hand + One javelin of the eight which now thou hast, + For she will not outlive her Timmaraj, + But straightway bare her breast and plunge the dart + And lifeless fall a corpse." The youth replied, + "I gladly send this javelin, but tell her + She shall not need its use, for Timmaraj + Will surely come victorious with the beast." + With javelins seven then he sallied forth + Upon his steed to win his bride or die. + Meanwhile the news was spread that Timmaraj + And that young min'ster, who these many years + Was seeking through her mother Chandra's hand, + And Bukka, ruler of the neighbouring state, + Whom she her father fondly wished should wed, + Had started on their steeds to Chengalpore; + Each vowed to be the first to drag the beast + Unto the royal city for six miles, + And there slay him before the palace gate. + The city poured her sons the sight to see, + For in the annals of their country's past + Not e'en the brightest page contained one deed + That could this glorious feat of man surpass; + And Timma was the people's fav'rite, and + They dearly wished that he should slay the beast, + Win Chandra, and become their future king. + But soon the thought of that mad beast unnerved + Both Bukka and the minister of the state. + The royal Bukka thus to himself said: + "A richer kingdom than this Vijiapore + I own, and why should I now madly stake + My life in this hard feat; 'tis easier far + To gain this Chandra and her father's throne. + I will sit hidden in the thickest bush, + Near yonder stream, by which the pathway runs-- + For Timmaraj is sure to pass that way-- + And with this arrow I will end his life. + Thereafter Chandra's love for him will fade + And die, and who is there to marry her + But I?" So thought this foolish youth, to whom + A woman's love was as inconstant as + His own resolve to fight a savage beast, + And sat within a bush to watch his prey. + He too, the pilot of the state, deemed it + A mad resolve to try the dang'rous feat, + And silent sat unnoticed and unknown + Upon the other side of that same path, + Within a secret bush by that same stream. + The one knew not the other was concealed + The fatal blow upon the selfsame prey + To deal, but fearless Timma on his horse + Approached the beast, which madly rushed on them, + To force both horse and rider to the ground + With his huge leg, and then to tear them both. + The horse was fleeter than the elephant, + Which thus the chase gave up, but still the youth + Undaunted neared the beast a second time, + And hurled with all his might a jav'lin, which + Pierced deep the temple. Thus enraged, the beast + Began the chase again, but still the steed + Was fleeter than the wearied elephant, + And once again he stopped, but Timma hurled + A second, which went deeper than the first, + And roused him all the more--and nevermore + He stopped, but towards Vijiapore the chase + Continued; for in due succession flew + Six jav'lins, lightning-like, with deadly aim. + Thus, by the angry beast pursued, he neared + At last the little stream that must perforce + Be crossed to reach the royal city gate. + Then from the pouch that dangled on his back, + His only jav'lin, with his utmost might, + Discharged, that so enraged the maddened beast, + With fury rushing, that his writhing trunk + Had all but touched the rider and his horse + In one embrace to crush them both; but soon + The keen-eyed youth the danger saw, and spurred + His horse, which bounded o'er the stream, when lo! + Two arrows crossed each other underneath. + One pierced the min'ster dead; the other pierced + The royal Bukka, who unconscious fell. + One moment more, and at the palace gate + The wearied rider on his foaming steed + Stood, like a warrior coming with his spoils, + The beast beside him, which, worn out, fell dead. + And as the tall and massive gate of some + Old fort with spikes deep driven to withstand + The foe, who battered it incessant, falls, + And, powerless to stand the shock, at last + Falls with a crash that far and wide was heard, + So fell the beast, his massive corpse all torn + And mangled, and with jav'lins planted deep, + And when he fell from his huge throat went forth + A wail, his last, like roaring thunder, that + Resounded through the hills of Vijiapore. + Another moment and brave Timma sat + Upon the bridal seat, the veil was drawn, + And, through the veil, the sacred knot was tied + Round Chandra's neck, and all was merry there. + And still another moment when--alas! + For that strange fickleness of human life + Whose joys and griefs each other follow like + The spokes of some fast-going wheel--there came + The wounded Bukka with a violent wail + That Timma had the king's adviser slain, + Whose body lay upon the riverside, + Exposed to all the carrion birds of prey, + And him too wounded, but the arrow pierced + Not deep, but laid him senseless for awhile; + But soon, with consciousness restored, his wound + He washed, and straightway hastened on his steed, + In time to tell the story, sad but true, + And stop the marriage of that coward with + The fairest and the noblest of the land. + As when upon a tree, whose boughs with fruits + Are laden, birds innumerable sit, + Them to enjoy and to be merry there, + The cruel hand of man to mar their joys + Hurls suddenly a stone, and all the air + Around is thick with jarring sounds of birds + That in confusion fly--so fell the words + Of Bukka on that scene, where all was joy, + Where, like a beehive, swarmed the surging crowd, + To see the marriage of their princess dear; + And straightway in confusion wild they ran + Without a purpose, but in various ways. + Unto their homes some ran the news t'acquaint, + Some to the wounded Bukka and his horse, + But many to the riverside to find + Their min'ster lying dead by arrow pierced. + The sorrow-stricken king spake not a word, + But like a lifeless figure stood awhile. + A sudden fit of frenzy overtook + The king at last, and Timma's awful doom + He thundered forth in accents strong like these: + "Be this my decree, forthwith known to all, + That Timma henceforth shall be banished from + My land for this dishonour brought on me. + He paved 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 agčd lion, when sore vexed, + Like thunder roaring, musters all his strength + And stands defiant to face the foe, so stood + The agčd 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 undisturbčd 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 preordainčd 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 preordainčd 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 preordainčd 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 death's pangs + Are most severe when life is plucked, and from + Sere age, when all is ready for the end, + Life unperceived goes as from one that sleeps. + The gentlest wind brings down the serest leaf. + To sever from the parent stem by force + The freshest must be plucked, and so with man. + And by the righteous and the just, when sore + Oppressed with grief, dear death is welcomed most. + When the eruptions on the skin pain most, + By cutting them relief at once is sought; + E'en so, if noble Timmaraj is killed, + Court instant death, thy dagger hurl, and bare + Thy breast and lifeless by thy husband fall, + Like that same bird that, full up to the throat, + Swallows the little pebbles of the sand, + And, soaring high aloft upon her wings, + Suddenly closes them and drops down dead + Near her dead lover, where the body bursts. + But this, if you find hard, run with thy life + To this our safe abode, where willingly + The fun'ral pyre we, with our hands, will raise + And feed the flames thy body to consume. + Hence soon depart and Krishna will help thee." + The morrow came, and Chandra sallied forth + And, as directed by her Brahmin sage, + Went with a hundred of her armčd men, + All veiled, surprised the foe, who, flushed with hope, + Unguarded waited but to welcome her: + Then safely rescued her lost Timmaraj; + The fatal jav'lin wrung from Bukka's hands, + And himself too a prisoner brought in chains. + Then in the spacious palace hall, amidst + Her faithful men, the noble queen sat veiled + With Timmaraj, long absent from the throne, + And spake to Bukka, standing in the front + With folded hands, in angry words like these: + "By treach'ry thrice thou triedst to win, and thrice + Hast failed, and, when my noble Timmaraj + Went singly forth to bring the maddened beast, + Concealed thou didst aim at his life and failed. + The hand of God had otherwise decreed. + And when upon the bridal seat we sat, + And all were merry in my father's home, + Thou camest with a story, false and base, + And for our lives we had to flee, and now + Are strangers here, and when upon thy steed + Unjustly thou pursuedst us both, it was + My hand that stayed my husband killing thee, + Else long ago the worms had eaten thee; + Thy bones the jackals of the earth had tak'n; + And nothing left of thee but thine own sins. + It was thy charger innocent that paid + For them the penalty instead. Once more + You came, and, like a lawless thief concealed, + Carried my lord, when helpless and alone, + And for his freedom vile proposals made, + And for so many days these troubles wrought + On me and these my faithful loyal men. + Know well, 'tis virtue that is sure to win, + And truth and justice will prevail at last. + This very jav'lin will put thine eyes out; + But pity for thy present state prompts me + To let thee now alone--go safely home, + And henceforth never even sin in thought." + And like a criminal who, by pity freed, + At once goes forth worse sins to perpetrate, + So Bukka, vowing vengeance, left the hall, + And henceforth love and hate alternate played + In his dark breast--hate for this grave insult, + And by a woman offered, and love too, + A bestial passion for her wondrous charms; + And from that selfsame moment various plans + His head devised her pride to humble and + Her purity to sully, when alas! + The Moslems' greed of power gave him sure hopes + At last her Timma's ruin to complete. + Unto the agčd king of Vijiapore + His only warrior's and his only child's + Escape brought many toils and endless woe. + That Bukka, with a perjured tale, came on + The day of marriage was made known to all, + Soon after they had left their native home. + The agčd monarch knew not where they lived, + But sent his faithful servants far and wide + To bring them home; the cruel Moslems, too, + Aware that Timma's absence weakened him, + Combined a sudden rush to make upon + The royal city, kill her ruler, and + Divide the spoils and take his vast domains. + And now the wily Bukka with those foes + Of foreign faith conspired; what though he fought + As usual in the ranks of Vijiapore, + Under the banner of her Hindu king! + To them he would run in the thickest of + The fight and sudden turn the tide of war, + And, from the conquered spoils, for his own share, + He wanted neither lands nor riches, but + Demanded Chandra and her lord alive. + And news of instant war had travelled far + And wide, the princes and the chieftains poured + Their loyal forces, ready to avenge + Their Moslem foes, who, for no cause, thus dared + Their city to invade so suddenly. + And Timma hastened with his wife at last, + And was with joy received by all, who lost + All hopes of ever seeing them alive. + And soon a council in the royal hall + Was held, to name a leader and decide + How best to strike at once th' advancing foes. + Many felt proud by Timma to be led + To victory in the field or glorious death, + And many too in that assembly said + That Bukka should not join their Hindu ranks, + For he would, in the midst of battle, join + The Moslem ranks and surely bring defeat + And ruin too upon their agčd king, + The noble Ramaraj of Vijiapore, + And cause their ancient kingdom's overthrow. + But said one counted high for wisdom there: + "_Do good, and so chide him that evil does_, + Is the oft-quoted saying of our true + And ancient faith, and this is but the war + For mastery 'tween different creeds and faiths, + And hence let Bukka forthwith come to fight + Against the common foes, who thus combined + To mar our ancient faith and change our lives, + And let our Ramaraj himself go forth + And lead, and everlasting glory win, + And in defence of our old Hindu faith, + Or, if he falls, let him to _Swarga_ go + To join th' immortals there; and one word more + To thee, O Timma,--bury all the past, + And Bukka for his sins forgive, and both + Go hand in hand to fight the Moslem foes. + To pardon is the spirit of our faith." + To this consent was gladly giv'n by all, + And the propitious day and hour to march + Was soon named by the holy Brahmin priest, + So deeply versed in all the starry lore. + Brave Timma sought his anxious wife ere he + Went forth to fight, and thus took leave of her. + "Dear wife! the day to march is named at last. + Your agčd sire and our dear monarch leads + The war, and Bukka, as a Hindu true, + Joins us to fight against the Moslem horde, + And doubly glad I am that in this war, + With Bukka vying in the field with me, + And in the very presence of our king, + Who well rewards the val'rous and the brave, + The place of honour I will there attain + For courage true, and prove once more before + The world I am a worthy husband of + A noble wife; so let me now depart." + She made reply--"Some evil it forebodes + That Bukkaraj should thus be madly told + To join our ranks, for what is truth and God + To one so steeped in sin? And sad it is + My agčd father goes with him to fight. + Trust not in him and keep a steady eye + On him, e'en if within the thickest of + The fight thou art, for any moment he + May turn the tide of war; fight till the last, + And, if thou comest back victorious from + The field, I'll be the first to welcome thee, + But, if thou fallest fighting in the field, + Or if, perhaps, it chances otherwise, + Thou art left helpless and alone, here is + Our ever ready jav'lin to kill thee. + Thy body forthwith shall be nobly borne + Unto the pyre by thine own faithful men, + And I will gladly leap upon the flames. + But if thou comest routed and alive, + Then Chandra nevermore shall see thy face." + At early morn, upon th' appointed day, + The king his faithful servants summoned, and + Before them all his only brother named + To rule the kingdom and confided all + His subjects to his care; then, at the head + Of his brave troops, out of the city marched, + Amidst the royal bards recounting in + Sweet tones the glories of his kingdom's past, + His holy priests invoking Krishna's help + And chanting sacred hymns, and in the midst + Of maidens of the martial Kshatrya race, + Proceeding to the very city gates, + And singing to their fathers, brothers, and + Their husbands in shrill notes heard far and wide, + That Swarga's gates are ever ready to + Receive the faithful if they bravely fall, + The flames are ready to take their proud wives, + But burning hell gapes wide for to devour + The cowards that run routed and alive; + Their maidens' sweet embrace awaits them not. + At last, upon the plains of Tálicót, + The armies met, fierce raged the battle, and + Old Ramaraj fought nobly in the field; + And Timma too wrought dreadful havoc on + The Moslems and their ranks oft shattered, but + Alas! the ever treach'rous Bukka pounced + Sudden on his own ranks; the king was slain; + His ghastly head upon a pole was shown, + And helpless and forlorn the Hindus stood; + But, ere perfidious Bukka could run with + The Moslem foes, to capture him alive, + A faithful soldier Timma called, gave him + His Chandra's jav'lin, in his steady grip + To hold, then boldly ran his body through + And instantly fell lifeless to the ground. + A faithful few the body bore, and laid + Before the orphaned and the widowed maid + Their precious charge, and soon the pyre was raised. + Then, near the flames that brightened her bright face, + Her uncle and her people shedding tears, + Her noble husband lying cold and still, + The story of her father's cruel death + Still ringing in her ears, she took farewell. + "Dear uncle and my faithful men! grieve not: + I see a cloud, now looming yonder there, + No bigger than the hand of man, that shall + Expand and rain and water to purge all + The land of th' innocent blood shed on it, + For mother India's cup of woe is full, + And but three decades more,--there will come from + The far-off ends of this vast globe of ours,-- + A little island planted in the sea,-- + A handful of a noble race to trade, + And shall from thee ask for a plot of land, + And they shall prosper for their valour and + Shall be exalted for their righteousness. + They shall befriend the helpless and the poor, + And like the streams that seek the ocean broad, + The chickens that run to their mothers wings, + The maidens helpless and forlorn, that court + The succour of the chivalrous and the brave, + The orphans poor, the bounty of the kind, + All men of Ind, all races and all creeds + Shall to their banner flock, to live in peace + And amity; the tiger and the lamb + Their thirst shall quench both from the selfsame brook. + The giant brute before the weakly sage + Shall bow, and men shall fear to even gaze + Upon the maidens that go forth alone, + Adorned with naught but chastity, and from + All lands the wisest shall revere our faith. + He that desires our homes to plunder and + Sully the honour of our women, him + Punishment terrible shall sure await. + Three hundred years more and the little plot + Of land thou gavest shall grow and expand + Into an empire huge, unwritten yet + On hist'ry's page, and shall surpass the dreams + Of warriors bold in times of old, and like + The creepers that, entwined around the oak, + Luxuriant grow, safe from the storms that blow, + And flow'rs give forth to beautify the scene, + Her sons shall everlasting peace enjoy, + And blessings, hitherto unknown to man-- + The grandest scene for God to ever cast + His loving eyes upon, and for the world + Of man to wonder at, and there shall be + One sway, the sway of reason and of truth; + One creed, the creed of righteousness and love; + And mercy for all living things on earth; + One brotherhood, the brotherhood of man; + One fatherhood, the fatherhood of God. + But hark! there comes a shout, and yonder runs + Exulting Bukka to seize me alive. + But these kind flames are ready to save me. + Run, uncle, run at once to far-off lands + And continue thy sway in safer climes." + So saying, she leapt on the fun'ral pyre, + And speedily to ashes were consumed + The faithful wife and her departed lord. + The monarch, who thus from the Moslem ran, + In honour of this noble maiden, reared + A princely town,[5] and here the Saxon came, + And mother India was for ever blest. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 2: Vijianagar is here called Vijiapore.] + +[Footnote 3: Literally, the moon.] + +[Footnote 4: The allusion here is to the ancient custom of _Swayamvara_ +(self-choice), which is the election of a husband by a princess or a +daughter of a kshatriya at a public assembly of suitors for the +purpose.] + +[Footnote 5: Chandragiri.] + + + + +_THE KORATHY'S LULLABY._ + + +The Korathy is the tattooer of the Indian village, who offers her +services for a small fee. Hindu females are very fond of having their +bodies tattooed. The Korathy first makes a sketch of the figure of a +scorpion or a serpent on the part of the body offered to her for +tattooing, then takes a number of sharp needles, dips them in some +liquid preparation which she has ready, and pricks the flesh most +mercilessly. In a few days the whole appears green. This is considered a +mark of beauty among the Hindus. While the tattooing takes place the +Korathy sings a crude song, so as to make the person undergoing the +process forget the pain. The following is as nearly as possible a +translation of the song which I myself heard:-- + + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + Your lotus eyes can soothe the savage beast, + Your lips are like the newly blossomed rose, + Your teeth--they shine like pearls; but what are they + Before the beauties of my handiwork? + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + I've left my home, and all day hard I toil + So to adorn the maidens of the land + That erring husbands may return to them; + Such are the beauties of my handiwork. + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair; + In days of old fair Seeta laid her head + Upon the lap of one of our own clan, + When with her lord she wandered in the wilds, + And like the emerald shone her beauteous arms. + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + And often in the wilds, so it is said, + She also of the Pandus went in quest + Of one of us, but found not even one, + And sighed she was not like her sisters blest. + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + My work is done; rejoice, for you will be + The fairest of your sisters in the land. + Rejoice for evermore, among them you + Will shine as doth the moon among the stars. + + + + +TALES OF IND, + +BY T. RAMAKRISHNA, B.A. + + +With an Introduction by the Hon. the Rev. W. MILLER, M.A., LL.D., +C.I.E., and dedicated, by permission, to the late Lord Tennyson, Poet +Laureate. + + * * * * * + +OPINIONS. + + +They are interesting and remarkable.--_Lord Tennyson_. + +It is a great pleasure to me to find that a native of South India has so +distinguished himself.--_The Right Hon. Sir M.E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I._ + +It is not often that natives succeed so well as you have done in English +versification.--_H.H. Kérala Varma, C.S.I._ + +Krishnapore irresistibly reminds us of Auburn, the fortunes of Seeta are +in many respects not unlike those of Evangeline, and some forms of +expression seem to be coined in the mint of Tennyson.... These tales +possess peculiar interest as first-fruits in poetic literature of that +amalgamation of Eastern and Western thought that is going on before us +at the present day in this country. They are tales of India, descriptive +of Indian scenery, and marked by many traits both of custom and of +feeling that are characteristic of India.... These tales--tales of +woman's constancy and woman's heroism--are pleasing in themselves; and +the language in which they are told is simple, imaginative, and marked +by a well-sustained melody. The tales are dedicated to Lord Tennyson by +"His Lordship's ardent admirer in the Far East"; and certainly they move +in the atmosphere of the Tennysonian idyll.--_Madras Christian College +Magazine_. + +Much of the versification is very pleasing, and where it is best, it +has a decided ring of Tennyson in it.... The author possesses true +poetical genius.--_Calcutta Statesman and Friend of India_. + +SEETA AND RAMA:--The story is pretty, though simple. In parts, moreover, +the author, who is anonymous, displays the true spirit of poetry, which +he (or she) will do well to cultivate.... The tributes of respect for +the heroism, purity, and constancy of women which are found in Mr. +Ramakrishna's poems are in accordance with the teaching of the +Mahabarata, as well as the spirit of the Laureate's verse. Added to this +very engaging feature of his work, there is a power of description that +is very remarkable in a man to whom English is not his mother tongue. +For example, "Seeta and Rama" commences with the following +vignette:--... "All this is in excellent taste. And the same may be said +of his delineations of character. He is never wearisome or trite, and +... he succeeds in enlisting the interest and sympathy of his reader and +in proving that--as Mrs. Grant Duff lately said--there is 'an indefinite +amount of beauty and charm in everyday life' in Southern +India."--_Madras Mail_. + +SEETA AND RAMA:--A very pretty and pathetic, though simple little story, +told in the true poetic vein, and possesses a deep melancholy +interest.... They are simple tales, told in English verse, which is +characterised by a purity and a simplicity that are very noteworthy in +an Indian writer, and which show considerable acquaintance of the +English language, especially of Tennyson's writings. Indeed, of them all +is true what was said of the first poem, not only according to the +_Christian College Magazine_, that some forms of expression seemed +coined in the mint of Tennyson, but, according to the _Statesman and +Friend of India_, that where the versification is best it has a ring of +Tennyson.--_Madras Times_. + +The style is simple and natural, and reminds us more often of Tennyson's +"Idylls of the King" than any other English poem that we can recollect +now.... Throughout, the book is most finely written in rhyme, and the +learned author has minted at the forge of Tennyson, to whom the book is +most dutifully dedicated, the sentiments of Oliver Goldsmith, Parnell, +and Byron.--_Hindu_. + +We must congratulate Mr. Ramakrishna on the success which has attended +his, no doubt, pleasing labours. He is the first Hindu graduate, so far +as we know, who has come before the public as a poet, and well does he +deserve every encouragement.--_Madras Standard_. + +This little poem is an exquisitely finished, harmonious, well-written +story of a pair of Hindu lovers.... Mr. Ramakrishna is extremely +felicitous in the choice of his words, and his descriptions are so +picturesque and vivid, and his narrative so stirring, that the reader +feels as if spell-bound by the author's great skill and power.... There +can be no manner of doubt that the hand that wrote these poems is both +strong and skilful, and was directed by a true spirit of poesy of a high +order.--_People's Friend_. + +TENNYSON COMMEMORATION MEETING.--At the meeting held in the Christian +College, Dr. Miller proposed that the chair should be taken by Mr. T. +Ramakrishna Pillai, an old student of the College, who, as many of our +readers know, has himself won no small success in the field of +poetry.--_Christian College Magazine_. + +Mr. T. Ramakrishna Pillai is probably the only one in Madras, and +certainly the only native of India in Madras, who had come into any kind +of personal contact with Lord Tennyson.--_Speech of the Hon. the Rev. +Dr. Miller at the Tennyson Commemoration Meeting_. + + + + +LIFE IN AN INDIAN VILLAGE. + +BY T. RAMAKRISHNA, B.A. + + +With an Introduction by the Right Hon. Sir M.E. GRANT DUFF, G.C.S.I. + +(_London: T. Fisher Unwin_, 1891.) + + * * * * * + +OPINIONS. + +The Occidentals led by Macaulay had too complete a victory for the good +of India. Much that they said and did was wise, but their system has +failed in many ways, and was, indeed, never intended to breed up men +interested in the past of their own land. Nearly all that has been +learned about it has been learned by the labour of Europeans, and yet +natives trained to European methods of research have facilities of kinds +for prosecuting research which we have not.... I had a great deal to say +on that subject, and on many other cognate ones in an address which I +delivered in my capacity of Chancellor of the University of Madras, +shortly before I left the country, but I do not know that it has had +much effect since, though an excellent little book by Mr. Ramakrishna on +the village life of South India is a step in the right direction. We +want, however, quite a small library of works of that kind before the +harvest that is ready for the sickle of intelligent native observers is +gathered in.--_The Right Hon. Sir M.E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I., in the +Contemporary Review_. + +The subject is interesting, and I do not doubt from the specimen which I +saw that you would treat it in a fresh and agreeable way. What we need +in Europe is to have the reality, the actual working of these Indian +institutions which we have so often mentioned brought home to us, and +probably such a writer as yourself may do this better than a European +could do.--_The Right Hon. James Bryce, D.C.L_. + +Ramakrishna,--a literary gentleman belonging to Madras, who has written +a charming book called "Life in an Indian Village."--_Professor Eric +Robertson in Macmillan's series of Orient Readers_. + +I can name more than a dozen Indian authors whose works can fairly rank +with some of the best productions of Englishmen. The well-known author +of "Maxima and Minima," viz., the late Professor Ramachundra, was +considered by no other than De Morgan, the famous mathematician, as an +original genius of a remarkable order. A celebrated Cambridge +Mathematician once told me that he set a problem for the Mathematical +Tripos, basing it upon Ramachundra's "Maxima and Minima," and with the +exception of a few that headed the list, none were able to solve the +problem. In the late Toru Dutt, a young Bengali native Christian lady, +some of the leading literary men of England found a poet of no mean +powers. Mr. Edmund Gosse writes as follows in the preface to her poems +that have been published by an English firm: "It is difficult to +estimate what we have lost in the premature death of Toru Dutt. +Literature has no honours which need have been beyond the grasp of a +girl who, at the age of twenty-one, and in languages separated from her +own by so deep a chasm, had produced so much of lasting worth.... When +the history of the literature of our country comes to be written, there +is sure to be a page in it dedicated to this fragile exotic blossom of +song." Dr. Bandarkar of Bombay is considered to be one of the best +Orientalists of the day. A number of Bengali gentlemen have earned a +lasting fame by literary productions in English, among whom I may +mention the Rev. Lal Behari Day, late Professor in the Hooghly College, +and Mr. Dutt of the Bengal Civil Service. In our own Presidency Mr. +Ramakrishna Pillai has produced a work in English--"Village Life in +India"--that has won the praise of Sir Grant Duff.