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