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 i 
 
WORKS BY ROBY DATTA. 
 
 1. Echoes from East aiid West to which are 
 added Stray Notes of Mine Own (Galloway and Porter, 
 Cambridge, 1909). Cloth, Crown 8vo, 352 pages. 3s. 6d. 
 [To be had of Das Gupta & Co., 54-3, College St., Calcutta.] 
 
 The volume contains poetical renderings from master- 
 pieces in 16 Indo-European languages, and is the first 
 great contribution to Comparative Poetry. It has been 
 highly spoken of in the English and the Indian Press. 
 
 Prof. E. Dowden wrote (1910) :— " It is full of interest 
 for me, and I wonder at the breadth of your scholarship 
 and your accomplishment as a writer of English verse." 
 
 2. Sakuntala and Her Keepsake rendered from 
 the Sanskrit Play of Kalidasa (Das Gupta & Co., 
 Calcutta, 1915). Cloth, Crown 8vo, 168 pages. 12 as. 
 
 The rendering is in poetical prose and verse, and has 
 been highly spoken of in the Prfess. 
 
 Mr. Arthur Symons wrote (1908): — *' You are a real 
 poet, and have a wonderful command of the English lan- 
 guage. Your ' Sakuntala ' is far superior to the two 
 
 English versions [of Jones and Monier- Williams] It 
 
 will take rank among the best translations in English 
 literature." '* Your work is a masterpiece." 
 
 3. Poems, Pictures and Song's to which is prefixed 
 The Philosophy of Art (Ready for print). Some of 
 these have appeared in periodicals. 
 
 4. Stories in Blank Verse to which is added An 
 Epic Fragment (Ready for print). Some of these have 
 appeared in periodicals. 
 
CORRECTIONS IN THE ** ECHOES." 
 
 P. X, 1. I, r^^rtf pitted against ; 1. 14, reappoint of view. P. 13, 
 note, read GnffitWs. B. 15, 1. 14, r<?(2^ movements of the battle. 
 P. 21, 1. 28, read wherefore cometh grief on . thee ? P. 23, note, 
 r?<a;^ maintaining. P. 33, 1. 22, r^<a:^Take leave here of the earth. 
 P. 37, top, r<?(r?^ B6ranger. P. 39, 1. 21, read You, too, it behoveth. 
 P. 45, 1. 31, read may not stay. P. 47, 1. 5, r^«^ Strewing. P. 65, 
 1. 27, read Bamhan. P. 79, note, read " My Study Windows.*' 
 P. 82, note, read Macdonell's. P. 95, note, read Camoens. P. 98, 
 top, r^^<Tf Camoens ; 1. 12, read pillage round. P. 99, note, read 
 Camoens' model. P. loi, note, read Camoens. P. 106, 11. 17, 22, 
 27, read scarce it boots me. P. 109, I. 5, add From his mishap, 
 distress and poverty, | And in that set his true security. P. in, 
 1. 4, read 2ind also honour. P. 114, 1. 13, read where he yet is in. 
 P. 115,1.2, r^a</ and also hardihood. P. 132,1. 8, read caverns. 
 P. 134, 1. 15, rfa^ moonset-mountain dweller ; 1. 25, read doth ever 
 keep awake; note, read is (form). P. 178, 1. i, read carve. 
 P. 179, 1. 3, read Thais ; 1. 9, read H61oise. P. 180, note, read 
 more Villon. P. 185, 1. 24, r^rt!^load. P. 191, 1. 24, read caWd. 
 P. 195, 11. 2, 4, read parsleys. P. 201, 1. 5, read call'd. P. 203, 
 top, read Simonides. P. 219, 1. 11, read not with God battle. 
 P. 223, note, read ^^l ( ist one ). P. 230, note, r^a^ device. P. 241, 
 1. 22, read ev'ry. P. 247, 1. 16, read battle. P. 248, 1. 6, read 
 fashion'd. P. 250, 1. 15, read burghers (/^r citizens ). P. 251, 
 1.15, read sV\\\. P. 252, note, r^^^ Spenserian Stanza. -P. 253, 
 1. 8, read blazon ; 1. 23, r^^^ thine ebon bow, P. 260, 1. 4, read 
 treasure ; note, read expostulating with atheists. P. 261, 1. 10, 
 read Surya ; 1. 24, read call'd. P. 264, 1. 21, read well-deck'd ; 
 1.26, read attain'd. P. 269, 1. i, rm^ relates. P. 274, 1. spread 
 unreveal'd. P. 278, 1. i, read seest P. 286, 1. 6, read hue. P. 287, 
 1.7, read aught. P. 289, 1. i, r^<2^ When said was all. P. 290, 
 1. 27, r^<3!^ goshawk. P. 296, 1. i, read the Soma Atiratra. P. 300, 
 note, read note that in the Indian. P. 318, 1. 16, read at the last 
 their turn. P. 328, 1. 6, read beast. P. 329, *^1. 20, read this too 
 so may. P. 336, note, read Ben Jonson. P. 339, \. S, read full- 
 foam'd. P. 340, top, omif A triolet. 
 
 Obvious misprints in punctuation etc. are not noted here. 
 
ECHOES FROM EAST 
 AND WEST 
 
ECHOES FROM EAST 
 AND WEST 
 
 TO WHICH ARE ADDED 
 STRAY iNOTES OF MINE OWN 
 
 BY 
 
 ROBY DATTA 
 
 Sunset smiles on sunrise: east and west are one, 
 Face to face in heaven before the sovereign sun. 
 
 (Swinburne). 
 
 liitc is the rose's hope while yet unblown ; 
 The reading of an ever-changing tale ; 
 The light uplifting of a maiden's veil ; 
 A pigeon tumbling in clear summer air ; 
 A laughing schoolboy, without grief or care. 
 Riding the springy branches of an elm. 
 
 (Keats). 
 
 CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 GALLOWAY AND PORTER 
 
 1909 
 
OS 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 ,.r * , *; »'; ?,*- 
 
DEDICATION. 
 
 Come ! 
 
 To thee, 
 
 O long-lost, 
 
 O mother mine, 
 
 high in heaven, 
 
 This fruit of many years, 
 
 From 
 
 My tree, 
 
 Now sun-gIoss*d, 
 
 Now dried by shine. 
 
 Now shower-driven, 
 
 1 consecrate with tears ! 
 
 ?AOi) 
 
 »>.fV « 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 THE aim of the " Echoes from East and West *' 
 is to produce on an English gramophone 
 some of the finest records of Indo-European 
 songs. It is to wake up at a grind the " music of the 
 moon " that slept " in the plain eggs " of that " night- 
 ingale enveloped in the mist of ages," the primitive 
 Aryan of Mid-Asia, whose natural and adopted off- 
 spring are scattered over five continents. It is to bring 
 together the voices of some of the Indie, Persic, Hellenic, 
 Itahc, Romance, and Teutonic makers of melodies, 
 so that the only notable nestlings here silent are those 
 that chirped through Celtic and Slavonic tongues. 
 It is also to show that a true song floats above race 
 and age and land and may be heard by all. Thanks 
 to the strenuous devotion of eminent scholars, the 
 Muses of Comparative Philology and Comparative 
 Mythology have in recent years lightened up the path 
 of the seeker of poetry and prosody. I should, there- 
 fore, invite some far abler man, some future Aryan 
 Palgrave, some soul ever athirst for Beauty and 
 anhungered for Truth, to roam farther and farther 
 afield through literatures and come back with fresher 
 and fresher songs for real lovers of poetry in all English- 
 speaking lands. In the meantime I hope that the 
 public would kindly receive this humble collection of 
 
viii PREFACE 
 
 many years, which I have made as representative as 
 possible within the narrow range of my quest. Naturally 
 enough, I have given the greatest prominence to the 
 earlier part as well as the Northern section of English 
 literature, as it is highly interesting to see the beginnings 
 of modern English literature, which is second to no 
 other in the whole historv of the world. Again, the 
 selections from other European literatures have been 
 made in proportion to the interest they may excite in 
 us for their direct or indirect bearing on the poetry of 
 this country. Lastly, I have given some prominence 
 to Indie literatures, because of the present intimate 
 connexion between England, which has absorbed the 
 best part of Greek, Italic, Romance and Teutonic 
 literatures, and India, which has preserved for us the 
 earhest monuments of Aryan culture. I may add that 
 I have ended the volume with " Stray Notes of Mine 
 Own," as they show some of my predilections.^^ Of 
 these poems the one that I care for most is the Sonnet 
 on Milton's " Paradise Lost." 
 
 As regards the arrangement of the selected pieces, a 
 few words need be said. I have not thought it fit to 
 present them in the order of the languages, which would 
 give the book a formidable appearance and would not 
 make the poems really effective. I have, therefore, 
 given them in their chronological order of composition, 
 which, I trust, would be found to be also their psycho- 
 logical and poetically effective order. This order, I 
 need hardly say, was not the order in which I learnt 
 the languages. A few verses, however, taken from my 
 translation of Kalidasa's " Sakuntala and her Keep- 
 sake," have been interspersed through the volume. 
 Again, as regards the method of rendering, I may say 
 
PREFACE ix 
 
 that all the "pieces down to "To the Muse*' exhibit 
 what I call the process of version, that is, rendering 
 the sense of the original in my own manner and in a 
 metrical form something like that of the original ; 
 while all the rest show what I call the process of transla- 
 tion, that is, rendering the original in the order of its 
 words and in its exactly equivalent metrical form as 
 far as it is in keeping with the true genius of the English 
 language. In a few cases the process of translation 
 has been more or less that of modernisation. The 
 essential thing in these processes, which I have always 
 tried to keep in view, is to fall into the inspiration of 
 the original poet before attempting a rendering. Next, 
 with regard to the prosody, I may say that most of the 
 poems are in recognised English or Anglicised metrical 
 forms, but there are a few poems written in Hexameters, 
 Elegiacs, Alliterative Verse, Assonant Verse, > and 
 Unrimed Verse. In translating Classical Lyrical metres, 
 I have given the same number of syllables and the 
 same pauses as the original with an English disposition 
 of accents, with the exception of " The Calm of Nature " 
 from Alcman and " The Crab and the Snake " from a 
 Greek skolion, where I have tried to replace the quantity 
 of the original by the accent in English, as I have done 
 in the case of the Hexameters and Elegiacs. One 
 piece entitled " Baby and Nurse " has been rendered 
 in hexameters, although the original is in a metre full 
 of short syllables. I have introduced rime in translating 
 Classical Sanskrit Quatrains and Pali Quatrains and 
 Sestets, in order to lay stress on the fact that there is 
 a deep rhythmic pause at the end of the second and 
 fourth quarters of the quatrain or the second, fourth and 
 sixth sections of the sestet, and that the uneven quarters 
 
PREFACE X 
 
 or sections are pitched against each other ; but I have 
 not applied this principle in translating Vedic triplets, 
 quatrains, quintuplets and sestets, because there the 
 rhythm and sense seem to me almost confined to each 
 line. Lastly, with regard to foreign names, they are 
 to be pronounced under the English laws of accent, 
 with the exception of a few classical names ; and I may 
 add that in accordance with Elizabethan practice, names 
 of Greek gods and goddesses have been given in their 
 more familiar and more easily pronounced Latin forms 
 — only we should not confound Greek and Roman 
 mythology. 
 
 It should be remarked that the main features of the 
 book are variety and diversity from the voint of view 
 of language, matter, manner, and metre. Poems have 
 been brought together sometimes for comparison, 
 sometimes for contrast, sometimes for showing evolution 
 of thought, overflow of ideas and sentiments from 
 country to country, and so on. To enhance the interest 
 of the reader, I have introduced a few philosophical 
 poems from the East, and a few devotional poems from 
 both East and West. Wherever the opening or a part 
 of a great poem has been given in these pages, it is implied 
 that some knowledge of the whole will always be found 
 edifying, because of the side-lights thrown on racial 
 characteristics, which are more or less insular, and on 
 human sentiments, which are bound to be universal. 
 In fact. Life in its insular intensity, and in its universal 
 extensity, and — to go a step further — in its eternal 
 protensity, is the highest goal of study in Art. It is 
 this three-sided Life which Homer and Shakespeare 
 saw mostly, but of which a good deal remains a sealed 
 book to us mortals. Do you know of anyone, young or 
 
PREFACE xi 
 
 old, of either sex, of any country, or of any age, barring 
 jealous contemporaries, who, being able to read 
 Shakespeare, did not in the main like him ? I do not. 
 I say " in the main " advisedly ; because what he or 
 she does not like in Shakespeare is to him or her, but 
 not to all, a sealed book. 
 
 In conclusion, I have to discharge the most pleasant 
 duty of expressing my gratitude to the various scholars 
 whose works or lectures or personal contact were of 
 great help to me in attacking the original poems. I 
 should mention in particular three famous scholars of 
 Christ's College, Cambridge, the Rev. Prof. W. W. 
 Skeat, Litt.D.,Dr. I. Gollancz, Professor, King's College, 
 London, and Mr. A. J. Wyatt, M.A., who all created 
 in me a taste for the earlier part of English literature. 
 I also sat for Old and Middle French at the feet of Mr. 
 E. G. W. Braunholtz, M.A., and Mr. W. Rippman, 
 M.A. ; for Latin at the feet of Mr. E. J. Brooks, M.A., 
 and Mr. S. Bloxsidge, B.A. (Oxon) ; and for Vedic 
 Sanskrit at the feet of the late Prof. C. Bendall, M.A., 
 and Dr. L. D. Barnett, Professor, University College, 
 London. In my first studies of the French language 
 I received the kind help of the Rev. J. W. Cartmell, 
 M.A„ Tutor of Christ's College, and of M. Vital de la 
 Motte, M.A., of Christ's College. My passion for 
 Scottish literature was early bred in me by five Professors, 
 all Scotsmen, under whom I read at Calcutta ; there 
 also I learnt Old English from Mr. A. C. Edwards, M.A., 
 and some classics, as well as most of the Eastern lan- 
 guages rendered in these pages. I was encouraged in 
 my renderings of Greek and German by my friend 
 Mr. E. J. Thomas, B.A., of Emmanuel College ; and I 
 received the judgment of Mr. J. H. Sleeman, M.A., 
 
xii PREFACE 
 
 Fellow of Sidney Sussex College, on some of the Classical 
 pieces, and of the Rev. G. T. Manley, M.A., formerly 
 Fellow of Christ's College, on some of the Indian religious 
 and philosophical poems. I should also record here 
 my best thanks to two Frenchmen, M. Florian Cordon 
 and M. Emmanuel Ldon Chouville, and a German Swiss, 
 Herr Jacob Gerster, Cand. Med., who often gave me 
 valuable advice. Speaking generally, I learnt the 
 psychological analysis of art from Mr. Carveth Read, 
 M.A., Lecturer of University College, London. Last, 
 but not least, I should mention Mr. Arthur Symons, 
 critic and poet, whose friendship has been of late a 
 constant source of inspiration to me. 
 
 ROBY DATTA. 
 
 Cambridge. 
 2B>th September, 1908. 
 
 P.S. — At the suggestion of some friends, among 
 others Mr. G. T. Hales, B.A., and Mr. E. J. Tipping, 
 B.A., a short note has been given at the end of each 
 poem rendered. I hope it will prove interesting to 
 some readers. 
 
 K. D. 
 
 Cambridge. 
 2$th November, 1908. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Grief of Ravan 3 
 
 The Grief OF KousALYA 10 
 
 The Lay OF THE Lord, Bk. 1 14 
 
 The Club that Shattfrs Error 21 
 
 The Lay of the Lord, Bk. II 24 
 
 In the Gloom 31 
 
 In the Light 32 
 
 The Fair Martyrs 33 
 
 The Sworn Hero 35 
 
 The Dawn-Bride 36 
 
 Mary Stuart's Farewell to France . . . '37 
 
 Eneas' Prayer to Apollo 39 
 
 From Gopa to the Buddha 41 
 
 From Jana to Niladhvaja 44 
 
 From Kekayi to Dasaratha 47 
 
 From Sakuntala to Dushyanta 50 
 
 How the Suns were Made 53 
 
 The Broken Soul '59 
 
 The Days Fly 63 
 
 A Song of Ind . 64 
 
 Piyadasi . . . 65 
 
 Love's Weal and Woe 67 
 
 A Twilight Serenade 68 
 
 The Importunate 69 
 
 A Hymn to Dawn 70 
 
 Life's Voyage 71 
 
 The Sense of Loneliness 72 
 
 Lines Written in Dejection 73 
 
 Ths Rosebud 74 
 
 To the Muse 75 
 
 Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, LL, i — iS . 79 
 
 The Swan 80 
 
 The Worship of the Fire-God 8i 
 
 On Sakuntala 83 
 
xiv CONTENTS 
 
 The Iliad, Bk. I., LL. i — 7 84 
 
 The iENEiD. Bk. I., LL. i — 7 85 
 
 The Rope, Prol., LL. i — 31 86 
 
 To Pyrrha 88 
 
 The Pearl, Stt. i — 5 89 
 
 The Divine Comedy, Hell, Canto I., LL. i — 36 . . 92 
 The Slaughter of Meghanad, Bk. I., LL. i — 36 . 94 
 Jerusalem Delivered, Canto I., Stt. i — 4 ... 96 
 
 The Lusiad, Canto L, Stt. i — 4 q8 
 
 Piers the Plowman, Prol., LL. i — 22 .... 100 
 
 Beowulf, Preface, LL. i — 11 loi 
 
 The Capture of Cordova and Sevilia, Laisse I. . 102 
 The Race of Raghu, Canto I., vs. i — 10 . . .104 
 
 Merciless Beauty . . .106 
 
 The King's Quair, Stt. i — 7 108 
 
 The Lay of the Nibelungs, Adventure I.. . .110 
 
 The Monk's Tale, Stt. i — 4 114 
 
 Early Britain 116 
 
 CiEDMON's Hymn 118 
 
 The Adventures of Arthur, a Stave . . . ' 19 
 
 Lines on Freedom .120 
 
 Swellfoot the Tyrant, Prol., LL. i — 13 . . . 121 
 
 Loves, Bk. I., Ll. 5 122 
 
 Sarah at the Bath 123 
 
 The Dream of Anacreon 127 
 
 The Longing of Radha . . . . . .128 
 
 Urvasi 131 
 
 A Hymn to Venus 135 
 
 An Ode on the Death of a Sparrow . . . .137 
 The Garment of Good Ladies . . . . .138 
 
 Algous and Sappho . 140 
 
 A Sonnet on Laura's Mirror 141 
 
 A Sonnet on Phyllis's Face 142 
 
 A Sonnet on Geraldine's Lineage .... 143 
 
 A Sonnet on Elizabeth's Name 144 
 
 The Reveller 145 
 
 Siva and Uma .146 
 
 Dream-Pictures 147 
 
 The Lake 148 
 
 The Weird Wheel of Sim^etha 151 
 
 The Plaint of Corydon 153 
 
 The Weird Herb of Indrani . . . . -155 
 Agastya and Lopamudra . . . . . .156 
 
 PURURAVAS and URVASI 1 58 
 
 Yama and Yami . .162 
 
 Amalia . 165 
 
 RODRIGUE 166 
 
 Hermione 168 
 
 The Song of Monsieur Jourdain . . . .170 
 
CONTENTS XV 
 
 The Song of Don Cardenio 171 
 
 Fabulla 173 
 
 Thyrsis 174 
 
 The Penance of Uma 175 
 
 A Love-Letter on a Lotus-leaf 177 
 
 A Love-Letter in Runes 178 
 
 The Dames of the Olden Time . . . . . i79 
 
 Saint Eulalia 181 
 
 A Song of Spring 182 
 
 Jupiter 183 
 
 Ahura Mazda 184 
 
 The Buddha 185 
 
 Prajapati 186 
 
 The World-Song 188 
 
 The Cloud-Envoy 189 
 
 A Scene in the Deccan 190 
 
 The Wood-Nymph 191 
 
 The Calm of Nature 192 
 
 An Eastern Scene I93 
 
 The Crab and the Snake 194 
 
 Baby and Nurse 195 
 
 The Funny Man 196 
 
 The Dreamy Man I97 
 
 The Merry Man 198 
 
 The Head of a Maiden 199 
 
 Life's Theatre 200 
 
 Claudia 201 
 
 Heliodora 202 
 
 Timocreon 203 
 
 A Death-Song 204 
 
 The Dying Swan 205 
 
 The Dying Man 206 
 
 Nachiketas . . 207 
 
 The Death of Beowulf 209 
 
 The Last Iamb 210 
 
 Life and Death 211 
 
 Balder's Dream . .212 
 
 Shadowy Shapes 215 
 
 Lucifer 217 
 
 Satan 219 
 
 The Whale 221 
 
 The Odyssey, Bk. L, LL. i — 10 223 
 
 Widsith 324 
 
 The Seafarer 225 
 
 The Wanderer 227 
 
 The Wife's Complaint 229 
 
 Achilles and Chryses 230 
 
 Varuna and Vasishtha .231 
 
 India from the Indian Ocean ..... 232 
 
xvi CONTENTS 
 
 The Earth from a Descending Sky- wain . . .233 
 The Passing Scenery from a Swift Car . . -234 
 
 Dushyanta and the Deer 235 
 
 Dushyanta and the Steeds 236 
 
 Nandin in the Penance-Wood of Siva . . . 237 
 
 Rama's Bridge 238 
 
 Beowulf's Voyage 239 
 
 Gnats 240 
 
 The Victory of Psaumis 241 
 
 The Victory of Sudas 243 
 
 Bruce and the Three Men who Swore his Death . 245 
 
 -^The Battle of Maldon 246 
 
 ' The Punic Wars, Bk. I., LL. i — 16 . . . .248 
 -Pharsalia, Bk. I., LL. i — 14. ..... 250 
 
 BOLAND THE MaD, CANTO I., SXT. I 4 . . . . 25I 
 
 Gloriana 253 
 
 The Maid of Orleans . . . . . . .255 
 
 William Tell 256 
 
 The Kinship of Souls 257 
 
 Indra 258 
 
 The Twin Asvins 261 
 
 The Maruts 263 
 
 King Arthur's Court 265 
 
 The Eye of Envy 267 
 
 The Origin of Kingship 268 
 
 The Cock and the Gem 2(9 
 
 The Cock and the Pearl ...... 270 
 
 Minstrel Life 271 
 
 SiLVTO AND MONICO 273 
 
 A Ballata on Laura's Veil 274 
 
 A Sestina on a Lover's Hours 275 
 
 A Villanelle on a Turtledove 277 
 
 A Virelay on Worldly Wisdom ^78 
 
 A Lullaby, in Pantoum 279 
 
 A Christian's Advice, in Chant-Royal . . .281 
 
 A Triolet on Beauty's Charms 283 
 
 A Roundel on Beauty's Charms 284 
 
 The Lay of Pleasance ....... 285 
 
 An Ode on a Rose 286 
 
 A Ballade on the Value of Honour .... 287 
 
 Anelida's Complaint to Arcite 288 
 
 Chaucer's Appearance 289 
 
 The Rime of Sir Thopas 290 
 
 Tiresome Writings 293 
 
 The Frogs . . -295 
 
 The Merry Monk 297 
 
 The Ravages of Grendel 299 
 
 The Wrath of God 300 
 
 The Peasant Revolt 301 
 
CONTENTS xvii 
 
 The Tale of Britain, LL. i — ii 302 
 
 The Booklet of Orm, LL. i — 16 303 
 
 Isaac and Esau 304 
 
 The Norman Conquest 305 
 
 The Voyage of the Trojans 306 
 
 The Owl and the Nightingale 307 
 
 A Moral Ode 308 
 
 A Ghasel on Worldly Wisdom 309 
 
 Love Locked Up 310 
 
 Love Not to be Betrayed . . . . . .311 
 
 Love under the Linden-tree 312 
 
 Gritty's Song 314 
 
 Beatrice 316 
 
 The Young Widow 317 
 
 The Two Married Women and the Widow . .319 
 
 King Heart 321 
 
 The Poor Man and the Pardoner .... 323 
 
 Little Havelok and Old Grim 324 
 
 Horn and Rimenhild 325 
 
 Lucretian Pleasure 327 
 
 Good and Bad Thoughts 328 
 
 Deor's Lament 329 
 
 Adam and Eve 330 
 
 A Fallen Man and a Fallen Woman . . . .331 
 
 A Satire on Drunken Frolics 332 
 
 The Poet's Immortality 333 
 
 The Poetaster's Madness 334 
 
 The Poet's Kindred Soul 336 
 
 STRAY NOTES OF MINE OWN. 
 
 The Old Fortress ; 339 
 
 The Rose 340 
 
 The Refusal 341 
 
 A Sonnet on " Paradise Lost " 342 
 
 To a Lyric Poet 343 
 
 To a Wordsworthian 344 
 
 To A Poet-Painter 345 
 
 A Prothalamium . 346 
 
 A Melody 347 
 
 Conscience . . . . . . . . 348 
 
 An Ocean-Scene 349 
 
 On Tibet 350 
 
 An Idea 351 
 
 To Britain • . . . . . . . 352 
 
TovT eV ylrvx^fj \6yoi, 
 
 (Aristides). 
 
 (Such in the mind are words, 
 As beauty in the body is.) 
 
 lo cominciai : Poeta che mi guidi, 
 Guarda la mia virtu, s'ella e possente, 
 Prima che all' alto passo tu mi fidi, 
 
 (Dante). 
 
 (I gan to speak : " O Bard, who art my guide, 
 
 Regard my manhood, if it be enough. 
 
 Ere me to the deep pass thou dost confide.") 
 
THE GRIEF OF RAVAN. 
 
 (From Michael M. S. Dutt). 
 
 O at the Lord of Lanka's hest the messenger began — 
 But ere the word was on his hps, his lips grew 
 pale and wan. 
 
 Then for a while, like one amazed, his eye around he 
 
 cast ; 
 And o'er his cheek, as he would speak, a sudden colour 
 
 past. 
 
 'The colour past from cheek to eye ; he knew not how 
 
 he spake : 
 " Sir King, Virbahu's gone to sleep, O never more to 
 
 wake ! " 
 
 ITo whom said Ravan sore at heart, his face with sorrow 
 
 white : 
 " This tale of thine is like unto a vision seen at night. 
 
 " My son, whose might kept Gods in dread, hath beggar 
 
 Rama slain ? 
 fHath Fate, then, fell'd the stubborn oak with but a 
 
 flower-chain ? 
 
 Alas, my darling ! thou art gone so early ! — ^woe is me • 
 IThro' what great sin of mine have I made thee mine 
 arms to flee ? 
 
 B2 
 
14 • ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " O Fate Almighty, dost thou will to see me thus 
 
 undone ? 
 Give me mine own ; where hast thou kept my loved 
 
 and loving son ? 
 
 " My race, O cruel Fate, is fast decaying day by day ! 
 Or why did Kumbhakarna, too, so early pass away ? 
 
 " As stout wood-cutters in a wood first cut off one by one 
 The boughs, and last against the tree their mighty axes 
 run, 
 
 ' So will my foemen in their wrath first lop off all my 
 
 kin, 
 And, lastly, feUing down myself, my golden island win. 
 
