THE 
 
 LIGHT OF ASIA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 The Great renunciation 
 
 (MAHABHINISHKRAMANA). 
 
 BEING 
 
 Zbc %itc an& ZcacbiwQ ot Gautamat 
 
 5V*rmce of ^nt>ia anh 3=ounber of SBubbl^ism 
 (as told in verse by an INDIAN BUDDHIST). 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HOME BOOK COMPANY 
 45 Vesey Street
 
 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 re- 
 former, 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 millions of our race live 
 and die in the tenets of Gautama; and the 
 spiritual dominions of this ancient teacher ex- 
 tend, at the present time, from Xepaul 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 
 
 2047365
 
 6 {preface. 
 
 of belief, for though the profession of Bud- 
 dhism has for the most part passed away from 
 the land of its birth, the mark of Gautama's 
 sublime teaching is stamped ineffaceably upon 
 modern Brahmanism, and the most character- 
 istic 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 religious ideas 
 to this illustrious prince, whose personality, 
 though imperfectly revealed in the existing 
 sources of information, 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 mis- 
 conceptions, the Buddhistical books yet agree in 
 the one point of recording 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. Barthelemy 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 tache. Son constant heroisme
 
 preface, 7 
 
 egale sa conviction ; et si la theorie qu'il pre- 
 conise est fausse, les exemples personnels 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 dementent point un seul instant. ... II 
 prepare silencieusement sa doctrine par six 
 annees de retraite et de meditation ; il la pro- 
 page par la seule puissance de la parole et de 
 la persuasion pendant plus d'un demi-siecle, 
 et quand il meurt entre les bras de ses dis- 
 ciples, 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 con- 
 quest of humanity ; and — though he discoun- 
 tenanced 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 fervent worship. Forests of 
 flowers are daily laid upon his stainless 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
 
 8 preface. 
 
 died about 543 b. 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 uni- 
 versal 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 inevitable degrada- 
 tion which priesthoods always inflict upon 
 great ideas committed to their charge. The 
 power and sublimity of Gautama's original 
 doctrines should be estimated by their influ- 
 ence, not by their interpreters ; nor by that 
 innocent but lazy and ceremonious church 
 which has arisen on the foundations of the 
 Buddhistic Brotherhood 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 mir- 
 acles which consecrate this record, nor the 
 philosophy which it embodies, could have been 
 otherwise so naturally reproduced. The doc- 
 trine of Transmigration, for instance — startling 
 to modern minds — was established and thor-
 
 Iprcface. 9 
 
 oughly accepted by the Hindus of Buddha's 
 time ; that period when Jerusalem was being 
 taken by Nebuchadnezzar, when Nineveh was 
 falling to the Medes, and Marseilles was 
 founded by the Phocaeans. The exposition 
 here offered of so antique a system is of neces- 
 sity incomplete, and — in obedience to the laws 
 of poetic art^passes rapidly by many matters 
 philosophically most important, as well as 
 over the long ministry of Gautama. But my 
 purpose has been obtained if any just concep- 
 tion 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 imperfect 
 Buddhistic citations much as they stand in 
 Spence Hardy's work, and have also modified 
 more than one passage in the received narra- 
 tives. 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.
 
 lo pretace. 
 
 Finally, in reverence to the illustrious Pro- 
 mulgator of this " Light of Asia," and in hom- 
 age 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 com- 
 posed 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. I. 
 
 London, /«/)/, 1879.
 
 THE LIGHT OF ASIA. 
 
 §o0h tht gix^t 
 
 TJie Scriptiwe of the Saviour of the Wo7-ld, 
 Lord Buddha — Prince Sidddrtha styled on 
 
 earth — 
 J71 Earth and Heave?is and Hells Incomparable^ 
 All honored. Wisest, Best, most Pitiful ; 
 TJie Teacher of Nirvd7ia 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 our sakes the five sure signs of birth
 
 12 ^be Xlgbt of Bsia. 
 
 So that the Devas knew the signs, and said 
 " Buddha will go again to help the World." 
 " Yea ! " spake He, " now I go to help the 
 
 World 
 This last of many times ; 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 from 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
 
 :©ooft tbe ffirst. 13 
 
 Passed the Queen's joy, as when warm sun- 
 shine 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 grey dream-readers said " The dream is 
 
 good ! 
 The Crab is in conjunction with the Sun ; 
 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 wdll deign to rule.'* 
 
 In this wise was the holy Buddha born. 
 
 Queen Maya stood at noon, her days fulfilled, 
 Under a Palsa in the Palace-grounds, 
 A stately trunk, straight as a temple-shaft. 
 With crown of glossy leaves and fragraut 
 blooms;
 
 14 ^be Xfflbt ot Bsia. 
 
 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 
 To spread a couch, while, ready for the bath, 
 The rock hard by gave out a limpid stream 
 Of crystal flow. So brought she forth her 
 
 child 
 Pangless — he having on his perfect form 
 The marks, thirty and two, of blessed birth ; 
 Of which the great news to the Palace came. 
 But when they brought the painted palanquin 
 To fetch him home, the bearers of the poles 
 Were the four Regents of the Earth, came 
 
 down 
 From Mount Sumeru — 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 Angel of the South, 
 Whose horsemen, the Kumbhandas, ride blue 
 
 steeds, 
 With sapphire shields : the Angel of the West, 
 By Nagas followed, riding steeds blood-red, 
 With coral shields : the Angel of the North,
 
 :lSool? tbe Jfirst. 15 
 
 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. 
 For which gifts looking with this wondrous boy,
 
 i6 " Q^bc Xiabt of Bsia. 
 
 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 
 That chime light laughter round their restless 
 
 feet; 
 The masquers wrapped in skins of bear and 
 
 deer. 
 The tiger-tamers, wrestlers, quail-fighters, 
 Beaters of drum and twanglers of the wire, 
 Who made the people happy by command. 
 Moreover from afar came merchant-men, 
 Bringing, on tidings of this birth, rich gifts 
 In golden trays ; goat-shawls, and nard and 
 
 jade, 
 Turkises, " evening-sky " tint, woven webs — 
 So fine twelve folds hide not a modest face — 
 Waist-cloths sewn thick with pearls, and 
 
 sandal-wood ; 
 Homage from tribute cities ; so they called 
 Their Prince Savarthasiddh, " All-Prospering," 
 Briefer, Siddartha.
 
 JBooft tbe mvsu 17 
 
 'Mongst the strangers came 
 A grey-haired saint, Asita, one whose ears, 
 Long closed to earthly things, caught heavenly 
 
 sounds. 
 And heard at prayer beneath his peepul-tree 
 The Devas singing songs at Buddha's birth. 
 Wondrous in lore he was by age and fasts ; 
 Him, drawing nigh, seeming so reverend, 
 The King saluted, and Queen Maya made 
 To lay her babe before such holy feet ; 
 But when he saw the Prince the old man 
 
 cried 
 *' Ah, Queen, not so ! " and thereupon he 
 
 touched 
 Eight times the dust, laid his waste visage 
 
 there. 
 Saying, " O Babe ! I worship ! Thou art He ! 
 I see the rosy light, the foot-sole marks, 
 The soft curled tendril of the Swastika, 
 The sacred primal signs thirty and two. 
 The eighty lesser tokens. Thou art Buddh, 
 And thou wilt preach the Law and save all 
 
 flesh 
 Who learn the Law, though I shall never hear, 
 Dying too soon, who lately longed to die ; 
 Howbeit I have seen Thee. Know, O King ! 
 This is that Blossom on our human tree
 
 i8 ^be Xigbt ot Bsia, 
 
 Which opens once in many myriad years — 
 But opened, fills the world with Wisdom's 
 
 scent 
 And Love's dropped honey ; from thy royal 
 
 root 
 A Heavenly Lotus springs : " Ah, happy 
 
 House ! 
 Yet not all-happy, for a sword must pierce 
 Thy bowels for this boy — whilst thou, sweet 
 
 Queen ! 
 Dear to all gods and men for this great birth, 
 Henceforth art grown too sacred for more woe, 
 And life is woe, therefore in seven days 
 Painless thou shalt attain the close of pain." 
 
 Which fell : for on the seventh evening 
 Queen Maya smiling slept, and waked no 
 
 more, 
 Passing content to Trayastrinshas-Heaven, 
 Where countless Devas worship her and wait 
 Attendant on that radiant Motherhead. 
 But for the Babe they found a foster-nurse. 
 Princess Mahtprajapati — her breast 
 Nourished with noble milk the lips of Him 
 Whose lips comfort the Worlds. 
 
 When th' eighth year passed 
 The careful King bethought to teach his son
 
 :©ooft tbe 3first. 19 
 
 All that a Prince should learn, for still he 
 
 shunned 
 The too vast presage of those miracles, 
 The glories and the sufferings of a Buddh. 
 So, in full council of his Ministers, 
 "Who is the wisest man, great sirs," he asked, 
 ^'To teach my Prince that which a Prince 
 
 should know ? 
 Whereto gave answer each with instant voice 
 *' King ! Viswamitra is the wisest one, 
 The farthest-seen in Scriptures, and the best 
 In learning, and the manual arts, and all." 
 Thus Viswamitra came and heard commands ; 
 And, on a day found fortunate, the Prince 
 Took up his slate of ox-red sandal-wood. 
 All-beautified by gems around the rim. 
 And sprinkled smooth with dust of emery. 
 These took he, and his writing-stick, and stood 
 With eyes bent down before the Sage, who 
 
 said, 
 *' Child, write this Scripture," speaking slow 
 
 the verse 
 " Gdyatri " named, which only High-born 
 
 hear : — 
 
 Om^ tatsaviticrvaren'yam 
 Bhargo devasya dhimahi 
 Dhiyo yd 7ia prachodayat.
 
 20 ^bc %iQbt ot Bsla. 
 
 " Acharya, I write," meekly replied 
 
 The Prince, and quickly on the dust he 
 
 drew — 
 Not in one script, but many characters — 
 The sacred verse ; Nagri and Dakshin, Ni, 
 Mangal, Parusha, Yava, Tirthi, Uk, 
 Darad, Sikhyani, Mana, Madhyachar, 
 The pictured writings and the speech of signs, 
 Tokens of cave-men and the sea-peoples. 
 Of those who worship snakes beneath the 
 
 earth. 
 And those who flame adore and the sun's orb, 
 The Magians and the dwellers on the mounds ; 
 Of all the nations all strange scripts he traced 
 One after other with his writing-stick, 
 Reading the master's verse in every tongue ; 
 And Viswamitra said, " It is enough, 
 Let us to numbers. 
 
 After me repeat 
 Your numeration till we reach the Lakh, 
 One, two, three, four, to ten, and then by tens 
 To hundreds, thousands." After him the 
 
 child 
 Named digits, decads, centuries ; nor paused, 
 The round lakh reached, but softly murmured 
 
 on 
 " Then comes the koti, nahut, ninnahut,
 
 JBooft tbe 3fir6t. 21 
 
 Khamba, viskhamba, abab, attata, 
 
 To kumuds, gundhikas, and utpalas, 
 
 By pundarikas unto padumas, 
 
 Which last is how you count the utmost grains 
 
 Of Hastagiri ground to finest dust ; 
 
 But beyond that a numeration is, 
 
 The Katha, used to count the stars at night ; 
 
 The Koti- Katha, for the ocean drops ; 
 
 Ingga, the calculus of circulars ; 
 
 Sarvanikchepa, by the which you deal 
 
 With all the sands of Gunga, till we come 
 
 To Antah-Kalpas, where the unit is 
 
 The sands of ten crore Gungas. If one seeks 
 
 More comprehensive scale, th' arithmic mounts 
 
 By the Asankya, which is the tale 
 
 Of all the drops that in ten thousand years 
 
 Would fall on all the worlds by daily rain ; 
 
 Thence unto Maha Kalpas, by the which 
 
 The Gods compute their future and their past.*' 
 
 " 'Tis good," the Sage rejoined, " Most noble 
 Prince, 
 If these thou know'st, needs it that I should 
 
 teach 
 The mensuration of the lineal ? " 
 Humbly the boy replied, " Acharya ! " 
 " Be pleased to hear me. Paramanus ten
 
 22 ^be %iQbi ot 2lsia» 
 
 A parasukshma make ; ten of those build 
 
 The trasarene, and seven trasarenes 
 
 One mote's-length floating in the beam, seven 
 
 motes 
 The whisker-point of mouse, and ten of these 
 One Hkhya ; likhyas ten a yuka, ten 
 Yukas a heart of barley, which is held 
 Seven times a wasp-waist ; so unto the grain 
 Of mung and mustard and the barley-corn. 
 Whereof ten give the finger-joint, twelve joints 
 The span, wherefrom we reach the cubit, staff, 
 Bow-length, lance-length ; while twenty lengths 
 
 of lance 
 Mete what is named a ' breath,' which is to say 
 Such space as man may stride wath lungs once 
 
 filled 
 Whereof a gow is forty, four times that 
 A yojana ; and. Master ! if it please, 
 I shall recite how many sun-motes lie 
 From end to end within a yojana." 
 Thereat, with instant skill, the little Prince 
 Pronounced the total of the atoms true. 
 But Viswamitra heard it on* his face 
 Prostrate before the boy ; " For thou," he 
 
 cried, 
 *** Art Teacher of thy teachers — thou, not I, 
 Art Guru. Oh, I worship thee, sweet Prince !
 
 :fi5ooft tbe ^ixsU 23 
 
 That comest to my school only to show 
 Thou knowest all without the books, and 
 
 know'st 
 Fair reverence besides." 
 
 Which reverence 
 Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters, . 
 Albeit beyond their learning taught ; in speech 
 Right gentle, yet so wise ; princely of mien, 
 Yet softly-mannered ; modest, deferent, 
 And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood ; 
 No bolder horseman in the youthful band 
 E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles ; 
 No keener driver of the chariot 
 In mimic contest scoured the Palace-courts ; 
 Yet in mid-play the boy would ofttimes pause, 
 Letting the deer pass free ; would ofttimes 
 
 yield 
 His half-won race because the laboring steeds 
 Fetched painful breath ; or if his princely 
 
 mates 
 Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream 
 Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the 
 
 years 
 Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord, 
 Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves 
 To spread its shade afar ; but hardly yet 
 Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or 
 
 tears,
 
 24 ^t)e XlQbt of Bsia. 
 
 Save as strange names for things not felt by 
 
 kings, 
 Nor ever to be felt. But it befell 
 In the Royal garden on a day of spring, 
 A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north 
 To their nest-places on Himala's breast. 
 Calling in love-notes down their snowy line 
 The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted ; 
 And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince, 
 Pointed his bow, and loosed a wilful shaft 
 Which found the wide wing of the foremost 
 
 swan 
 Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue 
 
 road 
 So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed. 
 Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure 
 
 plumes. 
 Which seeing, Prince Siddartha took the bird 
 Tenderly up, rested it in his lap — 
 Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha 
 
 sits — 
 And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's 
 
 fright, 
 Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick 
 
 heart. 
 Caressed it into peace with light kind palms 
 As soft as plaintain-leaves an hour unrolled ;
 
 :fiSooft tbe ^iret. 25 
 
 And while the left hand held, the right hand 
 
 drew 
 The cruel steel forth from the wound and laid 
 Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart. 
 Yet all so little knew the boy of pain 
 That curiously into his wrist he pressed 
 The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting, 
 And turned with tears to soothe his bird again. 
 Then some one came who said, " My Prince 
 
 hath shot 
 A swan, which fell among the roses here, 
 He bids me pray you send it. Will you send ? " 
 " Nay," quoth Siddartha, " if the bird were 
 
 dead 
 To send it to the slayer might be well. 
 But the swan lives ; my cousin hath but killed 
 The god-like speed which throbbed in this 
 
 white wing." 
 And Devadatta answered, " The wild thing. 
 Living or dead, is his who fetched it down ; 
 'Tw^as no man's in the clouds, but fall'n 'tis 
 
 mine. 
 Give me my prize, fair Cousin." Then our Lord 
 Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth 
 
 cheek 
 And gravely spake, " Say no ! the bird is mine. 
 The first of myriad things which shall be mine
 
 26 ^be Xifibt of B6ta. 
 
 By right of mercy and love's lordliness. 
 For now I know, by what within me stirs, 
 That I shall teach compassion unto men 
 And be a speechless world's interpreter, 
 Abating this accursed flood of woe, 
 Not man's alone ; but, if the Prince disputes^ 
 Let him submit this matter to the Avise 
 And we will wait their word." So was it done ; 
 In full divan the business had debate, 
 And many thought this thing and many that, 
 Till there arose an unknown priest who said, 
 " If life be aught, the saviour of a life 
 Owns more the living thing than he can own 
 Who sought to slay — the slayer spoils and 
 
 wastes, 
 The cherisher sustains, give him the bird : " 
 Which judgment all found just ; but when the 
 
 King 
 Sought out the sage for honor, he was gone ; 
 And some one saw a hooded snake glide 
 
 forth,— 
 The gods come ofttimes thus ! So our Lord 
 
 Buddh 
 Began his works of mercy. 
 
 Yet not more 
 Knew he as yet of grief than that one bird's, 
 Which, being healed, went joyous to its kind.
 
 JBooft tbe afirst. 27 
 
 But on another day the King said, " Come, 
 Sweet son ! and see the pleasaimce of the 
 
 spring. 
 And how the fruitful earth is wooed to yield 
 Its riches to the reaper ; how my realm — 
 Which shall be thine when the pile flames for 
 
 me — 
 Feeds all its mouths and keeps the King's 
 
 chest filled. 
 Fair is the season with new leaves, bright 
 
 blooms, 
 Green grass, and cries of plough-time." So 
 
 they rode 
 Into a land of wells and gardens, where, 
 All up and down the rich red loam, the steers 
 Strained their strong shoulders in the creaking 
 
 yoke 
 Dragging the ploughs ; the fat soil rose and 
 
 rolled 
 In smooth dark waves back from the plough ; 
 
 who drove 
 Planted both feet upon the leaping share 
 To make the furrow deep ; among the palms 
 The tinkle of the rippling water rang. 
 And where it ran the glad earth 'broidered it 
 With balsams and the spears of lemon-grass. 
 Elsewhere were sowers who went forth to sow j
 
 28 ^bc Xigbt ot Bsia. 
 
