Again, and all the long forgotten scenes
In quick succession flowed before them both;
And never was a happier marriage seen
In all that happy vale of Krishnapore.




_THE STORY OF PRINCE DÉSING_.


It was the month of May, and glorious rose
The sun on Jinji, bathing in his light
Her lofty hills, her ancient walls and towers,
Her battlements, and all the glittering scene
That bade the stranger tell--"here lives a prince;"
And greeting late, as if too long he slept
Upon his ocean bed, the eager crowd
That in their best attire at early dawn
Fast gathered from their hamlets far and wide,
And like a hive swarmed on the castled hills.

Perhaps some village poet waited there,
Who day and night toiled hard in metres rare
To sing the deeds and virtues of his prince
And trace them on the leaves of that lone palm
Which stood close by his humble cottage home.
Perhaps with faces that bespoke deep grief
A troop of farmers there had come to tell
To their sport-loving prince the havoc wrought