 ' O Surpanakha ! in what hour did first thine eye behold 
 Yon cruel crawUng human snake in Dandak's woods of 
 old? 
 
 " Me wretched ! in what hour again, to set my house on 
 
 fire. 
 Brought I yon fairy fiery n5miph from Panchavati dire ? 
 
 " O who shall keep the honour now of this far-honour'd 
 
 line ? 
 My hopes are gone ; ere long, I see, a downfall will be 
 
 mine. 
 
 " I wish I were within a wood, from man and sin apart, 
 Where, lone and tranquil, I could soothe the burning of 
 my heart. 
 
 ' My life is barren as a waste — no joy therein can grow ; 
 For, he for whom I die is dead ; I wish I could be so." 
 
 So saying, Ravan once again : " Good envoy, briefly tell 
 How sweet Virbahu bore himself, how he in battle fell." 
 
THE GRIEF OF RAVAN. 5 
 
 Then spake the messenger in grief : " The task is all too 
 
 hard, 
 For, how can I unfold his feats, who am no cunning bard ? 
 
 "The Demon-host did ne*er before see such a leader 
 
 brave ; 
 Tho' mild at home, yet in the field he bore a figure 
 
 grave. 
 
 " His battle-cry did shake, my lord, the heart of ev'ry 
 foe ; 
 : His bow he bent, his shafts he sent, and laid whole 
 legions low. 
 
 *' His arrows flash'd and flashed ; their blaze, reflected 
 
 in the sky, 
 Did make a sunbow when the cloud of dust had risen 
 
 high. 
 
 ** Upon his shoulders clang'd his shield, his brand was 
 
 in his hand, 
 No fear had he of Ramans arms, nor of his Monkey-band. 
 
 " His skill he show'd in bending bow, in wielding sword 
 
 and shield, 
 Death-blows he dealt on ev'ry side, and dyed the 
 
 battle-field." 
 
 The messenger stopt short in grief, for he could speak 
 
 no more ; 
 The Lord of Lanka wail'd and wept, deep-wounded 
 
 in the core. 
 
 Then to his courtiers Ravan said : " Come, from the 
 
 house-top high 
 Look we upon Virbahu's death and soothe our eager 
 
 eye." 
 
6 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 The King did mount his palace-top, his courtiers all 
 
 behind ; 
 He let his veering glance alight on whatso he could find. 
 
 On all sides round the island shone with golden-crested 
 
 towers 
 Inlaid Uke brooches in the heart of groves besprent with 
 
 flowers. 
 
 And here upon the grassy green, above a silver fount, 
 Thin thread on thread of steaUng mist did many a palm 
 surmount. 
 
 And here a lovely pleasure-lake, and here a splendid 
 
 shrine, 
 And here a gaily-gilded shop in fine array did shine. 
 
 For, all the wealth of all the world, exhaustless and 
 
 untold. 
 Was hoarded up, O Lanka fair, at thy bright feet of gold. 
 
 He saw the rampart, long and strong, of Lanka's mother- 
 town. 
 
 And on the rampart stairs the guards all hurrying up 
 and down. 
 
 The Lion-portals all were closed ; and here within the 
 
 doors 
 He saw, full ready and awake, a countless Demon-force. 
 
 And there without the town he saw a locust horde of men, 
 That hung and hover' d line on line as far as he could ken. 
 
 Then to another scene he turn'd, his courtiers at his 
 
 back ; 
 It was the field of battle, and he felt his bosom crack. 
 
THE GRIEF OF RAVAN. 7 
 
 In grief he cried : " O fallen friends, on you the jackals 
 
 feed ! 
 They grin and grapple o'er your hearts and make your 
 
 bodies bleed ! 
 
 ** The vultures pounce upon your flesh — I cannot bear 
 
 it more ! 
 The war-dogs and the war-hawks, too, will they thus 
 
 suck your gore ? " 
 
 There, in the midst of friends laid low, he found Virbahu 
 dead ; 
 
 He lookt but once, then shut his eyes, and, broken- 
 hearted, said : 
 
 *' The bed whereon, my darUng son, Virbahu, thou hast 
 
 lain. 
 Is glorious ; for, in fighting for thy country thou wast 
 
 slain. 
 
 " Thy bed is glorious : yet my heart doth not for glory 
 
 care : 
 What booteth glory unto me, if thou art lost for e'er ? 
 
 " This world, O Fate, is but the field of all thy sports 
 
 below ; 
 Why art thou pleased with having seen a mortal suffer 
 
 woe ? " 
 
 So saying, Ravan in his woe his eyes to seaward cast. 
 Beheld the bridge by Rama built, and slowly spake at 
 last: 
 
 ** O Sea ! how fine a necklace thou on thy fine neck dost 
 
 wear ! — 
 Yet fie ! no necklace, 'tis a chain ! — so rude dost thou 
 
 appear ? 
 
« ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 " So rude to such a golden isle, that decks thy sable 
 
 breast 
 Like myriad-lightning'd Koustubh-gem upon young 
 
 Madhav's chest ? 
 
 " Throw off that chain ! Throw off that chain ! why with 
 
 the bridge thus bound ? 
 This isle is waste ; in waters vast let all our foes be 
 
 drown'd." 
 
 Then from the golden^'palace-top he came down with his 
 
 men. 
 And 'mid the courtiers in the court did mount his throne 
 
 again. 
 
 Pale as, nay paler than, a cloud, Chitrangada came 
 
 there ; 
 A creeping plant bereft of bloom, half-wither'd and 
 
 half-bare. 
 
 She wore no trinkets in her grief ; a simple dress she 
 
 wore ; 
 She lookt to Ravan, beat her breast, her golden ringlets 
 
 tore. 
 
 For, stung at heart as with a dart, she could not ope 
 
 her tongue 
 Like stork what time a snake, her nest approaching, 
 
 eats her young. 
 
 The Lord of Lanka saw her face, he saw her face and 
 
 wept. 
 The courtiers wept, the gateman too, of one so dear 
 
 bereft. 
 
 And for a while a silence reign'd, an evil silence, there ; 
 No nose did breathe, no hps did move, so sad the 
 mourners were. 
 
THE GRIEF OF RAVAN. 9 
 
 Then spake the Queen : ** A gem serene kind Fate 
 
 bestow' d on me ; 
 With thee I kept it : where is it ? I ask it back of thee. 
 
 *' Thou art a king, thy duty is the poor man's all to save ; 
 And I am poor ; return me now the gem to thee I gave." 
 
 " And thou," said Ravan, " thou, my dear, wilt also 
 
 vex me so ? 
 O add not fuel to the fire, my heart is full of woe. 
 
 " This Lanka, nurse of heroes once, hath now no warrior 
 
 great ; 
 My realm is left all hero-reft at thy son's woful fate. 
 
 " At one child's death, my dearest Queen, thou art so 
 
 pale with grief ; 
 While at a thousand children's death my mind hath no 
 
 reUef. 
 
 " This Lanka will decay, I see in fancy's eye, my Queen ; 
 My men fall day by day before the foeman's arrow 
 keen. 
 
 " Then weep not, fair Chitrangada, for neither tears nor 
 
 sighs 
 Can change the fixt decree of Fate or bid the dead arise.'* 
 
 June, 1897. 
 
 [Note — Michael Dutt's conception of Fate throughout his great 
 epic of "The Slaughter of Meghanad," from which this 
 extract is taken, is more Greek than Indian. With regard to 
 the metre of the version, it was quite unconsciously that I 
 used that of Chapman's " Homer."] 
 
THE GRIEF OF KOUSALYA. 
 
 (From Valmiki.) 
 
 ^HEN Queen Kousayla, tho* she was herself afflicted 
 sore, 
 
 Upraised the senseless King who lay heart- 
 broken on the floor. 
 
 She rubb'd and fann'd him for a while ; his sense he 
 
 did regain, 
 And harsher words fell from her tongue to storm his 
 
 ear again. 
 
 " In ev'ry land above all men thy name, O King, is 
 
 praised ; 
 But, as my child thou hast exiled, thy shame will soon 
 
 be raised. 
 
 *' For, who is there with heart so hard that he can send 
 
 his child. 
 To whom he pledged his crown and staff, unto the 
 
 forest wild ? 
 
 " Hast thou exiled thy guiltless child for fear of lies 
 
 alone ? 
 Mark well, thou art a liar still, not giving him the throne. 
 
 " This Solar Une for love of truth is known in ev'ry clime ; 
 By this thy deed thou hast profaned that far-famed 
 race sublime. 
 
 "This golden rime in olden time himself did Brahma 
 
 sing. 
 When he did weigh the worth of Truth, well-known on 
 
 earth, O King : 
 
THE GRIEF -OF KOUSALYA. ii 
 
 " * A thousand sacrifices set against one Truth I've 
 
 weigh'd, 
 And found, O men, in weight and worth by far the 
 
 latter sway'd.' 
 
 "So, sacrificing their own Hves, one Truth the wise 
 
 uphold ; 
 A greater thing than Truth, my lord, these three worlds 
 
 do not hold. 
 
 ** By Truth alone the Sun gives heat, the Moon grows 
 
 phase by phase, 
 By Truth alone was Nectar churn'd, on Truth is Nature's 
 
 base. 
 
 " Nay, Virtue with its fourfold form to Truth doth 
 
 always cling, 
 Just as a meek four-footed ox doth to the post, O King. 
 
 " The wise, my lord, speak of two paths to Virtue — 
 
 Grace and Truth, 
 Whereon, I say, all Virtue here is based in very sooth. 
 
 " Thy fame is marr'd, thy name is lost, for having left 
 
 my child ; 
 Thou settest down for him thy crown, but him thou 
 
 hast exiled. 
 
 " The odour of a blossom spreads towards the draft 
 
 of air ; 
 But the sweet scent of a man's fame is wafted ev'rywhere. 
 
 " The fragrance of the sandal-wood is not so lasting here 
 As that of fame ; so pious men to virtue oft adhere. 
 
 *' But the bad smell of this bad deed, destroying all 
 
 thy fame, 
 Will ever run from place to place and render foul thy name. 
 
12 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 *' Good luck ! thy dear one did not ask my stripling to 
 
 be slain ; 
 Ay, such a boon from such a king she doubtless could 
 
 obtain I 
 
 " As in a lonesome wilderness the stouter brutes attack 
 The helpless deer, so stronger men oppress the weak, 
 alack ! 
 
 " Yet why for nothing censure thee in many a cruel 
 
 word ? 
 My luck is bad ; what shall I gain by blaming thee, my 
 
 lord? 
 
 " My boy forbade me for his sake his father to chastise ; 
 O wrongly have I censured thee, forgetting his advice ! 
 
 " What other lady ever spake such bitter words and fell 
 To her own lord, as I ? Ah then, I have not acted well. 
 
 " I blame thee not, for this our world is led by One 
 
 Most High ; 
 My luck is bad, o'er which I have no power ; why blame 
 
 thee ? why ? 
 
 ** By fate ordain' d, my soothfast son all earthly joys 
 
 hath left 
 To keep thy truth, and left his home, of ev'ry pleasure 
 
 reft." 
 
 Thus weeping hot, the Queen could not her sorrow's 
 
 end attain ; 
 She, robb'd of wit, as in a fit, began to speak again : 
 
 " Much more than Rama I lament, I do lament this day 
 That brother-loving Lakshman, who hath traced his 
 brother's way. 
 
THE GRIEF OF KOUSALYA. 13 
 
 " I think of Lakshman, who forsook his wife and mother 
 
 good 
 To work his brother weal, and went unbidden to the 
 
 wood. 
 
 " I think of Sita, Sita good, King Janak's daughter fair ; 
 How will she rove the lonesome grove, and rugged 
 tree-bark wear ? 
 
 " How will she sleep upon the steep, with hay and 
 
 leaves bestrown ? 
 How will she dwell within a cell, and bide her hours 
 
 alone ? 
 
 ** O when shall I behold again that sweet face of my 
 
 child ? 
 Ah never, never ! long will he stay in the forest wild. 
 
 " My heart is surely made of stone, or why doth it not 
 
 crack ? 
 My loved and loving son is gone, and I am lost, alack ! 
 
 " Thou hast, my lord, forsaken all — thyself, thy fame, 
 
 thy son. 
 Thy kingdom, and thy virtues all — O we are all undone !" 
 
 July, 1897. 
 
 [Note. — Those who are interested in the Story of Rama should 
 read Griffiths' pretty free verse-translation of the epic] 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 
 
 {From the so-called Vyasa). 
 
 Book I. The Sadness of Arjun. 
 
 DhritarasUra. 
 
 On the sacred plain of Kuru met together for the fray 
 Mine own men and all the Pandavs : tell me, San jay, 
 what did they ? 
 
 Sanjay, 
 When Duryodhan saw the forces of the Pandavs 
 
 well-array'd, 
 Near he came unto his tutor, and a royal speech he made : 
 
 (Duryodhan). 
 
 " See, O tutor, see the army of the sons of Pandu there. 
 Duly drawn up by thy pupil, Drupad's son, of wisdom 
 rare. 
 
 " Yon are bowmen equal unto Bhim and Arjun still in 
 
 war : 
 Yuyudhan, Virat, and Drupad sitting on his mighty car, 
 
 ** Chekitan, and Dhrishtaketu, and the king of Kasi 
 
 town, 
 Purujit, and Kuntibhoj, and Seivya, warrior of renown, 
 
 *' Yudhamanyu, Uttamoujas, and the son of Bhadra fair. 
 
 And the sons of Drupad's daughter sitting all on chariots 
 
 there • - r-'v>^«t!'Vl-. ? t^'^ --'Jf^^ ^ '4 
 
 "^Hearken now, O best of Brahmans, who amongst us 
 ["jg;are of fame, 
 
 Leaders of my mighty army ; these, that thou mayst 
 know, I name : 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 15 
 
 " Thou, and Bhishma too, and Kama, Kripa also, good 
 
 in wars, 
 Asvatthaman, and Vikarna, Soumadatti winning cars, 
 
 " And a host of other warriors, each agog to quit his 
 
 hfe 
 For my sake, each many-weapon'd and experienced 
 
 in the strife. 
 
 " This array of ours, in order kept by Bhishma, scant I 
 
 deem ; 
 That array of theirs, in order kept by Bhim, full great 
 
 doth seem. 
 
 *' Wherefore, placed in fixt divisions, each of you, my 
 
 warlike men. 
 Thro' the movements of battle, look to Bhishma now 
 
 and then.'* 
 
 Then the aged Kuru grandsire, pouring joy into his core, 
 Blew his conch, in doughty fashion roaring out a Uon's 
 roar. 
 
 Conch and kettledrum and cymbal, battledrum and 
 
 bugle strong 
 All at once did clang together, and that sound was 
 
 loud and long. 
 
 Till from out a mighty chariot, which white horses 
 
 lightly drew, 
 Madhav and the son of Pandu on their conchs celestial 
 
 blew. 
 
 Krishna blew on Five-Folks' -Trophy ; Arjun blew on 
 
 God-endow' d ; 
 And the wolfish-bellied hero blew a blast on Poundra 
 
 loud ; 
 
i6 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 King Yudhishthir, son of Kunti, blew on Endless- 
 Victor' s-Dower ; 
 
 Nakul blew on Pleasant-Bellow ; Sahadev, on Jewel- 
 Flower. 
 
 Thereon Kasya, prince of archers, and Sikhandin on his 
 
 car, 
 Dhrishtadyumna, and Virat, and Satyaki unfoil'd in 
 
 war, 
 
 Drupad, and the Droupadeyas, blew their conchs, O 
 
 Lord of Earth, 
 With the long-arm'd son of Bhadra, one by one, in 
 
 martial mirth. 
 
 And that mighty din the bosoms of the Dhartarashtras 
 
 tore. 
 Making sky and earth together echo back the mighty 
 
 roar. 
 
 Then the ape-sign'd Pandav saw the Dhartarashtras 
 
 in array. 
 And, amidst the flight of weapons, to the Senses' Lord 
 
 did say : 
 
 {Arjun). 
 
 " Place my car, O thou Unshaken, right between the 
 
 armies bright, 
 Whilst I see them set in order and full ready for the 
 
 fight. 
 
 " With whom shall I fight in battle ? I desire to look on 
 
 those 
 Who, to work Duryodhan pleasure, are assembled here 
 
 as foes," 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 17 
 
 So the Lord of all the Senses, by the Lord of Sleep 
 
 addrest, 
 Placed that best of cars, O Bhirat, right between the 
 
 armies' best. 
 
 Right in face of Bhishma, Drona, and of all the Lords 
 
 of land ; — 
 Then he said, " son of Pritha, see the Kurus in 
 
 a band." 
 
 There the mighty son of Pritha fathers and grandfathers 
 
 saw, 
 Tutors, uncles, brothers, children, grandsons, kinsmen, 
 
 sires-in-law, 
 
 Comrades too in either army ; — then beholding kin 
 
 and kind. 
 Said the son of Kunti, deeply moved by passion, sad in 
 
 mind : 
 
 {Arjun). 
 
 ** Seeing all these kinsmen, Krishna here prepared to 
 
 fight or die, 
 Lo ! my limbs are waxing languid, and my mouth is 
 
 waxing dry ; 
 
 ** Lo ! a quake is on my body, and my hair on bristles 
 
 turns, 
 Gandiv from my hand is slipping and my skin with fever 
 
 burns ; 
 
 " Nay, I cannot stand erect, for all my mind is whirling 
 
 round. 
 And a crowd of froward omens, O thou Hairy One, is 
 
 found. 
 
 C 
 
i8 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Nor do I see good in slaying all these kinsmen in the 
 
 fight; 
 Krishna, I desire not vict'ry, nor a kingdom, nor dehght. 
 
 "What shall we do with a kingdom, O Cow-owner, 
 
 what shall we ? 
 Of what good will be enjoyment ? Of what good our 
 
 living be ? 
 
 "They for whom we seek a kingdom and enjoyment 
 
 and deUght, 
 They, resigning lives and riches, are assembled here to 
 
 fight. 
 
 "Tutors, fathers, sons, grandfathers, uncles too, and 
 
 sires-in-law. 
 Children's children, spouses' brothers, and the kinsmen 
 
 whom I saw, 
 
 " These I will not slay, O Slayer of Madhu, tho' myself 
 
 be slain, — 
 Even if the three worlds* sceptre — ^what of earth ? — 
 
 I chance to gain. 
 
 "If we slay the Dhartarashtras, what contentment 
 
 may we win, 
 Folk-tormenter ? Sin will seize us, if we slay these 
 
 slaves of sin. 
 
 " So, to kill the Dhartarashtras, our own kinsfolk, is 
 
 not right ; — 
 How by killing these our kinsfolk may we, Madhav, 
 
 gain delight ? 
 
 "Even if they, with their reason blinded by rapacious ends. 
 Find no ill in race-destruction or oppression of their 
 friends. 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 19 
 
 " Should we not, O Folk-tormenter, try to shun this 
 
 sinful act, 
 We who look on race-destruction as a mighty sin in 
 
 fact? 
 
 " With the loss of race each racial rite eternal surely 
 
 dies; 
 With the loss of virtue surely all the race is seized by 
 
 vice ; 
 
 *" With the rise of vice, O Krishna, all the women ot 
 the race 
 Get corrupt, and, when they are so, racial mixture is 
 the case ; 
 
 " And to hell the race-destroyers and the race doth 
 
 mixture call. 
 For, their sires without oblation and without Hbation 
 
 fall. 
 
 jv " By these mixture-breeding vices of the race-destroying 
 T host 
 
 All the castely and the racial rites eternal must be lost. 
 
 *' We have heard from Sacred Scripture that for ever- 
 more in hell 
 
 They that bring about destruction of their race must 
 have to dwell. 
 
 " Woe is us ! who are determined to commit a mighty 
 
 sin. 
 As, for pleasures of a kingdom, we are forth to slay our 
 
 kin. 
 
 " Better far it would be, if the Dhartarashtras, arms in 
 
 hand. 
 In the battle slay me, armless and unable to withstand." 
 
20 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Thus, at heart with sorrow smitten, speaking in the 
 
 midst of war, 
 Arjun, dropping bow and arrows, took his seat upon the 
 
 car. 
 
 May, 1899. 
 
 [Note. — The whole philosophy of the Lay, which is called the 
 " Indian Bible," is based on the question of the righteousness 
 of this war. Righteous activity in and through the world, as 
 opposed to worldless inactivity, forms the central teaching of 
 the Lay. It has been translated again and again into most of 
 the European languages, and in India it is read a thousand 
 times more than the Vedas themselves, for which there is more 
 national than religious veneration. The metre of the present 
 version is that of Tennyson's " Loeksley Hall."] 
 
THE CLUB THAT SHATTERS ERROR. 
 
 {From Sankara), 
 
 AH fool ! thy thirst of wealth forsake — 
 Thereto in mind no liking take ; 
 The Uttle wealth thy work acquires — 
 With that content thy heart's desires. 
 
 Money breeds ill, — remember this ; 
 From money comes no jot of bliss ; 
 Nor trust his son the rich man dare, — 
 This is the law known ev'r57where. 
 
 Who is thy wife, and who thy child ? 
 This world is full of wonders wild ! 
 Whose art thou, man ? whence comest thou ? 
 Think, brother, of the matter now. 
 
 Boast not of wealth or friends or prime ; 
 All in a wink is stol'n by Time ; 
 Leaving this world's attractions vain, 
 Sweet Brahmahood soon do thou gain. 
 
 Our life is fickle, dim and brief 
 As water on a lotus-leaf ; 
 For, Dragon Malady devours 
 This care-beladen world of ours. 
 
 Think always of this matter high, 
 The thought of brittle wealth put by ; 
 With good men's concourse for thy boat 
 Thou thro' this sea-like world canst float. 
 
 The Eight Great Hills, the Seven Seas, 
 Brahm, Indra, Surya, Rudra — these 
 Nor thou nor I nor aught can be ; — 
 Then wherefore grief is felt by thee ? 
 
22 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 As long thy money thou canst earn, 
 To thee thy family will turn ; 
 Then, when with age thy frame is weak, 
 No one to thee a word will speak. 
 
 From lust, rage, thirst and error free, 
 " What thing am I ? " the wise will see ; 
 The dullard, of self-knowledge reft, 
 To rot for e'er in hell is left. 
 
 Let fanes and tree-roots give thee rest, 
 The ground a bed, deer-skins a vest ; 
 For, is there any, that doth find. 
 With passion gone, no bliss of mind ? 
 
 The boy is only fond of play, 
 And with a maid the youth is gay, 
 The old man is immersed in care, 
 But no one clings to Brahma e'er. 
 
 A foe or friend, a son or mate, 
 
 Treat thou with neither love nor hate ; 
 
 Be equal-minded ev'r3rwhere. 
 
 If thou for Vishnuhood dost care. 
 
 As thou wast born, so shalt thou die. 
 And in a mother's womb shalt he ; 
 This evil of the world is plain ; — 
 What bliss, then, wilt thou hope to gain ? 
 
 Lo, day and night, and eve and mom. 
 And spring and winter, all return ; 
 Time flies, the term of life is done — 
 Yet airy hope is left by none. 
 
THE CLUB THAT SHATTERS ERROR. 23 
 
 Thy frame is faded, gray thy head, 
 Thy gum hath all its teeth now shed, 
 Thy hand-held stick doth tremble fair, — 
 Yet brittle hope thou leavest ne'er. 
 
 In thee, in me, elsewhere is He ; 
 In vain thou waxest wroth with me ; 
 Man ! in thyself all selves behold. 
 And sense of difference withhold. 
 
 These sixteen quatrains sweetly thought 
 To pupils often should be taught ; 
 What further can I do for those 
 Whose brains with this will not unclose ? 
 
 May, 1899. 
 
 [Note. — Those who are interested in the Vedanta philosophy of 
 Sankara, who is a sort of an Eastern Fichtc, maintaing the 
 reality of the Absolute Ego and the unreality of the external 
 world, should read Thibaut's translation of the Vedanta Sutra 
 and Bhashya. They should also ask themselves : " What has 
 this worldless asceticism to do with our work-day world ? "] 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 
 
 (From the so-called Vyasa). 
 Book II. — Devotion through the Sankhya. 
 
 UNTO him — thus moved by passion, with his 
 courage waxing weak, 
 With his eyes bedew'd and swollen — did the 
 Slayer of Madhu speak. 
 
 (Krishna). 
 
 "Whence hath come on thee this sadness, Arjun, at 
 
 the time of need ? — 
 Quite ignoble, uncelestial, it will not to glory lead. 
 
 " Yield not unto weakness, Arjun ; this is unbecoming 
 
 now; 
 Casting off thy bosom's faintness, rise, O slayer of 
 
 foemen thou." 
 
 (Arjun). 
 
 "How shall I, O Slayer of Madhu, with my shafts 
 
 assail to-day 
 Bhishma and my tutor Drona — ^worthy of my honour 
 
 they ? 
 
 "Rather live on alms, than murder these superiors 
 
 noble-soul' d ; 
 I should feed on blood-stain'd viands, if I slew them 
 
 seeking gold ! 
 
 ** For, we wot not which is better : loss or vict'ry in 
 
 the strife ? 
 Lo ! the Dhartarashtras beard us, in whose death we 
 
 seek not Hfe ! 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 25 
 
 " Struck at heart with guilt and passion, with confounded 
 
 mind, I pray, 
 Say what's better — I, thy pupil, come to thee for refuge, 
 
 say ! 
 
 *' For I see not how this sorrow, drying my senses, 
 
 can be driven, 
 Tho' be mine a sway unstinted over earth or over 
 
 heaven." 
 
 So the doughty Lord of Slumber to the Lord of Senses 
 
 spake ; 
 ** Fight I will not," to the Cowherd spake he, and no 
 
 sound did make. 
 
 Unto him whose heart was sinking, unto him in words 
 
 of jest 
 Spake the Senses' Lord, O Bhirat, right between the 
 
 armies' best. 
 
 (Krishna). 
 
 " Thou hast grieved for whom thou shouldst not ; words 
 
 of wisdom yet hast said ; — 
 Now the wise would never grieve for or the living or 
 
 the dead. 
 
 " Nor is it that I have not been, no, nor thou, nor all 
 
 these kings ; 
 Nor is it that we shall not be, after all these worldly 
 
 things. 
 
 " As the 'bodied soul in body suffers childhood, youth 
 
 and age. 
 So it gets another body ; — this will not afflict the 
 
 sage. 
 
26 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Contacts with the earthly, causing cold and heat, 
 
 delight and pain, 
 Come and go, for they are fleeting ; child of Bharat, 
 
 bear them sane. 
 
 " For the man whom these afflict not, who is firm in 
 
 weal and woe — 
 Best of men ! the man is destined mito deathlessness to go. 
 
 " What is not can ne*er be, Arjun ; that which is can 
 
 ne'er not-be ; 
 Of these two they see the Umit, who the truth of things 
 
 can see. 
 
 " Know that That Which spread out All This, is indeed 
 
 imperishing ; 
 None can ever cause to perish That Which is a waneless 
 
 thing. 
 
 *' These are call'd the dying bodies of the 'bodied soul 
 
 of men. 
 Which is changeless, deathless, boundless ; child of 
 
 Bharat, fight thou then. 
 