--_Professor +Satthianadhan's Lecture on Intellectual Results in India_. + +Mr. Ramakrishna takes a typical village in the Madras Presidency, "the +most Indian part of India," and shows us in half a dozen lucid chapters +that the wants of the villagers are all material--wells, roads, better +breeds of cattle, and so on--and that they do not, and will not for a +long time, care one cash for anything which happens, or which might be +made to happen, in the great outer world beyond their palm-groves and +rice-fields. There is nothing political in this pleasant little book, we +are pleased to say, although we have drawn this political moral from it. +It is a truthfully written account of native life in one of those 55,000 +villages which dot the great district--a tract much larger than the +British Isles--the daily existence of whose peaceful, and not altogether +unhappy, population it is intended to illustrate; and it can be dipped +into, or read through, with equal satisfaction and advantage,--_Daily +Telegraph_ (London). + +"Life in an Indian Village" is an amusing and clear portrayal of the +manners and customs of the inhabitants of a village in the Madras +Presidency. The author first depicts his little community, and then +proceeds to describe the avocations of all the leading personages. As +Kelambakam may be taken as a type of thousands of such villages, the +book will be found particularly interesting to those who are likely to +be brought into contact with the natives of India. Sir M.E. Grant Duff +has written an Introduction, in which he suggests how the simple +villagers can be benefited by their European neighbours.--_Morning Post_ +(London). + +The book itself is excellent, and gives a sketch of Indian village +society from inside. It is possible, however, that the ordinary English +reader will prefer to take his view of "the black men" from Mr. Kipling +rather than from a representative of the natives themselves. If he +wishes to have a native view of native life he will find it in this +work.--_Athenaeum_ (London). + +India is always fertile in surprises for English readers. We know +something of those among its peoples which have given us trouble; but +here is a "dim population" of which many Englishmen will scarcely have +heard the name--the Dravidians of the Madras Presidency, and we learn +with something like astonishment that they number more than the +inhabitants of England. The village which Mr. Ramakrishna describes for +us is one of more than fifty thousand, averaging about five hundred +inhabitants apiece. The first thing that strikes us in his account is +its highly organised condition. It is a self-sufficing little +commonwealth, in which a quite surprising variety of professions or +occupations are represented.--_Pall Mall Gazette_ (London). + +We welcome this little book as a much truer picture of Indian life than +many more ambitious works.--_St. James's Gazette_ (London). + +The work is written in admirable English--even the blank verse is +perfect. The story of Harichendra alone is worth the cost of the +volume.--_Literary World_ (London). + +We have read with great pleasure the book, "Life in an Indian Village," +as it deals with an interesting and not at all unimportant subject in a +plain and unpretending way. Simplicity has a powerful charm of its own; +and we recommend the book to all whose heart can still be touched by +inartificial descriptions of idyllic, gently flowing, country life. He +who does not assume the tone of "India, what can it teach us?" but cares +to profit by teaching, will learn a great deal even from these simple +village tales.--_Asiatic Quarterly Review_ (London). + +What more England can do for India is admirably and tersely set forth in +the Introduction, which, with Mr. Ramakrishna's pleasant description of +Indian village life, deserves to be widely read.--_Mr. J.B. Knight, +C.I.E., in the Indian Magazine_ (London). + +Books about India by intelligent travellers have their uses, and books +by Europeans who have lived for years in the country and studied the +people are still more valuable, but it is only a native of India who can +really show us Indian life as it is. There are already several books in +English, by educated Indians, which give us valuable insight into what +was once the unknown of Indian domestic and social life. Mr. T. +Ramakrishna, whose "Life in an Indian Village" is introduced to the +notice of the British public by Sir M.E. Grant Duff, has produced a +series of very interesting sketches of the more important features of +village life in the South of India. They will be found to be very +readable, sometimes amusing, always interesting and instructive. Any +one who reads this book with intelligence and care will be able to form +for himself a very accurate picture of a Madras village, and to +understand the composition of the village community, which is the basis +of the whole framework of Indian social life.--_Scotsman_ (Edinburgh). + +Mr. Ramakrishna's book is picturesque and sympathetic.--_Manchester +Guardian_. + +A well-written book, and one which gives a realistic description of a +condition of life which is the outcome of centuries of +isolation,--_Leeds Mercury_. + +It is not an easy thing to acquire a clear conception of a life and a +civilisation other in every respect to our own, and it may be reasonably +questioned if one Englishman in a thousand has more than a very vague +idea of what life in an Indian village is like. Here is a pleasant and +graphic little volume. He may acquire that knowledge from the sketches +of an Indian gentleman who knows the subject through and through, and +has, moreover, so much of European culture that he is able to present +the facts in a form that will not seem strange or +incredible.--_Birmingham Post_. + +A volume issued by Mr. T. Fisher Unwin, "Life in an Indian Village," is +a sample of the kind of book relating to our Eastern Empire that we +should like to see multiplied. It is the production of a scholarly +native, T. Ramakrishna, B.A., who writes excellent idiomatic English +without the slightest tendency to Johnsonian eloquence.--_Christian +Leader_ (Glasgow). + +The manners and customs of the people are vividly reflected in these +pages, and a picturesque account is given of a number of notabilities, +such as the physician, &c.--_Speaker_ (London). + +The book cannot fail to fulfil the author's desire in exciting a deeper +interest in the people whom he so sympathetically introduces to the +British public.--_Independent_ (London). + +Written with much naďveté.--_British Weekly_ (London). + +The author of this book deserves our thanks and congratulations. Himself +a highly educated native of the Madras Presidency, he has drawn a series +of pictures of the village life of Southern India.... The occupations, +the recreations, the religion, the distribution of labour, the +recurrence of feast and festival, with much more, are all told in +amusing style and with such graphic power as to leave a vivid impression +upon the reader's mind.--_Bookseller_ (London). + +Madras should indulge some measure of pride in having turned out a +University graduate who can write the English language better than most +Englishmen. Ramakrishna's "Life in an Indian Village" is a charming +account of Dravidian homes and customs. It is the work of a young man +who has profited by Western enlightenment, and yet feels a kindly glow +in his heart for all that belongs to the humblest folk in his native +land. His sympathy is beautiful, because it is devoid of any pretence or +forced pathos. His language is choice, yet simply constructed. There is +real literary flavour about this work, which has just been published by +Fisher Unwin. When will the Punjab give us a young man who can feel and +think and write like this?--_Civil and Military Gazette_ (Lahore). + +Mr. T. Ramakrishna, a graduate of the Madras University, may be +congratulated on the success which seems likely to attend the +publication of his well-written little book on "Indian Village Life." +Judging by the comments that have appeared in the English papers, it is +just the kind of book the public at home wants, not too statistical to +be readable, and not too ambitious in design to be trustworthy, but just +a simple, picturesque account of the particular part of India which the +author really knows.--_London Correspondent of the Englishman_ +(Calcutta). + +The great virtue of Mr. Ramakrishna's writing is the absence of pretence +and fustian. Space is not wasted on ambitious and worthless descriptions +of scenery, or on vague disquisitions of a sentimental character. +Everywhere he is simple, straightforward, and effective.... Writing in +excellent English, and in unexceptionable style, he tells plainly and +simply what he has to say, and is the more successful because he is less +ambitious.... It is to be hoped that Mr. Ramakrishna's interesting +sketches of Southern Indian village life will obtain a wide circulation +in England. He is to be congratulated on having produced a work of no +little merit and originality.--_Madras Mail_. + +To doubters of the good results of Western education in this Presidency, +better proof could hardly be given than is provided. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Ind, by T. 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Ramakrishna. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + * { font-family: Times;} + P { font-size: 14pt; + text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + BODY { margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; } + A { color: #777777; + text-decoration: none } + BLOCKQUOTE { font-size: 14pt } + .poem P { padding-left: 3em; margin: 0px; text-indent: -3em } + .poem .stanza { margin-left: 1em } + .poem P.i2 { margin-left: 2em } + .poem P.i4 { margin-left: 4em } + .poem .caesura { vertical-align: -200% } + .note { margin-left: 2em; + margin-right: 2em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + // --> + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Ind, by T. Ramakrishna + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tales of Ind + And Other Poems + +Author: T. Ramakrishna + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [EBook #11096] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF IND *** + + + + +Produced by Christine De Ryck and the PG Online Distributed Proofreaders. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>TALES OF IND</h1><br> + +<h1><i>AND OTHER POEMS</i></h1> + + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>T. RAMAKRISHNA</h2> + + + +<h4>1896</h4><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="kamala"></a> +<blockquote> +TO<br> +THE MEMORY OF<br> +MY DEAR DAUGHTER<br> +KAMALA.</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p class="i4">The star that rose to cheer our humble life,</p> +<p class="i4">And make a little heaven of our home,</p> +<p class="i4">Shall rise again—yes, surely rise again</p> +<p class="i4">To give us everlasting joy divine.</p> +</div> +</div> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#kamala">TO MY DAUGHTER</a></p> +<p><a href="#lordten">LORD TENNYSON</a></p> +<p><a href="#seeta">SEETA AND RAMA—A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE</a></p> +<p><a href="#desing">THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING</a></p> +<p><a href="#rudra">THE STORY OF RUDRA</a></p> +<p><a href="#huntress">THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS</a></p> +<p><a href="#chandra">CHANDRA—A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKÓTA</a></p> +<p><a href="#korathy">THE KORATHY'S LULLABY</a></p> + +<br><br><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="lordten"></a> +<h2><i>LORD TENNYSON</i>.</h2> +<br><br> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A poet of my native land has said—</p> +<p>The life the good and virtuous lead on earth</p> +<p>Is like the black-eyed maiden of the East,</p> +<p>Who paints the lids to look more bright and fair.</p> +<p>The eyes may smart and water, but withal</p> +<p>She loves to please them that behold her face.</p> +<p>E'en so, my Master, thine own life has been.</p> +<p>Thy songs have pleased the world, thy thoughts divine</p> +<p>Have purified, likewise ennobled man.</p> +<p>And what are they, those songs and thoughts divine,</p> +<p>But sad experience of thy life, dipt deep</p> +<p>In thine own tears, and traced on nature's page?</p> +<p>To please and teach the world for two dear ones</p> +<p>You mourned—a friend in youth, a son in age</p> +<p>'Tis said the life that gives one moment's joy</p> +<p>To one lone mortal is not lived in vain;</p> +<p>But lives like thine God grants as shining lights</p> +<p>That we in darkness Him aright may see.</p> +<p>Nay more, such lives the more by ills beset</p> +<p>Do shine the more and better teach His ways.</p> +<p>Alas! thou'rt gone that wert so kind to one</p> +<p>Obscure—a stranger in a distant land.</p> +<p>Accept from him this wreath uncouth of words</p> +<p>Which do but half express the grief he feels.</p> +</div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> +<a name="seeta"></a><h2><i>SEETA AND RAMA</i>.</h2> + +<h2>A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE.</h2> +<br> +<br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was by far the loveliest scene in Ind:—</p> +<p>A deep sunk lonely vale, 'tween verdant hills</p> +<p>That, in eternal friendship, seemed to hold</p> +<p>Communion with the changing skies above;</p> +<p>Dark shady groves the haunts of shepherd boys</p> +<p>And wearied peasants in the midday noon;</p> +<p>A lake that shone in lustre clear and bright</p> +<p>Like a pure Indian diamond set amidst</p> +<p>Green emeralds, where every morn, with songs</p> +<p>Of parted lovers that tempted blooming maids</p> +<p>With pitchers on their heads to stay and hear</p> +<p>Those songs, the busy villagers of the vale</p> +<p>Their green fields watered that gave them sure hopes</p> +<p>Of future plenty and of future joys.</p> +<p>Oh, how uncertain man's sure hopes and joys!</p> +<p>In this enchanted hollow that was scooped—</p> +<p>For so it seemed—by God's own mighty hand,</p> +<p>Where Nature shower'd her richest gifts to make</p> +<p>Another paradise, stood Krishnapore</p> +<p>With her two score and seven huts reared by</p> +<p>The patient labour of her simple men.</p> +<br> +<p>In this blest hamlet one there was that owned</p> +<p>Its richest lands: beloved by all its men,</p> +<p>Their friend in times of need, their guide in life,</p> +<p>Partaker of their joys and woes as well,</p> +<p>The arbiter of all their petty strifes.</p> +<p>By him his friend the village master lived</p> +<p>That at his door a group of children taught;</p> +<p>A man he was well versed in ancient lore;</p> +<p>And oft at night, when ended was their toil,</p> +<p>The villagers with souls enraptured heard him</p> +<p>In fiery accents speak of Krishna's deeds</p> +<p>And Rama's warlike skill, and wondered that</p> +<p>He knew so well the deities they adored.</p> +<p>One only daughter this schoolmaster had,</p> +<p>And Seeta was her name, the prettiest maid</p> +<p>In all the village, nursed by the fond cares</p> +<p>Of her indulgent sire, and loved with all</p> +<p>The tender feelings that pure love inspires</p> +<p>By the rich villager's only son, the heir</p> +<p>Of all his father's wealth; the best at school,</p> +<p>The boldest of the village youths at play,</p> +<p>And the delight of all those that saw him;</p> +<p>And these seemed such a fitting pair that oft</p> +<p>The secret whisper round the village ran</p> +<p>That Seeta was to wed the rich man's son.</p> +<p>Thus, in this Eden, its blest inmates lived</p> +<p>And passed their days, the villagers at the fields,</p> +<p>Their busy women at the blazing hearths,</p> +<p>The village master at his cottage door,</p> +<p>And Rama and fair Seeta in true love.</p> +<br> +<p>Hither a monster came, that slowly sucked</p> +<p>The vigour, the very life of Krishnapore.</p> +<p>The brilliant lustre of the diamond lake,</p> +<p>The emerald greenness of the waving fields,</p> +<p>The shady groves and pleasant cottage grounds,</p> +<p>And all the beauties of the happy vale</p> +<p>Soon vanished imperceptibly, as if</p> +<p>Some unconsuming furnace underneath</p> +<p>Had baked the earth and rendered it all bare,</p> +<p>Until its inmates wandered desolate,</p> +<p>With hollow cheeks, sunk eyes, and haggard faces,</p> +<p>Like walking skeletons pasted o'er with skin.</p> +<p>No more would blooming girls with pitchers laden</p> +<p>Repair to the clear lake while curling smoke</p> +<p>Rose from their cottage roofs; no more at morn</p> +<p>Would Rama be the first at school to see</p> +<p>His Seeta deck her father's house with flowers;</p> +<p>No more at eve the village master pour</p> +<p>From Hindu lore the mighty deeds of gods</p> +<p>To the delighted ears of simple men;</p> +<p>For these have left their lands and their dear homes.</p> +<p>And Seeta with her father left her cot,</p> +<p>And cast behind, with a deep, heavy sigh,</p> +<p>One ling'ring look upon that vale where she</p> +<p>Was born and fondly nursed,—where glided on</p> +<p>Her days in pleasure and pure innocence,—</p> +<p>Where Rama lived and loved her tenderly.</p> +<p>Her father died of hunger on the way,</p> +<p>And the lone creature wandered in the streets</p> +<p>Of towns from door to door, and vainly begged</p> +<p>For food, till some, deep moved by the sad tales</p> +<p>Of the lone straggler, safely lodged her in</p> +<p>A famine camp, where, heavy laden with</p> +<p>A double sorrow (for her lover too,</p> +<p>She thought, had died), her tedious life she spent.</p> +<p>And days and weeks and months thus rolled away,</p> +<p>Until at last her love for the dead youth</p> +<p>Mysterious waned, and, like a shallow lamp,</p> +<p>Burnt in her breast with nothing to feed it.</p> +<br> +<p>One day the news went through the famine shed</p> +<p>That a lean youth, plucked from the very arms</p> +<p>Of cruel death, was tenderly nursed there;</p> +<p>And all its inmates hurried to the scene.</p> +<p>Poor Seeta saw the youth, and that sad sight</p> +<p>She ne'er forgot; the youth was in her mind</p> +<p>Too firmly rooted to be rooted out,</p> +<p>Who ev'ry day in strength and beauty grew, till he</p> +<p>Appeared the fairest youth in all the camp.</p> +<p>First pity for the youth, then love for him</p> +<p>Mysterious came to her, until at last</p> +<p>The flick'ring flame shone sudden in her breast.</p> +<p>"This stranger I must wed, for him I love,</p> +<p>I know not how; that pleasant face is like</p> +<p>The face of him I dearly loved; I see</p> +<p>Appearing ev'ry day upon that face,</p> +<p>As if by magic wrought, those beauties that</p> +<p>Were seated on dead Rama's face." Thus mused</p> +<p>This maiden of the camp, and the fair youth</p> +<p>Thus kindled in her breast the hidden flame</p> +<p>Of love and fed it ever with new strength,</p> +<p>Which shone again in all its purity.</p> +<br> +<p>As the moon whose effulgence hidden lies</p> +<p>When dimmed by clouds, suddenly blazes forth</p> +<p>And in her wonted beauty shines again</p> +<p>What time she darts into the cloudless vault,</p> +<p>So shone again in lovely Seeta's breast</p> +<p>The lamp of love by clouds of sorrow dimmed.</p> +<p>The smothered passion suddenly blazed forth</p> +<p>In brighter lustre, and to her returned</p> +<p>With double force, as when the flaming fire</p> +<p>Is smothered when more fuel is on it thrown,</p> +<p>And straightway flames and gives a brighter light.</p> +<br> +<p>At last the monster left the land, the camp</p> +<p>Was broke, its inmates left it for their homes.</p> +<p>England, would that one of thy sons were there</p> +<p>To hear what words, what blessings now burst from</p> +<p>Their inward hearts for nursing them when they</p> +<p>From all estranged had poured into thine arms!</p> +<p>Poor Seeta hastened to the youth she loved,</p> +<p>And to him with a gladdened heart thus spake:—</p> +<p>Her rosy lips, just oped to speak, were like</p> +<p>A half-blown rosebud blossoming all at once;</p> +<p>Such magic was wrought on her ere she spake:</p> +<p>"Kind stranger, whither goest thou? I am</p> +<p>A lonely maiden, and friends I have none;</p> +<p>And thee alone I trust as my safe guide</p> +<p>To Krishnapore."<span class="caesura">"Dear maid! thy sorrows cease;</span></p> +<p>My way now lies through Krishnapore: fear not,</p> +<p>I shall restore thee to thy home and friends;</p> +<p>Trust me as your safe guide and dearest friend."</p> +<p>She, overjoyed, recounted to the youth</p> +<p>Her tale—how she, her father's only hope</p> +<p>And pride, reluctant left their native vale</p> +<p>And cottage home; how he died on the way,</p> +<p>And she, a lonely creature, wandered in</p> +<p>The streets from door to door and begged for food;</p> +<p>How she was taken to the famine camp;</p> +<p>How he, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes,</p> +<p>Was brought one day and there nursed tenderly;</p> +<p>And how in beauty ev'ry day he grew</p> +<p>Until like her dead Rama he appeared.</p> +<p>The village youth, unable any more</p> +<p>Now to suppress him, suddenly exclaimed,</p> +<p>"Look here, whose name is on this arm tattooed?"</p> +<p>"O Rama, Krishna, Govinda, and all</p> +<p>Ye Gods that I adore, ye have blest me;</p> +<p>This is the happiest moment in my life,</p> +<p>And this the happiest spot in all the earth,</p> +<p>For now my long-lost Rama I have found."</p> +<p>So saying, she intently gazed on him.</p> +<br> +<p>As a rich mine pours forth its hidden wealth</p> +<p>To the delight of those that day and night</p> +<p>Court eagerly its treasures them t' enrich;</p> +<p>So from this lovely pair's deep mine of feelings,</p> +<p>What honeyed words escaped now through their lips</p> +<p>To their intense joy, better far than all</p> +<p>The treasures any ample mine bestows!</p> +<p>With sweet talk they beguiled their tedious way;</p> +<p>The verdant hills sublime rose to the view;</p> +<p>The broad lake glittered diamond-like again;</p> +<p>And wreathing smoke curled from the cottage roofs;</p> +<p>The lovely vale became the lovely vale</p> +<p>Again, and all the long forgotten scenes</p> +<p>In quick succession flowed before them both;</p> +<p>And never was a happier marriage seen</p> +<p>In all that happy vale of Krishnapore.</p> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="desing"></a><h2><i>THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING</i>.</h2> +<br><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was the month of May, and glorious rose</p> +<p>The sun on Jinji, bathing in his light</p> +<p>Her lofty hills, her ancient walls and towers,</p> +<p>Her battlements, and all the glittering scene</p> +<p>That bade the stranger tell—"here lives a prince;"</p> +<p>And greeting late, as if too long he slept</p> +<p>Upon his ocean bed, the eager crowd</p> +<p>That in their best attire at early dawn</p> +<p>Fast gathered from their hamlets far and wide,</p> +<p>And like a hive swarmed on the castled hills.</p> +<br> +<p>Perhaps some village poet waited there,</p> +<p>Who day and night toiled hard in metres rare</p> +<p>To sing the deeds and virtues of his prince</p> +<p>And trace them on the leaves of that lone palm</p> +<p>Which stood close by his humble cottage home.</p> +<p>Perhaps with faces that bespoke deep grief</p> +<p>A troop of farmers there had come to tell</p> +<p>To their sport-loving prince the havoc wrought</p> +<p>Upon their toiling cattle by wild beasts</p> +<p>That nightly from their hill abodes came down</p> +<p>To feast on them. And in that motley crowd</p> +<p>Were servants of the state and many more</p> +<p>Who long had waited merely for a glimpse</p> +<p>Of their just ruler Désing holding court.</p> +<br> +<p>But soon there echoed through the lofty hills</p> +<p>The sound of th' Indian bugle and the drum</p> +<p>Proclaiming the arrival of the prince;</p> +<p>And often, as the new flood rushing down</p> +<p>With the still waters of a sleeping stream,</p> +<p>Leaves nought behind, and all is vacancy,</p> +<p>Or as the dim light of a shallow lamp</p> +<p>Suddenly blazes forth and soon is quenched,</p> +<p>So louder rose the clamour of the crowd</p> +<p>At the sound of the bugle and the drum,</p> +<p>Then straightway in deep silence died away,</p> +<p>And perfect stillness reigned everywhere.</p> +<br> +<p>Upon his gorgeous throne sat Jinji's prince</p> +<p>With servants fanning him on either side;</p> +<p>And in a place of honour sate in that</p> +<p>Capacious hall his holy Brahmin priest,</p> +<p>The master of his well-trained army there,</p> +<p>The chief and trusted min'ster of the state,</p> +<p>The aged poet that his praises sang,</p> +<p>The sage that, versed in all the starry lore,</p> +<p>His royal master's fortunes daily told;</p> +<p>The painter that adorned those ancient walls,</p> +<p>And countless other servants of the prince</p> +<p>There gathered each in his accustomed seat.</p> +<br> +<p>Then from the gate approached a trusty page,</p> +<p>And said with folded hands and trembling lips—</p> +<p>"O royal master, at the gate there waits</p> +<p>A man of noble mien from the far north</p> +<p>Requesting audience on affairs of state."</p> +<p>"Conduct him to our presence," said the prince.</p> +<p>The stranger came,—upon the floor he knelt</p> +<p>And said—"Thou mighty prince of these fair lands,</p> +<p>I come from Arcot, and the Nabob sent</p> +<p>His humble servant to demand of thee</p> +<p>Thy dues which these five years thou hast not paid.</p> +<p>Know, then, if these are not now duly paid,</p> +<p>From thee he will these broad dominions wrest,</p> +<p>And give them those who will his rule obey."</p> +<p>The angry prince made answer—"Go and tell</p> +<p>Your master that his vain threats move us not,</p> +<p>Say we will gladly meet him on the field."</p> +<p>So saying, from his royal seat he rose,</p> +<p>And to his palace instantly withdrew.</p> +<br> +<p>As when a stone dropped in the middle of</p> +<p>A placid pool its slumb'ring waters wakes,</p> +<p>And the calm surface is all ruffled seen,</p> +<p>Or at the merest touch of ruthless man</p> +<p>Bent on the honeyed treasures of the hive</p> +<p>Those myriad ones leave murm'ring to the foe</p> +<p>Their hoarded wealth to which they fondly clung,</p> +<p>So scattered to their distant native homes</p> +<p>The bustling crowd that met on Jinji's hills,</p> +<p>When he of Arcot came to mar their joys.</p> +<br> +<p>And days and months rolled on until one day</p> +<p>To Désing came his loyal spy and said—</p> +<p>"My noble ruler, on the other side</p> +<p>Of the fair stream that runs through yonder plain,</p> +<p>There waits our foe of Arcot with his men:</p> +<p>Prepare to go and meet him on the field."</p> +<p>'Twas even time—the warrior prince soon wrote</p> +<p>To Mamood Khan, the master of his troops,</p> +<p>To hasten to his country's duty first.</p> +<p>What though it was that soldier's bridal hour,</p> +<p>When he received his royal master's call!</p> +<p>"My country's welfare first, then my fair spouse,"</p> +<p>He said, and leapt upon his faithful steed</p> +<p>And stood, ere morn had streaked the eastern sky,</p> +<p>Before his lord his bidding to obey.</p> +<br> +<p>The prince rose early on that fated day</p> +<p>And to the temple of his God repaired,</p> +<p>There to invoke His blessing on the field.</p> +<p>Then to the palace hastened he to meet,</p> +<p>Ere he went forth to fight, his youthful wife,</p> +<p>Who day by day in beauty grew amidst</p> +<p>A score of maidens, like the waxing moon;</p> +<p>And, with a screen of silk between, they met.</p> +<p>As one lured by the fragrance of the rose</p> +<p>Stoops down gently to lift the truant stalk</p> +<p>That to the other side of the thick hedge</p> +<p>Shoots out alone from its own parent stem,</p> +<p>So fondly down stooped Jinji's noble prince</p> +<p>To kiss the jewelled arm of his fair spouse</p> +<p>Which through the screen she offered to her lord.</p> +<p>Prince Désing was the first who silence broke.</p> +<p>"My dear wife! on the day when we were wed</p> +<p>These eyes of mine had not e'en this arm seen,</p> +<p>Although on the same bridal seat we sat.</p> +<p>The screen which by the custom of our race</p> +<p>Was drawn by cruel hands hid thee from view.</p> +<p>So wondrous fair this arm looks that methinks</p> +<p>Rare beauties must be seated on thy face.</p> +<p>My foe hath come; fear not; I go to fight,</p> +<p>And come with honours loaded from the field,</p> +<p>A victor to rejoice with thee to-night</p> +<p>At the propitious hour which, by the aid</p> +<p>Of all his starry lore, our Brahmin sage</p> +<p>Hath for our nuptials named,—to gaze and scan</p> +<p>In silent joy what charms, what beauties rare</p> +<p>The hand divine has showered upon thy face,</p> +<p>And to recount to thee, when with thine own</p> +<p>My arm in friendship plays, what blood it shed,</p> +<p>What havoc in the Moslem camp it wrought.</p> +<p>So let me now depart." To which the Queen:</p> +<p>"I was the only daughter of my sire,</p> +<p>And cradled in his sinewy arms I grew;</p> +<p>And when upon his warrior breast I laid</p> +<p>My head to sleep, my mother by his side</p> +<p>Lulled me with songs of how in days gone by</p> +<p>The martial women of our noble race</p> +<p>Went with their husbands by their side to fight;</p> +<p>And one so nursed fears not the Moslem foe.</p> +<p>But now, alas! some evil it forebodes</p> +<p>That thou shouldst on this day go forth to fight."</p> +<br> +<p>And as she spoke tears trickled down his eyes,</p> +<p>And one, a pearly drop, stole to her palm.</p> +<p>She felt it: instantly her hand withdrew,</p> +<p>And then began to speak in words like these:</p> +<p>"It is not meet that Jinji's valiant prince</p> +<p>Should like a child at this last hour shed tears</p> +<p>And fear to meet his foe; fear not, my lord,</p> +<p>To meet him like a soldier on the field.</p> +<p>If thou a victor comest from the fight,</p> +<p>We shall in joy spend our first nuptial night,</p> +<p>But if thou comest routed from the field,</p> +<p>I never more will see thy timid face</p> +<p>Or think that thou art born of Kshatriya race.</p> +<p>And if thou fallest bravely fighting, then</p> +<p>Remember, Prince, thou hast in me a wife</p> +<p>Who will not let thee pass from earth alone.</p> +<p>Go forth and like a warrior meet the foe.</p> +<p>But fear not; Runga will be on our side,</p> +<p>So ere thou goest kiss this hand of mine</p> +<p>Which from thine eyes that precious tear has sought."</p> +<p>So saying, this brave Rajput girl once more</p> +<p>To Désing offered through the screen her hand.</p> +<p>He lifted it and reverently kissed,</p> +<p>Then sallied forth resolved to win or die.</p> +<br> +<p>Fierce raged the battle, but the hapless prince</p> +<p>Was weak to meet his foeman's myriad host;</p> +<p>And Mamood Khan fell bravely lighting there,</p> +<p>And with him many of his valiant men.</p> +<p>The faithful steed that through all perils bore</p> +<p>The prince was slain, and soon he fought on foot.</p> +<p>But ere the foe could capture him alive,</p> +<p>He hurled his heavy dagger, bared his breast,</p> +<p>And instantly a lifeless corpse he fell.</p> +<p>A few brave soldiers bore him from the field.</p> +<p>They hastened to the castle and before</p> +<p>The widowed Queen their precious burden laid.