Oblivion could not, could not cloud the image on his soul impressed,
Unless dark treachery from the first had been the monarch of his breast
And if perhaps some weary hours I thought that Vindaraja's mind
Might in some happier cavalier the solace of her slavery find,
I checked the thought; I drove away the vision that with death was rife,
For e'er my trust in thee I lost, in battle I'd forego my life!
Yet even the doubt that thou hast breathed gives me no franchise to forget,
And were I willing that thy face should cease to fill my vision, yet
'Tis separation's self that binds us closer though the centuries roll,
And forges that eternal chain that binds together soul and soul!