me
Of circling spheres in chant sublime
Will lead the music of the seas,
And call the echoes of the breeze
To one triumphal lay
Whose harmony, whose heavenly harmony
Sounding for aye
In loud and solemn benedicite,
Voices the glory of the Central Day,
And through th' illimitable realms of air
Is borne afar
In wafted echoes that the strain prolong
Through boundless space, and countless worlds among,
Meas'ring the pulsing of each lonely star,
And sounding ceaselessly from sphere to sphere
That note of immortality
That whispers in the sorrow of the sea,
And in the sunrise, and the noonday's rest,
And triumphs in the wild wind's meek surcease,
And in the sad soul's yearning unexpressed,
And unexpressive for perpetual peace.

But the loveliest of Lehna Singh's possessions was Moti, his daughter
and only child, the fame of whose beauty had even reached Atma in his
mountain home. Of her he had dreamt through boyhood's years, and a
happy consciousness of her proximity foreshadowed the enchanted hour
when he was to behold her and own that his fondest fancies were to her
loveliness as darkness to noonday. Her name he had heard whispered in
the gay throng of her father's guests, on the memorable first evening of
his arrival there; but, strange to tell, next day, when these first
hours in a palace seemed to his excited imagination a dream in which
mingled in wildest confusion the glitter of diamonds, the perfume of a
thousand flowers, the revel of dazzling colors, the bewildering music of
unknown instruments, and the intoxication of wonder and bliss, there
rang through all only one articulate voice, sounding as if from some
leafy ambush amid vague laughter and murmurs of speech, saying:

"But I tell you that Rajah Lal Singh means to pluck the rose of Lehna
Singh's garden!"

CHAPTER IV.

Atma loved to wander apart. One day he penetrated to a secluded court,
whose beauty and silence charmed him more than anything he had hitherto
seen. It was Moti's garden.

"High in air the fountain flung
Its living gems, on sunbeams strung
They wreathed and shook the mists among;
A thousand roses audience held,
For floral state the place was meet,
With blissful light and joy replete,
And depths of sweetness unrevealed.

Glittered and sparkled the revelling spr