</p> +<p>She, nothing daunted, orders gave at once</p> +<p>That her attendants should prepare the pyre;</p> +<p>And then to her assembled men thus spake:</p> +<p>"My faithful men and my brave soldiers! you</p> +<p>Who with my lord fought nobly on the field,</p> +<p>I see you all weep at our hapless fate.</p> +<p>'Tis God has willed we thus should end our lives.</p> +<p>But a worse fate shall surely soon befall</p> +<p>Our cruel foe—howe'er exulting now.</p> +<p>Weep not—there soon shall dawn another day</p> +<p>When from the farthest end of this vast globe</p> +<p>A race for valour and for virtue famed</p> +<p>Shall wrest his kingdom from his ruthless hands,</p> +<p>And everywhere your sons and your sons' sons</p> +<p>Shall lasting peace and happiness enjoy.</p> +<p>Be witness to the curse pronounced by me,</p> +<p>A widowed maiden at the hour of death,</p> +<p>Thou setting Sun and thou, O rising Moon!"</p> +<br> +<p>Then as a bride in all her glory decked</p> +<p>Approaches with a gladdened heart t' embrace</p> +<p>Th' expectant bridegroom on the nuptial bed,</p> +<p>E'en so ascended this fair Queen the pyre,</p> +<p>And there embracing lay by her dear lord.</p> +<p>The fire was lighted and the pyre was closed,</p> +<p>And speedily to ashes were reduced</p> +<p>The lifeless husband and the living wife.</p> +<p>The Moslem came—heard of the death she died</p> +<p>Amid the flames, repented of his deed,</p> +<p>And, it is said, he built a lordly town<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a></p> +<p>In honour of the Queen, who counted it,</p> +<p>A sin her noble husband to survive,</p> +<p>And in a moment flung her life away.</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p>FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a><div class=note> Ranipett.</div><br> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="rudra"></a><h2><i>THE STORY OF RUDRA</i>.</h2> +<br><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>A deep calm sea; on the blue waters toiled,</p> +<p>From morn till eve, the simple fishermen;</p> +<p>And, on the beach, there stood a group of huts</p> +<p>Before whose gates old men sat mending nets</p> +<p>And eyed with secret joy the little boys</p> +<p>That gaily gambolled on the sandy beach</p> +<p>Regardless of their parents' daily toils.</p> +<p>And all the busy women left their homes</p> +<p>And their young ones with baskets on their heads</p> +<p>Filled with the finny treasures of the deep.</p> +<br> +<p>A thousand yards to landward rose a town</p> +<p>With its broad streets, high roofs, and busy marts.</p> +<p>An ancient temple in the centre stood,</p> +<p>Where to his servant Nandi once appeared</p> +<p>Great Siva, it is said, in human frame.</p> +<p>E'en learned saints sang of the holy shrine;</p> +<p>And to this sacred spot from far-off lands</p> +<p>For adoration countless pilgrims came</p> +<p>And men to buy all rarest things that poured</p> +<p>Into her busy marts from foreign parts.</p> +<br> +<p>Here in this ancient port of Nundipore</p> +<p>In royal splendour lived a merchant youth,</p> +<p>Who scarce had reached his one-and-twentieth year.</p> +<p>His aged father had but lately died</p> +<p>And left him the sole heir of all his wealth.</p> +<p>And Rudra—for that was the brave youth's name—</p> +<p>Had heard from infant days full many tales</p> +<p>Of how his grandsire and his sire had braved</p> +<p>The perils of the deep in search of gold,</p> +<p>And in his bosom fondly nurtured hopes</p> +<p>To travel likewise on the dang'rous sea.</p> +<p>And oft would he to Rati, his fair wife,</p> +<p>Exulting tell how wisely he would trade</p> +<p>In foreign shores and with rare gems return;</p> +<p>How even princes, by those gems allured,</p> +<p>To court his friendship come from distant lands,</p> +<p>And he dictate his own high terms to them,</p> +<p>And thus add glory to his glorious house.</p> +<p>And often would she vainly plead in turn</p> +<p>Her desolate position and her youth.</p> +<p>And her dear lord implore upon her knees</p> +<p>For ever to dismiss his cherished thoughts</p> +<p>And turn to her and to their lordly wealth</p> +<p>Which God had given them, to live in peace.</p> +<p>Thus wrangled for some months the timid wife</p> +<p>And he whom woman's charms could not subdue</p> +<p>Until at last arrived th' appointed day.</p> +<p>The little ship was waiting in the port,</p> +<p>And Rudra to his youthful wife repaired</p> +<p>His purpose to disclose; and as at times</p> +<p>Clouds hover over us and darken all</p> +<p>The sky for days, and still no rain descends—</p> +<p>But suddenly when least expected comes—</p> +<p>So she to whom her husband's parting lay</p> +<p>In words saw it burst in reality.</p> +<br> +<p>He said, "Dear Rati! well thou knowest how</p> +<p>I fondly wish to trade in distant realms.</p> +<p>The time has come for me to part from thee.</p> +<p>This morn a little ship was sighted here,</p> +<p>And she is riding yonder on the sea.</p> +<p>And ere the setting sun sinks down to rest</p> +<p>Into the western waves the little bark</p> +<p>Now destined to take me will leave the port;</p> +<p>And I have therefore one, but one short hour.</p> +<p>'Tis willed by Him above that I should soon</p> +<p>Bid farewell to the place where I was born,</p> +<p>Where all my thoughts for ever centred lie,—</p> +<p>Soon part from all that to my heart is dear,</p> +<p>But soon come richer, greater to my home,</p> +<p>To spend my days in joy and happiness.</p> +<p>Dear wife! allow me therefore to depart."</p> +<br> +<p>To which the wife—"Dear husband, sad it is</p> +<p>To me to think that thou shouldst part from me;</p> +<p>But sadder still the thought that thou shouldst go</p> +<p>On seas to roam in lands unknown and strange,</p> +<p>And canst not tell when to this spot return.</p> +<p>There is our lordly mansion here; there is</p> +<p>Our wealth, and here I am thy youthful wife.</p> +<p>Why go away and risk thy precious life</p> +<p>While we enjoy our days like king and queen?</p> +<p>Why leave me here to pine away in grief</p> +<p>And loneliness? Without my lord it is</p> +<p>Half death to me, and I would rather die</p> +<p>Than see him part; hence banish from thy mind</p> +<p>All thoughts of going and stay here with me."</p> +<br> +<p>"My wife!" he said, "why cherish idle fears?</p> +<p>The holy Brahmin whom thou knowest well,</p> +<p>So deeply versed in all the starry lore,</p> +<p>Tells me that I am fated to return.</p> +<p>It is an evil omen that thou shouldst,</p> +<p>Lamenting, hinder me at this last hour</p> +<p>And tell me not to go. Send me away</p> +<p>With thy good wishes, I will soon return.</p> +<p>By Him above that rules man's destinies,</p> +<p>By mother earth, by yonder setting sun,</p> +<p>The moon that shines up in the starry heav'ns,</p> +<p>By all that to his heart is sacred deemed,</p> +<p>And lastly by his sire whose picture hangs</p> +<p>On the wall there, thy husband Rudra swears</p> +<p>That after he returns he'll stay with thee,</p> +<p>And nevermore e'en think of leaving thee,</p> +<p>And let him therefore go in peace of mind."</p> +<br> +<p>"If it is true," replied the crying maid,</p> +<p>"That Sita followed Rama to the woods,</p> +<p>And that she of the Pandus also shared</p> +<p>With them their toils—if ever woman's charms</p> +<p>Had power to move the adamantine heart</p> +<p>Of man, then let thy Rati go with thee</p> +<p>To share with thee thy joys and woes as well.</p> +<p>If thou shouldst go alone, remember then,</p> +<p>Dear lord, the sin rests solely on thy head</p> +<p>That a young maiden has been left alone</p> +<p>To mourn for ever for her husband on</p> +<p>The seas—and all for gold and for a name."</p> +<br> +<p>"A <i>name</i> thou sayest—never, never would</p> +<p>Thy Rudra die unhonoured and unknown</p> +<p>And bear the evil name and the reproach</p> +<p>For ever with his sons and his sons' sons,</p> +<p>That of his old illustrious family</p> +<p>He was the only one that feared to go</p> +<p>Upon the sea. The sun is going down,</p> +<p>And cruel darkness is invading fast</p> +<p>On us; and soon the ship will leave the port.</p> +<p>Within a year thou shalt see me again.</p> +<p>But if 'tis ruled by God that I should not</p> +<p>Return, to one thing listen ere I go.</p> +<p>To soothe thy spirits in a few short months</p> +<p>An infant will be lying on thy lap,</p> +<p>And if a daughter she should be, let her</p> +<p>Be married to one worthy of our race.</p> +<p>But if a son is born tend him with care;</p> +<p>When he grows old, let it be said of him</p> +<p>That he is his lost father's worthy son."</p> +<p>And when the few last awful words were spoke</p> +<p>The frighted wife that stood supported by</p> +<p>Her lord at once grew pale and motionless.</p> +<p>As one that watched with anxious care the growth</p> +<p>Of a young tendril slowly fixes it</p> +<p>Upon a new and stronger prop, e'en so</p> +<p>Brave Rudra extricated himself from</p> +<p>Her grasp and gently placed her on the couch;</p> +<p>Then gazed on her for a few moments with</p> +<p>His hands upon her throbbing temples, kissed</p> +<p>Her brow, and straightway vanished from the room.</p> +<br> +<p>And now the little ship in which he sailed</p> +<p>Safe bore the crew along the wat'ry waste,</p> +<p>And after twenty days' fast sailing she</p> +<p>Encountered on the way a storm, was wrecked,</p> +<p>And all save Rudra perished in the waves.</p> +<p>The shipwrecked merchant lost all that he had,</p> +<p>And wandered through a distant country with</p> +<p>No friends, no money but his hands to earn</p> +<p>For him his daily bread: the lonely youth</p> +<p>Thus dragged for years his miserable life</p> +<p>With nothing to make it worth living save</p> +<p>The hope, the only hope, to see his wife;</p> +<p>Till at the end of twenty years a ship</p> +<p>Was sighted that was bound for Nundipore.</p> +<p>In it he sailed and safely landed in</p> +<p>His native port. It was the midday noon;</p> +<p>He saw the selfsame fishing village that</p> +<p>Stood years ago upon the sandy beach,</p> +<p>And with a joyful heart he hastened to</p> +<p>His house which all deserted seemed; inside</p> +<p>With falt'ring steps he went, and on the walls</p> +<p>Of the big hall were hanging pictures of</p> +<p>His sire, of Krishna playing on the flute,</p> +<p>Of Rama, Siva, and the other gods</p> +<p>Whom in his childhood days his house adored,</p> +<p>And seemed as they were drawn but yesterday;</p> +<p>A thousand other old familiar scenes</p> +<p>In quick succession passed before his eyes,</p> +<p>Then quickly passed into a room, where lo!</p> +<p>There slept a youth and she for whom for years</p> +<p>Life's toils he patient bore. As one born blind</p> +<p>Had after years of pray'r the gift of sight</p> +<p>Vouchsafed to him by God, his Maker, to</p> +<p>Behold the beauties of the universe,</p> +<p>His wife, his children, and those dear to him,</p> +<p>But straightway feels the precious gift withdrawn;</p> +<p>Or as a lonely bird that unawares</p> +<p>Has wandered far into the deep blue sea</p> +<p>Finds nothing but a wat'ry waste all round,</p> +<p>And knows not where to rest its wearied limbs,</p> +<p>But at a distance kens at last a ship</p> +<p>To which with doubled speed it flies and flies,</p> +<p>And there discerns a seaman with his bow</p> +<p>Preventing it from sitting on the mast—</p> +<p>So Rudra felt. "Is this my wife?" he thought.</p> +<p>"Yes, by the mole upon her cheek she is;</p> +<p>And beauty, spite of age, still lingers on</p> +<p>Her face, and this fair youth, attracted by</p> +<p>Her charms, came here. Why hast Thou brought me home,</p> +<p>O God! why was I not drowned in the sea?</p> +<p>Why did I leave that distant country where</p> +<p>These twenty years I toiled for bread and lived?</p> +<p>And why was I not spared this ghastly sight?</p> +<p>No, Rati! never would thy husband bear</p> +<p>To see thee lying with another man.</p> +<p>First he will kill you both, then die himself."</p> +<p>So saying, from a sheath a blade he drew,</p> +<p>When lo! there fell the piece of a palm leaf</p> +<p>Whereon were writ—<i>think well before you do</i>.</p> +<p>"This is," he said, "my father's dying gift;</p> +<p>By the advice here giv'n I will abide,"</p> +<p>Then woke his wife, and in firm tones thus asked,</p> +<p>"Who is this youth that has defiled my bed?</p> +<p>Speak ere I strike you both." The wond'ring wife</p> +<p>The dagger and the stranger saw and cried—</p> +<p>"Kill me alone, but spare my only son."</p> +<p>"Thy only son!" he said; "now wake him up,</p> +<p>And let us all adore our Maker first,</p> +<p>Who saved us from my frenzy, which in one</p> +<p>Short moment would have shattered all our bliss."</p> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="huntress"></a><h2><i>THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS</i>.</h2> +<br><br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>It was a land of plenty and of wealth;</p> +<p>There God's indulgent hand made for a race</p> +<p>Supremely blest a paradise on earth.</p> +<p>A land of virtue, truth, and charity,</p> +<p>Where nature's choicest treasures man enjoyed</p> +<p>With little toil, where youth respected age,</p> +<p>Where each his neighbour's wife his sister deemed,</p> +<p>Where side by side the tiger and the lamb</p> +<p>The water drank, and sported oft in mirth.</p> +<p>A land where each man deemed him highly blest</p> +<p>When he relieved the miseries of the poor,</p> +<p>When to his roof the wearied traveller came</p> +<p>To share his proffered bounty with good cheer.</p> +<p>Such was the far-famed land of Panchala.</p> +<br> +<p>Here reigned a king who walked in virtue's path,</p> +<p>Who ruled his country only for his God.</p> +<p>His people's good he deemed his only care,</p> +<p>Their sorrows were his sorrows, and their joys</p> +<p>He counted as his own; such was the king</p> +<p>Whose daily prayers went up to Him on high</p> +<p>For wisdom and for strength to rule his men</p> +<p>Aright, and guard the land from foreign foes.</p> +<p>Such was the far-famed king of Panchala.</p> +<br> +<p>An only son he had—a noble prince,</p> +<p>The terror of his foes, the poor man's friend.</p> +<p>He mastered all the arts of peace and war,</p> +<p>And was a worthy father's worthy son.</p> +<p>What gifts and graces men as beauties deem</p> +<p>These Nature freely lavished on the youth,</p> +<p>And people loved in wonder to behold</p> +<p>The face that kindled pleasure in their minds.</p> +<p>The courage of a warrior in the field,</p> +<p>A woman's tender pity to the weak—</p> +<p>All these were centred in the royal youth.</p> +<p>His arrows killed full many a beast that wrought</p> +<p>Dread havoc on the cattle of the poor.</p> +<p>Such was the famous prince of Panchala.</p> +<br> +<p>The people, they were all true men and good,</p> +<p>Their ruler they adored, for by their God</p> +<p>He was ordained to rule their native land.</p> +<p>They freely to their king made known their wants,</p> +<p>And he as freely satisfied their needs,</p> +<p>And e'en the meanest of the land deemed it</p> +<p>The basest act to sin against his king.</p> +<p>Such were the people of the ancient land</p> +<p>Of Panchala, who stood one day with tears</p> +<p>Before their king to pour their plaintive tales</p> +<p>Of ruin wrought upon their cattle by</p> +<p>The tiger of the forest, that all day</p> +<p>Was safe in his impenetrable lair,</p> +<p>But every night his dreaded figure showed</p> +<p>And feasted on the flesh of toiling beasts.</p> +<br> +<p>The king gave ear to their sad tales of woe,</p> +<p>And straightway called his only son, and said—</p> +<p>"Dear son! my people's good I value more</p> +<p>Than thine own life. Go therefore to the woods</p> +<p>With all thine arrows and thy trusty bow,</p> +<p>And drag the dreaded tiger from his den,</p> +<p>And to their homes their wonted peace restore.</p> +<p>His spotted skin and murderous claws must soon</p> +<p>Be added to the trophies of the past,</p> +<p>Now hanging on our ancient palace walls."</p> +<p>The prince obeyed, and to the forest went:</p> +<p>Three days and nights he wandered in the woods,</p> +<p>But still found not the object of his search.</p> +<p>He missed his faithful men and lost his way,</p> +<p>Till worn and weary underneath a tree,</p> +<p>Whose shady boughs extended far and wide,</p> +<p>The lonely straggler stretched his limbs and slept,</p> +<p>And for a time forgot his dire distress.</p> +<br> +<p>He woke, and thus addressed himself with tears:</p> +<p>"Here I am left deserted and alone,</p> +<p>Perchance my faithful people at this hour</p> +<p>Are vainly searching for their hapless prince,</p> +<p>While I die here of hunger and of thirst.</p> +<p>And gladly would I welcome now the brute</p> +<p>That has attracted me to this strange spot,</p> +<p>To plunge his claws into my body, tear</p> +<p>My flesh, and break my bones, and feast on me</p> +<p>By gnawing them between his horrid jaws,</p> +<p>And so spare me from this slow lingering death."</p> +<br> +<p>So thought the royal youth of his sad doom,</p> +<p>When lo! a spotless figure, with a bow,</p> +<p>A pouch with arrows dangling on her back,</p> +<p>A hatchet in her hand for cutting wood,</p> +<p>And with a pitcher on her head, appeared.</p> +<p>Here every day she came to gather wood,</p> +<p>And, dressed in male attire, her heavy load</p> +<p>Took to the nearest town, sold it, then reached,</p> +<p>At close of day to cook the ev'ning meal,</p> +<p>Her cottage on the outskirts of the wood,</p> +<p>Where, with her sire, bent down with years, she lived,</p> +<p>And dragged her daily miserable life.</p> +<p>Such was the maid that was upon that day,</p> +<p>As if by instinct, drawn to the fair youth,</p> +<p>And such the huntress Radha he beheld.</p> +<p>A fairer woman never breathed the air—</p> +<p>No, not in all the land of Panchala.</p> +<br> +<p>The maid in pity saw his wretched plight,</p> +<p>Then from the pitcher took her midday meal,</p> +<p>And soon relieved his hunger and his thirst.</p> +<p>The grateful prince, delighted, told his tale,</p> +<p>And she, well pleased, thus spake: "Fair youth! grieve not,</p> +<p>Behold the brook that yonder steals along,</p> +<p>To this the tiger comes at noon to quench</p> +<p>His thirst. Then, safely perched upon a tree,</p> +<p>We can for ever check his deadly course,"</p> +<p>Both went, and saw at the expected hour</p> +<p>The monarch of the forest near the brook.</p> +<p>In quick succession, lightning-like from them</p> +<p>The arrows flew, and in a moment fell</p> +<p>His massive body lifeless on the ground.</p> +<p>Then vowing oft to meet his valiant friend,</p> +<p>The prince returned, and with the happy news</p> +<p>Appeared before the king, who blest his son</p> +<p>And said: "My son! well hast thou done the deed;</p> +<p>Thy life thou hast endangered for my men;</p> +<p>Ask anything and I will give it thee."</p> +<p>"I want not wealth nor power," the prince replied,</p> +<p>"But, noble father I one request I make.</p> +<p>I chanced to meet a huntress in the wood,</p> +<p>And Radha is her name; she saved my life.</p> +<p>I but for her had died a lingering death,</p> +<p>Her valour and her beauty I admire,</p> +<p>And therefore grant me leave to marry her."</p> +<br> +<p>The king spake not, but forthwith gave command</p> +<p>To banish from his home the reckless youth,</p> +<p>Who brought disgrace upon his royal house,</p> +<p>And who, he wished, should wed one worthy of</p> +<p>The noble race of ancient Panchala.</p> +<p>Poor youth! he left his country and his home,</p> +<p>He that was dreaded by his foes was gone.</p> +<br> +<p>Vain lust of power impelled the neighbouring king,</p> +<p>The traitor who usurped his sovereign's throne,</p> +<p>To march on Panchala with all his men.</p> +<p>He went, and to the helpless king proclaimed—</p> +<p>"Thou knowest well my armies are the best</p> +<p>On earth, and folly it will be in thee</p> +<p>To stand 'gainst them and shed thy people's blood.</p> +<p>Send forth thy greatest archer, and with him</p> +<p>My prowess I will try: this will decide</p> +<p>If you or I should sit upon the throne,</p> +<p>And whether Panchala is thine or mine."</p> +<p>The king, bewildered, knew not what to do,</p> +<p>But soon two maidens, strangers to the land,</p> +<p>Met him, and, of the two, the younger said—</p> +<p>"O righteous king! we left our distant homes</p> +<p>To visit shrines and bathe in holy streams.</p> +<p>We have been wandering in many climes,</p> +<p>And yesternight this place we reached, and heard</p> +<p>Your loyal people speak of your sad plight.</p> +<p>In early youth I learned to use the bow—</p> +<p>I pray thee, therefore, send me forth against</p> +<p>The wretch that dares to wrest this land from thee."</p> +<br> +<p>And ere the treacherous wretch could string his bow,</p> +<p>A pointed arrow carrying death with it,</p> +<p>Like lightning flew from forth the maiden's hands,</p> +<p>Pierced deep into his head, that plans devised</p> +<p>To kill his royal master and once more</p> +<p>Thought ill of Panchala and her good king.</p> +<p>His body lifeless lay upon the field.</p> +<br> +<p class="i2">Then spake the maiden to the grateful king:—</p> +<p>"Thou, noble ruler of this ancient land!</p> +<p>Before thy sacred presence and before</p> +<p>All these assembled in thy royal court,</p> +<p>I will reveal my story, sad but true.</p> +<p>I am the only child of him that ruled</p> +<p>The neighbouring state, whose kings for centuries</p> +<p>In peace and friendship lived with Panchala.</p> +<p>Alas! the villain, whom my arrow gave</p> +<p>To crows and to the eagles of the air,</p> +<p>Usurped my father's throne, and sad to tell,</p> +<p>He instant orders gave to murder us.</p> +<p>The menials sent to do the cruel deed</p> +<p>Felt pity for the fallen king and me,</p> +<p>His only daughter, in the woods left us</p> +<p>And went away, reporting they had done</p> +<p>The deed; and there, in that deserted place,</p> +<p>Unknown we lived a wretched life for years.</p> +<p>And glad I am that death ignoble, which</p> +<p>The wretch deserved, has now befallen him.</p> +<br> +<p>This person standing here—I now remove</p> +<p>The veil, and, by the mole upon his breast,</p> +<p>Behold in him thine own begotten son—</p> +<p>Was by thy orders banished from the land.</p> +<p>Grant that I now may plead for him, because</p> +<p>A woman's words can sooner soothe the heart.</p> +<p>I crave your Majesty to pardon him</p> +<p>For loving me, and take him back unto</p> +<p>His father's home; grant also, gracious king,</p> +<p>That I, a princess, may be worthy deemed</p> +<p>Of being wedded to thine only son."</p> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="chandra"></a><h2><i>CHANDRA</i>.</h2> + +<h2>A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKÓTA, A.D. 1565.</h2> +<br><br> + +<p>At length the four great Mahometan governments, A'dil Sháh, Nízám Sháh, +Baríd, and Kútb Sháh, formed a league against Rám Rája, then ruling at +Bijáyanagar. A great battle took place on the Kishna, near Tálicót, +which, for the numbers engaged, the fierceness of the conflict, and the +importance of the stake, resembled those of the early Mahometan +invaders. The barbarous spirit of those days seemed also to be renewed +in it; for, on the defeat of the Hindus, their old and brave rája, being +taken prisoner, was put to death in cold blood, and his head was kept +till lately at Bijapúr as a trophy.</p> + +<p>This battle destroyed the monarchy of Bijáyanagar, which at that time +comprehended almost all the South of India. But it added little to the +territories of the victors; their mutual jealousies prevented each from +much extending his frontier; and the country fell into the hands of +petty princes, or of those insurgent officers of the old government, +since so well known as zemíndárs or poligars.</p> + +<p>The brother of the late rája removed his residence further east, and +finally settled at Chandragiri, about seventy miles north-west of +Madras, at which last place his descendant first granted a settlement to +the English.—<i>Elphinstone</i>.</p> +<br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>The setting sun sank slowly in the west,</p> +<p>The village labourer from the threshing-floor</p> +<p>Hied home full laden with the gathered corn,</p> +<p>When soon there came, as from a cage just freed,</p> +<p>Two lovely doves intent to peck the grain</p> +<p>That scattered lay upon the vacant field.</p> +<p>Between these birds, by instinct closely linked,</p> +<p>Attachment fond had grown. It seemed, indeed,</p> +<p>That God for speech denied to them had given</p> +<p>Sense exquisite to know each other's ways.</p> +<p>Not all the speech of favoured man in truth</p> +<p>Could meaning make more clear or deeply felt</p> +<p>Than one soft motion of the slender frame,</p> +<p>One gentle murmur from the tiny throat.</p> +<p>The wife more bold, yet pausing oft to scan</p> +<p>Her lord, adventurous strayed with timid steps,</p> +<p>Unconscious all of aught to mar their joys.</p> +<p>Just then with steady poise on outstretched wing</p> +<p>A hungry falcon hovered over her,</p> +<p>Resolved with one fell swoop to seize his prey,</p> +<p>His talons bury in her tender flesh,</p> +<p>Lift her away to some sequestered spot,</p> +<p>There drink her blood in leisure undisturbed,</p> +<p>And break her bones and her torn flesh devour.</p> +<p class="i2">At early morn upon that selfsame day</p> +<p>A huntsman sallied forth in search of food,</p> +<p>And, wandering luckless all day long, at last</p> +<p>Did chance upon this bird. Behind a bush</p> +<p>He quickly crept, and straightway strung his bow.</p> +<p>A gladsome vision suddenly appeared—</p> +<p>He saw his wife and children in their home</p> +<p>Enjoy the dove's well spiced and roasted flesh.</p> +<p>But lo! a gentle flutter of the leaves</p> +<p>By eagerness unconscious caused, to her</p> +<p>Revealed the huntsman take his deadly aim.</p> +<p>With head uplifted and with wings outstretched</p> +<p>She flight essayed, but saw the falcon near.</p> +<p>Thus scared and terror-struck she lay resigned</p> +<p>To fall by deadly arrow pierced, and give</p> +<p>Her lifeless form to feed the hungry bird.</p> +<p>The keen-eyed huntsman saw that lifted head</p> +<p>And open wings meant flight and sure escape.</p> +<p>He therefore quickly aimed his arrow high,</p> +<p>Which flying pierced the falcon nearing down.</p> +<p>That selfsame moment when the arrow flew,</p> +<p>When all his thoughts were centred on the bird,</p> +<p>The huntsman pressed his foot upon a snake</p> +<p>That in the bush lay coiled. Writhing with pain,</p> +<p>The snake poured deadly poison from its fangs.</p> +<p>The huntsman and the falcon both fell dead</p> +<p>Before the helpless dove; and foes that came</p> +<p>To work her woe had worked each other woe.</p> +<p>The loving pair together flew away,</p> +<p>Their life of joy and freedom to renew.</p> +<br> +<p>Lo such the story of two human lives!</p> +<p>To them, as happens oft, abundant share</p> +<p>Of Nature's choicest gifts brought many ills.</p> +<p>But noble lives are thus more noble made,</p> +<p>As shining gold oft-heated shines the more.</p> +<p class="i2">Over the ancient land of Vijiapore<a name="FNanchor2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2"><sup>[2]</sup></a></p> +<p>There reigned a king for truth and valour known.</p> +<p>The lovely Chandra<a name="FNanchor3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3"><sup>[3]</sup></a> was his only child,</p> +<p>Who like the moon among the stars of heaven</p> +<p>Shone fairest 'mong the daughters of the land.</p> +<p>The father fondly hoped his child would wed</p> +<p>A neighbouring prince, the mighty ruler of</p> +<p>An ancient kingdom richer than his own;</p> +<p>The mother she would be the worthy spouse</p> +<p>Of him who was her brother's only son</p> +<p>And trusted minister of Vijiapore.</p> +<p>But one there was, a courtier of the land,</p> +<p>A youth, yet full of counsel wise and true,</p> +<p>And ever ready to obey his master's will.</p> +<p>The terror of his foes, a hunter bold,</p> +<p>He rode the fleetest horse with ease and grace,</p> +<p>The wildest elephant his might could tame,</p> +<p>And horned bulls knew well his steady grip.</p> +<p>Him Chandra wished to wed, and in her breast</p> +<p>With silent hope her love for him kept warm.</p> +<p>The years sped on, the father fondly dreamt</p> +<p>She soon would be the queen of two proud realms,</p> +<p>The mother that her future lord would be</p> +<p>Both king and minister of state. Meanwhile</p> +<p>Fair Chandra and her noble Timmaraj</p> +<p>Longed for the consummation of their love.</p> +<p class="i2">A flower there is, the fairest flower in Ind,</p> +<p>A flower beloved by poets of all time,</p> +<p>Whose beauties lovers ever love to tell,</p> +<p>And liken oft to woman's thousand charms.</p> +<p>This flower, the stately lotus of our Ind,</p> +<p>Its petals closes to the moon at eve,</p> +<p>And all its beauties hides through silent night,</p> +<p>But with the rising of the morning sun</p> +<p>Opens and swells, its beauty full displays,</p> +<p>And sweetest fragrance breathes when fiercest beat</p> +<p>The rays. E'en so fair Chandra, though oft told</p> +<p>She womanhood had long ago attained,</p> +<p>And soon must wed one worthy of her race,</p> +<p>Nought heeded when alternate to her view</p> +<p>Were brought the prowess of the neighbouring king,</p> +<p>The wisdom of the pilot of the state.</p> +<p class="i2">To wean her love from noble Timmaraj,</p> +<p>He forth was sent against his country's foes,</p> +<p>With his small band to fall, and ne'er return.</p> +<p>But oft as he was sent, as often he</p> +<p>Returned victorious with fresh laurels gained.</p> +<p>And when the bards before the king and queen</p> +<p>Recited in the ancient palace hall</p> +<p>The battles bravely won, the glories of</p> +<p>The war, fair Chandra's face with joy, e'en like</p> +<p>The lotus, beamed, and as by magic charmed,</p> +<p>Disclosed a thousand beauties centred there.</p> +<p>Though silent she, her looks to all made known</p> +<p>Her love for Timmaraj, the author brave</p> +<p>Of all his country's good. Yet still she kept</p> +<p>A seal upon her lips, until by chance</p> +<p>An incident occurred which sealed her fate.</p> +<p class="i2">As on the sand near by the water's edge</p> +<p>One thoughtless stands to watch with eager eyes</p> +<p>The surf that beats continuous on the shore,</p> +<p>And suddenly when least expected flows</p> +<p>A wave that reaches far beyond the rest,</p> +<p>So stood the king and queen of Vijiapore</p> +<p>In parents' place, tempting their daughter fair</p> +<p>To marry whom she loved not, could not love,</p> +<p>When Chandra suddenly her mind declared.