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