 And all the jungle laughed with nesting-songs, 
 And all the thickets rustled with small life 
 Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things 
 Pleased at the spring-time. In the mango- 
 sprays 
 The sun-birds flashed ; alone at his green forge 
 Toiled the loud coppersmith ; bee-eaters 
 
 hawked 
 Chasing the purple butterflies ; beneath, 
 Striped squirrels raced, the mynas perked and 
 
 picked, 
 The nine brown sisters chattered in the thorn, 
 The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool, 
 The egrets stalked among the buffaloes, 
 The kites sailed circles in the golden air ; 
 About the painted temple peacocks flew. 
 The blue doves cooed from every well, far off 
 The village drums beat for some marriage-feast; 
 All things spoke peace and plenty, and the 
 
 Prince 
 Saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw 
 The thorns which grow upon this rose of life ; 
 How the swart peasant sweated for his wage. 
 Toiling for leave to live ; and how he urged 
 The great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours, 
 Goading their velvet flanks : then marked he, 
 too,
 
 :Gooft tbe ^'irst. 29 
 
 How lizard fed on ant, and snake on him, 
 And kite on both ; and how the fish-hawk 
 
 robbed 
 The fish-tiger of that which it had seized ; 
 The shrike chasing the bulbul, which did chase 
 The jewelled butterflies ; till everywhere 
 Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain, 
 Life living upon death. So the fair show 
 Veiled one vast, savage, grim conspiracy 
 Of mutual murder, from the worm to man, 
 Who himself kills his fellow ; seeing which — 
 The hungry ploughman and his laboring kine, 
 Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke. 
 The rage to live which makes all living strife — 
 The Prince Siddartha sighed. "Is this," he 
 
 said, 
 *' That happy earth they brought me forth to 
 
 see ? 
 How salt with sweat the peasant's bread ! how 
 
 hard 
 The oxen's service ! in the brake how fierce 
 The war of weak and strong ! i' th' air what 
 
 plots ! 
 No refuge e'en in water. Go aside 
 A space, and let me muse on what ye show." 
 So saying, the good Lord Buddha seated him 
 Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed —
 
 30 ^bc XlQbt ot Bsia. 
 
 As holy statues sit — and first began 
 To meditate this deep disease of life, 
 What its far source and whence its remedy. 
 So vast a pity filled him, such wide love 
 For living things, such passion to heal pain, 
 That by their stress his princely spirit passed 
 To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint 
 Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat 
 Dhyana, first step of " the path." 
 
 There flew 
 High overhead that hour five holy ones. 
 Whose free wings faltered as they passed the 
 
 tree. 
 " What power superior draws us from our 
 
 flight?" 
 They asked, for spirits feel all force divine, 
 And know the sacred presence of the pure. 
 Then, looking downward, they beheld the 
 
 Buddh 
 Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent 
 On thoughts to save ; while from the grove a 
 
 voice 
 Cried, " Rishis ! this is He shall help the 
 
 world, 
 Descend and worship." So the Bright Ones 
 
 came 
 And sang a song of praise, folding their wings,
 
 :©ooft tbc 3fir5t, 31 
 
 Then journeyed on taking good news to 
 Gods. 
 
 But certain from the King seeking the 
 
 Prince 
 Found him still musing, though the noon was 
 
 past, 
 And the sun hastened to the western hills : 
 Yet, while all shadows moved, the jambu-tree's 
 Stayed in one quarter, overspreading him, 
 Lest the sloped rays should strike that sacred 
 
 head ; 
 And he who saw this sight heard a voice say, 
 Amid the blossoms of the rose-apple, 
 *' Let be the King's son ! till the shadow goes 
 Forth from his heart my shadow will not shift."
 
 §00fe iU ^ttmA. 
 
 Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen 
 
 years, 
 The King commanded that there should be 
 
 built 
 Three stately houses, one of hewn square 
 
 beams 
 With cedar lining, warm for winter days ; 
 One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat ; 
 And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles 
 
 bedecked, 
 Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks 
 
 bud— 
 Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names. 
 Delicious gardens round about them bloomed, 
 Streams wandered wild and musky thickets 
 
 stretched, 
 With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn 
 In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will, 
 Some new delight provided every hour •, 
 And happy hours he knew, for life was rich, 
 
 32
 
 JBooft tbe SeconD* 33 
 
 With youthful blood at quickest ; yet still came 
 
 The shadows of his meditation back, 
 
 As the lake's silver dulls with driving clouds. 
 
 Which the king marking, called his ^Ministers. 
 '' Bethink ye, sirs ! how the old Rishi spake," 
 He said, " and what my dream-readers foretold. 
 This boy, more dear to me than mine heart's 
 
 blood, 
 Shall be of universal dominance, 
 Trampling the neck of all his enemies, 
 A King of kings — and this is in my heart ; — 
 Or he shall tread the sad and lowly path 
 Of self-denial and of pious pains, 
 Gaining who knows what good, when all is lost 
 Worth keeping ; and to this his wistful eyes 
 Do still incline amid my palaces. 
 But ye are sage, and ye will counsel me ; 
 How may his feet be turned to that proud road 
 Where they should walk, and all fair signs 
 
 come true 
 Which gave him Earth to rule, if he would 
 
 rule?" 
 
 The eldest answered, " Maharaja ! love 
 Will cure these thin distempers; weave the 
 spell 
 3
 
 34 ^be %iQbt of Bsia. 
 
 Of woman's wiles about his idle heart. 
 What knows this noble boy of beauty yet, 
 Eyes that make heaven forgot, and lips of 
 
 balm ? 
 Find him soft wives and pretty playfellows ; 
 The thoughts ye cannot stay with brazen chains 
 A girl's hair lightly binds." 
 
 And all thought good, 
 But the King answered, " if we seek him wives, 
 Love chooseth ofttimes with another eye ; 
 And if we bid range Beauty's garden round, 
 To pluck what blossom pleases, he will smile 
 And sweetly shun the joy he knows not of." 
 Then said another, " Roams the barasingh 
 Until the fated arrow flies ; for him, 
 As for less lordly spirits, some one charms. 
 Some face will seem a Paradise, some form 
 Fairer than pale Dawn when she wakes the 
 
 world. 
 This do, my King ! Command a festival 
 Where the realm's maids shall be competitors 
 In youth and grace, and sports that Sakyas 
 
 use. 
 Let the Prince give the prizes to the fair, 
 And, when the lovely victors pass his seat, 
 There shall be those who mark if one or two
 
 :fl5ooft tbe Second. 
 
 35 
 
 Change the fixed sadness of his tender cheek; 
 So we may choose for Love with Love's own 
 
 eyes, 
 And cheat his Highness into happiness." 
 This thing seemed good ; wherefore upon a 
 
 day 
 The criers bade the young and beautiful 
 Pass to the palace, for 'twas in command 
 To hold a court of pleasure, and the Prince 
 Would give the prizes, something rich for all, 
 The richest for the fairest judged. So flocked 
 Kapilavastu's maidens to the gate. 
 Each with her dark hair newly smoothed and 
 
 bound. 
 Eyelashes lustred with the soorma-stick, 
 Fresh-bathed and scented ; all in shawls and 
 
 cloths 
 Of gayest ; slender hands and feet new-stained 
 With crimson, and the tilka-spots stamped 
 
 bright. 
 Fair show it was of all those Indian girls 
 Slow-pacing past the throne with large black 
 
 eyes 
 Fixed on the ground, for when they saw the 
 
 Prince 
 More than the awe of Majesty made beat 
 Their fluttering hearts, he sate so passionless,
 
 ^e ^be Xlgbt of Bsta, 
 
 Gentle, but so beyond them. Each maid took 
 With down-dropped lids her gift, afraid to 
 
 gaze; 
 And if the people hailed some lovelier one 
 Beyond her rivals worthy royal smiles, 
 She stood like a scared antelope to touch 
 The gracious hand, then fled to join her mates 
 Trembling at favor, so divine he seemed, 
 So high and saint-like and above her w^orld. 
 Thus filed they, one bright maid after another, 
 The city's flowers, and all this beauteous 
 
 march 
 Was ending and the prizes spent, when last 
 Came young Yasodhara, and they that stood 
 Nearest Siddartha saw the princely boy 
 Start, as the radiant girl approached. A form 
 Of heavenly mould ; a gait like Parvati's ; 
 Eyes like a hind's in love-time, face so fair 
 Words cannot paint its spell ; and she alone 
 Gazed full — folding her palms across her 
 
 breasts — 
 On the boy's gaze, her stately neck unbent. 
 " Is there a gift for me .^ " she asked, and 
 
 smiled. 
 " The gifts are gone," the Prince replied, " yet 
 
 take 
 This for amends, dear sister, of whose grace
 
 JSooli tbe SeconD. 37 
 
 • 
 
 Our happy city boasts ; " therewith he loosed 
 The emerald necklet from his throat, and 
 
 clasped 
 Its green beads round her dark and silk-soft 
 
 waist ; 
 And their eyes mixed, and from the look 
 
 sprang love. 
 
 Long after — when enlightenment was full — 
 Lord Buddha — being prayed w^hy thus his 
 
 heart 
 Took fire at first glance of the Sakya girl, 
 Answered, " We were not strangers, as to us 
 And all it seemed ; in ages long gone by 
 A hunter's son, playing with forest girls 
 By Yamun's springs, where Nandadevi stands, 
 Sate umpire while they raced beneath the firs 
 Like hares at eve that run their playful rings ; 
 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.
 
 38 ^bc %\Qbt ot Bsia. 
 
 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 changed, 
 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
 
 JSooft tbc SeconD. 
 
 39 
 
 With Sakyas, when any asked a maid 
 
 Of noble house, fair and desirable, 
 
 He must make good his skill in martial arts 
 
 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 Yasodhara 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
 
 40 ^be XiQbt of Bsia, 
 
 To match with him in feats of manliness, 
 The victor's crown to be Yasodhara. 
 
 Therefore, upon the seventh day, there went 
 The Sakya lords and town and country round 
 Unto the maidan ; and the maid went too 
 Amid her kinsfolk, carried as a bride. 
 With music, and with litters gayly dight. 
 And gold-horned oxen, flower-caparisoned. 
 Whom Devadatta claimed, of royal line, 
 And Nanda and Ardjuna, noble both. 
 The flower of all youths there, till the Prince 
 
 came 
 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."
 
 :fi5ooft tbe SeconD. 41 
 
 Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test 
 And set a brazen drum six gows away, 
 iVrdjiina six and Devadatta eight ; 
 But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum 
 Ten gows from off the line, until it seemed 
 A cowry-shell 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 
 Marvelled 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 strung with silverwire 
 Which none but stalwart arms could draw a 
 
 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 ? " 
 And one said, " There is Sinhahanu's bow, 
 Kept in the temple since we know not when, 
 Which none can string, nor draw if it be 
 
 strung."
 
 42 ^be OLigbt of asfa, 
 
 " Fetch me," he cried, " that weapon of a 
 
 man ! " 
 They brought the ancient bow, wrought of 
 
 black steel, 
 Laid with gold tendrils on its branching curves 
 Like bison-horns ; and twice Siddartha 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, and 
 
 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 Sinhahanu'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 the farthest drum, nor stayed its 
 
 flight,
 
 JBooft tbe Second. 43 
 
 But skimmed the plain beyond, past reach of 
 eye. 
 
 Then Devadatta challenged 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 
 Siddartha'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, 
 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^his mouth to earth 
 Twenty spear-lengths he flew; but Nanda 
 
 said, 
 *' We too might win with such as Kantaka ; 
 Bring an unbroken horse, and let men see
 
 44 ^bc %iQht of B6fa. 
 
 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 
 
 Sakya 
 Sprung 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 slain him, but the grooms 
 
 ran in 
 Fettering the maddened beast. Then all men 
 
 cried, * 
 
 "Let not Siddartha meddle with this Bhut, 
 Whose liver is a tempest, and his blood 
 Red flame ; " but the Prince said, " Let go the 
 
 chains.
 
 JiSook tbeSeconD* 45 
 
 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 worshipped 
 
 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 Siddartha is the best." 
 
 And all the suitors answered " He is best 1 " 
 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 ? 
 But wear, fair Prince, the treasure thou hast
 
 46 ^bc Xlabt of B6ia» 
 
 Then at a word the lovely Indian girl 
 
 Rose from her place above the throng, and 
 
 took 
 A crown of mogra-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. 
 And on his breast she laid her perfect head, 
 Aud 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
 
 :©ooft tbe ScconD. 47 
 
 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, wdth 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
 
 48 ^be %\Qbt ot Bsla. 
 
 The fair beast watched us bleed, thus fiercelj 
 
 wooed. 
 And I remember, at the end she came 
 Snarling past this 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 wheel of birth and death turns low and 
 
 high." 
 
 Therefore the maid was given unto the 
 
 Prince 
 A willing spoil ; and when the stars were 
 
 good — 
 Mesha, the Red Ram, being Lord of heaven — 
 The marriage-feast was kept, as Sakyas 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,
 
 JSooft tbe ScconD. 
 
 49 
 
 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 grey father spake : " Worshipful 
 
 Prince, 
 She that was ours henceforth is only thine ; 
 Be good to her, who hath her life ^n thee." 
 Wherewith they brought home sweet Yaso- 
 
 dhara. 
 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 earthy no marvel was 
 Like Vishramvan, the Prince's pleasure-place. 
 Midway in those wide palace-grounds there 
 
 rose 
 A verdant hill whose base Rohini bathed. 
 Murmuring adown from Himalay'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 
 
 4
 
 50 ^be XiQbt of Bsfa. 
 
 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 rose-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 —
 
 :©ooft tbe SeconD* 51 
 
 Radha and Krishna and the sylvan girls — 
 Sita and Hanuman and Draupadi ; 
 And on the middle porch God Ganesha, 
 With disc and hook — to bring wisdom and 
 
 wealth — 
 Propitious sate, wreathing his sidelong trunk. 
 By 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 panelling ; 
 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 
 
 Built their safe nests on gilded cornices ; 
 Over the shining pavements peacocks drew
 
 52 ^be Xf0bt of Bsfa. 
 
 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 sunbirds whirred from bloom to 
 
 bloom, 
 The timid lizards on the lattice basked 
 Fearless, tlie 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. 
 And all this house of love was peopled fair 
 With sweet attendance, so that in each part 
 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,
 
 3i5oo?i tbe SeconO. 
 
 53 
 
 A secret chamber lurked, where skill had 
 
 spent 
 All lovely fantasies to lull the mind. 
 The entrance of it was a cloistered square- 
 Roofed to 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
 
 54 ^bc Xigbt of Bsia* 
 
 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 cymballers, 
 Delicate, dark-browed ministers of love, 
 Who fanned the sleeping eyes of the happy 
 
 Prince, 
 And when he \vaked, 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
 
 3Booft tbe ScconD. 55 
 
 To drowse by sweet Yasodhara ; and thus 
 Siddartha 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 
 Without, where 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 shadow of this fate, too vast for man, 
 May fade, belike, and I shall see him grow 
 To that great stature of fair sovereignty
 
 56 ^be Xigbt of Bsia. 
 
 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 gaoler 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 another 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."
 
 goofe the (T^liM. 
 
 In which calm home of happy life and love 
 Ligged 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- 
 struck ; 
 For at such times the pity in his look 
 Was awful, and his visage like a god's. 
 
 57
 
 58 Zbc Xiflbt of Bsla. 
 
 Then would he smile again to stay her tears, 
 And bid the vinas 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 — 
 And those who lay around heard only that ; 
 But Prince Siddartha heard the Devas play, 
 And to his ears they sang such words as 
 
 these : — 
 
 We 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 moon, 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, 
 AVhat pleasure have we of our changeful pain ? 
 
 What pleasure hast thou of thy changeless bliss ? 
 Nay, if love lasted, there were joy in this ; 
 But life's way is the wind's way, all these things 
 Are but brief voices breathed on shifting strings. 
 
 O Maya's son ! because we roam the earth 
 Moan we upon these strings ; we make no mirth. 
 So many woes wfe see in many lands, 
 So many streaming eyes and wringing hands.
 
 :©ooft tbe ITbirD. 59 
 
 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 waiteth in its misery. 
 The blind world stumbleth on its round of pain; 
 Rise, Maya's child ! wake ! slumber not again ! 
 
 We are the voices of the wandering wind : 
 Wander thou, too, O Prince, thy rest to find ; 
 Leave love for love of lovers, for woe's sake 
 Quit state for sorrow, and deliverance make. 
 
 So sigh we, passing o'er the silver strings. 
 
 To thee who know'st not yet of earthly things ; 
 
 So say we ; mocking, as we pass away, 
 
 These lovely shadows wherewith thou dost play. 
 
 Thereafter it befell he sate at eve 
 Amid his beauteous Court, holding the hand 
 Of sweet Yasodhara, 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
 
 6o ^be Xigbt of Bsia. 
 
 The wind's song in the strings with that fail 
 
 tale. 
 Give her, Yasodhara, thy pearl for thanks. 
 Eut thou, my pearl ! is there so wide a 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 panted, at the sun's decline, 
 To pass with him into that crimson west 
 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 !
 
 :©ooft tbe Zbiv^. 6i 
 
 Na}', 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 Bimbasara'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."
 
 62 ^be XiQbt ot Bsla, 
 
 " Yea ! " spake the careful King, " 'tis time 
 
 he see ! 
 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,
 
 JBooft tbe ^birO. 63 
 
 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 the 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 the people's joy 
 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.
 
