one hundred thousand ounces of gold, for its want of taste; and next,
let this vain one be committed to perpetual seclusion in the eastern
tower of the imperial palace. Let the other maidens be sent to their
parents, for as yet there is not found a fit bride for the brother of
the sun and moon."

The imperial mandates were obeyed; and thus was the first part of the
prophecy fulfilled, that "the pearl beyond price would be _found_ and
_lost_."

Ti-tum, till-lilly, ti-tum, tilly-lilly, ti-tum, ti.

Yes, she was lost, for the resplendent Chaoukeun was shut up to waste
away her peerless beauty in sorrow and in solitude. One small
terrace-walk was the only spot permitted her on which to enjoy the
breezes of heaven. Night was looking down in loveliness, with her
countless eyes, upon the injustice and cruelty of men, when the
magnificent Youantee, who had little imagined that the brother of the
sun and moon would be doomed to swallow the bitter pillau of
disappointment, as had been latterly his custom, quitted the palace to
walk in the gardens and commune with his own thoughts, unattended. And
it pleased destiny, that the pearl beyond price, the neglected Chaoukeun
also was induced, by the beauty and stillness of the night, to press the
shell sand which covered the terrace-walk, with her diminutive feet, so
diminutive, that she almost tottered in her gait. The tear trembled in
her eye as she thought of her own happy home, and bitterly did she
bewail that beauty, which, instead of raising her to a throne, had by
malice and avarice condemned her to perpetual solitude. She looked
upwards at the starry heaven, but felt no communion with its loveliness.
She surveyed the garden of sweets from the terrace, but all appeared to
be desolate. Of late, her only companions had been her tears and her
lute, whose notes were as plaintive as her own.

"O my mother!" exclaimed she; "beloved, but too ambitious mother! but
for one little hour to lay this head upon your bosom! Fatal hath been
the dream you rejoiced in at my nativity, in which the moon shone out so
brilliantly, and then descended into the earth at your feet. I have
shone but a little, little time, and now am I buried, as it were, in the
earth, at my joyous age. Immured in this solitary tower, my hopes
destroyed--my portrait cannot have been seen--and now I am lost for
ever. Thou lute, sole companion of my woes, let us join our voices of
complaint. Let us fancy that the flowers