Tales of Ind, and Other Poems — Key Ideas to Explore

nd said with folded hands and trembling lips-- "O royal master, at the gate there waits A man of noble mien from the far north Requesting audience on affairs of state." "Conduct him to our presence," said the prince. The stranger came,--upon the floor he knelt And said--"Thou mighty prince of these fair lands, I come from Arcot, and the Nabob sent His humble servant to demand of thee Thy dues which these five years thou hast not paid. Know, then, if these are not now duly paid, From thee he will these broad dominions wrest, And give them those who will his rule obey." The angry prince made answer--"Go and tell Your master that his vain threats move us not, Say we will gladly meet him on the field." So saying, from his royal seat he rose, And to his palace instantly withdrew.

As when a stone dropped in the middle of A placid pool its slumb'ring waters wakes, And the calm surface is all ruffled seen, Or at the merest touch of ruthless man Bent on the honeyed treasures of the hive Those myriad ones leave murm'ring to the foe Their hoarded wealth to which they fondly clung, So scattered to their distant native homes The bustling crowd that met on Jinji's hills, When he of Arcot came to mar their joys.

And days and months rolled on until one day To Désing came his loyal spy and said-- "My noble ruler, on the other side Of the fair stream that runs through yonder plain, There waits our foe of Arcot with his men: Prepare to go and meet him on the field." 'Twas even time--the warrior prince soon wrote To Mamood Khan, the master of his troops, To hasten to his country's duty first. What though it was that soldier's bridal hour, When he received his royal master's call! "My country's welfare first, then my fair spouse," He said, and leapt upon his faithful steed And stood, ere morn had streaked the eastern sky, Before his lord his bidding to obey.

The prince rose early on that fated day And to the temple of his God repaired, There to invoke His blessing on the field. Then to the palace hastened he to meet, Ere he went forth to fight, his youthful wife, Who day by day in beauty grew amidst A score of maidens, like the waxing moon; And, with a screen of silk between, they met. As one lured by the fragrance of the rose Stoops down gently to lift the truant stalk That to the other side of the thick hedge Shoots out alone from its own parent stem, So fondly down stooped Jinji's noble prince To kiss the jewelled arm of his fair spouse Which through the screen she offered to her lord. Prince Désing was the first who silence broke. "My dear wife! on the day when we were wed These eyes of mine had not e'en this arm seen, Although on the same bridal seat we sat. The screen which by the custom of our race Was drawn by cruel hands hid thee from view. So wondrous fair this arm looks that methinks Rare beauties must be seated on thy face. My foe hath come; fear not; I go to fight, And come with honours loaded from the field, A victor to rejoice with thee to-night At the propitious hour which, by the aid Of all his starry lore, our Brahmin sage Hath for our nuptials named,--to gaze and scan In silent joy what charms, what beauties rare The hand divine has showered upon thy face, And to recount to thee, when with thine own My arm in friendship plays, what blood it shed, What havoc in the Moslem camp it wrought. So let me now depart." To which the Queen: "I was the only daughter of my sire, And cradled in his sinewy arms I grew; And when upon his warrior breast I laid My head to sleep, my mother by his side Lulled me with songs of how in days gone by The martial women of our noble race Went with their husbands by their side to fight; And one so nursed fears not the Moslem foe. But now, alas! some evil it forebodes That thou shouldst on this day go forth to fight."

And as she spoke tears trickled down his eyes, And one, a pearly drop, stole to her palm. She felt it: instantly her hand withdrew, And then began to speak in words like these: "It is not meet that Jinji's valiant prince Should like a child at this last hour shed tears And fear to meet his foe; fear not, my lord, To meet him like a soldier on the field. If thou a victor comest from the fight, We shall in joy spend our first nuptial night, But if thou comest routed from the field, I never more will see thy timid face Or think that thou art born of Kshatriya race. And if thou fallest bravely fighting, then Remember, Prince, thou hast in me a wife Who will not let thee pass from earth alone. Go forth and like a warrior meet the foe. But fear not; Runga will be on our side, So ere thou goest kiss this hand of mine Which from thine eyes that precious tear has sought." So saying, this brave Rajput girl once more To Désing offered through the screen her hand. He lifted it and reverently kissed, Then sallied forth resolved to win or die.

