, POETICAL WORKS EDWIN AENOLD /I CONTAWnjO THE LIGUTjOfL^SIA THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS PEARLS OF THE FAITH NEW YORK JOHN B. ALDEX, PUBLISHER 1883 2 3<;^P-' [fS VOLUI la DtmruLLT ins THE SOVEREIGN, GRAND MASTER, AND COMPANIONS (Sl)c flloBt (Ptaltcb (f»rbcr of tl)c Star of iJnbiii THE AUTHOR. PREFACE, In the following Poem I have sought, by the medium of an imaginary Buddhist votary, to depict the life and character and indicate the philosophy of that noble hero and reformer. Prince Gautama of India, the founder of Buddhism. A generation ago little or nothing was known in Europe of this great faith of Asia, which had nevertheless existed during twenty-four centuries, and at this day surpasses, in the number of its followers and the area of its prevalence, any other form of creed. Four hundred and seventy mil- lions of our race live and die in the tenets of Gautama ; and the spiritual dominions of this ancient teacher extend, at the present time, from Nepaul and Ceylon over the whole Eastern Peninsula to China, Japan, Thibet, Central Asia, Siberia, and even Swedish Lapland. India itself might fairly be included in this magnificent empire of be- lief, for though the profession of Buddhism has for the most part passed away from the land of its birth, the mark of Gautama's sublime teaching is stamped inefface- ably upon modern Brahmanism, and the most characteris- tic habits and convictions of the Hindus are clearly due to the benign influence of Buddha's precepts. More than a third of mankind, therefore, owe their moral and rclig- ious ideas to this illustrious prince, whose personality, though imperfectly revealed in the existing sources of in- formation, cannot but appear the highest, gentlest, holiest, and most beneficent, with one exception, in the history of Thought. Discordant in frequent particulars, and sorely overlaid by corruptions, inventions, and misconceptions, the Buddhistical books yet agree in the one point of re- cording nothing — no single act or word — which mars the perfect purity and tenderness of this Indian teacher, who united the truest princely qualities with the intellect of a sage and the passionate devotion of a martyr. Even M. Barth^lemy St. Hilaire, totally misjudging, as he does, many points of Buddhism, is well cited by Professor Max Miiller as saying of Prince Siddartha, " Sa vie n'a point de iache. Son constant herolsme egale sa conviction ; et si la theorie qu'il preconise est fausse, les exemples person- nels qu'il donne sont irreprochables. II est le modele acheve de toutes les vertus qu'il preche ; son abnegation, sa charite, son inalterable douceur ne se d^mentent point un seul instant. ... II prepare silencieusement sa doc- trine par six annees de retraite et de meditation ; il la pro- page par la seule puissance de la parole et de la persua- sion pendant plus d'un demi-sidcle, et quand il meurt entre les bras de ses disciples, c'est avec la s^renite d'un sage qui a pratique le bien toute sa vie, et qui est assure d'avoir trouve le vrai." To Gautama has consequently been given this stupendous conquest of humanity ; and — though he discountenanced ritual, and declared himself, even when on the threshold of Nirvana, to be only what all other men might become — the love and gratitude of Asia, disobeying his mandate, have given him fer\'ent worship. Forests of flowers are daily laid upon his stain- less shrines, and countless millions of lips daily repeat the formula, " I take refuge in Buddha ! " The Buddha of this poem — if, as need not be doubted, he really existed — was born on the borders of Nepaul, about 620 B.C., and died about 543 u.c. at Kusinagara in Oudh. In point of age, therefore, most other creeds are youthful compared with this venerable religion, which has in it the eternity of a universal hope, the immortality of a boundless love, an indestructible element of faith in final good, and the proudest assertion ever made of human freedom. The extravagances which disfigure the record and practice of Buddhism are to be referred to that in- evitable degradation which jiriesthoods always inflict upon great ideas committed to their charge. The power and sublimity of Gautama's original doctrines should be es- timated by their influence, not by their interpreters ; nor by that innocent but lazy and ceremonious church which has arisen on the foundations of the Buddhistic Brother- hood or "Sangha." I have put my poem into a Buddhist's mouth, because, to appreciate the spirit of Asiatic thoughts, they should be regarded from the Oriental point of view ; and neither the miracles which consecrate this record, nor the plii- losophy which it embodies, could have been otherwise so naturally reproduced. The doctrine of Tr.insmigration. for instance — startling to modern minds — was established and thoroughly accepted by the Hindus of Buddha's time ; that period when Jerusalem was being taken by Nebu- chadnezzar, when Nineveh was falling to the Mcdes, and Marseilles was founded bv the Phocxans. The expt. tion here offered of so antique a system is of necessity incomplete, and — in obedience to the laws of poetic art — passes rapidly by many matters philosophically most im- portant, as well as over the long ministry of Gautama. But my purpose has been obtained if any just conception be here conveyed of the lofty character of this noble prince, and of the general purport of his doctrines. As to these there has arisen prodigious controversy among the erudite, who will be aware that I have taken the imper- fect Buddhistic citations much as they stand in Spence Hardy's work, and have also modified more than one passage in the received narratives. The views, however, here indicated of " Nirvana," " Dharma," " Karma," and the other chief features of Buddhism, are at least the fruits of considerable study, and also of a firm conviction that a third of mankind would never have been brought to believe in blank abstractions, or in Nothingness as the issue and crown of Being. Finally, in reverence to the illustrious Promulgator of this " Light of Asia," and in homage to the many eminent scholars who have devoted noble labors to his memory, for which both repose and ability are wanting to me, I beg that the shortcomings of my too hurried study may be forgiven. It has been composed in the brief intervals of days without leisure, but is inspired by an abiding desire to aid in the better mutual knowledge of East and West. The time may come, I hope, when this book and my "Indian Song of Songs" will preserve the memory of one who loved India and the Indian peoples. EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.L London, Jidy, 1879. THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Book tlic first. The Scripture of the Saviour of the World, Lord Buddha^ — Prime Sidddriha' styled on earth- In Earth and Heavens and If ells Incomparable, All-honored, Wisest, Best, most Pitiful ; The Teacher of Nirvdna and the Law. Thus came he to be born again for men. Below the highest sphere four Regents sit' Who rule our world, and under them are zones Nearer, but high, where saintliest spirits dead Wait thrice ten thousand years,* then live again ; And on Lord Buddha, waiting in that sky, Came for oar sakes the five sure signs of birth' So that the Devas' knew the signs, and said " Buddha will go again to help the World." " Vca ! " spake He, " now I go to help the World 9 10.. .the: LIGHT OF ASIA. This yi^t n£ many tirij'es ; 'for birth and death End hence for me and those who learn my Law. I will go down among the Sakyas,' Under the southward snows of Himalay, Where pious people live and a just King." That night the wife of King Suddhodana,' Maya the Queen,' asleep beside her Lord, Dreamed a strange dream ; dreamed that a star fro:.i heaven — Splendid, six-rayed, in color rosy-pearl, Whereof the token was an Elephant'" Six-tusked and whiter than Vahuka's" milk — Shot through the void and, shining into her, Entered her womb upon the right. Awaked, Bliss beyond mortal mother's filled her breast, And over half the earth a lovely light Forewent the morn. The strong hills shook ; the waves Sank lulled ; all flowers that blow by day came forth As 'twere high noon ; down to the farthest hells Passed the Queen's joy, as when warm sunshine thrills Wood-glooms to gold, and into all the deeps A tender whisper pierced."' " Oh ye," it said, " The dead that are to live, the live who die. Uprise, and hear, and hope ! Buddha is come ! " Whereat in Limbos numberless much peace Spread, and the world's heart throbbed, and a wind blew With unknown freshness over lands and seas. And when the morning dawned, and this was told, The gray dream-readers" said " The dream is good ! TJie Crab is in conjunction with the Sun ;" BOOK THE FIRST. i The Queen shall bear a boy, a holy child Of wondrous wisdom, profiting all flesh, Who shall deliver men from ignorance. Or rule the world, if he will deign to rule." In this wise was the holy lUiddha born. Queen Maya stood at noon, her days fulfilled, Under a Falsa" in the Palace-grounds, A stately trunk, straight as a temple-shaft. With crown of glossy leaves and fragrant blooms : And, knowing the time come — for all things knew — The conscious tree bent down its boughs to make A bower about Queen Maya's majesty. And Earth put forth a thousand sudden flowers I'o spread a couch, while, ready for the bath, I'he rock hard by gave out a limpid stream Of crystal flow. So brought she forth her child Panglcss — he having on his perfect form The marks, thirty and two, of blessed birth ; Of which the great news to the Palace came, liut when they brought the painted palanquin" I'o fetch him home, the bearers of the poles Were the four Regents of the Earth, come down From Mount Sumcru" — they who write men's deeds On brazen plates — the Angel of the East, Whose hosts are clad in silver robes, and bear Targets of pearl : the ."Vngel of the South, Whose horsemen, the Kumbhandas," ride blue steeds. With sapphire shields : the .\ngel of the West, By Nagas followed, riding steeds blood-red, 12 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. With coral shields : the Angel of the North, Environed by his Yakshas," all in gold, On yellow horses, bearing shields of gold. These, with their pomp invisible, came down And took the poles, in caste and outward garb Like bearers, yet most mighty gods ; and gods Walked free with men that day, though men knew not . For Heaven was filled with gladness for Earth's sake," Knowing Lord Buddha thus was come again. But King Suddhodana wist not of this ; The portents troubled, till his dream-readers Augured a Prince of earthly dominance, A Chakravartin," such as rise to rule Once in each thousand years ; seven gifts he has — The Chakra-ratna," disc divine ; the gem ; The horse, the Aswa-ratna,'" that proud steed Which tramps the clouds ; a snow-white elephant. The Hasti-ratna," born to bear his King ; The crafty Minister, the General Unconquered, and the wife of peerless grace, .The Istri-ratna,* lovelier than the Dawn. 1 For which gifts looking with this wondrous boy, The King gave order that his town should keep High festival ; therefore the ways were swept,*' Rose-odors sprinkled in the street, the trees Were hung with lamps and flags," while merry crowds Gaped on the sword-players'* and posturers, The jugglers," charmers, swingers, rope-walkers, The nautch-girls in their spangled skirts and bells" BOOK THE FIRST. That chime light laughter round their restless feet ; The masquers wrapped in skins of bear and deer. The tiger-tamers, wrestlers, ate umpire while they raced beneath the firs ^ikc hares at eve that run their playful rings ; 2» THE LIGHT OF ASIA. One with flower-stars crowned he, one with long plumes Plucked from eyed pheasant and the jungle-cock, One with fir-apples ; but who ran the last Came first for him, and unto her the boy Gave a tame fawn and his heart's love beside. And in the wood they lived many glad years, And in the wood they undivided died. Lo ! as hid seed shoots after rainless years, So good and evil, pains and pleasures, hates And loves, and all dead deeds, come forth again Bearing bright leaves or dark, sweet fruit or sour. Thus I was he and she Yasodhara ; And while the wheel of birth and death turns round, That which hath been must be between us two." But they who watched the Prince at prize-giving Saw and heard all, and told the careful King How sate Siddartha heedless, till there passed Great Suprabuddha's child, Yasodhara ; And how — at sudden sight of her — he clianged, And how she gazed on him and he on her, And of the jewel-gift, and what beside Passed in their speaking glance. The fond King smiled : " Look ! we have found" a lure ; take counsel now To fetch therewith our falcon from the clouds. Let messengers be sent to ask the maid In marriage for my son." But it was law With Sikyas, when any asked a maid 0| noble house, fair and desirable. He must make good his skill in martial arts BOOK THE SECONn. 29 Against all suitors who should challenge it ; Nor might this custom break itself for kings. Therefore her father spake : " Say to the King, The child is sought by princes far and near ; If thy most gentle son can bend the bow, Sway sword, and back a horse better than they, Best would he be in all and best to us : But how shall this be, with his cloistered ways ? " Then the King's heart was sore, for now the Prince Begged sweet Yas6dhara for wife — in vain, With Devadatta foremost at the bow, Ardjuna" master of all fiery steeds, And Nanda" chief in sword-play ; but the Prince Laughed low and said, " These things, too, I have learned Make proclamation that thy son will meet All comers at their chosen games. I think I shall not lose my love for such as these." So 'twas given forth that on the seventh day The Prince Siddartha summoned whoso would To match with him in feats of manliness. The victor's crown to be Yasodhara. Therefore, upon the seventh day, there went The Sdkya lords and town and country round Unto the maiddn ;" and the maid went too Amid her kinsfolk, carried as a bride. With music," arid with litters gayly dight, And gold-horned oxen, flower-caparisoned." Wliom Devadatta claimed, of royal line. And Nanda and Ardjuna, noble both. The flower of all youths there, till the Prince came 3" THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Riding his white horse Kantaka, which neighed. Astonished at this great strange world without : Also Siddartha gazed with wondering eyes On all those people born beneath the throne, Otherwise housed than kings, otherwise fed, And yet so like — perchance — in joys and griefs. But when the Prince saw sweet Yasodhara, Brightly he smiled, and drew his silken rein. Leaped to the earth from Kantaka's broad back. And cried, " He is not worthy of this pearl Who is not worthiest ; let my rivals prove If I have dared too much in seeking her." Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test And set a brazen drum si.x gows away, Ardjuna six and Devadatta eight ; But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum Ten gows-' from off the line, until it seemed A cowry-shelP for target. Then they loosed. And Nanda pierced his drum, Ardjuna his, And Devadatta drove a well-aimed shaft Through both sides of his mark, so that the crowd Marveled and cried ; and sweet Yasodhara Dropped the gold sari"' o'er her fearful eyes. Lest she should see her Prince's arrow fail. But he, taking their bow of lacquered cane, With sinews bound, and strong with silver wire, Which none but stalwart arms could draw ^ span. Thrummed it — low laughing — drew the twisted string Till the horns kissed, and the thick belly snapped : " That is for play, not love," he said ; "hath none A bow more fit for Sakya lords to use ? " BOOK THE SECOND. And one said, " There is Sinhahdnu's bow," Kept in the temple since we know not when. Which none can string, nor draw if it be strung." " Fetch me," he cried, " tliat weapon of a man ! " They brought the ancient bow, wrought of black steel Laid with gold tendrils on its brandling curves Like bison-horns ; and twice Sidddrtha tried Its strength across his knee, then spake — " Shoot now With this, my cousins ! " but they could not bring The stubborn arms a hand's-breadth nigher use ; Then the Prince, lightly leaning, bent the bow," Slipped home the eye upon the notch, ard twanged Sharply the cord, which, like an eagle's wing Thrilling the air, sang forth so clear and loud That feeble folk at home that day inquired " What is this sound ? " and people answered them, " It is the sound of Sinhahdnu's bow. Which the King's son has strung and goes to shoot ; " Then fitting fair a shaft, he drew and loosed. And the keen arrow clove the sky, and drave Right through that farthest drum, nor stayed its flight But skimmed the plain beyond, past reach ov eye. Then Devadatta challen ;ed with the sword. And clove a Talas-tree" six fingers thick ;** Ardjuna seven ; and Nanda cut through nine ; But two such stems together grew, and both Sidddrtha's blade shred at one flashing stroke. Keen, but so smooth that the straight trunks upstood, And Nanda cried, " His edge turned ! " and the maid Trembled anew seeing the trees erect, 32 THE LIGHT OF ASTA. Until the Devas of the air, who watched, Blew light breaths from the south, and both green crowns Crashed in the sand, clean-felled. Then brought they steeds High-mettled, nobly- bred, and three times scoured Around the maidan, but white Kantaka Left even the fleetest far behind — so swift, That ere the foam fell from Iiis mouth to earth Twenty spear-lengths he flew ; but Nanda said, "We too mi.i;ht win with such as Kantaka ; Bring an unbroken horse, and let men see Who best can back him." So the syces^ brought A stallion dark as night, led by three chains, Fierce eyed, with nostrils wide and tossing mane. Unshod, unsaddled, for no rider yet Had crossed him. Three times each young Sikya Sprang to his mighty back, but the hot steed Furiously reared, and flung them to the plain In dust and shame ; only Ardjuna held His seat awhile, and, bidding loose the chains, Lashed the black flank, and shook the bit, and held The proud jaws fast with grasp of master-hand. So that in storms of wrath and rage and fear The savage stallion circled once the plain Half-tamed ; but sudden turned with naked teeth, Gripped by the foot Ardjuna, tore him down. And would have sl.iin him, but the grooms ran in Fettering the maddened beast. Then all men cried, " Let not Siddartha meddle with this Bhiit,'' Whose liver is a tempest, and his blood Red flame ; " but the Prince said, " Let go the chains, BOOK THE SECOND. Give me his forelock only," which he held With quiet grasp, and, speaking some low word, Laid his right palm across the stallion's eyes. And drew it gently down the angry face, And all along the neck and panting flanks. Till men astonished saw the night-black horse Sink his fierce crest and stand subdued and meek, As though he knew our Lord and worshiped him. Nor stirred he while Siddartha mounted, then Went soberly to touch of knee and rein Before all eyes, so that the people said, " Strive no more, for Sidddrtha is the best." And all the suitors answered " He is best ! " And Suprabuddha, father of the maid. Said, " It was in our hearts to find thee best. Being dearest, yet what magic taught thee more Of manhood 'mid thy rose-bowers and thy dreams Than war and chase and world's work bring to these r But wear, fair Prince, the treasure thou hast won." Then at a word the lovely Indian girl Rose from her place above the throng, and took A crown of radgra-flowers" and lightly drew The veil of black and gold across her brow, Proud pacing past the youths, until she came To where Siddartha stood in grace divine, New lighted from the night-dark steed, which bent Its strong neck meekly underneath his arm. Before the Prince lowly she bowed, and bared Her face celestial beaming with glad love ; Then on his neck she hung the fragrant wreath, 9 34 THE LIGHT OF ASIA And on his breast she laid her perfect head, And stooped to touch his feet with proud glad eyes, Saying, " Dear Prince, behold me, who am thine ! " And all the throng rejoiced, seeing them pass Hand fast in hand, and heart beating with heart, The veil of black and gold drawn close again. Long after — when enlightenment was come — They prayed Lord Buddha touching all, and why She wore this black and gold, and stepped so proud. And the World-honored answered, " Unto me This was unknown, albeit it seemed half known ; For while the wheel of birth and death turns round, Past things and thoughts, and buried lives come back I now remember, myriad rains ago. What time I roamed Himala's hanging woods, A tiger, with my striped and hungry kind ; I, who am Buddh, couched in the kusa grass" Gazing with green blinked eyes upon the herds Which pastured near and nearer to their death- Round my day-lair ; or underneath the stars I roamed for prey, savage, insatiable, Sniffing the paths for track of man and deer. Amid the beasts that were my fellows then, Met in deep jungle or by reedy jheel,^* A tigress, comeliest of the forest, set The males at war ; her hide was lit with gold, Black-broidered like the veil Yasodhara Wore for me ; hot the strife waxed in that wood With tooth and claw, while underneath a neem^ The fair beast watched us bleed, thus fiercely wooed. BOOK THE SVrOND. And I remember, at the end she came Snarling past tliis and that torn forest-lord Which I had conquered, and with fawning jaws Licked my quick-heaving flank, and with me went Into the wild with proud steps, amorously. The whed of birth and death turns low and high." Therefore the maid was given unto the Prince A wilhng spoil ; and when the stars were good — Mesha," the Red Ram, being Lord of heaven — The marriage feast was kept, as Sdkyas use, The golden gadi" set, the carpet spread, • The wedding garlands hung, the arm-threads tied," The sweet cake broke, the rice and attar thrown,^' The two straws floated on the reddened milk, Which, coming close, betokened " love till death ; ' The seven steps taken thrice around the fire, The gifts bestowed on holy men, the alms And temple offerings made, the mantras'* sung. The garments of the bride and bridegroom tied. Then the gray father spake : " Worshipful Prince, She that was ours henceforth is only thine ; Be good to her, who hath her life in thee." Where^tith they brought home sweet Yasodhara, With songs and trumpets, to the Prince's arms, And love was all in all. Yet not to love Alone trusted the King ; love's prison-house Stately and beautiful he bade them build, So that in all the earth no marvel was Like Vishramvan, the Prince's pleasure-placev JO THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Midway in those wide palace-grounds there rose A verdant hill whose base Rohini® batlied, Murmuring adown from Kimalay's broad feet, To bear its tribute into Gunga's* waves. Southward a growth of tamarind trees and sal/' Thick set with pale sky-colored ganthi flowers/' Shut out the world, save if the city's hum Came on the wind no harsher than when bees Hum out of sight in thickets. Northwards soared The stainless ramps of huge Himala's wall,'" Ranged in white ranks against the blue — untrod. Infinite, wonderful — whose uplands vast, And lifted universe of crest and crag, Shoulder and shelf, green slope and icy horn, Riven ravine, and splintered precipice Led climbing thought higher and higher, until It seemed to stand in heaven and speak with gods. Beneath the snows dark forests spread, sharp laced With leaping cataracts and veiled with clouds : Lower grew rosfe-oaks and the great fir groves Where echoed pheasant's call and panther's cry. Clatter of wild sheep on the stones, and scream Of circling eagles : under these the plain Gleamed like a praying-carpet at the foot * Of those divinest altars. Fronting this The builders set the bright pavilion up. Fair-planted on the terraced hill, with towers On either flank and pillared cloisters round. Its beams were carved with stories of old time — Radha and Krishna and the sylvan girls — " Sita" and Hanuman and Draupadi f' BOOK THE SECOND. j And on the middle porch God Ganesha, With disc and hook — to brinf; wisdom and wealth — Propitious sate, wreathing his sidelong trunk." hy winding ways of garden and of court The inner gate was reached, of marble wrought, White with pink veins ; the lintel lazuli, The threshold alabaster, and the doors .Sandal-wood, cut in pictured paneling ; Whereby to lofty halls and shadowy bowers Passed the delighted foot, on stately stairs, Through latticed galleries, 'neath painted roofs And clustering columns, where cool fountains — fringed With lotus and nelumbo" — danced, and fish Gleamed through their crystal, scarlet, gold, and blue. Great-eyed gazelles in sunny alcoves browsed The blown red roses ; birds of rainbow wing Fluttered among the palms ; doves, green and gray, Built their safe nests on gilded cornices ; Over the shining pavements peacocks drew The splendors of their trains, sedately watched By milk-white herons and the small house-owls. The plum-necked parrots swung from fruit to fruit ; The yellow sun-birds whirred from bloom to bloom. The timid lizards on the lattice basked Fearless, the squirrels ran to feed from hand, For all was peace : the shy black snake, that gives Fortune to households, sunned his sleepy coils Under the moon-flowers, where the musk-deer played, And brown-eyed monkeys chattered to the crows. .\nd all thishouse of love was peopled fair With sweet attendance, so that in each part 38 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. With lovely sights were gentle faces found, Soft speech and willing service, each one glad To gladden, pleased at pleasure, proud to obey ; Till life glided beguiled, like a smooth stream Banked by perpetual flow'rs, Yasodhara Queen of the enchanting Court. But innermost, Beyond the richness of those hundred halls, A secret chamber lurked, where skill had spent All lovely fantasies to lull the mind. The entrance of it was a cloistered square — Roofed by the sky, and in the midst a tank — Of milky marble built, and laid with slabs Of milk-white marble ; bordered round the tank And on the steps, and all along the frieze With tender inlaid work of agate-stones. Cool as to tread in summer-time on snows It was to loiter there ; the sunbeams dropped Their gold, and, passing into porch and niche, Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim. As if the very Day paused and grew Eve In love and silence at that bower's gate ; For there beyond the gate the chamber was, Beautiful, sweet ; a wonder of the world ! Soft light from perfumed lamps through windows fell Of nakre*' and stained stars of lucent film On golden cloths outspread, and silken beds. And heavy splendor of the purdah's" fringe, Lifted to take only the loveliest in. Here, whether it was night or day none knew. For always streamed that softened light, more bright BOOK THE SECOND. Than sunrise, but as tender as the eve's ; And always breathed sweet airs, more joy-giving Than morning's, but as cool as midnight's breath ; And night and day lutes sighed, and night and day Delicious foods were spread, and dewy fruits, Sherbets new chilled with snows of Himalay, And sweetmeats made of subtle daintiness, With sweet tree-milk in its own ivory cup. And night and day served there a chosen band Of nautch girls, cup-bearers, and cymbalers, Delicate, dark-browed ministers of love. Who fanned the sleeping eyes of the happy Prince, And when he waked, led back his thoughts to bliss With music whispering through the blooms, and charm Of amorous songs and dreamy dances, linked By chime of ankle-bells and wave of arms And silver vina-strings ;" while essences Of musk and champak and the blue haze spread From burning spices soothed his soul again To drowse by sweet Yas6dhara ; and thus Sidddrtha lived forgetting. Furthermore, The King commanded that within those walls No mention should be made of death or age, Sorrow, or pain, or sickness. If one drooped In the lovely Court — her dark glance dim, her feet Faint in the dance — the guiltless criminal Passed forth an exile from that Paradise, Lest he should see and suffer at her woe. Bright-eyed intendants watched to execute Sentence on such as spake of the harsh world ^O THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Without, wnere aches and plagues were, tears and fears, And wail of mourners, and grim fume of pyres. 'Twas treason if a thread of silver strayed In tress of singing-girl or nautch-dancer ; And every dawn the dying rose was plucked. The dead leaves hid, all evil sights removed : For said the King, " If he shall pass his youth Far from such things as move to wistfulness, And brooding on the empty eggs of thought, The shacJow of this fate, too vast for man, May fade, belike, and I shall see him grow To that great stature ^f fair sovereignty" When he shall rule all lands — if he will rule — The King of kings and glory of his time." Wherefore, around that pleasant prison-house — Where love was jailer and delights its bars, But far removed from sight — the King bade build A massive wall, and in the wall a gate With brazen folding-doors, which but to roll Back on their hinges asked a hundred arms ; Also the noise of that prodigious gate Opening, was heard full half a yojana. And inside this anotlier gate he made, And yet within another — through the three Must one pass if he quit that Pleasure-house. Three mighty gates there were, bolted and barred. And over each was set a faithful watch ; And the King's order said, " Suffer no man To pass the gates, though he should be the Prince : This on your lives — even though it be my son." Book the dhirl*. In which calm home of happy life and love I.igged our Lord Buddha, knowing not of woe, Nor want, nor pain, nor plague, nor age, nor death, Save as when sleepers roam dim seas in dreams. And land awearied on the shores of day, Bringing strange merchandise from that black voyage. Thus ofttimes when he lay with gentle head Lulled on the dark breasts of Yasodhara, Her fond hands fanning slow his sleeping lids. He would start up and cry, " My world ! Oh, world ! I hear ! I know ! I come ! " And she would ask, " What ails my Lord ? " with large eyes terror-slruck For at such times the pity in his look Was awful, and his visage like a god's. Then would he smile again to stay her tears, And bid the vfnas sound ; but once they set A stringed gourd on the sill, there where the wind Could linger o'er its notes and play at will — Wild music makes the wind on silver strings — .\nd those who lay around heard only that ; Bat Prince Siddartha heard the Devas play, \n(l to his ears they sang such words as these : — 41 42 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. l^ e are the voices of the wandering wind, Which moan for rest and rest can never find ; Lo! as the wind is so is mortal life, A moan, a sigh, a sob, a storm, a strife. Wherefore and whence we are ye cannot know. Nor where life springs nor whither life doth go ; We are as ye are, ghosts from the inane, What pleasure have we of our changeful pain ? What pleasure hast thou of thy changeless bliss ? Nay, if love lasted, there were Joy in this j But life's way is the wind's way, all these things Are but brief voices breathed on shifting strings. O Mayd's son ! because we roam the earth Moan we upon these strings j we make no mirth, So many woes we see in many lands. So many streaming eyes and wringing hattds. Yet mock we while we wail, for, could they know. This life they cling to is but empty show ; ' Twere all as well to bid a cloud to stand. Or hold a running river with the hand. But thou that art to save, thine hour is nigh ! The sad world waitcth in its misery. The blind world stumbleth on its round of pain ; Rise, Mayd's child ! wake ! slumber not again! We are the voices of the wandering wind : Wander thou, too, O Prince, thy rest to find; BOOK THE THIRD. Leave love for Im^e of Inrrs, for woe's sake Quit state for sorrow, and deliverance make. So sigli we, passing o'er the silver strings, To thee who kno^v'st not yet of earthly things ; So say we ; mocking, as we pass atvay. These lovely shado^vs wherewith thou dost play. ^ Thereafter it befell he sate at eve Amid his beauteous Court, holding the hand Of sweet Yasbdhara, and some maid told — With breaks of music when her rich voice dropped- An ancient tale to speed the hour of dusk, Of love, and of a magic horse, and lands Wonderful, distant, where pale peoples dwelled, And where the sun at night sank into seas. Then spake he, sighing, " Chitra' brings me back The wind's song in the strings with that fair tale. Give her, Yasddhara, thy pearl for thanks. But thou, my pearl ! is there so wide z. world .' Is there a land which sees the great sun roll Into the waves, and are there hearts like ours, Countless, unknown, not happy — it may be — Whom we might succor if we knew of them ? Ofttimes I marvel, as the Lord of day Treads from the east his kingly road of gold. Who first on the world's edge hath hailed his beam. The children of the morning ; oftentimes. Even in thine arms and on thy breasts, bright wife. Sore have I pr.ntcd, at the sun's decline, To pass with him into that crimson west 44 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. And see the peoples of the evening. There must be many we should love — how else ? Now have I in this hour an ache, at last, Thy soft lips cannot kiss away : oh, girl ! O Chitra ! you that know of fairyland ! Where tether they that swift steed of the tale ? My