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.