Fierce raged the battle, but the hapless prince Was weak to meet his foeman's myriad host; And Mamood Khan fell bravely lighting there, And with him many of his valiant men. The faithful steed that through all perils bore The prince was slain, and soon he fought on foot. But ere the foe could capture him alive, He hurled his heavy dagger, bared his breast, And instantly a lifeless corpse he fell. A few brave soldiers bore him from the field. They hastened to the castle and before The widowed Queen their precious burden laid. She, nothing daunted, orders gave at once That her attendants should prepare the pyre; And then to her assembled men thus spake: "My faithful men and my brave soldiers! you Who with my lord fought nobly on the field, I see you all weep at our hapless fate. 'Tis God has willed we thus should end our lives. But a worse fate shall surely soon befall Our cruel foe--howe'er exulting now. Weep not--there soon shall dawn another day When from the farthest end of this vast globe A race for valour and for virtue famed Shall wrest his kingdom from his ruthless hands, And everywhere your sons and your sons' sons Shall lasting peace and happiness enjoy. Be witness to the curse pronounced by me, A widowed maiden at the hour of death, Thou setting Sun and thou, O rising Moon!"

Then as a bride in all her glory decked Approaches with a gladdened heart t' embrace Th' expectant bridegroom on the nuptial bed, E'en so ascended this fair Queen the pyre, And there embracing lay by her dear lord. The fire was lighted and the pyre was closed, And speedily to ashes were reduced The lifeless husband and the living wife. The Moslem came--heard of the death she died Amid the flames, repented of his deed, And, it is said, he built a lordly town[1] In honour of the Queen, who counted it, A sin her noble husband to survive, And in a moment flung her life away.

[Footnote 1: Ranipett.]

_THE STORY OF RUDRA_.

A deep calm sea; on the blue waters toiled, From morn till eve, the simple fishermen; And, on the beach, there stood a group of huts Before whose gates old men sat mending nets And eyed with secret joy the little boys That gaily gambolled on the sandy beach Regardless of their parents' daily toils. And all the busy women left their homes And their young ones with baskets on their heads Filled with the finny treasures of the deep.

A thousand yards to landward rose a town With its broad streets, high roofs, and busy marts. An ancient temple in the centre stood, Where to his servant Nandi once appeared Great Siva, it is said, in human frame. E'en learned saints sang of the holy shrine; And to this sacred spot from far-off lands For adoration countless pilgrims came And men to buy all rarest things that poured Into her busy marts from foreign parts.

Here in this ancient port of Nundipore In royal splendour lived a merchant youth, Who scarce had reached his one-and-twentieth year. His aged father had but lately died And left him the sole heir of all his wealth. And Rudra--for that was the brave youth's name-- Had heard from infant days full many tales Of how his grandsire and his sire had braved The perils of the deep in search of gold, And in his bosom fondly nurtured hopes To travel likewise on the dang'rous sea. And oft would he to Rati, his fair wife, Exulting tell how wisely he would trade In foreign shores and with rare gems return; How even princes, by those gems allured, To court his friendship come from distant lands, And he dictate his own high terms to them, And thus add glory to his glorious house. And often would she vainly plead in turn Her desolate position and her youth. And her dear lord implore upon her knees For ever to dismiss his cherished thoughts And turn to her and to their lordly wealth Which God had given them, to live in peace. Thus wrangled for some months the timid wife And he whom woman's charms could not subdue Until at last arrived th' appointed day. The little ship was waiting in the port, And Rudra to his youthful wife repaired His purpose to disclose; and as at times Clouds hover over us and darken all The sky for days, and still no rain descends-- But suddenly when least expected comes-- So she to whom her husband's parting lay In words saw it burst in reality.