 64 ^be Xtgbt of Bsla* 
 
 How good it is to reign in realms like this I 
 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 f 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 shrivelled skin, sun- 
 tanned.
 
 J5ook tbe Zbivtf, 65 
 
 Clung like a beast's hide to his fleshless bones. 
 Bent was his back with load of many days, 
 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 
 
 Idle 
 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 ! " 
 But that Siddartha cried, " Let be ! let be ! 
 Channa ! what thing is this who seems a man, 
 Yet surely only seems, being so bowed, 
 
 5
 
 66 ^be XiQbt of Bsia. 
 
 So miserable, so horrible, so sad ? 
 
 Are men born 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 ; 
 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. 
 Will 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 Yasodhara
 
 :fiSooft tbe XTbirD, 67 
 
 Live fourscore years, is this old age for her, 
 
 Jalini, 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 mein 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 
 Yasodhara 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, Yasodhara ! 
 Loveless, unlovely, weak, and old, and bowed. 
 Nay, though we locked up love and life with 
 
 lips 
 So close that night and day our breaths grew 
 
 one.
 
 68 XTbe XlQbt of Bsia* 
 
 Time would thrust in between to filch away 
 My passion and thy grace, as black Night 
 
 steals 
 The rose-gleams from yon peak, which fade to 
 
 grey 
 And are not seen to fade. This have I found. 
 And all my heart is darkened with its dread, 
 And all my heart is fixed to think how Love 
 Might save its sweetness from the slayer, Time, 
 Who makes men old." So through 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 
 
 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 ;
 
 :fl5oo?i tbc ^birD. 69 
 
 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 jewelled spokes, 
 And strange things written on the binding tire. 
 Which seemed both fire and music as it whirled. 
 The fifth fear was a mighty drum, set down 
 Midway between the city and the hills. 
 On which the Prince beat with an iron mace. 
 So that the sc>und pealed like a thunderstorm, 
 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 
 Jacynths and rubies ; and the whole world 
 
 came. 
 Striving to seize those treasures as they fell
 
 70 Zbc XlQbt of Bsfa. 
 
 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 portends 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 
 An 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
 
 JSooft tbe XTbirD, 
 
 71 
 
 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 Indra's badge — cast 
 
 down 
 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 the 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
 
 72 ^be Xiflbt ot Bsia, 
 
 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 unan- 
 swerable, 
 Convince of foolishness. O King ! rejoice ; 
 The fortune of my Lord the Prince is more 
 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 eiv 
 
 tered in
 
 JBooli tbe ^birD. 73 
 
 At Chandra's temple, but within was none 
 
 Save a grey owl which fluttered from the 
 shrine." 
 
 The gods come sometimes thus. 
 
 But the sad King 
 
 Marvelled, and gave command that new de- 
 lights 
 
 Be compassed to enthrall 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 hi^ 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 ha^e 1 learned' 
 This is not daily life, and if I stand. 
 Nearest, my father, to the realm aaidthee,
 
 74 ^bc XfQbt of Bsia. 
 
 Fain would I know the people and the streets, 
 Their simple usual ways, and workday deeds, 
 And lives which those men live who are not 
 
 kings. 
 Give me good leave, dear Lord ! to pass un- 
 known 
 Beyond 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,
 
 JBooft tbe EbirO. 75 
 
 And 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, 
 The singing bearers wath the palanquins. 
 The broad-necked hamals sw^eating in the sun, 
 The housewives bearing water from the well 
 With balanced chatties, and athwart their hips 
 The black-eyed babes ; the fly-swarmed sweet- 
 meat shops. 
 The weaver at his loom, the cotton-bow 
 Twanging, the millstones grinding meal, the 
 
 dogs 
 Prowling for orts, the skilful 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 Guru, in a grave half-moon, 
 The Sakya children sang the mantras through,
 
 76 ^be XiQbt of Bsfa. 
 
 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 Brahman proud, the martial Kshatriya, 
 The humble toiling Sudra ; here a throng 
 Gathered to watch some chattering snake- 
 tamer 
 Wind round his wrist the living jewellery 
 Of asp and nag, or charm the hooded death 
 To angry 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 
 Where the swart potters beat the noisy brass 
 For lamps and lotas ; thence, by temple walls 
 And gateways, to the river and the bridge 
 Under the city walls. 
 
 These had they passed
 
 :fiSooft tbe ^btrD* 77 
 
 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 ^gony. 
 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 J 
 
 this man
 
 78 ^be %iQbt of Bsia, 
 
 Is smitten with some pest ; his elements 
 Ar§all confounded; in his veins the blood, 
 Which ran a wholesome river, leaps and boils 
 A fiery flood ; his heart, which kept good time, 
 Beats like an ill-played drum-skin, quick and 
 
 slow ; 
 His sinews slacken like a bow-string slipped j 
 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 else- 
 where. 
 Oh, sir ! it is not good to hold him so ! 
 The harm may pass, and strike thee, even 
 
 thee."
 
 JBook tbe CbirD. 
 
 79 
 
 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 } '* 
 " 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,
 
 8o ^be Xlgbt of Bsia. 
 
 Is this, a broken 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 shorn, with mourning marks, 
 
 ungirt, 
 Crying aloud, " O Rama, Rama, hear ! 
 Call upon Rama, brothers ; " next the bier,
 
 moo\{ tbe ^birD. 8i 
 
 Knit of four poles with bamboos interlaced, 
 Whereon lay, stark and stiff, feet foremost, 
 
 lean, 
 Chapfallen, sightless, hollow-flanked, a-grin. 
 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 grey, with here and there a bone 
 White midst the grey — 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 
 6
 
 82 XLbc %iQbt ot Bsia. 
 
 To all," quoth Channa ; *' he upon the pyre — 
 Whose 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 nought ; he smelleth not his 
 
 flesh 
 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
 
 JBooft tbe ^birJ). s^ 
 
 Somewhere, somehow, — who knows ? — and so 
 
 again 
 The pangs, the parting, and the lighted pile : — 
 Such is man's round." 
 
 " But lo ! Siddartha turned 
 Eyes gleaming 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, w^hile his lifted countenance 
 Glowed with the burning passion of a love 
 Unspeakable, the ardor of a hope 
 Boundless, insatiate : " Oh ! suffering w^orld, 
 Oh ! known and unknown of my common flesh. 
 Caught in this common net of death and w^oe, 
 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, 
 And love in loss, and life in hateful death, 
 And death in unknown lives, w^hich will but 
 
 yoke
 
 84 ^be %iQbt of Bsia. 
 
 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 
 For ever 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 them- 
 selves 
 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 P^Channa ! lead home again ! 
 It is enough ! mine eyes have seen enough ! " 
 
 Which when the King heard, at the gates 
 he set
 
 :f6oo\{ tbe cbirD. s^ 
 
 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.
 
 §0a1i the go\xti\i. 
 
 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, 
 W^hen 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 jewelled 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
 
 JBooft tbe jfourtb. 87 
 
 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 
 Mudra, the watchword, and the countersign 
 Angafia, 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 Devis 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 all ! "
 
 88 ^be %\Qbt ot Bsia. 
 
 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 
 Prom 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 back 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 jewelled 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 
 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
 
 :i6ooft tbe J'ourtb. 89 
 
 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
 
 90 ^bc Xfgbt ot Bsfa, 
 
 Their sister-sweetness in a starry chain, 
 Linking them limb to limb and heart to heart 
 One pillowed on the blossoms, one on her. 
 Another, ere she slept, was stringing stones 
 To make a necklet — agate, onyx, sard, 
 Coral, and moonstone — round her wrist it 
 
 gleamed 
 A coil of splendid color, w^hile 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 arid make daylight beautiful. 
 This was the antechamber of the Prince ; 
 But at the purdah's fringe the sweetest slept — 
 Gunga and Gotami — chief ministers 
 In that still house of love. 
 
 The purdah 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,
 
 JBooft tbc jFourtb. 91 
 
 Where the foot fell as though it trod on piles 
 Of neem-blooms. 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, 
 Jacynth 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 
 Sweeter than shed from those fair presences 
 Within the place — the beauteous Sakya Prince, 
 And hers, the stately, bright Yasodhara. 
 
 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!
 
 92 ^be XtQbt of B6ia. 
 
 Give me the comfort of thy speech ! " Then 
 
 he— 
 "What is it with thee, O my life ? " but still 
 She moaned anew before the words 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 of dread, 
 With thought whereof my heart is throbbing 
 
 yet. 
 I saw a white bull with wide branching horns, 
 A lord of pastures, pacing through the streets, 
 Bearing upon his front a gem 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 Indra's temple, ' If ye stay him not, 
 The glory of the city goeth forth.' 
 Yet none could stay him. Then I wept aloud, 
 And locked my arms about his neck, and strove,
 
 3Book tbe 3fourtb. 93 
 
 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 dow^n and passed away. 
 The next strange dream was this : Four Pres- 
 ences 
 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 Indra on the gate 
 Flutter and fall ; and lo ! 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 w^ords and weighty sentences 
 Whose message made all living creatures glad ; 
 And from the east the wind of sunrise blew 
 With tender waft, opening those jewelled scrolls 
 So that all flesh might read ; and w^ondrous 
 
 blooms — 
 Plucked in what clime I know not— fell in 
 
 showers, 
 Colored as none are colored in our groves."
 
 94 ' ^be Xifibt ot Bsia. 
 
 Then spake the Prince : " All this, my Lotus* 
 
 flower ! 
 Was good to see." 
 
 " Ay, Lord," 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 ! ah, on our bed there lay 
 An unpressed pillow and an empty robe — 
 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 ; 
 While 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 —
 
 :iSoo!i tbe 3fourtb. 95 
 
 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 dream 
 
 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 Yasodhara. 
 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 soul yearns sore for souls unknown. 
 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 1
 
 96 Zbc Xigbt ot Bsia. 
 
 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 lowed, 
 That jewelled 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 —
 
 :©ooft tbe jfourtb. 97 
 
 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.'' 
 
 Then in her tears she slept, but sleeping 
 
 sighed — 
 As if that vision passed again — " The time ! 
 The time is come ! " Whereat 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 night !— 
 
 choose thou 
 The way of greatness or the way of good : 
 To reign a King of kings, or wander lone, 
 Crownless and homeless, that the w^orld 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 
 W^atching our Lord, who watched the shining 
 
 stars. 
 
 "I will depart," he spake; *'the hour is 
 come ! 
 7
 
 98 ^be Xlgbt ot Bsia. 
 
 Thy tender lips, dear sleeper, summon me 
 To that which saves the earth but sunders us ; 
 And in the silence of yon sky I read 
 My fated message flashing. Unto this 
 Came 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 
 Prom 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, 
 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 
 By uttermost renouncing and strong strife. 
 For which of all the great and lesser Gods 
 Have power or pity ? Who hath seen them — 
 who?
 
 :©oo?i tbe 3fourtb» 99 
 
 What have they wrought to help their wor- 
 shippers ? 
 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 w^orthiest — 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. 
 Or 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 evil-some, but all in action weak ; 
 Both pitiful and pitiless, and both —
 
 100 ^bc %\Qbt of Bsfa. 
 
 As men are — bound upon this wheel of change, 
 Knowing the former and the after Hves. 
 For so our scriptures truly seem to teach, 
 That — once, and wheresoe'er, and whence 
 
 begun — 
 Life runs its rounds of living, climbing up 
 From mote, and gnat, and worm, reptile, and 
 
 fish, 
 Eird 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,
 
 :fiSooft tbe 3fourtb. loi 
 
 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 vrith health and ease, from 
 
 birth designed 
 To rule — if he would rule — a King of kings ; 
 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,
 
 102 Z\)C XlQbt of Bsia. 
 
 That should be won for which he lost the 
 
 world, 
 And Death might find him conqueror of death. 
 This will I do, who have a realm to lose, 
 Because I love my realm, because my heart 
 Beats 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 
 
 earth ! 
 For thee and thine I lay aside my youth. 
 My throne, my joys, my golden days, my nights, 
 My happy palace — and thine arms, sweet 
 
 Queen ! 
 Harder to put aside than all the rest ! 
 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 will fail. 
 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.
 
 3Boo[i tbe Jpourtb, 103 
 
 Now am I fixed, and now I will depart, 
 
 Never to come again till what I seek 
 
 Be 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-hushed, 
 In such sealed sleep as water-lilies know, 
 The lovely garden of his Indian girls ; 
 That twin dark-petalled lotus-buds of all — 
 Gunga and Gotami — on either side. 
 And those, their silk-leaved sisterhood, beyond. 
 *' Pleasant ye are to me, sweet friends ! " he 
 
 said, 
 *^ And dear to leave ; yet if I leave ye not
 
 104 ^^^ %iQbt of Bsia, 
 
 What else will come to all of us save eld 
 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 I 
 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 Hve as trees do — so much 
 
 spring, 
 Such and such rains and frosts, such winter- 
 times, 
 And then dead leaves, with maybe spring again. 
 Or axe-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 ! 
 While life is good to give, I give, and go 
 To seek deliverance and that unknown Light ! " 
 
 Then, lightly treading where those sleepers 
 lay,
 
 JBooft tbe 3fourtb. 105 
 
 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 
 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,
 
 io6 XLbc %iQbt ot H6ia. 
 
 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 should 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 chario- 
 teer, 
 
 " Spake then for nought those wise and holy 
 men 
 
 Who cast the stars and bade us wait the time 
 
 When King Suddhodana's great son should 
 rule 
 
 Realms upon realms, and be a Lord of lords ?
 
 :©ooft tbe Jfaurtb, 107 
 
 Wilt thou ride hence and let the rich world 
 
 slip 
 Out of thy grasp, to hold a beggar's bowl ? 
 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 ! 
 Eethink thee of their woe w^hose bhss thou 
 
 art — 
 How shalt thou help them, first undoing them ? " 
 
 Siddartha answered, " Friend, that love is 
 false 
 Which 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, if utmost love avail. 
 Go, bring me Kantaka ! " 
 
 Then Channa said,
 
 io8 Zbc %iQbt ot Bsia. 
 
 " Master, I go ! " and forthwith, mournfully, 
 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 jewelled girths^ 
 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 joyously he neighed, 
 Spreading his scarlet nostrils ; and the books 
 Write, " Surely all had heard Kantaka's neigh, 
 And that strong trampling of his iron heels, 
 Save that the Devas laid their unseen wings 
 Over their ears and kept the sleepers deaf." 
 
 Fondly Siddartha drew the proud head 
 down.
 
 :fiSoo?i tbe 3fourtb, 109. 
 
 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 thousand 
 
 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 shalt thou share with 
 
 him 
 The greatness of this deed which helps the 
 
 world ; 
 For therefore ride I, not for men alone, 
 Butfor all things which, speechless, share our 
 
 pain 
 And have no hope, nor wit to ask for hope. 
 Now, therefore, bear thy master valorously ! " 
 
 Then to the saddle lightly leaping, he 
 Touched the arched crest, and Kantaka sprang 
 forth
 
 no ^be Xiflbt ot Bsia. 
 
 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 mohra-flowers and strewed 
 
 them thick 
 Under his tread, while hands invisible 
 Muffled the ringing bit and bridle chains. 
 Moreover, it is written when they came 
 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 ! the doors 
 Rolled back all silently, though one might 
 
 hear 
 In daytime two koss off the thunderous roar 
 Of those grim hinges and unwieldy plates. 
 
 Also 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,
 
 J6ooft tbc 3fourtb» m 
 
 Silent as dead men, all those chosen guards — 
 The lance and sword let fall, the shields 
 
 unbraced, 
 Captains and soldiers — for there came a wind, 
 Drowsier than blows o'er Malwa's fields of 
 
 sleep, 
 Before the Prince's path, which, being breathed, 
 Lulled every sense aswoon : and so he passed 
 Free from the palace. 
 
 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. 
 Then drew he rein, and leaped to earth and 
 
 kissed 
 White Kantaka betwixt the ears, and spake 
 Full sweet to Channa : " This which thou hast 
 
 done 
 Shall bring thee good and bring all creatures 
 
 good. 
 Be 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,
 
 112 Zbc Xlgbt ot B6ia. 
 
 My jewelled sword-belt and my sword, and 
 
 these 
 The long locks by its bright edge severed thus 
 From off my brows. Give the King all, and 
 
 say 
 Siddartha prays forget him till he come 
 Ten times a Prince, with royal wisdom won 
 From lonely search ings and the strife for light ; 
 Where, if I conquer, lo ! all earth is mine — 
 Mine by chief service ! — tell him — mine by 
 
 love ! 
 Since there is hope for man only in man. 
 And none hath sought for this as I will seek, 
 Who cast away my world to save my world."
 
 :©oo!i tbe 3fittb. 113 
 
 goah ilxc Sm, 
 
 Round Rajagriha five fair hills arose, 
 Guarding King Bimbasara'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 footworn 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 
 
 8
 
 114 ^t)e !ILl0bt of Bsia. 
 
 Lord Buddha sate the scorching summers 
 
 through, 
 The driving rains, the chilly dawns and eves ; 
 Wearing for all men's sakes the yellow robe, 
 Eating in beggar's guise the scanty meal 
 Chance-gathered from the charitable ; at night 
 Couched on the grass, homeless, 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. 
 
 Thu§ would he muse from noontide — when 
 the land 
 Shimmered with heat, and walls and temples 
 
 danced 
 In the reeking air — till sunset, noting not
 
 JSook tbe 3fittb, 115 
 
 The blazing globe roll down, nor ev'Cning glide, 
 iPurple 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 unravelling 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 asks 
 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 moved 
 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.
 
 ii6 ^be Xigbt of Bsia., 
 
 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 passed 
 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, 
 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.
 
 :ffiooft tbe Jfittb, n; 
 
 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 onw^ard 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 wdth 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 
 With bitter pains, till sense of pain is killed, 
 And tortured nerves vex torturer no more — 
 Yogis and Brahmacharis, 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 dis- 
 ease — 
 Their slowly-wasting joints and stiffened limbs- 
 Jutted from sapless shoulders like dead forks
 
 ii8 ^be XiQbt ot Bsia. 
 