</p> +<p>Down through the stillness of a narrow vale</p> +<p>The lovely Pampa flows, whose course is shaped</p> +<p>By hills that lift their summits to the sky.</p> +<p>On either side, her course is like the life</p> +<p>Inconstant of the daughters of this land,</p> +<p>Who lived in times of old in castles set</p> +<p>Amidst rich groves and cool, pellucid streams,</p> +<p>And woodlands broad and fair to roam at will;</p> +<p>But these by moats and battlements enclosed</p> +<p>Were made impassable that the eyes impure</p> +<p>Of man might not upon their beauty gaze,</p> +<p>And so defile their virgin purity.</p> +<p>For all that here delighted woman's eyes</p> +<p>Was freely lavished by their royal sires;</p> +<p>And countless guards to watch all day were there,</p> +<p>And maidens numberless to sport with them</p> +<p>And while away their tedious hours of life</p> +<p>With tales of youth, who, bolder than the rest,</p> +<p>Leapt over moats and scaled steep battlements</p> +<p>To have a glimpse of those more dear than life,</p> +<p>But who, alas! were doomed to endless woe,</p> +<p>And sent to pine away in dungeons dark</p> +<p>For tainting with their feet forbidden ground.</p> +<p>But soon their life was changed—the royal bride,</p> +<p>Before the happy bridal hour began,</p> +<p>Was first by all her kindred freely seen,</p> +<p>And straightway taken to the palace hall</p> +<p>To choose and then make known her future lord</p> +<p>From anxious suitors there, and thenceforth spend</p> +<p>With him her days of freedom and of joy.<a name="FNanchor4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4"><sup>[4]</sup></a></p> +<p class="i2">E'en so, none dared, so fearful is the gorge,</p> +<p>To gaze upon the river's loveliness,</p> +<p>Except those inmates of the mountain caves,</p> +<p>That in the noontide hour, to quench their thirst,</p> +<p>Climb down, regardless of the huntsman's bow,</p> +<p>Or save the vultures of the air, those birds</p> +<p>Which, soaring on majestic wings aloft,</p> +<p>Alight, as if by instinct drawn, upon</p> +<p>Her shady margins, there to feast upon</p> +<p>The carcass of some beast that died of age.</p> +<p>But soon the valley widens, and she flows</p> +<p>At will, her waters sparkle in the sun,</p> +<p>And on her margins for grim hills are seen</p> +<p>Green fields, deep shady groves, and peaceful homes.</p> +<p>'Tis here those mountains, that kept zealous guard</p> +<p>O'er Pampa, fade away from view, as if</p> +<p>To make amends for past unkindliness,</p> +<p>So leaving her to shoot into the plain</p> +<p>And watering Vijiapore and countless lands:</p> +<p>'Twas here the village stood of Chengalpore,</p> +<p>The scene of many noble deeds of man</p> +<p>And woman's high devotion to her lord.</p> +<p>'Twas here one crowded hour of Timma's life</p> +<p>Was worth his country's brightest annals, rich</p> +<p>In spoils of war and deeds of valiant men.</p> +<p>In that one hour of all his glorious life</p> +<p>He won a kingdom and a bride, for whom</p> +<p>He left that kingdom never to return;</p> +<p>And this the story of that glorious hour.</p> +<p class="i2">One day the news to Vijiapore was brought:</p> +<p>The elephant whose rich caparisoned back</p> +<p>The king, to please his subjects, once a year</p> +<p>Rode on, his keeper in a sudden fit</p> +<p>Of frenzy killed, and dreadful havoc wrought</p> +<p>Amongst the royal steeds in Chengalpore;</p> +<p>And now the mandate from the king went forth</p> +<p>That Timmaraj should slay his fav'rite beast,</p> +<p>For e'en the stoutest warrior of the land</p> +<p>Dared not approach him in his frenzied mood.</p> +<p>Then 'twas that Chandra suddenly her mind</p> +<p>Declared and boldly spake in words like these:</p> +<p>"It is not meet, dear father, that thou shouldst</p> +<p>So lightly use our only warrior's life,</p> +<p>Who won so many battles for his king</p> +<p>And added nought but glory and renown</p> +<p>Unto his country, and bid him thus fling</p> +<p>His life away before a beast insane.</p> +<p>Thou knowest well thy foes are ever bent</p> +<p>On wresting from thine hands this ancient crown,</p> +<p>And he alone it is that often curbs</p> +<p>Their pride. Yes, Timmaraj shall slay the beast,</p> +<p>But grant my pray'r that he shall marry me,</p> +<p>For often hast thou said that womanhood</p> +<p>I long ago attained, and soon should wed</p> +<p>One, therefore, worthy of our ancient house,</p> +<p>And gladly will I wed that warrior bold,</p> +<p>That shall, before to-morrow's sun has set,</p> +<p>Unto the portals of thy palace here</p> +<p>Bring dead the beast, that now at Chengalpore</p> +<p>Is working havoc on thy noble steeds."</p> +<p>The king to this his consent gladly gave,</p> +<p>Assured that Timma by the angry beast</p> +<p>Would be destroyed and never would return;</p> +<p>And so the second mandate was proclaimed</p> +<p>And sent to Chandra's other suitors too,</p> +<p><i>That he shall win the daughter of the king<br> +Who slays the beast before the morrow's close.</i></p> +<p>The morrow came, and, ere the warrior youth</p> +<p>Leapt on his faithful steed, at early morn,</p> +<p>A maiden stood before his gate and said,</p> +<p>"Brave youth! thy Chandra sent me here to say</p> +<p>Thou shouldst not fear to boldly face the beast;</p> +<p>Shouldst thou come victor back, she will be thine</p> +<p>And thine for ever even after death.</p> +<p>But shouldst thou flee from him to save thy life,</p> +<p>Think then thou art unworthy of her love,</p> +<p>And she shall not e'en see thy coward face;</p> +<p>But, if perchance thou fallest by the beast,</p> +<p>Vouchsafe to her through me with thine own hand</p> +<p>One javelin of the eight which now thou hast,</p> +<p>For she will not outlive her Timmaraj,</p> +<p>But straightway bare her breast and plunge the dart</p> +<p>And lifeless fall a corpse." The youth replied,</p> +<p>"I gladly send this javelin, but tell her</p> +<p>She shall not need its use, for Timmaraj</p> +<p>Will surely come victorious with the beast."</p> +<p>With javelins seven then he sallied forth</p> +<p>Upon his steed to win his bride or die.</p> +<p class="i2">Meanwhile the news was spread that Timmaraj</p> +<p>And that young min'ster, who these many years</p> +<p>Was seeking through her mother Chandra's hand,</p> +<p>And Bukka, ruler of the neighbouring state,</p> +<p>Whom she her father fondly wished should wed,</p> +<p>Had started on their steeds to Chengalpore;</p> +<p>Each vowed to be the first to drag the beast</p> +<p>Unto the royal city for six miles,</p> +<p>And there slay him before the palace gate.</p> +<p>The city poured her sons the sight to see,</p> +<p>For in the annals of their country's past</p> +<p>Not e'en the brightest page contained one deed</p> +<p>That could this glorious feat of man surpass;</p> +<p>And Timma was the people's fav'rite, and</p> +<p>They dearly wished that he should slay the beast,</p> +<p>Win Chandra, and become their future king.</p> +<p class="i2">But soon the thought of that mad beast unnerved</p> +<p>Both Bukka and the minister of the state.</p> +<p>The royal Bukka thus to himself said:</p> +<p>"A richer kingdom than this Vijiapore</p> +<p>I own, and why should I now madly stake</p> +<p>My life in this hard feat; 'tis easier far</p> +<p>To gain this Chandra and her father's throne.</p> +<p>I will sit hidden in the thickest bush,</p> +<p>Near yonder stream, by which the pathway runs—</p> +<p>For Timmaraj is sure to pass that way—</p> +<p>And with this arrow I will end his life.</p> +<p>Thereafter Chandra's love for him will fade</p> +<p>And die, and who is there to marry her</p> +<p>But I?" So thought this foolish youth, to whom</p> +<p>A woman's love was as inconstant as</p> +<p>His own resolve to fight a savage beast,</p> +<p>And sat within a bush to watch his prey.</p> +<p class="i2">He too, the pilot of the state, deemed it</p> +<p>A mad resolve to try the dang'rous feat,</p> +<p>And silent sat unnoticed and unknown</p> +<p>Upon the other side of that same path,</p> +<p>Within a secret bush by that same stream.</p> +<p>The one knew not the other was concealed</p> +<p>The fatal blow upon the selfsame prey</p> +<p>To deal, but fearless Timma on his horse</p> +<p>Approached the beast, which madly rushed on them,</p> +<p>To force both horse and rider to the ground</p> +<p>With his huge leg, and then to tear them both.</p> +<p>The horse was fleeter than the elephant,</p> +<p>Which thus the chase gave up, but still the youth</p> +<p>Undaunted neared the beast a second time,</p> +<p>And hurled with all his might a jav'lin, which</p> +<p>Pierced deep the temple. Thus enraged, the beast</p> +<p>Began the chase again, but still the steed</p> +<p>Was fleeter than the wearied elephant,</p> +<p>And once again he stopped, but Timma hurled</p> +<p>A second, which went deeper than the first,</p> +<p>And roused him all the more—and nevermore</p> +<p>He stopped, but towards Vijiapore the chase</p> +<p>Continued; for in due succession flew</p> +<p>Six jav'lins, lightning-like, with deadly aim.</p> +<p>Thus, by the angry beast pursued, he neared</p> +<p>At last the little stream that must perforce</p> +<p>Be crossed to reach the royal city gate.</p> +<p>Then from the pouch that dangled on his back,</p> +<p>His only jav'lin, with his utmost might,</p> +<p>Discharged, that so enraged the maddened beast,</p> +<p>With fury rushing, that his writhing trunk</p> +<p>Had all but touched the rider and his horse</p> +<p>In one embrace to crush them both; but soon</p> +<p>The keen-eyed youth the danger saw, and spurred</p> +<p>His horse, which bounded o'er the stream, when lo!</p> +<p>Two arrows crossed each other underneath.</p> +<p>One pierced the min'ster dead; the other pierced</p> +<p>The royal Bukka, who unconscious fell.</p> +<p>One moment more, and at the palace gate</p> +<p>The wearied rider on his foaming steed</p> +<p>Stood, like a warrior coming with his spoils,</p> +<p>The beast beside him, which, worn out, fell dead.</p> +<p>And as the tall and massive gate of some</p> +<p>Old fort with spikes deep driven to withstand</p> +<p>The foe, who battered it incessant, falls,</p> +<p>And, powerless to stand the shock, at last</p> +<p>Falls with a crash that far and wide was heard,</p> +<p>So fell the beast, his massive corpse all torn</p> +<p>And mangled, and with jav'lins planted deep,</p> +<p>And when he fell from his huge throat went forth</p> +<p>A wail, his last, like roaring thunder, that</p> +<p>Resounded through the hills of Vijiapore.</p> +<p class="i2">Another moment and brave Timma sat</p> +<p>Upon the bridal seat, the veil was drawn,</p> +<p>And, through the veil, the sacred knot was tied</p> +<p>Round Chandra's neck, and all was merry there.</p> +<p class="i2">And still another moment when—alas!</p> +<p>For that strange fickleness of human life</p> +<p>Whose joys and griefs each other follow like</p> +<p>The spokes of some fast-going wheel—there came</p> +<p>The wounded Bukka with a violent wail</p> +<p>That Timma had the king's adviser slain,</p> +<p>Whose body lay upon the riverside,</p> +<p>Exposed to all the carrion birds of prey,</p> +<p>And him too wounded, but the arrow pierced</p> +<p>Not deep, but laid him senseless for awhile;</p> +<p>But soon, with consciousness restored, his wound</p> +<p>He washed, and straightway hastened on his steed,</p> +<p>In time to tell the story, sad but true,</p> +<p>And stop the marriage of that coward with</p> +<p>The fairest and the noblest of the land.</p> +<p>As when upon a tree, whose boughs with fruits</p> +<p>Are laden, birds innumerable sit,</p> +<p>Them to enjoy and to be merry there,</p> +<p>The cruel hand of man to mar their joys</p> +<p>Hurls suddenly a stone, and all the air</p> +<p>Around is thick with jarring sounds of birds</p> +<p>That in confusion fly—so fell the words</p> +<p>Of Bukka on that scene, where all was joy,</p> +<p>Where, like a beehive, swarmed the surging crowd,</p> +<p>To see the marriage of their princess dear;</p> +<p>And straightway in confusion wild they ran</p> +<p>Without a purpose, but in various ways.</p> +<p>Unto their homes some ran the news t'acquaint,</p> +<p>Some to the wounded Bukka and his horse,</p> +<p>But many to the riverside to find</p> +<p>Their min'ster lying dead by arrow pierced.</p> +<p class="i2">The sorrow-stricken king spake not a word,</p> +<p>But like a lifeless figure stood awhile.</p> +<p>A sudden fit of frenzy overtook</p> +<p>The king at last, and Timma's awful doom</p> +<p>He thundered forth in accents strong like these:</p> +<p>"Be this my decree, forthwith known to all,</p> +<p>That Timma henceforth shall be banished from</p> +<p>My land for this dishonour brought on me.</p> +<p>He paved his way by murder to my throne,</p> +<p>And sullied the fair name of my dear house."</p> +<p class="i2">When these few awful words the monarch spoke,</p> +<p>Tears trickled down his eyes, and Timma from</p> +<p>The bridal seat received his doom, 'stead of</p> +<p>A blessing from the father of his bride.</p> +<p>A gentle touch, a whisper through the veil,</p> +<p>Then Timma to the royal judgment bowed,</p> +<p>And slowly moved from out those scenes of joy</p> +<p>And merriment, and reached the palace gate,</p> +<p>Where stood his horse by that dead elephant;</p> +<p>And soon in that confusion that prevailed</p> +<p>Was seen to slowly move a figure veiled,</p> +<p>T'approach the gate, and forthwith Timma swung</p> +<p>That figure on the saddle of his horse,</p> +<p>Then himself leapt and vanished straight from view.</p> +<p class="i2">The angry monarch saw their sudden flight,</p> +<p>And as some agèd lion, when sore vexed,</p> +<p>Like thunder roaring, musters all his strength</p> +<p>And stands defiant to face the foe, so stood</p> +<p>The agèd warrior, whose old strength returned,</p> +<p>His breast expanded, and his body raised</p> +<p>Erect, and for the time his age shook off.</p> +<p>Then spake he forth in angry tones like these:</p> +<p>"My only child is gone, and he that brings</p> +<p>My daughter back shall have my highest meed—</p> +<p>Nay, even half my kingdom I will give."</p> +<p>None dared save Bukka to essay the feat,</p> +<p>Who forthwith sprang upon his horse, and soon</p> +<p>O'ertook the running pair, for Timma's horse,</p> +<p>Though deemed the fleetest in the land, now felt</p> +<p>His double weight, his wonted speed decreased.</p> +<p>Then Timma said, "Our foe is nearing fast,</p> +<p>And he is armed, while weapons I have none.</p> +<p>In bridal dress I cannot face the foe,</p> +<p>And he will sure kill me and take you back</p> +<p>Unto your angry sire. Thou art a girl</p> +<p>Born of the martial Kshatriya race, and hence</p> +<p>Thou knowest well to ride the wildest horse;</p> +<p>So let me now dismount for thee t'escape."</p> +<p>"'Tis better far I die with thee," she said,</p> +<p>"But I have here the javelin thou didst give</p> +<p>Before thou went'st to kill the elephant,</p> +<p>The eighth and last, concealed within my veil.</p> +<p>Take this and stop the coming foe,—but oh!</p> +<p>Kill not the wretch who dared to follow us,</p> +<p>And sully this our happy bridal hour</p> +<p>By murder; only stay, oh, stay the chase!"</p> +<p>So said, she gave the jav'lin, which he hurled</p> +<p>Upon the chasing charger's breast with all</p> +<p>His might, and straightway horse and rider fell;</p> +<p>And, like those innocent and helpless doves,</p> +<p>The loving pair together fled away,</p> +<p>Their life of joy and freedom to renew.</p> +<p class="i2">Before the fury of an angered king</p> +<p>For full three days and nights they ran, and found</p> +<p>At last a safe and happy shelter in</p> +<p>A shepherd's cot, and in those troublous times</p> +<p>'Twas easier for the brave to kingdoms found,</p> +<p>Rear palaces, and rulers strong become,</p> +<p>Than for the toiling peasants, from sown fields,</p> +<p>To reap their crops and safely bear them home.</p> +<p>Brave Timma was a stranger 'mongst new men;</p> +<p>The many tigers by his arrows killed</p> +<p>And neighboring clans and lawless robbers kept</p> +<p>In check gave them sure hopes of future peace</p> +<p>And future joy, and straightway they made him</p> +<p>Their king to guard their women and their homes,</p> +<p>While they their avocations of the soil</p> +<p>In peace pursued, and soon was raised a fort;</p> +<p>A stately palace too was reared within</p> +<p>By willing hands, and safe from dang'rous foes,</p> +<p>And far away from their dear native vale</p> +<p>Of Vijiapore they spent their peaceful days</p> +<p>In joy, beloved by all their loyal men.</p> +<p class="i2">But 'tis a saying often told in Ind,</p> +<p><i>He hath a foe who hath a lovely wife.</i></p> +<p>Her very loveliness is reason deemed</p> +<p>To hate her lord, nay, murder him, and hence</p> +<p>Her husband's foe unconscious she becomes.</p> +<p>For Chandra's beauty all these evils wrought</p> +<p>Upon the youth, who for his country fought</p> +<p>So many battles, and the Moslem kept</p> +<p>In constant dread, and for his virtue's sake,</p> +<p>Though most beloved in his native land,</p> +<p>And dreaded most for valour by his foes,</p> +<p>He lived a stranger in a foreign land.</p> +<p>She, too, that maiden, 'twas her fate to share</p> +<p>Her husband's troubles for her beauty rare.</p> +<p>Still 'twas a little heav'n their new home where</p> +<p>The halcyon days of mutual love were spent.</p> +<p>'Tis sweet to love and sweeter to be loved;</p> +<p>And thus in their new home their life of joy</p> +<p>They spent in undisturbèd solitude;</p> +<p>But ah! this even was not long to be.</p> +<p class="i2">One day the news was brought to their new king,</p> +<p>By a small troop of sorrow-stricken men,</p> +<p>That ev'ry night a tiger from his den</p> +<p>Came down and fearful havoc wrought amongst</p> +<p>Their toiling cattle, and the piteous tales</p> +<p>Of dreadful woe they poured into his ear</p> +<p>Moved Timma's heart, who took his trusty bow</p> +<p>And forthwith started with a faithful band</p> +<p>To drag the tiger from his mountain cave</p> +<p>And then for ever stop his mad career.</p> +<p>For days and nights he wandered in the woods,</p> +<p>But sad to tell found not the dreaded beast.</p> +<p>Still, nothing daunted, continued the search,</p> +<p>Until at last his faithful men he missed,</p> +<p>And wandered far into the wilds unknown,</p> +<p>When lo! the villain Bukka, who, upon</p> +<p>The outskirts of the newly-founded state,</p> +<p>Was hovering like a falcon o'er his prey,</p> +<p>Pounced suddenly upon the lonely youth</p> +<p>And safely carried him to his abode;</p> +<p>Then tidings sent to Chandra in these words:</p> +<p>"Dear maid! thy Timma is a helpless slave,</p> +<p>A humble suppliant for his life before</p> +<p>The valiant Bukka; let thy pride now cease.</p> +<p>The jav'lin which thou sentest me to slay,</p> +<p>Which killed my noble steed instead, awaits</p> +<p>To pierce his head and forthwith end his life.</p> +<p>But hearken ere I strike him dead therewith,</p> +<p>Thy matchless beauty, valour, virtue—these</p> +<p>Are fit to shine in royal courts like mine,</p> +<p>Add splendour to my household, where installed</p> +<p>As queen the daughters of my land will pay</p> +<p>Homage to thee—discard him, therefore, and</p> +<p>Love me, and I will forthwith set him free."</p> +<p>The angry maiden made reply, "Vile wretch!</p> +<p>Cursed be thy head to hold this evil thought.</p> +<p>If in my presence this request were made,</p> +<p>Sure I to fragments would have splintered it</p> +<p>With my own weapon, and the pieces thrown</p> +<p>To carrion birds to feast upon withal.</p> +<p>Tell him 'tis better far he should be like</p> +<p>A cur tied at my gate, for servants, as</p> +<p>They pass, to throw a little morsel from</p> +<p>The remnants of our feast; I fear him not,</p> +<p>And if my lord he kills, sure I am not</p> +<p>His wife, if forthwith I don't leap upon</p> +<p>The flames and then to ashes be reduced.</p> +<p>Begone! 'twere better far my husband dies</p> +<p>Than be the prisoner of a grovelling wretch."</p> +<p>Bukka, whose ire was roused, sent word at last—</p> +<p>"Beware, you foolish maid! poor Timma's life</p> +<p>Endanger not by this refusal stern,</p> +<p>Nor lightly treat my prowess, for to me</p> +<p>'Tis easier far to take away his life</p> +<p>Than for the lordly monarch of the woods</p> +<p>To kill the puny, weakly lamb; and nought</p> +<p>Prompts me to wait thus far, but pity for</p> +<p>The daughter of a friend and neighbour-king,</p> +<p>Else Timma's body would have long ere this</p> +<p>Been given to the eagles of the air.</p> +<p>So listen now, once more, ere I kill him,</p> +<p>And, if at all thou carest for his life,</p> +<p>Let me but see the beauty of thy face,</p> +<p>And for one moment only gaze upon</p> +<p>Its loveliness—then Timma shall be free,</p> +<p>And I will pass in quietness to my home—</p> +<p>Nay, henceforth I will not molest you both.</p> +<p>Shouldst thou this last request refuse, I swear,</p> +<p>By all I sacred hold, the moment that</p> +<p>Refusal comes, the jav'lin from my hand</p> +<p>Will fly at Timma and will strike him dead."</p> +<p>Meantime brave Chandra in the audience hall</p> +<p>Of her own palace, 'midst her faithful men,</p> +<p>Received the news, and then in angry tones</p> +<p>She spurned the wild request, when there appeared</p> +<p>Her priest, who counsel gave in words like these:</p> +<p>"It is not meet, O royal lady, that</p> +<p>Thou shouldst this attitude defiant assume,</p> +<p>When Bukka in a moment may bereave</p> +<p>Us all of our dear, noble Timmaraj,</p> +<p>And drive thee, too, to fling thy life away;</p> +<p>And, if 'tis writ thou shouldst so die with him,</p> +<p>Our sad entreaties and our tears will nought</p> +<p>Avail, nor alter laws thus preordained.</p> +<p>But haply, if it is writ otherwise,</p> +<p>Why break the link that binds you both for life?</p> +<p>Call it not chance the link that binds men's hearts,</p> +<p>But Heaven's sacred gift to sweeten life.</p> +<p>It is the hand divine that guides man's life</p> +<p>From the inception to the very end;</p> +<p>Nay more, sees even after that life's end,</p> +<p>Its own appointed destiny is reached,</p> +<p>To take fresh shape, its course to run anew,</p> +<p>And reap what it had sown before, for take</p> +<p>The tree, its fruit but falls to reach its base.</p> +<p>The calf his mother easily doth find</p> +<p>Amidst a thousand cows, to suck the milk;</p> +<p>And all our deeds doth likewise follow us,</p> +<p>E'en after death, and they are not our own,</p> +<p>But preordainèd laws, that must perforce</p> +<p>Be anywise fulfilled, and He alone</p> +<p>It is that sees their strict fulfilment here.</p> +<p>For ah! why should the noblest maiden and</p> +<p>The fairest and the wisest in the land</p> +<p>Be mated to the meanest wretch through life?</p> +<p>All that is deemed the highest in the world—</p> +<p>Beauty and honour, valour, virtue, wealth—</p> +<p>All these availeth not, her mind is blank;</p> +<p>She herself knows not whom to love and wed;</p> +<p>Not e'en dear friendship kindles in her breast</p> +<p>The lamp of love, but suddenly</p> +<p>A passing stranger's glance, a simple look</p> +<p>Instinctive plants that love, which slow takes shape,</p> +<p>Despite a thousand counter forces, till</p> +<p>At last the final end is reached: a look</p> +<p>Is thus enough to bind two hearts for life,</p> +<p>And this is but the true fulfilment of</p> +<p>A preordainèd law that in the life</p> +<p>Before had all but reached perfection full,</p> +<p>Or their appointed shape had all but tak'n,</p> +<p>And in the new life easily attains</p> +<p>The end: such, then, the truth of all such things.</p> +<p>Call it what you will, simple tendency</p> +<p>Inherited, the least sign gives it life,</p> +<p>Which but leads it to its appointed end,</p> +<p>Like powder whose combustibleness sleeps,</p> +<p>The sudden spark to action rouses it.</p> +<p>And thus it was, O Chandra, thou didst share</p> +<p>A humble courtier's lot, and didst refuse</p> +<p>The premier noble's hand, or better still</p> +<p>The queenship of two mighty states, and thus</p> +<p>The many counter forces that were set</p> +<p>At work but strengthened thy true love for him.</p> +<p>And why endanger such a husband's life?</p> +<p>One wedded so to thee, and not by chance,</p> +<p>But by the preordainèd law of God;</p> +<p>For know thou livest only for thy lord.</p> +<p>Thy husband is thy lord, and, if perchance</p> +<p>It is his will thou shouldst be Bukka's queen,</p> +<p>Thou shouldst, so knowing it, obey his will,</p> +<p>Else, sure thou shalt be deemed nor pure nor chaste,</p> +<p>But counted worse than e'en a faithless wife;</p> +<p>'Tis not in man to alter written laws;</p> +<p>'Tis hard, nay useless too to fight 'gainst fate,</p> +<p>And if 'tis writ that Bukka should now see</p> +<p>Thy matchless face, thou canst not alter it,</p> +<p>And fate's severities good deeds alone</p> +<p>Can soften, and our holy writings say</p> +<p>'Tis sin to let another man behold</p> +<p>Thy face, admire the beauties that enchant,</p> +<p>And thou becomest then impure; but those</p> +<p>Same holy books say, 'tis no sin to see</p> +<p>The shadow for the true reality.</p> +<p>Now, therefore, let a silken veil be drawn,</p> +<p>And underneath a bowl of oil be placed,</p> +<p>And the reflection of thy face therein</p> +<p>Let Bukka see and Timmaraj be saved."</p> +<p>To this the queen consent unwilling gave,</p> +<p>And Bukka to the palace gladly came,</p> +<p>Resolved to freedom give to Timmaraj,</p> +<p>If Chandra were like other maidens fair,</p> +<p>But sure possess her, if she shone among</p> +<p>The daughters of the earth surpassing fair,</p> +<p>And like the moon among the stars of heav'n.</p> +<p>The veil was drawn, the bowl of oil was placed,</p> +<p>And lo! was seen therein a face, whose like</p> +<p>The royal Bukka ne'er had seen before</p> +<p>In all his life; like lightning it appeared,</p> +<p>Bright'ning the surface for an instant, and</p> +<p>Like lightning vanished, planting in his breast</p> +<p>Impassioned love for Chandra, and a love</p> +<p>Too deeply rooted to be rooted out.</p> +<p>Then Chandra through the screen impatient said:</p> +<p>"Now that this deed is done, delay no more</p> +<p>My long lost husband to restore to me."</p> +<p>And Bukka made reply—"O maiden fair,</p> +<p>O Chandra! I am smitten by thy charms,</p> +<p>Thy wondrous face is ever in my mind,</p> +<p>And nought can now induce me to restore</p> +<p>Thy Timmaraj to thee, to gaze upon</p> +<p>Thy wondrous beauty and enjoy those charms.</p> +<p>My kingdom broad is at thy feet, and there</p> +<p>Enthroned as queen my riches and my all</p> +<p>Shall be at thy command, and therefore hear,—</p> +<p>If, by to-morrow eve, thou dost not reach</p> +<p>My tent pitched yonder, Timmaraj shall die,</p> +<p>And to the pyre, if thou dost follow him,</p> +<p>Sure I will myself die with thee, and thus</p> +<p>A double sin will rest upon thy head."</p> +<p>As the fond mother of an only child,</p> +<p>When sick, clings closely to it, and for days</p> +<p>And nights incessant watches it with care,</p> +<p>When he, well versed in all the healing lore,</p> +<p>Gives but to please her hopes of cure complete,</p> +<p>But suddenly the dang'rous malady</p> +<p>New shape assumes, the symptoms serious grow,</p> +<p>The healer himself breaks at last the news</p> +<p>Unto the anxious mother, who stands mute,</p> +<p>And knows not what to do in blank despair—</p> +<p>So felt the hapless Chandra when these words</p> +<p>The treach'rous Bukka spake and left the scene.</p> +<p>Now 'twas her holy Brahmin priest appeared,</p> +<p>And counsel gave again in words like these:</p> +<p>"Grieve not, but well rejoice that Bukka builds</p> +<p>His future hope on base dishonesty.</p> +<p>His fall is near, and Timma's safe return</p> +<p>Henceforth is sure, for he that hopes to win</p> +<p>By treach'ry and deceit, fails sorely in</p> +<p>This world of God, and therefore fear him not;</p> +<p>It is the foe magnan'mous thou shouldst fear.</p> +<p>Our holy ancient writings say it is</p> +<p>No sin deceit to conquer by deceit;</p> +<p>And hence fail not to send immediate word</p> +<p>That Bukka should to-morrow eve expect</p> +<p>Thee as befits a woman of thy rank,</p> +<p>And with a hundred maidens in his tent.</p> +<p>Take twenty litters, and let one appear</p> +<p>More gorgeous than the rest, for thee to sit,</p> +<p>Take but a hundred of thy faithful men,</p> +<p>All armed to fight for their dear king and queen.</p> +<p>Thou art a kshatriya girl, thou knowest well</p> +<p>To fight, and therefore take thy fav'rite bow</p> +<p>And arrows and conceal thy person with</p> +<p>A maiden's veil, armed fully as thou art,</p> +<p>And likewise let thy men be covered too,</p> +<p>To look like thine own maids of honour, let</p> +<p>Each litter, with a man inside, be borne</p> +<p>By four, go forth equipped likewise, surprise</p> +<p>The foe, bring him a prisoner, or upon</p> +<p>The field of battle die a noble death.</p> +<p>And death need have no horrors unto thee,</p> +<p>But unto those to whom this world is bright,</p> +<p>Its prospects hopeful and its pleasures keen,</p> +<p>And to the healthy and the young death's pangs</p> +<p>Are most severe when life is plucked, and from</p> +<p>Sere age, when all is ready for the end,</p> +<p>Life unperceived goes as from one that sleeps.</p> +<p>The gentlest wind brings down the serest leaf.</p> +<p>To sever from the parent stem by force</p> +<p>The freshest must be plucked, and so with man.</p> +<p>And by the righteous and the just, when sore</p> +<p>Oppressed with grief, dear death is welcomed most.</p> +<p>When the eruptions on the skin pain most,</p> +<p>By cutting them relief at once is sought;</p> +<p>E'en so, if noble Timmaraj is killed,</p> +<p>Court instant death, thy dagger hurl, and bare</p> +<p>Thy breast and lifeless by thy husband fall,</p> +<p>Like that same bird that, full up to the throat,</p> +<p>Swallows the little pebbles of the sand,</p> +<p>And, soaring high aloft upon her wings,</p> +<p>Suddenly closes them and drops down dead</p> +<p>Near her dead lover, where the body bursts.</p> +<p>But this, if you find hard, run with thy life</p> +<p>To this our safe abode, where willingly</p> +<p>The fun'ral pyre we, with our hands, will raise</p> +<p>And feed the flames thy body to consume.</p> +<p>Hence soon depart and Krishna will help thee."</p> +<p>The morrow came, and Chandra sallied forth</p> +<p>And, as directed by her Brahmin sage,</p> +<p>Went with a hundred of her armèd men,</p> +<p>All veiled, surprised the foe, who, flushed with hope,</p> +<p>Unguarded waited but to welcome her:</p> +<p>Then safely rescued her lost Timmaraj;</p> +<p>The fatal jav'lin wrung from Bukka's hands,</p> +<p>And himself too a prisoner brought in chains.