The princess sent to Jehaundar the following reply.

THE REPLY.
 
VERSE.
“What unexpected happiness! that the strokes of thy pen should in kindness pourtray the claims of my affection!
“With the point of my reed I express my gratitude. May the mansion of time never depart from under the controul of thy pen!
“I will not say that thou hast from mistake remembered me desponding, for it cannot be conceived that a mistake should flow from thy pen.

“The sublime firmaun, written with the jewel-threading pen of the sovereign of the universe, from every letter of which the odour of compassion refreshed the senses of his dependants; having, like the phœnix, descended from the fir­mament of honour, cast the welcome shade of condescension and kindness over the head of this retired in the solitude of exile. Such a wretched being as myself was in no way worthy of such unexpected favour; but as it is the bountiful nature of spring to nourish alike the garden and the wilderness with the showers of his liberality, and to favour equally the rose and thorn, it is not to be wondered at, that your majesty, exalted as the Pleiades, should, like the sun, beam the rays of generosity on an insignificant atom, whose existence or annihilation can be of no importance in the scale of being. What wonder is it that a king should relieve the beggar? In return for such conde­scending favour, what can I offer but my prayers?

VERSE.
“When the snblime firmaun descends from the sky of magnificence and glory, what reply can mortals make but grateful prayers?

“The contents, expressing com­plaints of absence and regret at separation, which were written purely from gracious compassion to me forlorn wanderer in the desart of wretchedness, were reviving as the re-animating breath of Jesus, and caused exultation to your humblest slave.

“Monarch, asylum of the world, my retirement to the cell of solitude was not from insolence or sullenness; but seeing your majesty enamoured of another, I was unwilling to damp your pleasure by my melancholy presence, or interrupt your joys, which would have been con­trary to my duty and submission.”

When Jehaundar received the above, he hastened to console the afflicted prin­cess. Like the breeze of dawn arriving at the rose-bush of the garden of beauty, he unfolded the shrunken bud of her heart, and delighted his eyes with view­ing her charms, yet brilliant, though clouded with sorrow. On beholding her distressed condition, the strongest impression was made on the mind of the sultaun, who shed pearly tears from the caskets of his eyes. At the time when he extended the shade of prosperity over the cypress of the margin of beauty, he beheld her, like the morning, arrayed in white, and divested of every ornament, fervently employed in her devotions.

On seeing the sultaun, as she possessed true wisdom and understanding, Bherawir Banou was overcome by a sense of his condescension, and prostrated herself at his feet. Like the turtle-dove, uttering strains of gratitude and love, she sub­mitted herself to the bonds of concilia­tion, and followed the monarch, like his shadow, in the path of agreement; which they never deviated from during the remainder of their lives.