palace for one day upon his back, To ride and ride and see the spread of the earth ! Nay, if I had yon callow vulture's plumes — The carrion heir of wider realms than mine — How would I stretch for topmost Himalay, Light where the rose-gleam lingers on those snows. And strain my gaze with searching what is round ! Why have I never seen and never sought ? Tell me what lies beyond our brazen gates." Then one replied, " The city first, fair Prince ! The temples, and the gardens, and the groves. And then the fields, and afterwards fresh fields, With nullahs,^ maidans,' jungle, koss on koss ;'' And next King Bimbsara's realm, and then The vast flat world, with crores on crores' of folk." " Good," said Siddartha, " let the word be sent That Channa yoke my chariot — at noon To-morrow I shall ride and see beyond." Whereof they told the King : " Our Lord, thy son. Wills that his chariot be yoked at noon. That he may ride abroad and see mankind." "Yea ! " spake the careful King, " 'tis time he see 1 BOOK THE THIRD. But let the criers go about and bid My city deck itself, so there be met No noisome sight ; and let none blind or maimed, None that is sick or stricken deep in years, No leper, and no feeble folk come forth." Therefore the stones were swept, and up and down The water-carriers sprinkled all the streets From spirting skins,' the housewives scattered fresh Red powder on their thresholds, strung new wreaths. And trimmed the tulsi-bush' before their doors. The paintings on the walls were heightened up With liberal brush, the trees set thick with flags, The idols gilded ; in the four-went ways Suryadeva* and the great gods shone "Mid shrines of leaves ; so that the city seemed A capital of some enchanted land. Also the criers passed, with drum and gong, Proclaiming loudly, " Ho ! all citizens. The King commands that there be seen to-day No evil sight : let no one blind or maimed. None that is sick or stricken deep in years, No leper, and no feeble folk go forth. Let none, too, burn his dead nor bring them out Till nightfall. Thus Suddhodana commands." So all was comely and the houses trim Throughout Kapilavastu, while tiie Prince Came forth in painted car, which two steers drew,' Snow-white, with swinging dewlaps and huge humps Wrinkled against the carved and lacquered yoke. Goodly it was to mark tlic people's joy 46 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Greeting their Prince ; and glad Siddartha waxed At sight of all those liege and friendly folk Bright-clad'" and laughing as if life were good. " Fair is the world," he said, " it likes me well ! And light and kind these men that are not kings, And sweet my sisters here, who toil and tend ; What have I done for these to make them thus ? Why, if I love them, should those children know ? I pray take up yon pretty Sakya boy Who flung us flowers, and let him ride with me. How good it is to reign in realms like this ! How simple pleasure is, if these be pleased Because I come abroad ! How many things I need not if such little households hold Enough to make our city full of smiles ! Drive, Channa ! through the gates, and let me see More of this gracious world I have not known." So passed they through the gates, a joyous crowd Thronging about the wheels, whereof some ran Before the oxen, throwing wreathS; some stroked Their silken flanks, some brought them rice and cakes All crying, " Jai ! jai !" for our noble Prince ! " Thus all the path was kept with gladsome looks And filled with fair sights — for the King's word was That such should be — when midway in the road, Slow tottering from the hovel where he hid. Crept forth a wretch in rags, haggard and foul, An old, old man, whose shriveled skin, sun-tanned, Clung like a beast's hide to his fleshless bones. Bent was his back with load of many days, BOOK TUF. TIIIRn. His eyepits red with rust of ancient tears, His dim orbs blear with rheum, his toothless jaws Wagging with palsy and the fright to see So many and such joy. One skinny hand Clutched a worn staff to prop his quavering limbs, And one was pressed upon the ridge of ribs Whence came in gasps the heavy painful breath. " Alms !" moaned he, "give, good people ! for I die To-morrow or the next day ! " then the cough Choked him, but still he stretched his palm, and stood Blinking, and groaning 'mid his spasms, " Alms ! " Then those around had wrenched his feeble feet Aside, and thrust him from the road again. Saying, " The Prince ! dost see ? get to thy lair I " But that Siddartha cried, " Let be ! let be ! Channa ! what thing is this who seems a man. Yet surely only seems, being so bowed. So miserable, so horrible, so sad ? Are men bom sometimes thus ? What meaneth he Moaning ' to-morrow or next day I die ? ' Finds he no food that so his bones jut forth ? What woe hath happened to this piteous one ? " Then answer made the charioteer, " Sweet Prince ! This is no other than an aged man. Some fourscore years ago his back was straight. His eye bright, and his body goodly : now The thievish years have sucked his sap away, Pillaged his strength and filched his will and wit ; His lamp has lost its oil, the wick burns black ; What life he keeps is one poor lingering spark Which flickers for the finish : such is age ; 48 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Why should your Highness heed ? " Then spake the Prince — " But shall this come to others, or to all, Or is it rare that one should be as he ? " " Most noble," answered Channa, " even as he, Win all these grow if they shall live so long." " But," quoth the Prince, " if I shall live as long Shall I be thus ; and if Yasbdhara Live fourscore years, is this old age for her, Jdlini," little Hasta," Gautami," And Gunga," and the others ? " " Yea, great Sir ! " The charioteer replied. Then spake the Prince : " Turn back, and drive me to my house again ! I have seen that I did not think to see." Which pondering, to his beauteous Court returned Wistful Siddartha, sad of mien and mood ; Nor tasted he the white cakes nor the fruits Spread for the evening feast, nor once looked up While the best palace-dancers strove to charm : Nor spake — save one sad thing — when wofully Yas5dhara sank to his feet and wept, Sighing, " Hath not my Lord comfort in me ? " " Ah, Sweet ! " he said, " such comfort that my soul Aches, thinking it must end, for it will end,'* And we shall both grow old, Yasbdhara ! Loveless, unlovely, weak, and old, and bowed. Nay, though we locked up love and life -mth lips So close that night and day our breaths grew one, Time would thrust in between to filch away My passion and thy grace, as black Night steals BOOK THE THIRD. The rose-gleams from yon peak, which fade to gray And arc not seen to fade. This have I found, And all my heart is darkened with its dread, .\nd all my heart is fixed to think how Love Might save its sweetness from the slayer, Time, Who makes men old." So tiirough that night he sate Sleepless, uncomforted. And all that night The King Suddhodana dreamed troublous dreams. The first fear of his vision was a flag Broad, glorious, glistening with a golden sun, The mark of Indra ;" but a strong wind blew, Rending its folds divine, and dashing it Into the dust ; whereat a concourse came Of shadowy Ones, who took the spoiled silk up And bore it eastward from the city gates. The second fear was ten huge elephants. With silver tusks and feet that shook the earth, Trampling the southern road in mighty march ; And he who sate upon the foremost beast Was the King's son — the others followed him. The third fear of the vision was a car, Shining with blinding light, which four steeds drew, Snorting white smoke and champing fiery foam ; And in the car the Prince Siddartha sate. The fourth fear was a wheel which turned and turned, With nave of burning gold and jeweled spokes. And strange things written on the binding tire, Which seemed boiii fire and music as it whirled. The fifth fear was a mighty drum, set down Midway between the city and the hills. 50 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. On which the Prince beat with an iron mace, So that the sound pealed Hke a thunder-storm, Rolling around the sky and far away. The sixth fear was a tower, which rose and rose High o'er the city till its stately head Shone crowned with clouds, and on the top the Prince Stood, scattering from both hands, this way and that, Gems of most lovely light, as if it rained Jacinths and rubies ; and the whole world came, Striving to seize those treasures as they fell Towards the four quarters. But the seventh fear was A noise of wailing, and behold six men Who wept and gnashed their teeth, and laid their palms Upon their mouths, walking disconsolate. These seven fears made the vision of his sleep. But none of all his wisest dream-readers Could tell their meaning. Then the King was wroth, Saying, " There cometh evil to my house. And none of ye have wit to help me know What the great gods portend sending me this." So in the city men went sorrowful Because the King had dreamed seven signs of fear Which none could read ; but to the gate there came .\n aged man, in robe of deer-skin clad. By guise a hermit, known to none ; he cried, " Bring me before the King, for I can read The vision of his sleep ; " who, when he heard The sevenfold mysteries of the midnight dream, Bowed reverent and said, " O Maharaj ! I hail this favored House, whence shall arise BOOK THE THIRD. A wider-reaching splendor than the sun's ! Lo ! all these seven fears are seven joys, Whereof the first, where thou didst see a flag — Broad, glorious, gilt with Indrd's badge — c^st do^vn And carried out, did signify the end » Of old faiths and beginning of the new, ' For there is change with gods not less than men. And as the days pass kalpas pass at length. The ten great elephants that shook tlie earth The ten great gifts of wisdom signify,'* •' In strength whereof the Prince shall quit his state And shake the world with passage of the Truth. The four flame-breathing horses of the car Are those four fearless virtues" which shall bring * Thy son from doubt and gloom to gladsome light ; The wheel that turned with nave of burning gold Was that most precious Wheel of perfect Law »^ Which he shall turn in sight of all the world. The mighty drum whereon the Prince did beat, Till the sound filled all lands, doth signify The thunder of the preaching of the Word * Which he shall preach ; the tower that grew to heaven The growing of the Gospel of this Buddh ' Sets forth ; and those rare jewels scattered thence The untold treasures are of that good Law » To gods and men dear and desirable. Such is the interpretation of the tower ; But for those six men weeping with shut mouths, They are the six chief teachers whom thy son Shall, with bright truth and speech unanswerable, Convince of foolishness. O King ! rejoice ; The fortune of my Lord the Prince is more 52 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Than kingdoms, and his hermit-rags will be Beyond fine cloths of gold. This was thy dream ! And in seven nights and days these things shall fall." So spake the holy man, and lowly made The eight prostrations, touching thrice the ground ; Then turned and passed ; but when the King bade send A rich gift after him, the messengers Brought word, " We came to where he entered in At Chandra's temple,™ but within was none Save a gray owl which fluttered from the shrine." The gods come sometimes thus. But the sad King Marveled, and gave command that new delights Be compassed to inthrall Siddartha's heart Amid those dancers of his pleasure-house, Also he set at all the brazen doors A doubled guard. Yet who shall shut out Fate ? For once again the spirit of the Prince Was moved to see this world beyond his gates, This life of man, so pleasant if its waves Ran not to waste and woful finishing In Time's dry sands. " I pray you let me view Our city as it is," such was his prayer To King Suddhodana. " Your Majesty In tender heed hath warned the folk before To put away ill things and common sights, And make their faces glad to gladden me. And all the causeways gay ; yet have I learned This is not daily life, and if I stand BOOK THE THIRD. Nearest, my father, to the realm and thee, Fain would I know the people and the streets, Their simple usual ways, and work-day deeds, And lives which those men live who are not kings, ("live me good leave, dear Lord ! to pass unknown Keyond my happy gardens ; I shall come The more contented to their peace again, Or wiser, father, if not well content. Therefore, I pray thee, let me go at will To-morrow, with my servants, through the streets." And the King said, among his Ministers, " Belike this second flight may mend the first. Note how the falcon starts at every sight New from his hood, but what a quiet eye Cometh of freedom ; let my son see all. And bid them bring me tidings of his mind." Thus on the morrow, when the noon was come, The Prince and Channa passed beyond the gates, Which opened to the signet of the King ; Yet knew not they who rolled the great doors back It was the King's son in that merchant's robe," .■\nd in the clerkly dress" his charioteer. Forth fared they by the common way afoot, Mingling with all the Sakya citizens, • Seeing the glad and sad things of the town : The painted streets alive with hum of noon, The traders cross-legged 'mid their spice and grain," The buyers with their money in the cloth,** The war of words to cheapen this or that," The shout to clear the road, " the huge stone wheels. The strong slow oxen and their rustling loads, 54 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. The singing bearers with the palanquins," The broad-necked hamals'® sweating in the sun, The housewives bearing water from the well With balanced chatties, and athwart their hips The black-eyed babes ; '^ the fly-swarmed sweetmeat shops,*" The weaver at his loom,^' the cotton-bow Twanging,'" the millstones grinding meal, the dogs Prowling for orts, the skillful armorer With tong and hammer linking shirts of mail, The blacksmith with a mattock and a spear Reddening together in his coals, the school Where round their Gurii, in a grave half-moon, The Sakya children sang the mantras through, And learned the greater and the lesser gods ; " The dyers stretching waistcloths in the sun ** Wet from the vats — orange, and rose, and green ; The soldiers clanking past with swords and shields, The camel-drivers rocking on the humps, The Brahmin proud,'^ the martial Kshatriya," The humble toiling Sudra ; '' here a throng Gathered to watch some chattering snake-tamer Wind round his wrist the living jewelry Of asp and nag,^ or charm the hooded death To a^ry dance with drone of beaded gourd ; " There a long line of drums and horns, which went _With steeds gay painted and silk canopies, To bring the young bride home ; and here a wife Stealing with cakes and garlands to the god To pray her husband's safe return from trade, Or beg a boy next birth ;" hard by the booths BOOK THF. THIRD. Where the swart potters heal the noisy brass ¥oT himps and lotas ; *' thence, by temple walls And gateways, to the river and the bridge Under the city walls. These had they passed When from the roadside moaned a mournful voice, " Help, masters ! lift me to my feet ; oh, help ! Or I shall die before I reach my house ! " A stricken wretch it was, whose quivering frame, Caught by some deadly plague, lay in the dust Writhing, with fiery purple blotches specked ; The chill sweat beaded on his brow, his mouth Was dragged awry with twitchings of sore pain, The wild eyes swam with inward agony. Gasping, he clutched the grass to rise, and rose Half-way, then sank, with quaking feeble limbs And scream of terror, crying, "Ah, the pain ! Good people, help ! " whereon Siddartha ran. Lifted the woful man with tender hands. With sweet looks laid the sick head on his knee, And while his soft touch comforted the wretch. Asked, " Brother, what is ill with thee? what harm Hath fallen ? wherefore canst thou not arise ? Why is it, Channa, that he pants and moans, And gasps to speak and sighs so pitiful ? " Then spake the charioteer : " Great Prince ! this man is smitten with some pest ; his elements Are all confounded ; in his veins the blood. Which ran a wholesome river, leaps and boils .