Kanauj never forgave this insult, and, when Mahmud invaded the kingdom of Delhi, sternly refused to aid his son-in-law in expelling a foe, who soon after crushed him also. I have slightly deviated from the above story in representing my heroine as sent to confinement before the celebration of the "Feast of Victory."
CANTO FIRST.
The star of Eve is in the sky,
But pale it shines and tremblingly,
As if the solitude around,
So vast, so wild, without a bound,
Hath in its softly throbbing breast
Awak'd some maiden fear—unrest:
****
'Tis eve—the dew's on leaf and flower,
The soft breeze in the moon-lit bower,
And fire-flies with pale gleaming gems
Upon their fairy diadems,
Like winged stars now walk the deep
Of space soft-hushed in dewy sleep,
And people every leaf and tree
With beauty and with radiancy.
There's light upon the heaving stream,
And music sweet as heard in dream,
And many a star upon its breast
Is calmly pillow'd unto rest,
While there, as on a silver throne,
All melancholy, veil'd, alone,
Beneath the pale Moon's colder ray,
The Bride of him—the Lord of Day,
In silence droops, as in lone bower
The love-lorn maid at twilight hour.