 " He who deems the soul a killer, he who deems it 
 
 kiU'd again. 
 Neither of them seeth rightly, for it slays not, nor is slain. 
 
 ** And 'tis never born, it dies not ; was not born, nor 
 
 will be so ; 
 Birthless, changeless, prime, eternal, deathless, tho* 
 
 the frame may go. 
 
 " How can he who knows it to be deathless, birthless, 
 
 free from wane — 
 How can he, O son of Pritha, slay one, cause one to be 
 
 slain ? 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 27 
 
 " As a man leaves ragged garments and resorts to newer 
 
 clothes, 
 So the soul leaves worn-out bodies and to newer bodies 
 
 goes. 
 
 " It cannot be cleaved by weapons, it cannot be burnt 
 
 by fire, 
 It cannot be spoilt by water, it cannot be dried by air ; 
 
 " It cannot be cleaved or burnt out, it cannot be spoilt 
 
 or dried, 
 Present ev'rjAvhere, eternal, firm, unmoving, sure to 
 
 bide; 
 
 *' It cannot be felt or thought of, it cannot be changed, 
 
 'tis shown ; — 
 Wherefore, knowing thus its nature, it behoves thee not 
 
 to groan. 
 
 " And if thou dost think it to be ever born or ever dying, 
 Even then it is not proper, mighty-arm'd, to be thus 
 sighing. 
 
 " For, the born shall die for certain, and the dead again 
 
 be born ; 
 Wherefore, it is not becoming over reachless things to 
 
 mourn. 
 
 " Both the primal and the final states of beings are 
 
 unseen ; 
 Only seen the middle state is ; — there is nought to 
 
 mourn, I ween. 
 
 " Some men look on this as wondrous ; this as wondrous 
 
 some proclaim ; 
 Others hear of this as wondrous ; hearing, few can 
 
 know the same. 
 
28 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Since in each one's body never can the 'bodied soul be 
 
 slain, 
 Child of Bharat, 'tis not proper over all to mourn in vain. 
 
 " Tis not meet for thee to falter, looking to thy duty 
 
 right; 
 To a Kshatra there is nothing better than a righteous 
 
 fight. 
 
 " Happy are the Kshatras, Partha, unto whom is freely 
 
 given 
 Such a righteous fight and holy as an open door to 
 
 heaven. 
 
 " Such a righteous fight and holy if thou wilt not 
 
 seek to win, 
 Then, thro* fame and duty quitted, thou wilt be attack'd 
 
 by sin. 
 
 " Then mankind thy sharne undying will for evermore 
 
 proclaim ; 
 To a man that was in honour worse by far than death 
 
 is shame. 
 
 " And these car-borne chiefs will fancy thou hast fled 
 
 the field thro' fear ; 
 Thou who wast so highly thought of wilt be deem'd a 
 
 coward mere. 
 
 " And thy foes will speak such language as should not 
 
 be spoke of thee. 
 Laying blame upon thy prowess ; tell me, what can 
 
 sadder be ? 
 
 " Being slain, thou gainest heaven ; winning, hast the 
 
 earth in sway ; 
 Therefore rise, O son of Kunti, firmly bent upon the fray. 
 
THE LAY OF THE LORD. 29 
 
 " Deeming equal pain and pleasure, death and conquest, 
 loss and gain, 
 I Gird thyself up for the battle ; thus no sin thou wilt 
 sustain. 
 
 " Now this view is from the Sankhya ; hear the Yoga 
 
 teaching now ; 
 Thou wilt leave the bonds of action, when on this is 
 
 set thy vow. 
 
 " Here can be no waste of effort, here no detriment 
 
 can be. 
 Just a little of this tenet from great terror makes one 
 
 free ! 
 
 " One this view, O son of Kuru, which is always constant 
 
 found ; 
 But the views of men inconstant, many-branch'd and 
 
 with no bound. 
 
 *' Flowery speech is often spoken, Partha, by the fools 
 
 unfair. 
 Ready to discuss the Vedas,saying ' Nothing else is there,' 
 
 ** Lusty-soul* d, and seeking heaven for the gain of bUss 
 
 or might. 
 Ample fruit of this world's action, which is great thro* 
 
 varied rite. 
 
 ** These men's view, who are in quest of bUss and might, 
 
 whose minds are fed 
 With that speech — ^is never constant, when to meditation 
 
 wed. 
 
 *' Of the Three Modes treat the Vedas ; Arjun, ^^i rid 
 
 of the three ; 
 Get rid of the Pairs Opposing, and in Goodness ever be ; 
 
30 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Get rid of the vain desire of owning what thou ownest 
 
 not 
 And of keeping what thou ownest ; last, possess thee 
 
 in thy lot." 
 
 August — September, 1899. 
 
 [Note.— Observe the fine exposition of the theory of metempsy- 
 chosis, which we first get in the West in Pythagoras. 
 Goodness— Compare Aristotle's to /jl€<tov. Those who wish 
 to have some idea of the rest of this philosophic poem should 
 consult Barnett's " Brahma-Knowledge " and Davies's prose 
 translation of the Lay.] 
 
IN THE GLOOM. 
 
 {From Mrs. Roy). 
 
 CREATURES we are of gloom ! 
 In gloom awhile we play. 
 In gloom doth melt away 
 The mart of life and bloom. 
 
 Whence come, and whither bomid ? — 
 
 This mighty mystery 
 
 Of how and why we be 
 How few, how few have found ! 
 
 There, thro' the gloomy wood, 
 
 A dim dark ray is seen ; 
 
 Who knows whence it hath been ? 
 Its beauty who hath view'd ? 
 
 As long as life may stay, 
 
 Since certain is the doom 
 
 That we must move thro' gloom, 
 
 O seek and chase the ray. 
 
 O onward let us hie 
 
 In quest of yonder ray ; 
 
 What, if we fail ? away ! 
 In yonder hght we'll die. 
 
 Amid this solemn gloom, 
 
 Seek we and follow we 
 
 The little light we see ; 
 Therein we'll play, O come. 
 
 September, 1899. 
 
 j^oxe: — The very first poem in Mrs. Roy's "Light and Shade** 
 is " In the Gloom " ; but the very next one shows her " In the 
 Light." This duality of mood is peculiar to her temperament.] 
 
IN THE LIGHT. 
 
 (From Mrs. Roy). 
 
 CHILDREN we are of Ught : 
 O what a concourse bright ! 
 In light we sleep and wake, 
 And life's carousal take. 
 
 Life's endless candles see 
 Beneath one canopy, 
 Beneath one Day-god's ray, 
 Fade, fade and fade away. 
 
 Amid this splendid light 
 No more we lose our sight, 
 No more we wander blind 
 Where we the path can find, 
 
 September, 1899. 
 [NOTB :— Mrs. Roy's " L' Allegro" comes after her " II Pensieroso."] 
 
B 
 
 THE FAIR MARTYRS, 
 
 {From a Bengali Song). 
 LAZE, blaze thy last and brightest. 
 
 Thou fiendly-friendly pyre : 
 The chaste will cast their bodies 
 Upon thy mouth of fire. 
 Blaze, blaze, and in a moment 
 Our burnings will be o'er ; 
 O Chitor, crown of Princeland, 
 Farewell for evermore ! 
 
 List, list, ye sons of Islam, 
 
 The ever-blazing pain 
 Ye raise within our bosoms 
 
 Will never go in vain. 
 Ye Moslems iron-hearted. 
 
 Ye may not hear our cry ; 
 That Judge Whose ear is open 
 
 Will listen from on high. 
 
 Look, look how all the women, 
 
 To shun undying shame. 
 Resign their dying bodies 
 
 Unto the jaws of flame. 
 Come, sisters, come, O maidens, 
 
 Take leave here the earth. 
 Be true unto the nation 
 
 To which we owe our birth. 
 
 Let us, ere all our feelings 
 
 Are thaw'd away by death. 
 
 Let us, ere we are ashes. 
 
 Breathe out one last long breatn ; 
 
34 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 For, ne'er shall bard of Chitor 
 
 In after ages say 
 We chose the gloss of pleasure 
 
 And flung the gem away. 
 
 Blaze, blaze thy last and brightest. 
 
 Thou fiendly-friendly pyre : 
 The chaste will cast their bodies 
 
 Upon thy mouth of fire. 
 Look, look, ye heartless Moslems, 
 
 Look how we shun disgrace — 
 We will be burnt to ashes, 
 
 Yet never stain our race. 
 
 Come, sisters, come, O maidens, 
 
 Why do we make delay ? 
 O wear the crown of glory 
 
 By throwing hfe away. 
 Look, look with eyes wide open. 
 
 Thou earth, thou moon, thou sky ; 
 Write, write in starry letters, 
 
 Ye gods that dwell on high. 
 
 October, 1899. 
 
 [Note : — This refers to one of the saddest chapters of Indian 
 history, when Hindus and Muhammadans were constantly at 
 war ; consult Todd's " Rajasthan."] 
 
k 
 
 T 
 
 THE SWORN HERO. 
 
 (From Roby Tagore). 
 IS for thee, O mother mine, 
 
 My limbs I throw away ; 
 'Tis for thee, O mother mine, 
 My Ufe adown I lay. 
 *Tis thy wrong, O mother mine, 
 
 My tears from eyes will wring ; 
 Tis thy song, O mother mine, 
 My lyre will ever sing. 
 
 Tho' this arm be weak and frail, 
 
 Yet it will do thy deed ; 
 The' this sword with rust be stain' d. 
 
 Yet it will have thee freed. 
 The' this lyre contain no fire, 
 
 No power, welladay ! — 
 What know I ? — one son of thine 
 
 May wake to hear its lay ! 
 
 October, 1899. 
 [Note :— There is a pathetic tone about this patriotism.] 
 
THE DAWN-BRIDE. 
 
 (From Kristo Mazumdar). 
 
 TELL me, tell me, happy Dawn, 
 Who hath made thee fine, 
 Left that round vermilion tinge 
 On that brow of thine ? 
 Gently, gently dost thou smile. 
 
 Steeping us in joy : 
 Who hath taught thee such a smile. 
 Such an aspect coy ? 
 
 Whom dost thou sing in the grove 
 
 To thine utmost power ? 
 Whom wilt thou, O fairy Dawn, 
 
 Give those gifts of flower ? 
 At Whom castest thou that gaze. 
 
 Opening wide thine eye ? 
 For Whom sheddest thou those teais. 
 
 Heaving deep thy sigh ? 
 
 Just now ev'ry Ufe was still, 
 
 Half-dead half-alive : 
 Lo ! thy weird and welcome sight 
 
 Bids them all revive. 
 Show me, show me, happy Dawn, 
 
 That great King of Heaven 
 Who this grand enlivening power 
 
 Unto thee hath given. 
 
 November, 1899. 
 
 [Note : — The Dawn- Bride remicds one almost of the Vedic Dawn- 
 Goddess] 
 
MARY STUART'S FAREWELL TO 
 FRANCE. 
 
 {From Beranger). 
 
 FARE thee well, sweet land of France, 
 Which I should hold so high ! 
 Cradle of my happy prime, 
 To leave thee is to die. 
 
 Me from thee, my chosen land, 
 
 The cruel Fates will sever ; 
 Hearken Mary's farewell song, 
 
 Remember her for ever. 
 
 Blows the wind ; we leave the strand ; 
 
 In vain my sobs must be : 
 Heaven hath not swell'd the waves 
 
 To give me back to thee. 
 
 When the HHes first I wore 
 
 Before thy people's sight, 
 They admired my queenly rank 
 
 Less than my beauty bright. 
 
 Queenship 'midst the gloomy Scots 
 
 Awaits me all in vain : 
 I could only be a queen 
 
 O'er Frenchmen bright to reign. 
 
 Love, and glory, genius too. 
 
 Have dazzled all my prime : 
 
 Dark, too dark alas ! will prove 
 In Scotland rude my time. 
 
 O that dream, that evil dream ! 
 
 I saw — ah, did I see ? — 
 Deep thro' slumber's mystic eyes 
 
 A scaffold built for me ! 
 
38 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 France ! to thee the Stuart queen 
 
 Will, from amidst her fears, 
 Turn her eyes as on this day. 
 
 The witness of her tears. 
 
 But lo, under other skies 
 
 The ship hath 'gun to sail, 
 And the night conceals thy shores 
 
 Within her misty veil. 
 
 Fare thee well, sweet land of France, 
 Which I should hold so high ! 
 
 Cradle of my happy prime. 
 To leave thee is to die. 
 
 December, 1899. 
 
 [Note :— I know of nothing so sad, and therefore so sweet, as this 
 picture of the great Queen of the Scots.] 
 
F 
 
 ENEAS' PRAYER TO APOLLO. 
 
 (From Vergil). 
 (EBUS, thou that ruest lUon's heavy woes of old, 
 
 By whose aid the weapons and the arms of Paris 
 bold 
 On the charmed body of the great Achilles told, 
 
 Thou my guide, I enter'd oceans washing mighty lands. 
 Far-off realms and kingdoms, and the great Massylian 
 
 bands 
 Far away in Libya, and the Syrtes' vasty sands : 
 
 Now at last we seize the ever-flying Western Shore, 
 Stand upon thy threshold, tired of wind and wave and 
 
 oar. 
 Tired in mind and body, longing not to wander more. 
 
 Thus far and no further may the heavy luck of Troy 
 Follow us, O Phoebus ; let us clutch the peaceful joy 
 Sliding off for ever Uke a ball before a boy. 
 
 For, enough of action and of motion we have had 
 In the deep mid-ocean foaming hke a charger mad, 
 When the loss undreamt-of of our steersman made us sad. 
 
 Juno and Minerva, Neptune, and ye godheads rude, 
 Whom the mighty glory of the Dardan land withstood. 
 You, too, now behove th to be more humane and good. 
 
 Thou, O holy maiden, who foreknowest what will be. 
 Give — I ask not kingdoms, which were never due to me — 
 Me, my soldiers, and my godheads weary of the sea. 
 
 To repose in Latium ; then for Phoebus I will raise 
 Many a holy temple, with the dawn of better days, 
 Fair as any temple ever sung in olden lays. 
 
40 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 For, we ask no longer for the swiftness of the wind, 
 Weary of its ravings, weary both in frame and mind ; 
 Let us here, O Phoebus, Hve and ever He reclined. 
 
 Let us here, O Phoebus, rest a Httle from the toil 
 We had in the ocean and in Ilion's land of broil ; 
 Let us rest a Httle, settle slowly in the soil. 
 
 December, 1899. 
 
 [Note :— I am indebted to Tennyson's " Lotos-Eaters " for some 
 tarns of expression in this rendering.] 
 
FROM GOPA TO THE BUDDHA. 
 
 (From Mrs. Roy). 
 
 IF indeed, O Goutam, I am in thy way 
 Nothing but a barrier, — bid me step away ; 
 I will show no longer this unhallow'd face. 
 Ask of thee no longer love or any grace. 
 Chase alone thy projects, may thy hopes be crown'd. 
 Let me in a comer he without a sound. 
 In thy glory, Goutam, all my pride shall be — 
 In thy lapse, my dearest, pain shall rise in me ; 
 In thy sorrow, Goutam, sorrow must I feel — 
 In thy weal, my dearest, must I find my weal. 
 
 Twas my joy to serve thee ; since thy bests I got 
 All my heart was sated — nothing else I sought. 
 If that pleasure also I may have no more — 
 Which I prized and valued other things before — 
 If that pleasure also must from me depart. 
 Go thou as thou wishest, treading on my heart. 
 
 Restless is thy bosom, lustreless thine eye. 
 Oftentimes thou sayest " Let me quickly fly 
 To a lonesome forest, ere these shadows vain 
 O'er my feeble bosom lawless power gain : 
 In a mire my feet are, and the more I try 
 To emerge, the deeper sunk in mud am I ! " 
 Am I, dearest Goutam, such a mire to thee, 
 Such a mighty barrier ? — Go thou, leaving me. 
 
 Oh, when they in childhood knit us hand to hand, 
 Heart to heart they could not tie us by the band ! 
 
42 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 For the light of wisdom ran thy noble hope, 
 While in utter darkness I began to grope. 
 Past is golden childhood, rosy youth is gone, ' 
 Still each other's bosom we have not yet known ! 
 Twas an ill-yoked wedding — darkness yoked with Ught ! 
 This is why, O Goutam, thou dost hate my sight. 
 
 What rich mine, I pray thee, hast thou chanced to see 
 That these vasty riches have no charm for thee ? 
 What acute discerning have thine eyes attain' d 
 That this mighty palace is to be disdain' d ? 
 What acute discerning, what rich mine, my dear. 
 Make thee sUght all pleasure ? — tell me with no fear. 
 At thy feet how often doth my restless heart 
 Long to learn the wisdom, by whose aid thou art 
 Richer than the richest, thro' the lack of which 
 Void is all my beauty, void my trinkets rich ! 
 Vain that hope, no longer in this way unmeet 
 Like a thorn shall Gopa he beside thy feet : 
 Like a mire no longer shall she clog thy way : 
 Let her, blind as she is, with her darkness stay. 
 
 Thou wouldst be the Buddha, from all error free. 
 And on earth a wiser should not, should not be : 
 Thou wouldst know the secret of the human Hfe, 
 Thou wouldst con the riddle — how to win the strife. 
 Oft I hear thee whisper " Life is hke the spark 
 Kindled by the striking of two flint-stones dark ; 
 Life is hke the music shaken by the strings 
 Of a lyre all feeble, fading as it rings ; 
 There is some high wisdom, which once found will give 
 Rest and sweet extinction unto all that Hve," 
 
FROM GOPA TO THE BUDDA. 43 
 
 Go thou, sweetest Goutam, go thou in the quest 
 Of that happy wisdom which will give thee rest : 
 By my weight why should I, I who cannot swim, 
 Clog and drown my divemate, kill both me and him ? 
 
 March, 1900. 
 
 [Note : — Here we get an insight into the mind of the poetess. 
 The names " Goutam " and " Gopa " are my own insertions. 
 I have also inserted the five opening couplets of the last stanza, 
 the main idea of which is taken from Max Miiller's essay on 
 the Buddha in his " Chips from a German Workshop."] 
 
FROM JANA TO NILADHVAJA. 
 
 (From Michael M, S. Dutt), 
 
 HARK, the war-drums pealing at the royal gate ! 
 Lo, the banners waving in majestic state ! 
 Elephants in harness trumpet day and night, 
 Barded stallions whinny in their zeal for fight, 
 And the royal soldiers known for hardihood 
 Arm themselves all gorgeous in a warlike mood ! 
 Wherefore all this bustle ? — waging war, I ween, 
 For the death of Pravir, with the traitor mean ? 
 
 This is what becomes thee, hero true thou art — 
 
 Go thou forth to battle with a fiery heart ! 
 
 Shed no tear, my monarch, o'er thy darling's fate — 
 
 He is gone as mortals must be soon or late : 
 
 Go thou forth and straightway sheathe thy naked blade 
 
 In the heart of Arjim till the debt be paid ; 
 
 Drench O drench thy sabre in the traitor's gore, 
 
 And this restless burning I shall feel no more ! 
 
 But alas, mad Jana hopes what cannot be. 
 For the traitor sitteth yet in court by thee ; 
 Yet within the palace rings the cithern's sound 
 Waked by Hght-clad women as they caper round. 
 What a shame ! O heaven ! whither shall I flee ? 
 Who will, Niladhvaja, Hst and comfort me ? 
 What is it they tell me ? — thou hast made thine own 
 Him who slew thy darling ! — ^set him on thy throne. 
 
 Ah, the gloomy fortune by whose shadow dense 
 All thy realm is clouded, also clouds thy sense. 
 Else, I pray thee, wherefore do they say, my lord. 
 Thou hast crown' d him monarch who was once abhorr'd ? 
 
FROM JANA TO NILADHVAJA. 45 
 
 How dost thou, my monarch, in a friendly way 
 Take the hand that paused not thine own child to slay 
 Is it like a father, like a warrior true, 
 Like the man that thou art, tell me, hero new ? 
 Where is now thy horn-bow ? where thy thirsty blade ? 
 Meanest thou to wield them till the debt be paid ? 
 What will people whisper when this tale of shame 
 Will be widely wafted to defile thy name ? 
 
 And I hear that Arjun is revered by thee 
 
 As the doughtiest warrior Earth did ever see. 
 
 Oh how false the honour ! let me show thee, king, 
 
 What he is — a coward and a craven thing : 
 
 At Panchala's tourney — ^judge, my monarch wise — 
 
 Many a king he cheated with the priest's disguise ; 
 
 In the plains of Kuru, to his nature true, 
 
 By Sikhandin holpen, Bhishma old he slew, 
 
 Slew his master Drona, slew him by a trick ; — 
 
 Yet the feet of Arjun thou art fain to hck ! 
 
 These thou knowest fully, yet thou reckest not : 
 
 Oh the stain thy fawning on thy race hath brought ! 
 
 Think O think upon it : shall I curse thee ? nay, 
 
 Thou art of my betters, nothing will I say. 
 
 Ah mine eyes, why shed ye bitter drops of tear ? — 
 Who was wont to wipe you is no longer here. 
 Ah my heart, why madly, madly bumest thou ? 
 Who will soothe thine aihng ? Where is Pravir now ? 
 Sore the doom I suffer by the will of Heaven, 
 And I take the fortune which my God hath given ; 
 Lo, by thee forsaken, I am still at ease — 
 Heaven is my harbour, and His name my peace. 
 
 Grief hath made me aged — ^long I may not say — 
 Ere my leave is taken, this, my last, I say : 
 
46 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Serve no more that traitor, serve no more that lust, 
 Lend thy heart to virtue, build on her thy trust ; 
 Bum O bum within thee for what thou hast done, 
 And thy bosom will be sheeny as the sun. 
 
 Now the end is coming, death is on thy wife, 
 And thou shalt no longer see her in this Ufe. 
 If thou wailest wildly " Where is J ana dear ? " — 
 Echo will but answer " Where is J ana dear ? " 
 
 March, 1900. 
 
 [Note :— This is one of the most interesting side-stories of the 
 Mahabharata. Here we meet with a typically high-minded 
 woman of the epic age.] 
 
FROM KEKAYI TO DASARATHA. 
 
 (From Michael M. S. DuU.) 
 
 WHAT is it, O Raghav, from my maid I hear ? 
 Yet, a low-born woman, she may lie, I fear. 
 Why are all the burghers drown'd in 
 festive mirth, 
 Sterwing leaves and garlands on the dewy earth ? 
 Why at ev'ry portal doth the gateman stand 
 Showering new-blown flowerets with a bounteous hand ? 
 Why are pennons waving over ev'ry house ? 
 Why do men and women revel and carouse ? 
 Why do royal soldiers, foot and horse and all, 
 Loiter gaily-harness'd near the council-hall ? 
 Why without the palace rings the cithern's sound 
 Waked by light- clad women as they caper round ? 
 Say why Queen Kousalya with ungrudging hand 
 Doles out alms to paupers caU'd from ev'ry land ; 
 Say why Janak's daughter, fraught with glee to-day, 
 Clogs her beauteous body full of trinkets gay ; 
 For what holy purpose, in the temples proud. 
 Prayerful priest and Brahman sound the conch so loud. 
 Tell me, why is all this pomp of ritual done ? 
 Hath a foe been taken, or a kingdom won ? 
 Fie to thee, my monarch ! — nothing will I say — 
 Thou art of my betters ; else, this very day. 
 With this tongue I would have told thee to thy face, 
 *' Raghav is a liar, he hath shamed his race." 
 
 If one falsehood ever pass these lips of mine, 
 Come thou and behead me and my dues assign. 
 Just and true my censure — thou hast told a lie, i 
 
 And thy deed will gather from all people " Fie ! " 
 How wilt thou, O Raghav, show thy face again 
 
48 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 To the city-people, to the council-men ? 
 People call thee pious, ever fond of truth : 
 Why, then, do I hearken — answer me in sooth- 
 Why, then, do I hearken, that thou wilt install 
 Queen Kousalya's darling as the Lord of all ? 
 Where is sweetest Bharat ? must I, must I bring 
 Once again those stories to thy mind, O King ? 
 Must I yet remind thee that in days of yore 
 It was I who heal'd thee of that arrow's sore ? 
 Didst thou not, I pray thee, pledge thy royal word 
 That I may be granted two requests, my lord ? 
 By one boon — and why not ? — ^let Kousalya's child 
 From this royal city be at once exiled ; 
 Ay, and by the other let my darling son 
 Rule the realm of Kosal, seated on thy throne. 
 
 Yet, alas, why am I throwing words away ? 
 Do thou as thou wishest, nothing will I say : 
 Whose the will can alter what is in thy mind ? 
 Who can stem a current or a lion bind ? 
 If I be not granted those two boons of mine, 
 I will dwell no longer in this town of thine : 
 Far and wide I'll wander, chanting ev'rywhere, 
 " Lo ! the Raghu King is cruel and unfair." 
 Unto all I'll whisper, men and women too, 
 " Lo ! the Raghu King is cruel and untrue." 
 And a pair of parrots I will tame, O King, 
 Speak to them thy hardness and each little thing : 
 They shall fly at pleasure, singing ev'rywhere, 
 " Lo ! the Raghu King is cruel and unfair." 
 TiU the world will echo with a music rare, 
 ** Lo ! the Raghu King is cruel and unfair." 
 On the tops of mountains I will write, my lord, 
 " Lo ! the Raghu King is faithless to his word." 
 
FROM KEKAYI TO DASARATHA. 49 
 
 I will teach the striplings of the street to sing, 
 " Lo ! the Raghu King is such a lying king." 
 
 If one grain of virtue lingers 'neath the sun, 
 Thou wilt have to suffer for what thou hast done. 
 LOj my hopes are blasted, which thou gavest me ; 
 And a dire requital in due course shall be. 
 Live with her, I pray thee, live with her, I say, 
 Whom thou lovest truly : let me step away. 
 I will bid sweet Bharat with my father live, 
 Pleased with all the pleasiue truth and virtue give : 
 He shall never enter this pernicious town. 
 Where the claims of virtue vice can trample down ! 
 
 March, 1900. 
 
 [Note:— The whole of the Raraay ana seems to me based on this 
 part of the story. The characterisation of tactful Kekayi is a 
 masterpiece.] 
 
FROM SAKUNTALA TO DUSHYANTA. 
 
 (From Michael M. S. Dutt), 
 
 TAKE O take this leaflet, Lord of aU the Earth, 
 From the silvan maiden, howso void of worth. 
 Her thou hast forgotten ; yet can she forget 
 Thee on whom for ever all her soul is set ? 
 
 Ah my madding bosom ! — Hope hath hoodwink'd me 5 
 
 For, as soon a dust-cloud in the sky I see, 
 
 Or as soon a murmur of the wind I list 
 
 Rounding all his love-glow to the pine half-whist, 
 
 Up I start in wonder, weening that a band 
 
 Now at last is coming to this forest-land ! 
 
 Nay, sometimes I mutter like a fool aghast, 
 
 " Lo ! my lord hath call'd me back to mind at last : 
 
 Is not there a dust-cloud fleering at the sky ? 
 
 List ye not the hoof -beat slowly drawing nigh ? ** 
 
 With a cast of sadness and with soulful eyes 
 
 Wheel away my maidens as my pangs arise. 
 
