Atmâ A Romance

O that Decay were always beautiful! How soft the exit of the dying day, The dying season too, its disarray Is gold and scarlet, hues of gay misrule, So it in festive cheer may p...

A century and a half after, Govind Singh had kindled the hearts of his countrymen with his prophetic visions of a military church regnant on the hills of Kashmir, there took pla...

After his father's death Atmâ betook himself to Lahore, where dwelt Lehna Singh, only brother of the departed Sikh. A man of a totally different cast of mind, he had early adopt...

Atmâ loved to wander apart. One day he penetrated to a secluded court, whose beauty and silence charmed him more than anything he had hitherto seen. It was Moti's garden.

"Your lofty faith and devotion, my son, move me deeply. The heroic spirit of my brother Raee seems once more to incite me to deeds of daring which in these degenerate days would...

A subdued light stole through the latticed windows of the house of Junda Kowr, revealing a court whose hush and shadow contrasted with the busy life that Atmâ had left behind hi...

Atmâ directed his steps on the morning following his interview with Junda Kowr northward towards the confines of Kashmir. It was a lovely morning. A humid mist veiled the distan...

One night Atmâ dreamed a dream which greatly disturbed his waking thoughts. He lay in the shadow of an overhanging rock, and in deep sleep fancied that he descried therein a doo...

As Atmâ drew near to the confines of Kashmir he trod a secluded vale, and followed the windings of a broad stream whose banks were thickly wooded. As he pursued his way through...

On the morrow the Rajah of Kashmir sat in the terraced garden and talked of life. Those who sat with him had lately braved death on battlefield, but death had forborne to touch...

Rajah Lal Singh arrived at Jummoo a few weeks later in much pomp and state. No hidden or hazardous mission was his. His gorgeous train of armed attendants mounted on richly capa...

There was fear of Evil Influence, pestilence and death in the country, and as the time of new moon drew near, propitiatory sacrifices were prepared. A number of the courtiers of...

The shrine of the Well of Purity was on a dainty islet which lay in the centre of a small lake. The grotto was almost concealed from view, but moving forms of worshippers were v...

The roses in the gardens of Lehna Singh hung their heads, the sunbeams danced no longer, and the pleasant fountains fell with monotonous plash on sullen pools, where goldfish hi...

The Rajah of Kashmir and his court went a-hunting on the day of Lal Singh's return to their good company. They swept down the valley, a gorgeous train of nobles and host of atte...

"And," said the Rajah, who was a lover of verse, "how true it is that poetry lends an illusive charm to conceptions ordinary in themselves, like a lovely screen which bestows a...

How fair is Night, how hushed the scene, Earth's teeming hosts are here no longer seen, Only a chosen few, A happy few, The blooming cereus and the blessed dew Ordained have bee...

Far retired in the woody recesses to the south of Jummoo, thither come by a winding labyrinth of ways were the fugitives. Bertram, languid and pale, lay on a couch of moss and l...

The quiet days were passing slowly. Bertram's wound did not heal, and his strength grew less. The unseen powers that throng the air and watch our ways arranged about him the pha...

Death, whether it be day or night, overtook Bertram in the mountain fastness, and Atmâ knew once more that the human soul is lonely, which he had been fain to doubt or deny in t...