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left your father's house to become the queen of a great monarch—to share the splendours of his throne — and to reign in his heart. That throne has vanished—I am now a beggar; and although the heart you were to possess still remains, I am not selfish enough to require you to prefer so poor a possession, to the many thrones which your beauty may command. Return to the palace of your ancestors. You have my blessing, my lovemy tears!” And the proud man, who could have beheld all the kingdoms of the world depart from him with more composure, turned away his face, and concealed it in his mantle, to hide the bitterness of his anguish. Ramayuna had already taken her determination. With all of woman's tenderness, the devotedness, and religion, as it were, of love, she approached Hurchund, and discarding those notions of form, which are adapted only to ordinary occasions, but vanish into thin air before the heat of passion and the sacredness of grief, she threw her arms about his neck, and replied:-“ It is Hurchund, and not the Rajah of Ajmere, that I love. My passion is the offspring of thy passion: and shall I take the torch thus kindled, and place it in the hands of another? I love thee for thyself alone. I loved thee, Hurchund, when thou wert no more in my eyes than a poor pilgrim, without house or home. And now that heaven has reduced thee to the condition in which thou didst at first voluntarily appear to me, shall I, like a worldling and a traitor, add to thy sorrows, and utterly crush the reed which has already been bruised by the tempest? Listen to me, my love, my soul! I will never forsake thee, whatever the world may do. Let us hide ourselves all day in this tent, and when darkness once more descends upon the earth, we will steal forth together, and seek, in some remote spot in the desert, the happiness which pure love can bestow, even on the most destitute.”

Hurchund, who, even in his most unhappy moments, had never wholly lost his faith in the purity and self-devotion of the female soul, felt, while she spoke, the first sensations of unmixed pleasure he had ever experienced. His heart, however, was for a time too full for words. He pressed her hand to his lips. He gazed in rapture on her countenance, which seemed to beam with a divine splendour. A thousand emotions swept like a storm across his soul. His breast heaved, his lips quivered, and his head at length sunk upon her bosom, which was drenched by his tears. After a long and painful struggle, he recovered a portion of his composure, and said, “ Ramayuna, thou hast succeeded. I have awakened as from a dream. Thy love is more than an equivalent for all that I have lost. I will live: but I will not hide myself in the desert. Thousands of Rajpoots, as brave as ever drew sword, still remain, and cities, and towns, and villages. I will face my subjects, who have been drained to poverty by my folly ; and I will expiate my crime, by reigning solely for them and for thee.'

The Chronicle goes on to relate, that Hurchund collected together the remnant of his people,- erected a plain, substantial city, in a situation adapted for commerce,—and, by his justice and his wisdom, repaired the injuries he had committed; and after a long and glorious reign, left the kingdom still more wealthy than he found it. Nevertheless, he was always observed at a certain season of the year, to retire for a few weeks to the desert, to contemplate, it was thought, the phantom of his original city, which at such times hovered at sun-rise over the lake. At length, after rearing a numerous family of sons and daughters, Hurchund and his queen disappeared during one of these visits, and were never afterwards heard of : though many travellers have imagined they beheld them standing at dawn upon the green knoll where they had stood when the city was destroyed; and to this day the Rajpoots look for their appearance with as much confidence as the Portuguese expect the re-advent of King Sebastian, or the Persians that of the Twelfth Imam.

Colonel Tod, who more than once beheld the singular phenomenon called “ The Palace of the Rajah Hurchund,” denominates it the See Kote, and compares it to the Sehrab of the Arabian and African deserts. He appears, however, not to have met with the above history in his learned and laborious researches into the Annals of Rajast'han.

THE THREE GUESTS.

BY MARY HOWITT.

“Oh where are you, ye three young men !

Where, where on land or sea ! My soul doth daily yearn for you,

Oh hasten back to me!

“Oh hasten back, my best beloved,

Gentle, and wise, and brave !
Or, be ye numbered with the dead,

Come back, even from the grave !

“ Ay, from the grave, if ye are there,

For once, my lost, come back! For once—so I may look on you,

May know your mortal track !”

With that there blew a loud, loud wind,

With that there blew a low; And the barred door on its hinges turned,

Turned silently and slow.

And in there came the three young men,

From lands that lay not near; And all as still their footsteps fell,

As dews that none can hear.

The first was pale, and cold, and thin,

As the living cannot be ;
His robe was of the chill grey mist

That hangeth on the sea.

The second bore upon his brow

An awful sign and grim;
His mother shrieked and crossed herself, -

Dared not look on him.

The third was as the morning, fair,

Breathing forth odour fresh and sweet ; A starry crown was on his head,

A rainbow at his feet.

“Where have ye been, ye three young men ?

Outspoke their mother, in fear; “Sit down-sit down on your own hearth-stone,

'T is long since ye were here!

“Sit down, sit down, ye three young men,

Take rest, and break my bread :
You have travelled far this weary night:-
Woe's me! they ’re of the dead!”

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