 Need I vex thee further ? Hour by hour I thirst 
 For yon happy pine-grove where I met thee first, 
 Hour by hour wend thither, view each new-blown flower. 
 And each light-leaved creeper gadding in the bower ; 
 There I hear the whistle of the river-breeze, 
 And the cuckoo's warble, and the hum of bees ; 
 There I catch the cooing of the woodland dove 
 Roosted on the tree-top close beside his love. 
 To the bee I murmur," Mellow-humming bee. 
 Dost thou make thy moaning, say O say, for me ? '* 
 And I ask the cuckoo, " Wherefore dost thou pour. 
 Warbler of the woodland, all thy music-store ? " 
 
51 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 To the flowers I prattle, "Do ye softly smile, 
 
 Gems of all the woodland, at my lover's guile ? " • 
 
 And I press the river, " With thy murmuring 
 
 Dost thou blame the falsehood of the faithless King ? " 
 
 To the leaf I whisper, ** Garment of the trees, 
 
 Thou, when fresh, art fondled by the forest-breeze ; 
 
 But when once thy favour waxeth pale and sere, 
 
 Will the breeze, O prythee, dream of drawing near ? 
 
 Garment of the arbour, tell me verily. 
 
 If in that same fashion he hath quitted me." 
 
 With mine eyes half-open, 'neath the mango-grove 
 
 Oft I sit reclining lost in thoughts of love. 
 
 Should I list a footfall hard beside my seat — 
 
 Joy and shame and wonder make my bosom beat ; 
 
 When I look around me, nothing do I find 
 
 Save one vacant shadow and the silvan hind ! 
 
 With a flaming bosom and with flowing eyes 
 
 To yon bower I hurry, where, thro' dread of spies ^ 
 
 In the creepers hidden, unto thee I wrote 
 
 Yon delightful ditties and yon grateful note ; 
 
 Where, appearing sudden on a shady noon. 
 
 Thou didst soothe my burning, wake me from my swoon ! 
 
 No one in this woodland knows my tale of woe, 
 Save two gentle maidens : whither shaU I go ? 
 Unto whom, O Pourav, shall I pour my plaint ? 
 Who will in mine ailing help my spirit faint ? 
 When my maidens near me, tears bedim mine eye, 
 For they blame my lover, cry upon him fie : 
 Like a dart their censure thrills into my heart — 
 Answer them I cannot, while I feel the smart ! 
 
 And, of other places, oft I seek yon tree,\^!^ 
 'Neath whose hoary shadow thou didst marry me 
 
FROM SAKUNTALA TO DUSHYANTA. 52 
 
 In the old old fashion, golden-favour'd youth, 
 Calling Truth to witness, holder-up of Truth : 
 Guess O guess what feehng wakes in me anew 
 When yon bower I enter and yon tree I view ! 
 
 Oft I lose my senses, dreaming of my lord, 
 Whom as yet I find not faithful to his word ! 
 To his mind forgetful once again I bring 
 What he plainly promised when he gave the ring : 
 " Daily count a letter chased upon it, dear ; 
 And, thy counting over, lo ! my man is here." 
 
 Oft I lose my senses, battening on thy face, 
 Battening on thy simper all too sweet to trace : 
 Thee I find before me, thee I seek to clasp, 
 But my mind-made shadow soon eludes my grasp ! 
 Who can say why torments chase me in this way ? 
 Gloomy all my life is, gloomy with no ray. 
 Thou alone art able to reUeve my woe, 
 Light away my twihght, bid my bosom glow. 
 Royal pomp I seek not : 'tis thy love alone 
 Which I lack, O Pourav, and for which I moan. 
 
 March, 1900. 
 
 [Note: — Here, as in the previous two epistles, Michael Dutt's 
 model was Ovid's " Heroides." He was doubtless inspired by 
 Kalidasa's " Sakuntala and her Keepsake," which is based on an 
 episode of the Mahabharata. The artlessness of Sakuntala 
 is highly telling ; compare Miranda in Shakespeare's 
 "Tempest."] 
 
HOW THE SUNS WERE MADE, 
 
 {From Jo gen Bose), 
 
 HO gods and angels, heirs of heaven, 
 Make ye the Spirit-region gay, 
 For God's own order hath been given — 
 " The Stars will all be made to-day." 
 
 By Him pervaded, pure, unborn. 
 
 With joy the Spirit-region rings ; 
 Beam after beam in golden stream 
 
 From out its glowing bosom springs. 
 
 The Bloom of Love is blowing fair, 
 The Spring of Joyance spouts forth glee, 
 
 " Peace, Peace " is ringing everywhere 
 In strains of choral symphony. 
 
 There thro' that region — space or land — 
 
 The Triune Being takes His seat 
 Upon an endless throne and grand, 
 
 With myriad systems at His feet. 
 
 Within His Being lie conceal'd 
 
 A myriad planet-pregnant Suns ; 
 All Love is He, the Spring of Glee, 
 
 The Well of Life and Light at once. 
 
 Transcendent over Time and Space, 
 The Spaceless Timeless Spirit shone 
 
 Before the eye of seraphs high 
 And angels glorying in their dawn. 
 
 With bended heads and folded hands. 
 
 The gods and angels loudly sing 
 Hosannas sweet, — ethereal bands. 
 
 Whose chantings never cease to ring. 
 
54 ECHOES FROM^EAST AND WEST, 
 
 Amazed at what they never saw, 
 They send their voices all around 
 
 In ardent love and earnest awe, 
 While dews upon their cheeks are found : 
 
 " O blessed Spirit ! V Lord of All ! 
 
 Without beginning, mean or end ! 
 Almighty Maker, at Whose call 
 
 We rose, and on Whom we depend ! 
 
 " No light was there, no radiance, none ; 
 
 There was no darkness, no, nor shade ; 
 There was no Space : in nothing's place 
 
 This radiant region Thou hast made. 
 
 " From naked nothing rose these gods. 
 These countless angels, at Thy voice ; 
 
 And at Thy nod, Eternal God, 
 They smile, they praise Thee, and rejoice. 
 
 " To-day the Stars will all be made, 
 Almighty Maker, at Thy will ; 
 
 And we shall see, all full of glee, 
 
 What-hke the Stars are, praise Thee still. 
 
 " And we shall see how thro' all Space, 
 Amid a burst of light and heat, 
 
 The darting Suns will run apace 
 
 With planets rolling round them fleet. 
 
 " O blessed Spirit ! Lord of All ! 
 
 Without beginning, mean or end ! 
 Almighty Maker, at Whose call 
 
 We rose, and on Whom we depend ! " 
 
HOW THE SUNS WERE MADE. 55 
 
 Then, rising from His musings grave, 
 To build the orbs of quenchless fiame, 
 
 With sheeny gods and angels brave. 
 The Power Eternal quickly came 
 
 To where, for endless ages. Night 
 
 Had cast her shadows black with dirt 
 
 And all the blacker to the sight 
 Of gods and angels glory-girt ; 
 
 Where Nature, like a slattern young. 
 Made heard her peals of laughter clear. 
 
 Her peals of laughter loud and long 
 And almost rendering deaf the ear ; 
 
 Where endless heaps of atoms lay 
 
 All roaring like a billowy sea, 
 For myriad leagues in ceaseless fray, 
 
 Without the slightest harmony. 
 
 That grim and grisly vision fills 
 
 The gods and angels full of awe ; 
 ** O save us all," they loudly call, 
 
 " For such a sight we never saw." 
 
 When on revolting Nature lit 
 
 The Potent Spirit of the Lord, 
 Her madness ceased, and from her fit 
 
 She rose, submissive to His word. 
 
 The roar of atoms ceased at once, 
 The laughter-peal became quite dead, 
 
 And Nature fair arising there ' > 
 
 Before her Maker bow'd her head. ' * 
 
56 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Upon obedient Nature's breast 
 The Blessed Being sat at length, 
 
 And mused a moment as He blest 
 His would-be world with life and strength. 
 
 Then, rising from His musings grave. 
 The Mighty Maker lookt about ; 
 
 And in a trice — how grand ! how nice ! — 
 A thousand lightnings issued out. 
 
 A thousand, thousand Hghtnings bright 
 With thunders horrible to hear 
 
 Flow'd flashing ; and that dazzHng sight 
 Made gods and angels shake with fear. 
 
 Then in the twinkling of an eye 
 The heaps of atoms blazed with fire ; 
 
 For myriad acres what did He 
 But one long lucid ocean dire ? 
 
 Enormous puffs of gaseous flame 
 
 Arose and flew to ev'ry side ; 
 Tremendous peals of thunder came 
 
 With echo ringing far and wide. 
 
 With half -shut eyes and throbbing hearts. 
 The gods and angels shake with fear ; 
 
 " O save us all," they loudly call, 
 
 " For such a sound we ne'er did hear. 
 
 ** O save us all, Eternal Lord ; 
 
 Thine endless prowess who can bear ? 
 Those tongues of fire so dread, so dire 
 
 May blast the Spirit-region fair. 
 
HOW THE SUNS WERE MADE. 57 
 
 " Lo, there with flashes long and bright 
 
 Enormous streams of lightning fly ; 
 Lo, there with mighty waves of light 
 
 The fiery ocean surges high. 
 
 " O stay the thunders, stay the flames. 
 Our ears are stunn*d, our eyes are dazed ; 
 
 Those billows all our hearts appal, 
 O stay the billows Thou hast raised. 
 
 " O blessed Spirit ! Lord of All ! 
 
 Without beginning, mean or end ! 
 Almighty Maker, at Whose call 
 
 The jarring atoms sweetly blend ! " 
 
 Whereat the Maker fill'd their hearts 
 
 With but a portion of His might ; 
 And once anew they turn to view 
 
 The glory of that heavenly sight. 
 
 They see in wonder blent with fear, 
 
 How by a new mysterious force 
 Each surge of light becomes a sphere 
 
 And round the ocean runs its course. 
 
 They see again how from a Sun, 
 
 Amid the burst of light and heat, 
 Eight planets dart and, home-drawn, run 
 
 Their circHng course in orbits meet. 
 
 They see how with his lackeys four 
 
 The Belted Planet flies thro' Space, 
 How Saturn bright with rings of light 
 
 And eight attendants runs his race. 
 
58 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 They cast their glances on the Earth 
 
 And on her little satellite ; 
 They see that ball so dim, so small 
 
 Around its mother steer its flight. 
 
 They view the stellar systems all ; 
 
 They see how all the planets smile 
 With streams of light serene and bright, 
 
 They see, and praise Him all the while : 
 
 " O blessed Spirit ! Lord of All ! 
 
 Without beginning, mean or end ! 
 Almighty Maker, at Whose call 
 
 We rose, and on Whom we depend ! 
 
 " Lo, on the deep-blue sea of Space 
 The fresh-lit stellar region swings ; 
 
 Beam after beam in golden stream 
 From out its glowing orblets springs. 
 
 " From naked nothing atoms rose, 
 And worlds from atoms, at Thy voice ; 
 
 And at Thy nod, Eternal God, 
 
 We smile, we praise Thee, and rejoice." 
 
 March, 1900. 
 
 [Note :— The cosmogonic conception here is half-eastern haliij 
 western.] 
 
THE BROKEN SOUL. 
 
 {From Mrs. Roy). 
 
 M 
 
 Y cherish' d lyre is broken, 
 
 My wreath is snapt in twain. 
 The flower I thought so fresh is sete. 
 And ev'ry good I look for here 
 I look for but in vain. 
 
 Is it not rather early 
 
 My lamp of hope is out. 
 My dream of bUss is shatter'd quite, 
 And I am left to pass my night 
 
 In utter gloom and doubt ? 
 
 All weary, worn and wasted, 
 
 My heart is never whole ! ' 
 
 How long, alas, must I confine' 
 Within this broken heart of mine 
 
 Th^ petty broken soul ? 
 
 To me so broke and batter'd 
 
 The same are Ufe and death — 
 The same same thing ! how long must I | 
 For bliss and veering fortune sigh, 
 And draw the long long breath ? 
 
 If one could know before this 
 
 How hollow was the world ; 
 If one could know the ways of hfe, 
 The gloom, the misery, and the strife 
 
 To which all men are hurl'd : 
 
6o ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Who would not leave, who would not, 
 
 This dreary world alone ? 
 And turn a deaf ear to the call 
 Of selfish pleasures, one and all. 
 That leave us but to moan ? 
 
 Who would have ever cherish'd 
 
 Such flimsy earthly rest ? 
 Oh, that the desert's looming face 
 Could have allured me to embrace. 
 Vain world, thy cheating breast ! 
 
 My star is set for ever, 
 ^■: My Hght is sunk in gloom ; 
 Mine eyes but open to behold 
 Dim darkness, gather'd fold on fold. 
 That gapes like dug-up tomb. 
 
 Is this the fruit, the issue, 
 p- Of that upsoaring heart ? 
 Ah, wherefore did I nurse that hope, 
 Which Uke a wind-blown cobweb-rope 
 Was split and flung apart ? 
 
 Now while my heart is burning, 
 
 I'll take my broken lyre 
 And sing : " To suffer pain and woe 
 Man was created — sent below ; 
 
 O jump upon the pyre ! " 
 
 Yet — may not one be happy ? 
 
 Is human life all woe ? 
 And is it but to bum and bum. 
 And on the same hot pyre to turn, 
 That man was sent below ? 
 
THE BROKEN SOUL. 6l 
 
 Sing, broken lyre, sing loudly : 
 
 " Nay,— nay,— nay, 
 There is for man a prospect high, 
 An object higher ; 'twas not to sigh 
 
 That man was made from clay. 
 
 " Yon is the scene of action. 
 
 Yon is the battle-field : 
 Go forth, go forth, a hero true. 
 Well-girt with virtue's armour new 
 
 And faith's time-honour'd shield. 
 
 " Go give up, noble soldier. 
 
 Thine own for others' ease ; 
 Die for thy brother ; set thy mind 
 On aiding need, and thou shalt find 
 
 A newer truer peace. 
 
 " O sweet to die for others ! 
 
 Why groan and grumble so ? 
 Behold, the thicker is thy sigh- 
 The sorrowfuller is thy cry. 
 
 The greater is thy woe. 
 
 " The dream of bliss is shatter'd — 
 
 O let it shatter'd be ; 
 The lantern's gone — O let it go ; 
 Quit, quit the marsh ; why wander so 
 
 For that which flies from thee ? 
 
 " Pain ! pain ! what pain is on thee ? 
 Thy tears are shed in vain ; 
 If there be any in thy heart, 
 Beneath which thou dost inly smart, 
 Why raise so loud a strain ? 
 
62 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Then hide thy grief within thee ; 
 
 And let it shed from thence 
 A faint faint light, Hke Hesper white, 
 Hid in the new moon's central night, 
 
 Shining thro' darkness dense. 
 
 " Pain ! pain ! what pain is on thee ? 
 
 Think thou not of thy pain ; 
 But dry the salt of dewy eyes, 
 And let thy words so thick with sighs 
 
 Be plain and smooth again. 
 
 " Sweet thought, that ev'ry man is 
 
 For ev'ry other man ; 
 Get up, thou valiant hero true, 
 And with God-given courage new 
 
 Live for thy brotherman." 
 
 ^T September, 1900. 
 
 [Note: — This is a glorious struggle out of pessimism into optimism. J 
 
THE DAYS FLY. 
 
 (From Mrs. Roy). 
 
 ONE by one, one by one, 
 Days come and fly ; 
 The billows come, the billows roll. 
 They roll and die ; 
 A thousand cravings bubble up 
 
 Within the hesirt of men, 
 And all upon a sudden burst 
 Within the heart again ; 
 And the days fly. 
 
 One by one, one by one. 
 
 The founts run dry. 
 And all our nearest dearest friends 
 
 Are call'd to die ; 
 With slackening sinking sorrowing heart. 
 
 All batter' d in the strife. 
 Again we on our shoulders take 
 
 The weary load of Ufe ; 
 And the days fly. 
 
 Bit by bit, bit by bit. 
 
 The heart-heaved sigh 
 And the salt crystal on the cheek 
 
 Subside and die ; 
 Remembrance only stays awake, 
 
 And tells the sad old tale. 
 Re-gathering all the shatter'd past, 
 
 Until her memories fail ; 
 And the days fly. 
 September, igoo. 
 
 [Note : — Does it not remind you of Moore's " Light of Other 
 Days"?] 
 
A SONG OF IND. 
 {From Roby Tagore). 
 
 O CHARMER of the whole world's" mind, 
 O land of brightest sunshine, Ind, 
 My parents' parent thou ! 
 Thy feet are wash'd by azure seas, 
 Thy green hem trembles in the breeze, 
 Thy sky-kist front the Snow-mount is. 
 
 White frost doth crown thy brow. 
 The earUest dawn was on thy dome, 
 Psalms earhest from thy woods did come. 
 Spread earhest in thy silvan home 
 
 Knowledge and Truth enow. 
 O blest, thou ever-haUow'd land, 
 That feedest many a foreign strand, 
 Flowest with Gunga, Jumna bland. 
 
 Pure nectar-bosom'd thou ! 
 
 October, 1900. 
 
 [Note : — This pretty anthem gives us an insight into the Indian 
 national mind.] 
 
PIYADASI. 
 
 (From Asoka). 
 
 THUS the royal Piyadasi, 
 Of the holy gods beloved, 
 Of the gods and of the learned. 
 And of all the Bhikhus holy, — 
 To his many subject nations, 
 To the peoples whom he loveth, 
 Speaketh in tliis edict boldly : 
 
 "Hear, O hear, ye subject nations; 
 Hear, ye peoples whom I care for. 
 Care for with a sire's affection 
 And a teacher's watchful tending : 
 Hear what I have carved on pillar, 
 Carved for guidance of the govern'd 
 Under monks of royal sending. 
 
 " Public highways in mine empire 
 By the mango-trees are shaded ; 
 Wells and inns, refreshing, cheering, 
 Calm the drouthy and the weary ; — 
 But no inn or well or highway 
 Hath been made by me before this 
 For refreshing bosoms dreary ! 
 
 " Therefore shall the monks of mission, 
 Famed for rectitude and piety. 
 Famed for all the varied virtues 
 That 'neath heaven should adorn all, — 
 Unto ev'ry sect of people, 
 Bahman, Saman, or Niggantha, 
 Show the path of peace eternal. 
 
 F 
 
66 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 '' Would ye know that path of piety, 
 Know that path of glory genuine ? 
 Seek O seek Religion truly, 
 Which is neither rite nor blindness, 
 Which is not a heap of dogmas. 
 Nor a mass of sacrifices. 
 But an inward love and kindness. 
 
 " Are there such as spread religion 
 By the iron rod of harshness, 
 By employ of means tyrannic ? 
 Such is not King Piyadasi, — 
 Who doth look for inspiration, 
 , And the wakening of the bosom, 
 Not a show of piety glossy." 
 
 June, 1901. 
 
 [Note : — Asoka was the first great Emperor of Northern India. 
 He sent Buddhist missionaries to all parts of his empire and 
 even to Ceylon. Most of his edicts were inscribed on pillars or 
 in caves in different parts of the country These inscriptions 
 led Cunningham, Grierson and Biihler to investigate the origin 
 of the several scripts of India. The original of this poem is in 
 prose.] 
 
LOVE'S WEAL AND WOE. 
 
 {From Chandidas). 
 
 DEEMIN' Luve a pool o' bliss, 
 Ance I gaed to bathe tharein ; 
 But, ere I cam out o' this, 
 Thare did fa' an evil win*. 
 
 Wha is he that will't to mak 
 Luve a drumlie gumUe pool ? 
 Hech, how mony a shark an' snak 
 Glowr to seek and cleek the fool ! 
 
 Shame o' mammie, shame o' dad, 
 Shame o* people an' o' clan, 
 Come atween me an' my lad. 
 Whisper ' Lea'e thy dautit man.' 
 
 O the heavy heavy smart, 
 For I wadna cease to feel 
 Something knockin' at my heart 
 For the lad I lo'e sae weel ! 
 
 Bobbie says : O lassie hear. 
 Weal an' Wae be brether twain : 
 Whither Weal will gang, O thare 
 Wae maun follow wi' his train ! 
 
 November, 1901. 
 
 £NoTE : — Chandidas is to Bengal what Robbie Burns is to 
 Scotland ] 
 
A TWILIGHT SERENADE. 
 
 (From Roby Tagore). 
 
 'HOU — ^my cloud of twilight sweet, 
 With the sunset- winged feet ; 
 Thou — the heart's ambition high, 
 Pilgrim of my lonely sky. 
 I, combining in a whole 
 All the sweetness of my soul. 
 Thus have made thee — mine thou art, 
 Mine, sweet pilgrim of my heart. 
 
 With my bosom's ruddy flow 
 Mingling bUss and mingling woe, 
 I have dyed thy feet in dye, 
 Shadow of mine evening sky. 
 Mead with poison, brightest hue, 
 Mixt have I thy Ups to dew, 
 Lips of purple— mine thou art, 
 Mine, sweet shadow of my heart. 
 
 On thine eye the letters fine 
 Of my fondest dream divine 
 I have writ, O Ranger high, 
 Vision of my charmed eye. 
 With mine own sweet melody ] 
 I have woven, woven thee 
 Limb by limb — O mine thou art, 
 Mine, sweet vision of my heart. 
 
 July, 1902. 
 
 [Note :— This reminds one of Shellev's " desire of the raoth for 
 the star."] 
 
THE IMPORTUNATE 
 
 {From a Bengali song.) 
 
 G 
 
 O not back, ah do not go ; 
 Deck a little longer, oh — 
 Deck my heart's throne ! 
 Like the restless Zephjnr, why 
 To and fro dost ever fly ? 
 Sippest dew from flower to flower, 
 Lippest dirt frow bower to bower, 
 
 Athirst, alone ? 
 Thee I. long to capture aye. 
 Thou dost fly and fly away, 
 As of vision thou wert made, 
 Trembhng like a thing afraid, 
 
 O sought and flown ! 
 Come but once, my darUng free, 
 Let me fix mine eye on thee. 
 Let me see thee as thou art. 
 Hold thee fast unto my heart, 
 
 My sweet, mine own ! 
 I will hide thee in my soul. 
 Beautiful and bright and whole — 
 I will keep thee, keep thee mine, 
 Bind thee in a flowery twine, 
 
 O sweeter-grown ! 
 [ Night and day and day and night, 
 With a sweeter softer white. 
 In the sweet soft couch of love 
 Thou shalt lie, mine own, my dove, 
 
 To vision prone ! 
 July, 1902. 
 [Note :— Is it Shelley ? or is it Keats ?J 
 
A HYMN TO DAWN. 
 
 COME down, O golden Dawn, with smear of red on 
 ruddy frame, 
 On ruddy lip and ruddy cheek the touch of 
 'I f laughter-flame ; 
 With champak-fingers gay, come, driving serried clouds 
 
 away; 
 Thy cloth-hem waving with the sigh sent by the 
 
 Southern Dame, 
 On breast of Earth, with face of mirth, lay down thy 
 ruddy frame.|^ f^^. f| 
 
 ^y August, 1902. 
 
 [Note :— This is a modern tribute in modern form to the old Aryan 
 Goddess Ushas, Eos or Aurora,] 
 
LIFE'S VOYAGE. 
 
 (From Roby Tagore). 
 
 SET, set the barge afloat amid the endless sea ; 
 Gone is all woe, gone weal, gone hope no more 
 to be. 
 Before us — endless night. 
 We twain are pilgrims dight,! 
 Before us lies the bight — no quarter, corner free. 
 All still the main doth lie. 
 Wide, wide the seaside dry. 
 All with the azure sky mingles the azure sea 
 No stir is there, no sound, 
 All with a spell seems bound. 
 With forward arms unwound. Night creeps in o'er the 
 lea. 
 Endless the watery blue. 
 We'll go, a silent crew. 
 Upon the endless blue we'll cast one look of glee. 
 Whither the billows flow. 
 Whither the breezes blow, 
 O there we both will go thro* endless, endless sea. 
 
 September, 1902. 
 
 [Note ; — Roby Tagore has infused life into the commonest of 
 common metaphors in Indian poetry : Cf . Sankara's expression 
 " the sea-like world."] 
 
THE SENSE OF LONELINESS. 
 
 (From Rohy Tagore) 
 
 FLOWER on flower is leaning over, and how softly 
 blows the gale ! 
 With a splash of billowy splendour flows the 
 rivulet thro' the dale. 
 From a hundred bower'd arches comes the cuckoo's 
 
 fourfold glee ; 
 Wherefore, then, for what I know not, cries my heart 
 " Ah me, ah me " ? 
 
 September, 1902. 
 
 [Note : — Compare Wordsworth : 
 
 •' In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts 
 Bring sad thoughts to the mind."] 
 
LINES WRITTEN IN DEJECTION. 
 
 \From a Bengali song). 
 
 WHERE the far biUow laves 
 The shore of summer sea, 
 Where the moony moony caves 
 
 In the sea-foam dip the knee, 
 I will sit and sit alone, 
 See the billows one by one 
 
 Calling, calling, calUng me. 
 To the sky and to the wind 
 I will speak my pain of mind, 
 
 Make my deeper passion flee. 
 Full of cunning and deceit 
 
 The heart of man I find ; 
 Ha, no longer will I meet 
 
 The face of human kind ; 
 In the social cemetery, 
 Nay, no longer will I tarry. 
 
 Bear no more this pain of mind. 
 
 September, 1902. 
 [Note :— Does it not remind you of Shelley ?] 
 
THE ROSEBUD. 
 
 (From Roby Tagore). 
 
 FALLS the Rosebud leaning slow, 
 Go not there, O Bee — 
 With a dip the mead to sip, 
 Get no thorn on thee. 
 
 Here a Champak, there a BeU, 
 
 Yon a Sheuli gay — 
 Speak to them thy pain of mind 
 
 Freely as one may. 
 
 Says the Bee " O there's the Bell, 
 
 There's the Lily too— 
 Shall I speak to them what yet 
 
 None were spoken to ? 
 
 " What is hidden in my core 
 
 To the Rose I'll speak — 
 If in that a smart I get, 
 
 Then the smart I seek ! " 
 
 September, 1902. 
 [Note :— A pretty thought ! but is it not almost French ?] 
 
TO THE MUSE. 
 
 (From Roby Tagore). 
 
 I. 
 
 PLENDOUR- WINGED Poesy, 
 Come O come, I call for thee ! 
 Round thy form the clouds are playing, 
 From the Zephyr comes a kiss, 
 All the endless sky 
 With two arms spread high 
 Clasps thee to his bosom's bliss. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the skirts of yon sweet blue, 
 'Mid the clouds that shudder free, 
 I have built thee there a house, 
 
 dream-winged Poesy. 
 When I'm come unto this dell, 
 
 1 will call thee with a spell. 
 Drooping down from cloud to cloud. 
 Stooping low from breeze to breeze, 
 With a smiUng face wilt thou 
 Come and set thee by my knees. 
 
 In the wind thy weeds will fly, 
 And thy tresses streaming He. 
 
 III. 
 