 JFrom forest trunks. Others had clenched 
 
 their hands 
 So long and with so fierce a fortitude, 
 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 wdth fire, 
 Threaded their flesh with jungle thorns and 
 
 spits, 
 Besmeared with mud and ashes, crouching 
 
 foul 
 In rags of dead men wrapped about their 
 
 loins. 
 Certain there were inhabited the spots 
 Where death-pyres smouldered, cowering de- 
 filed 
 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,
 
 Booft tbc mttb. 119 
 
 Sinews and muscles shrivelled, 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. 
 
 Whom sadly eying spake our Lord to one, 
 Chief of the woe-begones : " Much- suffering sir I 
 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 ? "
 
 I20 ^bc XiGbt Of Bsia. 
 
 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 Indra's 
 
 throne. 
 Rose thither from the tempest-driven sea ; 
 But 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. 
 Know'st thou, my brother, if it be not thus, 
 After 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 ! "
 
 JBooft tbe jfiftb. 121 
 
 " It may begin'" 
 The hermit moaned. " Alas ! we know not 
 
 this, 
 Xor surely anything ; yet after night 
 Day comes, and after turmoil peace, and we 
 Hate this accursed flesh which clogs the souf 
 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 lengthy 
 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 
 For ever, brothers ? " 
 
 " Nay," the 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 ?
 
 122 ^be Xl0bt of Bsia. 
 
 Will 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 ? " 
 
 Then cried they, " We have chosen this for 
 
 road 
 And tread it, Rajaputra, 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, 
 But plague it with fierce penances, belike 
 To please the Gods who grudge pleasure to 
 man ;
 
 Booft tbe mttb. 123 
 
 Belike to balk* hell by self-kindled hells ; 
 
 Belike in holy madness, hoping soul 
 
 May break the better through their wasted 
 
 flesh. 
 " Oh, flowerets 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 despoil 
 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 ! 
 But man, who slays ye — being lord — is wise, 
 And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thus- 
 
 forth 
 In self-tormentings ! "
 
 124 ^^^ Xisbt of Bsia* 
 
 \Miile the Master spake 
 Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet, 
 White goats and black sheep win-ding 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, w^hich toiled 
 
 behind 
 Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped, 
 And the vexed dam hither and thither ran, 
 JFearful 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, "where- 
 fore, friends !
 
 :ffiooft tbe 3fittb. 125 
 
 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." 
 
 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, wdth tearful face 
 And lifted hands — saluted, bending low : 
 " Lord ! thou art he," she said, " who yesterday 
 Had pity on me in the fig-grov.e here, 
 W^here 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 
 
 mouth
 
 126 Z\)c %\Qbt of Bsla. 
 
 Of that cold playmate. But, alas ! ere long 
 He turned so pale and still, I could not think 
 Why 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, 
 And wept and drew the face cloth from my 
 
 babe. 
 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
 
 :©ooft tbe 3fittb. 127 
 
 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 child, or slave ? ' they 
 
 said : 
 
 * O Sister ! what is this you ask ? the dead
 
 128 ^be XiQbt ot 2l6ia. 
 
 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 ! ' 
 ' 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! 
 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 woe :
 
 JSool; tbe 3fittb. 129 
 
 The grief which all hearts share grows less for 
 
 one. 
 Lo ! 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 drives 
 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 herdsmen 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 saw 
 Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood 
 
 back. 
 The market-people drew their wains aside. 
 In the bazaar 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 
 
 9
 
 130 ^be Xlabt of Bsia. 
 
 His count of cowries ; from the unwatched rice 
 Shiva's white bull fed free ; 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, " Who 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 here 
 A holy hermit, bringing down the flock 
 Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice." 
 
 The King stood in his hall of offering,
 
 3Boo?i tbc Jfiftb. 131 
 
 On either hand the white-robed Brahmans 
 
 ranged 
 Muttered their mantras, feeding still the fire 
 Which roared upon the midmost altar. There 
 From scented woods flickered bright tongues 
 
 of flame, 
 Hissing and curling as they licked the gifts 
 Of ghee and spices and the Soma juice, 
 The joy of Indra. 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 
 With munja grass ; at its stretched throat the 
 
 knife 
 Pressed by a priest, who murmured, "This, 
 
 dread gods, 
 Of many yajnas cometh as the crown 
 From Bimbasara : 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,
 
 132 ^be Xlsbt ot Beia, 
 
 " Let him not strike, great King ! " and there- 
 with loosed 
 The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great 
 His presence was. Then, craving leave, he 
 
 spake 
 Of 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. 
 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 
 Do surely teach, how that at death some sink 
 To bird and beast, and these rise up to man 
 In wanderings of the spark which grows purged 
 
 flame. 
 So were the sacrifice new sin, if so
 
 3Booft tbc Jfittb. 133 
 
 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.
 
 134 ^be Xiflbt of Bsia. 
 
 Bloodless and pure ; the golden grain, bright 
 
 fruits, 
 Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan, 
 Sufficient drinks and meats. Which when 
 
 these heard. 
 The might of gentleness so conquered them, 
 The priests themselves scattered their altar- 
 flames 
 And flung away the steel of sacrifice ; 
 And through 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, 
 And mercy cometh to the merciful." 
 So ran the edit, and from those days forth 
 Sweet peace hath spread between all living 
 
 kind, 
 Man and the beasts which serve him, and the 
 
 birds. 
 On all those banks of Gunga where our Lord 
 Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech.
 
 JSooh tbe ifittb. 135 
 
 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 Brahman'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 
 A fierce sun sucked the pools ; grasses and 
 
 herbs 
 Sickened, and all the woodland creatures fled 
 Scattering for sustenance. At such a time. 
 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 shrivelled 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,
 
 336 ^be Xiabt ot B6fa» 
 
 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, w^ho shall lose but 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, 
 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
 
 »oo?i tbe mttb. 137 
 
 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 Bimbasara 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 sceptres, 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 Gaya and the forest shades, 
 Where, as I think, the light will come to me ; 
 For nowise here among the Rishis comes
 
 138 ^be Xlflbt of B6ia. 
 
 That light, nor from the Shasters, nor from 
 
 fasts 
 Borne till the body faints, starved by the soul. 
 Yet there is light to reach and truth to win ; 
 And surely, O true Friend, if I attain 
 I will return and quit thy love." 
 
 Thereat 
 Thrice round the Prince King Bimbasara 
 
 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 — 
 Alara, 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 Smriti — 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
 
 :©ooft tbe ifittb 139 
 
 Be better than the Karm ma- Kan d, 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 yet comforted.
 
 140 Zbc %iQbt ot B0ia» 
 
 §00fe m ^ixtlt. 
 
 Thou who wouldst see where dawned the light 
 
 at last, 
 North-westwards from the "Thousand Gar- 
 dens "go . 
 By Gunga's valley till thy steps be set 
 On the green hills where those twin streamlets 
 
 spring 
 Nilijan and Mohana ; follow them, 
 Winding beneath broad-leaved mahiia-trees, 
 'Mid thickets of the sansar and the bir, 
 Till on the plain the shining sisters meet 
 In Phalgii's bed, flowing by rocky banks 
 To Gaya and the red Barabar hills. 
 Hard by that river spreads a thorny waste, 
 Uruwelaya 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 white,
 
 JBooR tbe Siitb. 141 
 
 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 w^oes of men, 
 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, hke 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 chrysoprase. 
 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 parokeet. Therefore his grace 
 Faded ; his body, worn by stress of soul,
 
 142 ^be XiQbt of Bsia. 
 
 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 overwrought 
 Prince 
 Fell to the earth in deadly sworn, 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 
 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 face. 
 Also he poured upon the Master's lips 
 Drops of w^arm milk, pressed from his she- 
 goat's bag, 
 Lest, being of low caste, he do wrong to one 
 So high and holy seeming. But the books 
 Tell how the jambu-branches, planted thus, 
 Shot with quick life in wealth of leaf and 
 flower
 
 :fiSooft tbe Siitb- 
 
 143 
 
 And glowing fruitage interlaced and close, 
 So that the bo\^'er 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 worshipped, deeming him some 
 
 God; 
 But our Lord gaining breath, arose and asked 
 Milk in the shepherd's lota. " Ah, my Lord, 
 I 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. 
 
 And on another day there passed that road
 
 144 ^^^ XfQbt Of Bsia. 
 
 A band of tinselled girls, the nautch-dancers 
 Of Indra's temple in the town, with those 
 Who made their music — one that beat a drum 
 Set round with peacock-feathers, one that blew 
 The piping bansuli, and one that twitched 
 A three-string sitar. Lightly tripped they 
 
 down 
 From ledge to ledge and through the chequered 
 
 paths 
 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 sitar' s tuned; 
 Tune us the sitar 7ieither low nor high, 
 And we will dance away the hearts 0/ men. 
 
 Tlie string overstretched breaks, and the 
 
 music flies; 
 The string derslack is dumb, and music 
 
 dies ; 
 Tune us the sitar neither low nor high. " 
 
 So sang the nautch-girl to the pipe and wires,
 
 :Boo\{ tbe Sixth. 145 
 
 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. 
 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 — 
 *' Senani." 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 speech to all 
 And gladsome looks — a pearl of womanhood — 
 10
 
 146 Zbc %\Qht of a6ia. 
 
 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 be- 
 sought 
 Lukshmi ; 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 Devs 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 
 With grateful foot-steps 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 Radha, sent before to sweep the ground
 
 :Boo1i tbe Siitb. 
 
 47 
 
 And tie the scarlet threads around the tree, 
 Came eager, crying, " 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 
 Thece our poor gifts of snowy curds, fresh- 
 made, 
 W^ith 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
 
 148 ^be 3Li0bt of Bsia. 
 
 Out of the hearts of roses : and he ate, 
 Speaking no word, while the glad mother 
 
 stood 
 In reverence apart. But of that meal 
 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 plumed 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 Sujtaa worshipped, 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 Sujtaa, " 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
 
 :Sooft tbe Siitb* 149 
 
 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 lotas, adding rice, well grown 
 From chosen seed, set in new-broken ground. 
 So picked that every grain was like a pearl. 
 This did I of true heart, 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 Hfe is bliss !" 
 
 Softly our Lord drew down the crimson fold, 
 And, laying on the little head those hands 
 Which help the worlds, he said, " Long be thy 
 
 bUss ! 
 And lightly fall on him the load of life ! 
 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 some- 
 where shines 
 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 re- 
 stored,
 
 150 Zbc %iQbt ot Bsla, 
 
 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 Sujtaa, " Worshipful ! my heart 
 Is 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 my 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. 
 After the temple and the talk with friends. 
 How should I not be happy, blest so much,
 
 :ffiooft tbe Siitb, 151 
 
 And bearing him this boy whose tiny hand 
 Shall lead his soul to Swerga, if it need ? 
 For holy books teach when a man shall plant 
 Trees for the travellers' 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 place 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 pa- 
 tience peace 
 Even while we live ; and when 'tis willed we 
 
 die 
 Shall there not be as good a ' Then ' as ' Now ' ? 
 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
 
 152 Zbc XiQbt ot Bsia* 
 
 Lurks in those little, naked, grey spring-buds, 
 Ah, Sir ! I know there might be woes to bear 
 Would lay fond Patience with 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. 
 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 crore 
 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 me, 
 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. "
 
 JSooft tbe Siitb 153 
 
 Then spake our Lord, " Thou teachest them 
 
 who teach, 
 Wiser than wisdom in thy simple lore. 
 Be thou content to know not, knowing thus 
 Thy 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 worshipped me, I worship thee I 
 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 I 
 As thou accomplishest, may I achieve ! 
 He whom thou thoughtest God bids thee wish 
 
 this." 
 
 " !May'st thou achieve," she said, with ear- 
 nest eyes 
 Bent on her babe, who reached its tender 
 
 hands 
 To Buddh — knowing, belike, as children know. 
 More than we deem, and reverencing our Lord ;
 
 154 ^t>c ILigbt of B6la» 
 
 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 ; w^herefore he 
 
 went 
 With measured pace, steadfast, majestical, 
 Unto the Tree of Wisdom. Oh, ye Worlds ! 
 Rejoice ! our Lord wended unto the Tree ! 
 
 Whom — as he passed into its ample shade, 
 Cloistered with columned drooping stems, and 
 
 roofed 
 With vaults of glistening green — the conscious 
 
 earth 
 Worshipped 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 wonder- 
 ing eyes
 
 :ffiooft tbe Siitb. 
 
 155 
 
 Of woodland creatures — panther, boar, and 
 
 deer — 
 At peace that eve, gazed on his face benign 
 From cave and thicket. From 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 prey and screamed ; the striped palm-squir- 
 rel raced 
 From stem to stem to see ; the weaver-bird 
 Chirped from her swinging nest ; the lizard 
 
 ran ; 
 The koil 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 Saviour ! 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.
 
 156 ^be Xigbt of Bsia, 
 
 Pass, Hailed and Honored ! strive thy last 
 
 for us, 
 King and high 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, Trishna, 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, 
 With thunder, and with blinding lightning flung
 
 JBooft tbe Siitb, 157 
 
 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 w^hether 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 — Attavada first, 
 The Sin of Self, who in the Universe 
 As in a mirror 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
 
 158 ^be XlQbt of Bsia. 
 
 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 ; 
 Thou 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." 
 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, 
 Slabbat-paramasa, sorceress. 
 Draped fair in many lands as lowly Faith, 
 But ever juggling 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
 
 JBooft tbe Siitb* 159 
 
 That law which feeds the priests and props 
 
 the reahns ? " 
 But Buddha answered, " What thou bidd'st me 
 
 keep 
 Is form which passes, but the free Truth 
 
 stands ; 
 Get thee untothy darkness." Next there drew 
 Gallantly nigh a braver Tempter, he, 
 Kama, the King of passions, who hath sway 
 Over the Gods themselves. 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 de- 
 sire 
 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 chords. 
 So witching, that it seemed the night stood 
 
 still 
 To hear them, and the listening stars and moon
 
 i6o ^be XiQbt ot Bsia. 
 
 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 
 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, worshipped 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.
 
 J6oo\{ tbc Siitb. i6l 
 
 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 ! Kama 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 Yasodhara. 
 Tender the passion of those dark eyes seemed 
 Brimming with tears ; yearning those outspread. 
 
 arms 
 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 I 
 
 Ah, look ! 
 Am I not she thou lovedst ? " But Buddh said^ 
 
 II
 
 i62 Zbc %iQht of asia. 
 
 *' 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, which 
 
 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 
 Beguiles the wise, mother of daring deeds, 
 Battles and toils. And haughty Mano came. 
 The Fiend of Pride ; and smooth Self-Right- 
 eousness,
 
 JBooft tbe ^birD, 163 
 
 Uddhachcha ; and — with many a hideous band 
 Of vile and formless things, which crept and 
 
 flapped 
 Toad-like and bat-like — Ignorance, the 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 
 
 streams 
 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 wings, of screams and 
 
 yells. 
 Of evil faces peering, of vast fronts 
 Terrible and majestic. Lords of Hell 
 Who from a thousand Limbos 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 Bodhi-tree — 
 Amid that tumult stirred not, but each leaf 
 Glistened as still as when on moonlit eves
 
 164 ^bc Xigbt of Bsla* 
 
 No zephyr spills the glittering gems of dew ; 
 For all this clamor raged outside the shade 
 Spread by those cloistered stems : 
 
 In the third watch, 
 The earth being still, the helHsh legions fled, 
 A soft air breathing from the sinking moon. 
 Our Lord attained Savima-safiibiiddh ; he saw 
 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 patch ; 
 
 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 ; thus Buddha did behold 
 Life's upward steps long-linked, from levels low 
 Where breath is base, to higher slopes and 
 
 higher
 
 J6oo?^ tbe Siitb. 165 
 
 Whereon the ten great Virtues wait to lead 
 The climber skyward. Also, Buddha saw 
 How new life reaps what the old life did sow : 
 How where its march breaks off its march be- 
 gins ; 
 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 Ahhidjna — insight vast 
 Ranging beyond this sphere to spheres un- 
 named, 
 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 sapphire sea 
 Shoreless, unfathomed, undiminished, stirred
 
 i66 XTbe Xigbt of Bsia, 
 
 With waves which roll in restless tides of 
 
 change. 
 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 centres 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, Mahakalpas — 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 * 
 
 Fulfils 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
 
 JBooft tbe Siitb, 167 
 
 Evolve the dark to light, the dead to life, 
 
 To fulness void, to form the yet unformed, 
 
 Good unto better, better unto best, 
 
 By wordless edict ; having none to bid. 
 
 None to forbid ; for this is past all gods 
 
 Immutable, unspeakable, supreme, 
 
 A Power which builds, unbuilds, and builds 
 
 again, 
 Ruhng 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
 
 i68 ^be XlQbt of B6ia. 
 
 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. 
 The eyes of such a one are wide, he sees 
 Delusion breeds Sankhara, Tendency 
 Perverse : Tendency Energy — Vidnnan — 
 Whereby comes Namarupa, local form 
 And name and bodiment, bringing the man 
 With senses naked to the sensible, 
 A helpless mirror of all shows which pass 
 Across his heart ; and so Vedana grows — 
 * Sense-life ' — false in its gladness, fell in sad 
 
 ness.
 