•\ fiery flood ; his heart, which kept good time. Beats like an ill-played drum-skin, quick and slow ; 50 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. His sinews slacken like a bow-string slipped ; The strength is gone from ham, and loin, and neck, And all the grace and joy of manhood fled : This is a sick man with the fit upon him. See how he plucks and plucks to seize his grief, And rolls his bloodshot orbs, and grinds his teeth, And draws his breath as if 'twere choking smoke. Lo ! now he would be dead, but shall not die Until the plague hath had its work in him. Killing the nerves which die before the life ; Then, when his strings have cracked with agony And all his bones are empty of the sense To ache, the plague will quit and light elsewhere. Oh, sir ! it is not good to hold him so ! The harm may pass, and strike thee, even thee." But spake the Prince, still comforting the man, " And are there others, are there many thus ? Or might it be to me as now with him ?" " Great Lord ! " answered the charioteer, " this comes In many forms to all men ; griefs and wounds. Sickness and tetters, palsies, leprosies. Hot fevers, watery wastings, issues, blains Befall all flesh and enter everywhere." " Come such ills unobserved ?" the Prince inquired. And Channa said, " Like the sly snake they come That stings unseen ; like the striped murderer," Who waits to spring from the Karunda bush,"*^-^ Hiding beside the jungle path ; or like / The lightning, striking these and sparing those. As chance may send." , " Then all men live in fear ? " BOOK THE THIRD. 57 " So live they, Prince ! " " And none can say, ' I sleep Happy and whole to-night, and so shall wake ? ' " None say it." " And the end of many aches, Which come unseen, and will come when they come, Is this, a broker, body and sad mind, And so old age ? " " Yea, if men last as long." " But if they cannot bear their agonies. Or if they will not bear, and seek a term ; Or if they bear, and be, as this man is. Too weak except for groans, and so still live. And growing old, grow older, then what end ? " " They die, Prince." " Die ? " " Yea, at the last comes death, In whatsoever way, whatever hour. Some few grow old, most suffer and fall sick. But all must die — behold, where comes the Dead !" Then did Siddartha raise his eyes, and see Fast pacing towards the river brink a band Of wailing people, foremost one who swung An earthen bowl with lighted coals," behind The kinsmen sliorn," with mourning marks, ungirt, Crying aloud, " O Rama," Rama, hear ! Call upon Rama, brothers ; " next the bier, Knit of four poles with bamboos interlaced, Whereon lay, stark and stiff, feet foremost, lean, Chapfallen, sightless, hollow-flanked, a-grin. S8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Sprinkled with red and yellow dust — the Dead, Whom at the four-went ways they turned head first, And crying " Rama, Rama ! " carried on To where a pile was reared beside the stream ;" Thereon they laid him, building fuel up — Good sleep hath one that slumbers on that bed ! He shall not wake for cold albeit he lies Naked to all the airs — for soon they set The red flame to the corners four, which crept, And licked, and flickered, finding out his flesh And feeding on it with swift hissing tongues. And crackle of parched skin, and snap of joint ; Till the fat smoke thinned and the ashes sank Scarlet and gray, with here and there a bone Wiiite midst the gray — the total of the man. Then spake the Prince : "Is this the end which comes To all who live ? " " This is the end that comes To all," quoth Channa ; "he upon the pyre — Wiiose remnants are so petty that the crows Caw hungrily, then quit the fruitless feast — Ate, drank, laughed, loved, and lived, and liked life well. Then came — who knows ? — some gust of jungle wind. A stumble on the path, a taint in the tank, A snake's nip, half a span of angry steel, A chill, a fishbone, or a falling tile. And life was over and the man is dead ; No appetites, no pleasures, and no pains Hath such ; the kiss upon his lips is nought. The fire-scorch nouglit ; he smelleth not his flesh BOOK TWE THIRD. A-roast, nor yet the sandal and the spice They burn ; the taste is emptied from his mouth, The hearing of his ears is clogged, the sight Is blinded in his eyes ; those whom he loved Wail desolate, for even that must go, The body, which was lamp unto the life. Or worms will have a horrid feast of it. Here is the common destiny of flesh : The high and low, the good and bad, must die, And then, 'tis taught, begin anew and live Somewhere, somehow,— who knows?— and so again The pangs, the parting, and the lighted pile :— Such is man's round." ** But lo ! Siddartha lurnc. Eyes gleaminR with divine tears to the sky, Eyes lit with heavenly pity to the earth ; From sky to earth he looked, from earth to sky. As if his spirit sought in lonely flight Some far-off vision, linking this and that, Lost— past— but searchable, but seen, but known. Then cried he, while his lifted countenance Glowed with the burning passion of a love Unspeakable, the ardor of a hope Boundless, insatiate : " Oh ! suffering world. Oh ! known and unknown of my common flesh. Caught in this common net of death and woe. And life which binds to both ! I see, I feel The vastness of the agony of earth, The vainness of its joys, the mockery Of all its best, the anguish of its worst ; Since pleasures end in pain, and youth in age. 6o THE LIGHT OF ASIA. And love in loss, and life in hateful death, And death in unknown lives, which will but yoke Men to their wheel again to whirl the round Of false delights and woes that are not false. Me too this lure hath cheated, so it seemed Lovely to live, and life a sunlit stream Forever flowing in a changeless peace ; Whereas the foolish ripple of the flood Dances so lightly down by bloom and lawn Only to pour its crystal quicklier Into the foul salt sea. The veil is rent Which blinded me ! I am as all these men Who cry upon their gods and are not heard Or are not heeded — yet there must be aid ! For them and me and all there must be help ' Perchance the gods have need of help themselves Being so feeble that when sad lips cry They cannot save ! I would not let one cry Whom I could save ! How can it be that Brahm *- Would make a world and keep it miserable, Since, if all-powerful, he leaves it so. He is not good, and if not powerful, . He is not God ? — Channa ! lead home again ! It is enough ! mine eyes have seen enough ! " AVhich when the King heard, at the gates he set A triple guard, and bade no man should pass ■ By day or night, issuing or entering in. Until the days were numbered of that dream. Book i\)e fonrti). But when the days were numbered, then befell The parting of our Lord — which was to be — Whereby came wailing in the Golden Home, Woe to the King and sorrow o'er the land, But for all flesh deliverance, and that Law Which — whoso hears — the same shall make him free. Softly the Indian night sinks on the plains At full moon in the month of Chaitra shud,' When mangoes redden and the asoka buds' Sweeten the breeze, and Rama's birthday comes,' And all the fields are glad and all the towns. Softly that night fell over Vishramvan, Fragrant with blooms and jeweled thick with stars. And cool with mountain airs sighing adown From snow-flats on Himala high-outspread ; For the moon swung above the eastern peaks, Climbing the spangled vault, and lighting clear Rohini's ripples and the hills and plains. And all the sleeping land, and near at hand Silvering those roof-tops of the pleasure-house, Where nothing stirred nor sign of watching was, Save at the outer gates whose warders cried 61 62 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Mudra* the watchword, and the countersign Angana,^ and the watch-drums beat a round ; Whereat the earth lay still, except for call Of prowling jackals, and the ceaseless 'trill Of crickets on the garden grounds. Within— Where the moon glittered through the lace-worked stone, Lighting the walls of pearl-shell and the floors Paved with veined marble — softly fell her beams On such rare company of Indian girls, It seemed some chamber sweet in Paradise Where Devas' rested. All the chosen ones Of Prince Siddartha's pleasure-home were there, The brightest and most faithful of the Court, Each form so lovely in the peace of sleep, That you had said " This is the pearl of alii "; Save that beside her or beyond her lay Fairer and fairer, till the pleasured gaze Roamed o'er that feast of beauty as it roams From gem to gem in some great goldsmith- work, Caught by each color till the next is seen. With careless grace they lay, their soft brown limbs Part hidden, part revealed ; their glossy hair Bound beck with gold or flowers, or flowing loose In black waves down the shapely nape and neck. Lulled into pleasant dreams by happy toils, They slept, no wearier than jeweled birds Which sing and love all day, then under wing Fold head till morn bids sing and love again. Lamps of chased silver swinging from the roof BOOK THE FOURTH. In silver chains, and fed with perfumed oils, Made with the moonbeams tender lights and shades, Whereby were seen the perfect lines of grace. The bosom's placid heave, the soft stained palms Drooping or clasped, the faces fair and dark, The great arched brows, the parted lips, the teeth Like pearls a merchant picks to make a string. The satin-lidded eyes, with lashes dropped Sweeping the delicate cheeks, the rounded wrists, The smooth small feet with bells and bangles decked. Tinkling low music where some sleeper moved, Breaking her smiling dream of some new dance Praised by the Prince, some magic ring to find. Some fairy love-gift. Here one lay full-length. Her vina by her cheek, and in its strings The little fingers still all interlaced As when the last notes of her light song played Those radiant eyes to sleep and sealed her own. Another slumbered folding in her arms A desert-antelope, its slender head Buried with back-sloped horns between her breasts. Soft nestling ; it was eating — when both drowsed — Red roses, and her loosening hand still held A rose half-mumbled, while a rose-leaf curled Between the deer's lips. Here two friends had dozed Together, weaving mogra-buds, which bound Their sister-sweetness in a starry chain, Linking them limb to limb and heart to heart One pillowed on the blossoms, one on her. .\nother, ere she slept, was stringing stones To make a necklet — agate, onyx, sard, 64 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Coral, and moonstone — round her wrist it gleamed A coil of splendid color, while she held, Unthreaded yet, the bead to close it up. Green turkis, carved with golden gods and scripts. Lulled by the cadence of the garden stream, Thus lay they on the clustered carpets, each A girlish rose with shut leaves, waiting dawn To open and make daylight beautiful. This was the antechamber of the Prince ; But at the purdah's fringe the sweetest slept — Gunga and Gotama — chief ministers In that still house of love. The purddh hung, Crimson and blue, with broidered threads of gold, Across a portal carved in sandal-wood. Whence by three steps the way was to the bower Of inmost splendor, and the marriage-couch Set on a dais soft with silver cloths, Where the foot fell as though it trod on piles Of neem-blocms. All the walls were plates of pearl, Cut shapely from the shells of Lanka's' wave ; And o'er the alabaster roof there ran Rich inlayings of lotus and of bird, Wrought in skilled work of lazulite and jade, Jacinth and jasper ; woven round the dome, And down the sides, and all about the frames Wherein were set the fretted lattices, Through which there breathed, with moonlight and cool airs. Scents from the shell-flowers and the jasmine sprays ; Not bringing thither grace or tenderness BOOK THE FOURTH. Sweeter than shed from those fair presences Within the place — the beauteous Sdkya Prince, And hers, the stately, bright Yas5dhara. Half risen from her soft nest at his side, The chuddah' fallen to her waist, her brow Laid in both palms, the lovely Princess leaned With heaving bosom and fast falling tears. Thrice with her lips she touched Siddartha's hand, And at the third kiss moaned, " Awake, my Lord ! Give me the comfort of thy speech ! " Tiien he — " What is it with thee, O my life ? " but still She moaned anew before the word^ would come ; Then spake, " Alas, my Prince ! I sank to sleep Most happy, for the babe I bear of thee Quickened this eve, and at my heart there beat That double pulse of life and joy and love Whose happy music lulled me, but — aho ! — In slumber I beheld three sights n ( HrpnH, With thought whereof my heart is throbbing yet. I saw a whit e Imll with wifl,» l^fii nching horoS y A lord of pastures, pacing through the streets. Be aring u^ onhis front a ge m which shone As if some star had dropped to glitter there, Or like the kantha-stone' the great Snake keeps To make bright daylight underneath the earth. Slow through the streets towards the gates he paced. And none could stay him, though there came a voice From Indrd's temple, ' If ye stay him not, The glory of the city goeth forth.' Yet none could stay him. Then I wept aloud, 8 66 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. And locked my arms about his neck, and strove, And bade them bar the gates ; but that ox-king Bellowed, and, lightly tossing free his crest, Broke from my clasp, and bursting through the bars. Trampled the warders down and passed away. The next strange dream was this : Four Presences Splendid, with shining eyes, so beautiful They seemed the Regents of the Earth who dwell On Mount Sumeru, lighting from the sky With retinue of countless heavenly ones, Swift swept unto our city, where I saw The golden flag of Indri on the gate Flutter and fall ; and la ! there rose instead A glorious banner, all the folds whereof Rippled with flashing fire of rubies sewn Thick on the silver threads, the rays wherefrom Set forth new words and weighty sentences Whose message made all living creatures glad ; And from the east the wind of sunrise blew With tender waft, opening those jeweled scrolls So that all flesh might read ; and wondrous blooms — Plucked in what clime I know not — fell in showers. Colored as none are colored in our groves." Then spake the Prince : " All this, my Lotus-flower Was good to see." " Ay, I.ord," the Princess said, "Save that it ended with a voice of fear Crying, ' The time is nigh ! the time is nigh ! ' Thereat the third dream came ; for when I sought Thy side, sweet Lord ! all, on our bed there lay BOOK THE FOURTH An unpressed pillow and an empty rof Nothing of thee but those ! — nothing of thee. Who art my life and light, my king, my world ! And sleeping still I rose, and sleeping saw Thy belt of pearls,- tied here below my breasts, Change to a stinging snake ; my ankle-rings Fall off, my golden bangles part and fall • The jasmines in my hair wither to dust ; Wiiile this our bridal-couch sank to the ground, And something rent the crimson purdah down ; Then far away I heard the white bull low. And far away the embroidered banner flap, And once again that cry, ' The time is come ! ' But with that cry — which shakes my spirit still — I woke ! O Prince ! what may such visions mean Except I die, or — worse than any death — Thou shouldst forsake me or be taken ? " Sweet As the last smile of sunset was the look Siddartha bent upon his weeping wife. " Comfort thee, dear ! " he said, " if comfort lives In changeless love ; for though thy dreams may be Shadows of things to come, and though the gods Are shaken in their seats, and though the world Stands nigh, perchance, to know some way of help, Yet, whatsoever fall to thee and me, Be sure I loved and love Yas6dhara. Thou knowest how I muse these many moons, Seeking to save the sad earth I have seen ; And when the time comes, that which will be will But if my rioul yearns sore for souls unknown. 68 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. And if I grieve for griefs which are not mine, Judge how my high-winged thoughts must hover here O'er all these lives that share and sweeten mine — So dear ! and thine the dearest, gentlest, best. And nearest. Ah, thou mother of my babe ! Whose body mixed with mine for this fair hope, When most my spirit wanders, ranging round The lands and seas — as full of ruth for men As the far-flying dove is full of ruth For her twin nestlings — ever it has come Home with glad wing and passionate plumes to thee. Who art the sweetness of my kind best seen, The utmost of their good, the tenderest Of all their tenderness, mine most of all. Therefore, whatever after this betide. Bethink thee of that lordly bull which owed, That jeweled banner in thy dream which waved Its folds departing, and of this be sure. Always I loved and always love thee well. And what I sought for all sought most for thee. But thou, take comfort ; and, if sorrow falls. Take comfort still in deeming there may be A way of peace on earth by woes of ours ; And have with this embrace what faithful love Can think of thanks or frame for benison — Too little, seeing love's strong self is weak — Yet kiss me on the mouth, and drink these words From heart to heart therewith, that thou mayst know- What others will not — that I loved thee most Because I loved so well all living souls. Now. Princess ! rest, for I will rise and watch." BOOK THE FOURTH. 