 Opening shght thine eyeUds sweet, 
 'Out will bloom a simper fine. 
 All the mild rays of thy heart 
 Flashing thro' those lips of thine 
 
76 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 Twining firm my warming neck, 
 Quick my young lap thou wilt deck. 
 With thy sweet dishevell'd hair, 
 Sitting, sitting I will play — 
 As the mellow Zephyr frisks 
 With the locks of blooming Day. 
 
 IV. 
 Kissing, kissing I will rouse 
 On thy lips the budding smile ; 
 Drawing to this heart thy face, 
 I will sing thee dull awhile. 
 Hand to hand in sweet embrace 
 All the clouds will come apace, 
 They will, child-like, circle us, 
 Wondering as we mingle thus. 
 Therefore do I call on thee, 
 Come, my Poesy, to my side ; 
 In calm sloth commingled both, 
 We shall stay here, gentle Bride. 
 
 V. 
 Slowly drooping from the cloud, 
 On my left O set thee down — 
 As with champak-fingers gay 
 Driving half the gloom away, 
 Mellow Dawn droops, twilight-brown. 
 
 VI. 
 
 From the breeze, O merry Muse, 
 Come, and near me take thy seat — 
 As from out some wood unknown, 
 Floating, floating Zephyr-blown, 
 Comes an odour heavenly-sweet. 
 
TO THE MUSE 77 
 
 VII. 
 
 From the heart's sweet harem, then, 
 Slowly, slowly come, my Bride — 
 As the leaves of Love's new vine 
 Gently round the bosom twine, 
 Spread about the dear one's feet, 
 Fainting, fainting by their side. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Or, with slacken' d slender frame, 
 Come, and set thee down by me — 
 As, upon the snow-white bed 
 Kissing sunken eyes all dead, 
 Mellow Death comes, dark-hair'd dame ; 
 As the Dawn-dew trickles free ; 
 As, on murky Western sea, 
 Drops the flaming Star from high ; 
 As, with smiling, smiling face, 
 On her brow one vermeil-trace. 
 Drooping Day comes, sunken dame, 
 On her husband's pyre to die 
 In the flaming Western sky. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Look ! a faint-soul' d dying Breeze, 
 Absent long from bloom and bees, 
 To his home, the arbour, flies, 
 Tho' the faint feet do not rise ; 
 Then, as by the arbour-side 
 Lights he on the Blossom-bride, 
 Whispering out the last, last word, 
 Sudden on her breast he dies. 
 
78 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Even so, Bride Poesy, 
 Even so come hither, dear — 
 On my pale face Pity sits. 
 In mine eye one trickling tear. 
 Just a few, few sighs will fall. 
 Just a few, few words of pain — 
 Twining with two arms my heart. 
 In my heart's heart thou wilt reign. 
 
 September, 1902. 
 
 [Note :— Roby Tagore deserves to be called the Shelley of Bengal, 
 does he not ?] 
 
PROLOGUE TO THE CANTERBURY 
 TALES, LL. 1-18. 
 
 {From Chaucer). 
 
 WHEN April with his drops of rain so sweet 
 Has pierced unto the root dry March's heat. 
 And bathed each vein in such a moistening 
 shower 
 Whose quickening vigour calls to birth the flower ; 
 When Zephyr also with his breath serene 
 Has waked to life in ev'ry wood and green 
 The tender tree-tops, and the youthful sun 
 Has in the Sign of Ram his half-course run, 
 And little birds are making music nice, 
 That slumber all the night with open eyes. 
 So spurring Nature does their hearts engage ; 
 Then people long to go on pilgrimage — 
 And palmers long to visit foreign strands — 
 To distant saints, well-known in various lands ; 
 And mostly, from the end of ev'ry shire 
 Of England, they to Canterbury retire, 
 The holy blessed martyr to behold. 
 Who help'd them when they were in illness' hold. 
 
 April, 1906. 
 
 [Note : — L.I. Sweet— I prefer to take the Chaucerian word " sote" 
 (properly an adverb) as an adjective ; see Skeat's " Complete 
 Works of Geoffrey Chaucer." Lowell in " My Story Windows " 
 refers to the beauty of this passage in Chaucer. In the last 
 two lines, observe the French rime, with which students of 
 Swinburne are familiar . 
 
THE SWAN. 
 (From Cynewulf). 
 
 MUTE my garment, as the ground I trample. 
 Or in the shores tarry, or the shallows trouble. 
 Whilom I'm heaved up, over houses of men. 
 By my glory and the gales so high ; 
 And me then widely welkin's vigour 
 Over folk beareth. These my feathers 
 Clamour loudly, and clang sweetly, 
 Rustle clearly, when I'm not resting on 
 Flood and fallow, far-roaming sprite. 
 
 April, 1906. 
 
 [Note : — For the metre consult Sievers' " Zur Rhythmik des 
 Germanischen Alliterationverses " or Sweet's "Anglo-Saxon 
 Reader."] 
 
THE WORSHIP OF THE FIRE-GOD. 
 
 {From Vasishtha). 
 
 (To the Fire-God). 
 
 ENJOY our fuel, God of Fire, this morning ; 
 Shine, mighty sacrificial smoke up-sending ; 
 Touch at the heavenly summit with thy columns ; 
 Combine together with the rays of Surya. 
 
 {To the Sacrificers). 
 He is the praised of mortal men, his greatness 
 Praise we, for he is pious, in their rituals 
 Who, blest with goodly strength, pure, thought-inspiring. 
 Enjoy as Gods both manners of oblation. 
 
 {To the Worshippers). 
 Fit for your reverence, divine, right powerful, 
 Ambassador 'twixt heaven and earth, truth-telling, 
 The Fire, in manly guise by Manu kindled 
 For sacrifice, may we applaud for ever. 
 
 {To the Sacrificers). 
 The worshippers do bear with knees a-bending 
 And bring up bowingly the grass to Agni ; 
 Offering the butter-back drop-dappled object, 
 O sacrificers, with oblation deck him. 
 
 With proper ritual, to the doors the pious 
 Have gone, desiring cars in Gods' assembly ; 
 The elders twain, their young like mothers licking. 
 They, like to maids in fairs, have decorated. 
 
 (To Dawn and Night). 
 Besides, the maids divine are mighty-seeming, 
 Both Dawn and Night, like good milk-giving heifers ; 
 Seated on grass, by many summoned, bounteous, 
 May they, full pious, for our welfare come up. 
 
 G 
 
82 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 (To the Twin Healing Gods). 
 
 sages twain, at offerings of mortals singers, 
 
 1 wish to you, O wisdom-born, to offer ; 
 Aloft our sacrifice bear at our summons ; 
 
 These 'mid the Gods win ye, these long'd-for objects. 
 
 {To several Gods and Goddesses). 
 May Bharati with Bharatis united. 
 May Ila with the Gods, with mortals Agni, 
 Sarasvati with Sarasvatas hither. 
 Three Goddesses, upon this grass be seated. 
 
 (To the All-shaping God). 
 To us, now, that swift-working seed prolific, 
 God Tvashtri, do thou give, and widely sprinkle ; 
 Whereof a hero, good at rites, right powerful, 
 Joining the pressing-stones, may spring, God-loving. 
 
 (To the Tree-God). 
 Lord of the Forest, send it forth to Gods-ward ; 
 Agni this offering as dresser bear up ; 
 May he, the priest most true, the oblation offer, 
 As he of Gods the generations knoweth. 
 
 (To the Fire-God). 
 Come, O thou God of Fire, enkindled, hither, 
 With Indra join'd and with the Gods so speedy ; 
 Upon our grass sit Aditi, blest mother ; 
 In cry of " Hail ! " the Gods immortal revel. 
 
 December, 1906. 
 
 [Note:— Agni was an Indo-Iranian God, and figures as much in 
 the Veda as in the Avesta. See Macdonnel's " Vedic Myth- 
 ology " and Muir's " Sanskrit Texts," vol. 5.] 
 
ON SAKUNTALA. 
 
 {From Goethe). 
 
 WILT thou the bloom of the springtide, the fruit 
 of the year that doth wither ? 
 Wilt thou what charms and pleases ? wilt thou 
 what fills and keeps fed ? 
 Wilt thou the earth and the heaven in one name mingle^ 
 
 together ? 
 I name, Sakuntala, thee, and so is ev'rything said. 
 
 February, 1908. 
 
 [Note : — This is taken from the opening page of my translation of 
 Kalidasa's " Sakuntala and her Keepsake," the prelude of which 
 suggested to Goethe the plan of the prologue in "Faust." 
 " Sakuntala" has been translated again and again into most of 
 the European languages, and by universal consent Kalidasa is 
 called the Shakespeare of India. He lived in the 6th century, 
 A.D., if not earlier. Of the two extant English versions, which 
 are based on two different recensions, that of Sir Wm. Jones 
 is far too prosaic, and that of Sir M. Monier- Williams is far 
 too diffuse. 
 
THE ILIAD, BK. I, LL. 1-7. 
 
 (From Homer). 
 
 SING of the anger, O Goddess, of Peleus' offspring 
 Achilles, 
 Terrible anger, that wrought to Achaeans sorrows 
 unnumber'd ; 
 Many a stubborn soul to the nether domain it escorted. 
 Souls of the doughty, themselves doled out as a ravin 
 
 to war-hounds. 
 Also to all birds winged ; and wrought was Jupiter's 
 
 counsel. 
 Since, from the very beginning, a discord sever'd asunder 
 Atreus' offspring, the chief of the people, and godly 
 Achilles. 
 
 March, 1908. i • , 
 
 [Note : — I have kept the Greek rhythm in 1. 3 and used diphthongs 
 and full vowel sounds throughout the translation. With 
 Matthew Arnold I believe it a mistake to turn Homer's Pegasus 
 into Pope's rocking-horse, although I am fully conscious of 
 " the long-resounding march and majesty divine " which may 
 be introduced to vary the heroic couplet.'' 
 
THE iENEID, BK. I, LL. 1-7. 
 
 (From Vergil). 
 
 ARMS and the hero I sing, who from out Troy's 
 borders, the foremost, 
 Flying, to Italy came, fate-guided, and unto 
 Lavinian 
 Sea-shores ; greatly at land was he toss'd, tossed over in 
 
 ocean, 
 Forced by the gods, for the wrath well-known of im- 
 placable Juno ; 
 Many a trouble at war bore he, while founding his city, 
 Bringing to Latium his gods, whence follow'd the progeny 
 
 Latin, 
 Fathers of Alba as well, and of Rome those battlements 
 lofty. 
 
 March, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— With the authority of Dryden I reject as spurious the font 
 opening lines of this epic which were imitated by Milton in 
 " Paradise Regained."] 
 
THE ROPE, PROL., LL. 1-31. 
 
 {From Plautus). 
 
 Arcturus. 
 
 WHO all the nations, aU the seas and lands doth stir. 
 His countryman in country of the gods I am. 
 I'm just as you behold me, shining star all 
 white, 
 An orb that ever rises in its season due 
 In earth and heaven. Mine the name " Arcturus " is, 
 At night in heaven bright I am and 'midst the gods. 
 In midst of mortals wandering at hours of day. 
 And other bodies out of sky on earth appear. 
 Who rules the heavenly folk and human, Jupiter, 
 He sendeth us to nations one to one apart, 
 That we all human doings, manners, virtues, faith, 
 May know, as he with favour helpeth ev'ryone. 
 Who lying claims with lying bits of evidence 
 Pursue, and who at court all money swear away. 
 Their names in full I write out and I bear to Jove. 
 Each day he knoweth who is after evil here. 
 Who here to win a law-claim try by perjury, 
 Bad folk, and who get false goods from the juryman, 
 Once more their thing adjudicated he doth judge : 
 And this the sinful folk into their heads do get, 
 That Jove they well can please with gift and sacrifice ; 
 And pains and costs they lose : and so it happens, for 
 He taketh no atonement for a perjury. 
 Much easier he that's loyal and doth pray the gods, 
 Than he who is all sinful, may forgiveness find. 
 For this I give my warning to you, who are good, 
 
THE ROPE. " 87 
 
 And who do live your lives with faith and loyalty. 
 Hold on, that ye may afterwards be glad 'twas done. 
 Now, what I hither came for, I will tell the plot. 
 
 March, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— For the Saturnian metres of Plautus consult Wagner's 
 "Aulularia." The influence of Plautus on the Elizabethan 
 drama is too well known to be specially mentioned.] 
 
TO PYRRHA. 
 
 {From Horace). 
 
 WHAT slender youth to thee, in midst of many a 
 rose, 
 Bedew' d with flowing scents all over, plies his 
 suit 
 By cave delightful, Pyrrha ? 
 
 For whom bind'st thou thine auburn hair, 
 Plain in thy taste so neat ? Alas, how oft on faith 
 And on the alter'd gods he'll cry, and at the rough 
 Wind-glooming ocean-levels 
 
 His wonder unaccustom'd show. 
 Who now enjoyeth thee beUeving thee all gold, 
 Who always thee at ease, thee always fit for love, 
 Doth hope, — unskill'd of breezes 
 Deceitful ! Hapless, unto whom. 
 Untried, thou shinest fair ! I, as the hallow' d wall 
 With letters of my vow doth show, those dripping weeds 
 Have hung down to the powerful 
 God of the sea, those weeds of mine. 
 
 May, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— I regard "Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aurea" as a 
 pregnane construction, knd so I translate "Who now enjoyeth 
 thee believing thee all gold."] 
 
THE PEARL, STT. 1-5. 
 
 PEARL, pleasant for the Prince's play, 
 All cleanly closed in gold so clear ; 
 From out the Orient, dare I say, 
 I never proved her precious peer, 
 So round, so right-shaped in each ray. 
 So small, so smooth her sides they were : 
 Whereso' I judged of jewels gay, 
 I set her singly, single there. 
 Alas ! in bower I lost her here. 
 Thro' grass to ground from me it got : 
 I dwindle, driv'n from love-sway dear, 
 My privy Pearl without a spot. 
 
 Since on that spot from me it sprung, 
 Oft have I wish'd and watch' d that weal, 
 That once was wont to quell my wrong. 
 Enhance my hap, my spirit heal. 
 It makes my heart but thrill full throng. 
 My breast in bale but boil and beal. 
 Yet ne'er meseem'd so sweet a song, 
 As season still to me let steal : 
 Forsooth I found full much to feel. 
 To think her colour clad in clot ! 
 O mould ! thou marr'st a merry meal. 
 My privy Pearl without a spot. 
 
 That spot with spices must needs spread, 
 Where jewel rich to rot is run : 
 And blossoms bleak and blue and red 
 There shine full sheer against the sun : 
 
go ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 And flower and fruit may fall not dead; 
 Where down it dropt on mould all dun. 
 For, grass must grow from grains now shed, 
 Else harvest home of wheat were none. 
 From good each good is aye begun : 
 . Such seemly seed might perish not, 
 Lest up no springing spices spun 
 From precious Pearl without a spot. 
 
 That spot, that I in speech explain, 
 I enter'd, in that orchard green. 
 In August, season with no rain. 
 When corn is cut with crooks so keen : 
 One hill, where roU'd the Pearl amain, 
 Was shaded with herbs full sheer and sheen- 
 With clove, and ginger, gromwell-grain 
 And peonies powder' d all between. 
 If to the sight it seem'd so clean, 
 A fairer fragrance thence did float,^ ' 
 Where dwells that worthy one, I ween, 
 My precious Pearl without a spot. 
 
 Before that spot my hands I bent, 
 For care full cold that to me caught ; 
 Dire dole with din thro' bosom went, 
 Tho' wit to set my spirit sought. 
 I plain'd my Pearl that there was pent. 
 With fearful doubts that firmly fought ; 
 Tho' kind Christ made me know content 
 My wretched will to woe was wrought. 
 I fell on ground mth flowers fraught, 
 Such odour to my brain then shot; 
 
THE PEARL, 91 
 
 I slid, on stroke by slumber brought. 
 On precious Pearl without a spot. 
 
 June, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Observe the use of both alliteration and rime and the 
 complexity of the rime system ; and yet the thought does not 
 seem to be fettered ! The Northeners of the transition age 
 were glorious ; compare Huchown. Pearl— Probably the 
 actual name of the girl was Marguerite. Thrill full throng — 
 "Throng" is an adverb; see Gollancz's "Pearl." Boil and 
 beal — " Beal " is a northern provincial word ; see Murray's 
 " New English Dictionary." A merry meal — This is a regular 
 Middle English phrase ; see Murray's " New English 
 Dictionary."] 
 
THE DIVINE COMEDY: HELL, 
 CANTO I, LL. 1-36 
 
 {From Dante). 
 
 M 
 
 ID WAY upon the journey of our life 
 
 I found me in a wood with gloom all gray, 
 For the right way was with disorder rife. 
 
 Ah me ! how hard a thing it is to say 
 
 How wild and rough and stern this wood did he, 
 
 Which but to think is to renew dismay. 
 
 So bitter 'tis, 'tis Uttle more to die : 
 But to unfold the good I there did find, 
 I'll tell of other things I there did spy. 
 
 I tell not well how there my steps inclined, 
 So full, about that hour, I was of sleep, 
 When the true way I stray'd to leave behind. 
 
 But when I was at foot of hillock steep, 
 
 There where that valley deep did terminate. 
 
 Which caused with fear my stricken heart to creep, 
 
 I lookt on high, and saw its shoulders great 
 Clad in the radiance of that wandering Sphere, 
 Which guideth others thro' each alley straight. 
 
 Then render'd calm a little was the fear. 
 
 Which long had lived my bosom's lake to throng. 
 
 The night that I did pass with pain so drear. 
 
 And as he, who with panting breath full strong 
 Hath scaped from out the ocean to the shore. 
 Turns to the dangerous wave, and watches long : 
 
THE DIVINE COMEDY. 93 
 
 Just so my mind, which still did fly before, 
 Turn'd backward to behold the strait defile, 
 Which living person left not evermore. 
 
 When I had soothed with rest my body's toil. 
 My way I took up thro' the strand all bare, 
 The firmer foot the lower all the while ; 
 
 And lo ! just where began the upland, there, 
 
 A Leopard, light and very nimble too, 
 
 Which was enwrapt with spotted skin and fairj 
 
 And from before my face it never flew, 
 Nay, so it hinder' d me upon my way, 
 That often to return I backward drew. 
 
 June, 1908. 
 
 [Note: — Notice the " triple rime," which was first attempted in 
 English by Chaucer. I do not preserve the feminine endings 
 of the original, as they are a mere accident of the Italian 
 language, just as masculine endings are an accident of English. 
 Look up the allegorical sense of the imagery in Longfellow's 
 unrimed translation with notes.] 
 
THE SLAUGHTER OF MEGHANAD: 
 BK. I, LL. 1-32. 
 
 (From Michael M. S. Dutt). 
 
 WHEN, fallen in the front of fray, the chief of heroes 
 high, 
 Heroic-arm' d, did go adown unto the town of 
 Death 
 Right early, — say, O Goddess fair with nectar-flowing 
 ^"^ speech. 
 
 What hero great was chosen out unto the captain's post, 
 And sent again to battle by the Lord of Demonkind, 
 The foe of Raghav ; by what scheme the source of 
 
 Demons* hope, 
 Great Indra's Victor, Meghanad, invincible on earth, 
 The Lord of Urmila destroy'd, and drove out Indra's 
 
 dread. 
 I bow unto thy lotus-feet, all dull of intellect 
 I am, I call yet once again on thee, O white of hand, 
 Speech-Goddess ! Just as, mother mine, thou didst alight 
 
 and sit 
 Upon Valmiki's tasteful tongue, as on a lotus-throne, 
 What time with sharply-shotten shaft, all in a wood 
 
 profound, 
 The crane together with his bride the fowler pierced full 
 
 deep, 
 So to thy bounden thrall do come, and be thou kind, O 
 
 good ! 
 Who knows thy majesty divine throughout this world 
 
 all round ? 
 The man who was the worst of men among all human 
 
 kind. 
 On theft intent, the same became, thro' favour of thy 
 
 gift. 
 
THE SLAUGHTER OF MEGHANAD. 95 
 
 Immortal, as immortal is the Lord of Uma fair ! 
 
 O thou boon-giver, by thy boon the robber Ratnakar 
 
 Was Ratnakar of poesy ! 'Tis at thy touch divine 
 
 The beauty of a sandal- tree the poison-tree doth bear ! 
 
 Ah, mother ! such a virtue great may there be in thy 
 thraU ? 
 
 But then, the one that worthless is among her progeny, 
 
 Dull-brain'd, the parent's tenderness is shown forth unto 
 him 
 
 The most of all. So thou uprise, uprise, O kindly One, 
 
 All world's beloved ! I'll, mother, sing, with high thoughts 
 flowing o'er, 
 
 A mighty song ; uprise, and shield thy thrall with shadow- 
 ing feet. 
 
 And thou, too, gentle Goddess, come, thou honey- 
 making bee, 
 
 O'Fancy ! from the poet's mind, as from a flower-fraught 
 wood, 
 
 Take mead, and build a honeycomb, from whence all 
 Gouda's folk, 
 
 Contented, shall imbibe their fill of nectar evermore. 
 
 June, 1908. ?j 
 
 [Note : — Ratnakar the robber became Valraiki the bard ; so runs the 
 Indian tradition. He is called the Homer of India, and is 
 known all over the country through Krittibas, Tulsidas and 
 other Mediaeval writers. The fourteen-syllabled blank verse 
 used here, has a pause usually at the eighth syllable and occa- 
 sionally at the seventh. The original metre is entirely syllabic 
 and has natural accents as in French. Michael Dutt's model 
 in this legendary epic was Homer. He did not live to finish his 
 projected national epic called *• The conquest of Ceylon," 
 which was to imitate Vergil and to vie with the projected 
 " Arturiad " of Milton. His favourite European authors were 
 Homer, Vergil, Ovid, Dante, Petrarch, Tasso, Milton, and 
 Camoens ; and to some extent Shakespeare. He gave Bengal 
 the blank verse, the Italian sonnet, the vers litres, and several 
 choice lyrical metres, as well as the literary drama.] 
 
JERUSALEM DELIVERED: CANTO I, 
 STT. 1-4. 
 
 (From Tasso). 
 
 I SING the pious arms, and, chief of band, 
 Him who the mighty tomb of Christ did free : 
 Much wrought he both by counsel and by hand, 
 Much in the gloroius conquest suffer 'd he : 
 And him in vain Hell cross' d : in vain did stand, 
 Arm'd, Asia's folk and Afric's mix^dly : 
 For Heaven did help him, and beneath the sign 
 Hallow'd led back his wandering friends, in fine. 
 
 O Muse, thou who with fading laurel tire 
 Dost not entwine in HeUcon thy brow, 
 But up in Heaven among the blessed quire 
 Hast golden crown of deathless stars enow, 
 Breathe thou into my bosom heavenly fire. 
 Tune thou this song of mine, and pardon thou. 
 If truth I weave with trinkets, deck in part 
 With other charms than those thy rolls impart. 
 
 Thou know'st, there runs the world, where most doth glide 
 
 With its own sweets Parnassus* luring rill, 
 
 And that the truth, to tender verse aUied, 
 
 Hath suaded those of sway impatient still ; , 
 
 So for the sickly child we sprinkle wide 
 
 The goblet's margin with a grateful swill ; 
 
 The bitter juice, mistaken he doth take, 
 
 And gets his life auDiew thro' his mistake. 
 
JERUSALEM DELIVERED. 97 
 
 Thou lofty-soul'd Alfonso, who hast wrung 
 From fortune's spite, and lead'st to haven sound, 
 Me wandering abroad, the rocks among. 
 And toss'd among the waves, and well-nigh drown'd ; 
 With gladsome brow receive this book of song, 
 Which bring I as in vow to theeward bound. 
 Perchance one day the prophet's daring quill 
 May write of thee what now it hints us still. 
 
 June, 1908. 
 
 [Note : — Although hardly approaching the sublimity of Milton's 
 " Paradise Lost," and still less the beauty of Milton's " Paradise 
 Regained," Tasso's " Jerusalem Delivered " is a true Christian 
 epic in a sense in which neither " Paradise Lost " nor " Paradise 
 Regained " is. These two poems as well as Dante's " Divine 
 Comedy " seem to me to belong to a higher species of composi- 
 tion to which the name of "epic" should not be applied. 
 The same remark holds good of the so-called Caedmonian 
 poems and of the Old Saxon " Heliand." Cf . Hesiod's " Days 
 and Works," as opposed to Homer's " Iliad."] 
 
THE LUSIAD: CANTO I, STT. 1-4 
 
 (From Camoens). 
 
 THE arms, and eke the heroes famed afar, 
 Who, from the Western Lusitanian plain, 
 Thro' seas ne'er braved by other sailors' spar. 
 Did pass beyond the farthest Taprobane, — 
 Who, full of force in peril and in war, 
 With promise more than that of human main, 
 Among a race remote did edify 
 A kingdom new, which rose so very high ; 
 
 And eke the memory, that glorious stands. 
 
 Of all those kings, who sought to spread and founQ 
 
 The Faith and Empire, and the sinful lands 
 
 Of Afric and Asia went to pillage bound ; 
 
 And those who by the deeds of doughty hands 
 
 Sought hard to be from law of death unbound ; 
 
 I'll sing and sound abroad thro' ev'ry part, 
 
 If I have aid of so much skill and art. 
 
 Cease the sage Grecian, and the Trojan cease. 
 To brag of mighty voyage which they made ; 
 Hold Alexander, Trajan hold his peace. 
 For fame of victories which long decay'd ; 
 For lo ! I sing the high-soul'd Portuguese, 
 Whom Neptune deep and stubborn Mars obey'd 
 Cease all, of whom the Muse hath sung of yore, 
 For, higher doth another valour soar. 
 
THE LUSIAD. 99 
 
 And ye, my Tagian Nymphs, did so create 
 Within my soul a new-born glowing skill ; 
 If oft my humble verse did celebrate 
 Full cheerfully my faith upon your rill, 
 Give me a strain now, lofty and elate, 
 A style grandiloquent and flowing still ; 
 For so shall Phoebus for your waves ordain 
 That they shall never envy Hippocrene. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Camoens' model was Tasso. Notice the *' octave rime.'* 
 This translation will be found to differ very widely from 
 Mickle's, which gives the reader no idea of the original.] 
 
PIERS THE PLOWMAN : PROL./LL. 1-22. 
 {From Langland). 
 
 IN a summer season, when soft was the sun, 
 I shaped me in shrouds, as I a shepherd were ; 
 In habit of a hermit unholy of works. 
 Went wide thro' this world, wonders to hear. 
 And on a May morning, on Malvern hills, ^ 
 A fancy befell me of a fairy, I thought ; 
 I was weary of wandering, and went to repose , 
 On a broad bank, by a brooklet's side ; 
 And as I lay and lean'd and lookt on the waters, 
 I slumber' d full sleepy, it sounded so merry. 
 
 Then began I to meet a marvellous vision. 
 
 That I was in a wild wood, I wot not ever where ; 
 
 As I lookt into the east and aloft to the sun, 
 
 I saw a tower on a hill's top, truly well-wrought ; 
 
 A deep dale beneath, a dungeon therein. 
 
 With deep ditches and dark and dreadful to see. 
 
 A fair field full of folk I found there between, 
 
 Of all manner of men, the mean and the rich. 
 
 Working and wandering at the world's demand. 
 
 Some put themselves to the plough, play'd full seldom. 
 