He said, "Dear Rati! well thou knowest how I fondly wish to trade in distant realms. The time has come for me to part from thee. This morn a little ship was sighted here, And she is riding yonder on the sea. And ere the setting sun sinks down to rest Into the western waves the little bark Now destined to take me will leave the port; And I have therefore one, but one short hour. 'Tis willed by Him above that I should soon Bid farewell to the place where I was born, Where all my thoughts for ever centred lie,-- Soon part from all that to my heart is dear, But soon come richer, greater to my home, To spend my days in joy and happiness. Dear wife! allow me therefore to depart."

To which the wife--"Dear husband, sad it is To me to think that thou shouldst part from me; But sadder still the thought that thou shouldst go On seas to roam in lands unknown and strange, And canst not tell when to this spot return. There is our lordly mansion here; there is Our wealth, and here I am thy youthful wife. Why go away and risk thy precious life While we enjoy our days like king and queen? Why leave me here to pine away in grief And loneliness? Without my lord it is Half death to me, and I would rather die Than see him part; hence banish from thy mind All thoughts of going and stay here with me."

"My wife!" he said, "why cherish idle fears? The holy Brahmin whom thou knowest well, So deeply versed in all the starry lore, Tells me that I am fated to return. It is an evil omen that thou shouldst, Lamenting, hinder me at this last hour And tell me not to go. Send me away With thy good wishes, I will soon return. By Him above that rules man's destinies, By mother earth, by yonder setting sun, The moon that shines up in the starry heav'ns, By all that to his heart is sacred deemed, And lastly by his sire whose picture hangs On the wall there, thy husband Rudra swears That after he returns he'll stay with thee, And nevermore e'en think of leaving thee, And let him therefore go in peace of mind."

"If it is true," replied the crying maid, "That Sita followed Rama to the woods, And that she of the Pandus also shared With them their toils--if ever woman's charms Had power to move the adamantine heart Of man, then let thy Rati go with thee To share with thee thy joys and woes as well. If thou shouldst go alone, remember then, Dear lord, the sin rests solely on thy head That a young maiden has been left alone To mourn for ever for her husband on The seas--and all for gold and for a name."

"A _name_ thou sayest--never, never would Thy Rudra die unhonoured and unknown And bear the evil name and the reproach For ever with his sons and his sons' sons, That of his old illustrious family He was the only one that feared to go Upon the sea. The sun is going down, And cruel darkness is invading fast On us; and soon the ship will leave the port. Within a year thou shalt see me again. But if 'tis ruled by God that I should not Return, to one thing listen ere I go. To soothe thy spirits in a few short months An infant will be lying on thy lap, And if a daughter she should be, let her Be married to one worthy of our race. But if a son is born tend him with care; When he grows old, let it be said of him That he is his lost father's worthy son." And when the few last awful words were spoke The frighted wife that stood supported by Her lord at once grew pale and motionless. As one that watched with anxious care the growth Of a young tendril slowly fixes it Upon a new and stronger prop, e'en so Brave Rudra extricated himself from Her grasp and gently placed her on the couch; Then gazed on her for a few moments with His hands upon her throbbing temples, kissed Her brow, and straightway vanished from the room.