</p> +<p>Then in the spacious palace hall, amidst</p> +<p>Her faithful men, the noble queen sat veiled</p> +<p>With Timmaraj, long absent from the throne,</p> +<p>And spake to Bukka, standing in the front</p> +<p>With folded hands, in angry words like these:</p> +<p>"By treach'ry thrice thou triedst to win, and thrice</p> +<p>Hast failed, and, when my noble Timmaraj</p> +<p>Went singly forth to bring the maddened beast,</p> +<p>Concealed thou didst aim at his life and failed.</p> +<p>The hand of God had otherwise decreed.</p> +<p>And when upon the bridal seat we sat,</p> +<p>And all were merry in my father's home,</p> +<p>Thou camest with a story, false and base,</p> +<p>And for our lives we had to flee, and now</p> +<p>Are strangers here, and when upon thy steed</p> +<p>Unjustly thou pursuedst us both, it was</p> +<p>My hand that stayed my husband killing thee,</p> +<p>Else long ago the worms had eaten thee;</p> +<p>Thy bones the jackals of the earth had tak'n;</p> +<p>And nothing left of thee but thine own sins.</p> +<p>It was thy charger innocent that paid</p> +<p>For them the penalty instead. Once more</p> +<p>You came, and, like a lawless thief concealed,</p> +<p>Carried my lord, when helpless and alone,</p> +<p>And for his freedom vile proposals made,</p> +<p>And for so many days these troubles wrought</p> +<p>On me and these my faithful loyal men.</p> +<p>Know well, 'tis virtue that is sure to win,</p> +<p>And truth and justice will prevail at last.</p> +<p>This very jav'lin will put thine eyes out;</p> +<p>But pity for thy present state prompts me</p> +<p>To let thee now alone—go safely home,</p> +<p>And henceforth never even sin in thought."</p> +<p>And like a criminal who, by pity freed,</p> +<p>At once goes forth worse sins to perpetrate,</p> +<p>So Bukka, vowing vengeance, left the hall,</p> +<p>And henceforth love and hate alternate played</p> +<p>In his dark breast—hate for this grave insult,</p> +<p>And by a woman offered, and love too,</p> +<p>A bestial passion for her wondrous charms;</p> +<p>And from that selfsame moment various plans</p> +<p>His head devised her pride to humble and</p> +<p>Her purity to sully, when alas!</p> +<p>The Moslems' greed of power gave him sure hopes</p> +<p>At last her Timma's ruin to complete.</p> +<p class="i2">Unto the agèd king of Vijiapore</p> +<p>His only warrior's and his only child's</p> +<p>Escape brought many toils and endless woe.</p> +<p>That Bukka, with a perjured tale, came on</p> +<p>The day of marriage was made known to all,</p> +<p>Soon after they had left their native home.</p> +<p>The agèd monarch knew not where they lived,</p> +<p>But sent his faithful servants far and wide</p> +<p>To bring them home; the cruel Moslems, too,</p> +<p>Aware that Timma's absence weakened him,</p> +<p>Combined a sudden rush to make upon</p> +<p>The royal city, kill her ruler, and</p> +<p>Divide the spoils and take his vast domains.</p> +<p>And now the wily Bukka with those foes</p> +<p>Of foreign faith conspired; what though he fought</p> +<p>As usual in the ranks of Vijiapore,</p> +<p>Under the banner of her Hindu king!</p> +<p>To them he would run in the thickest of</p> +<p>The fight and sudden turn the tide of war,</p> +<p>And, from the conquered spoils, for his own share,</p> +<p>He wanted neither lands nor riches, but</p> +<p>Demanded Chandra and her lord alive.</p> +<p>And news of instant war had travelled far</p> +<p>And wide, the princes and the chieftains poured</p> +<p>Their loyal forces, ready to avenge</p> +<p>Their Moslem foes, who, for no cause, thus dared</p> +<p>Their city to invade so suddenly.</p> +<p>And Timma hastened with his wife at last,</p> +<p>And was with joy received by all, who lost</p> +<p>All hopes of ever seeing them alive.</p> +<p>And soon a council in the royal hall</p> +<p>Was held, to name a leader and decide</p> +<p>How best to strike at once th' advancing foes.</p> +<p>Many felt proud by Timma to be led</p> +<p>To victory in the field or glorious death,</p> +<p>And many too in that assembly said</p> +<p>That Bukka should not join their Hindu ranks,</p> +<p>For he would, in the midst of battle, join</p> +<p>The Moslem ranks and surely bring defeat</p> +<p>And ruin too upon their agèd king,</p> +<p>The noble Ramaraj of Vijiapore,</p> +<p>And cause their ancient kingdom's overthrow.</p> +<p>But said one counted high for wisdom there:</p> +<p>"<i>Do good, and so chide him that evil does</i>,</p> +<p>Is the oft-quoted saying of our true</p> +<p>And ancient faith, and this is but the war</p> +<p>For mastery 'tween different creeds and faiths,</p> +<p>And hence let Bukka forthwith come to fight</p> +<p>Against the common foes, who thus combined</p> +<p>To mar our ancient faith and change our lives,</p> +<p>And let our Ramaraj himself go forth</p> +<p>And lead, and everlasting glory win,</p> +<p>And in defence of our old Hindu faith,</p> +<p>Or, if he falls, let him to <i>Swarga</i> go</p> +<p>To join th' immortals there; and one word more</p> +<p>To thee, O Timma,—bury all the past,</p> +<p>And Bukka for his sins forgive, and both</p> +<p>Go hand in hand to fight the Moslem foes.</p> +<p>To pardon is the spirit of our faith."</p> +<p>To this consent was gladly giv'n by all,</p> +<p>And the propitious day and hour to march</p> +<p>Was soon named by the holy Brahmin priest,</p> +<p>So deeply versed in all the starry lore.</p> +<p>Brave Timma sought his anxious wife ere he</p> +<p>Went forth to fight, and thus took leave of her.</p> +<p>"Dear wife! the day to march is named at last.</p> +<p>Your agèd sire and our dear monarch leads</p> +<p>The war, and Bukka, as a Hindu true,</p> +<p>Joins us to fight against the Moslem horde,</p> +<p>And doubly glad I am that in this war,</p> +<p>With Bukka vying in the field with me,</p> +<p>And in the very presence of our king,</p> +<p>Who well rewards the val'rous and the brave,</p> +<p>The place of honour I will there attain</p> +<p>For courage true, and prove once more before</p> +<p>The world I am a worthy husband of</p> +<p>A noble wife; so let me now depart."</p> +<p>She made reply—"Some evil it forebodes</p> +<p>That Bukkaraj should thus be madly told</p> +<p>To join our ranks, for what is truth and God</p> +<p>To one so steeped in sin? And sad it is</p> +<p>My agèd father goes with him to fight.</p> +<p>Trust not in him and keep a steady eye</p> +<p>On him, e'en if within the thickest of</p> +<p>The fight thou art, for any moment he</p> +<p>May turn the tide of war; fight till the last,</p> +<p>And, if thou comest back victorious from</p> +<p>The field, I'll be the first to welcome thee,</p> +<p>But, if thou fallest fighting in the field,</p> +<p>Or if, perhaps, it chances otherwise,</p> +<p>Thou art left helpless and alone, here is</p> +<p>Our ever ready jav'lin to kill thee.</p> +<p>Thy body forthwith shall be nobly borne</p> +<p>Unto the pyre by thine own faithful men,</p> +<p>And I will gladly leap upon the flames.</p> +<p>But if thou comest routed and alive,</p> +<p>Then Chandra nevermore shall see thy face."</p> +<p>At early morn, upon th' appointed day,</p> +<p>The king his faithful servants summoned, and</p> +<p>Before them all his only brother named</p> +<p>To rule the kingdom and confided all</p> +<p>His subjects to his care; then, at the head</p> +<p>Of his brave troops, out of the city marched,</p> +<p>Amidst the royal bards recounting in</p> +<p>Sweet tones the glories of his kingdom's past,</p> +<p>His holy priests invoking Krishna's help</p> +<p>And chanting sacred hymns, and in the midst</p> +<p>Of maidens of the martial Kshatrya race,</p> +<p>Proceeding to the very city gates,</p> +<p>And singing to their fathers, brothers, and</p> +<p>Their husbands in shrill notes heard far and wide,</p> +<p>That Swarga's gates are ever ready to</p> +<p>Receive the faithful if they bravely fall,</p> +<p>The flames are ready to take their proud wives,</p> +<p>But burning hell gapes wide for to devour</p> +<p>The cowards that run routed and alive;</p> +<p>Their maidens' sweet embrace awaits them not.</p> +<p>At last, upon the plains of Tálicót,</p> +<p>The armies met, fierce raged the battle, and</p> +<p>Old Ramaraj fought nobly in the field;</p> +<p>And Timma too wrought dreadful havoc on</p> +<p>The Moslems and their ranks oft shattered, but</p> +<p>Alas! the ever treach'rous Bukka pounced</p> +<p>Sudden on his own ranks; the king was slain;</p> +<p>His ghastly head upon a pole was shown,</p> +<p>And helpless and forlorn the Hindus stood;</p> +<p>But, ere perfidious Bukka could run with</p> +<p>The Moslem foes, to capture him alive,</p> +<p>A faithful soldier Timma called, gave him</p> +<p>His Chandra's jav'lin, in his steady grip</p> +<p>To hold, then boldly ran his body through</p> +<p>And instantly fell lifeless to the ground.</p> +<p>A faithful few the body bore, and laid</p> +<p>Before the orphaned and the widowed maid</p> +<p>Their precious charge, and soon the pyre was raised.</p> +<p>Then, near the flames that brightened her bright face,</p> +<p>Her uncle and her people shedding tears,</p> +<p>Her noble husband lying cold and still,</p> +<p>The story of her father's cruel death</p> +<p>Still ringing in her ears, she took farewell.</p> +<p>"Dear uncle and my faithful men! grieve not:</p> +<p>I see a cloud, now looming yonder there,</p> +<p>No bigger than the hand of man, that shall</p> +<p>Expand and rain and water to purge all</p> +<p>The land of th' innocent blood shed on it,</p> +<p>For mother India's cup of woe is full,</p> +<p>And but three decades more,—there will come from</p> +<p>The far-off ends of this vast globe of ours,—</p> +<p>A little island planted in the sea,—</p> +<p>A handful of a noble race to trade,</p> +<p>And shall from thee ask for a plot of land,</p> +<p>And they shall prosper for their valour and</p> +<p>Shall be exalted for their righteousness.</p> +<p>They shall befriend the helpless and the poor,</p> +<p>And like the streams that seek the ocean broad,</p> +<p>The chickens that run to their mothers wings,</p> +<p>The maidens helpless and forlorn, that court</p> +<p>The succour of the chivalrous and the brave,</p> +<p>The orphans poor, the bounty of the kind,</p> +<p>All men of Ind, all races and all creeds</p> +<p>Shall to their banner flock, to live in peace</p> +<p>And amity; the tiger and the lamb</p> +<p>Their thirst shall quench both from the selfsame brook.</p> +<p>The giant brute before the weakly sage</p> +<p>Shall bow, and men shall fear to even gaze</p> +<p>Upon the maidens that go forth alone,</p> +<p>Adorned with naught but chastity, and from</p> +<p>All lands the wisest shall revere our faith.</p> +<p>He that desires our homes to plunder and</p> +<p>Sully the honour of our women, him</p> +<p>Punishment terrible shall sure await.</p> +<p>Three hundred years more and the little plot</p> +<p>Of land thou gavest shall grow and expand</p> +<p>Into an empire huge, unwritten yet</p> +<p>On hist'ry's page, and shall surpass the dreams</p> +<p>Of warriors bold in times of old, and like</p> +<p>The creepers that, entwined around the oak,</p> +<p>Luxuriant grow, safe from the storms that blow,</p> +<p>And flow'rs give forth to beautify the scene,</p> +<p>Her sons shall everlasting peace enjoy,</p> +<p>And blessings, hitherto unknown to man—</p> +<p>The grandest scene for God to ever cast</p> +<p>His loving eyes upon, and for the world</p> +<p>Of man to wonder at, and there shall be</p> +<p>One sway, the sway of reason and of truth;</p> +<p>One creed, the creed of righteousness and love;</p> +<p>And mercy for all living things on earth;</p> +<p>One brotherhood, the brotherhood of man;</p> +<p>One fatherhood, the fatherhood of God.</p> +<p>But hark! there comes a shout, and yonder runs</p> +<p>Exulting Bukka to seize me alive.</p> +<p>But these kind flames are ready to save me.</p> +<p>Run, uncle, run at once to far-off lands</p> +<p>And continue thy sway in safer climes."</p> +<p>So saying, she leapt on the fun'ral pyre,</p> +<p>And speedily to ashes were consumed</p> +<p>The faithful wife and her departed lord.</p> +<p>The monarch, who thus from the Moslem ran,</p> +<p>In honour of this noble maiden, reared</p> +<p>A princely town,<a name="FNanchor5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5"><sup>[5]</sup></a> and here the Saxon came,</p> +<p>And mother India was for ever blest.</p> + +</div> +</div> +<p>FOOTNOTES:</p> + +<a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a><div class=note> Vijianagar is here called Vijiapore.</div><br> + +<a name="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor3">[3]</a><div class=note> Literally, the moon.</div><br> + +<a name="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor4">[4]</a><div class=note> The allusion here is to the ancient custom of <i>Swayamvara</i> +(self-choice), which is the election of a husband by a princess or a +daughter of a kshatriya at a public assembly of suitors for the +purpose.</div><br> + +<a name="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor5">[5]</a><div class=note> Chandragiri.</div><br> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<a name="korathy"></a><h2><i>THE KORATHY'S LULLABY.</i></h2> +<br><br> + +<p>The Korathy is the tattooer of the Indian village, who offers her +services for a small fee. Hindu females are very fond of having their +bodies tattooed. The Korathy first makes a sketch of the figure of a +scorpion or a serpent on the part of the body offered to her for +tattooing, then takes a number of sharp needles, dips them in some +liquid preparation which she has ready, and pricks the flesh most +mercilessly. In a few days the whole appears green. This is considered a +mark of beauty among the Hindus. While the tattooing takes place the +Korathy sings a crude song, so as to make the person undergoing the +process forget the pain. The following is as nearly as possible a +translation of the song which I myself heard:—</p> +<br> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<p>Stay, darling, stay—'tis only for an hour,</p> +<p>And you will be the fairest of the fair.</p> +<p>Your lotus eyes can soothe the savage beast,</p> +<p>Your lips are like the newly blossomed rose,</p> +<p>Your teeth—they shine like pearls; but what are they</p> +<p>Before the beauties of my handiwork?</p> +<br> +<p>Stay, darling, stay—'tis only for an hour,</p> +<p>And you will be the fairest of the fair.</p> +<p>I've left my home, and all day hard I toil</p> +<p>So to adorn the maidens of the land</p> +<p>That erring husbands may return to them;</p> +<p>Such are the beauties of my handiwork.</p> +<br> +<p>Stay, darling, stay—'tis only for an hour,</p> +<p>And you will be the fairest of the fair;</p> +<p>In days of old fair Seeta laid her head</p> +<p>Upon the lap of one of our own clan,</p> +<p>When with her lord she wandered in the wilds,</p> +<p>And like the emerald shone her beauteous arms.</p> +<br> +<p>Stay, darling, stay—'tis only for an hour,</p> +<p>And you will be the fairest of the fair.</p> +<p>And often in the wilds, so it is said,</p> +<p>She also of the Pandus went in quest</p> +<p>Of one of us, but found not even one,</p> +<p>And sighed she was not like her sisters blest.</p> +<br> +<p>Stay, darling, stay—'tis only for an hour,</p> +<p>And you will be the fairest of the fair.</p> +<p>My work is done; rejoice, for you will be</p> +<p>The fairest of your sisters in the land.</p> +<p>Rejoice for evermore, among them you</p> +<p>Will shine as doth the moon among the stars.</p> +</div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<h2>TALES OF IND,</h2> + +<h2>BY T. RAMAKRISHNA, B.A.</h2> +<br> + +<p>With an Introduction by the Hon. the Rev. W. MILLER, M.A., LL.D., +C.I.E., and dedicated, by permission, to the late Lord Tennyson, Poet +Laureate.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>OPINIONS.</p> +<br> + +<p>They are interesting and remarkable.—<i>Lord Tennyson</i>.</p> + +<p>It is a great pleasure to me to find that a native of South India has so +distinguished himself.—<i>The Right Hon. Sir M.E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I.</i></p> + +<p>It is not often that natives succeed so well as you have done in English +versification.—<i>H.H. Kérala Varma, C.S.I.</i></p> + +<p>Krishnapore irresistibly reminds us of Auburn, the fortunes of Seeta are +in many respects not unlike those of Evangeline, and some forms of +expression seem to be coined in the mint of Tennyson.... These tales +possess peculiar interest as first-fruits in poetic literature of that +amalgamation of Eastern and Western thought that is going on before us +at the present day in this country. They are tales of India, descriptive +of Indian scenery, and marked by many traits both of custom and of +feeling that are characteristic of India.... These tales—tales of +woman's constancy and woman's heroism—are pleasing in themselves; and +the language in which they are told is simple, imaginative, and marked +by a well-sustained melody. The tales are dedicated to Lord Tennyson by +"His Lordship's ardent admirer in the Far East"; and certainly they move +in the atmosphere of the Tennysonian idyll.—<i>Madras Christian College +Magazine</i>.</p> + +<p>Much of the versification is very pleasing, and where it is best, it +has a decided ring of Tennyson in it.... The author possesses true +poetical genius.—<i>Calcutta Statesman and Friend of India</i>.</p> + +<p>SEETA AND RAMA:—The story is pretty, though simple. In parts, moreover, +the author, who is anonymous, displays the true spirit of poetry, which +he (or she) will do well to cultivate.... The tributes of respect for +the heroism, purity, and constancy of women which are found in Mr. +Ramakrishna's poems are in accordance with the teaching of the +Mahabarata, as well as the spirit of the Laureate's verse. Added to this +very engaging feature of his work, there is a power of description that +is very remarkable in a man to whom English is not his mother tongue. +For example, "Seeta and Rama" commences with the following +vignette:—... "All this is in excellent taste. And the same may be said +of his delineations of character. He is never wearisome or trite, and +... he succeeds in enlisting the interest and sympathy of his reader and +in proving that—as Mrs. Grant Duff lately said—there is 'an indefinite +amount of beauty and charm in everyday life' in Southern +India."—<i>Madras Mail</i>.</p> + +<p>SEETA AND RAMA:—A very pretty and pathetic, though simple little story, +told in the true poetic vein, and possesses a deep melancholy +interest.... They are simple tales, told in English verse, which is +characterised by a purity and a simplicity that are very noteworthy in +an Indian writer, and which show considerable acquaintance of the +English language, especially of Tennyson's writings. Indeed, of them all +is true what was said of the first poem, not only according to the +<i>Christian College Magazine</i>, that some forms of expression seemed +coined in the mint of Tennyson, but, according to the <i>Statesman and +Friend of India</i>, that where the versification is best it has a ring of +Tennyson.—<i>Madras Times</i>.</p> + +<p>The style is simple and natural, and reminds us more often of Tennyson's +"Idylls of the King" than any other English poem that we can recollect +now.... Throughout, the book is most finely written in rhyme, and the +learned author has minted at the forge of Tennyson, to whom the book is +most dutifully dedicated, the sentiments of Oliver Goldsmith, Parnell, +and Byron.—<i>Hindu</i>.</p> + +<p>We must congratulate Mr. Ramakrishna on the success which has attended +his, no doubt, pleasing labours. He is the first Hindu graduate, so far +as we know, who has come before the public as a poet, and well does he +deserve every encouragement.—<i>Madras Standard</i>.</p> + +<p>This little poem is an exquisitely finished, harmonious, well-written +story of a pair of Hindu lovers.... Mr. Ramakrishna is extremely +felicitous in the choice of his words, and his descriptions are so +picturesque and vivid, and his narrative so stirring, that the reader +feels as if spell-bound by the author's great skill and power.... There +can be no manner of doubt that the hand that wrote these poems is both +strong and skilful, and was directed by a true spirit of poesy of a high +order.—<i>People's Friend</i>.</p> + +<p>TENNYSON COMMEMORATION MEETING.—At the meeting held in the Christian +College, Dr. Miller proposed that the chair should be taken by Mr. T. +Ramakrishna Pillai, an old student of the College, who, as many of our +readers know, has himself won no small success in the field of +poetry.—<i>Christian College Magazine</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. T. Ramakrishna Pillai is probably the only one in Madras, and +certainly the only native of India in Madras, who had come into any kind +of personal contact with Lord Tennyson.—<i>Speech of the Hon. the Rev. +Dr. Miller at the Tennyson Commemoration Meeting</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br><br><br> + +<h2>LIFE IN AN INDIAN VILLAGE.</h2> + +<h2>BY T. RAMAKRISHNA, B.A.</h2> +<br><br> + +<p>With an Introduction by the Right Hon. Sir M.E. GRANT DUFF, G.C.S.I.</p> + +<p>(<i>London: T. Fisher Unwin</i>, 1891.)</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;"> + +<p>OPINIONS.</p> + +<p>The Occidentals led by Macaulay had too complete a victory for the good +of India. Much that they said and did was wise, but their system has +failed in many ways, and was, indeed, never intended to breed up men +interested in the past of their own land. Nearly all that has been +learned about it has been learned by the labour of Europeans, and yet +natives trained to European methods of research have facilities of kinds +for prosecuting research which we have not.... I had a great deal to say +on that subject, and on many other cognate ones in an address which I +delivered in my capacity of Chancellor of the University of Madras, +shortly before I left the country, but I do not know that it has had +much effect since, though an excellent little book by Mr. Ramakrishna on +the village life of South India is a step in the right direction. We +want, however, quite a small library of works of that kind before the +harvest that is ready for the sickle of intelligent native observers is +gathered in.—<i>The Right Hon. Sir M.E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I., in the +Contemporary Review</i>.</p> + +<p>The subject is interesting, and I do not doubt from the specimen which I +saw that you would treat it in a fresh and agreeable way. What we need +in Europe is to have the reality, the actual working of these Indian +institutions which we have so often mentioned brought home to us, and +probably such a writer as yourself may do this better than a European +could do.—<i>The Right Hon. James Bryce, D.C.L</i>.</p> + +<p>Ramakrishna,—a literary gentleman belonging to Madras, who has written +a charming book called "Life in an Indian Village."—<i>Professor Eric +Robertson in Macmillan's series of Orient Readers</i>.</p> + +<p>I can name more than a dozen Indian authors whose works can fairly rank +with some of the best productions of Englishmen. The well-known author +of "Maxima and Minima," viz., the late Professor Ramachundra, was +considered by no other than De Morgan, the famous mathematician, as an +original genius of a remarkable order. A celebrated Cambridge +Mathematician once told me that he set a problem for the Mathematical +Tripos, basing it upon Ramachundra's "Maxima and Minima," and with the +exception of a few that headed the list, none were able to solve the +problem. In the late Toru Dutt, a young Bengali native Christian lady, +some of the leading literary men of England found a poet of no mean +powers. Mr. Edmund Gosse writes as follows in the preface to her poems +that have been published by an English firm: "It is difficult to +estimate what we have lost in the premature death of Toru Dutt. +Literature has no honours which need have been beyond the grasp of a +girl who, at the age of twenty-one, and in languages separated from her +own by so deep a chasm, had produced so much of lasting worth.... When +the history of the literature of our country comes to be written, there +is sure to be a page in it dedicated to this fragile exotic blossom of +song." Dr. Bandarkar of Bombay is considered to be one of the best +Orientalists of the day. A number of Bengali gentlemen have earned a +lasting fame by literary productions in English, among whom I may +mention the Rev. Lal Behari Day, late Professor in the Hooghly College, +and Mr. Dutt of the Bengal Civil Service. In our own Presidency Mr. +Ramakrishna Pillai has produced a work in English—"Village Life in +India"—that has won the praise of Sir Grant Duff.—<i>Professor +Satthianadhan's Lecture on Intellectual Results in India</i>.</p> + +<p>Mr. Ramakrishna takes a typical village in the Madras Presidency, "the +most Indian part of India," and shows us in half a dozen lucid chapters +that the wants of the villagers are all material—wells, roads, better +breeds of cattle, and so on—and that they do not, and will not for a +long time, care one cash for anything which happens, or which might be +made to happen, in the great outer world beyond their palm-groves and +rice-fields. There is nothing political in this pleasant little book, we +are pleased to say, although we have drawn this political moral from it. +It is a truthfully written account of native life in one of those 55,000 +villages which dot the great district—a tract much larger than the +British Isles—the daily existence of whose peaceful, and not altogether +unhappy, population it is intended to illustrate; and it can be dipped +into, or read through, with equal satisfaction and advantage,—<i>Daily +Telegraph</i> (London).</p> + +<p>"Life in an Indian Village" is an amusing and clear portrayal of the +manners and customs of the inhabitants of a village in the Madras +Presidency. The author first depicts his little community, and then +proceeds to describe the avocations of all the leading personages. As +Kelambakam may be taken as a type of thousands of such villages, the +book will be found particularly interesting to those who are likely to +be brought into contact with the natives of India. Sir M.E. Grant Duff +has written an Introduction, in which he suggests how the simple +villagers can be benefited by their European neighbours.—<i>Morning Post</i> +(London).</p> + +<p>The book itself is excellent, and gives a sketch of Indian village +society from inside. It is possible, however, that the ordinary English +reader will prefer to take his view of "the black men" from Mr. Kipling +rather than from a representative of the natives themselves. If he +wishes to have a native view of native life he will find it in this +work.—<i>Athenaeum</i> (London).</p> + +<p>India is always fertile in surprises for English readers. We know +something of those among its peoples which have given us trouble; but +here is a "dim population" of which many Englishmen will scarcely have +heard the name—the Dravidians of the Madras Presidency, and we learn +with something like astonishment that they number more than the +inhabitants of England. The village which Mr. Ramakrishna describes for +us is one of more than fifty thousand, averaging about five hundred +inhabitants apiece. The first thing that strikes us in his account is +its highly organised condition. It is a self-sufficing little +commonwealth, in which a quite surprising variety of professions or +occupations are represented.—<i>Pall Mall Gazette</i> (London).</p> + +<p>We welcome this little book as a much truer picture of Indian life than +many more ambitious works.—<i>St. James's Gazette</i> (London).</p> + +<p>The work is written in admirable English—even the blank verse is +perfect. The story of Harichendra alone is worth the cost of the +volume.—<i>Literary World</i> (London).</p> + +<p>We have read with great pleasure the book, "Life in an Indian Village," +as it deals with an interesting and not at all unimportant subject in a +plain and unpretending way. Simplicity has a powerful charm of its own; +and we recommend the book to all whose heart can still be touched by +inartificial descriptions of idyllic, gently flowing, country life. He +who does not assume the tone of "India, what can it teach us?" but cares +to profit by teaching, will learn a great deal even from these simple +village tales.—<i>Asiatic Quarterly Review</i> (London).</p> + +<p>What more England can do for India is admirably and tersely set forth in +the Introduction, which, with Mr. Ramakrishna's pleasant description of +Indian village life, deserves to be widely read.—<i>Mr. J.B. Knight, +C.I.E., in the Indian Magazine</i> (London).</p> + +<p>Books about India by intelligent travellers have their uses, and books +by Europeans who have lived for years in the country and studied the +people are still more valuable, but it is only a native of India who can +really show us Indian life as it is. There are already several books in +English, by educated Indians, which give us valuable insight into what +was once the unknown of Indian domestic and social life. Mr. T. +Ramakrishna, whose "Life in an Indian Village" is introduced to the +notice of the British public by Sir M.E. Grant Duff, has produced a +series of very interesting sketches of the more important features of +village life in the South of India. They will be found to be very +readable, sometimes amusing, always interesting and instructive. Any +one who reads this book with intelligence and care will be able to form +for himself a very accurate picture of a Madras village, and to +understand the composition of the village community, which is the basis +of the whole framework of Indian social life.—<i>Scotsman</i> (Edinburgh).</p> + +<p>Mr. Ramakrishna's book is picturesque and sympathetic.—<i>Manchester +Guardian</i>.</p> + +<p>A well-written book, and one which gives a realistic description of +a condition of life which is the outcome of centuries of +isolation,—<i>Leeds Mercury</i>.</p> + +<p>It is not an easy thing to acquire a clear conception of a life and a +civilisation other in every respect to our own, and it may be reasonably +questioned if one Englishman in a thousand has more than a very vague +idea of what life in an Indian village is like. Here is a pleasant and +graphic little volume. He may acquire that knowledge from the sketches +of an Indian gentleman who knows the subject through and through, and +has, moreover, so much of European culture that he is able to present +the facts in a form that will not seem strange or +incredible.—<i>Birmingham Post</i>.