 In setting and in sowing sweated full hard. 
 
 And won what the wasteful with gluttony destroy. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [NoTK. — Langland was a poet of the people, and kept up the old 
 native alliterative metre, though he forgot its true music. 
 Shepherd — Langland's word "shepe" means "shepherd"; 
 see Skeafs edition of "The Vision of William concerning 
 Piers the Plowman."] 
 
I 
 
 BEOWULF: PREFACE, LL. i-ii. 
 
 LO ! we Gar-Danes, in days gone by. 
 Many folk-kings' fame have hearken'd : 
 
 ■" How those potentates put forth prowess. 
 
 ' Oft Scyld Scef-son, scathful thief-gangs. 
 Multitudes many, of mead-seats deprived. 
 Earls he urged on, since earhest he was 
 Found out fee-less : so for favour he lookt, 
 Wax'd under welkin, worthily throve. 
 So to him each one of side-sitters 
 On the whale-alley must be heedful, 
 Tender tribute : he was a true monarch. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [NoTK.— Gar-Danes— Lit. Spear-Danes ; see Wyatt's " Beowulf." 
 Fee-less — Lit. cattle-less ; moneyless. This poem is the only 
 true national epic of England ; the interest of the story and 
 the scenery are essentially English, although the historical 
 setting is Scandinavian. A patchwork of rimeless lyrics 
 written of late by Mr. Alfred Noyes under the title of " Drake : 
 An English Epic " calls forth a remark : it could have been an 
 English epic, if it were written in the stately "octave rime" 
 of Tasso or Camoens ; but it could not be the English epic, 
 as the projected " Arturiad " of Milton in his own blank verse 
 would have been, if it foreshadowed the later glory of England.] 
 
THE CAPTURE OF CORDOVA AND 
 SEVILIA: LAISSE I. 
 
 NOW hear from me, both great and lesser folk, 
 A goodly song of deeds by Frenchmen shown. 
 Tis of Aymeri, the brave and plucky-soul' d. 
 And of Butor, a paynim false at core, 
 Who took up battle with Lord Guibert the bold 
 In Salerie were the warriors good at blows, 
 At early mom, what time the dawn-beams broke ; 
 And all the sentry descended from the holds ; 
 The sun did shine, which cast a mighty glow. 
 By which were caught the palaces and holds. 
 The mass is chanted by our archbishop bold, 
 Torpin of Rheims, no better I heard before ; 
 Agaie he marries, the Holy Lord before ; 
 Her took that day Lord Guibelin the bold ; 
 His ring of gold she on best finger wore ; 
 Upon it writ, our Saviour's name did show : 
 Who had it on ne'er fear'd, by fortune sore, 
 That he be kill'd or any day o'erthrown. 
 So much the ring of worth and value own'd. 
 Upon a pallet, which all its colour show'd, 
 Torpin did bless and consecrate them both. 
 And then commends them the glorious God before. 
 Who grant them strength and chivalry and force. 
 Right soon was chanted the mass we honour most ; 
 The French great joyance and mighty ardour show ; 
 Of the great joyance, which 'mongst them they behold. 
 Out blare the sentry, and sing the jongleurs hoar, 
 And lays of Britain by viol-players are told. 
 And out from England some harpers there did go, 
 
THE CAPTURE OF CORDOVA, 103 
 
 By Auvergne's men a song of love is told. 
 Great is the wedding in garden on the hold. 
 Agaie is taken, by duke and count she's borne, 
 And made to seat her anear the greater board. 
 Before her face there sing the jongleurs hoar. 
 God ! with what grief this day of marriage wore ! 
 For aught I know, no greater did I behold. 
 Upon these words, appears a rascal, lo, 
 A Saracen, on whom God shame bestow, 
 Whom thither sent Judas from the Amir old. 
 To teU his lying story. 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — For the metre consult Densusianu's edition of " La Prise 
 de Cordres et de Sebille." Observe that the alexandrine was 
 not yet in vogue.] 
 
THE RACE OF RAGHU: CANTO I, 
 
 vs. I-IO. 
 {From Kalidasa). 
 
 IKE Speech and Sense allied all near, so Speech and 
 Sense may on me fall, 
 The world's great Parents I revere, Parvati and 
 the Lord of All. 
 
 Where is the Sun-born race, and where, with narrow 
 
 ken endued, my brain ! 
 Mad, long I on a raft to fare across the all too hard- 
 
 cross'd main ! 
 
 A fool, for fame of poet sought, I'll gain but ridicule 
 
 and spite, 
 As, lured by fruit by tall men raught, a dwarf with arm 
 
 uplifted quite ! 
 
 Or haply, there's a door of word made thro* this race by 
 
 bards of yore ; 
 As thro' a gem by needle bored, like thread I'll enter 
 
 thro' the door. 
 
 So I, the kings all pure from birth, whose works till rise 
 
 of fruit were wrought, 
 The lords of all the sea-girt earth, whose cars were up 
 
 to heaven brought. 
 
 Who offer'd to the fire due rite, whose suitors gain'd 
 
 what they did sue. 
 Who suited to the crime the wite, whose waking was in 
 
 season due, 
 
THE RACE OF RAGHU. 105 
 
 Who stored their wealth for bounty's name, who all for 
 
 truth but little spake, 
 Who conquer' d for the sake of fame, who met with 
 
 wives for offspring's sake, j ^ 
 
 Who all in childhood learnt their lore, in youth each 
 
 worldly good did try. 
 In age did Hve Uke sages hoar, and musing in the end 
 
 did die, 
 
 The Raghus' lofty line I'll teU, tho' meagre wealth of 
 
 words be mine. 
 For, on mine ear their merits fell, and urged me to this 
 
 rash design. 
 
 To this the good their ears should lean, — the verdict 
 
 " good " or " bad " is theirs ; 
 For, in the fire the gold is seen, if pure, or if some dross 
 
 it bears. - 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Leaving out the two great national epics of India, the 
 " Race of Raghu " is by far the greatest epic in Sanskrit 
 literature. There is a pretty readable English version of it by 
 P. de Lacy Johnstone.] 
 
MERCILESS BEAUTY. 
 
 {From Chaucer). 
 
 I. — Captivity. 
 
 YOUR two sweet eyes will slay me suddenly : 
 I cannot hold in me their beauteous sheen, 
 So wounds it thro' and thro' my heart full keen. 
 If but your word will heal up hastily 
 My heart's sore wound, while still the wound is green 
 Your two sweet eyes will slay me suddenly : 
 I cannot hold in me their beauteous sheen. 
 Upon my truth I tell you faithfully, 
 That you are of my Hfe and death the queen, 
 For with my death the truth shall all be seen : 
 Your two sweet eyes will slay me suddenly : 
 I cannot hold in me their beauteous sheen. 
 So wounds it thro' and thro' my heart full keen. 
 
 II. — Rejection. 
 
 So has your beauty from your heart seduced 
 
 Pity, that hardly it avails me to complain ; 
 
 For Power holds your mercy in his chain. 
 
 Tho' guiltless, thus my death have you induced. 
 
 I tell you true, I do not need to feign ; 
 
 So has your beauty from your heart seduced 
 Pity, that hardly it avails me to complain. 
 
 Alas ! that Nature has in you produced 
 
 Such beauty great, that no man may attain 
 
 To mercy, tho' he perish for the pain ! 
 
 So has your beauty from your heart seduced 
 Pity, that hardly it avails me to complain ; 
 For Power holds your mercy in his chain. 
 
MERCILESS BEAUTY. 107 
 
 III. — Escape. 
 
 Since I, from Love escaping, am so fat, 
 I never think I'm in his prison lean ; 
 Since I am free, I count him not a bean. 
 He may give answer, saying this or that ; 
 I do not care, I speak that which I mean. 
 
 Since I, from Love escaping, am so fat, 
 
 I never think Fm in his prison lean. 
 Now Love has struck my name out of his slate, 
 And he is struck out of my books full clean 
 For evermore ; there is none other mean. 
 
 Since I, from Love escaping, am so fat, 
 
 I never think Fm in his prison lean ; 
 
 Since I am free, I count him not a bean. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 [Note. — Observe the construction of this beautiful Triple Roundel.] 
 
THE KING'S QUAIR: STT. 1-7. 
 
 (From James I. of Scotland). 
 
 HIGH in the heaven's figure circular 
 The ruddy stars were twinkling as the fire ; 
 And, in the Aquarius, Cynthia shining far 
 Did wash her tresses like the golden wire, — 
 Who late erewhile, in fair and fresh attire. 
 Thro' Capricorn did heave her horns full bright : 
 Now northward came adown the midmost night. 
 
 When as I lay in bed awake alone, 
 Just roused from sleep a little while before, 
 Unto my mind full many things came on, 
 Now this, now that ; I cannot say wherefore. 
 But sleep, for the world's craft, I could no more ; 
 Which then I knew not better to beguile 
 Than taking up a book to read the while : 
 
 Whereof the name is call'd full properly 
 
 Boethius, faithful to the author old, 
 
 Showing the counsel of philosophy 
 
 Collected by that senator noble- soul' d 
 
 Of Rome, who once on earth high place did hold, 
 
 And, from his wealth awhile by Fortune rent. 
 
 Was doom'd to poverty in banishment : 
 
 And there to hear this worthy lord and clerk, 
 His matter sweet, full of morahty ; 
 His florid quill so well he set to work. 
 Describing first his old prosperity. 
 And out of that his later misery ; 
 And then how he, in his poetic strain. 
 His comfort in philosophy did gain. 
 
THE KING'S QUAIR. 109 
 
 For which, tho' I on purpose from my book 
 To steal a sleep at the same time began, 
 Ere I could stop, I wish'd the more to look 
 Upon the writing of this noble man, 
 Who in himself the full recovery won 
 
 And so the virtue of his youth before 
 Was in his age the ground of his delight ; 
 Fortune tum'd him the back, and on that score 
 His comfort there he makes, that he is quite 
 Freed from such doubtful worldly appetite ; 
 And so his penance worthily he takes 
 And by his virtue all-sufficing makes, 
 
 With many a noble reason, to his taste, 
 
 A-writing in his beauteous Latin tongue, 
 
 So full of fruit, rhetorically placed, 
 
 Which to declare my brain is much too young ; 
 
 And so I let him pass, and, in my song. 
 
 Proceed I will unto my theme once more, 
 
 Whereof I treat, and give digressions o'er. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — King James was a prisoner in England and there learnt the 
 Chaucerian tradition. But, unlike Chaucer's, his style is Latin- 
 istic, and therefore Scotch. The name "rime royal " given to 
 the Chaucerian stanza is due to him. The device of a sleep 
 is quite mediaeval.] 
 
THE LAY OF THE NIBELUNGS : 
 ADVENTURE I. 
 
 Krimhild. 
 
 To us, in olden stories, is many a wonder told 
 Of warriors praise- deserving, of deeds full great 
 and bold, 
 Of peace and high carousal, of joy and bitter tear ; 
 Of boldest chieftains' fighting you shall now a wonder 
 hear. 
 
 In Burgundy there grew up a maiden fair of sheen. 
 In all the lands there never a fairer could be seen ; 
 She bore the name of Krimhild, and was a woman fair. 
 For whom had many a gallant to lose his life for e'er. 
 
 That lovely-looking maiden to woo, did seem but right; 
 For her did yearn bold chieftains ; no person bore her 
 
 spite. 
 All fair beyond all measure, such was her life refined ; 
 The lady young had virtues to grace all womankind. 
 
 Three kings did seek to guard her, noble and wealthy 
 
 they: 
 Sir Gunther and Sir Gemot, those chieftains praised in 
 
 fray, 
 And Giselher the younker, a gallant fighter hard. 
 The lady was their sister ; the chiefs had her for 
 
 ward. 
 
 The princes were all gentle, and born of noble race, 
 Bold with a might unmeasured, those chieftains rich in 
 
 grace ; 
 The great Burgundian country, so people named their 
 
 land ; 
 They work'd full startling wonders since then in 
 
 EtzeVs strand. 
 
THE LAY OF THE NIBELUNGS. iii 
 
 At Worms by Rhine's great river they dwelt with all 
 
 their might ; 
 To them, their land all over, did homage many a knight 
 With praise and therewith honour until the end of life. 
 They had a woful ending, since by two ladies' strife. 
 
 A wealthy queen their mother, Dame Ut^ named was 
 
 she; 
 Their father's name was Dankrat ; wide lands he left 
 
 them three, 
 When he this life departed, a doughty wealthy man ; 
 He, even while a younker, had full mighty honour won. 
 
 The three kings all of them were, as I have said before, 
 Endued with full high valour ; to them allegiance bore 
 Even the goodliest chieftains, of whom it hath been 
 
 said, 
 Right bold they were and stubborn, in fighting ne'er 
 
 afraid. 
 
 There was of Tronje Hagen, and eke his brother fair, 
 Dankwart the very nimble, Ortwein of Metz was there. 
 And eke the two high margraves, Erkwart and Ger^ 
 
 hight. 
 And Volker come from Alsace, with ev'ry valour dight. 
 
 Rumold the kitchen-master, a gallant fighter hard, 
 Sindold and Hunold also ; these princes had to guard 
 The rites and eke the honours, the three kings' men were 
 
 they. 
 Theycall'd now many chieftains, whose names I cannot 
 
 say. 
 
 Dankwart he was the marshall ; there was his nephew 
 
 free, 
 The steward of the three kings, Ortwein of Metz was he ; 
 
112 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Sindold he was cup-bearer, a gallant fighter hard ; 
 Hunold was chamber-waiter : they could high honour 
 guard. 
 
 Of all this mighty service, and of their well-known might. 
 And of their great high valour, and of their homage right, 
 Which all the princes guarded with pride their lives 
 
 throughout, 
 Of these no man were able to give the story out. 
 
 There came a dream on Krimhild, 'mid virtues she did 
 
 bear. 
 That she a savage falcon full many a day did rear, 
 And that two eagles tore him, and this her eyes before ; 
 To her in the world could happen no grief she felt so sore. 
 
 The dream she then to Ut^ ,her gentle mother, told. 
 She, kind in her own manner, the meaning did unfold : 
 " The falcon which thou sawest, that is a noble wight : 
 Right well may God defend him, thou must have lost 
 him quite." 
 
 " What say est thou of husband, O mother dear to me ? 
 
 The wooing of a chieftain I will not ever see. 
 
 All fair will I be living until my death for e'er, 
 
 So that I may a husband's keen sorrow never bear." 
 
 " Now swear thou not too surely," her mother then did 
 
 speak ; 
 " Should ever heart's full pleasure in the world a woman 
 
 seek, 
 That came of husband's wooing : thou wert a beauteous 
 
 wife, 
 If God do not deny thee a right good hero's life." 
 
THE LAY OF THE NIBELUNGS. 113 
 
 " O leave alone the counsel," she spake, " O lady mine : 
 There is of many a woman much proof that clear doth 
 
 shine ; 
 How they do Uve with sorrow the youngest one can show : 
 I shall abide a maiden ; so none can give me woe." 
 
 In her high virtues many, which she did guard full fair. 
 She lived, the noble maiden, full many a day with cheer 
 So that she knew of no one, whom she might love in life. 
 And yet was she in honour a right good hero's wife. 
 
 It was the selfsame falcon, that she in dream did see, 
 Whereof her mother told her : how sore revenged was she 
 Upon her nearest kinsmen, who had the slaughter done ! 
 For one man's death did perish full many a mother's 
 son. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— The best text is that of Golther, which I have followed in 
 the main. In 1. 2 I prefer the reading "kuonheit" to 
 •• arebeit," and in 11. 25 and 26 I reject the reading adopted by 
 Golther. I have given regularity to the irregular metre of the 
 original, ray metre being that of Macaulay's " Lays of Ancient 
 Rome" without its occasional internal rimes and occasional 
 riming octosyllabic lines. Take away the last two stanzas of 
 this old German poem, and what you have left is— nothing !] 
 
tTHE MONK'S TALE : Stt. 1—4. 
 
 (From Chaucer). 
 
 I WILL bewail, in tragic style profound, 
 The fate of those that stood in high degree, 
 And fell so low, no remedy was found 
 To bring them out of their adversity ; 
 Forjcertain *tis, when Fortune seeks to flee, 
 There is no man her progress can withhold ; 
 Let no one blindly trust prosperity ; 
 Beware of these examples true and old. 
 
 With Lucifer, tho' he an angel were. 
 And not a man, with him will I begin ; 
 Because, tho' Fortune can no angel dare, 
 From high degree yet feU he for his sin 
 Down into hell pit, where yet is in. 
 O Lucifer ! most bright of angels all. 
 Now art thou Satan, canst no freedom win 
 From sorrows, into which has led thy fall. 
 
 Lo Adam, in the field of Damascene, 
 
 With God's own finger fashion'd fair was he, 
 
 And not begot of human seed unclean. 
 
 And held all Paradise, except one tree. 
 
 Never had worldly man such high degree 
 
 As Adam, till he for misgovernance 
 
 Was driven out of high prosperity 
 
 To labour, and to hell, and to mischance. 
 
 Lo Samson, he whose coming was proclaim'd 
 By angel long before his birth could be. 
 Who was to God Almighty sacred named. 
 And stood in noble state, while he could see. 
 
THE MONK'S TALE. 115 
 
 There never was another such as he, 
 
 To speak of strength and also of hardihood ; 
 
 But to his wives he told his secret free, 
 
 For which he killed himself in wretched mood ■ 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The fall of those in power was one of the' favourite themes 
 of mediaeval English poets, e.g., Lydgate and Sackville. The 
 modern idea is that of Longfellow : 
 
 •• Lives of great men all remind us, 
 We can make our lives sublime, 
 And departing leave behind us 
 Footprints on the sands of Time."] 
 
EARLY BRITAIN. 
 
 (From Andrew of Wyntoun). 
 
 BRITAIN blest the best must be 
 Of all the islands in the sea, 
 Where flowers are many on fields full fair,. 
 Whole of hue and wholesome of air. 
 All kinds of corn there copious meet, 
 Peas and oats and hops and wheat ; 
 Both fruit on tree and fish in flood ; 
 And to all cattle pasture good. 
 Solinus says, in Britain's soil, 
 Some places grow apart from toU 
 Such grass that sometimes cattle there 
 Cannot be kept from too much fare ; 
 Their food must turn them to decay, 
 To rot, or burst, or die some day. 
 There woodlands wild have wealth at will ; 
 There herds do hide in holm and hill ; 
 There bend the boughs for burdening birth ; 
 Both merle and mavis make their mirth. 
 There's hunting of what deer soever, 
 And right good fishing in the river ; 
 All fish in plenty there abound. 
 And needful things for man are found. 
 
 By west of Britain there doth he 
 AU the land of Ireland high, 
 Which is a land of noble air, 
 Of firth and field and flowers full fair. 
 
EARLY BRITAIN. 117 
 
 No kind of venomous beast there may 
 live or last beyond a day, 
 As eft, or adder, frog, or toad, 
 Tho* there you see them keep abode. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — A native of Britain writing about Britain quotes Solinus ! 
 This is one of the several charms of the poem. Merle and 
 mavis— Blackbird and thrush.] 
 
CiEDMON'S HYMN. 
 
 {From the so-called Ccedmon). 
 
 NOW we should worship heaven-land's Warden, \ 
 Might of the Maker, and His mental thought, 
 Work Worthy-sire-like ; as He of wonders, each 
 one. 
 Ever the Master, order'd the beginning. 
 He erst did make earthly children 
 Heaven as high roof holy Maker ; 
 Then the middle world ; man's great Warden, 
 Ever the Master, built there-after 
 Fields for folk's use. Friend Almighty. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Compare this with the hymn of Adam and Eve in Milton's 
 •• Paradise Lost."] 
 
THE ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR: 
 A STAVE. 
 
 (From Huchown). 
 
 BARE was her body, and black to the bone, 
 All clogg'd with clay, uncomelily clad ; 
 It wofully cursed, it waU'd like woman lone, 
 That neither on head nor on hair a hood it had. 
 It stopt, it was astounded, it stood as a stone, 
 It was demented, it moan'd, it mused as if mad. 
 To that grisly ghost Sir Gawain is gone. 
 He ran to it with a rush, for he never had dread ; 
 For dread had he never, know ye who read me right ; 
 On the joint of her jowl 
 A toad was pecking her poll. 
 Her eyes were hollow with hole,'' 
 Blazing coal-bright.' 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Observe the construction of this beautiful stave, and 
 compare the metre of Huchown with that of the " Pearl."] 
 
LINES ON FREEDOM. 
 
 (From Barbour), 
 
 OH ! Freedom is a noble thing ! 
 Freedom to man all bliss doth bring ; 
 Freedom to man all solace gives ; 
 He lives at ease who freely hves ! 
 A noble heart may have no ease, 
 Nor aught else that his mind may please, 
 If Freedom fails ; for, bliss all free 
 Is cared for more than aught else be. 
 He who has lived a freeman aye, 
 May not know well the sad sad way. 
 The anguish, nor the wretched fate. 
 That's coupled with a thrall's estate. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— This is one of the earliest expressions of the Scottish sense 
 of freedom, and is referred to by Scott in his " History of 
 Scotland."] 
 
SWELLFOOT THE TYRANT, PROL., 
 LL. I— 13. 
 
 (From Sophocles). 
 Swellfoot. 
 
 O CHILDREN, ye of Cadmus old the youngest 
 brood, 
 
 What is this session ye are sitting here for me. 
 With suppUcative wreathed branches chapleted ? 
 At once the city with the smoke of incense teems. 
 At once with paeans and with rising sounds of groans ; 
 I, thinking proper, not thro' other messengers 
 To hear, O children, by myself am hither come, 
 The all-renowned Swellfoot — such the name I bear. 
 But say, old father, since by nature thou art fit 
 For these to speak forth, in what mood delay ye here. 
 All deep-affrighted, or believing I shall wish 
 To give aU succour ? for, unfeeling I, indeed, 
 Would be, no pity showing to such seat as this. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— I am indebted to Kennedy for one or two expressions. I 
 is interesting to compare the quantitative metres of the Greek 
 drama with the qualitative metres of the Roman.] 
 
LOVES, BK. I, EL. 5. 
 
 {From Ovid). 
 
 HOT was the air, and the day's midmost hour wholly 
 was ended ; 
 Placed were my limbs to be soothed all in the 
 middle of bed. 
 Open'd wide was a part of the window, the window was 
 part-closed, 
 Just as the woods full oft hold but a shadow of light, 
 Just as the dim twilight doth glimmer, as Phoebus is 
 flying, 
 Or, when night is retired, while yet unrisen is day. 
 Yon light should to the maids that are bashful of manner 
 be given, 
 *Neath which shame all shy hopeth to find her a nook. 
 Lo, my Corinna appears, wrapt o'er in a mantle ungirded ; 
 Touching the white of her neck parted asunder her hair : 
 Just as, they say, to the chamber of wedding Semiramis, 
 well-shaped. 
 Wended, and Lais as well, courted of many a man. 
 
 [Note. — This passage illustrates Ovid's beautiful style, which lent 
 some of its sweetness to Shakespeare's early poems.] 
 
SARAH ; AT THE BATH. 
 
 [ (From Hugo). 
 
 SARAH, in her sloth fuU fair, 
 Poises her 
 In a hammock spread upon 
 Top of basin of a spring 
 
 Gathering 
 Water from Ilyssus drawn. 
 
 And the swing that may not last 
 
 Is well glass' d 
 In the mirror seen well thro', 
 With the gentle bather white 
 
 Leaning light, 
 Leaning light herself to view. 
 
 Ev'ry time the boat-hke swing, 
 
 Tottering, 
 Skims the surface in its flight. 
 O'er the water all astir 
 
 Flash forth her 
 Beauteous feet and neck so bright. 
 
 She her timid foot doth set 
 
 On wave wet, 
 Where a moving picture veers, 
 Makes its marble foot grow red, 
 
 And, as mad, 
 At the water's freshness fleers. 
 
 Stay thou here, and hide, and cower*! 
 
 In an hour 
 Thou wilt see with glowing eye 
 Rise from bath the artless fair, 
 
 Wholly bare. 
 Placing hands on arms awry ! 
 
124 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 For, all like a star doth shine 
 
 A maid fine 
 Leaving bath of billow clear, 
 Searching if there comes no man, 
 
 Quivering wan, 
 Wholly dripping in the air ! 
 
 She is there, 'neath leafage thick. 
 
 Waking quick 
 At the slightest sound of woe 
 And a-reddening, for a fly 
 
 Skims her by. 
 Like a pome about to blow. 
 
 All you see, that robe or veil 
 
 Doth unveil : 
 In her flaming azure eyne, 
 Her bright look, which nought can bar. 
 
 Is the star 
 That in heaven blue doth shine. 
 
 Water wiped on frame doth drain 
 
 Like to rain. 
 As upon a poplar white ; 
 As if drop by drop did fall, 
 
 One and all. 
 Pearls from out her necklace bright. 
 
 Sarah, heedless in her sloth, 
 
 ^ Is all loth 
 
 Her sweet sports to finish quite ; 
 
 Ever doth she poise her free 
 
 \^ Silently, 
 
 And she goes in murmur Ught : 
 
SARAH AT THE BATH. 125 
 
 " Oh ! were I a chief tainess, 
 
 Sultaness, — 
 Baths of amber I had ta'en 
 In a bath of marble-stone 
 
 Near a throne 
 Deckt by golden griffins twain ! 
 
 " I would keep the silken swing 
 
 That doth cling 
 To the frame about to swoon ; 
 I would keep the sofa-bed 
 
 Whence is shed 
 Perfume bringing love's sweet boon. 
 
 ** Bare, I could be skipping high, 
 
 'Neath the sky. 
 In the garden's little brook, 
 Fearing not to see in shade 
 
 Of dark glade 
 Two bright eyes with sudden look. 
 
 " One would have to risk his head, 
 
 Worri^d» 
 And to brave, to see me now, 
 Sabre bare of footman grave 
 
 And the slave 
 White of teeth and black of brow 1 
 
 ** Next, I could, without a pest 
 
 To my rest, 
 Let, with all my garbs of queen, 
 Train along the flag-stones wide 
 
 SUppers pied, 
 Clad with broider'd ruby's sheen." 
 
ia6 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Thus she speaks in princess' style, 
 
 And the while 
 Poises her, with love-dreams gay. 
 Laughing youthful maiden bright. 
 \^i Mindless quite 
 
 Of the rapid wings of day. 
 
 And the wave, for bather's foot 
 
 Caring not, 
 Spirts out on the turf serene, 
 On her garment plaited Ught, 
 
 Poised aright 
 On the boughs of boskage green. 
 
 Nathless, from the meadows' ends 
 
 Her young friends 
 Take their way all in a band ; 
 Lo, their gentle bevy gay 
 
 Fly away, 
 Holding one another's hand. 
 
 Each one in her way doth sing, 
 
 Pass, and bring 
 This reproach into her song : 
 " Oh ! the girl her laziness, 
 
 She doth dress 
 On a harvest-day so long ! " 
 
 July, igo8. 
 
 [Note, — The conception of simple and easy-going Sarah is highly 
 artistic, and quite French.] 
 
THE DREAM OF ANACREON. 
 
