left helpless and alone, here is
Our ever ready jav'lin to kill thee.
Thy body forthwith shall be nobly borne
Unto the pyre by thine own faithful men,
And I will gladly leap upon the flames.
But if thou comest routed and alive,
Then Chandra nevermore shall see thy face."
At early morn, upon th' appointed day,
The king his faithful servants summoned, and
Before them all his only brother named
To rule the kingdom and confided all
His subjects to his care; then, at the head
Of his brave troops, out of the city marched,
Amidst the royal bards recounting in
Sweet tones the glories of his kingdom's past,
His holy priests invoking Krishna's help
And chanting sacred hymns, and in the midst
Of maidens of the martial Kshatrya race,
Proceeding to the very city gates,
And singing to their fathers, brothers, and
Their husbands in shrill notes heard far and wide,
That Swarga's gates are ever ready to
Receive the faithful if they bravely fall,
The flames are ready to take their proud wives,
But burning hell gapes wide for to devour
The cowards that run routed and alive;
Their maidens' sweet embrace awaits them not.
At last, upon the plains of Talicot,
The armies met, fierce raged the battle, and
Old Ramaraj fought nobly in the field;
And Timma too wrought dreadful havoc on
The Moslems and their ranks oft shattered, but
Alas! the ever treach'rous Bukka pounced
Sudden on his own ranks; the king was slain;
His ghastly head upon a pole was shown,
And helpless and forlorn the Hindus stood;
But, ere perfidious Bukka could run with
The Moslem foes, to capture him alive,
A faithful soldier Timma called, gave him
His Chandra's jav'lin, in his steady grip
To hold, then boldly ran his body through
And instantly fell lifeless to the ground.
A faithful few the body bore, and laid
Before the orphaned and the widowed maid
Their precious charge, and soon the pyre was raised.
Then, near the flames that brightened her bright face,
Her uncle and her people shedding tears,
Her noble husband lying cold and still,
The story of her father's cruel death
Still ringing in her ears, she took farewell.
"Dear uncle and my faithful men! grieve not:
I see a cloud, now looming yonder there,
No bigger than the hand of man, that shall
Expand and rain and water to purge all
The land of th' innocent blood shed on it,
For mother India's cup of w