Chandra. A Tale Of The Field Of Tellik'ta, A.D. 1565.

At length the four great Mahometan governments, A'dil Sh'h, N'z'm Sh'h, Bar'd, and K'tb Sh'h, formed a league against R'm R'ja, then ruling at Bij'yanagar. A great battle took place on the Kishna, near T'lic't, 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 r'ja, being taken prisoner, was put to death in cold blood, and his head was kept till lately at Bijap'r as a trophy.

This battle destroyed the monarchy of Bij'yanagar, 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 zem'nd'rs or poligars.

The brother of the late r'ja 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 ag'd lion, when sore vexed,

Like thunder roaring, musters all his strength

And stands defiant to face the foe, so stood

The ag'd 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 undisturb'd 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 preordain'd 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 preordain'd 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 preordain'd 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 arm'd 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 ag'd 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 ag'd 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 ag'd 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 ag'd 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 ag'd 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 T'lic't,

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.