 (From the Anacreontea), 
 
 THRO* the hours of night a-sleeping 
 On the ocean-purple carpets, 
 Steep'd in utmost bhss with3acchus, 
 I did seem, with feet full nimble, 
 To pursue a chase full rapid. 
 In the midst of maidens sporting : 
 And I was reviled by younkers, 
 With a softer form than Bacchus, 
 Hurling at me terms opprobrious. 
 On account of these fair maidens : 
 And, as I desired to kiss them, 
 All escaped me waked from slumber : 
 And I, left alone, all wretched. 
 Once again did seek to rest me. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Whoever wrote this dream of Anacreon certainly caught 
 the true spirit of the Teian bard. The metre of Longfellow's 
 "Hiawatha," which is here adopted, is the nearest English 
 equivalent of the original metre.] 
 
THE LONGING OF RADHA. 
 
 (From Jayadeva). 
 
 w 
 
 HILE I to the lonesome axbour home am come, 
 and he recHned in secret lieth darkling. 
 
 And while I look at all the skies in wonder dumb, 
 and he doth laugh thro' might of bliss 
 a-sparkhng, 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble, 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 While I feel ashamed the very first we meet, 
 he with hundred coaxings sly looks tender, 
 
 While I speak to him in simper soft and sweet, 
 
 and slack mine irksome raiment he doth render, 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble, 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 And while I am upon the bed of leaflets placed, 
 
 and he is long upon my bosom sunken, 
 While I have bestow'd my kisses and embraced, 
 
 he embracing of my lip is drunken, 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble. 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
|THE LONGING OF RADHA. 129 
 
 While thro' growing sloth I let mine eyelids fall, 
 
 and all with bristles fair his cheeks do bicker, 
 
 While with dews of toil my frame is wetted all, 
 
 and he with winsome wine of Love doth flicker, 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble, 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 While I like the cuckoo's grateful warble coo, 
 and he the lore of Love hath comprehended. 
 
 While with loosen'd blossoms sHps my braid all thro', 
 and he hath fondly toy'd with orbs deep-bended, 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble, 
 Gro a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 And while on feet my jewel-anklets tinkling beat, 
 and he hath fill'd the whole extent of bhsses. 
 
 While my zone link-broken renders speeches sweet, 
 he with hand on hair doth give me kisses, 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble. 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 And while my sense at time of bliss brings sloth, 
 he doth shut amain his lotus-eye like burgeon, 
 
 And while my creeper-frame impatient falleth loth, 
 and Madhu's Slayer rising Love doth urge on, 
 
130 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble, 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro* thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 Dan Jayadeva's utterance is this, 
 
 mark'd by Madhu's Foeman's passion-flow exceed- 
 ing tender ; 
 What e'er the anxious cowherd-bride of bliss 
 
 mention'd, may it spread and charms engender. 
 
 O my maid, 
 
 make thou Kesi's Foe, the noble. 
 Go a-sporting all with me, 
 
 himself thro' thought of Love's intensest longing 
 all in trouble. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Jayadeva's poem has been aptly called the " Indian Song 
 of Songs " by Sir Edwin Arnold. The love-story in it is ex- 
 plained as an allegory of the communion of the human soul 
 with the Divine Soul through faith.] 
 
'URVASI. 
 
 (From Roby Tagore). 
 
 NO mother thou, no daughter thou, thou art no bride, 
 O maiden fair and free, 
 
 O habitant of Nandan, Urvasi ! 
 When Eve on cattle-folds doth light, her frame all tired, 
 
 with down-drawn golden veil, 
 Thou, in a corner of some home, dost never light the lamp 
 
 of even pale ; 
 With feet in doubt all faltering, with trembling breast, 
 
 with lowly-fallen sight, 
 With smiles all soft, thou goest not, in bashfulness, 
 to bridal couch bedight 
 
 In the still heart of night. 
 As is the early rise of Dawn, a veilless maiden fair, 
 Thou art untroubled e'er. 
 
 As blooms a flower that hath no stalk, so spreading out 
 by thine own self in thee, 
 When didst thou blossom forth, O Urvasi ? 
 All at the front of primal spring, thou didst arise from out 
 
 the full-churn'd deep ; 
 In right hand was the nectar-cup, the poison-bowl in 
 
 left hand didst thou keep ; 
 The billow-frowning mighty main, all bound by charm 
 
 like winding-gaited snake, 
 Did fall adown beneath thy feet ; its m57riad hoods that 
 rose full wide awake 
 
 Did homage for thy sake. 
 O jasmine- white, O naked fair, by all the Gods 
 obey'd. 
 
 Thou art a blameless maid. 
 
132 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Say, wast thou e'er at any time, a tender bud that its 
 own prime did see, 
 
 O thou of youth immortal, Urvasi ? 
 Upon the darksome ocean-floor, say, at whose home, 
 
 a- sitting all alone, 
 Amid a heap of gems and pearls, wast wont to be on 
 
 childhood's froHck prone ? 
 In carverns lit by jewel-lamps, the sea all loud with 
 
 billowy music deep, 
 A stainless laughter on thy face, amid a couch prepared 
 with coral-heap, 
 
 Say, on whose lap didst sleep ? 
 As soon thou wokest in the world, thou wast all 
 made of youth. 
 
 All perfect in thy blowth. 
 
 From age to age thou hast remain'd, and thou alone, 
 the world's dear one to be, 
 
 O thou of matchless beauty, Urvasi ! 
 Hoar anchorites, their musings broke, upon thy feet 
 
 the fruit of penance pour ; 
 *Tis at the shooting of thine eye the threefold world with 
 
 fickle youth is sore ; 
 The maddening fragrance flown from thee the zephyr 
 
 blind doth ever blow around ; 
 Like honey-drunken humming drone, the poet charm'd, 
 with mind allured, turns round 
 
 With chainless music's soand. 
 With tinkling of toe-trinkets go, thy^cloth-hem 
 flowing by, 
 Like lightning quick to fly. 
 
URVASI. 133 
 
 When, in the council of the Gods, thou dancest romod, 
 
 elate with lofty glee, 
 /'• O quivering wavering fickle Urvasi, — 
 
 At beat on beat there dances up amid the main the 
 
 billows' crowd in mirth, 
 With heads of crops a-shivering there trembles up the 
 
 green hem of the earth. 
 From out the necklace on thy breast upon the sky the 
 
 stars do slip and fall, 
 All on a sudden in the breast of ev'ry male the soul is 
 self-lost all, 
 
 Blood dances at the call. 
 At end of sky thy midmost zone doth break and 
 fall outright, 
 O thou uncover'd quite ! 
 
 Upon the sunrise mount of heaven a very Dawn embodied 
 must thou be, 
 
 O charmer of the world, fair Urvasi ! 
 With flow of tears the world doth shed is wetted all the 
 
 sHmness of thy form ; 
 With heart-blood of the threefold world are painted 
 ^ all thy ruddy feet full warm ; 
 O thou loose-braided and disrobed, full-blossom'd is the 
 
 world's desired delight 
 All like a lotus, in whose midst thou settest down thy 
 lotus-feet so bright. 
 
 Whose weight is all too light. 
 Within the endless heaven of mind thou makest 
 sport for e'er, 
 
 O vision's comrade fair ! 
 
 Out yonder, hark ! from sky to sky, both Heaven and 
 Earth are crying out for thee, 
 
 O cruel-hearted deaf -soul' d Urvasi ! 
 
134 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Will now the primal age antique upon this world return 
 
 as heretofore ? — 
 From out the floorless shoreless deep, with wetted hair, 
 
 say, wilt thou rise once more ? 
 Say, will that earHest form of thine unfold itself upon the 
 
 earUest dawn ? 
 Will ev'ry limb of thine be wet with wounds from eyes of 
 all the woe-begone. 
 
 With tear-drops flowing on ? 
 And will the mighty main at once with matchless 
 music's sound 
 
 Let aU its billows bound ? 
 
 'Twill not return, 'twiU not return — for ever set that 
 glory's moon for thee, 
 
 O moonset-mountain's dweller, Urvasi ! 
 And so, to-day, on face of earth, along with breath of 
 
 festive vernal day. 
 From someone sever'd long from love a long-drawn sigh, 
 
 all mingled, comes this way ! < 
 
 When, on the full moon's sheeny night, the quarters ten 
 
 are fiU'd with smiles all o'er, 
 A far-off memory from somewhere doth play a pipe that 
 saddens evermore. 
 
 And showers of tear-drops pour : 
 Still Hope doth keep awake within the soul's 
 outcry, 
 
 O thou with bands put by ! 
 
 ' July, 1908."^ 
 
 [Note. — The source of this iaimitable artistic conception in 
 Kalidasa's well-known play translated by Wilson under the 
 name of " The Hero and the Nymph." Are you not strongly 
 reminded of Aphroditd ?] 
 
A HYMN TO VENUS. 
 
 {From Sappho). 
 
 OTHOU on broider'd throne, immortal Venus, 
 j Daughter of Jove, wile- weaver, I beseech thee. 
 Not, not with pains, and not with troubles, 
 weigh thou, 
 
 O Queen, my spirit ; 
 Bux hither come, if ever thou aforetime 
 That voice of mine with heedful ear from far-off 
 Didst hear, and, having left thy Father's mansions 
 
 All-golden, camest 
 With chariot yoked ; and thou wast drawn by beauteous 
 And fleeting sparrows, round the earth all-dusky 
 A-flapping fast their wings, from utmost heaven 
 
 Athwart the midmost ; 
 And quickly they arrived ; and thou, O blest one, 
 Thy smile displaying on thy face immortal, 
 Didst ask, why now again I grieved, and wherefore 
 
 Again I call'd thee, 
 And what I most desired, for me to happen, 
 With madding spirit. " Now again, what Charmer 
 Wouldst thou lead forth to be thy love ? What person, 
 
 O Sappho, wrongs thee ? 
 " For, even tho' one flies, one soon shall follow. 
 And, if one takes not gifts, one yet shall give them, 
 And, if one loves thee not, one soon shaU love thee, 
 
 Howso unwilhng." 
 
136 
 
 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Come now to me, and loosen me from cruel 
 Tangle of care, and, whatso to accomplish 
 My spirit seeks, accomplish ; and thyself be 
 A fellow-fighter. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Nothing in literary history is so touching as the picture 
 of " Sappho who broke ofif a fragment of her soul for us to 
 guess at." The present poem is quoted by Dionysius of 
 Halicarnassus as an example of the style which he calls 
 "smooth and florid." I have not preserved the alternation of 
 consonants and vowels, which is fine in Greek, but which is 
 apt to be cloying in English.] 
 
AN ODE ON THE DEATH OF A 
 SPARROW. 
 {From Catullus). 
 
 MOURN, O ye Venuses, and O ye Cupids, 
 And mourn, as many men as are full charming ! 
 The sparrow is no more of mine own lady. 
 The sparrow, dear delight of mine own lady, 
 Whom more than her own eyne she used to cherish : 
 For, he was fed on mead, and knew his mistress 
 Herself so weU as knows a girl her mother : 
 Nor would he stir away from out her bosom ; 
 But flitting all about, now hither, now thither. 
 All to his mistress' self he used to twitter. 
 He now goes thro' a way all full of darkness 
 Thither, from whence, they say, no one may come back : 
 But ill be unto thee, O evil darkness 
 Of Hell, that eatest up all objects beauteous : 
 Such beauteous sparrow off from me thou stolest. 
 O ill hath come to pass ! O poor lost sparrow, 
 'Tis now for thee the eyne of mine own lady 
 With tears are swollen soft and redden'd, soft ejme ! 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Skelton may emulate Catullus in his " Boke of Phyllyp 
 Sparrowe," but does he come near Catullus ? The sly sweet 
 tone of sarcasm is heightened in the original by diminutives, 
 which can be rendered by more than one device in English. 
 Venus' car, it will be remembered, was drawn by sparrows. 
 Cicero mentions four Venuses and three Cupids.] 
 
THE GARMENT OF GOOD LADIES. 
 
 {From Henryson). 
 
 WOULD my good Lady love me best, 
 And seek to please my mind 
 I would a garment goodliest 
 To fit her body find. 
 
 Of honour high should be her hood, 
 
 Upon her head to wear, 
 Equipt with self-control so good, 
 
 No blame should injure her. 
 
 Her shirt should be on body fixt. 
 Of chastity so white, -^ 
 
 With shame and dread together mixt, 
 It should be perfect quite. 
 
 Her kirtle should be of no taint, 
 
 All laced with lawful love ; 
 The eyelet-holes, of self-restraint, 
 
 Which ne'er she should remove. 
 
 Her gown should be of goodness fair^ 
 
 Ribbon'd with reputation, 
 Purfled with pleasure ever5rwhere, 
 
 And furr'd with gentle fashion. 
 
 Her belt should be of kindliness. 
 
 Around her middle set ; 
 Her mantle, made of humbleness 
 
 To bear both wind and wet. 
 
 Her hat should be of carriage fair ; 
 
 Her fillet, all of truth ; 
 Her ruff, of goodly thought and rare ; 
 
 Her throat-ribbon, of ruth. 
 
THE GARMENT OF GOOD LADIES. 139 
 
 Her sleeves should be of hopeful mood, 
 
 To keep her from despair ; 
 Her gloves, of sweet house-keeping good, 
 
 To hide her fingers fair. 
 
 Her shoes should be of certainty, 
 
 So that she might not slide ; 
 Her hose, I think, of honesty, 
 
 I should for her provide. 
 
 Would she put on this garment gay, 
 
 I by my bliss would swear 
 That she ne'er wore or green or gray 
 
 That deckt her half so fair. 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This poem alone would justify Tennyson's words : " That 
 dark and true and tender is the North."] 
 
ALCiEUS AND SAPPHO. 
 
 (AlccBus), 
 
 O VIOLET-WEAVING, serene, sweet-smiling 
 Sappho, 
 I would say something, but shame my speech 
 doth hinder. 
 
 (Sappho). 
 And hadst thou longing for what is good or fair. 
 And not some bad thing to say thy tongue were prone, 
 Shame had not, then, thine eyes repleted. 
 But thou hadst spoken about it justly. 
 
 July, 1908 
 
 [Note. — What a world of poetry is mixed up with this dialogue ! 
 It is interesting to note that Alcaeus speaks in Sapphics and 
 Sappho replies in Alcaics. As shame hinders the speech 
 of Alcaeus, his Sapphics, which by the way are "a majore," 
 are incomplete. I like in the main Mr. Bliss Carman's bold 
 reconstruction of Sappho's fragments, although I cannot 
 always keep pace with the flights of his fancy.] 
 
A SONNET ON LAURA'S MIRROR. 
 
 (From Petrarch). 
 
 THAT foe of mine, wherein you're wont to see 
 Your eyes, held dear by Love and Heaven too. 
 With beauty not its own enamoured you, 
 More sweet and glad than mortal form may be 
 Lady, thro' its advice you've banish'd me 
 From out my refuge sweet, and out I flew, 
 A wretched exile ! ne'er was I, I knew. 
 Fit to be there, where you alone sit free. 
 But were I fixt to be your bosom-mate, 
 A flattering mirror should not do me wrong, 
 And make you love yourself, O proud and rude ! 
 Sure, if you call to mind Narcissus' fate, 
 What a vain end to which you drift along, 
 Altho* the mead's unfit for flower so good I 
 
 July, 1908. 
 [Note.— This is the true Italian Sonnet.] * 
 
A SONNET ONi PHYLLIS'S*,^FACE. 
 
 (From Wyatt). , 
 
 IF feeble'^care, and sudden paleness sore, 
 And sighs with speech full little to complain, 
 Now joy, now woe, be found my face to stain,- 
 If , for small hope, much fear upon that score 
 To haste or slack my pace to less or more 
 Be sign of love, — then do I love again. 
 If thou ask whom, then since I did refrain 
 From Brunet, who my wealth did so adore, — 
 The face unfeign'd of Phyllis has the place 
 That Brunet had ; she has, and ever shall ; 
 She from myself now holds me in her grace ; 
 She holds in sway my mind, my will, and all ; 
 Within my heart full worthy does she stay, 
 Without whose help I scarcely live a day. 
 
 July, 1908.I 
 [Note,— This may be called the Wyattian Sonnet.] 
 
A SONNETJONiGERALDINE'S 
 LINEAGE. 
 
 {From Surrey). 
 
 OF Tuscany, my lady^ worthy race ; 
 Fair Florence was erewhile her ancient seat ; 
 The Western Isle, whose pleasant shore does face 
 Wild Cambria's cliffs, did give her life and heat ; 
 Foster'd she was with milk of Irish breast ; 
 Her sire, an earl ; her dame, of princes* blood ; 
 From tender years in Britain did she rest. 
 With child of prince, who tasted costly food. 
 Hunsdon did make her first before me shine ; • 
 Her name is Geraldine ; her hue is bright. 
 Hampton did teach me first to wish her mine ; 
 Windsor, alas ! did chase me from her sight. 
 Her beauty, like her virtues, from above ! 
 Happy is he, that can obtain her love ! ' 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is the true English Sonnet. Call it a " quatorzain '* 
 if you like, but "with this key Shakespeare unlocked his 
 heart."] 
 
A SONNET ON ELIZABETH'S NAME. 
 From Spenser). 
 
 ONE day I wrote her name upon the sand, 
 But came the waves, and wash'd it all away ; 
 Again I wrote it with a second hand. 
 But came the tide, and made my pains its prey. 
 " Vain man," said she, " that dost in vain essay 
 A mortal thing so to immortalise ; 
 For I myself shall seek a like decay, 
 And wish my name were blotted out likewise. 
 " Not so," said I ; *' let baser things devise 
 To die in dust, but you shall Hve by fame : 
 My verse shall bid your virtues ever rise, 
 And in the heavens write your glorious name. 
 And there, when death shaU all the world subdue, 
 Our love shall live, and later life renew.' 
 
 July, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This may be called the Spenserian Sonnet. Here we 
 have the best sonnet in the whole •' Amoretti " of Spenser.] 
 
THE REVELLER. 
 
 (From Meleager). 
 
 6 6 /^^ AST be the die. J2ome on, I am off. See, muster 
 ^^ up courage." 
 
 *' Swiller of wine, what's your longing ? " 
 " I'm longing to dance." 
 " Longing to dance ? Where wanders the mind ? What 
 reason in Love is ? " 
 " Come on quick. Where's your previous fondness 
 of words ? 
 Throw not away much trouble of wisdom. Only I do 
 know 
 This, that the spirit of Jove even is master'd by 
 Love." 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — See the reason that there is in Love in Plato's 
 " Symposium " : •« The lover is godly, because he is inspired by 
 God. If Love be, as he surely is, a godhead, he cannot be 
 evil."] 
 
"W 
 
 SIVA AND UMA. 
 
 {From Visakhadatta). 
 
 HO the happy one is here 
 
 on thy head ? " '* Moonbeam it is." 
 " What ' is that the name she's got ? ' 
 
 " Tho' the name of such a one 
 
 is a very well-known name, 
 
 how is it forgot by thee ? " 
 
 " Woman, not the Moon, I ask." 
 " Let her say, let Vijaya, 
 
 if the Moon thou trustest not." 
 
 He that from the Goddess strives 
 
 to conceal the Stream Divine, 
 
 guileful Lord, your saviour be. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Observe the play on words, and the following allusions : — 
 (i) The River-Goddess Ganga sprang from the matted 
 hair of the God Siva, and was the rival of his wife Uma. 
 (2) Siva had the sixteenth digit of the Moon on his crest, 
 and "Moonbeam" was a possible female name. (3) Vijaya 
 was a handmaid of Uma.] 
 
I 
 
 DREAM-PICTURES. 
 
 {From Heine). 
 
 ONCE did dream a jdream of Love's wild glow. 
 Of fairy tresses, m5nrtle, mignonette, 
 ' Of cheating lips with bitter redness set, 
 Of gloomy songs with gloomy music-flow. 
 
 Paled, faded are the dreams a long long time, 
 Faded my dearest picture dream-begot ! 
 There's left me nothing, but what fever hot 
 I once did pour into pathetic rime. 
 
 Thou, waif of song, art left. Now fade and die, 
 And seek that dream-made form long vanished quite, 
 And say for me, if thou dost leap to light, — 
 That airy shade I greet with airy sigh. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 £NoTE. — Heine is so fine in all his lyrics that I am not quite sure 
 why I chose this instead of any other.] 
 
THE LAKE. 
 
 {From Lamartine). 
 
 THUS always hurried forth to new and newer clime, 
 Into eternal night borne once for all away, 
 Can we not evermore upon the sea of Time 
 Cast anchor for a day ? 
 
 O lake ! the year hath scarce completed its career, 
 A.nd by the cherish' d flood she should have seen anew, 
 Behold ! I come alone to take this stone-seat where 
 She sat before thy view ! 
 
 Thus didst thou make a roar beneath these rocky caves ; 
 Thus didst thou break thyself their riven sides to meet ; 
 Thus did the wind fling out the foam of all thy waves 
 Upon her well-loved feet. 
 
 One eve — ^remember'st thou ? — in silence we did rove ; 
 We only heard afar, on wave and 'neath the skies, 
 The noise of rowing men who all in cadence clove 
 Thy flood's harmonious rise. 
 
 AH on a sudden, tones the earth did never hear. 
 Upon the charmed shore, did cleave the echoes all : 
 The flood did list with heed ; the voice I hold most dear. 
 Did let these accents fall : 
 
 " O Time ! delay thy flight ; and ye, propitious Hours, 
 
 Your onward speed delay : 
 And let us fully taste the quick delight that's ours 
 
 In life's most beauteous day ! 
 
 " Unhappy folk enow beseech you here below, 
 
 Flow, flow to give them rest ; 
 Take with their days away their inward-eating woe ; 
 
 Forget to touch the blest. 
 
THE LAKE. 1,4^ 
 
 ** But I do ask in vain for some more moments* time : 
 
 Time scapes me in his flight ; 
 I say unto this night : Be slower ; and the prime 
 
 Of day dispels the night. 
 
 '* Then let us, let us love ! the hour that flies before 
 
 Let us enjoy anon ! 
 Fbr man no haven is, for Time there is no shore ; >■ 
 
 He flows, and we pass on ! " 
 
 O jealous Time, can now these moments of delight, 
 When love in mighty flood doth pour us happiness, 
 Fly far away from us with that same speedy flight 
 As days of deep distress? 
 
 Ah what ! can we not, then, preserve at least their trace ? 
 What ! gone for evermore ! what ! wholly lost for e'er ! 
 Time gave them unto us. Time doth them all efface, 
 He will return them ne'er ! 
 
 The ever, nothingness, the past, dark gulfs of time. 
 What do ye with the days your greedy maws conceal ? 
 Will ye return us, speak, those extasies sublime 
 Which from our grasp ye steal ? 
 
 O lake ! O silent rocks ! O caves ! O forest deep ! 
 O ye whom Time doth spare or may with youth renew, 
 Keep ever of that night, O beauteous Nature, keep, 
 At least the memory due ! 
 
 Let it be in thy calm, let it be in thy storms, 
 Fair lake, and in the face of all thy laughing shore. 
 And in these fir-trees dark, and in these rocks' wild forms 
 Which hang thy waters o'er ! 
 
150 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Let it be in the breeze that shivers in its flight, 
 In noises of thy shores that thine own shores repeat, 
 And in the white-brow'd star that makes thy surface white 
 With radiance soft and sweet ! 
 
 And let the wind that moans, and let the reed that sighs. 
 And let the odours hght thy balmy air doth move, 
 And let all things with ears or breathing nose or eyes, 
 All say this : They did love ! 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is worth all the other poems of Lamartine put 
 together.] 
 
THE'lWEIRD WHEEL OF SIM^THA. 
 
 (From Theocritus). 
 
 WHERE are the bays ? bring them to me, Thestylis ; 
 where are the love-charms ? 
 Make garlands for the bowl with the bright-red 
 blossom of sheep -wool, 
 So I may bind with a spell my beloved man causing me 
 
 trouble ; 
 He, for the last twelve days, oh cruel, hath never been 
 
 hither ; 
 Nor is he ware, if I now were dead, or if yet I am living ; 
 Nor hath he knock' d at my door, spiteful ! Elsewhither 
 
 then, are they 
 Flown off. Love with his light instinct and the Goddess 
 
 of Longing ? 
 Going my way I'U seek Timagetus' college of wrestling 
 There on the morrow to see him and tax him with wrongs 
 
 he is doing. 
 Now will I bind him with spell of my charms. But, 
 
 Luna of Heaven, 
 Shine out fair, for to thee I will sing forth, Spirit of 
 
 Stillness, 
 Eke to the Goddess of Hell, as the young whelps shiver 
 
 '.'. before her, 
 While she fareth athwart deep barrows of corpses and 
 
 dark gore. 
 Hail, dread Goddess of Hell, to the end give unto us 
 
 succour. 
 Make this nostrum of mine no weaker than nostrum of 
 
 Circ^, 
 Or of Medea, or else of the auburn-hair' d Perimed^. 
 Turn, weird wheel, drag home to myself yon man whom 
 
 I cherish. 
 
152 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Barley is first in the fire smoulder' d : nay, scatter it over, 
 Thestylis. Ah thou maiden accurst, where wander thy 
 
 fancies ? 
 Even of thee, loathsome as I am, have I come to be 
 
 laugh' d at ? 
 Scatter, and mutter the while thus : " Bones of thy 
 
 Delphis I scatter." 
 Turn, weird wheel, drag home to myself yon man whom 
 
 I cherish. 
 
 [Note. — This is the finest thing I know in Theocritus ; it is better 
 than the dialogue between Gorgo and Praxinoe. Observe the 
 beauty of the refrain. Vergil's model was Theocritus.] 
 
THE PLAINT OF CORYDON. 
 
 {From Vergil). 
 
 CORYDON, young shepherd, cherish'd well-shapen 
 Alexis, 
 Joy of his lord ; nor could he attain to the object 
 he hoped for. 
 Only among thick beechen, with tops surrounded by 
 
 shadows, 
 Care in his bosom, he came ; there, lone, these verses 
 
 unpolish'd ^ 
 
 Unto the hills and the woods with a fruitless trouble he 
 
 hurl'd forth : 
 " Ah, hard-hearted Alexis, my pipings nothing thou 
 
 reckest ? 
 Hast no pity on me ? me at last thou forcest to perish ! 
 Just now even the cattle betake them to shadows and 
 
 coolness ; 
 Just now even the green lizards lie hidden in briars; 
 Thestylis also, for reapers at noonday rapidly worn-out, 
 Doth bruise garlic and thyme, wild herbs, till they render 
 
 their fragrance ; 
 But, all harsh by my side, as I heedfully follow thy 
 
 footsteps, 
 Under the hot noonday, crickets keep droning in copses. 
 Was't not rather enough, Amaryllis' sorrowful anger, 
 Eke her superb coldness, to have suffer'd ? suffer'd 
 
 Menalcas, 
 Tho' he was dusky of body, and tho' bright-beaming thy 
 
 colour ? 
 Ah, thou youth well-shaped, be not too trustful of beauty. 
 White as they are, withbinds fall ; dark, blackberries are 
 
 gather' d. 
 