</p> + +<p>A volume issued by Mr. T. Fisher Unwin, "Life in an Indian Village," is +a sample of the kind of book relating to our Eastern Empire that we +should like to see multiplied. It is the production of a scholarly +native, T. Ramakrishna, B.A., who writes excellent idiomatic English +without the slightest tendency to Johnsonian eloquence.—<i>Christian +Leader</i> (Glasgow).</p> + +<p>The manners and customs of the people are vividly reflected in these +pages, and a picturesque account is given of a number of notabilities, +such as the physician, &c.—<i>Speaker</i> (London).</p> + +<p>The book cannot fail to fulfil the author's desire in exciting a deeper +interest in the people whom he so sympathetically introduces to the +British public.—<i>Independent</i> (London).</p> + +<p>Written with much naïveté.—<i>British Weekly</i> (London).</p> + +<p>The author of this book deserves our thanks and congratulations. Himself +a highly educated native of the Madras Presidency, he has drawn a series +of pictures of the village life of Southern India.... The occupations, +the recreations, the religion, the distribution of labour, the +recurrence of feast and festival, with much more, are all told in +amusing style and with such graphic power as to leave a vivid impression +upon the reader's mind.—<i>Bookseller</i> (London).</p> + +<p>Madras should indulge some measure of pride in having turned out a +University graduate who can write the English language better than most +Englishmen. Ramakrishna's "Life in an Indian Village" is a charming +account of Dravidian homes and customs. It is the work of a young man +who has profited by Western enlightenment, and yet feels a kindly glow +in his heart for all that belongs to the humblest folk in his native +land. His sympathy is beautiful, because it is devoid of any pretence or +forced pathos. His language is choice, yet simply constructed. There is +real literary flavour about this work, which has just been published by +Fisher Unwin. When will the Punjab give us a young man who can feel and +think and write like this?—<i>Civil and Military Gazette</i> (Lahore).</p> + +<p>Mr. T. Ramakrishna, a graduate of the Madras University, may be +congratulated on the success which seems likely to attend the +publication of his well-written little book on "Indian Village Life." +Judging by the comments that have appeared in the English papers, it is +just the kind of book the public at home wants, not too statistical to +be readable, and not too ambitious in design to be trustworthy, but just +a simple, picturesque account of the particular part of India which the +author really knows.—<i>London Correspondent of the Englishman</i> +(Calcutta).</p> + +<p>The great virtue of Mr. Ramakrishna's writing is the absence of pretence +and fustian. Space is not wasted on ambitious and worthless descriptions +of scenery, or on vague disquisitions of a sentimental character. +Everywhere he is simple, straightforward, and effective.... Writing in +excellent English, and in unexceptionable style, he tells plainly and +simply what he has to say, and is the more successful because he is less +ambitious.... It is to be hoped that Mr. Ramakrishna's interesting +sketches of Southern Indian village life will obtain a wide circulation +in England. He is to be congratulated on having produced a work of no +little merit and originality.—<i>Madras Mail</i>.</p> + +<p>To doubters of the good results of Western education in this Presidency, +better proof could hardly be given than is provided.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Ind, by T. 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Ramakrishna + +Release Date: February 15, 2004 [EBook #11096] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF IND *** + + + + +Produced by Christine De Ryck and the PG Online Distributed Proofreaders. + + + + +TALES OF IND + +_AND OTHER POEMS_ + + +BY + +T. RAMAKRISHNA + + + +1896 + + + + + TO + THE MEMORY OF + MY DEAR DAUGHTER + KAMALA. + + + The star that rose to cheer our humble life, + And make a little heaven of our home, + Shall rise again--yes, surely rise again + To give us everlasting joy divine. + + + + + + + CONTENTS. + + + TO MY DAUGHTER + + LORD TENNYSON + + SEETA AND RAMA--A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE + + THE STORY OF PRINCE DESING + + THE STORY OF RUDRA + + THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS + + CHANDRA--A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKOTA + + THE KORATHY'S LULLABY + + + + +_LORD TENNYSON._ + + + A poet of my native land has said-- + The life the good and virtuous lead on earth + Is like the black-eyed maiden of the East, + Who paints the lids to look more bright and fair. + The eyes may smart and water, but withal + She loves to please them that behold her face. + E'en so, my Master, thine own life has been. + Thy songs have pleased the world, thy thoughts divine + Have purified, likewise ennobled man. + And what are they, those songs and thoughts divine, + But sad experience of thy life, dipt deep + In thine own tears, and traced on nature's page? + To please and teach the world for two dear ones + You mourned--a friend in youth, a son in age + 'Tis said the life that gives one moment's joy + To one lone mortal is not lived in vain; + But lives like thine God grants as shining lights + That we in darkness Him aright may see. + Nay more, such lives the more by ills beset + Do shine the more and better teach His ways. + Alas! thou'rt gone that wert so kind to one + Obscure--a stranger in a distant land. + Accept from him this wreath uncouth of words + Which do but half express the grief he feels. + + + + +_SEETA AND RAMA_. + +A TALE OF THE INDIAN FAMINE. + + + It was by far the loveliest scene in Ind:-- + A deep sunk lonely vale, 'tween verdant hills + That, in eternal friendship, seemed to hold + Communion with the changing skies above; + Dark shady groves the haunts of shepherd boys + And wearied peasants in the midday noon; + A lake that shone in lustre clear and bright + Like a pure Indian diamond set amidst + Green emeralds, where every morn, with songs + Of parted lovers that tempted blooming maids + With pitchers on their heads to stay and hear + Those songs, the busy villagers of the vale + Their green fields watered that gave them sure hopes + Of future plenty and of future joys. + Oh, how uncertain man's sure hopes and joys! + In this enchanted hollow that was scooped-- + For so it seemed--by God's own mighty hand, + Where Nature shower'd her richest gifts to make + Another paradise, stood Krishnapore + With her two score and seven huts reared by + The patient labour of her simple men. + + In this blest hamlet one there was that owned + Its richest lands: beloved by all its men, + Their friend in times of need, their guide in life, + Partaker of their joys and woes as well, + The arbiter of all their petty strifes. + By him his friend the village master lived + That at his door a group of children taught; + A man he was well versed in ancient lore; + And oft at night, when ended was their toil, + The villagers with souls enraptured heard him + In fiery accents speak of Krishna's deeds + And Rama's warlike skill, and wondered that + He knew so well the deities they adored. + One only daughter this schoolmaster had, + And Seeta was her name, the prettiest maid + In all the village, nursed by the fond cares + Of her indulgent sire, and loved with all + The tender feelings that pure love inspires + By the rich villager's only son, the heir + Of all his father's wealth; the best at school, + The boldest of the village youths at play, + And the delight of all those that saw him; + And these seemed such a fitting pair that oft + The secret whisper round the village ran + That Seeta was to wed the rich man's son. + Thus, in this Eden, its blest inmates lived + And passed their days, the villagers at the fields, + Their busy women at the blazing hearths, + The village master at his cottage door, + And Rama and fair Seeta in true love. + + Hither a monster came, that slowly sucked + The vigour, the very life of Krishnapore. + The brilliant lustre of the diamond lake, + The emerald greenness of the waving fields, + The shady groves and pleasant cottage grounds, + And all the beauties of the happy vale + Soon vanished imperceptibly, as if + Some unconsuming furnace underneath + Had baked the earth and rendered it all bare, + Until its inmates wandered desolate, + With hollow cheeks, sunk eyes, and haggard faces, + Like walking skeletons pasted o'er with skin. + No more would blooming girls with pitchers laden + Repair to the clear lake while curling smoke + Rose from their cottage roofs; no more at morn + Would Rama be the first at school to see + His Seeta deck her father's house with flowers; + No more at eve the village master pour + From Hindu lore the mighty deeds of gods + To the delighted ears of simple men; + For these have left their lands and their dear homes. + And Seeta with her father left her cot, + And cast behind, with a deep, heavy sigh, + One ling'ring look upon that vale where she + Was born and fondly nursed,--where glided on + Her days in pleasure and pure innocence,-- + Where Rama lived and loved her tenderly. + Her father died of hunger on the way, + And the lone creature wandered in the streets + Of towns from door to door, and vainly begged + For food, till some, deep moved by the sad tales + Of the lone straggler, safely lodged her in + A famine camp, where, heavy laden with + A double sorrow (for her lover too, + She thought, had died), her tedious life she spent. + And days and weeks and months thus rolled away, + Until at last her love for the dead youth + Mysterious waned, and, like a shallow lamp, + Burnt in her breast with nothing to feed it. + + One day the news went through the famine shed + That a lean youth, plucked from the very arms + Of cruel death, was tenderly nursed there; + And all its inmates hurried to the scene. + Poor Seeta saw the youth, and that sad sight + She ne'er forgot; the youth was in her mind + Too firmly rooted to be rooted out, + Who ev'ry day in strength and beauty grew, till he + Appeared the fairest youth in all the camp. + First pity for the youth, then love for him + Mysterious came to her, until at last + The flick'ring flame shone sudden in her breast. + "This stranger I must wed, for him I love, + I know not how; that pleasant face is like + The face of him I dearly loved; I see + Appearing ev'ry day upon that face, + As if by magic wrought, those beauties that + Were seated on dead Rama's face." Thus mused + This maiden of the camp, and the fair youth + Thus kindled in her breast the hidden flame + Of love and fed it ever with new strength, + Which shone again in all its purity. + + As the moon whose effulgence hidden lies + When dimmed by clouds, suddenly blazes forth + And in her wonted beauty shines again + What time she darts into the cloudless vault, + So shone again in lovely Seeta's breast + The lamp of love by clouds of sorrow dimmed. + The smothered passion suddenly blazed forth + In brighter lustre, and to her returned + With double force, as when the flaming fire + Is smothered when more fuel is on it thrown, + And straightway flames and gives a brighter light. + + At last the monster left the land, the camp + Was broke, its inmates left it for their homes. + England, would that one of thy sons were there + To hear what words, what blessings now burst from + Their inward hearts for nursing them when they + From all estranged had poured into thine arms! + Poor Seeta hastened to the youth she loved, + And to him with a gladdened heart thus spake:-- + Her rosy lips, just oped to speak, were like + A half-blown rosebud blossoming all at once; + Such magic was wrought on her ere she spake: + "Kind stranger, whither goest thou? I am + A lonely maiden, and friends I have none; + And thee alone I trust as my safe guide + To Krishnapore." + "Dear maid! thy sorrows cease; + My way now lies through Krishnapore: fear not, + I shall restore thee to thy home and friends; + Trust me as your safe guide and dearest friend." + She, overjoyed, recounted to the youth + Her tale--how she, her father's only hope + And pride, reluctant left their native vale + And cottage home; how he died on the way, + And she, a lonely creature, wandered in + The streets from door to door and begged for food; + How she was taken to the famine camp; + How he, with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, + Was brought one day and there nursed tenderly; + And how in beauty ev'ry day he grew + Until like her dead Rama he appeared. + The village youth, unable any more + Now to suppress him, suddenly exclaimed, + "Look here, whose name is on this arm tattooed?" + "O Rama, Krishna, Govinda, and all + Ye Gods that I adore, ye have blest me; + This is the happiest moment in my life, + And this the happiest spot in all the earth, + For now my long-lost Rama I have found." + So saying, she intently gazed on him. + + As a rich mine pours forth its hidden wealth + To the delight of those that day and night + Court eagerly its treasures them t' enrich; + So from this lovely pair's deep mine of feelings, + What honeyed words escaped now through their lips + To their intense joy, better far than all + The treasures any ample mine bestows! + With sweet talk they beguiled their tedious way; + The verdant hills sublime rose to the view; + The broad lake glittered diamond-like again; + And wreathing smoke curled from the cottage roofs; + The lovely vale became the lovely vale + Again, and all the long forgotten scenes + In quick succession flowed before them both; + And never was a happier marriage seen + In all that happy vale of Krishnapore. + + + + +_THE STORY OF PRINCE DESING_. + + + It was the month of May, and glorious rose + The sun on Jinji, bathing in his light + Her lofty hills, her ancient walls and towers, + Her battlements, and all the glittering scene + That bade the stranger tell--"here lives a prince;" + And greeting late, as if too long he slept + Upon his ocean bed, the eager crowd + That in their best attire at early dawn + Fast gathered from their hamlets far and wide, + And like a hive swarmed on the castled hills. + + Perhaps some village poet waited there, + Who day and night toiled hard in metres rare + To sing the deeds and virtues of his prince + And trace them on the leaves of that lone palm + Which stood close by his humble cottage home. + Perhaps with faces that bespoke deep grief + A troop of farmers there had come to tell + To their sport-loving prince the havoc wrought + Upon their toiling cattle by wild beasts + That nightly from their hill abodes came down + To feast on them. And in that motley crowd + Were servants of the state and many more + Who long had waited merely for a glimpse + Of their just ruler Desing holding court. + + But soon there echoed through the lofty hills + The sound of th' Indian bugle and the drum + Proclaiming the arrival of the prince; + And often, as the new flood rushing down + With the still waters of a sleeping stream, + Leaves nought behind, and all is vacancy, + Or as the dim light of a shallow lamp + Suddenly blazes forth and soon is quenched, + So louder rose the clamour of the crowd + At the sound of the bugle and the drum, + Then straightway in deep silence died away, + And perfect stillness reigned everywhere. + + Upon his gorgeous throne sat Jinji's prince + With servants fanning him on either side; + And in a place of honour sate in that + Capacious hall his holy Brahmin priest, + The master of his well-trained army there, + The chief and trusted min'ster of the state, + The aged poet that his praises sang, + The sage that, versed in all the starry lore, + His royal master's fortunes daily told; + The painter that adorned those ancient walls, + And countless other servants of the prince + There gathered each in his accustomed seat. + + Then from the gate approached a trusty page, + And said with folded hands and trembling lips-- + "O royal master, at the gate there waits + A man of noble mien from the far north + Requesting audience on affairs of state." + "Conduct him to our presence," said the prince. + The stranger came,--upon the floor he knelt + And said--"Thou mighty prince of these fair lands, + I come from Arcot, and the Nabob sent + His humble servant to demand of thee + Thy dues which these five years thou hast not paid. + Know, then, if these are not now duly paid, + From thee he will these broad dominions wrest, + And give them those who will his rule obey." + The angry prince made answer--"Go and tell + Your master that his vain threats move us not, + Say we will gladly meet him on the field." + So saying, from his royal seat he rose, + And to his palace instantly withdrew. + + As when a stone dropped in the middle of + A placid pool its slumb'ring waters wakes, + And the calm surface is all ruffled seen, + Or at the merest touch of ruthless man + Bent on the honeyed treasures of the hive + Those myriad ones leave murm'ring to the foe + Their hoarded wealth to which they fondly clung, + So scattered to their distant native homes + The bustling crowd that met on Jinji's hills, + When he of Arcot came to mar their joys. + + And days and months rolled on until one day + To Desing came his loyal spy and said-- + "My noble ruler, on the other side + Of the fair stream that runs through yonder plain, + There waits our foe of Arcot with his men: + Prepare to go and meet him on the field." + 'Twas even time--the warrior prince soon wrote + To Mamood Khan, the master of his troops, + To hasten to his country's duty first. + What though it was that soldier's bridal hour, + When he received his royal master's call! + "My country's welfare first, then my fair spouse," + He said, and leapt upon his faithful steed + And stood, ere morn had streaked the eastern sky, + Before his lord his bidding to obey. + + The prince rose early on that fated day + And to the temple of his God repaired, + There to invoke His blessing on the field. + Then to the palace hastened he to meet, + Ere he went forth to fight, his youthful wife, + Who day by day in beauty grew amidst + A score of maidens, like the waxing moon; + And, with a screen of silk between, they met. + As one lured by the fragrance of the rose + Stoops down gently to lift the truant stalk + That to the other side of the thick hedge + Shoots out alone from its own parent stem, + So fondly down stooped Jinji's noble prince + To kiss the jewelled arm of his fair spouse + Which through the screen she offered to her lord. + Prince Desing was the first who silence broke. + "My dear wife! on the day when we were wed + These eyes of mine had not e'en this arm seen, + Although on the same bridal seat we sat. + The screen which by the custom of our race + Was drawn by cruel hands hid thee from view. + So wondrous fair this arm looks that methinks + Rare beauties must be seated on thy face. + My foe hath come; fear not; I go to fight, + And come with honours loaded from the field, + A victor to rejoice with thee to-night + At the propitious hour which, by the aid + Of all his starry lore, our Brahmin sage + Hath for our nuptials named,--to gaze and scan + In silent joy what charms, what beauties rare + The hand divine has showered upon thy face, + And to recount to thee, when with thine own + My arm in friendship plays, what blood it shed, + What havoc in the Moslem camp it wrought. + So let me now depart." To which the Queen: + "I was the only daughter of my sire, + And cradled in his sinewy arms I grew; + And when upon his warrior breast I laid + My head to sleep, my mother by his side + Lulled me with songs of how in days gone by + The martial women of our noble race + Went with their husbands by their side to fight; + And one so nursed fears not the Moslem foe. + But now, alas! some evil it forebodes + That thou shouldst on this day go forth to fight." + + And as she spoke tears trickled down his eyes, + And one, a pearly drop, stole to her palm. + She felt it: instantly her hand withdrew, + And then began to speak in words like these: + "It is not meet that Jinji's valiant prince + Should like a child at this last hour shed tears + And fear to meet his foe; fear not, my lord, + To meet him like a soldier on the field. + If thou a victor comest from the fight, + We shall in joy spend our first nuptial night, + But if thou comest routed from the field, + I never more will see thy timid face + Or think that thou art born of Kshatriya race. + And if thou fallest bravely fighting, then + Remember, Prince, thou hast in me a wife + Who will not let thee pass from earth alone. + Go forth and like a warrior meet the foe. + But fear not; Runga will be on our side, + So ere thou goest kiss this hand of mine + Which from thine eyes that precious tear has sought." + So saying, this brave Rajput girl once more + To Desing offered through the screen her hand. + He lifted it and reverently kissed, + Then sallied forth resolved to win or die. + + Fierce raged the battle, but the hapless prince + Was weak to meet his foeman's myriad host; + And Mamood Khan fell bravely lighting there, + And with him many of his valiant men. + The faithful steed that through all perils bore + The prince was slain, and soon he fought on foot. + But ere the foe could capture him alive, + He hurled his heavy dagger, bared his breast, + And instantly a lifeless corpse he fell. + A few brave soldiers bore him from the field. + They hastened to the castle and before + The widowed Queen their precious burden laid. + She, nothing daunted, orders gave at once + That her attendants should prepare the pyre; + And then to her assembled men thus spake: + "My faithful men and my brave soldiers! you + Who with my lord fought nobly on the field, + I see you all weep at our hapless fate. + 'Tis God has willed we thus should end our lives. + But a worse fate shall surely soon befall + Our cruel foe--howe'er exulting now. + Weep not--there soon shall dawn another day + When from the farthest end of this vast globe + A race for valour and for virtue famed + Shall wrest his kingdom from his ruthless hands, + And everywhere your sons and your sons' sons + Shall lasting peace and happiness enjoy. + Be witness to the curse pronounced by me, + A widowed maiden at the hour of death, + Thou setting Sun and thou, O rising Moon!" + + Then as a bride in all her glory decked + Approaches with a gladdened heart t' embrace + Th' expectant bridegroom on the nuptial bed, + E'en so ascended this fair Queen the pyre, + And there embracing lay by her dear lord. + The fire was lighted and the pyre was closed, + And speedily to ashes were reduced + The lifeless husband and the living wife. + The Moslem came--heard of the death she died + Amid the flames, repented of his deed, + And, it is said, he built a lordly town[1] + In honour of the Queen, who counted it, + A sin her noble husband to survive, + And in a moment flung her life away. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: Ranipett.] + + + + +_THE STORY OF RUDRA_. + + + A deep calm sea; on the blue waters toiled, + From morn till eve, the simple fishermen; + And, on the beach, there stood a group of huts + Before whose gates old men sat mending nets + And eyed with secret joy the little boys + That gaily gambolled on the sandy beach + Regardless of their parents' daily toils. + And all the busy women left their homes + And their young ones with baskets on their heads + Filled with the finny treasures of the deep. + + A thousand yards to landward rose a town + With its broad streets, high roofs, and busy marts. + An ancient temple in the centre stood, + Where to his servant Nandi once appeared + Great Siva, it is said, in human frame. + E'en learned saints sang of the holy shrine; + And to this sacred spot from far-off lands + For adoration countless pilgrims came + And men to buy all rarest things that poured + Into her busy marts from foreign parts. + + Here in this ancient port of Nundipore + In royal splendour lived a merchant youth, + Who scarce had reached his one-and-twentieth year. + His aged father had but lately died + And left him the sole heir of all his wealth. + And Rudra--for that was the brave youth's name-- + Had heard from infant days full many tales + Of how his grandsire and his sire had braved + The perils of the deep in search of gold, + And in his bosom fondly nurtured hopes + To travel likewise on the dang'rous sea. + And oft would he to Rati, his fair wife, + Exulting tell how wisely he would trade + In foreign shores and with rare gems return; + How even princes, by those gems allured, + To court his friendship come from distant lands, + And he dictate his own high terms to them, + And thus add glory to his glorious house. + And often would she vainly plead in turn + Her desolate position and her youth. + And her dear lord implore upon her knees + For ever to dismiss his cherished thoughts + And turn to her and to their lordly wealth + Which God had given them, to live in peace. + Thus wrangled for some months the timid wife + And he whom woman's charms could not subdue + Until at last arrived th' appointed day. + The little ship was waiting in the port, + And Rudra to his youthful wife repaired + His purpose to disclose; and as at times + Clouds hover over us and darken all + The sky for days, and still no rain descends-- + But suddenly when least expected comes-- + So she to whom her husband's parting lay + In words saw it burst in reality. + + He said, "Dear Rati! well thou knowest how + I fondly wish to trade in distant realms. + The time has come for me to part from thee. + This morn a little ship was sighted here, + And she is riding yonder on the sea. + And ere the setting sun sinks down to rest + Into the western waves the little bark + Now destined to take me will leave the port; + And I have therefore one, but one short hour. + 'Tis willed by Him above that I should soon + Bid farewell to the place where I was born, + Where all my thoughts for ever centred lie,-- + Soon part from all that to my heart is dear, + But soon come richer, greater to my home, + To spend my days in joy and happiness. + Dear wife! allow me therefore to depart." + + To which the wife--"Dear husband, sad it is + To me to think that thou shouldst part from me; + But sadder still the thought that thou shouldst go + On seas to roam in lands unknown and strange, + And canst not tell when to this spot return. + There is our lordly mansion here; there is + Our wealth, and here I am thy youthful wife. + Why go away and risk thy precious life + While we enjoy our days like king and queen? + Why leave me here to pine away in grief + And loneliness? Without my lord it is + Half death to me, and I would rather die + Than see him part; hence banish from thy mind + All thoughts of going and stay here with me." + + "My wife!" he said, "why cherish idle fears? + The holy Brahmin whom thou knowest well, + So deeply versed in all the starry lore, + Tells me that I am fated to return. + It is an evil omen that thou shouldst, + Lamenting, hinder me at this last hour + And tell me not to go. Send me away + With thy good wishes, I will soon return. + By Him above that rules man's destinies, + By mother earth, by yonder setting sun, + The moon that shines up in the starry heav'ns, + By all that to his heart is sacred deemed, + And lastly by his sire whose picture hangs + On the wall there, thy husband Rudra swears + That after he returns he'll stay with thee, + And nevermore e'en think of leaving thee, + And let him therefore go in peace of mind." + + "If it is true," replied the crying maid, + "That Sita followed Rama to the woods, + And that she of the Pandus also shared + With them their toils--if ever woman's charms + Had power to move the adamantine heart + Of man, then let thy Rati go with thee + To share with thee thy joys and woes as well. + If thou shouldst go alone, remember then, + Dear lord, the sin rests solely on thy head + That a young maiden has been left alone + To mourn for ever for her husband on + The seas--and all for gold and for a name." + + "A _name_ thou sayest--never, never would + Thy Rudra die unhonoured and unknown + And bear the evil name and the reproach + For ever with his sons and his sons' sons, + That of his old illustrious family + He was the only one that feared to go + Upon the sea. The sun is going down, + And cruel darkness is invading fast + On us; and soon the ship will leave the port. + Within a year thou shalt see me again. + But if 'tis ruled by God that I should not + Return, to one thing listen ere I go. + To soothe thy spirits in a few short months + An infant will be lying on thy lap, + And if a daughter she should be, let her + Be married to one worthy of our race. + But if a son is born tend him with care; + When he grows old, let it be said of him + That he is his lost father's worthy son." + And when the few last awful words were spoke + The frighted wife that stood supported by + Her lord at once grew pale and motionless. + As one that watched with anxious care the growth + Of a young tendril slowly fixes it + Upon a new and stronger prop, e'en so + Brave Rudra extricated himself from + Her grasp and gently placed her on the couch; + Then gazed on her for a few moments with + His hands upon her throbbing temples, kissed + Her brow, and straightway vanished from the room. + + And now the little ship in which he sailed + Safe bore the crew along the wat'ry waste, + And after twenty days' fast sailing she + Encountered on the way a storm, was wrecked, + And all save Rudra perished in the waves. + The shipwrecked merchant lost all that he had, + And wandered through a distant country with + No friends, no money but his hands to earn + For him his daily bread: the lonely youth + Thus dragged for years his miserable life + With nothing to make it worth living save + The hope, the only hope, to see his wife; + Till at the end of twenty years a ship + Was sighted that was bound for Nundipore. + In it he sailed and safely landed in + His native port. It was the midday noon; + He saw the selfsame fishing village that + Stood years ago upon the sandy beach, + And with a joyful heart he hastened to + His house which all deserted seemed; inside + With falt'ring steps he went, and on the walls + Of the big hall were hanging pictures of + His sire, of Krishna playing on the flute, + Of Rama, Siva, and the other gods + Whom in his childhood days his house adored, + And seemed as they were drawn but yesterday; + A thousand other old familiar scenes + In quick succession passed before his eyes, + Then quickly passed into a room, where lo! + There slept a youth and she for whom for years + Life's toils he patient bore. As one born blind + Had after years of pray'r the gift of sight + Vouchsafed