 :fiSooft tbe Siitb. 169 
 
 But sad or glad, the ^Mother of Desire, 
 Trishna, that thirst which makes the living 
 
 drink 
 Deeper and deeper of the false salt waves 
 Whereon they float, pleasures, ambitions, 
 
 wealth. 
 Praise, fame, or domination, conquest, love ; 
 Rich meats and robes, and fair abodes, and 
 
 pride 
 Of ancient lines, and lust of days, and strife 
 To live, and sins that flow from strife, some 
 
 sweet. 
 Some bitter. Thus Life's thirst quenches 
 
 itself 
 With draughts which double thirst, but who is 
 
 wise 
 Tears from his soul this Trishna, feeds his 
 
 sense 
 No longer on false shows, files his firm mind 
 To seek not, strive not, wrong not ; bearing 
 
 meek 
 All ills which flow from foregone wrongful- 
 ness, 
 And so constraining passions that they die 
 Famished ; till all the sum of ended life — 
 The Karma — all that total of a soul 
 Which is the things it did, the thoughts it had,
 
 170 tTbe Xlgbt of Bsfa. 
 
 The * Self ' it wove — with woof of viewless 
 
 time, 
 Crossed on the warp invisible of acts — 
 The outcome of him on the Universe, 
 Grows pure and sinless ; either never more 
 Needing to find a body and a place, 
 Or so informing what fresh frame it takes 
 In new existence that the new toils prove 
 Lighter and lighter not to be at all. 
 Thus " finishing the Path ; " free from Earth's 
 
 cheats ; 
 Released from all the skandhas of the flesh ; 
 Broken from ties — from Upadanas — saved 
 From whirling on the wheel ; aroused and 
 
 sane 
 As is a man wakened from hateful dreams. 
 Until — greater than Kings, than Gods more 
 
 glad !— 
 The aching craze to live ends, and life 
 
 glides — 
 Lifeless — to nameless quiet, nameless joy, 
 Blessed Nirvana — sinless, stirless rest — 
 That change which never changes ! 
 
 Lo ! the Dawn 
 Sprang with Buddh's Victory ! lo ! in the 
 East
 
 JBooft tbe Sixtb. 171 
 
 Flamed the first fires of beauteous day, 
 
 poured forth 
 Through fleeting folds of Night's black drap- 
 ery. 
 High in the widening blue the herald-star 
 Faded to paler silver as there shot 
 Brighter and brightest bars of rosy gleam 
 Across the grey. Far off the shadowy hills 
 Saw the great Sun, before the world was 
 
 'ware, 
 And donned their crowns of crimson ; flower 
 
 by flower 
 Felt the warm breath of Morn and 'gan un- 
 fold 
 Their tender lids. Over the spangled grass 
 Swept the swift footsteps of the lovely Light, 
 Turning the tears of Night to joyous gems. 
 Decking the earth with radiance, 'broidering 
 The sinking storm-clouds with a golden fringe. 
 Gilding the feathers of the palms, which 
 
 waved 
 Glad salutation ; darting beams of gold 
 Into the glades ; touching with magic wand 
 The stream to rippled ruby ; in the brake 
 Finding the mild eyes of the antelopes 
 And saying " It isMay ; " in nested sleep 
 Touching the small heads under many a wing
 
 172 ^hc %\Qbt of Bsia. 
 
 And whispering, " Children, praise the light 
 
 of day!" 
 Whereat there piped anthems of all the birds, 
 The Koil's fluted song, the Bulbul's hymn, 
 The " morning, morning " of the painted 
 
 thrush, 
 The twitter of the sunbirds starting forth 
 To find the honey ere the bees be out, 
 The grey crow's caw, the parrot's scream, the 
 
 strokes 
 Of the green hammersmith, the myna's chirp, 
 The never finished love-talk of the doves : 
 Yea ! and so holy was the influence 
 Of that high Dawn which came with victory 
 That, far and near, in homes of men there 
 
 spread 
 An unknown peace. The slayer hid his 
 
 knife ; 
 The robber laid his plunder back ; the shroff 
 Counted' full tale of coins ; all evil hearts 
 Grew gentle, kind hearts gentler, as the balm 
 Of that divinest Daybreak lightened Earth. 
 Kings at fierce war called truce ; the sick man 
 
 leaped 
 Laughing from beds of pain ; the dying smiled 
 As though they knew that happy Morn was 
 
 sprung
 
 JBooft tbe Siitb. 173 
 
 From fountains farther than the utmost East ; 
 And o'er the heart of sad Yasodhara, 
 Sitting forlorn at Prince Siddartha's bed, 
 Came sudden bliss, as if love should not fail 
 Nor such vast sorrow miss to end in joy. 
 So glad the World was — though it wist not 
 
 why — 
 That over desolate wastes went swooning 
 
 songs 
 Of mirth, the voice of bodiless Prets and 
 
 Bhuts 
 Foreseeing Buddh ; and Devas in the air 
 Cried " It is finished, finished ! " and the 
 
 priests 
 Stood with the wandering people in the 
 
 streets 
 Watching those golden splendors flood the 
 
 sky 
 And saying " There hath happed some mighty 
 
 thing." 
 Also in Ran and Jungle grew that day 
 Friendship amongst the creatures ; spotted 
 
 deer 
 Browsed fearless where the tigress fed her 
 
 cubs. 
 And cheetahs lapped the pool beside the 
 
 bucks :
 
 174 ^bc Xi^bt ot Bsla. 
 
 Under the eagle's rocks the brown hares 
 
 scoured 
 While his fierce beak but preened an idle 
 
 wing ; 
 The snake sunned all his jewels in the beam 
 With deadly fangs in sheath •, the shrike let 
 
 pass 
 The nestling-finch ; the emerald halcyons 
 Sate dreaming while the fishes played be- 
 neath, 
 Nor hawked the merops, though the butter- 
 flies — 
 Crimson and blue and amber — flitted thick 
 Around his perch ; the Spirit of our Lord 
 Lay potent upon man and bird and beast, 
 Even while he mused under that Bodhi-tree 
 Glorified with the Conquest gained for all 
 And lightened by a Light greater than Day's. 
 
 Then he arose — radiant, rejoicing, strong — 
 Beneath the Tree, and lifting high his voice 
 Spake this, in hearing of all Times and 
 Worlds :— 
 
 A nekaj'dtisangsdraiig 
 Sandhdwissajig anihhisang 
 Gahakdrakajigawesanto 
 Dukkhdjdiipunappunang
 
 36oo}{ tbe Siitb. 175 
 
 GahakarakadiihSsi ; 
 Piaiageliang fiakdhasi ; 
 Sahhdtephd sukhdbhaggd, 
 Gahakuta7igwisang khitang ; 
 Wisangklidragdtang cliittang ; 
 Ja n hdna ngkhaya ??t ajh agd. 
 
 Many a House of Life 
 Hath held me — seeking ever him whq 
 
 WROUGHT 
 
 These prisons of the senses, sorrow- 
 fraught ; 
 Sore was my ceaseless strife ! 
 
 But now, 
 Thou Builder of this Tabernacle — Thou ! 
 I KNOW Thee ! Never shalt thou buili> 
 again 
 These walls of pain. 
 Nor raise the roof-tree of deceits, nor 
 lay 
 Fresh rafters on the clay ; 
 Broken thy house is, and the ridge-pole, 
 
 SPLIT ! 
 
 Delusion fashioned it ! 
 Safe pass I thence — deliverance to ob- 
 tain.
 
 176 ^bc Xigbt ot Bsia. 
 
 4 
 
 Sorrowful dwelt the King Suddhodana 
 
 All those long years among the Sakya Lords 
 
 Lacking the speech and presence of his Son ; 
 
 Sorrowful sate the sweet Yasodhara 
 
 -All those long years, knowing no joy of life, 
 
 Widowed of him her living Liege and Prince 
 
 And ever, on the news of some recluse 
 
 Seen far away by pasturing camel-men 
 
 Or traders threading devious paths for gain, 
 
 -Messengers from the King had gone and 
 
 come 
 Bringing account of many a holy sage 
 Lonely and lost to home ; but nought of him 
 The crown of white Kapilavastu's line. 
 The glory of her monarch and his hope. 
 The heart's content of sweet Yasodhara, 
 Par-wandered now, forgetful, changed, or 
 
 dead. 
 
 But on a day in the Wasanta-time, 
 When silver sprays swing on the mango 
 trees
 
 :©ooft tbe Seventh* 
 
 177 
 
 And all the earth is clad with garb of spring, 
 The Princess sate by that bright garden- 
 stream 
 Whose gliding glass, bordered with lotus-cups, 
 Mirrored so often in the bliss gone by 
 Their clinging hands and meeting lips. Her 
 
 lids 
 Were wan with tears, her tender cheeks had 
 
 thinned ; 
 Her lips' delicious curves were drawn with 
 
 grief ; 
 The lustrous glory of her hair was hid — 
 Close bound as widows use ; no ornament 
 She wore, nor any jewel clasped the cloth — 
 Coarse, and of mourning-white — crossed on 
 
 her breast 
 Slow moved and painfully those small fine 
 
 feet 
 Which had the roe's gait and the rose-leaf's 
 
 fall 
 In old years at the loving voice of him. 
 Her eyes, those lamps of love, — which were 
 
 as if 
 Sunlight should shine from out the deepest 
 
 dark. 
 Illumining Night's peace with Daytime^s 
 
 glow — 
 12
 
 178 ^be Xiflbt of Bsia, 
 
 Unlighted now, and roving aimlessly, 
 
 Scarce marked the clustering signs of coming 
 
 Spring 
 So the silk lashes drooped over their orbs. 
 In one hand was a girdle thick with pearls, 
 Siddartha's — treasured since that night he 
 
 fled— 
 (Ah, bitter Night ! mother of weeping days ! 
 When was fond Love so pitiless to love 
 Save that this scorned to limit love by life ?) 
 The other led her little son, a boy 
 Divinely fair the pledge Siddartha left — 
 Named Rahula — now seven years old, who 
 
 tripped 
 Gladsome beside his mother, light of heart 
 To see the spring-blooms burgeon o'er the 
 
 world. 
 
 So while they lingered by the lotus-pools 
 And, lightly laughing, Rahula flung rice 
 To feed the blue and purple fish ; and she 
 With sad eyes watched the swiftly-flying 
 
 cranes, 
 Sighing, " Oh ! creatures of the wandering 
 
 wing, 
 If ye shall light where my dear Lord is hid, 
 Say that Yasodhara lives nigh to death
 
 :©oo?i tbe Seventb. 179 
 
 For one word of his mouth, one touch of 
 
 him ! "— 
 So, as they played and sighed — mother and 
 
 child- 
 Came some among the damsels of the Court 
 Saying, " Great Princess ! there have entered 
 
 in 
 At the south gate merchants of Hastinpur 
 Tripusha called and Bhalluk, men of worth, 
 Long travelled from the loud sea's edge, who 
 
 bring 
 Marvellous lovely webs pictured with gold, 
 Waved blades of gilded steel, wrought bowls 
 
 in brass, 
 Cut ivories, spice, simples, and unknown 
 
 birds, 
 Treasures of far-off peoples ; but they bring 
 That which doth beggar these, for He is seen ! 
 Thy Lord, — our Lord, — the hope of all the 
 
 land — 
 Siddartha ! they have seen him face to face, 
 Yea, and have w^orshipped him with knees and 
 
 brows, 
 And offered offerings ; for he is become 
 All which was shown, a teacher of the wise, 
 World-honored, holy, wonderful ; a Buddh 
 Who doth deliver men and save all flesh
 
 i8o XLbc XlQbt of Bsla. 
 
 By sweetest speech and pity vast as Heaven : 
 And, lo ! he journeyeth hither these do say." 
 
 Then — while the glad blood bounded in her 
 
 veins 
 As Gunga leaps when first the mountain 
 
 snows 
 Melt at her springs — uprose Yasodhara 
 And clapped her palms, and laughed, with 
 
 brimming tears 
 Beading her lashes. " Oh ! call quick," she 
 
 cried: 
 " These merchants to my purdah, for mine 
 
 ears 
 Thirst like parched throats to drink their 
 
 blessed news. 
 Go bring them in, — but if their tale be true, 
 Say I will fill their girdles with much gold, 
 With gems that Kings shall envy : come ye 
 
 too. 
 My girls, for ye shall have guerdon of this 
 If there be gifts to speak my grateful heart." 
 
 So went those merchants to the Pleasure- 
 House, 
 Full softly pacing through its golden ways 
 With naked feet, amid the peering maids,
 
 JSooft tbe Sevcntb. i8i 
 
 Much wondering at the glories of the Court. 
 Whom, when they came without the purdah's 
 
 folds, 
 A voice, tender and eager, filled and charmed 
 With trembling music, saying, " Ye are come 
 From far, fair Sirs ! and ye have seen my 
 
 Lord — 
 Yea, worshipped — for he is become a Buddh, 
 World-honored, holy, and delivers men. 
 And journeyeth hither. Speak!, for, if this 
 
 be, 
 Friends are ye of my House, welcome and 
 
 dear." 
 
 Then answer made Tripusha, "We have 
 
 seen 
 That sacred Master, Princess ! we have bowed. 
 Before his feet ; for who was lost a Prince 
 Is found a greater than the King of kings. 
 Under the Bodhi tree by Phalgu's bank 
 That which shall save the world hath late been 
 
 wrought 
 By him — the Friend of all, the Prince of all — 
 Thine most. High Lady ! from whose tears 
 
 men win 
 The comfort of this Word the Master speaks. 
 Lo ! he is well, as one beyond all ills,
 
 i82 ^be Xlgbt of Bsia. 
 
 Uplifted as a god from earthly woes, 
 Shining with risen Truth, golden and clear. 
 Moreover as he entereth town by town. 
 Preaching those noble ways which lead to 
 
 peace, 
 The hearts of men follow his path as leaves 
 Troop to wind or sheep draw after one 
 Who knows the pastures. We ourselves have 
 
 heard 
 By Gay a in the green Tchirnika grove 
 Those wondrous lips and done them reverence : 
 He cometh hither ere the first rains fall." 
 
 Thus spake he, and Yasodhara, for joy, 
 Scarce mastered breath to answer, " Be it well 
 Now and at all times with ye, worthy friends ! 
 Who bring good tidings ; but of this great thing 
 Wist ye how it befell } " 
 
 Then Bhalluk told 
 Such as the people of the valleys knew 
 Of that dread night of conflict, w^hen the air 
 Darkened with fiendish shadows, and the earth 
 Quaked, and the waters swelled with Mara's 
 
 wrath. 
 Also how gloriously that morning broke 
 Radiant with rising hopes for man, and how 
 The Lord was found rejoicing 'neath his Tree.
 
 asooft tbe Scventb 183 
 
 But many days the burden of release — 
 To be escaped beyond all storms of doubt, 
 Safe on Truth's shore — lay, spake he, on that 
 
 heart 
 A golden load ; for how shall men — Buddh. 
 
 mused — 
 Who love their sins and cleave to cheats of 
 
 sense, 
 And drink of error from a thousand springs — 
 Having no mind to see, nor strength to break 
 The fleshly snare which binds them— how 
 
 should such 
 Receive the Twelve Nidanas and the Law 
 Redeeming all, yet strange to profit by. 
 As the caged bird oft shuns its opened door ? 
 So had we missed the helpful victory 
 If, in this earth without a refuge, Buddh 
 Winning the way, had deemed it all too hard 
 For mortal feet, and passed, none following 
 
 him. 
 Yet pondered the compassion of our Lord, 
 But in that hour there range a voice as sharp 
 As cry of travail, so as if the earth 
 Moaned in birth-throe " Nasyami aham bhii 
 Nasyati Ibka I'' Surely I am lost, 
 I AND MY CREATURES : then a pause, and next 
 A pleading sigh borne on the western wind,
 
 1 84 ^bc Xigbt of Bsla, 
 
 " Sruyatani d/iar?jia Bhagzvat ! " Oh, Su- 
 preme ! 
 Let thy great Law be uttered ! Where- 
 upon 
 The Master cast his vision forth on flesh, 
 Saw who should hear and who must wait to 
 
 hear, 
 As the keen Sun gilding the lotus-lakes 
 Seeth which buds will open to his beams 
 And which are not yet risen from their roots ; 
 Then spake, divinely smiling, " Yea ! I preach ! 
 Whoso will listen let him learn the Law." 
 
 Afterwards passed he, said they, by the hills 
 Unto Benares, where he taught the Five, 
 Showing how birth and death should be de- 
 stroyed, 
 And how man hath no fate except past deeds, 
 No Hell but what he makes, no Heaven too 
 high [dued. 
 
 For those to reach whose passions sleep sub- 
 This was the fifteenth day of Vaishya 
 Mid-afternoon and that night was full moon. 
 
 But, of the Rishis, first Kaundinya 
 Owned the Four Truths and entered on the 
 Paths :
 
 JBoofi tbc Seventb. 185 
 
 And after him Bhadraka, Asvajit, 
 
 Basava, ]\Iahanama ; also there 
 
 Within the Deer-park, at the feet of Buddh, 
 
 Yasad the Prince with nobles fifty-four 
 
 Hearing the blessed word our Master spake 
 
 Worshipped and followed ; for there sprang 
 
 up peace 
 And knowledge of a new time come for men 
 In all who heard, as spring the flowers and 
 
 grass 
 When water sparkles through a sandy plain. 
 
 These sixty — said they — did our Lord send 
 
 forth 
 Made perfect in restraint and passion free. 
 To teach the Way; but the World-honored 
 
 turned 
 South from the Deer-park and Isipatan 
 To Yashti and King Bimbasara's realm, 
 Where many days he taught ; and after 
 
 these 
 King Bimbasara and his folk believed, 
 Learning the law of love and ordered life. 
 Also he gave the Master, of free gift, — 
 Pouring forth water on the hands of Buddh— 
 The Bamboo-Garden, named Weluvana,
 
 i86 ^bc Xfgbt ot 2lsia. 
 
 Wherein are streams and caves and lovely 
 
 glades ; 
 And the King set a stone there, carved with 
 
 this :— 
 
 Yi dhari?ia hetuppabhawd 
 
 Yesan hettm Tathdgatb ; 
 Aha yesafi cha yo ttirodhb 
 Ewan wadi Maha saiJiano ^ 
 
 ** What life's course and cause sustain 
 These Tathagato made plain ; 
 What delivers from life's woe 
 That our Lord hath made us know." 
 