And now the little ship in which he sailed Safe bore the crew along the wat'ry waste, And after twenty days' fast sailing she Encountered on the way a storm, was wrecked, And all save Rudra perished in the waves. The shipwrecked merchant lost all that he had, And wandered through a distant country with No friends, no money but his hands to earn For him his daily bread: the lonely youth Thus dragged for years his miserable life With nothing to make it worth living save The hope, the only hope, to see his wife; Till at the end of twenty years a ship Was sighted that was bound for Nundipore. In it he sailed and safely landed in His native port. It was the midday noon; He saw the selfsame fishing village that Stood years ago upon the sandy beach, And with a joyful heart he hastened to His house which all deserted seemed; inside With falt'ring steps he went, and on the walls Of the big hall were hanging pictures of His sire, of Krishna playing on the flute, Of Rama, Siva, and the other gods Whom in his childhood days his house adored, And seemed as they were drawn but yesterday; A thousand other old familiar scenes In quick succession passed before his eyes, Then quickly passed into a room, where lo! There slept a youth and she for whom for years Life's toils he patient bore. As one born blind Had after years of pray'r the gift of sight Vouchsafed to him by God, his Maker, to Behold the beauties of the universe, His wife, his children, and those dear to him, But straightway feels the precious gift withdrawn; Or as a lonely bird that unawares Has wandered far into the deep blue sea Finds nothing but a wat'ry waste all round, And knows not where to rest its wearied limbs, But at a distance kens at last a ship To which with doubled speed it flies and flies, And there discerns a seaman with his bow Preventing it from sitting on the mast-- So Rudra felt. "Is this my wife?" he thought. "Yes, by the mole upon her cheek she is; And beauty, spite of age, still lingers on Her face, and this fair youth, attracted by Her charms, came here. Why hast Thou brought me home, O God! why was I not drowned in the sea? Why did I leave that distant country where These twenty years I toiled for bread and lived? And why was I not spared this ghastly sight? No, Rati! never would thy husband bear To see thee lying with another man. First he will kill you both, then die himself." So saying, from a sheath a blade he drew, When lo! there fell the piece of a palm leaf Whereon were writ--_think well before you do_. "This is," he said, "my father's dying gift; By the advice here giv'n I will abide," Then woke his wife, and in firm tones thus asked, "Who is this youth that has defiled my bed? Speak ere I strike you both." The wond'ring wife The dagger and the stranger saw and cried-- "Kill me alone, but spare my only son." "Thy only son!" he said; "now wake him up, And let us all adore our Maker first, Who saved us from my frenzy, which in one Short moment would have shattered all our bliss."

_THE STORY OF THE ROYAL HUNTRESS_.

It was a land of plenty and of wealth; There God's indulgent hand made for a race Supremely blest a paradise on earth. A land of virtue, truth, and charity, Where nature's choicest treasures man enjoyed With little toil, where youth respected age, Where each his neighbour's wife his sister deemed, Where side by side the tiger and the lamb The water drank, and sported oft in mirth. A land where each man deemed him highly blest When he relieved the miseries of the poor, When to his roof the wearied traveller came To share his proffered bounty with good cheer. Such was the far-famed land of Panchala.

Here reigned a king who walked in virtue's path, Who ruled his country only for his God. His people's good he deemed his only care, Their sorrows were his sorrows, and their joys He counted as his own; such was the king Whose daily prayers went up to Him on high For wisdom and for strength to rule his men Aright, and guard the land from foreign foes. Such was the far-famed king of Panchala.

An only son he had--a noble prince, The terror of his foes, the poor man's friend. He mastered all the arts of peace and war, And was a worthy father's worthy son. What gifts and graces men as beauties deem These Nature freely lavished on the youth, And people loved in wonder to behold The face that kindled pleasure in their minds. The courage of a warrior in the field, A woman's tender pity to the weak-- All these were centred in the royal youth. His arrows killed full many a beast that wrought Dread havoc on the cattle of the poor. Such was the famous prince of Panchala.

The people, they were all true men and good, Their ruler they adored, for by their God He was ordained to rule their native land. They freely to their king made known their wants, And he as freely satisfied their needs, And e'en the meanest of the land deemed it The basest act to sin against his king. Such were the people of the ancient land Of Panchala, who stood one day with tears Before their king to pour their plaintive tales Of ruin wrought upon their cattle by The tiger of the forest, that all day Was safe in his impenetrable lair, But every night his dreaded figure showed And feasted on the flesh of toiling beasts.