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