 And, in that Garden — said they — there was 
 
 held 
 A high Assembly, where the Teacher spake 
 Wisdom and power, winning all souls which 
 
 heard, 
 So that nine hundred took the yellow robe — 
 Such as the Master wears, — and spread his 
 
 Law; 
 And this the gatha was wherewith he closed :—« 
 
 Sabba pdpassa akaranaii ; 
 Kiisalassa upassampadd : 
 Sa chitta pariyodapana?i ; 
 Etan Budhdnusdsaiian.
 
 JSooft tbc Seventb. 187 
 
 " Evil swells the debts to pay, 
 Good delivers and acquits ; 
 Shun evil, follow good ; hold sway 
 Over thyself. This is the Way." 
 
 Whom, when they ended, speaking so of him, 
 
 With gifts, and thanks which made the jewels 
 dull, 
 
 The Princess recompensed. " But by what 
 road 
 
 Wendeth my Lord ? " she asked : the mer- 
 chants said, 
 
 " Yojans threescore stretch from the city-walls 
 To Rajagriha, whence the easy path 
 Passeth by Sona hither and the hills. 
 Our oxen, treading eight slow koss a day, 
 Came in one moon." 
 
 Then the King hearing word, 
 Sent nobles of the Court — well-mounted 
 
 lords — 
 Nine separate messengers, each embassy 
 Bidden to say, " The King Suddhodana — 
 Nearer the pyre by seven long years of lack. 
 Wherethrough he hath not ceased to seek for 
 
 thee —
 
 i88 ^be XiQbt of Bsia. 
 
 Prays of his son to come unto his own, 
 
 The Throne and people of this longing Realm, 
 
 JLest he shall die and see thy face no more." 
 
 Also nine horsemen sent Yasodhara 
 
 Bidden to say, " The Princess of thy House — 
 
 Rahula's mother — craves to see thy face 
 
 As the night-blowing moon-flower's swelling 
 
 heart 
 Pines for the moon, as pale asoka-buds 
 Wait for a woman's foot : if thou hast found 
 More than was lost, she prays her part in this, 
 Rahula's part, but most of all thyself." 
 So sped the Sakya Lords, but it befell 
 That each one, with the message in his mouth 
 Entered the Bamboo-Garden in that hour 
 AVhen Buddha taught his Law ; and — hearing 
 
 — each 
 Porgot to speak, lost thought of King and 
 
 quest, 
 Of the sad Princess even ; only gazed 
 Eye-rapt upon the Master ; only hung 
 Heart-caught upon the speech, compassionate, 
 Commanding, perfect, pure, enlightening all, 
 Poured from those sacred lips. Look ! like a 
 
 bee 
 Winged for the hive, who sees the mogras 
 
 spread
 
 :SBoo\{ the Seventb* 189 
 
 And scents their utter sweetness on the air, 
 If he be honey- tilled, it matters not ; 
 If night be nigh, or rain, he will not heed; 
 Needs must he light on those delicious blooms 
 And drain their nectar ; so these messengers 
 One with another,* hearing Buddha's words, 
 Let go the purpose of their speed, and mixed, 
 Heedless of all, amid the Master's train. 
 Wherefore the King bade that Udayi go — 
 Chiefest in all the Court, and faithfullest, 
 Siddartha's playmate in the happier days — 
 Who, as he drew anear the garden, plucked 
 Blown tufts of tree-wool from the grove and 
 
 sealed 
 The entrance of his hearing ; thus he came 
 Safe through the lofty peril of the place 
 And told the message of the King, and hers. 
 
 Then meekly bowed his head and spake our 
 Lord 
 Before the people, " Surely I shall go ! 
 It is my duty as it was my will ; 
 Let no man miss to render reverence 
 To those who lend him life, whereby come 
 
 means 
 To live and die no more, but safe attain 
 Blissful Nirvana, if ye keep the Law,
 
 190 ^bc Xlgbt ot Bsia. 
 
 Purging past wrongs and adding nought 
 
 thereto, 
 Complete in love and lovely charities. 
 Let the King know and let the Princess hear 
 I take the way forthwith." This told, the folk 
 Of white Kapilavastu and its fields 
 Made ready for the entrance of their Prince. 
 At the south gate a bright pavilion rose 
 With flower- wreathed pillars and the walls of 
 
 silk 
 Wrought on their red and green with woven 
 
 gold. 
 Also the roads were laid wath scented boughs 
 Of neem and mango, and full mussuks shed 
 Sandal and jasmine on the dust, and flags 
 Fluttered ; and on the day when he should 
 
 come 
 It was ordained how many elephants — 
 With silver howdahs and their tusks gold- 
 tipped — 
 Should wait beyond the ford, and where the 
 
 drums 
 Should boom " Siddartha cometh ! " where the 
 
 lords 
 Should light and worship, and the dancing-girls 
 Where they should strew their flowers with 
 
 dance and song,
 
 JBooft tbe Scventb. 191 
 
 So that the steed he rode might tramp knee- 
 deep 
 
 In rose and balsam, and the ways be fair ; 
 
 While the town rang with music and high joy. 
 
 This was ordained, and all men's ears were 
 pricked 
 
 Dawn after dawn to catch the first drum's 
 beat 
 
 Announcing, " Now he cometh ! " 
 
 But it fell- 
 Eager to be before — Yasodhara 
 Rode in her litter to the city-walls 
 Where soared the bright pavilion. All around 
 A beauteous garden smiled — Nigrodha 
 
 named — 
 Shaded with bel-trees and the green-plumed 
 
 dates, 
 New-trimmed and gay with winding walks and 
 
 banks 
 Of fruits and flowers ; for the southern road 
 Skirted its lawns, on this hand leaf and 
 
 bloom, 
 On that the suburb-huts where base-boms 
 
 dwelt 
 Outside the gates, a patient folk and poor, 
 Whose touch for Kshatriya and priest of 
 
 Brahm
 
 192 ^be XiQbt ot Bsia. 
 
 Were sore defilement. Yet those, too, were 
 
 quick 
 With expectation, rising ere the dawn 
 To peer along the road, to climb the trees 
 At far-off trumpet of some elephant. 
 Or stir of temple-drum ; and when none came, 
 Busied with lowly chares to please the Prince ; 
 Sweeping their door-stones, setting forth their 
 
 flags, 
 Stringing the fluted fig-leaves into chains, 
 New furbishing the Lingam, decking new 
 Yesterday's faded arch of boughs, but aye 
 Questioning wayfarers if any noise 
 Be on the road of great Siddartha. These 
 The Princess marked with lovely languid eyes. 
 Watching, as they, the southward plain, and 
 
 bent 
 Like them to listen if the passers gave 
 News of the path. So fell it she beheld 
 One slow approaching with his head close 
 
 shorn, 
 A yellow cloth over his shoulder cast. 
 Girt as the hermits are, and in his hand 
 An earthen bowl, shaped melonwise, the which 
 Meekly at each hut-door he held a space, 
 Taking the granted dole with gentle thanks 
 And all as gently passing where none gave.
 
 :©oo?i tbe Seventh* 193 
 
 Two followed him wearing the yellow robe, 
 But he who bore the bowl so lordly seemed, 
 So reverend, and with such a passage moved, 
 With so commanding presence filled the air, 
 With such sweet eyes of holiness smote all, 
 That, as they reached him alms the givers 
 
 gazed 
 Awestruck upon his face, and some bent down 
 In worship, and some ran to fetch fresh gifts 
 Grieved to be poor; till slowly, group by 
 
 group. 
 Children and men and women drew behind 
 Into his steps, whispering with covered lips, 
 ** Who is he ? who ? when looked a Rishi 
 
 thus? 
 But as he came with quiet footfall on 
 Nigh the pavilion, lo ! the silken door 
 Lifted, and, all unveiled, Yasodhara 
 Stood in his path crying, " Siddartha ! Lord ! " 
 With wide eyes streaming and with close- 
 clasped hands. 
 Then sobbing fell upon his feet, and lay. 
 
 Afterwards, when this weeping lady passed 
 Into the Noble Paths, and one had prayed 
 Answer from Buddha wherefore — being vowed 
 Quit of all mortal passion and the touch, 
 13
 
 194 ^t)c XiQbt ot Bsia 
 
 Flower-soft and conquering, of a woman's 
 
 hands — 
 He suffered such embrace, the Master said : 
 " Tlie greater beareth with the lesser love 
 So it may raise it unto easier heights. 
 Take heed that no man, being 'scaped from 
 
 bonds, 
 Vexeth bound souls with boasts of liberty. 
 Free are ye rather that your freedom spread 
 By patient winning and sweet wisdom's skill. 
 Three eras of long toil bring Bodhisats — 
 Who will be guides and help this darkling 
 
 world — 
 Unto deliverance, and the first is named 
 Of deep * Resolve,' the second of ' Attempt/ 
 The third of ' Nomination.* Lo ! I lived 
 In era of Resolve, desiring good, 
 Searching for wisdom, but mine eyes were 
 
 sealed. 
 Count the grey seeds on yonder castor-clump, 
 So many rains it is since I was Ram, 
 A merchant of the coast which looketh south 
 To Lanka and the hiding-place of pearls. 
 Also in that far time Yasodhara 
 Dwelt with me in our village by the sea, 
 Tender as now, and Lukshmi was her name. 
 And I remember how I journeyed thence
 
 JSooft tbe Seventb. 195 
 
 Seeking our gain, for poor the household was 
 And lowly. Not the less with wistful tears 
 She prayed me that I should not part, nor 
 
 tempt 
 Perils by land and water. ' How could love 
 Leave what it loved ? ' she wailed ; yet, ventur- 
 ing, I 
 Passed to the Straits, and after storm and toil 
 And deadly strife with creatures of the deep. 
 And woes beneath the midnight and the noon, 
 Searching the wave I won therefrom a pearl 
 Moonlike and glorious, such as Kings might 
 
 buy 
 Emptying their treasury. Then came I glad 
 Unto mine hills, but over all that land 
 Famine spread sore ; ill was I stead to live 
 In journey home, and hardly reached my 
 
 door — 
 Aching for food — with that white wealth of 
 
 the sea 
 Tied in my girdle. Yet no food was there ; 
 And on the threshold she for whom I toiled — 
 More than myself — lay with her speechless 
 
 lips 
 Nigh unto death for one small gift of grain. 
 Then cried I, ' If there be who hath of grain, 
 Here is a kingdom's ransom for one life :
 
 196 ^be Xfgbt of B5fa. 
 
 Give Lukshmi bread and take my moonlight 
 
 pearl.' 
 Whereat one brought the last of all his hoard, 
 Millet — three seers — and clutched the beau- 
 teous thing 
 But Lukshmi lived and sighed with gathered 
 
 life, 
 * Lo ! thou didst love indeed ! ' I spent my 
 
 pearl 
 Well in that life to comfort heart and mind 
 Else quite uncomforted, but these pure pearls, 
 My last large gain, won from a deeper wave — 
 The Twelve Nidanas and the Law of Good — 
 Cannot be spent, nor dimmed, and must fulfil 
 Their perfect beauty being freeliest given. 
 For like as is to Meru yonder hill 
 Heaped by the little ants, and like as dew 
 Dropped in the footmark of a bounding roe 
 Unto the shoreless seas, so was that gift 
 Unto my present giving ; and so love — 
 Vaster in being free from toils of sense — 
 Was wisest stooping to the weaker heart ; 
 And so the feet of sweet Yasodhara 
 Passed into peace and bliss, being softly led." 
 
 But when the King heard how Siddartha 
 came
 
 :JSooft tbe Seventb. 197 
 
 Shorn, with the mendicant's sad-colored cloth, 
 And stretching out a bowl to gather orts 
 From base-borns' leavings, wrathful sorrow 
 
 drove 
 Love from his heart. Thrice on the ground 
 
 he spat, 
 Plucked at his silvered beard, and strode 
 
 straight forth 
 Lackeyed by trembling lords. Frowning he 
 
 clomb 
 Upon his war-horse, drove the spurs, and 
 
 dashed, 
 Angered, though wondering streets and lanes 
 
 of folk. 
 Scarce finding breath to say, " The King ! 
 
 bow down ! " 
 Ere the loud cavalcade had clattered by : 
 Which — at the turning by the Temple-wall 
 Where the south gate was seen — encountered 
 
 full 
 A mighty crowd ; to every edge of it 
 Poured fast more people, till the roads were lost, 
 Blotted by that huge company which thronged 
 And grew, close following him whose look 
 
 serene 
 Met the old King's. Nor lived the father's 
 
 wrath
 
 198 Zbc XiQbt of B6ia. 
 
 Longer than while the gentle eyes of Buddh 
 Lingered in worship on his troubled brows, 
 Then downcast sank, with his true knee, to 
 
 earth 
 In proud humility. So dear it seemed 
 To see the Prince, to know him whole, to 
 
 mark 
 That glory greater than of earthly state 
 Crowning his head, that majesty which 
 
 brought 
 All men, so awed and silent in his steps. 
 Nathless the King broke forth, " Ends it in 
 
 this 
 That great Siddartha steals into his realm, 
 Wrapped in a clout, shorn, sandalled, craving 
 
 food 
 Of low-borns, he whose life was as a God's ? 
 My son ! heir of this spacious power, and heir 
 Of Kings who did but clap their palms to 
 
 have 
 What earth could give or eager service bring.? 
 Thou shouldst have come apparelled in thy 
 
 rank, 
 With shining spears and tramp of horse and 
 
 foot. 
 Lo ! all my soldiers camped upon the road. 
 And all my city waited at the gates ;
 
 :©ooft tbe Seventb. 199 
 
 Where hast thou sojourned through these evil 
 
 years 
 Whilst thy crowned father mourned ? and she, 
 
 too, there 
 Lived as the widows use, foregoing joys ; 
 Never once hearing sound of song or string. 
 Nor wearing once the festal robe, till now 
 When in her cloth of gold she welcomes home 
 A beggar spouse in yellow remnants clad. 
 Son ! why is this ? " 
 
 " My Father ! " came reply, 
 " It is the custom of my race." 
 
 " Thy race," 
 Answered the King " counteth a hundred 
 
 thrones 
 From Maha Sammat, but no deed like this." 
 
 " Not of a mortal line," the Master said, 
 " I spake, but of descent invisible. 
 The Buddhas who have been and who shall 
 
 be: 
 Of these am I, and what they did I do, 
 And this which now befalls so fell before 
 That at his gate a King in warrior-mail 
 Should meet his son, a Prince in hermit-weeds ; 
 And that, by love and self-control, being 
 
 more
 
 200 ^be %\Qbt of Bsia, 
 
 Than mightiest Kings in all their puissance, 
 The appointed Helper of the Worlds should 
 
 bow — 
 As now do I — and with all lowly love 
 Proffer, where it is owed for tender debts. 
 The first-fruits of the treasure he hath 
 
 brought ; 
 Which now I proffer." 
 
 Then the King amazed 
 Inquired " What treasure ? " and the Teacher 
 
 took 
 Meekly the royal palm, and while they paced 
 Through worshipping streets — the Princess 
 
 and the King 
 On either side — he told the things which 
 
 make 
 For peace and pureness, these Four noble 
 
 Truths 
 Which hold all wisdom as shores shut the 
 
 seas 
 Those eight right rules whereby who will may 
 
 walk — 
 Monarch or slave — upon the perfect Path 
 That hate its Stages Four and Precepts Eight, 
 Whereby whoso will live — mighty or mean 
 Wise or unlearned, man, woman, young or 
 
 old—
 
 3Bool!{ tbe Seventh* 201 
 
 Shall soon or late break from the wheels of 
 
 life 
 Attaining blest Nirvana. So they came 
 Into the Palace-porch, Suddhodana 
 With brows unknit drinking the mighty words, 
 And in his own hand carrying Buddha's bowl, 
 Whilst a new light brightened the lovely eyes 
 Of sweet Yasodhara and sunned her tears, 
 And that night entered they the Way of 
 
 Peace.
 
 202 ^be ILifibt ot B0ia« 
 
 g00fe the €i0litlt* 
 
 A BROAD mead spreads by swift Kohana's 
 
 bank 
 At Nagara ; five days shall bring a man 
 In ox-wain thither from Benares' shrines 
 Eastward and northward journeyed. The 
 
 horns 
 Of white Himala look upon the place, 
 Which all the year is glad with blooms and girt 
 By groves made green from that bright stream- 
 let's wave. 
 Soft are its slopes and cool its fragrant shades, 
 And holy all the spirit of the spot 
 Unto this time : the breath of eve comes 
 
 hushed 
 Over the tangled thickets, and high heaps 
 Of carved red stones cloven by root and stem 
 Of creeping fig, and clad with waving veil 
 Of leaf and grass. The still finake glistens 
 
 forth 
 From crumbled work of lacand cedar-beams 
 To coil his folds there on deep-graven slabs ;
 
 :<Boo?i tbe Eigbtb. 203 
 
 The lizard dwells and darts o'er painted 
 
 floors 
 Where Kings have paced ; the grey fox litters 
 
 safe 
 Under the broken thrones ; only the peaks, 
 And stream, and sloping lawns, and gentle air 
 Abide unchanged. All else, like all fair 
 
 shows 
 Of life, are fled — for this is where it stood, 
 The city of Suddhadana, the hill 
 Whereon, upon an eve of gold and blue 
 At sinking sun Lord Buddha set himself 
 To teach the Law in hearing of his own. 
 
 Lo ! ye shall read it in the Sacred Books 
 How, being met in that glad pleasaunce- 
 
 place — 
 A garden in old days with hanging walks, 
 Fountains, and tanks, and rose-banked ter- 
 races 
 Girdled by gay pavilions and the sweep 
 Of stately palace-fronts — the Master sate 
 Eminent, worshipped, all the earnest throng 
 Catching the opening of his lips to learn 
 The wisdom which hath made our Asia mild ; 
 Whereto four hundred crores of living souls 
 Witness this day. Upon the King's right hand
 
 204 ^be Xfgbt ot Bsla. 
 