69 Then in her tears she slept, but sleeping sighed — As if that vision passed again — " The time ! The time is come ! " Wliercat Siddartha turned, And, lo ! the moon shone by the Crab ! the stars In that same silver order long foretold Stood ranged to say, " This is the niglit ! — choose thou The way of greatness or the way of good : To reign a King of kings, or wander lone, iCrownless and homeless, that the world be helped." Moreover, with the whispers of the gloom Came to his ears again that warning song. As when the Devas spoke upon the wind : And surely Gods were round about the place Watching our Lord, who watched the shining stars. " I will depart," he spake ; " the hour is come ! Thy tender lips, dear sleeper, summon me To that which saves the ea-rth but sunders us ; .\nd in the silence of yon sky I read .My fated message flashing. Unto this ("ame I, and unto this all nights and days Have led me ; for I will not have that crown Which may be mine : I lay aside those realms Which wait the gleaming of my naked sword : My chariot shall not roll with bloody wheels From victory to victory, till earth Wears the red record of my name. I choose * */ To tread its paths with patient, stainless feet, Making its dust my bed, its loneliest wastes My dwelling, "and its meanest things my mates : Clad in no prouder garb than outcasts wear, . 70 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Fed with no meats save what the charitable Give of their will, sheltered by no more pomp Than the dim cave lends or the jungle-bush. This will I do because the woful cry Of life and all flesh living cometh up Into my ears, and all my soul is full Of pity for the sickness of this world ; ) Which I will heal, if healing may be found I By uttermost renouncing and strong strife. For which of all the great and lesser Gods Have power or pity ? Who hath seen them — who ? What have they wrought to help their worshipers ? How hath it steaded man to pray, and pay Tithes of the corn and oil, to chant the charms, To slay the shrieking sacrifice, to rear The stately fane, to feed the priests, and call On Vishnu,'" Shiva," Surya," who save None — not the worthiest — from the griefs that teach Those litanies of flattery and fear Ascending day by day, like wasted smoke ? Hath any of my brothers 'scaped thereby The aches of life, the stings of love and loss, The fiery fever and the ague-shake. The slow, dull sinking into withered age, The horrible dark death — and what beyond Waits — till the whirling wheel comes up again. And new lives bring new sorrows to be borne, New generations for the new desires Which have their end in the old mockeries ? Hath any of my tender sisters found Fruit of the fast or harvest of the hymn, BOOK THE FOURTH. 71 Oi bought one pang the less at bearing-time For white curds offered and trim tulsi-leaves ? Nay ; it may be some of the Gods are good And evit some, but all in action weak ; Both pitiful and pitiless, and both — As men are — bound upon this wheel of change, , Knowing the former and the alter lives. For so our scriptures truly seem to teach. That — once, and wheresoe'cr, and whence begun — Life runs its rounds of living, climbing up From mote, and gnat, and worm, reptile, and fish. Bird and shagged beast, man, demon, deva, God, To clod and mote again ; so are we kin To all that is ; and thus, if one might save Man from his curse, the whole wide world should share The lightened horror, of this ignorance Whose shadow is chill fear, and cruelty Its bitter pastime. Yea, if one might save ! And means must be ! There must be refuge ! Men Perished in winter-winds till one smote fire From flint-stones coldly hiding what they held, The red spark treasured from the kindling sun. They gorged on flesh like wolves, till one sowed corn, Which grew a weed, yet makes the life of man ; They mowed and babbled till some tongue struck speech And patient fingers framed the lettered sound. What good gift have my brothers, but it came From search and strife and loving sacrifice ? If one, then, being great and fortunate. Rich, dowered with health and ease, from birth designed To rule — if he would rule — a King of kings ; ya THE LIGHT OF ASIA. If one, not tired with life's long day but glad I' the freshness of its morning, one not cloyed With love's delicious feasts, but hungry still ; If one not worn and wrinkled, sadly sage. But joyous in the glory and the grace That mix with evils here, and free to choose Earth's loveliest at his will : one even as I, Who ache not, lack not, grieve not, save with griefs Which are not mine, except as I am man ; — If such a one, having so much to give, Gave all, laying it down for love of men, And thenceforth spent himself to search for truth, Wringing the secret of deliverance forth. Whether it lurk in hells or hide in heavens. Or hover, unrevealed, nigh unto all : Surely at last, far off, sometime, somewhere. The veil would lift for his deep-searching eyes, The road would open for his painful feet. That should be won for which he lost the world. And Death might find him conqueror of death. ifThis will I do, who have a realm to lose, Kecause I love my realm,, because my heart P?eats with each throb of all the hearts that ache. Known and unknown, these that are mine and those Which shall be mine, a thousand million more Saved by this sacrifice I offer now. Oh, summoning stars ! I come ! Oh, mournful ear:; For thee and thine I lay aside my youth, My tlirone, my joys, my golden days, my nights. My happy palace — and thine arms, sweet Queen ! Harder to put aside than all the rest ! BOOK THEN^gjWgy.'' Yet thee, too, I shall save, saving this earth ; And that which stirs within thy tender womb, My child, the hidden blossom of our loves, Whom if I wait to bless my mind williail. Wife ! child ! father ! and people ! ye must share A little while the anguish of this hour ' That light may break and all flesh learn the Law. \ Now am I fixed, and now I will depart. Never to come again till wliat I seek He found — if fervent search and strife avail." So with his brow he touched her feet, and bent The farewell of fond eyes, unutterable, Upon her sleeping face," still wet with tears ; And thrice around the bed in reverence, As though it were an altar, softly stepped With clasped hands laid upon his beating heart, " For never," spake he, " lie I there again ! " And thrice he made to go, but thrice came back. So strong her beauty was, so large his love : Then, o'er his head drawing his cloth, he turned And raised the purdah's edge : There drooped, close-lun In such sealed sleep as water-lilies know. The lovely garden of his Indian girls ; That twin dark-petaled lotus-buds of all — Gunga and Gautami — on either side, And those, their silk-leaved sisterhood, beyond. I'leasant ye are to me, sweet friends ! " he said, ■ And dear to leave ; yet if I leave ye not What else will come to all of us save eld 74 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Without assuage and death without avail? Lo ! as ye lie asleep so must ye lie A-dead ; and when the rose dies where are gone Its scent and splendor ? when the lamp is drained Whither is fled the flame ? Press heavy, Night ! Upon their down-dropped lids and seal their lips, That no tear stay me and no faithful voice. For all the brighter that these made my life, The bitterer it is that they and I, And all, should live as trees do — so much spring. Such and such rains and frosts, such winter-times, And then dead leaves, with may be spring again, Or ax-stroke at the root. This will not I, Whose life here was a God's ! — this would not I, Though all my days were godlike, while men moan Under their darkness. Therefore farewell, friends ' pV'hile life is good to give, I give, and go I VTo seek deliverance and that unknown Light ! " Then, lightly treading where those sleepers lay, Into the night Siddartha passed : its eyes. The watchful stars, looked love on him : its breath, The wandering wind, kissed his robe's fluttered fringe The garden-blossoms, folded for the dawn, Opened their velvet hearts to waft him scents From pink and purple censers : o'er the land, From Himalay unto the Indian Sea, A tremor spread, as if earth's soul beneath Stirred with an unknown hope ; and holy books — Which tell the story of our Lord — say, too, That rich celestial musics thrilled the air BOOK THE. FOURTH. 75 From hosts on hosts of shining ones, who thronged Eastward and westward, making bright the night — Northward and southward, making glad the ground. Also those four dread Regents of the Earth, Descending at the doorway, two by two, — With their bright legions of Invisibles In arms of sapphire, silver, gold, and pearl — Watched with joined hands the Indian Prince, who stood. His tearful eyes raised to the stars, and lips Close-set with purpose of prodigious love. Then strode he forth into the gloom and cried, " Channa, awake ! and bring out Kantaka ! " " What would my Lord ? " the charioteer replied — Slow-rising from his place beside the gate — " To ride at night when all the ways are dark ? " " Speak low," Siddartha said, " and bring my horse, For now the hour is come when I sliould quit This golden prison where my heart lives caged To find the truth ; which henceforth I will seek. For all men's sake, until the truth be found" " Alas ! dear Prince," answered the charioteer, " Spake then for nought those wise and holy men Who cast the stars and bade us wait the time When King Suddh6dana's great son should rule Realms upon realms, and be ^ Lord of lords ? Wilt thou ride hence and let the rich world slip Out of thy grasp, to hold a beggar's bowl ? 76 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Wilt thou go forth into the friendless waste That hast this Paradise of pleasures here ? " The Prince made answer, " Unto this I came, And not for thrones : the kingdom that I crave Is more than many realms — and all things pass To change and death. Bring me forth Kantaka ! " Most honored," spake again the charioteer, " Bethink thee of my Lord thy father's grief ! Bethink the:; of their woe whose bliss thou art — How shalt thou help them, first undoing them ? " \w Siddartha answered, " Friend, that love is false hich clings to love for selfish sweets of love ; But I, who love these more than joys of mine — Yea, more than joy of theirs — depart to save Them and all flesh, ii utmost love avaiL Go, bring me Kantaka ! " Then Channa said, " Master, I go ! " and forthwith, mournfully, 1 Unto the stall he passed, and from the rack Took down the silver bit and bridle-chains, Breast-cord and curb, and knitted fast the straps, And linked the hooks, and led out Kantaka : Whom tethering to the ring, he combed and dressed, Stroking the snowy coat to silken gloss ; Next on the steed he laid the numdah" square, Fitted the saddle-cloth across, and set The saddle fair, drew tight the jeweled girths BOOK THE FOURTH. Buckled the breech-bands and the martingale, And made fall both the stirrups of worked gold. Then over all he cast a golden net, With tassels of seed-pearl and silken strings, And led the great horse to the palace door, Where stood the Prince ; but when he saw his Lord, Right glad he waxed and joyou:ly he neighed, Spreading his scarlet nostrils ; and the books Write, " Surely all had hoard Kantaka's neigh, And that strong trampling of his ircn heels. Save that the Devas laid their unseen wings Over their ears and kept the sleepers deaf." Fondly Siddartha drew the proud head down, Patted the shining neck, and said, " Be still. White Kantaka ! be still, and bear me now The farthest journey ever rider rode ; For this night take I horse to find the truth, And where my quest will end yet know I not. Save that it shall not end until I find. Therefore to-night, good steed, be fierce and bold ! Let nothing stay thee, though a tiiousand blades Deny the road ! let neither wall nor moat Forbid our' flight ! Look ! if I touch thy flank And cry, ' On, Kantaka ! ' let whirlwinds lag Behind thy course ! Be fire and air, my horse ! To stead thy Lord, so shall thou share with him The greatness of tliis deed wliich helps the world ; For therefore ride I, not for men alone. But for all things which, speechless, share our pain And have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope. Now, therefore, bear thy master valorously ' " 78 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Then to the saddle lightly leaping, he Touched the arched crest, and Kantaka sprang forth With armed hoofs sparkling on the stones and ring Of champing bit ; but none did hear that sound, For that the Suddha Devas," gathering near. Plucked the red niohra- flowers" and strewed fhem thick Under his tread, while hands invisible Muffled the ringing bit and bridle-chains. Moreover, it is written when they cane Upon the pavement near the inner gates. The Yakshas of the air laid magic cloths Under the stallion's feet, so that he went Softly and still. But when they reached the gate" Of tripled brass — which hardly fivescore men Served to unbar and open — lo 1 the doors \Rolled back all silently, though one might hear > B daytime two kos off the thunderous roar Of those grim hinges and unwieldy plates. ^ifso the middle and the outer gates Unfolded each their monstrous portals thus In silence as Siddartha and his steed Drew near ; while underneath their shadow lay, Silent as dead men, all those chosen guards — The lance and sword let fall, the shields unbraced, *-"aptains and soldiers — for there came a wind, Urowsier than blows o'er Mahva's'* fields of sleep, riefore the Prince's path, which, being breathed, Lulled every sense aswoon : and so he passed Free from the palace. BOOK THK FOl'RTH. When the morning star Stood half a spear's length from the eastern rim, And o'er the earth the breath of morning sighed Rippling Anoma's wave," the border-stream, Tlien drew he rein, and leaped to earth and kissed White Kantaka betwixt the ears, and spake lull sweet to Channa:*" "Tliis which thou hast done Shall bring thee good and bring all creatures good. I'.o sure I love thee always for thy love. Lead back my horse and take my crest-pearl here, My princely robes, which henceforth stead me not, My jeweled sword-belt and my sword, and these riie long locks by its bright edge severed thus 1 rom off my brows. Give the King all, and say SiJdartha prays forget him till he come 1 on times a Prince, with royal wisdom won 1 rom lonely searchings and the strife for light ; A nere, if I conquer, lo ! al! earth is mine — I ine by chief service ! — tell him — mine by love ! --nee there is hope for man only in man, And none hath sought for this as I will seek, vWho cast away my world to save my world." Book tl)e iTiftl). Round Rdjdgriha' five fair hills arose, Guarding King Bimbsara's sylvan town: Baibhara,'' green with lemon-grass and palms; Bipulla, at whose foot thin Sarsuti' Steals with warm ripple; shadowy Tapovan,* Whose steaming pools mirror black rocks, which ooze Sovereign earth-butter^ from their rugged roofs ; South-east the vulture-peak Sailagiri ;* And eastward Ratnagiri, hill of gems. A winding track, paven with foot-worn slabs. Leads thee by safflower fields and bamboo tufts Under dark mangoes and the jujube-trees,' Past milk-white veins of rock and jasper crags, Low cliff and flats of jungle-flowers, to where The shoulder of that mountain, sloping west, O'erhangs a cave with wild figs canopied. Lo ! thou who comest thither, bare thy feet And bow thy head ! for all this spacious earth Hath not a spot more dear and hallowed. Here Lord Buddha sate* the scorching summers through, The driving rains, the chilly dawns and eves ; Wearing for all men's sakes the yellow robe, t^OOK THE HKlHi Eating in beggar's guise the scanty meal Chance-gathered from the charitable ; at night Couched on the grass, liomeless, alone ; while yelped The sleepless jackals round his cave, or coughs Of famished tiger from the thicket broke. By day and night here dwelt the World-honored, Subduing that fair body born for bliss With fast and frequent watch and search intense Of silent meditation, so prolonged That ofttimes while he mused — as motionless As the fixed rock his seat — the squirrel leaped Upon his knee, the timid quail led forth Her brood between his feet, and blue doves pecked The rice-grains from the bowl beside his hand. Thus would he muse from noontide' — when the land Shimmered with heat, and walls and temples danced In the reeking air — till sunset, noting not The blazing globe roll down, nor evening glide. Purple and swift, across the softened fields ; Nor the still coming of the stars, nor throb Of drum-skins in the busy town, nor screech Of owl and night-jar ; wholly wrapt from self ^ In keen unraveling of the threads of thought ^ And steadfast pacing of