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.”