 He sate, and round were ranged the Sakya 
 
 Lords 
 Ananda, Devadatta — all the Court. 
 Behind stood Seriyut and Mugallan, chiefs 
 Of the calm brethren in the yellow garb, 
 A goodly company. Between his knees 
 Rahula smiled with wondering childish eyes 
 Bent on the awful face, while at his feet 
 Sate sweet Yasodhara, her heartaches gone, 
 Foreseeing that fair love which doth not feed 
 On fleeting sense, that life which knows no 
 
 age. 
 That blessed last of deaths when Death is 
 
 dead. 
 His victory and hers. Wherefore she laid 
 Her hand upon his hands, folding around 
 Her silver shoulder-cloth his yellow robe, 
 Nearest in all the world to him whose words 
 The Three Worlds waited for. I cannot tell 
 A small part of the splendid lore which broke 
 From Buddha's lips : I am a late-come scribe 
 Who love the Master and his love of men. 
 And tell this legend, knowing he was wise. 
 But have not wit to speak beyond the books ; 
 And time hath blurred their script and an- 
 cient sense. 
 Which once was new and mighty, moving all.
 
 JBooft tbc Bigbtb. 205 
 
 A little of that large discourse I know 
 Which Buddha spake on the soft Indian eve. 
 Also I know it writ that they who heard 
 Were more — lakhs more — crores more — than 
 
 could be seen, 
 For all the Devas and the Dead thronged 
 
 there, 
 Till Heaven was emptied to the seventh zone 
 And uttermost dark Hells opened their bars ; 
 Also the daylight lingered past its time 
 In rose-leaf radiance on the w^atching peaks, 
 So that it seemed Night listened in the glens 
 And Noon upon the mountains ; yea ! they 
 
 write. 
 The evening stood between them like some 
 
 maid 
 Celestial, love-struck, rapt ; the smooth-rolled 
 
 clouds 
 Her braided hair ; the studded stars the 
 
 pearls 
 And diamonds of her coronal ; the moon 
 Her forehead-jewel, and the deepening dark 
 Her woven garments. 'Twas her close-held 
 
 breath 
 Which came in scented sighs across the lawns 
 W^hile our Lord taught, and, while he taught, 
 
 who heard —
 
 2o6 ^hc XlQbt of B6fa. 
 
 Though he were stranger in the land, or slave, 
 High caste or low, come of the Aryan blood, 
 Or Mlech or Jungle-dweller — seemed to hear 
 What tongue his fellow talked. Nay, outside 
 
 those 
 Who crowded by the river, great and small, 
 The birds and beasts and creeping things — 
 
 'tis writ — 
 Had sense of Buddha's vast embracing love 
 And took the promise of his piteous speech ; 
 So that their lives — prisoned in shape of ape, 
 Tiger, or deer, shagged bear, jackal, or wolf, 
 Foul-feeding kite, pearled dove, or peacock 
 
 gemmed. 
 Squat toad, or speckled serpent, lizard, bat ; 
 Yea, or of fish fanning the river-waves — 
 Touched meekly at the skirts of brotherhood 
 With man who hath less innocence than these ; 
 And in mute gladness knew their bondage 
 
 broke 
 Whilst Buddha spake these things before the 
 
 King :— 
 
 Om, amitaya ! measure not with words 
 
 Th' Immeasurable : nor sink the string of 
 thought
 
 :©ooft tbe Bi^btb* 207 
 
 Into the Fathomless. Who asks doth err, 
 Who answers, errs. Say nought ! 
 
 The Books teach Darkness was, at first of all, 
 And Brahm, sole meditating in that Night : 
 
 Look not for Brahm and the Beginning there ! 
 Nor him, nor any light. 
 
 Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, 
 Or any searcher know by mortal mind, 
 
 Veil after veil will lift — but there must be 
 Veil upon veil behind. 
 
 Stars sweep and question not. This is 
 enough 
 That life and death and joy and woe abide ; 
 And cause and sequence, and the course of 
 time, 
 And Being's ceaseless tide, 
 
 Which, ever-changing, runs, linked like a 
 river 
 By ripples following ripples, fast, or slow — 
 The same yet not the same — from far-off 
 fountain 
 To where its waters flow 
 
 Into the seas. These, steaming to the Sun, 
 Give the lost wavelets back in cloudy fleece
 
 2o8 tibe Xlsbt ot 2l0ia. 
 
 To trickle down the hills, and glide again ; 
 Having no pause or peace. 
 
 This is enough to know, the phantasms are ; 
 
 The Heavens, Earths, Worlds, and changes 
 changing them 
 A mighty whirling wheel of strife and stress 
 
 Which none can stay or stem. 
 
 Pray not ! the Darkness will not brighten ! 
 Ask 
 Nought from the Silence, for it cannot 
 speak ! 
 Vex not your mournful minds with pious 
 pains ! 
 Ah ! Brothers, Sisters ! seek 
 
 Nought from the helpless gods by gift and 
 hymn. 
 Nor bribe with blood, nor feed with fruit 
 and cakes ; 
 Within yourselves deliverance must be sought ; 
 Each man his prison makes. 
 
 Each hath such lordship as the loftiest ones ; 
 
 Nay, for with Powers above, around, below, 
 As with all flesh and whatsoever lives, 
 
 Act maketh joy and woe.
 
 :fi5ooft tbe JBiQbtb* 209 
 
 What hath been bringeth what shall be, and is, 
 Worse — better — last for first and first for 
 last ; 
 
 The Angels in the Heavens of Gladness reap 
 Fruits of a holy past. 
 
 The devils in the underworlds wear out 
 
 Deeds that were wicked in an age gone by. 
 
 Nothing endures ; fair virtues waste with time, 
 Foul sins grow purged thereby. 
 
 Who toiled a slave may come anew a Prince 
 For gentle worthiness and merit won ; 
 
 AVho ruled a King may wander earth in rags 
 For things done and undone. 
 
 Higher than Indra's ye may lift your lot, 
 And sink it lower than the worm or gnat ; 
 
 The end of many myriad lives is this, 
 The end of myriads that. 
 
 Only, while turns this wheel invisible. 
 
 No pause, no peace, no staying-place can be ; 
 
 "Who mounts will fall, who falls may mount ; 
 the spokes 
 Go round unceasingly ! 
 
 14
 
 210 trbe %iQbt of Bsia. 
 
 If ye lay bound upon the wheel of change, 
 And no way were of breaking from the chain, 
 
 The Heart of boundless Being is a curse, 
 The Soul of Things fell Pain. 
 
 Ye are not bound ! the Soul of Things is sweet. 
 The Heart of Being is celestial rest ; 
 
 Stronger than woe is will : that which was 
 Good 
 Doth pass to Better — Best. 
 
 I,. Buddh, who wept with all my brothers' tears, 
 Whose heart was broken by a whole world's 
 woe, 
 
 Laugh and am glad, for there is Liberty ! 
 Ho ! ye who suffer ! know 
 
 Ye suffer from yourselves. None else compels,, 
 None other holds you that ye live and die, 
 
 And whirl upon the wheel, and hug and kiss 
 Its spokes of agony, 
 
 Its tire of tears, its nave of nothingness. 
 
 Behold, I show you Truth ! Lower than 
 hell, 
 Higher than heaven^ outside the utmost stars, 
 
 Farther than Brahm doth dwell
 
 3i5ooft tbe JBiQbtb. 2n 
 
 Before beginning, and without an end, 
 As space eternal and as surety sure, 
 
 Is fixed a Power divine which moves to good, 
 Only its laws endure. 
 
 This is its touch upon the blossomed rose. 
 The fashion of its hand shaped lotus-leaves; 
 
 In dark soil and the silence of the seeds 
 The robe of Spring it weaves ; 
 
 That is its painting on the glorious clouds. 
 And these its emeralds on the peacock's 
 train ; 
 
 It hath its stations in the stars; its slaves 
 In lightning, wind, and rain. 
 
 Out of the dark it wrought the heart of man, 
 Out of dull shells the pheasant's pencilled 
 neck; 
 
 Ever at toil, it brings to loveliness 
 All ancient wrath and wreck. 
 
 The grey eggs in the golden sun-bird's nest 
 Its treasures are, the bees' six-sided cell 
 
 Its honey-pot ; the ant wots of its ways, 
 The white doves know them well. 
 
 It spreadeth forth for flight the eagle's wings 
 What time she beareth home her prey ; it 
 sends
 
 212 ^bc Xigbt of Bsia. 
 
 The she-wolf to her cubs ; for unloved things 
 It findeth food and friends. 
 
 It is not marred nor stayed in any use, 
 
 All liketh it ; the sweet white milk it brings 
 
 To mothers' breasts ; it brings the white drops, 
 too, 
 Wherewith the young snake stings. 
 
 The ordered music of the marching orbs 
 It makes in viewless canopy of sky ; 
 
 In deep abyss of earth it hides up gold, 
 Sards, sapphires, lazuli. 
 
 Ever and ever bringing secrets forth, 
 It sitteth in the green of forest-glades 
 
 Nursing strange seedlings at the cedar's root, 
 Devising leaves, blooms, blades. 
 
 It slayeth and it saveth, nowise moved 
 Except unto the working out of doom ; 
 
 Its threads are Love and Life ; and Death 
 and Pain 
 The shuttles of its loom. 
 
 It maketh and unmaketh, mending all ; 
 
 What it hath wrought is better than hath 
 been ; 
 Slow grows the splendid pattern that it plans 
 
 Its wistful hands between.
 
 JSooft tbe JEiabtb. 213 
 
 This is its work upon the things ye see, 
 
 The unseen things are more ; men's hearts 
 and minds, 
 The thoughts of peoples and their ways and 
 wills. 
 Those, too, the great Law binds. 
 
 Unseen it helpeth ye with faithful hands, 
 Unheard it speaketh stronger than the storm, 
 
 Pity and Love are man's because long stress 
 Moulded blind mass to form. 
 
 It will not be contemned of any one ; 
 
 Who thwarts it loses, and who serves it 
 gains ; 
 The hidden good it pays with peace and bliss, 
 
 The hidden ill with pains. 
 
 It seeth everywhere and marketh all ; 
 
 Do right — itrecompenseth ! do one wrong — 
 The equal retribution must be made. 
 
 Though Dharma tarry long. 
 
 It knows not wrath nor pardon ; utter-true 
 Its measures mete, its faultless balance 
 weighs ; 
 
 Times are as nought, to-morrow it will judge, 
 Or after many days.
 
 214 ^be %iQbt of Bsla. 
 
 By this the slayer's knife did stab himself ; 
 
 The unjust judge hath lost his own defender ; 
 The false tongue dooms its lie ; the creeping 
 thief 
 
 And spoiler rob, to render. 
 
 Such is the Law which moves to righteousness, 
 Which none at last can turn aside or stay ; 
 
 The heart of it is Love, the end of it 
 
 Is Peace and Consummation sweet. Obey ! 
 
 The Books say well, my Brothers ! each man's 
 life 
 The outcome of his former living is ; 
 The bygone wrongs bring forth sorrows and 
 woes 
 The bygone right breeds bliss. 
 
 That which ye sow ye reap. See yonder 
 fields ! 
 The sesamum was sesamum, the corn 
 Was corn. The Silence and the Darkness 
 knew ! 
 So is a man's fate born. 
 
 He Cometh, reaper of the things he sowed, 
 Sesamum, corn, so much cast in past birth ,
 
 :fi3ooft tbe Bisbtb. 215 
 
 And so much weed and poison-stuff, which mar 
 Him and the aching earth. 
 
 If he shall labor rightly, rooting these, 
 
 And planting wholesome seedlings where 
 they grew, 
 
 Fruitful and fair and clean the ground shall be^ 
 And rich the harvest due. 
 
 If he who liveth, learning whence woe springs, 
 Endureth patiently, striving to pay 
 
 His utmost debt for ancient evils done 
 In Love and Truth alway ; 
 
 If making none to lack, he thoroughly purge 
 The lie and lust of self forth from his blood ; 
 
 Suffering all meekly, rendering for offence 
 Nothing but grace and good : 
 
 If he shall day by day dwell merciful, 
 
 Holy and just and kind and true ; and rend 
 
 Desire from where it clings with bleeding 
 roots. 
 Till love of life have end : 
 
 He — dying — leaveth as the sum of him 
 
 A life-count closed, whose ills are dead and 
 quit,
 
 2i6 ^bc Xigbt ot Bsia. 
 
 Whose good is quick and mighty, far and near, 
 So that fruits follow it. 
 
 No need hath such to live as ye name life ; 
 
 That which began in him when he began 
 Is finished : he hath wrought the purpose 
 through 
 
 Of what did make him Alan. 
 
 Never shall yearnings torture him, nor sins 
 Stain him, nor ache of earthly joys and woes 
 
 Invade his safe eternal peace ; nor deaths 
 And lives recur. He goes 
 
 Unto Nirvana. He is one with Life 
 
 Yet lives not. He is blest, ceasing to be. 
 
 Om, mani padme, om ! the Dewdrop slips 
 Into the shinino: sea ! 
 
 This is the doctrine of the Karma. Learn ! 
 
 Only when all the dross of sin is quit, 
 Only when life dies like a white flame spent 
 
 Death dies along with it. 
 
 Say not '• I am," " I was," or " I shall be," 
 Think not ye pass from house to house of 
 flesh
 
 :iSoo\{ tbeBigbtt). * 217 
 
 Like travellers who remember and forget, 
 Ill-lodged or well-lodged. Fresh 
 
 Issues upon the Universe that sum 
 
 Which is the lattermost of lives. It makes 
 
 Its habitation as the worm spins silk 
 And dwells therein. It takes 
 
 Function and substance as the snake's egg 
 hatched 
 Takes scale and fang; as feathered reed- 
 seeds fly 
 O'er rock and loam and sand, until they find 
 Their marsh and multiply. 
 
 Also it issues forth to help or hurt. 
 
 When Death the bitter murderer doth smite^ 
 Red roams the unpurged fragment of him^ 
 driven 
 
 On wings of plague and blight. 
 
 But when the mild and just die, sweet airs 
 breathe 
 
 The world grows richer, as if desert-stream 
 Should sink away to sparkle up again 
 
 Purer, with broader gleam. 
 
 So merit won winneth the happier age 
 Which by demerit halteth short of end ;
 
 2i8 ^be XlQbt of B6la. 
 
 Yet must this Law of Love reign King of all 
 Before the Kalpas end. 
 
 What lets ? — Brothers ! the Darkness lets ! 
 which breeds 
 Ignorance, mazed whereby ye take these 
 shows 
 For true, and thirst to have, and, having, cling 
 To lusts which work you woes. 
 
 Ye that will tread the Middle Road, whose 
 course 
 Bright Reason traces and soft Quiet 
 smoothes ; 
 Ye who will take the high Nirvana-way 
 List the Four Noble Truths. 
 
 The First Truth is of Sorrow. Be not 
 mocked ! 
 
 Life which ye prize is long-drawn agony : 
 Only its pains abide ; its pleasures are 
 
 As birds which light and fly. 
 
 Ache of the birth, ache of the helpless days. 
 Ache of hot youth and ache of manhood's 
 prime ; 
 
 Ache of the chill grey years and choking death, 
 These fill your piteous time.
 
 :©oo]ft tbe Bigbtb* 219 
 
 Sweet is fond Love, but funeral-flames must 
 kiss 
 The breasts wliich pillow and the lips which 
 cling ; 
 Gallant is warlike Might, but vultures pick 
 The joints of chief and King. 
 
 Beauteous is Earth, but all its forest-broods 
 Plot mutual slaughter, hungering to live ; 
 
 Of sapphire are the skies, but when men cry 
 Famished, no drops they give. 
 
 Ask of the sick, the mourners, ask of him 
 Who tottereth on his staff, lone and forlorn^ 
 
 "Likeththee hfe ? " — these say the babe is 
 wise 
 That weepeth, being born. 
 
 The Second Truth is Sorrow's Cause. What 
 grief 
 
 Springs of itself and springs not of Desire ? 
 Senses and things perceived mingle and light 
 
 Passion's quick spark of fire : 
 
 So flameth Trishna, lust and thirst of things. 
 
 Eager ye cleave to shadows, dote on dreams j 
 A false Self in the midst ye plant, and make 
 
 A world around which seems ;
 
 220 ^be %iQbt of Bsia. 
 
 Blind to the height beyond, deaf to the sound 
 Of sweet airs breathed from far past Indra's 
 sky; 
 
 Dumb to the summons of the true life kept 
 For him who false puts by. 
 
 So grow the strifes and lusts which make 
 earth's war, tears ; 
 
 So grieve poor cheated hearts and flow salt 
 So w'ax the passions, envies, angers, hates ; 
 
 So years chase blood-stained years 
 
 With wild red feet. So, where the grain should 
 grow. 
 Spreads the biran-weed with its evil root 
 And poisonous blossoms ; hardly good seeds 
 find 
 Soil where to fall and shoot ; 
 
 And drugged with jDoisonous drink the soul 
 departs, returns ; 
 
 And fierce with thirst to drink Karma 
 Sense-struck again the sodden self begins, 
 
 And new deceits it earns. 
 
 The Third is Sorroul's Ceasing. This is 
 peace 
 To conquer love of self and lust of life.
 
 JSoo!? tbe Bigbtb. 221 
 
 To tear deep-rooted passion from the breast, 
 To still the inward strife ; 
 
 For love to clasp Eternal Beauty close ; 
 
 For glory to be Lord of self, for pleasure 
 To live beyond the gods ; for countless 
 wealth 
 
 To lay up lasting treasure 
 
 Of perfect service rendered, duties done 
 In charity, soft speech, and stainless days : 
 
 These riches shall not fade away in life, 
 Nor any death dispraise. 
 