life's labyrinths. Thus would he sit till midnight hushed the world, Save where the beasts of darkness in the brake Crept and cried out, as fear and hatred cry, As lust and avarice and anger creep In the black jungles of man's ignorance. Then slept he for what space the fleet moon ask» 83 THE LIGHT OF ASIA, To swim a tenth part of her cloudy sea; But rose ere the False-dawn,'" and stood again Wistful on some dark platform of his hill, Watching the sleeping earth with ardent eyes And thoughts embracing all its living things, While o'er the waving fields that murmur move Which is the kiss of Morn waking the lands, And in the east that miracle of Day Gathered and grew. At first a dusk so dim Night seems still unaware of whispered dawn, But soon — before the jungle-cock crows twice — A white verge clear, a widening, brightening white. High as the herald-star, which fades in floods Of silver, warming into pale gold, caught By topmost clouds, and flaming on their rims To fervent golden glow, flushed from the brink With saffron, scarlet, crimson, amethyst ; Whereat the sky burns splendid to the blue, And, robed in raiment of glad light, the King Of Life and Glory cometh !" Then our Lord, After the manner of a Rishi, hailed The rising orb,'" and went — ablutions made — Down by the winding path unto the town ; And in the fashion of a Rishi passec^ From street to street, with begging-bowl in hand. Gathering the little pittance of his needs. Soon was it filled, for all the townsmen cried, " Take of our store, great sir ! " and " Take of ours ! ' Marking his godlike face and eyes enwrapt ; And mothers, when they saw our Lord go by, BOOK THE FIFTH. J Would bid their children fall to kiss his feet, And lift his robe's hem to their brows, or run To fill his jar, and fetch him milk and cakes. And ofttimes as he paced, gentle and slow, Radiant with heavenly pity, lost in care For those he knew not, save as fellow-lives, The dark surprised eyes of some Indian maid Would dwell in sudden love and worship deep On that majestic form, as if she saw Her dreams of tenderest thought made true, and grace Fairer than mortal fire her breast. But he Passed onward with the bowl and yellow robe, By mild speech paying; all those gifts of hearts, Wending his way back to the solitudes To sit upon his hill with holy men, And hear and ask of wisdom and its roads. Midway on Ratnagiri's groves of calm. Beyond the city, but below the caves. Lodged such as hold the body foe to soul, And flesh a beast which men must chain and tame Willi bitter pains, till sense of pain is killed, And tortured nerves vex torturer no more — Yogis" and Brahmachdris," Bhikshus," all A gaunt and mournful band," dwelling apart. Some day and night had stood with lifted arms. Till — drained of blood and withered by disease — Their slowly-wasting joints and stiffened limbs Jutted from sapless shoulders like dead forks From forest trunks. Others had clinched their hands So long and with so fierce a fortitude, 84 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. The claw-like nails grew through the festered palm. Some walked on sandals spiked ; some with sharp flints Gashed breast and brow and thigh, scarred these with fire, Threaded their flesh witli jungle thorns and spits, Besmeared with mud and ashes, crouching foul In rags of dead men wrapped about their Igins. Certain there were inhabited the spots Where death-pyres smouldered, cowering defiled With corpses for their company, and kites Screaming around them o'er the funeral-spoils : Certain who cried five hundred times a day The names of Shiva, wound with darting snakes About their sun-tanned necks and hollow flanks One palsied foot drawn up against the ham. So gathered they, a grievous company ; Crowns blistered by the blazing heat, eyes bleared. Sinews and muscles shriveled, visages Haggard and wan as slain men's, five days dead ; Here crouched one in the dust who noon by noon Meted a thousand grains of millet out, Ate it with famished patience, seed by seed. And so starved on ; there one who bruised his pulse With bitter leaves lest palate should be pleased ; And next, a miserable saint self-maimed, Eyeless and tongueless, sexless, crippled, deaf ; The body by the mind being thus stripped For glory of much suffering, and the bliss Which they shall win — say holy books — whose woe Shames gods that send us woe, and makes men gods Stronger to suffer than Hell is to harm. BOOK THE FIFTH. 85 Whom sadly eying spake our Lord to one, Chief of the woe-begones : "Much-suffering sir! These many moons I dwell upon the hill — Who am a seeker of the Truth — and see My brothers here, and thee, so piteously Self-anguished ; wherefore add ye ills to life Which is so evil ? " Answer made the sage : Tis written if a man shall mortify His flesh, till pain be grown the life he lives And death voluptuous rest, such woes shall purge Sin's dross away, and the soul, purified, Soar from the furnace of its sorrow, winged For glorious spheres and splendor past all thought." " Yon cloud which floats in heaven," the Prince replied, " Wreathed like gold cloth around your Indrd's throne, Rose thither from the tempest-driven sea ; Rut it must fall again in tearful drops. Trickling through rough and painful water-ways By cleft and nullah and the muddy flood, To Gunga and the sea, wherefrom it sprang. Rnow'st thou, my brother, if it be not thus, .Vfter their many pains, with saints in bliss? Since that which rises falls, and that which buys Is spent ; and if ye buy heav'n with your blood In hell's hard market, when the bargain's through The toil begins again ! " " It may begin," The hermit moaned. " Alas ! we know not this. 86 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Nor surely anything ; yet after night I Day comes, and after turmoil peace, and we Hate this accursed flesh which clogs the soul I That fain would rise ; so, for the sake of soul. We stake brief agonies in game with Gods To gain the larger joys." " Yet if they last A myriad years," he said, " they fade at length, Those joys ; or if not, is there then some life Below, above, beyond, so unlike life It will not change ? Speak ! do your Gods endure Forever, brothers ? " " Nay," tlie Yogis said, " Only great Brahm endures : the Gods but live."" Then spake Lord Buddha : " Will ye, being wise. As ye seem holy and strong-hearted ones. Throw these sore dice, which are your groans and moans, For gains which may be dreams, and must have end » AVill ye, for love of soul, so loathe your flesh. So scourge and maim it, that it shall not serve To bear the spirit on, searching for home, But founder on the track before nightfall, Like willing steed o'er-spurred ? Will ye, sad sirs Dismantle and dismember this fair house. Where we have come to dwell by painful pasts ;. Whose windows give us light — the little light — Whereby we gaze abroad to know if dawn Will break, and whither winds the better road?'" BOOK THE FIFTH. Then cried they, " We hav^ chosen this for road And tread it, Rdjdputra," till the close — Though all its stones were fire — in trust of death. Speak, if thou know'st a way more excellent ; If not, peace go with thee ! " Onward he passed, ^ Exceeding sorrowful, seeing how men Fear so to die they are afraid to fear, lust so to live they dare not love their life, "Tiut plague it with fierce penances, belike To please the Gods who grudge pleasure to man ; Belike to balk hell by self-kindled hells : Belike in holy madness, hoping soul May break the better through their wasted flesh. " Oh, florets of the field ! " Siddartha said, " Who turn your tender faces to the sun — Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath Of fragrance and these robes of reverence donned Silver and gold and purple — none of ye Miss perfect living, none of ye desiX)il Your happy beauty. Oh, ye palms ! which rise Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind Blown from Malaya" and the cool blue seas. What secret know ye that ye grow content. From time of tender shoot to time of fruit. Murmuring such sun-songs from your feathered crowns . Ye, too, who dwell so merry in the trees — Quick-darting parrots, bee-birds, bulbuls, doves — None of ye hate your life, none of ye deem To strain to better by foregoing needs ! 88 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. But man, who slays ye — being lord — is wise, And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thus forth In self-tormentings ! " While the Master spake Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet, White goats and black sheep winding slow their way, With many a lingering nibble at the tufts. And wanderings from the path, where water gleamed Or wild figs hung. But always as they strayed The herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and kept The silly crowd still moving to the plain. A ewe with couplets in the flock there was. Some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled behind Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped. And the vexed dam hither and thither ran, Fearful to lose this little one or that ; Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly He took the limping lamb upon his neck. Saying, " Poor woolly mother, be at peace ! Whither thou goest I will bear thy care ; 'Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief . As sit and watch the sorrows of the world In yonder caverns with the priests who pray." " But," spake he to the herdsmen, " wherefore, friend; Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon. Since 'tis at evening that men fold their sheep ? " And answer gave the peasants : " We are sent To fetch a sacrifice of goats five-score, And five-score sheep, the which our Lord the King Slayeth this night in worship of his gods." BOOK THE FIFTH. Then said the Master : " I will also go ! " So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun, The wistful ewe low bleating at his feet. Whom, when they came unto the river-side, A woman — dove-eyed, young, with tearful face And lifted hands — saluted, bending low : " Lord ! thou art he," she said, " who yesterday Had pity on me in the fi^-grove here, Where I live lone and reared my child ; but he Straying amid the blossoms found a snake. Which twined about his wrist, whilst he did laugh And tease the quick forked tongue and opened moutli Of that cold playmate. But, alas ! ere long He turned so pale and still, I could not think Wliy he should cease to play, and let my breast Fall from his lips. And one said, ' He is sick Of poison ; ' and another, ' He will die.' But I, who could not lose my precious boy, Prayed of them physic, which might bring the light Back to his eyes ; it was so very small That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think It could not hate him, gracious as he was. Nor hurt him in his sport. And some one said, ' There is a holy man upon the hill—; Lo ! now he passeth in the yellow robe — Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure For that which ails thy son.' Whereon I came Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god's, .\nd wept and drew the face-cloth from my babe, 90 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Praying thee tell what simples might be good. And thou, great sir ! didst spurn me not, but gaze With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand ; Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me, ' Yea ! little sister, there is that might heal Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the thing ; For they who seek physicians bring to them What is ordained. Therefore, I pray thee, find Black mustard-seed, a tola ;'° only mark Thou take it not from any hand or house Where father, mother, child, or slave hath died ; It shall be well if thou canst find such seed.' Thus didst thou speak, my Lord ! " The Master smiled Exceeding tenderly. " Yea ! I spake thus. Dear Kisagotami ! But didst thou find The seed ? " " I went. Lord, clasping to my breast The babe, grown colder, asking at each hut — Here in the jungle and towards the town — ' I pray you, give me mustard, of your grace, A tola — black ; ' and each who had it gave. For all the poor are piteous to the poor ; But when I asked, ' In my friend's household here Hath any peradventure ever died — Husband, or wife, or jchild, or slave ? ' they said : ' O Sister ! what is this you ask ? the dead Are very many, and the living few ! ' So with sad thanks I gave the mustard back, And prayed of others ; but the others said, 'Here is the seed, but we have lost our slave ! ' BOOK THE FIFTH. ' Here is the seed, but our good man is dead ! ' ' Here is some seed, but he that sowed it died Between the rain-time and the harvesting ! ' Ah, sir ! I could not find a single house Where there was mustard-seed and none had died I Therefore I left my child — who would not suck Nor smile — beneath the wild-vines by the stream, To seek thy face and kiss thy feet, and pray Where I might find this seed and find no death, If now, indeed, my baby be not dead. As I do fear, and as they said to me." " My sister ! thou hast found," the Master said, " Searching for what none finds — that bitter balm I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept Dead on thy bosom yesterday : to-day Thou know'st the whole wide world weeps with thy w \The grief which all hearts share grows less for one. \ I.o ! I would pour my blood if it could stay Thy tears and win the secret of that curse Which makes sweet love our anguish, and which drive? O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice — As these dumb beasts are driven — men their lords. I seek that secret : bury thou thy child ! " So entered they the city side by side, The herdsman and the Prince, what time the sun Gilded slow Sona's distant stream," and threw Long shadows down the street and through the gate Where the King's men kept watch. But when these sa Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood back, 92 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. The market-people drew their wains aside, In the bazar buyers and sellers stayed The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face ; The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand, Forgot to strike ; the weaver left his web, The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost His count of cowries ;" from the unwatched rice Shiva's white bull fed free f^ the wasted milk Ran o'er the lota'" while the milkers watched The passage of our Lord moving so meek, With yet so beautiful a majesty. But most the women gathering in the doors Asked, " WJio is this that brings the sacrifice So graceful and peace-giving as he goes ? What is his caste ? whence hath he eyes so sweet ? Can he be Sakra " or the Devaraj ? " '* And others said, " It is the holy man Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill." But the Lord paced, in meditation lost, Thinking, " Alas ! for all my sheep which have No shepherd ; wandering in the night with none To guide them ; bleating blindly towards the knife Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are their kin. Then some one told the King, "There cometh lie A holy hermit, bringing down the flock Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice." The King stood in his hall of offering, On either hand the white-robed Brahmins ranged Muttered their mantras," feeding still the fire BOOK THE FIFTH. 9 Which roared upon the midmost altar. Tliere From scented woods flickered bright tongues of fl.nnio, Hissing .ind curling as they licked the gifts Of ghee" and spices and the Soma juice," The joy of Indrd. Round about the pile A slow, thick, scarlet streamlet smoked and ran, Sucked by the sand, but ever rolling down, The blood of bleating victims. One such lay, A spotted goat, long-horned, its head bound back Witfi munjd grass ;* at its stretched throat the knife Pressed by a jjriest, who murmured, "This, dread godv Of many yajnas" cometh as the crown From Bimbsara :"take ye joy to see The spirted blood, and pleasure in the scent Of rich flesh roasting 'mid the fragrant flames ; Let the King's sins be laid upon this goat. And let the fire consume them burning it, For now I strike." But Buddha softly said," " Let him not strike, great King ! " and therewith loo- The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great His presence was. Then, craving leave, he spake VjOf life, which all can take but none can give, Life, which all creatures love and strive to "keep, Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each. Even to the meanest ; yea, a boon to all Where pity is, for pity makes the world Soft to the weak and noble for the strong. Unto the dumb lips of his flock he lent Sad pleading words, showing how man, who prays For mercy to the gods, is merciless. 