rumor spreads the joyful news,
And ere the dawn had danced from mountain-top
O'er hill and vale and plain to the sweet notes
Of nature's rich and varied orchestra,
And dried the pearly tears that night had wept,
The prince led forth his train to meet his bride,
Wondering that Kantaka, always so free,
So eager and so fleet, should seem to lag.
And in that fragrant garden's cooling shade,
Where they had parted, now again they meet,
And there we leave them reverently alone,
For art can never paint nor words describe
The peace and rest and rapture of that scene.

Meanwhile the city rings with busy stir.
The streets are swept and sprinkled with perfumes,
And when the evening shades had veiled the earth,
And heaven's blue vault was set with myriad stars,
The promised signal from the watchtower sounds,
And myriad lamps shine from each house and tree,
And merry children strew their way with flowers,
And all come forth to greet Siddartha's bride,
And welcome her, their second Maya, home.
And at the palace gate the good old king
Receives her with such loving tenderness,
As fondest mother, sick with hope deferred,
Waiting and watching for an absent child,
At length receives him in her open arms.

[1]Sinhahamu was an ancestor, said to be the grandfather, of our
prince, whose bow, like that of Ulysses, no one else could bend. See
notes 24 and 35 to Book Second of Arnold's "Light of Asia."

[2]Any one who has read that remarkable work, "Ben Bur," and every one
who has not should, will recognize my obligations to General Wallace.

[3]One may be satisfied with the antiquity of the dance, practically as
we have it, from lines 187-8, Book VI. of the Odyssey:

"Joyful they see applauding princes gaze
When stately in the dance they swim the harmonious maze."

[4]I am aware I place Kapilavasta nearer the Vale of Cashmere than
most, but as two such writers as Beal and Rhys Davids differ 30
yojanas, or 180 miles in its location, and as no remains have yet been
identified at all corresponding to the grandeur of the ancient city as
described by all Buddhist writers, I felt free to indulge my fancy.
Perhaps these ruins may yet be found by some chance traveler in some
unexplored jungle.

BOOK III.

And now his cup with every blessing filled
Full to the brim, to overflowing full,
What more has life to give or heart to wish?
Stately in form, with every prin