 Then Sorrow ends, for Life and Death have 
 ceased ; 
 How should lamps flicker when their oil is 
 spent ? 
 The old sad count is clear, the new is clean ; 
 Thus hath a man content. 
 
 The Fourth Truth is The Way. It openeth 
 wide. 
 
 Plain for all feet to tread, easy and near, 
 1\i^ Noble Eightfold Path ; it goeth straight 
 
 To peace and refuge. Hear !
 
 222 ^be XiQbt ot 2l0ia, 
 
 Manifold tracks lead to yon sister-peaks 
 Around whose snows the gilded clouds are 
 curled ; 
 
 By steep or gentle slopes the climber comes 
 Where breaks that other world. 
 
 Strong limbs may dare the rugged road which 
 storms, 
 Soaring and perilous, the mountain's breast ; . 
 The weak must wind from slower ledge to 
 ledge 
 With many a place of rest. 
 
 So is the Eightfold Path w^hich brings to 
 peace ; 
 
 By lower or by upper heights it goes. 
 The firm soul hastes, the feeble tarries. All 
 
 Will reach the sunlit snows. 
 
 The First good Level is Right Doctri7ie. Walk 
 In fear of Dharma, shunning all offence ; 
 
 In heed of Karma, which doth make man's 
 fate; 
 In lordship over sense. 
 
 The Second is Right Pu7-pose. Have good« 
 will 
 To all that lives, letting unkindness die
 
 :©ooft tbe JBigbtb. 223 
 
 And greed and wrath ; so that your lives be 
 made 
 Like soft airs passing by. 
 
 The Third is Right Discourse. Govern the 
 Hps 
 
 As they were palace-doors, the King within ; 
 Tranquil and fair and courteous be all words 
 
 Which from that presence win. 
 
 The Fourth is Right Behavior. Let each act 
 Assoil a fault or help a merit grow : 
 
 Like threads of silver seen through crystal 
 beads 
 Let love through good deeds show. 
 
 Pour higher roadways be. Only those feet 
 May tread them which have done with 
 earthly things ; 
 
 Right Purity, Right Thought, Right Loneliness^ 
 Right Rapture. Spread no wings 
 
 For sunward flight, thou soul with unplumed 
 vans ! 
 
 Sweet is the lower air and safe, and known 
 The homely levels : only strong ones leave 
 
 The nest each makes his own.
 
 224 ^be Xigbt of Bsia, 
 
 Dear is the love, I know, of Wife and Child ; 
 
 Pleasant the friends and pastimes of youl 
 years ; 
 Fruitful of good Life's gentle charities ; 
 
 False, though firm-set, its fears. 
 
 Live — ye who must — such lives as live on 
 these ; 
 Make golden stairways of your weakness j 
 rise 
 Ey daily sojourn with those phantasies 
 To lovelier verities. 
 
 So shall ye pass to clearer heights and find 
 Easier ascents and lighter loads of sins, 
 
 And larger will to burst the bonds of sense, 
 Entering the Path. Who wins 
 
 To such commencement hath the First Stage 
 touched ; 
 He knows the Noble Truths, the Eightfold 
 Road; 
 By few or many steps such shall attain 
 Nirvana's blest abode. 
 
 W^ho standeth at the Second Stage, made free 
 From doubts, delusions, and the inward 
 ^strife,
 
 JSoo?i tbe Bi0btb. 225 
 
 Lord of all lusts, quit of the priests and books, 
 Shall live but one more life. 
 
 Yet onward lies the Third Stage : purged and 
 pure 
 
 Hath grown the stately spirit here, hathrisen 
 To love all living things in perfect peace. 
 
 His life at end, life's prison 
 
 Is broken. Nay, there are who surely pass 
 Living and visible to utmost goal 
 
 By Fourth Stage of the Holy ones — the 
 Buddhs— 
 And they of stainless soul. 
 
 Lo ! like fierce foes slain by some warrior. 
 Ten sins along these Stages lie in dust. 
 
 The Love of Self, False Faith, and Doubt are 
 three. 
 Two more. Hatred and Lust. 
 
 Who of these Five is conqueror hath trod 
 Three stages out of Four : yet there abide 
 
 The Love of Life on earth. Desire forHeaven, 
 Self-Praise, Error, and Pride. 
 
 As one who stands on yonder snowy horn 
 Having nought o'er him but the boundless 
 blue, 
 15
 
 226 ^be Xlsbt ot Bsia, 
 
 So, these sins being slain, the man is come 
 Nirvana's verge unto 
 
 Him the Gods envy from their lower seats ; 
 
 Him the Three Worlds in ruin should not 
 shake ; 
 All life is lived for him, all deaths are dead ; 
 
 Karma will no more make 
 
 New houses. Seeking nothing, he gains all ; 
 
 Foregoing self, the Universe grows " I " : 
 If any teach NIRVANA is to cease, 
 
 Say unto such they lie. 
 
 If any teach NIRVANA is to live, 
 
 Say unto such they err ; not knowing this, 
 
 Nor what light shines beyond their broken 
 lamps. 
 Nor lifeless, timeless bliss. 
 
 Enter the Path ! There is no grief like Hate ! 
 
 No pains like passions, no deceit like sense I 
 Enter the Path ! far hath he gone whose foot 
 
 Treads down one fond offence. 
 
 Enter the Path ! There spring the healing 
 streams 
 Quenching all thirst ! there bloom th' im- 
 mortal flowers
 
 JBooft tbe Bicjbtb. 227 
 
 Carpeting all the way with joy ! there throng 
 Swiftest and sweetest hours 1 
 
 More is the treasure of the Law than gems ; 
 
 Sweeter than comb its sweetness ; its de- 
 lights 
 Delightful past compare. Thereby to live 
 
 Hear the Five Rules aright : — 
 
 Kill not^for Pity's sake — and lest ye slay 
 The meanest thing upon its upward way. 
 
 Give freely and receive, but take from none 
 By greed, or force or fraud, what is his own. 
 
 Bear not false witness, slander not, nor lie ; 
 Truth is the speech of inward purity. 
 
 Shun drugs and drinks which work the wit 
 
 abuse ; 
 Clear minds, clean bodies, need no Soma 
 
 juice. 
 
 Touch not thy neighbor's wife, neither commit 
 Sins of the flesh unlawful and unfit.
 
 22$ XLbc Xlgbt of Bsfa. 
 
 These words the Master spake of duties 
 
 due 
 To father, mother, children, fellows, friends ; 
 Teaching how such as may not swiftly break 
 The clinging chains of sense — whose feet arfe 
 
 weak 
 To tread the higher road — should order so 
 This life of flesh that all their hither days 
 Pass blameless in discharge of charities 
 And first true footfalls in the Eightfold Path ; 
 Living pure, reverent, patient, pitiful. 
 Loving all things which live even as them- 
 selves ; 
 Because what falls for ill is fruit of ill 
 Wrought in the past, and what falls well of 
 
 good; 
 And that by hov/somuch the householder 
 Purgeth himself of self and helps the world. 
 By so much happier comes he to next stage, 
 In so much bettered being. This he spake. 
 As also long before, when our Lord walked 
 By Rajagriha in the bamboo-grove : 
 For on a dawn he walked there and beheld 
 The householder Singala, newly bathed. 
 Bowing himself with bare head to the earth. 
 To Heaven, and all four quarters ; while he 
 threw
 
 :©oo?i tbe jEigbtb. 229 
 
 Rice, red and white, from both hands. 
 
 " Wherefore thus 
 Bowest thou, Brother ? " said the Lord ; and he, 
 " It is the way, Great Sir ! our fathers taught 
 At every dawn, before the toil begins, 
 To hold off evil from the sky above 
 And earth beneath, and all the winds which 
 
 blow." [rice, 
 
 Then the World-honored spake : " Scatter not 
 But offer loving thoughts and acts to all. 
 To parents as the East where rises light ; . 
 To teachers as the South whence rich gifts 
 
 come ; 
 To wife and children as the West where gleam 
 Colors of l&ve and calm, and all days end ; 
 To friends and kinsmen and all men as North ; 
 To humblest living things beneath, to Saints 
 And Angels and the blessed Dead above : 
 So shall all evil be shut off, and so 
 The six main quarters will be safely kept." 
 
 But to his own, them of the yellow robe — 
 They who, as wakened eagles, soar with scorn 
 From life's low vale, and wing towards the 
 
 Sun — 
 To these he taught the Ten Observances 
 The Dasa-SIL and how a mendicant
 
 :23o Zbe %iQbt ot 2l6ia. 
 
 Must know the Three Doors and the Triple 
 
 Thoughts ; 
 The Sixfold States of Mind ; the Fivefold 
 
 Powers ; 
 The Eight High Gates of Purity ; the Modes 
 Of Understanding ; Iddhi ; Upeksha ; 
 The Five Great Meditatio?is, which are food 
 Sweeter than Amrit for the holy soul ; 
 ^hefhana's and the Three Chief Refuges. 
 Also he taught his own how they should 
 
 dwell ; 
 How live, free from the snares of love and 
 
 wealth ; 
 What eat and drink and carry — three plain 
 
 cloths, — * [bare — 
 
 Yellow, of stitched stuff, worn with shoulder 
 A girdle, almsbowl, strainer. Thus he laid 
 The great foundations of our Sangha well, 
 That noble Order of the Yellow Robe 
 Which to this day standeth to help the World. 
 
 So all that night he spake, teaching the 
 Law : 
 And on no eyes fell sleep — for they who heard 
 Rejoiced with tireless joy. Also the King, 
 When this was finished, rose upon his throne 
 And with bared feet bowed low before his Son
 
 :©ooft tbc Bigbtb. 231 
 
 Kissing his hem ; and said, " Take me, O 
 
 Son! 
 Lowest and least of all thy Company." 
 And sweet Yasodhara, all happy now, — 
 Cried " Give to Rahula — thou Blessed One 
 The Treasure of the Kingdom of thy Word 
 For his inheritance." Thus passed these 
 
 Three 
 Into the Path. 
 
 Here endeth what I write 
 Who love the Master for his love of us. 
 A little knowing, little have I told 
 Touching the Teacher and the Ways of Peace. 
 Forty-five rains thereafter showed he those 
 In many lands and many tongues and gave 
 Our Asia light, that still is beautiful, 
 Conquering the world with spirit of strong 
 
 grace : 
 All which is written in the holy Books, 
 And where he passed and what proud Em- 
 perors 
 Carved his sweet words upon the rocks and 
 
 caves : 
 And how — in fulness of the times — it fell
 
 232 ^be Ulflbt ot Bafa. 
 
 The Buddha died, the great Tathagato, 
 Even as a man 'mongst men, fulfilling all : 
 And how a thousand thousand crores since 
 
 then 
 Have trod the Path which leads whither he 
 
 went 
 Unto Nirvana where the Silence lives. 
 
 Ah ! Blessed Lord ! Oh, High Deliverer I 
 Forgive this feeble script, which doth 
 
 thee wrong 
 Measuring with little wit thy lofty Love. 
 Ah ! Lover ! Brother ! Guide ! Lamp of the. 
 
 Law ! 
 i take my refuge in thy name and thee 1 
 
 1 TAKE MY REFUGE IN THY LaW OF GoOD ! 
 I TAKE MY REFUGE IN THY OrDER ! OM/ 
 
 The Dew is on the lotus ! — rise, Great 
 
 Sun ! 
 And lift my leaf and mix me with the 
 
 WAVE. 
 
 Om mani padme hum, the Sunrise comes I 
 The Dewdrop slips into the shining Sea !
 
 BY EDWIN ARNOLD. 
 
 He who died at Azan sends 
 This to comfort all his friends : 
 
 Faithful friends ! It lies, I know, 
 Pale 'and white and cold as sno\i; 
 And ye say, " Abdallah 's dead ! " 
 Weeping at the feet and head, 
 I can see your falling tears, 
 I can hear your sighs and prayers ; 
 Yet I smile and whisper this, — 
 " /am not the thing you kiss ; 
 Cease your tears, and let it lie ; 
 It was mine, it is not I." 
 
 Sweet friends ! What the women lave 
 For its last bed of the grave, 
 Is but a hut which I am quitting, 
 Is a garment no more fitting, 
 Is a cage from which, at last. 
 Like a hawk my soul hath passed. 
 Love the inmate, not the room, — 
 The wearer, not the garb,— the plume 
 
 233
 
 ^34 'BtXcx 2)eatb in Arabia. 
 
 Of the falcon, not the bars 
 
 Which kept him from those splendid stars* 
 
 Loving friends ! Be wise and dry 
 Straightway every weeping eye. — 
 What ye lift upon the bier 
 Is not worth a wistful tear. 
 'T is an empty sea-shell, — one 
 Out of which the pearl is gone ; 
 The shell is broken, it lies there ; 
 The pearl, the all, the soul, is here. 
 'T is an earthen jar, whose lid 
 Allah sealed, the while it hid 
 That treasure of his treasury, 
 A mind that loved him ; let it lie ! 
 Let the shard be earth's once more, 
 Since the gold shines in his store ! 
 
 Allah glorious ! Allah good ! 
 Now thy world is understood ; 
 Now the long, long wonder ends ; 
 Yet ye weep, my erring friends. 
 While the man whom ye call dead, 
 In unspoken bliss, instead. 
 Lives and loves you ; lost, 't is true. 
 By such light as shines for you ; 
 But in the light ye cannot see 
 Of unfulfilled felicity,—
 
 Uttct 2)eatb in Brabia. 
 
 In enlarging paradise, 
 Lives a life that never dies. 
 
 Farewell, friends ! Yet not farewell ; 
 Where I am, ye, too, shall dwell. 
 I am gone before your face, 
 A moment's time, a little space. 
 When ye come where I have stepped 
 Ye will wonder why ye wept ; 
 Ye will know, by wise love taught, 
 That here is all, and there is naught. 
 Weep awhile, if ye are fain, — 
 Sunshine still must follow rain ; 
 Only not at death, — for death. 
 Now I know, is that first breath 
 Which our souls draw when we enter 
 Life, which is of all life centre. 
 
 Be ye certain all seems love. 
 
 Viewed from Allah's throne above ; 
 
 Be ye stout of heart, and come 
 
 Bravely onward to your home ! 
 
 Za Allah ilia Allah ! yea ! 
 
 Thou love divine ! Thou love alway ! 
 
 He that died at Azan gave 
 
 This to those who made his grave. 
 
 235
 
 BY EDWIN ARNOLD. 
 
 ** She is dead ! " they said to him ; " come 
 
 away ; 
 Kiss her and leave her, — thy love is clay ! " 
 
 They smoothed her tresses of dark brown 
 
 hair; 
 On her forehead of stone they laid it fair ; 
 
 Over her eyes that gazed too much 
 They drew the lids with a gentle touch ; 
 
 With a tender touch they closed up well 
 The sweet thin lips that had secrets to tell ; 
 
 About her brows and beautiful face 
 They tied her veil and her marriage lace, 
 
 And drew on her white feet her white silk 
 
 shoes — 
 Which were the whitest no eye could choose — 
 
 And over her bosom they crossed her hands. 
 " Come away ! " they said ; " God under- 
 stands." 
 
 236
 
 *' Sbe and Ibe/' 237 
 
 And there was silence, and nothing there 
 But silence, and scents of eglantere, 
 
 And jasmine, and roses, and rosemary ; 
 
 And they said, " As a lady should lie, lies she." 
 
 And they held their breath till they left the 
 
 room, 
 With a shudder, to glance at its stillness and 
 
 gloom. 
 
 But he who lov'd her too well to dread 
 The sweet, the stately, the beautiful dead, 
 
 He lit his lamp and took the key 
 
 And turned it — alone again — he and she. 
 
 He and she ; but she would not speak, 
 Though he kissed, in the old place, the quiet 
 cheek. 
 
 He and she ; yet she would not smile, 
 Though he called her the name she loved ere- 
 while. 
 
 He and she ; still she did not move 
 To any one passionate whisper of love. 
 
 Then he said : " Cold lips and breasts without 
 
 breath. 
 Is there no voice, no language of death ?
 
 238 ** Sbc anD Ibe." 
 
 " Dumb to the ear and still to the sense, 
 But to heart and to soul distinct, intense ? 
 
 " See now; I will listen with soul, not ear; 
 What was the secret of dying, dear ? 
 
 " Was it the infinite wonder of all 
 
 That you ever could let life's flower fall ? 
 
 " Or was it a greater marvel to feel 
 The perfect calm o'er the agony steal ? 
 
 "Was the miracle greater to find how deep 
 Beyond all dreams sank downward that sleep ? 
 
 " Did life roll back its records dear. 
 And show, as they say it does, past things 
 clear ? 
 
 " And was it the innermost heart of the bliss 
 To find out so, what a wisdom love is ? 
 
 " O perfect dead ! O dead most .dear, 
 I hold the breath of my soul to hear ! 
 
 " I listen as deep as to horrible hell. 
 
 As high as to heaven, and you do not tell. 
 
 " There must be pleasure in dying, sweet, 
 To make you so placid from head to feet !
 
 ** Sbc anD 1bc/' 239 
 
 "I would tell you, darling, if I were dead, 
 And 'twere your hot tears upon my brow 
 shed, — 
 
 " I would say, though the Angel of Death had 
 
 laid 
 His sword on my lips to keep it unsaid. 
 
 " You should not ask vainly, with streaming 
 
 eyes, 
 Which of all deaths was the chiefest surprise, 
 
 " The very strangest and suddenest thing 
 Of all the surprises that dying must bring." 
 
 Ah, foolish world ; O most kind dead ! 
 Though he told me, who will believe it was 
 said ? 
 
 Who will believe that he heard her say, 
 
 With the sweet, soft voice, in the dear old way : 
 
 "The utmost wonder is this, — I hear 
 
 And see you, and love you, and kiss you, dear ; 
 
 " And am your angel, who was your bride. 
 And know that, though dead, I have never 
 died."