to him by God, his Maker, to + Behold the beauties of the universe, + His wife, his children, and those dear to him, + But straightway feels the precious gift withdrawn; + Or as a lonely bird that unawares + Has wandered far into the deep blue sea + Finds nothing but a wat'ry waste all round, + And knows not where to rest its wearied limbs, + But at a distance kens at last a ship + To which with doubled speed it flies and flies, + And there discerns a seaman with his bow + Preventing it from sitting on the mast-- + So Rudra felt. "Is this my wife?" he thought. + "Yes, by the mole upon her cheek she is; + And beauty, spite of age, still lingers on + Her face, and this fair youth, attracted by + Her charms, came here. Why hast Thou brought me home, + O God! why was I not drowned in the sea? + Why did I leave that distant country where + These twenty years I toiled for bread and lived? + And why was I not spared this ghastly sight? + No, Rati! never would thy husband bear + To see thee lying with another man. + First he will kill you both, then die himself." + So saying, from a sheath a blade he drew, + When lo! there fell the piece of a palm leaf + Whereon were writ--_think well before you do_. + "This is," he said, "my father's dying gift; + By the advice here giv'n I will abide," + Then woke his wife, and in firm tones thus asked, + "Who is this youth that has defiled my bed? + Speak ere I strike you both." The wond'ring wife + The dagger and the stranger saw and cried-- + "Kill me alone, but spare my only son." + "Thy only son!" he said; "now wake him up, + And let us all adore our Maker first, + Who saved us from my frenzy, which in one + Short moment would have shattered all our bliss." + + + + +_THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS_. + + + It was a land of plenty and of wealth; + There God's indulgent hand made for a race + Supremely blest a paradise on earth. + A land of virtue, truth, and charity, + Where nature's choicest treasures man enjoyed + With little toil, where youth respected age, + Where each his neighbour's wife his sister deemed, + Where side by side the tiger and the lamb + The water drank, and sported oft in mirth. + A land where each man deemed him highly blest + When he relieved the miseries of the poor, + When to his roof the wearied traveller came + To share his proffered bounty with good cheer. + Such was the far-famed land of Panchala. + + Here reigned a king who walked in virtue's path, + Who ruled his country only for his God. + His people's good he deemed his only care, + Their sorrows were his sorrows, and their joys + He counted as his own; such was the king + Whose daily prayers went up to Him on high + For wisdom and for strength to rule his men + Aright, and guard the land from foreign foes. + Such was the far-famed king of Panchala. + + An only son he had--a noble prince, + The terror of his foes, the poor man's friend. + He mastered all the arts of peace and war, + And was a worthy father's worthy son. + What gifts and graces men as beauties deem + These Nature freely lavished on the youth, + And people loved in wonder to behold + The face that kindled pleasure in their minds. + The courage of a warrior in the field, + A woman's tender pity to the weak-- + All these were centred in the royal youth. + His arrows killed full many a beast that wrought + Dread havoc on the cattle of the poor. + Such was the famous prince of Panchala. + + The people, they were all true men and good, + Their ruler they adored, for by their God + He was ordained to rule their native land. + They freely to their king made known their wants, + And he as freely satisfied their needs, + And e'en the meanest of the land deemed it + The basest act to sin against his king. + Such were the people of the ancient land + Of Panchala, who stood one day with tears + Before their king to pour their plaintive tales + Of ruin wrought upon their cattle by + The tiger of the forest, that all day + Was safe in his impenetrable lair, + But every night his dreaded figure showed + And feasted on the flesh of toiling beasts. + + The king gave ear to their sad tales of woe, + And straightway called his only son, and said-- + "Dear son! my people's good I value more + Than thine own life. Go therefore to the woods + With all thine arrows and thy trusty bow, + And drag the dreaded tiger from his den, + And to their homes their wonted peace restore. + His spotted skin and murderous claws must soon + Be added to the trophies of the past, + Now hanging on our ancient palace walls." + The prince obeyed, and to the forest went: + Three days and nights he wandered in the woods, + But still found not the object of his search. + He missed his faithful men and lost his way, + Till worn and weary underneath a tree, + Whose shady boughs extended far and wide, + The lonely straggler stretched his limbs and slept, + And for a time forgot his dire distress. + + He woke, and thus addressed himself with tears: + "Here I am left deserted and alone, + Perchance my faithful people at this hour + Are vainly searching for their hapless prince, + While I die here of hunger and of thirst. + And gladly would I welcome now the brute + That has attracted me to this strange spot, + To plunge his claws into my body, tear + My flesh, and break my bones, and feast on me + By gnawing them between his horrid jaws, + And so spare me from this slow lingering death." + + So thought the royal youth of his sad doom, + When lo! a spotless figure, with a bow, + A pouch with arrows dangling on her back, + A hatchet in her hand for cutting wood, + And with a pitcher on her head, appeared. + Here every day she came to gather wood, + And, dressed in male attire, her heavy load + Took to the nearest town, sold it, then reached, + At close of day to cook the ev'ning meal, + Her cottage on the outskirts of the wood, + Where, with her sire, bent down with years, she lived, + And dragged her daily miserable life. + Such was the maid that was upon that day, + As if by instinct, drawn to the fair youth, + And such the huntress Radha he beheld. + A fairer woman never breathed the air-- + No, not in all the land of Panchala. + + The maid in pity saw his wretched plight, + Then from the pitcher took her midday meal, + And soon relieved his hunger and his thirst. + The grateful prince, delighted, told his tale, + And she, well pleased, thus spake: "Fair youth! grieve not, + Behold the brook that yonder steals along, + To this the tiger comes at noon to quench + His thirst. Then, safely perched upon a tree, + We can for ever check his deadly course," + Both went, and saw at the expected hour + The monarch of the forest near the brook. + In quick succession, lightning-like from them + The arrows flew, and in a moment fell + His massive body lifeless on the ground. + Then vowing oft to meet his valiant friend, + The prince returned, and with the happy news + Appeared before the king, who blest his son + And said: "My son! well hast thou done the deed; + Thy life thou hast endangered for my men; + Ask anything and I will give it thee." + "I want not wealth nor power," the prince replied, + "But, noble father I one request I make. + I chanced to meet a huntress in the wood, + And Radha is her name; she saved my life. + I but for her had died a lingering death, + Her valour and her beauty I admire, + And therefore grant me leave to marry her." + + The king spake not, but forthwith gave command + To banish from his home the reckless youth, + Who brought disgrace upon his royal house, + And who, he wished, should wed one worthy of + The noble race of ancient Panchala. + Poor youth! he left his country and his home, + He that was dreaded by his foes was gone. + + Vain lust of power impelled the neighbouring king, + The traitor who usurped his sovereign's throne, + To march on Panchala with all his men. + He went, and to the helpless king proclaimed-- + "Thou knowest well my armies are the best + On earth, and folly it will be in thee + To stand 'gainst them and shed thy people's blood. + Send forth thy greatest archer, and with him + My prowess I will try: this will decide + If you or I should sit upon the throne, + And whether Panchala is thine or mine." + The king, bewildered, knew not what to do, + But soon two maidens, strangers to the land, + Met him, and, of the two, the younger said-- + "O righteous king! we left our distant homes + To visit shrines and bathe in holy streams. + We have been wandering in many climes, + And yesternight this place we reached, and heard + Your loyal people speak of your sad plight. + In early youth I learned to use the bow-- + I pray thee, therefore, send me forth against + The wretch that dares to wrest this land from thee." + + And ere the treacherous wretch could string his bow, + A pointed arrow carrying death with it, + Like lightning flew from forth the maiden's hands, + Pierced deep into his head, that plans devised + To kill his royal master and once more + Thought ill of Panchala and her good king. + His body lifeless lay upon the field. + + Then spake the maiden to the grateful king:-- + "Thou, noble ruler of this ancient land! + Before thy sacred presence and before + All these assembled in thy royal court, + I will reveal my story, sad but true. + I am the only child of him that ruled + The neighbouring state, whose kings for centuries + In peace and friendship lived with Panchala. + Alas! the villain, whom my arrow gave + To crows and to the eagles of the air, + Usurped my father's throne, and sad to tell, + He instant orders gave to murder us. + The menials sent to do the cruel deed + Felt pity for the fallen king and me, + His only daughter, in the woods left us + And went away, reporting they had done + The deed; and there, in that deserted place, + Unknown we lived a wretched life for years. + And glad I am that death ignoble, which + The wretch deserved, has now befallen him. + + "This person standing here--I now remove + The veil, and, by the mole upon his breast, + Behold in him thine own begotten son-- + Was by thy orders banished from the land. + Grant that I now may plead for him, because + A woman's words can sooner soothe the heart. + I crave your Majesty to pardon him + For loving me, and take him back unto + His father's home; grant also, gracious king, + That I, a princess, may be worthy deemed + Of being wedded to thine only son." + + + + +_CHANDRA_. + +A TALE OF THE FIELD OF TELLIKOTA, A.D. 1565. + + +At length the four great Mahometan governments, A'dil Shah, Nizam Shah, +Barid, and Kutb Shah, formed a league against Ram Raja, then ruling at +Bijayanagar. A great battle took place on the Kishna, near Talicot, +which, for the numbers engaged, the fierceness of the conflict, and the +importance of the stake, resembled those of the early Mahometan +invaders. The barbarous spirit of those days seemed also to be renewed +in it; for, on the defeat of the Hindus, their old and brave raja, being +taken prisoner, was put to death in cold blood, and his head was kept +till lately at Bijapur as a trophy. + +This battle destroyed the monarchy of Bijayanagar, which at that time +comprehended almost all the South of India. But it added little to the +territories of the victors; their mutual jealousies prevented each from +much extending his frontier; and the country fell into the hands of +petty princes, or of those insurgent officers of the old government, +since so well known as zemindars or poligars. + +The brother of the late raja removed his residence further east, and +finally settled at Chandragiri, about seventy miles north-west of +Madras, at which last place his descendant first granted a settlement to +the English.--_Elphinstone_. + + + The setting sun sank slowly in the west, + The village labourer from the threshing-floor + Hied home full laden with the gathered corn, + When soon there came, as from a cage just freed, + Two lovely doves intent to peck the grain + That scattered lay upon the vacant field. + Between these birds, by instinct closely linked, + Attachment fond had grown. It seemed, indeed, + That God for speech denied to them had given + Sense exquisite to know each other's ways. + Not all the speech of favoured man in truth + Could meaning make more clear or deeply felt + Than one soft motion of the slender frame, + One gentle murmur from the tiny throat. + The wife more bold, yet pausing oft to scan + Her lord, adventurous strayed with timid steps, + Unconscious all of aught to mar their joys. + Just then with steady poise on outstretched wing + A hungry falcon hovered over her, + Resolved with one fell swoop to seize his prey, + His talons bury in her tender flesh, + Lift her away to some sequestered spot, + There drink her blood in leisure undisturbed, + And break her bones and her torn flesh devour. + At early morn upon that selfsame day + A huntsman sallied forth in search of food, + And, wandering luckless all day long, at last + Did chance upon this bird. Behind a bush + He quickly crept, and straightway strung his bow. + A gladsome vision suddenly appeared-- + He saw his wife and children in their home + Enjoy the dove's well spiced and roasted flesh. + But lo! a gentle flutter of the leaves + By eagerness unconscious caused, to her + Revealed the huntsman take his deadly aim. + With head uplifted and with wings outstretched + She flight essayed, but saw the falcon near. + Thus scared and terror-struck she lay resigned + To fall by deadly arrow pierced, and give + Her lifeless form to feed the hungry bird. + The keen-eyed huntsman saw that lifted head + And open wings meant flight and sure escape. + He therefore quickly aimed his arrow high, + Which flying pierced the falcon nearing down. + That selfsame moment when the arrow flew, + When all his thoughts were centred on the bird, + The huntsman pressed his foot upon a snake + That in the bush lay coiled. Writhing with pain, + The snake poured deadly poison from its fangs. + The huntsman and the falcon both fell dead + Before the helpless dove; and foes that came + To work her woe had worked each other woe. + The loving pair together flew away, + Their life of joy and freedom to renew. + + Lo such the story of two human lives! + To them, as happens oft, abundant share + Of Nature's choicest gifts brought many ills. + But noble lives are thus more noble made, + As shining gold oft-heated shines the more. + Over the ancient land of Vijiapore[2] + There reigned a king for truth and valour known. + The lovely Chandra[3] was his only child, + Who like the moon among the stars of heaven + Shone fairest 'mong the daughters of the land. + The father fondly hoped his child would wed + A neighbouring prince, the mighty ruler of + An ancient kingdom richer than his own; + The mother she would be the worthy spouse + Of him who was her brother's only son + And trusted minister of Vijiapore. + But one there was, a courtier of the land, + A youth, yet full of counsel wise and true, + And ever ready to obey his master's will. + The terror of his foes, a hunter bold, + He rode the fleetest horse with ease and grace, + The wildest elephant his might could tame, + And horned bulls knew well his steady grip. + Him Chandra wished to wed, and in her breast + With silent hope her love for him kept warm. + The years sped on, the father fondly dreamt + She soon would be the queen of two proud realms, + The mother that her future lord would be + Both king and minister of state. Meanwhile + Fair Chandra and her noble Timmaraj + Longed for the consummation of their love. + A flower there is, the fairest flower in Ind, + A flower beloved by poets of all time, + Whose beauties lovers ever love to tell, + And liken oft to woman's thousand charms. + This flower, the stately lotus of our Ind, + Its petals closes to the moon at eve, + And all its beauties hides through silent night, + But with the rising of the morning sun + Opens and swells, its beauty full displays, + And sweetest fragrance breathes when fiercest beat + The rays. E'en so fair Chandra, though oft told + She womanhood had long ago attained, + And soon must wed one worthy of her race, + Nought heeded when alternate to her view + Were brought the prowess of the neighbouring king, + The wisdom of the pilot of the state. + To wean her love from noble Timmaraj, + He forth was sent against his country's foes, + With his small band to fall, and ne'er return. + But oft as he was sent, as often he + Returned victorious with fresh laurels gained. + And when the bards before the king and queen + Recited in the ancient palace hall + The battles bravely won, the glories of + The war, fair Chandra's face with joy, e'en like + The lotus, beamed, and as by magic charmed, + Disclosed a thousand beauties centred there. + Though silent she, her looks to all made known + Her love for Timmaraj, the author brave + Of all his country's good. Yet still she kept + A seal upon her lips, until by chance + An incident occurred which sealed her fate. + As on the sand near by the water's edge + One thoughtless stands to watch with eager eyes + The surf that beats continuous on the shore, + And suddenly when least expected flows + A wave that reaches far beyond the rest, + So stood the king and queen of Vijiapore + In parents' place, tempting their daughter fair + To marry whom she loved not, could not love, + When Chandra suddenly her mind declared. + Down through the stillness of a narrow vale + The lovely Pampa flows, whose course is shaped + By hills that lift their summits to the sky. + On either side, her course is like the life + Inconstant of the daughters of this land, + Who lived in times of old in castles set + Amidst rich groves and cool, pellucid streams, + And woodlands broad and fair to roam at will; + But these by moats and battlements enclosed + Were made impassable that the eyes impure + Of man might not upon their beauty gaze, + And so defile their virgin purity. + For all that here delighted woman's eyes + Was freely lavished by their royal sires; + And countless guards to watch all day were there, + And maidens numberless to sport with them + And while away their tedious hours of life + With tales of youth, who, bolder than the rest, + Leapt over moats and scaled steep battlements + To have a glimpse of those more dear than life, + But who, alas! were doomed to endless woe, + And sent to pine away in dungeons dark + For tainting with their feet forbidden ground. + But soon their life was changed--the royal bride, + Before the happy bridal hour began, + Was first by all her kindred freely seen, + And straightway taken to the palace hall + To choose and then make known her future lord + From anxious suitors there, and thenceforth spend + With him her days of freedom and of joy.[4] + E'en so, none dared, so fearful is the gorge, + To gaze upon the river's loveliness, + Except those inmates of the mountain caves, + That in the noontide hour, to quench their thirst, + Climb down, regardless of the huntsman's bow, + Or save the vultures of the air, those birds + Which, soaring on majestic wings aloft, + Alight, as if by instinct drawn, upon + Her shady margins, there to feast upon + The carcass of some beast that died of age. + But soon the valley widens, and she flows + At will, her waters sparkle in the sun, + And on her margins for grim hills are seen + Green fields, deep shady groves, and peaceful homes. + 'Tis here those mountains, that kept zealous guard + O'er Pampa, fade away from view, as if + To make amends for past unkindliness, + So leaving her to shoot into the plain + And watering Vijiapore and countless lands: + 'Twas here the village stood of Chengalpore, + The scene of many noble deeds of man + And woman's high devotion to her lord. + 'Twas here one crowded hour of Timma's life + Was worth his country's brightest annals, rich + In spoils of war and deeds of valiant men. + In that one hour of all his glorious life + He won a kingdom and a bride, for whom + He left that kingdom never to return; + And this the story of that glorious hour. + One day the news to Vijiapore was brought: + The elephant whose rich caparisoned back + The king, to please his subjects, once a year + Rode on, his keeper in a sudden fit + Of frenzy killed, and dreadful havoc wrought + Amongst the royal steeds in Chengalpore; + And now the mandate from the king went forth + That Timmaraj should slay his fav'rite beast, + For e'en the stoutest warrior of the land + Dared not approach him in his frenzied mood. + Then 'twas that Chandra suddenly her mind + Declared and boldly spake in words like these: + "It is not meet, dear father, that thou shouldst + So lightly use our only warrior's life, + Who won so many battles for his king + And added nought but glory and renown + Unto his country, and bid him thus fling + His life away before a beast insane. + Thou knowest well thy foes are ever bent + On wresting from thine hands this ancient crown, + And he alone it is that often curbs + Their pride. Yes, Timmaraj shall slay the beast, + But grant my pray'r that he shall marry me, + For often hast thou said that womanhood + I long ago attained, and soon should wed + One, therefore, worthy of our ancient house, + And gladly will I wed that warrior bold, + That shall, before to-morrow's sun has set, + Unto the portals of thy palace here + Bring dead the beast, that now at Chengalpore + Is working havoc on thy noble steeds." + The king to this his consent gladly gave, + Assured that Timma by the angry beast + Would be destroyed and never would return; + And so the second mandate was proclaimed + And sent to Chandra's other suitors too, + _That he shall win the daughter of the king + Who slays the beast before the morrow's close._ + The morrow came, and, ere the warrior youth + Leapt on his faithful steed, at early morn, + A maiden stood before his gate and said, + "Brave youth! thy Chandra sent me here to say + Thou shouldst not fear to boldly face the beast; + Shouldst thou come victor back, she will be thine + And thine for ever even after death. + But shouldst thou flee from him to save thy life, + Think then thou art unworthy of her love, + And she shall not e'en see thy coward face; + But, if perchance thou fallest by the beast, + Vouchsafe to her through me with thine own hand + One javelin of the eight which now thou hast, + For she will not outlive her Timmaraj, + But straightway bare her breast and plunge the dart + And lifeless fall a corpse." The youth replied, + "I gladly send this javelin, but tell her + She shall not need its use, for Timmaraj + Will surely come victorious with the beast." + With javelins seven then he sallied forth + Upon his steed to win his bride or die. + Meanwhile the news was spread that Timmaraj + And that young min'ster, who these many years + Was seeking through her mother Chandra's hand, + And Bukka, ruler of the neighbouring state, + Whom she her father fondly wished should wed, + Had started on their steeds to Chengalpore; + Each vowed to be the first to drag the beast + Unto the royal city for six miles, + And there slay him before the palace gate. + The city poured her sons the sight to see, + For in the annals of their country's past + Not e'en the brightest page contained one deed + That could this glorious feat of man surpass; + And Timma was the people's fav'rite, and + They dearly wished that he should slay the beast, + Win Chandra, and become their future king. + But soon the thought of that mad beast unnerved + Both Bukka and the minister of the state. + The royal Bukka thus to himself said: + "A richer kingdom than this Vijiapore + I own, and why should I now madly stake + My life in this hard feat; 'tis easier far + To gain this Chandra and her father's throne. + I will sit hidden in the thickest bush, + Near yonder stream, by which the pathway runs-- + For Timmaraj is sure to pass that way-- + And with this arrow I will end his life. + Thereafter Chandra's love for him will fade + And die, and who is there to marry her + But I?" So thought this foolish youth, to whom + A woman's love was as inconstant as + His own resolve to fight a savage beast, + And sat within a bush to watch his prey. + He too, the pilot of the state, deemed it + A mad resolve to try the dang'rous feat, + And silent sat unnoticed and unknown + Upon the other side of that same path, + Within a secret bush by that same stream. + The one knew not the other was concealed + The fatal blow upon the selfsame prey + To deal, but fearless Timma on his horse + Approached the beast, which madly rushed on them, + To force both horse and rider to the ground + With his huge leg, and then to tear them both. + The horse was fleeter than the elephant, + Which thus the chase gave up, but still the youth + Undaunted neared the beast a second time, + And hurled with all his might a jav'lin, which + Pierced deep the temple. Thus enraged, the beast + Began the chase again, but still the steed + Was fleeter than the wearied elephant, + And once again he stopped, but Timma hurled + A second, which went deeper than the first, + And roused him all the more--and nevermore + He stopped, but towards Vijiapore the chase + Continued; for in due succession flew + Six jav'lins, lightning-like, with deadly aim. + Thus, by the angry beast pursued, he neared + At last the little stream that must perforce + Be crossed to reach the royal city gate. + Then from the pouch that dangled on his back, + His only jav'lin, with his utmost might, + Discharged, that so enraged the maddened beast, + With fury rushing, that his writhing trunk + Had all but touched the rider and his horse + In one embrace to crush them both; but soon + The keen-eyed youth the danger saw, and spurred + His horse, which bounded o'er the stream, when lo! + Two arrows crossed each other underneath. + One pierced the min'ster dead; the other pierced + The royal Bukka, who unconscious fell. + One moment more, and at the palace gate + The wearied rider on his foaming steed + Stood, like a warrior coming with his spoils, + The beast beside him, which, worn out, fell dead. + And as the tall and massive gate of some + Old fort with spikes deep driven to withstand + The foe, who battered it incessant, falls, + And, powerless to stand the shock, at last + Falls with a crash that far and wide was heard, + So fell the beast, his massive corpse all torn + And mangled, and with jav'lins planted deep, + And when he fell from his huge throat went forth + A wail, his last, like roaring thunder, that + Resounded through the hills of Vijiapore. + Another moment and brave Timma sat + Upon the bridal seat, the veil was drawn, + And, through the veil, the sacred knot was tied + Round Chandra's neck, and all was merry there. + And still another moment when--alas! + For that strange fickleness of human life + Whose joys and griefs each other follow like + The spokes of some fast-going wheel--there came + The wounded Bukka with a violent wail + That Timma had the king's adviser slain, + Whose body lay upon the riverside, + Exposed to all the carrion birds of prey, + And him too wounded, but the arrow pierced + Not deep, but laid him senseless for awhile; + But soon, with consciousness restored, his wound + He washed, and straightway hastened on his steed, + In time to tell the story, sad but true, + And stop the marriage of that coward with + The fairest and the noblest of the land. + As when upon a tree, whose boughs with fruits + Are laden, birds innumerable sit, + Them to enjoy and to be merry there, + The cruel hand of man to mar their joys + Hurls suddenly a stone, and all the air + Around is thick with jarring sounds of birds + That in confusion fly--so fell the words + Of Bukka on that scene, where all was joy, + Where, like a beehive, swarmed the surging crowd, + To see the marriage of their princess dear; + And straightway in confusion wild they ran + Without a purpose, but in various ways. + Unto their homes some ran the news t'acquaint, + Some to the wounded Bukka and his horse, + But many to the riverside to find + Their min'ster lying dead by arrow pierced. + The sorrow-stricken king spake not a word, + But like a lifeless figure stood awhile. + A sudden fit of frenzy overtook + The king at last, and Timma's awful doom + He thundered forth in accents strong like these: + "Be this my decree, forthwith known to all, + That Timma henceforth shall be banished from + My land for this dishonour brought on me. + He paved 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 aged lion, when sore vexed, + Like thunder roaring, musters all his strength + And stands defiant to face the foe, so stood + The aged 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 undisturbed 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 preordained 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 preordained 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 preordained 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 death's pangs + Are most severe when life is plucked, and from + Sere age, when all is ready for the end, + Life unperceived goes as from one that sleeps. + The gentlest wind brings down the serest leaf. + To sever from the parent stem by force + The freshest must be plucked, and so with man. + And by the righteous and the just, when sore + Oppressed with grief, dear death is welcomed most. + When the eruptions on the skin pain most, + By cutting them relief at once is sought; + E'en so, if noble Timmaraj is killed, + Court instant death, thy dagger hurl, and bare + Thy breast and lifeless by thy husband fall, + Like that same bird that, full up to the throat, + Swallows the little pebbles of the sand, + And, soaring high aloft upon her wings, + Suddenly closes them and drops down dead + Near her dead lover, where the body bursts. + But this, if you find hard, run with thy life + To this our safe abode, where willingly + The fun'ral pyre we, with our hands, will raise + And feed the flames thy body to consume. + Hence soon depart and Krishna will help thee." + The morrow came, and Chandra sallied forth + And, as directed by her Brahmin sage, + Went with a hundred of her armed men, + All veiled, surprised the foe, who, flushed with hope, + Unguarded waited but to welcome her: + Then safely rescued her lost Timmaraj; + The fatal jav'lin wrung from Bukka's hands, + And himself too a prisoner brought in chains. + Then in the spacious palace hall, amidst + Her faithful men, the noble queen sat veiled + With Timmaraj, long absent from the throne, + And spake to Bukka, standing in the front + With folded hands, in angry words like these: + "By treach'ry thrice thou triedst to win, and thrice + Hast failed, and, when my noble Timmaraj + Went singly forth to bring the maddened beast, + Concealed thou didst aim at his life and failed. + The hand of God had otherwise