94 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Being as god to those ; albeit all life / Is linked and kin, and what we slay have given Meek tribute of the milk and wool, and set Fast trust upon the hands which murder them. Also he spake of what the holy books iDo surely teach, how that at death some sink JTo bird and beast, and these rise up to man jIn wanderings of the spark which grows purged flame. So were the sacrifice new sin, if so The fated passage of a soul be stayed. Nor, spake he, shall one wash his spirit clean By blood ; nor gladden gods, being good, with blood ; Nor bribe them, being evil ; nay, nor lay Upon the brow of innocent bound beasts One hair's weight of that answer all must give For all things done amiss or wrongfully, • Alone, each for himself, reckoning with that The fixed arithmic of the universe. Which meteth good for good and ill for ill. Measure for measure, unto deeds, words, thoughts ; Watchful, aware, implacable, unmoved ; Making all futures fruits of all the pasts. Thus spake he, breathing words so piteous With such high lordliness of ruth and right, The priests drew back their garments o'er the hands Crimsoned with slaughter, and the King came near, Standing with clasped palms reverencing Buddh ; While still our Lord went on, teaching how fair This earth were if all living things be linked In friendliness and common use of foods. Bloodless and pure ; the golden grain, bright fruits, BOOK THE FIFTH. Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan, Sufficient drinks and meats. Which when these hcai The might of gentleness so conquered them, The priests themselves scattered their altar flames And flung away the steel of sacrifice ; And througn the land next day passed a decree Proclaimed by criers, and in this wise graved On rock and column : " Thus the King's will is :— There hath been slaughter for the sacrifice And slaying for the meat, but henceforth none Shall spill the blood of life nor taste of flesh, Seeing that knowledge grows, and life is one, A^d mercy cometh to the merciful." So ran the edict, and from those days forth Sweet peace hath spread between all living kind, Man and the beasts which serve him, and the binis, On all those banks of Gunga where our Lord V Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech. I For aye so piteous was the Master's heart To all that breathe this breath of fleeting life, Yoked in one fellowship of joys and pains, That it is written in the holy books How, in an ancient age — when Buddha wore A Brdhmin's form, dwelling upon the rock Named Munda, by the village of Dalidd — Drought withered all the land : the young rice died Ere it could hide a quail ; in forest glades \ tierce sun sucked the pools ; grasses and herbs kened, and all the woodland creatures fled nc.nttering for sustenance. At such a time, g6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Between the hot walls of a nullah, stretched On naked stones, our Lord spied, as he passed, A starving tigress. Hunger in her orbs Glared with green flame ; her dry tongue lolled a span Beyond the gasping jaws and shriveled jowl ; Her painted hide hung wrinkled on her ribs, As when between the rafters sinks a thatch Rotten with rains ; and at the poor lean dugs Two cubs, whining with famine, tugged and sucked, Mumbling those milkless teats which rendered nought While she, their gaunt dam, licked full motherly The clamorous twins, yielding her flank to them With moaning throat, and love stronger than want, , Softening the first of that wild cry wherewith She laid her famished muzzle to the sand And roared a savage thunder-peal of woe. Seeing which bitter strait, and heeding nought Save the immense compassion of a Buddh, Our Lord bethought, " There is no other way To help this murderess of the woods but one. By sunset these will die, having no meat : There is no living heart will pity her. Bloody with ravin, lean for lack of blood. Lo ! if I feed her, who shall losebut I, And how can love lose doing of its kind Even to the uttermost ? " So saying, Buddh Silently laid aside sandals and staff, His sacred thread," turban, and cloth, and came Forth from behind the milk-bush on the sand, Saying, " Ho ! mother, here is meat for thee ! " Whereat the perishing beast yelped hoarse and shrill. BOOK THE FIFTH. Sprang from her cubs, and, hurling to the earth That willing victim, had her feast of him With all the crooked daggers of her claws Rending his flesh, and all her yellow fangs Bathed in his blood : the great cat's burning breath Mixed with the last sigh of such fearless love. Thus large the Master's heart was long ago, Not only now, when with his gracious ruth He bade cease cruel worship of the Gods. And much King Bimbsdra prayed our Lord — Learning his royal birth and holy search — To tarry in that city, saying oft, " Thy princely state may not abide such fasts ; Thy hands were made for scepters, not for alms. Sojourn with me, who have no son to rule. And teach my kingdom wisdom, till I die. Lodged in my palace with a beauteous bride." But ever spake Siddartha, of set mind, "These things I had, most noble King, and left, Seeking the Truth ; which still I seek, and shall ; Not to be stayed though Sakra's" palace ope'd Its doors of pearl and Devis" wooed me in. I go to build the Kingdom of the Law, ** Journeying to Gdya and the forest shades. Where, as I think, the light will come to me ; For nowise here among the Rishts comes That light, nor from the Shastcrs," nor from fasts Borne till the body faints, starved by the soul. Yet there is light to reach and truth to win ; 98 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. And surely, O true Friend, if I attain I will return and quit thy love." Thereat Thrice round the Prince King Bimbsira paced, Reverently bending to the Master's feet. And bade him speed. So passed our Lord away Towards Uravilva,** not yet comforted. And wan of face, and weak with six years' quest. But they upon the hill and in the grove — Alira, Udra, and the ascetics five — Had stayed him, saying all was written clear In holy Shasters, and that none might win Higher than Sruti"^ and than Si>tnti^ — nay. Not the chief saints ! — for how should mortal man Be wiser than the Jnana-Kand,'" which tells How Brahm is bodiless and actionless, , Passionless, calm, unqualified, unchanged, ' Pure life, pure thought, pure joy ? Or how should man Be better than the Karmma-Kand,'*' which shows How he may strip passion and action off, Break from the bond of self, and so, unsphered, Be God, and melt into the vast divine, Flying from false to true, from wars of sense To peace eternal, where the silence lives ? But the Prince heard them, not j'et comforted. Book the Sixth. Thou who wouldst see where dawned the light at last, North-westwards from the "Thousand Gardens'" go By Gunga's valley till thy steps be set On the green hills where those twin streamlets spring Nilajan and Mohdna ; follow them, Winding beneath broad-leaved mahua-trees,' 'Mid thickets of the sansdr^ and the bir/ Till on the plain the shining sisters meet In PhalgQ's bed, flowing by rocky banks To Gdya and the red Barabar hills.' Hard by that river spreads a thorny waste, Uruwcla named in ancient days, With sandhills broken ; on its verge a wood Waves sea-green plumes and tassels 'thwart the sky. With undergrowth wherethrough a still flood steals. Dappled with lotus-blossoms, blue and while, And peopled with quick fish and tortoises. Near it the village of Senani* reared Its roofs of grass, nestled amid the palms, Peaceful with simple folk and pastoral toils. There in the sylvan solitudes once more Lord Buddha lived, musing the woes of men, 99 lOO THE LIGHT OF ASIA. The ways of fate, the doctrines of the books, The lessons of the creatures of the brake. The secrets of the silence whence all come, The secrets of the gloom whereto all go, The life which lies between, like that arch flung From cloud to cloud across the sky, which hath Mists for its masonry and vapory piers. Melting to void again which was so fair With sapphire hues, garnet, and chr}-soprase. Moon after moon our Lord sate in the wood, So meditating these that he forgot Ofttimes the hour of food, rising from thoughts Prolonged beyond the sunrise and the noon To see his bowl unfilled, and eat perforce Of wild fruit fallen from the boughs o'erhead, Shaken to earth by chattering ape or plucked By purple paroquet. Therefore his grace Faded ; his body, worn by stress of soul, Lost day by day the marks, thirty and two,' Which testify the Buddha. Scarce that leaf, Fluttering so dry and withered to his feet From off the sal-branch,* bore less likeliness Of spring's soft greenery than he of him Who was the princely flower of all his land. And once at such a time the o'erwrought Prince Fell to the earth in deadly swoon, all spent, Even as one slain, who hath no longer breath Nor any stir of blood ; so wan he was, So motionless. But there came by that way A shepherd-boy, who saw Siddartha lie BOOK THE SIXTH. With lids fast-closed, and lines of nameless pain Fixed on his lips — the fiery noonday sun Beating upon his head — who, plucking boughs From wild rose-apple trees, knitted them thick Into a bower to shade the sacred fa,c(;. Also he poured upon the Mastci's lip? Drops of warm milk, pressed from his. sha- goal's Lag, Lejt, being of low caste, he do wrong to one So high and holy seeming. But the books Tell how the jambu-branches,' planted thus, Sliot with quick life in wealth of leaf and flower And glowing fuiitage interlaced and close, So that the bower grew like a tent of silk Pitched for a king at hunting, decked with studs Of silver-work and bosses of red gold And the boy worshiped, deeming him some God ; But our Lord gaining breath, arose and asked Milk in the shepherd's lota.'" " Ah, my Lord, 1 cannot give thee," quoth the lad ; " thou seest I am a Sudra, and my touch defiles ! " " Then the World-honored spake : " Pity and need Make all flesh kin. There is no caste in blood, Which runneth of one hue, nor caste in tears. Which trickle salt with all ; neither comes man To birth with tilka-mark" stamped on the brow. Nor sacred thread on neck. Who doth right deeds Is twice-born, and who doeth ill deeds vile. Give me to drink, my brother ; when I come Unto my quest it shall be good for thee." Thereat the peasant's heart was glad, and gave. 102 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. And on another day there passed that road A band of tinseled girls, the nautch-dancers Of Indrd's temple" in the town, with those Who made their music — one that beat a drum Set round withpeacock-feathers, one that blew The pifMrig b^nsuli," and one that twitched A three-string sitar.'' 'Lightly tripped they down From ledge to ledge and through the chequered patl^ To some gay festival, the silver bells Chiming soft peals about the small brown feet, Armlets and wrist-rings tattling answer shrill ; While he that bore the sitar thrummed and twanged His threads of brass, and she beside him sang — " Fair goes the dancing when the sitdr's tuned ; Tune us the sitdr neither low nor high. And we will dance away the hearts of men. The string o'erstretc/ied breaks, and tJie music flies ; The string derslack is dumb, and music dies ; Tune us the sitdr tieither low nor high." So sang the nautch-girl to the pipe and wires, Fluttering like some vain, painted butterfly From glade to glade along the forest path, Nor dreamed her light words echoed on the ear Of him, that holy man, who sate so rapt Under the fig-tree by the path. But Buddh Lifted his great brow as the wantons passed. And spake : " The foolish ofttimes teach the wise ; I strain too much this string of life, belike. BOOK THE SIXTH. Meaning to make such music as shall save. Mine eyes are dim now that they see the truth, My strength is waned now that my need is most ; Would that I had such help as man must have, For I shall die, whose life was all men's hope." Now, by that river dwelt a landholder Pious and rich, master of many herds, A goodly chief, the friend of all the poor ; And from his house the village drew its name — " Sendni."'« Pleasant and in peace he lived, Having for wife Sujata," loveliest Of all the dark-eyed daughters of the plain ; Gentle and true, simple and kind was she. Noble of mien, with gracious speecli to all And gladsome looks — a pearl of womanhood — Passing calm years of household happiness Beside her lord in that still Indian home. Save that no male child blessed their wedded love. Wherefore with many prayers she had besought" Lakshmi ;" and many nights at full-moon gone Round the great Lingam," nine times nine, with gifts Of rice and jasmine wreaths and sandal oil, Praying a boy ; also Sujata vowed — If this should be — an offering of food Unto the Wood-God, plenteous, delicate, Set in a bowl of gold under his tree. Such as the lips of Dcvs" may taste and take. And this had been : for there was born to her A beauteous boy, now three months old, who lay Between Sujata's breasts, while she did pace 104 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. With grateful footsteps to the Wood-God's shrine, One arm clasping her crimson sari'* close To wrap the babe, that jewel of her joys, The other lifted high in comely curve To steady on her head the bowl and dish Which held the dainty victuals for the God. But Radhd, sent before to sweep the ground And tie the scarlet threads around the tree,-^ Came eager, crjnng, "Ah, dear Mistress ! look ! There is the Wood-God sitting in his place, Revealed, with folded hands upon his knees. See how the light shines round about his brow ! How mild and great he seems, with heavenly eyes ! Good fortune is it thus to meet the gods." So— thinking him divine,^Sujata drew Tremblingly nigh, and kissed the earth and said, With sweet face bent, " Would that the Holy One Inhabiting this grove. Giver of good Merciful unto me his handmaiden Vouchsafing now his presence, might accept These our poor gifts of snowy curds, fresh-made. With milk as white as new-carved ivory ! " Therewith into the golden bowl she poured The curds and milk, and on the hands of Buddh Dropped attar from a crystal flask — distilled Out of the hearts of roses : and he ate, Speaking no word, while the glad mother stood In reverence apart. But of that meal BOOK THF. SIXTH. So wondrous was the virtue that our Lord Felt strength and life return as though the nights Of watching and the days of fast had passed In dream, as though the spirit with the flesh Shared that fine meat and ]ilumcd its wings anew, Like some delighted bird at sudden streams Weary with flight o'er endless wastes of sand, Which laves the desert dust from neck and crest. And more Sujata worshiped, seeing our Lord Grow fairer and his countenance more bright : " Art thou indeed the God ? " she lowly asked, " And hath my gift found favor ? " But Buddh said, " What is it thou dost bring me ? " " Holy one ! " Answered SujAta, " from our droves I took Milk of a hundred mothers, newly-calved, And with that milk I fed fifty white cows, And with their milk twenty and five, and then With theirs twelve more, and yet again with theirs The six noblest and best of all our herds. That yield I boiled with sandal and fine spice In silver lotds,** adding rice, well grown 1 rom chosen seed, set in new-broken ground, So picked that every grain was like a pearl. I'his did I of true iieart, because I vowed Under thy tree, if I should bear a boy I would make offering for my joy, and now I have my son and all my life is bliss ! " Softly our Lord drew down the crimson fold, And, laying on the little head those hands lOO THE LIGHT OF ASIA. Which help the worlds, he said, " Long be thy bliss And lightly fall on him the load of life ! i For thou hast holpen me who am no God, But one, thy Brother ; heretofore a Prince And now a wanderer, seeking night and day These six hard years that light which somewhere sh To lighten all men's darkness, if they knew ! And I shall find the light ; yea, now it dawned Glorious and helpful, when my weak flesh failed Which this pure food, fair Sister, hath restored, Drawn manifold through lives to quicken life As life itself passes by many births To happier heights and purging off of sins. Yet dost thou truly find it sweet enough Only to live ? Can life and love suffice ? " Answered Sujdta, " Worshipful ! my heart fs little, and a little rain will fill The lily's cup which hardly moists the field. It is enough for me to feel life's sun Shine in my Lord's grace and ray baby's smile. Making the loving summer of our home. Pleasant my days pass filled with household cares From sunrise when I wake to praise the gods. And give forth grain, and trim the tulsi-plant,** And set my handmaids to their tasks, till noon, When my Lord lays his head upon my lap Lulled by soft songs and wavings of the fan ; And so to supper-time at quiet eve, When by his side I stand and serve the cakes."