decreed. + And when upon the bridal seat we sat, + And all were merry in my father's home, + Thou camest with a story, false and base, + And for our lives we had to flee, and now + Are strangers here, and when upon thy steed + Unjustly thou pursuedst us both, it was + My hand that stayed my husband killing thee, + Else long ago the worms had eaten thee; + Thy bones the jackals of the earth had tak'n; + And nothing left of thee but thine own sins. + It was thy charger innocent that paid + For them the penalty instead. Once more + You came, and, like a lawless thief concealed, + Carried my lord, when helpless and alone, + And for his freedom vile proposals made, + And for so many days these troubles wrought + On me and these my faithful loyal men. + Know well, 'tis virtue that is sure to win, + And truth and justice will prevail at last. + This very jav'lin will put thine eyes out; + But pity for thy present state prompts me + To let thee now alone--go safely home, + And henceforth never even sin in thought." + And like a criminal who, by pity freed, + At once goes forth worse sins to perpetrate, + So Bukka, vowing vengeance, left the hall, + And henceforth love and hate alternate played + In his dark breast--hate for this grave insult, + And by a woman offered, and love too, + A bestial passion for her wondrous charms; + And from that selfsame moment various plans + His head devised her pride to humble and + Her purity to sully, when alas! + The Moslems' greed of power gave him sure hopes + At last her Timma's ruin to complete. + Unto the aged king of Vijiapore + His only warrior's and his only child's + Escape brought many toils and endless woe. + That Bukka, with a perjured tale, came on + The day of marriage was made known to all, + Soon after they had left their native home. + The aged monarch knew not where they lived, + But sent his faithful servants far and wide + To bring them home; the cruel Moslems, too, + Aware that Timma's absence weakened him, + Combined a sudden rush to make upon + The royal city, kill her ruler, and + Divide the spoils and take his vast domains. + And now the wily Bukka with those foes + Of foreign faith conspired; what though he fought + As usual in the ranks of Vijiapore, + Under the banner of her Hindu king! + To them he would run in the thickest of + The fight and sudden turn the tide of war, + And, from the conquered spoils, for his own share, + He wanted neither lands nor riches, but + Demanded Chandra and her lord alive. + And news of instant war had travelled far + And wide, the princes and the chieftains poured + Their loyal forces, ready to avenge + Their Moslem foes, who, for no cause, thus dared + Their city to invade so suddenly. + And Timma hastened with his wife at last, + And was with joy received by all, who lost + All hopes of ever seeing them alive. + And soon a council in the royal hall + Was held, to name a leader and decide + How best to strike at once th' advancing foes. + Many felt proud by Timma to be led + To victory in the field or glorious death, + And many too in that assembly said + That Bukka should not join their Hindu ranks, + For he would, in the midst of battle, join + The Moslem ranks and surely bring defeat + And ruin too upon their aged king, + The noble Ramaraj of Vijiapore, + And cause their ancient kingdom's overthrow. + But said one counted high for wisdom there: + "_Do good, and so chide him that evil does_, + Is the oft-quoted saying of our true + And ancient faith, and this is but the war + For mastery 'tween different creeds and faiths, + And hence let Bukka forthwith come to fight + Against the common foes, who thus combined + To mar our ancient faith and change our lives, + And let our Ramaraj himself go forth + And lead, and everlasting glory win, + And in defence of our old Hindu faith, + Or, if he falls, let him to _Swarga_ go + To join th' immortals there; and one word more + To thee, O Timma,--bury all the past, + And Bukka for his sins forgive, and both + Go hand in hand to fight the Moslem foes. + To pardon is the spirit of our faith." + To this consent was gladly giv'n by all, + And the propitious day and hour to march + Was soon named by the holy Brahmin priest, + So deeply versed in all the starry lore. + Brave Timma sought his anxious wife ere he + Went forth to fight, and thus took leave of her. + "Dear wife! the day to march is named at last. + Your aged sire and our dear monarch leads + The war, and Bukka, as a Hindu true, + Joins us to fight against the Moslem horde, + And doubly glad I am that in this war, + With Bukka vying in the field with me, + And in the very presence of our king, + Who well rewards the val'rous and the brave, + The place of honour I will there attain + For courage true, and prove once more before + The world I am a worthy husband of + A noble wife; so let me now depart." + She made reply--"Some evil it forebodes + That Bukkaraj should thus be madly told + To join our ranks, for what is truth and God + To one so steeped in sin? And sad it is + My aged father goes with him to fight. + Trust not in him and keep a steady eye + On him, e'en if within the thickest of + The fight thou art, for any moment he + May turn the tide of war; fight till the last, + And, if thou comest back victorious from + The field, I'll be the first to welcome thee, + But, if thou fallest fighting in the field, + Or if, perhaps, it chances otherwise, + Thou art left helpless and alone, here is + Our ever ready jav'lin to kill thee. + Thy body forthwith shall be nobly borne + Unto the pyre by thine own faithful men, + And I will gladly leap upon the flames. + But if thou comest routed and alive, + Then Chandra nevermore shall see thy face." + At early morn, upon th' appointed day, + The king his faithful servants summoned, and + Before them all his only brother named + To rule the kingdom and confided all + His subjects to his care; then, at the head + Of his brave troops, out of the city marched, + Amidst the royal bards recounting in + Sweet tones the glories of his kingdom's past, + His holy priests invoking Krishna's help + And chanting sacred hymns, and in the midst + Of maidens of the martial Kshatrya race, + Proceeding to the very city gates, + And singing to their fathers, brothers, and + Their husbands in shrill notes heard far and wide, + That Swarga's gates are ever ready to + Receive the faithful if they bravely fall, + The flames are ready to take their proud wives, + But burning hell gapes wide for to devour + The cowards that run routed and alive; + Their maidens' sweet embrace awaits them not. + At last, upon the plains of Talicot, + The armies met, fierce raged the battle, and + Old Ramaraj fought nobly in the field; + And Timma too wrought dreadful havoc on + The Moslems and their ranks oft shattered, but + Alas! the ever treach'rous Bukka pounced + Sudden on his own ranks; the king was slain; + His ghastly head upon a pole was shown, + And helpless and forlorn the Hindus stood; + But, ere perfidious Bukka could run with + The Moslem foes, to capture him alive, + A faithful soldier Timma called, gave him + His Chandra's jav'lin, in his steady grip + To hold, then boldly ran his body through + And instantly fell lifeless to the ground. + A faithful few the body bore, and laid + Before the orphaned and the widowed maid + Their precious charge, and soon the pyre was raised. + Then, near the flames that brightened her bright face, + Her uncle and her people shedding tears, + Her noble husband lying cold and still, + The story of her father's cruel death + Still ringing in her ears, she took farewell. + "Dear uncle and my faithful men! grieve not: + I see a cloud, now looming yonder there, + No bigger than the hand of man, that shall + Expand and rain and water to purge all + The land of th' innocent blood shed on it, + For mother India's cup of woe is full, + And but three decades more,--there will come from + The far-off ends of this vast globe of ours,-- + A little island planted in the sea,-- + A handful of a noble race to trade, + And shall from thee ask for a plot of land, + And they shall prosper for their valour and + Shall be exalted for their righteousness. + They shall befriend the helpless and the poor, + And like the streams that seek the ocean broad, + The chickens that run to their mothers wings, + The maidens helpless and forlorn, that court + The succour of the chivalrous and the brave, + The orphans poor, the bounty of the kind, + All men of Ind, all races and all creeds + Shall to their banner flock, to live in peace + And amity; the tiger and the lamb + Their thirst shall quench both from the selfsame brook. + The giant brute before the weakly sage + Shall bow, and men shall fear to even gaze + Upon the maidens that go forth alone, + Adorned with naught but chastity, and from + All lands the wisest shall revere our faith. + He that desires our homes to plunder and + Sully the honour of our women, him + Punishment terrible shall sure await. + Three hundred years more and the little plot + Of land thou gavest shall grow and expand + Into an empire huge, unwritten yet + On hist'ry's page, and shall surpass the dreams + Of warriors bold in times of old, and like + The creepers that, entwined around the oak, + Luxuriant grow, safe from the storms that blow, + And flow'rs give forth to beautify the scene, + Her sons shall everlasting peace enjoy, + And blessings, hitherto unknown to man-- + The grandest scene for God to ever cast + His loving eyes upon, and for the world + Of man to wonder at, and there shall be + One sway, the sway of reason and of truth; + One creed, the creed of righteousness and love; + And mercy for all living things on earth; + One brotherhood, the brotherhood of man; + One fatherhood, the fatherhood of God. + But hark! there comes a shout, and yonder runs + Exulting Bukka to seize me alive. + But these kind flames are ready to save me. + Run, uncle, run at once to far-off lands + And continue thy sway in safer climes." + So saying, she leapt on the fun'ral pyre, + And speedily to ashes were consumed + The faithful wife and her departed lord. + The monarch, who thus from the Moslem ran, + In honour of this noble maiden, reared + A princely town,[5] and here the Saxon came, + And mother India was for ever blest. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 2: Vijianagar is here called Vijiapore.] + +[Footnote 3: Literally, the moon.] + +[Footnote 4: The allusion here is to the ancient custom of _Swayamvara_ +(self-choice), which is the election of a husband by a princess or a +daughter of a kshatriya at a public assembly of suitors for the +purpose.] + +[Footnote 5: Chandragiri.] + + + + +_THE KORATHY'S LULLABY._ + + +The Korathy is the tattooer of the Indian village, who offers her +services for a small fee. Hindu females are very fond of having their +bodies tattooed. The Korathy first makes a sketch of the figure of a +scorpion or a serpent on the part of the body offered to her for +tattooing, then takes a number of sharp needles, dips them in some +liquid preparation which she has ready, and pricks the flesh most +mercilessly. In a few days the whole appears green. This is considered a +mark of beauty among the Hindus. While the tattooing takes place the +Korathy sings a crude song, so as to make the person undergoing the +process forget the pain. The following is as nearly as possible a +translation of the song which I myself heard:-- + + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + Your lotus eyes can soothe the savage beast, + Your lips are like the newly blossomed rose, + Your teeth--they shine like pearls; but what are they + Before the beauties of my handiwork? + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + I've left my home, and all day hard I toil + So to adorn the maidens of the land + That erring husbands may return to them; + Such are the beauties of my handiwork. + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair; + In days of old fair Seeta laid her head + Upon the lap of one of our own clan, + When with her lord she wandered in the wilds, + And like the emerald shone her beauteous arms. + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + And often in the wilds, so it is said, + She also of the Pandus went in quest + Of one of us, but found not even one, + And sighed she was not like her sisters blest. + + Stay, darling, stay--'tis only for an hour, + And you will be the fairest of the fair. + My work is done; rejoice, for you will be + The fairest of your sisters in the land. + Rejoice for evermore, among them you + Will shine as doth the moon among the stars. + + + + +TALES OF IND, + +BY T. RAMAKRISHNA, B.A. + + +With an Introduction by the Hon. the Rev. W. MILLER, M.A., LL.D., +C.I.E., and dedicated, by permission, to the late Lord Tennyson, Poet +Laureate. + + * * * * * + +OPINIONS. + + +They are interesting and remarkable.--_Lord Tennyson_. + +It is a great pleasure to me to find that a native of South India has so +distinguished himself.--_The Right Hon. Sir M.E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I._ + +It is not often that natives succeed so well as you have done in English +versification.--_H.H. Kerala Varma, C.S.I._ + +Krishnapore irresistibly reminds us of Auburn, the fortunes of Seeta are +in many respects not unlike those of Evangeline, and some forms of +expression seem to be coined in the mint of Tennyson.... These tales +possess peculiar interest as first-fruits in poetic literature of that +amalgamation of Eastern and Western thought that is going on before us +at the present day in this country. They are tales of India, descriptive +of Indian scenery, and marked by many traits both of custom and of +feeling that are characteristic of India.... These tales--tales of +woman's constancy and woman's heroism--are pleasing in themselves; and +the language in which they are told is simple, imaginative, and marked +by a well-sustained melody. The tales are dedicated to Lord Tennyson by +"His Lordship's ardent admirer in the Far East"; and certainly they move +in the atmosphere of the Tennysonian idyll.--_Madras Christian College +Magazine_. + +Much of the versification is very pleasing, and where it is best, it +has a decided ring of Tennyson in it.... The author possesses true +poetical genius.--_Calcutta Statesman and Friend of India_. + +SEETA AND RAMA:--The story is pretty, though simple. In parts, moreover, +the author, who is anonymous, displays the true spirit of poetry, which +he (or she) will do well to cultivate.... The tributes of respect for +the heroism, purity, and constancy of women which are found in Mr. +Ramakrishna's poems are in accordance with the teaching of the +Mahabarata, as well as the spirit of the Laureate's verse. Added to this +very engaging feature of his work, there is a power of description that +is very remarkable in a man to whom English is not his mother tongue. +For example, "Seeta and Rama" commences with the following +vignette:--... "All this is in excellent taste. And the same may be said +of his delineations of character. He is never wearisome or trite, and +... he succeeds in enlisting the interest and sympathy of his reader and +in proving that--as Mrs. Grant Duff lately said--there is 'an indefinite +amount of beauty and charm in everyday life' in Southern +India."--_Madras Mail_. + +SEETA AND RAMA:--A very pretty and pathetic, though simple little story, +told in the true poetic vein, and possesses a deep melancholy +interest.... They are simple tales, told in English verse, which is +characterised by a purity and a simplicity that are very noteworthy in +an Indian writer, and which show considerable acquaintance of the +English language, especially of Tennyson's writings. Indeed, of them all +is true what was said of the first poem, not only according to the +_Christian College Magazine_, that some forms of expression seemed +coined in the mint of Tennyson, but, according to the _Statesman and +Friend of India_, that where the versification is best it has a ring of +Tennyson.--_Madras Times_. + +The style is simple and natural, and reminds us more often of Tennyson's +"Idylls of the King" than any other English poem that we can recollect +now.... Throughout, the book is most finely written in rhyme, and the +learned author has minted at the forge of Tennyson, to whom the book is +most dutifully dedicated, the sentiments of Oliver Goldsmith, Parnell, +and Byron.--_Hindu_. + +We must congratulate Mr. Ramakrishna on the success which has attended +his, no doubt, pleasing labours. He is the first Hindu graduate, so far +as we know, who has come before the public as a poet, and well does he +deserve every encouragement.--_Madras Standard_. + +This little poem is an exquisitely finished, harmonious, well-written +story of a pair of Hindu lovers.... Mr. Ramakrishna is extremely +felicitous in the choice of his words, and his descriptions are so +picturesque and vivid, and his narrative so stirring, that the reader +feels as if spell-bound by the author's great skill and power.... There +can be no manner of doubt that the hand that wrote these poems is both +strong and skilful, and was directed by a true spirit of poesy of a high +order.--_People's Friend_. + +TENNYSON COMMEMORATION MEETING.--At the meeting held in the Christian +College, Dr. Miller proposed that the chair should be taken by Mr. T. +Ramakrishna Pillai, an old student of the College, who, as many of our +readers know, has himself won no small success in the field of +poetry.--_Christian College Magazine_. + +Mr. T. Ramakrishna Pillai is probably the only one in Madras, and +certainly the only native of India in Madras, who had come into any kind +of personal contact with Lord Tennyson.--_Speech of the Hon. the Rev. +Dr. Miller at the Tennyson Commemoration Meeting_. + + + + +LIFE IN AN INDIAN VILLAGE. + +BY T. RAMAKRISHNA, B.A. + + +With an Introduction by the Right Hon. Sir M.E. GRANT DUFF, G.C.S.I. + +(_London: T. Fisher Unwin_, 1891.) + + * * * * * + +OPINIONS. + +The Occidentals led by Macaulay had too complete a victory for the good +of India. Much that they said and did was wise, but their system has +failed in many ways, and was, indeed, never intended to breed up men +interested in the past of their own land. Nearly all that has been +learned about it has been learned by the labour of Europeans, and yet +natives trained to European methods of research have facilities of kinds +for prosecuting research which we have not.... I had a great deal to say +on that subject, and on many other cognate ones in an address which I +delivered in my capacity of Chancellor of the University of Madras, +shortly before I left the country, but I do not know that it has had +much effect since, though an excellent little book by Mr. Ramakrishna on +the village life of South India is a step in the right direction. We +want, however, quite a small library of works of that kind before the +harvest that is ready for the sickle of intelligent native observers is +gathered in.--_The Right Hon. Sir M.E. Grant Duff, G.C.S.I., in the +Contemporary Review_. + +The subject is interesting, and I do not doubt from the specimen which I +saw that you would treat it in a fresh and agreeable way. What we need +in Europe is to have the reality, the actual working of these Indian +institutions which we have so often mentioned brought home to us, and +probably such a writer as yourself may do this better than a European +could do.--_The Right Hon. James Bryce, D.C.L_. + +Ramakrishna,--a literary gentleman belonging to Madras, who has written +a charming book called "Life in an Indian Village."--_Professor Eric +Robertson in Macmillan's series of Orient Readers_. + +I can name more than a dozen Indian authors whose works can fairly rank +with some of the best productions of Englishmen. The well-known author +of "Maxima and Minima," viz., the late Professor Ramachundra, was +considered by no other than De Morgan, the famous mathematician, as an +original genius of a remarkable order. A celebrated Cambridge +Mathematician once told me that he set a problem for the Mathematical +Tripos, basing it upon Ramachundra's "Maxima and Minima," and with the +exception of a few that headed the list, none were able to solve the +problem. In the late Toru Dutt, a young Bengali native Christian lady, +some of the leading literary men of England found a poet of no mean +powers. Mr. Edmund Gosse writes as follows in the preface to her poems +that have been published by an English firm: "It is difficult to +estimate what we have lost in the premature death of Toru Dutt. +Literature has no honours which need have been beyond the grasp of a +girl who, at the age of twenty-one, and in languages separated from her +own by so deep a chasm, had produced so much of lasting worth.... When +the history of the literature of our country comes to be written, there +is sure to be a page in it dedicated to this fragile exotic blossom of +song." Dr. Bandarkar of Bombay is considered to be one of the best +Orientalists of the day. A number of Bengali gentlemen have earned a +lasting fame by literary productions in English, among whom I may +mention the Rev. Lal Behari Day, late Professor in the Hooghly College, +and Mr. Dutt of the Bengal Civil Service. In our own Presidency Mr. +Ramakrishna Pillai has produced a work in English--"Village Life in +India"--that has won the praise of Sir Grant Duff.--_Professor +Satthianadhan's Lecture on Intellectual Results in India_. + +Mr. Ramakrishna takes a typical village in the Madras Presidency, "the +most Indian part of India," and shows us in half a dozen lucid chapters +that the wants of the villagers are all material--wells, roads, better +breeds of cattle, and so on--and that they do not, and will not for a +long time, care one cash for anything which happens, or which might be +made to happen, in the great outer world beyond their palm-groves and +rice-fields. There is nothing political in this pleasant little book, we +are pleased to say, although we have drawn this political moral from it. +It is a truthfully written account of native life in one of those 55,000 +villages which dot the great district--a tract much larger than the +British Isles--the daily existence of whose peaceful, and not altogether +unhappy, population it is intended to illustrate; and it can be dipped +into, or read through, with equal satisfaction and advantage,--_Daily +Telegraph_ (London). + +"Life in an Indian Village" is an amusing and clear portrayal of the +manners and customs of the inhabitants of a village in the Madras +Presidency. The author first depicts his little community, and then +proceeds to describe the avocations of all the leading personages. As +Kelambakam may be taken as a type of thousands of such villages, the +book will be found particularly interesting to those who are likely to +be brought into contact with the natives of India. Sir M.E. Grant Duff +has written an Introduction, in which he suggests how the simple +villagers can be benefited by their European neighbours.--_Morning Post_ +(London). + +The book itself is excellent, and gives a sketch of Indian village +society from inside. It is possible, however, that the ordinary English +reader will prefer to take his view of "the black men" from Mr. Kipling +rather than from a representative of the natives themselves. If he +wishes to have a native view of native life he will find it in this +work.--_Athenaeum_ (London). + +India is always fertile in surprises for English readers. We know +something of those among its peoples which have given us trouble; but +here is a "dim population" of which many Englishmen will scarcely have +heard the name--the Dravidians of the Madras Presidency, and we learn +with something like astonishment that they number more than the +inhabitants of England. The village which Mr. Ramakrishna describes for +us is one of more than fifty thousand, averaging about five hundred +inhabitants apiece. The first thing that strikes us in his account is +its highly organised condition. It is a self-sufficing little +commonwealth, in which a quite surprising variety of professions or +occupations are represented.--_Pall Mall Gazette_ (London). + +We welcome this little book as a much truer picture of Indian life than +many more ambitious works.--_St. James's Gazette_ (London). + +The work is written in admirable English--even the blank verse is +perfect. The story of Harichendra alone is worth the cost of the +volume.--_Literary World_ (London). + +We have read with great pleasure the book, "Life in an Indian Village," +as it deals with an interesting and not at all unimportant subject in a +plain and unpretending way. Simplicity has a powerful charm of its own; +and we recommend the book to all whose heart can still be touched by +inartificial descriptions of idyllic, gently flowing, country life. He +who does not assume the tone of "India, what can it teach us?" but cares +to profit by teaching, will learn a great deal even from these simple +village tales.--_Asiatic Quarterly Review_ (London). + +What more England can do for India is admirably and tersely set forth in +the Introduction, which, with Mr. Ramakrishna's pleasant description of +Indian village life, deserves to be widely read.--_Mr. J.B. Knight, +C.I.E., in the Indian Magazine_ (London). + +Books about India by intelligent travellers have their uses, and books +by Europeans who have lived for years in the country and studied the +people are still more valuable, but it is only a native of India who can +really show us Indian life as it is. There are already several books in +English, by educated Indians, which give us valuable insight into what +was once the unknown of Indian domestic and social life. Mr. T. +Ramakrishna, whose "Life in an Indian Village" is introduced to the +notice of the British public by Sir M.E. Grant Duff, has produced a +series of very interesting sketches of the more important features of +village life in the South of India. They will be found to be very +readable, sometimes amusing, always interesting and instructive. Any +one who reads this book with intelligence and care will be able to form +for himself a very accurate picture of a Madras village, and to +understand the composition of the village community, which is the basis +of the whole framework of Indian social life.--_Scotsman_ (Edinburgh). + +Mr. Ramakrishna's book is picturesque and sympathetic.--_Manchester +Guardian_. + +A well-written book, and one which gives a realistic description of a +condition of life which is the outcome of centuries of +isolation,--_Leeds Mercury_. + +It is not an easy thing to acquire a clear conception of a life and a +civilisation other in every respect to our own, and it may be reasonably +questioned if one Englishman in a thousand has more than a very vague +idea of what life in an Indian village is like. Here is a pleasant and +graphic little volume. He may acquire that knowledge from the sketches +of an Indian gentleman who knows the subject through and through, and +has, moreover, so much of European culture that he is able to present +the facts in a form that will not seem strange or +incredible.--_Birmingham Post_. + +A volume issued by Mr. T. Fisher Unwin, "Life in an Indian Village," is +a sample of the kind of book relating to our Eastern Empire that we +should like to see multiplied. It is the production of a scholarly +native, T. Ramakrishna, B.A., who writes excellent idiomatic English +without the slightest tendency to Johnsonian eloquence.--_Christian +Leader_ (Glasgow). + +The manners and customs of the people are vividly reflected in these +pages, and a picturesque account is given of a number of notabilities, +such as the physician, &c.--_Speaker_ (London). + +The book cannot fail to fulfil the author's desire in exciting a deeper +interest in the people whom he so sympathetically introduces to the +British public.--_Independent_ (London). + +Written with much naivete.--_British Weekly_ (London). + +The author of this book deserves our thanks and congratulations. Himself +a highly educated native of the Madras Presidency, he has drawn a series +of pictures of the village life of Southern India.... The occupations, +the recreations, the religion, the distribution of labour, the +recurrence of feast and festival, with much more, are all told in +amusing style and with such graphic power as to leave a vivid impression +upon the reader's mind.--_Bookseller_ (London). + +Madras should indulge some measure of pride in having turned out a +University graduate who can write the English language better than most +Englishmen. Ramakrishna's "Life in an Indian Village" is a charming +account of Dravidian homes and customs. It is the work of a young man +who has profited by Western enlightenment, and yet feels a kindly glow +in his heart for all that belongs to the humblest folk in his native +land. His sympathy is beautiful, because it is devoid of any pretence or +forced pathos. His language is choice, yet simply constructed. There is +real literary flavour about this work, which has just been published by +Fisher Unwin. When will the Punjab give us a young man who can feel and +think and write like this?--_Civil and Military Gazette_ (Lahore). + +Mr. T. Ramakrishna, a graduate of the Madras University, may be +congratulated on the success which seems likely to attend the +publication of his well-written little book on "Indian Village Life." +Judging by the comments that have appeared in the English papers, it is +just the kind of book the public at home wants, not too statistical to +be readable, and not too ambitious in design to be trustworthy, but just +a simple, picturesque account of the particular part of India which the +author really knows.--_London Correspondent of the Englishman_ +(Calcutta). + +The great virtue of Mr. Ramakrishna's writing is the absence of pretence +and fustian. Space is not wasted on ambitious and worthless descriptions +of scenery, or on vague disquisitions of a sentimental character. +Everywhere he is simple, straightforward, and effective.... Writing in +excellent English, and in unexceptionable style, he tells plainly and +simply what he has to say, and is the more successful because he is less +ambitious.... It is to be hoped that Mr. Ramakrishna's interesting +sketches of Southern Indian village life will obtain a wide circulation +in England. He is to be congratulated on having produced a work of no +little merit and originality.--_Madras Mail_. + +To doubters of the good results of Western education in this Presidency, +better proof could hardly be given than is provided. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Ind, by T. 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