* Then the stars light their silver lamps for sleep. BOOK THE SIXTH. I< After the temple and the talk with friends. How should I not be happy, blest so much, And bearing him this boy whose tiny hand Shall lead his soul to Swerga," if it need ? For holy books teach when a man sluU plant Trees for the travelers' shade, and dig a well For the folks' comfort, and beget a son, It shall be good for such after their death ; And what the books say that I humbly take, Being not wiser than those great of old Who spake with gods, and knew the hymns and charms, And all the ways of virtue and of peace. Also I think that good must come of good And ill of evil — surely — unto all — In every ii'.ace and time — seeing sweet fruit Groweth from wholesome roots, and bitter things From poison-stocks ; yea, seeing, too, how spite Breeds hate, and kindness friends, and patience peace Even while we live ; and when 'tis willed we die Shall there not be as good a ' Then ' as ' Now ? *' I Haply much better ; since one grain of rice Shoots a green feather gemmed with fifty pearls. And all the starry champak's"* white and gold Lurks in those little, naked, gray spring-buds. .\h, Sir ! I know there might be woes to bear Would lay fond Patience witli her face in dust ; If this my babe pass first I think my heart Would break — almost I hope my heart would break ! That I might clasp him dead and wait my Lord — In whatsoever world holds faithful wives — Duteous, attending till his hour should come. I08 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. But if Death called Senani, I should mount The pile and lay that dear head in my lap,'^ My daily way, rejoicing when the torch Lit the quick flame and rolled the choking smoke. For it is written if an Indian wife Die so, her love shall give her husband's soul For every hair upon her head a cror™ Of years in Swerga. Therefore fear I not. And therefore, Holy Sir ! my life is glad, Nowise forgetting yet those other lives Painful and poor, wicked and miserable. Whereon the gods grant pity ! but for m° What good I see humbly I seek to do. And live obedient to the law, in trust That what will come, and must come, shall come well.' Then spake our Lord, " Thou teachest them who teach, Wiser than wisdom in thy simple lore. Be thou content to know not, knowing thus The way of right and duty : grow, thou flower ! With thy sweet kind in peaceful shade — the light Of Truth's high noon is not for tender leaves ; Which must spread broad in other suns and lift In later lives a crowned head to the sky. Thou who hast worshiped me, I worship thee ! Excellent heart ! learned unknowingly. As the dove is which flieth home by love. In thee is seen why there is hope for man And where we hold the wheel of life at will. Peace go with thee, and comfort all thy days ! As thou accomplishest, may I achieve ! He whom thou thoughtest God bids thee wish this." BOOK THE SIXTH. K " May'st thou achieve," she said, with earnest eyes Bent on her babe, who reached its tender hands To Buddh — icnowing, belike, as children know. More than we deem, and reverencing our Lord ; But he arose — made strong with that pure meat — And bent his footsteps where a great Tree grew, The Bodhi-tree" (thenceforward in all years Never to fade, and ever to be kept In homage of the world), beneath whose leaves It was ordained that Truth should come to Buddh : Which now the Master knew ; wherefore he went With measured pace, steadfast, majestical. Unto the Tree of Wisdom. Oh, ye Worlds ! Rejoice 1 our Lord wended unto the Tree ! Whom — as he passed into its ample shade, Cloistered with columned dropping stems, and roofed With vaults of glistening green — the conscious earth Worshiped with waving grass and sudden flush Of flowers about his feet. The forest-boughs Bent down to shade him ; from the river sighed Cool wafts of wind laden with lotus-scents Breathed by the water-gods. Large wondering eyes Of woodland creatures — panther^ boar, and deer — At peace that eve, gazed on his face benign From cave and thicket. Fronj its cold cleft wound The mottled deadly snake, dancing its hood In honor of our Lord ; bright butterflies Fluttered their vans, azure and green and gold. To be his fan-bearers ; the fierce kite dropped Its jirey and screamed ; the striped palm-sciuirrel raced no THE LIGHT OF ASIA. From stem to stem to see ; the weaver-bird Chirped from her swinging nest ; the lizard ran ; The koiP sang her hymn ; the doves flocked round : Even the creeping things were 'ware and glad. Voices of earth and air joined in one song,'^ Which unto ears that hear said, " Lord and Friend ! Lover and Savior ! Thou who hast subdued Angers and prides, desires and fears and doubts, .Thou that for each and all hast given thyself, /Pass to the Tree ! The sad world blesseth thee Who art the Buddh that shall assuage her woes. Pass, Hailed and Honored ! strive thy last for us. King and higli Conqueror ! thine hour is come ; This is the Night the ages waited for ! " Then fell the night even as our Master sate Under that Tree. But he who is the Prince Of Darkness, Mara^ — knowing this was Buddh Who should deliver men, and now the hour ■When he should find the Truth and save the worlds- Gave unto all his evil powers command. Wherefore there trooped from every deepest pit The fiends who war with Wisdom and the Light, Arati," Trishnd,^ Raga,^' and their crew Of passions, horrors, ignorances, lusts, The brood of gloom and dread ; all hating Buddh, Seeking to shake his mind ; nor knoweth one. Not even the wisest, how those fiends of Hell Battled that night to keep the Truth from Buddh : Sometimes with terrors of the tempest, blasts Of demon-armies clouding all the wind. BOOK THE SIXTH. With thunder, and wkh blinding lightning flung In jagged javelins of purple wrath From" splitting skies ; sometimes with wiles and words Fair-sounding, 'mid hushed leaves and softened airs From shapes of witching beauty; wanton songs, Whispers of love ; sometimes with royal allures Of proffered rule ; sometimes with mocking doubts, Making truth vain. But whether these befell Without and visible, or whether Buddh Strove with fell spirits in his inmost heart, Judge ye :— I write what ancient books have writ. The ten chief Sins came— Mara's mighty ones, Angels of evil— Attavdda first, ^he Sin of Self, who in the Universe As in a"TiiTrror sees her fond face shown. And crying " I " would have the world say "I," And all things perish so if she endure. " If thou be'st Buddh." she said, " let others grope Lightless ; it is enough that thou art Thou Changelessly ; rise and take the bliss of gods Who change not, heed not, strive not." But Buddh spake " The right in thee is base, the wrong a curse ; ^ Cheat such as love themselves." Then came wan Doubt He that denies— the mocking Sin— and this Hissed in the Master's ear, " All things are shows, And vain the knowledge of their vanity ; Tl>ou dost but chase the shadow of thyself ', Rise and go hence, there is no better way Than patient scorn, nor any help for man, Nor any staying of his whirling wheel." 112 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. But quoth our Lord, " Thou hast no part with me, False Visikitcha, subtlest of man's foes." And third came she who gives dark creeds their power, Silabbat-paramisa, sorceress, Dra£ed_fair in many lands aslowly Faithj^ But ever juggHfig souls with rites and prayers ; The keeper of those keys which lock up Hells And open Heavens. " Wilt thou dare," she said, " Put by our sacred books, dethrone our gods. Unpeople all the temples, shaking down That law which feeds the priests and props the realms ? ' But Buddha answered, " What thou bidd'st me keeo Is form which passes, but the free Truth stands ; Get thee unto thy darkness." Next there drew Gallantly nigh a braver Tempter, he, Kdma,^ the_King of passions, who hath sway Over the gods thernseR-es, Lord of all loves, Ruler of Pleasure's realm. Laughing he came Unto the Tree, bearing his bow of gold Wreathed with red blooms, and arrows of desire Pointed with five-tongued delicate flame which stings The heart it smites sharper than poisoned barb : And round him came into that lonely place Bands of bright shapes with heavenly eyes and lips Singing in lovely words the praise of Love To music of invisible sweet cords. So witching, that it seemed the night stood still To hear them, and the listening stars and moon Paused in their orbits while these hymned to Buddh Of lost delights, and how a mortal man Findeth nought dearer in the three wide worlds BOOK THE SIXTH. Than are the yielded loving fragrant breasts Of Beauty and the rosy breast-blossoms, Love's rubies ; nay, and toucheth nought more high Than is that dulcet harmony of form Seen in the lines and charms of loveliness Unspeakable, yet speaking, soul to soul, Owned by the bounding blood, worshiped by will Which leaps to seize it, knowing this is best, This the true heaven where mortals are like gods, Makers and Masters, this the gift of gifts Ever renewed and worth a thousand woes. For who hath grieved when soft arms shut him safe, And all life melted to a happy sigh, And all the world was given in one warm kiss ? So sang they with soft float of beckoning hands, Eyes lighted with love-flames, alluring smiles ; In dainty dance their supple sides and limbs Revealing and concealing like burst buds Which tell their color, but hide yet their hearts. Never so matchless grace delighted eye As troop by troop these midnight-dancers swept Nearer the Tree, each daintier than the last. Murmuring " O great Siddartha ! I am thine. Taste of my mouth and see if youth is sweet ! " Also, when nothing moved our Master's mind, Lo ! Kdma waved his magic bow, and lo ! The band of dancers opened, and a shape Fairest and stateliest of the throng came forth Wearing the guise of sweet Yasbdhara. Tender the passion of those dark eyes seemed Brimming with tears ; yearning those outspread arms 114 f"^ LIGHT OF ASIA. Opened towards him ; musical that moan Wherewith the beauteous shadow named his name, Sighing " My Prince ! I die for lack of thee ! What heaven hast thou found like that we knew By bright Rohini in the Pleasure-house, Where all these weary years I weep for thee ? Return, Siddartha ! ah ! return. But touch My lips again, but let me to thy breast Once, and these fruitless dreams will end ! Ah, look ! Am I not she thou lovedst ?" But Buddh said, " For that sweet sake of her thou playest thus. Fair and false Shadow ! is thy playing vain ; I curse thee not who wear'st a form so dear, •Yet as thou art so are all earthly shows. Melt to thy void again ! " Thereat a cry Thrilled through the grove, and all that comely rout Faded with flickering wafts of flame, and trail Of vaporous robes. Next under darkening skies And noise of rising storm came fiercer Sins, The rearmost of the Ten ; Patigha— Hate— With serpents coiled about her waist, wliiifh suck Poisonous milk from both her hanging dugs, And with her curses mix their angry hiss. Little wrought she upon that Holy One Who with his calm eyes dumbed her bitter lips And made her black snakes writhe to hide their fangs. Then followed Ruparaga — Lust of days — That sensual Sin which out of greed for life Forgets to live ; and next him Lust of Fame, Nobler Aruparaga, she whose spell BOOK THE SIXTH. 1 Beguiles the wise, mother of daring deeds, Battles and toils. And haughty Mano came, Tlie Fiend of Pride ; and smooth Self-Righteousness, Uddhachcha ; and — with many a hideous band Of vile and formless things, which crept and flapped Toad-like and bat-like — Ignorance, tlie Dam Of Fear and Wrong, Avidya, hideous hag, Whose footsteps left the midnight darker, while The rooted mountains shook, the wild winds howled, The broken clouds shed from their caverns strearris Of levin-lighted rain ; stars shot from heaven, The solid earth shuddered as if one laid Flame to her gaping wounds ; the torn black air Was full of whistling winds, of screams and yells, Of evil faces peering, of vast fronts Terrible and majestic. Lords of Hell Who from a thousand l.imbos led their troops To tempt the Master. But Buddh heeded not. Sitting serene, with perfect virtue walled As is a stronghold by its gates and ramps ; Also the Sacred Tree — the Bodiii-trce — Amid that tumult stirred not, but each leaf Glistened as still as when on moonlit eves No zephyr spills the glittering gems of dew ; For all this clamor raged outside the shade Spread by those cloistered stems : In tlie third watch, The earth being still, the hellish legions fled, A soft air breathing from the sinking moon. Our Lord attained Samma SambuJJfi;" he saw Il6 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. By light which shines beyond our mortal ken The line of all his lives in all the worlds, Far back and farther back and farthest yet, Five hundred lives and fifty. Even as one. At rest upon a mountain-summit, marks His path wind up by precipice and crag. Past thick-set woods shrunk to a patcl^ ; through bogs Glittering false-green ; down hollows where he toiled Breathless ; on dizzy ridges where his feet Had well-nigh slipped ; beyond the sunny lawns. The cataract and the cavern and the pool. Backward to those dim flats wherefrom he sprang To reach the blue ; tlws Buddha did behold Life's upward steps long-linked, from levels low Where breath is base, to higher slopes and higher Whereon the ten great Virtues* wait to lead The climber skyward. Also, Buddha saw I How new life reaps what the old life did sow : How where its march breaks off its march begins ; Holding the gain and answering for the loss ; And how in each life good begets more good, .Evil fresh evil ; Death but casting up Debit or credit, whereupon th' account In merits or demerits stamps itself By sure arithmic — where no tittle drops — Certain and just, on some new-springing life ; Wherein are packed and scored past thoughts and deeds. Strivings and triumphs, memories and marks Of lives foregone : And in the middle watch Our Lord attained Ab/iicfj/ia" — insight vast BOOK THE SIXTH. Ranging beyond this sphere to spheres unnamed,' System on system, countless worlds and suns Moving in splendid measures, band by band Linked in division, one yet separate, The silver islands of a sappliire sea Shoreless, unfathomed, undiminished, stirred With waves which roll in restless tides of chilnge^ He saw those Lords of Light who hold their worlds By bonds invisible, how they themselves Circle obedient round mightier orbs - Which serve profounder splendors, star to star Flashing the ceaseless radiance of life From centers ever shifting unto cirques' Knowing no uttermost. These he beheld With unsealed vision, and of all those worlds. Cycle on epicycle, all their tale ' , Of Kalpas, Maha-kalpas" — terms of time . Which no man grasps, yea, though he knew to count' The drops in Gunga from her springs to the sea. Measureless unto speech — whereby these wax And wane ; whereby each of this heavenly host. Fulfills its shining life and darkling dies. Sakwal by Sakwal,** depths and heights he passed 'Transported through the blue infinitudes, '< Marking — behind all modes, above all spheres, Beyond the burning impulse of each orb — That fixed decree at silent work which wills E'-olve the dark to light, the dead to life. To fullness void, to form the yet unformed, Good unto better, better unto best. By wordless edict ; having none to bid, Il8 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. None to forbid ; for this is past all gods I Immutable, unspeakable, supreme, A Power which builds, unbuilds, and builds again, Ruling all things accordant to the rule Of virtue, which is beauty, truth, and use. So that all things do well which serve the Power, And ill which hinder ; nay, the worm does well Obedient to its kind ; the hawk does well Which carries bleeding quarries to its young ; The dewdrop and the star shine sisterly. Globing together in the common work ; And man who lives to die, dies to live well So if he guide his ways by blamelessness And earnest will to hinder not. but help All things both great and small which suffer life. These did our Lord see in the middle watch. But when the fourth watch came the secret came Of Sorrow, which with evil mars the law. As damp and dross hold back the goldsmith's fire. Then was the Dukha-satya" opened him /First of the " Noble Truths ; "" how Sorrow is Shadow to life, moving where life doth move ; Not to be laid aside until one lays Living aside, with all its changing states, Birth, growth, decay, love, hatred, pleasure, pain. Being and doing. How that none strips off These sad delights and pleasant griefs who lacks Knowledge to know them snares ; but he who knows Avidya — Delusion — sets those snares, Loves life no longer but ensues escape. BOOK THE SI»%^ji_0xi^