154 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Hated I am, nor of me and my state thou askest, Alexis ; 
 How rich I'm in my flocks, how flowing with plenty of 
 
 bright milk. 
 One thousand are my ewes, that rove in Sicilian 
 
 mountains ; 
 Fresh milk, neither in summer, nor winter, is unto me 
 
 wanting." 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Byron was very fond of this eclogue. Vergil's model was 
 Theocritus.] 
 
THE WEIRD HERB OF INDRANI. 
 
 (From Indrani). 
 
 HERE, from the earth I dig a herb, 
 A plant of most effectual strength, , 
 Wherewith one quells the rival wife, 
 Wherewith one gains oneself the lord. 
 
 With leaves outspread, auspicious plant- 
 Sent by the Gods, victorious. 
 Blow me the rival wife away, 
 And make my lord be mine alone. 
 
 Higher am I, O highest plant. 
 Yea, higher than the highest ones ; 
 Now she who is my rival wife. 
 Is lower than the lowest ones. 
 
 Her very name I utter not ; 
 She takes no pleasure in this man]; 
 Far off unto the farthest place 
 We cause the rival wife to go. 
 
 I am with power victorious. 
 And now a fellow- victor thou ; 
 We both, victorious become. 
 Will vanquish now the rival wife. 
 
 Thee have I gain'd for vanquisher, 
 Thee have I grasp' d with stronger spell ; 
 To meward let thy spirit speed. 
 As to the calf the cow doth run ; 
 Like downward water, let it run. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Leaving out Rajasa, who was a sort of Sappho run mad, 
 and one or two other obscure poetesses, Indrani is the first 
 great Indo-European poetess on record. Does she not remind 
 you of Theocritus ?] 
 
AGASTYA AND LOPAMUDRA. 
 
 {From the Rigveda). 
 
 (LOPAMUDRA). 
 
 FOR many autumns have I been a-toiling, 
 By night and morn,thro' dawns that find us aged ; 
 Impair'd by age is beauty of our bodies : 
 Still unto wives should they that breed go forward. 
 
 For even they who erst were law-fulfillers, 
 Who jointly with the Gods the law did utter, 
 They did decide, but they the end attain'd not : 
 Still unto wives should they that breed go forward. 
 
 (Agastya). 
 
 Not false the toil, to which the Gods show favour ;\ 
 All those who vie for envy, let us vanquish. 
 Here let us win the hundred-crafted battle. 
 Which, met as spouses, we may wage together. 
 
 (LOPAMUDRA). 
 
 Love for the pressing sage is come upon me, 
 
 Sprung hence or thence or from somewhere I know not. 
 
 (Dame Lopamudra leadeth him that breedeth ; 
 Him, wise, the dame unwise receiveth panting.) 
 
 (Agastya). 
 
 This Soma I address, which is anear us, 
 Which hath within the inmost heart been drunken ; 
 What sins we have committed, let it pardon : 
 Insooth, full many longings hath a mortal. 
 
AGASTYA AND LOPAMUDRA. 157 
 
 (Agastya, ploughing for himself with ploughshares, 
 Of children, progeny and power desirous, 
 Did foster, sage of mighty strength, both classes : 
 True blessings, at the hands of Gods, he came by.) 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— This is the earliest specimen I know of a dramatic 
 dialogue in any Aryan language. The sentiment in it is 
 the most primitive of all human sentiments, There is food for 
 thought here for psychologists of the Herbert Spencer type, 
 for moralists of the Duprat type, and for anthropologists of the 
 Tylor type.] 
 
PURURAVAS AND URVASI. 
 
 From the Rigveda). 
 
 (PURURAVAS). 
 
 HO there, my wife ! do stay, thou haughty-minded ! 
 A gentle parley let us have together. 
 Ne'er have these thoughts of ours, as yet 
 unspoken, 
 Produced us happiness in days now far-off. ^ 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 
 What may this utterance of thine avail me ? 
 Away I glode, as glides the first of Dawnings. 
 O Pururavas ! go again to homeward : 
 As hard to catch the wind, so 'tis to catch me. 
 
 (Pururavas). 
 (Referring to the occasion of their parting). 
 Like arrow sent for glory from the quiver, 
 Like courser winning cattle, winning hundreds, ^ 
 On strength unmanly seem'd to fall a lightning :^ 
 Like lambs, of crying out did think the minstrels. ^ 
 
 (Referring to her past favours). 
 She, fetching wealth and life to her lord's father,. 
 At break of dawn, from out the nearest dwelling 
 Would reach the home wherein she took her pleasure. 
 By day and night made weary with caresses. 
 
 /TTpT7'ACt\ 
 \ " /• 
 
 Thrice daily didst thou tire me with caresses, 
 And, all to my displeasure, try to sate me ; 
 O Pururavas, to thy wish I yielded : 
 So wast thou king, O hero, of my body. 
 
PURURAVAS AND URVASI 159 
 
 (PURURAVAS). 
 
 Referring to the Nymphs discovered by lightning). 
 Sujurni, Sreni too, and Sumne-api, 
 And Hradechakshus, Granthini, Charanyu, — 
 These Maids, like ruddy kine, did hasten forward '^^ 
 For glory, like to milch-cows, they did bellow. 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 (Referring to her unborn son). 
 While he was first conceived, the Dames were seated ; 
 And he was nurtured by the Rivers freely ; 
 When, Pururavas, thou for mighty battle 
 Wast nurtured by the Gods to slay the Dasyus. 
 
 (Pururavas). 
 (Referring to the Nymphs who tempted him). 
 When I these Maids, who laid aside their raiment, 
 Immortals they, myself a mortal, courted. 
 Away from me they fled like frighten'd serpents, 
 They shook with fear like steeds that touch a chariot. 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 
 When these Immortal Ones a mortal loveth. 
 And with these Nymphs, as far he can, hath converse, 
 They, like to swans, display their bodies' beauty, 
 And, like to steeds at play, they go a-nibbling. 
 
 (Pururavas). 
 (Referring to her past favours and her unborn son). 
 She, who like falling lightning flash'd forth brilliant, 
 Did bring me from the waters grateful presents. 
 From out the flood be born a strong young hero ! 
 May Urvasi prolong his life for ever ! 
 
l6o ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 
 (Aside). So wast thou born to drink the milk of heifers ! 
 (Aloud). Thou gavest me this vigour, Pururavas. 
 
 {Referring to his broken promise). 
 I wam'd thee, knowing it, that day : thou wouldst not 
 Hear me : what sayest thou, when naught avails thee ? 
 
 (Pururavas). 
 
 (Referring to the guardianship of the unborn son). 
 When will the son be born and seek his father ? 
 Like mourner, will he weep when this he knoweth ? 
 
 {Imploring her again to return). 
 Who may divide the man and wife accordant, 
 While fire is shining with thy husband's parents ? 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 
 I will console him when his tears he sheddeth : 
 Like mourner, he shall mourn for care that blesses. 
 Forth will I send thee what is thine between us. 
 Away, go home, thou fool : thou hast not won me. 
 
 (Pururavas). 
 
 Thy devotee shall fly this day for ever. 
 Unto the farthest place to go afar-off : 
 Then let him he upon Destruction's bosom, 
 Thereafter let rapacious wolves devour him. 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 
 O Pururavas, do not die, nor vanish : 
 Let not the evil-omen' d wolves assail thee. 
 There cannot be with women lasting friendship : 
 Hyenas' hearts are but the hearts of women. 
 
PURURAVAS AND URVASI. i6r 
 
 When in an alter'd shape with men I wander'd, 
 And pass'd the nights thro' autumns four among them, 
 A drop of butter once a day I tasted ; 
 And now, with even that content, I wander 
 
 (PURURAVAS). 
 
 Who fills the air and measures out the region, 
 That Urvasi I call, her best beloved : 
 Let now the gift of pious rite approach thee : 
 Turn thou to me again : my heart is burning. 
 
 (Urvasi). 
 
 Thus unto thee the Gods here speak, O Eila : 
 " Since verily thou art by death befriended. 
 Thy sons shall serve the Gods with their oblations ; 
 In heaven, even thou shalt have rejoicings.'* 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— -This is the oldest Indo-European love-story, and has 
 been immortalised by Kalidasa in his well-known play trans- 
 lated by Wilson under the name of "The Hero and the 
 Nymph." Remember Robert Browning's words : — 
 
 " Escape me ? 
 Never — 
 Beloved ! 
 While I am I, and you are you, 
 So long as the world contains us both. 
 Me the loving and you the loath, 
 While the one eludes must the other pursue."] 
 
 M 
 
YAMA AND YAMI. 
 
 (From the Rigveda). 
 
 (Yami). 
 
 OH, might I turn my friend to loving friendship ! 
 So, coming thro' the ample airy ocean, 
 Unto the father may the sage get offspring, 
 As on the earth full long a space he museth. 
 
 (Yama). 
 
 Thy friend doth not desire this loving friendship. 
 By which a kindred may become a stranger : 
 The mighty living Deity's sons, the heroes. 
 Supporters of the heavens, see far around them. 
 
 (Yami). 
 
 Desired of thee by Gods immortal this is, — 
 Yea, offspring of the sole existing mortal ; 
 O may thy spirit rest upon my spirit ; 
 Lord of thy wife, mayst thou possess her body. 
 
 (Yama). 
 
 What ne'er we did erewhile ! What is it, surely ? 
 The law we speak, and may we do the lawless ? 
 Gandharva in the floods, the Dame of Waters — 
 Such is our bond, such is our highest kinship. 
 
 (Yami). 
 
 Sure, in the womb the Maker made us consorts, 
 God Tvashtri, bringer back of life, all-shaper : 
 No one doth violate his laws unchanging : 
 'Tis known that we are his, to Earth and Heaven. 
 
YAMA AND YAMI. 163 
 
 (Yama). 
 Who knoweth of that day, the very foremost ? 
 Who hath beheld it ? Who can here declare it ? 
 Supreme is Mitra's and Varuna's statute : 
 What wilt thou say, O maid, that men be tempted ? 
 
 (Yami). 
 Love bred by Yama came upon me, Yami, 
 That we on self-same couch might lie together : 
 I, wife-like, to my lord would yield my body. 
 And we shall roll along like wheels of chariots. 
 
 (Yama). 
 They stand not stiU, they never close their eyelids, 
 Those watchmen of the Gods who near us wander : 
 With someone else than me, O maid, go quickly, 
 And with him roll along like wheels of chariots. 
 
 (Yami). 
 May nights to him, and also days, be granted 
 By Surya's eye, and may it shine forth ever. 
 In heaven and earth be there a kindred couple : 
 May Yami suffer Yama's act unkinUke. 
 
 (Yama). 
 Full surely there will come succeeding ages. 
 When kindred folk will do the act unkinlike ! 
 Stretch pillow-like thine arm for him who breedeth ; 
 Seek someone else than me, O fair, for husband. 
 
 (Yami). 
 What is a brother, when there is no husband ? 
 What is a sister, when Destruction cometh ? 
 O'ercome by Love, these many words I utter : 
 Together with my body blend thy body. 
 
i64 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 (Yam a). 
 
 I will not with thy body blend my body : 
 They call it sin when one comes near his sister : 
 With someone else than me prepare thy pleasures : 
 Of thee thy brother, fair, doth not desire this. 
 
 (Yami). 
 
 Full weak, alas ! thou art, O Yama, surely : 
 No spirit and no heart we find within thee ! 
 Another will entwine thee like a girdle, 
 And clasp thee round, as round a tree the creeper. 
 
 (Yama). 
 
 Clasp thou another, Yami, and another 
 Will clasp thee round, as round a tree the creeper 
 His spirit do thou seek, and he thy spirit ; 
 Thereafter form with him a blest alliance. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — In this hymn the morality of the early Indian rejects the- 
 very old Indo-Iranian myth of the descent of mankind from 
 primeval twins, who should be likened to the Semitic Adam 
 and Eve. "Whether it was due to biological reasons or not, 
 I do not know. Are you not reminded of Shakespeare's " Venus 
 and Adonis " ?] 
 
AMALIA. 
 
 (From Schiller). 
 
 FAIR as an angel from Walhalla*s halls, 
 Fair in midst of all the youths was he, 
 Heavenly and mild his look, as Maybeam falls, 
 Caught within the azure glass-like sea. 
 
 His kisses — ^like to Eden felt all gay ! 
 
 Like two flames together driven, like 
 Harp-tones that on each other seem to play 
 
 With the heaven-bom melody they strike — 
 
 Rush'd, flew, mix'd sprite and sprite together sent. 
 Lips and cheeks did burn and palpitate. 
 
 Soul ran to soul — and heaven and earth were blent 
 As dissolved around the lov^d mate. 
 
 He is away — ^in vain, alas ! in vain 
 Groans he now, and fearful sighs doth pass ! 
 
 He is away, and all life's bliss inane 
 Melts away in one forlorn Alas ! 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The spiritual side of Love cannot be better represented. 
 Tennyson is about as happy in his line: "Star to star vibrates 
 light ; may soul to soul," etc.] 
 
RODRIGUE. 
 
 (From Corneille). 
 
 STRUCK to the bottom of my core 
 By unexpected dint and all too deadly thrust, 
 Prone sadly to avenge a cause of quarrel just, 
 And left a hapless prey to might unjust and sore, 
 I linger motionless ; my soul, cast down and broke,, 
 Yields to the kilUng stroke. 
 So near to find my longing's recompense, 
 
 O God, the sudden pain ! 
 In this affront my father took offence, 
 The offender is the father of Chim^ne ! ' 
 
 What strife I feel, what rude alarm ! 
 Against mine honour true my love is now inclined. 
 I must avenge a sire, and lose a sweetheart kind. 
 The one doth stir my heart, the other holds mine arm. 
 Reduced to this sad choice — to violate my flame 
 Or live in bitter shame — 
 
 On either side my woe is infinite. 
 O God, the sudden pain ! 
 
 Must I an insult brook and not requite ? 
 
 Must I assail the father of Chim^ne ? 
 
 My sire, my sweetheart, honour, love. 
 Noble and hard constraint, rude bondage held so dear. 
 My pleasures aU are dead, my glory sullied here. 
 The one doth bring me woe, the other shame doth prove. 
 
RODRIGUE. 167 
 
 O dear and cruel hope of soul on honour bent, 
 
 But eke on love intent, 
 O worthy foe of my best happiness, 
 
 Sword causing me my pain. 
 Art thou employ'd mine honour to redress ? 
 Art thou employ'd to lose me my Chim^ne ? 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This extract aloae would justify the expression: "le 
 grand Corneille."] 
 
HERMIONE. 
 
 {From Racine). 
 
 WHERE am I ? What did I ? What must I do 
 again ? 
 What rapture seizes me ! What spirit-gnawing 
 pain ! 
 Aimless, and wandering, athwart these halls my gait ! 
 Alas ! can I not know, whether I love or hate ? 
 Cruel ! with what a look he left me all alone ! 
 No pity, no regret, outward at least, was shown ! 
 Him did I see wax kind, one moment feel deprest ? 
 And from him could I draw a single sob comprest ? 
 All dumb amid my sighs, all still amid my fears. 
 Did he but seem at least to share with me my tears ? 
 And I lament him yet ! and, all my woe to fill. 
 My heart, my wearied heart, takes pleasure in him still ! 
 I tremble but to think the blow for him design'd. 
 And, ready to revenge, I'm ready to be kind ! 
 No, let me not recall mine anger's verdict sore : 
 O let him die ! because he lives for me no more. 
 The traitor now exults, and at my passion jeers : 
 He thinks he'll see this storm soon melt away in tears ; 
 He trusts that, always weak, and with a heart that 
 
 Iti quakes, 
 I'll parry with one arm the blow the other makes. 
 He judges still of me by goodness in the past. 
 But nay, the traitor now hath thoughts of other cast. 
 Exulting in the shrine, he takes no thought or care. 
 If one desires his Ufe or else his death elsewhere. 
 He leaves me, thankless man, amid this struggle dark. 
 No, no, let once again Orestes do his work. 
 
HERMIONE. 169 
 
 O let him die, since he must have forseen the blow, 
 And since he forced me now at last to wish it so. . . . 
 To wish it so ? Ah what ! do I then wish it done ? 
 Shall then his death be caused by love of Hermione ? 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Does not Racine approach Shakespeare in the art of 
 probing a woman's soul ? The classical French alexandrine is 
 worth careful study, as it led Dryden to develop the heroic 
 couplet, which can be traced to Waller, but which is to be 
 distinguished from Chaucer's rimed decasyllabic verse and 
 Shelley's *♦ rimed blank verse."] 
 
THE SONG OF MONSIEUR JOURDAIN. 
 
 (From Moliere). 
 
 I THOUGHT my wee bit Jean 
 As sweet as fair of body ; 
 I thought my wee bit Jean 
 As sweet as lamb is seen. 
 Oh ! Oh ! she is a hundredfold, 
 A thousandfold more bloody 
 Than tiger in a wold. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is in the peculiar comic vein of Moliere.] 
 
THE SONG OF DON OARDENIO 
 
 {From Cervantes). 
 
 WHAT causes all my weal to wane ? 
 Disdain. 
 And what doth wax my misery ? 
 Jealousy. 
 And what is to my patience trying ? 
 
 Tis Flying. 
 So that for all my pain and crying 
 There can be found no remedy, 
 Since these extinguish Hope in me — 
 Disdain and Jealousy and Flying, 
 
 What cause to me this grief doth prove ? 
 
 'Tis Love. 
 And what withstands my pride with hate ? 
 
 Cruel Fate. ^ 
 
 And what my misery hath given ? 
 
 Tis Heaven. 
 So that thro' jealous fears I'm driven 
 To die of this peculiar ill, 
 Since these unite to pain me still — 
 My Love and cruel Fate and Heaven. 
 
 What will repair my health full well ? 
 
 Death's Spell. 
 And what in Love doth find the good ? 
 
 Fickle Mood. 
 And what doth heal its evil wholly ? 
 
 'Tis FoUy. 
 
172 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 So that it is no wisdom, solely 
 To seek to heal the wild disease, 
 When I can have the remedies — 
 Death's Spell and Fickle Mood and Folly. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is one of the typical songs in that typical work of 
 Cervantes, •• Don Quixote."] 
 
FABULLA. 
 
 {From Martial). 
 
 FULL fair thou art : I know. And maiden : truly. 
 And wealthy : who indeed can e'er deny it ? 
 But while thyself too much, FabuUa, praisest, 
 Nor wealthy, nor full fair, nor art thou maiden. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 [Note.— This is the one epigram of Martial's that I care for most. J 
 
THYRSIS. 
 
 {From Theocritus). 
 
 AH, hapless Thyrsis ! what dost thou profit by 
 moaning 
 Till both thine eyne are wetted and fretted 
 with tears ? 
 Gone is the kid, that fair youngling, gone to the hell- ^ 
 shades ; i 
 
 Truly, the jaws of the wolf, savage, have fastened on 
 ^z: her. 
 
 Now do the hounds keep baying ; but what is the gain , 
 when of that one 
 Nor bone nor cinder, gone as she now is, is left ? 
 
 August, 1908. 
 [Note. — Ab ! the sad sweet tone.] 
 
THE PENANCE OF UMA. 
 
 {From Kalidasa). 
 
 SHE past great Indra and the rest with fortunes fair, 
 The lords of all the quarters four,in proud disdain ; 
 Tho' beauty wins not him who crushed down Love 
 for e'er, 
 The Pinak-bearer for her lord she longs to gain. 
 
 A yell unbearable did turn away, of yore. 
 
 From Pura's Foe the failing head of Kama's dart : 
 
 Her inmost heart by falling off the aim it tore, 
 
 Tho' flower-arm'd Kama's form was wither'd ev'ry part. 
 
 Since then, within her father's home, on Love intent, 
 The sandal-paste on forehead making gray her hair, 
 Never the maiden would attain her full content, 
 Tho' sheets of crusted snow to He upon were there. 
 
 When she began to tell the Pinak-bearer's deeds 
 With words that slipt from throat for tear-drops flowing 
 
 on. 
 Full oft the princesses of folk with heads of steeds, 
 Companions of her woodland song, she caused to moan. 
 
 When but a third remain'd of night, then momently 
 She closed her eyes, but sat up aU at once awake ; 
 *' Whither, O Blue-neck' d, goest thou ? " — thus vacantly, 
 Her arms enwound about a neck supposed, she spake. 
 
 ** Since wise men call thee immanent in ev'ry mind. 
 Why art thou not aware I am in love with thee ? " 
 Thus, fondly with her own artistic hand outUned, 
 The God moon-crested was upbraided secretly. 
 
176 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 And when, to gain the Lord of all the world as lord, 
 No other way she could devise in thoughtful mood, 
 Then, close by us attended, at her father's word, 
 She came to make her penance in this penance-wood. 
 
 On trees, which with her hand our maiden friend did set. 
 
 The witnesses of all her penance, fruit is seen ; 
 
 Not even on the way to bud appeareth yet 
 
 Her longing for the God with crest of lunar sheen. 
 
 I wot not when that long-sought one so hard to find, 
 While friends behold her form with tear-drops shed in 
 
 vain. 
 While she is penance-worn, will to our friend be kind, 
 Like Indra to the furrow worn for lack of rain 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— This is from the epic called " The Birth of the War-God," 
 one of the most juvenile efforts of Kalidasa, who was then but 
 a strong-winded Anacreon. There is a free metrical version 
 of it by Griffith.] 
 
A LOVE-LETTER ON A LOTUS-LEAF. 
 
 (From Kalidasa), 
 
 THY heart to me is all unknown ! 
 Mine, however, Kama, daily, nightly burning, 
 — Thou unpiteous ! — ^hurries strongly on : 
 Right in thee my limbs have placed their inward 
 yearning. 
 
 [NOTB — This is taken from my translation of Kalidasa's " Sakuntala 
 and her Keepsake." There is a reference to this love-letter 
 in Michael Dutt's "Epistle from Sakuntala to Dushyanta."] 
 
 N 
 
A LOVE-LETTER IN RUNES. 
 
 LO ! to beg thee bade he who this beam did crave 
 O thou gem-decked, do remember 
 In thy wit-chamber word-promises, 
 That ye in days gone-by oft did give out, 
 While ye might do, in mead-castles : 
 " Buildings build we, on land bide we, 
 Frame we friendship." Him force did drive 
 From the bold country : he bade me now 
 Earnestly urge thee to come o'er oceans, 
 When thou wouldst hearken, on hill-summits, 
 Mournfully calling, cuckoos in woodlands. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This reminds me of the last stanza of Shelley's " Invoca- 
 tion " : 
 
 " I love Love— though he has wings, 
 And like light can flee, 
 But above all other things, 
 
 Spirit, I love thee — 
 Thou art love and life ! O come ! 
 Make once more my heart thy home ! "] 
 
THE DAMES OF THE OLDEN TIME. 
 
 {From Villon), 
 
 SAY where, or in what land, say ye, 
 Is Flora, that fair Roman dame ; 
 Hipparchia, or Thais, she 
 Whose lineage was with hers the same ; 
 Echo, who spake when voices came 
 Beyond a river or a lake, 
 Whose beauty pass'd the human frame ? — 
 But where are last year's snows awake ? 
 
 Where's Helois, wise as wise could be. 
 
 For whom, in bonds, turn'd monk for shame 
 
 Pierre Abelard at Dennis* ? — ^he 
 
 For love such troubles sore did claim ! 
 
 Likewise, where is that queen of fame, 
 
 Who caused poor Buridan to take 
 
 The Seine, cast in a sack for game ? — 
 
 But where are last year's snows awake ? 
 
 Queen Blanche, like lily fair to see. 
 Who had for voice serene her name ; 
 Berthe, Beatrice, and Alice free ; 
 And Hermengard, whose rule did tame 
 The Maine ; and Jean Dare, cast aflame 
 At Rouen in the English stake ; 
 Where are they, Virgin free from blame ? — 
 But where are last year's snows awake ? 
 
i8o ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Envoy. 
 
 Prince, ask not what of them became 
 In week or year, no queries make. 
 So thou mayst not Uke me exclaim : 
 But where are last year's snows awake ? 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— If you would know more of Villon, read the Second Series 
 of Swinburne's "Poems and Ballads." D. G. Rossetti's 
 rendering of this ballad is very good, but it does not show the 
 construction of the metre.] 
 
A 
 
 SAINT EULALIA. 
 
 GOOD young maiden was Eulalia ; 
 
 Her body fair, her soul still fairer was. 
 
 To conquer her did wish God's enemies ; , 
 
 They wish'd to make her serve the Devil's will. 
 
 She heard not those who gave her bad advice 
 
 God to deny, Who high in heaven abides. 
 
 For neither gold, nor silver, nor array. 
 
 Nor threats of kings, nor flattering words of prayer. 
 
 Nothing could ever bend her to this view : 
 
 The maid should cease to love God's service due. 
 
 For this they brought her to Maximian, 
 
 Who in those days was king o'er pagan men. 
 
 He coaxes her, what she doth never like. 
 
 That she may put the name of Christian by. 
 
 She gathers all from that her secret strength ; 
 
 She rather would sustain impediments 
 
 Than ever lose her sweet virginity ; 
 
 For that she died in mighty modesty 
 
 They cast her in the fire, to burn her quick ; 
 
 No sins she had, for that she burnt nowhit. 
 
 But this converted not the pagan lord ; 
 
 He bade her head be with a sword cut off. 
 
 The damsel ne'er this sentence did gainsay, 
 
 Content to leave the world if Christ ordain'd. 
 
 In figure of a dove to heaven she scaped. 
 
 All pray that she for us may deign to pray, 
 
 That unto us His mercy Christ may show 
 
 After our death, and let us to Him go 
 
 Thro' His own mighty kindness. 
 
 August, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Here the assonance runs oniy in coupiets ; contrast the 
 laisse of a " Chanson de Geste." The faith depicted in the 
 poem is simple, but charming.] 
 
A SONG OF SPRING. 
 
 (From the Lady of Vilanova). 
 
 WHEN Spring hath driv'n away the clouds and 
 showers, 
 And when it holds the flowering month of May 
 You open unto many poets gay 
 With joyous sense the all too pleasant flowers, 
 
 O Queen of Love, O Kindness full of might, 
 
 To you I call to find me gentle rest, 
 
 So I, with words to you in praise addrest, 
 
 Shall have the Flower that owes you birth and light. 
 
 Beneath a hallow'd Maiden's raiment neat 
 The Flower is born to save us with its smell, 
 The dulcet Flower, which, being tended well, 
 Will bring us peace that seems so very sweet. 
 
 To kiss the Flower, the spring of nobleness, 
 Will always be my highest longing here ; 
 And, if it may turn meward Heaven's ear, 
 The rudeness of my sin it will redress. 
 
 Mother of Christ, who above all are pure, 
 Give, if you please, the power of being good : 
 Drive far from us the mighty Serpent rude, 
 And show the way that leads to right full sure. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — I like the metaphor of the " Flower" applied to the Prince 
 of Peace. We can give a new meaning to Shelley's line 
 " Flowers are lovely : Love is flower-like." 
 
JUPITER. 
 
 {From Archilochus). 
 
 OJOVE, O Sire Jove, thine the mighty realm^of 
 heaven, 
 Thou lookest down upon mankind's 
 Audacious manners, and to thee the savage brute's 
 Just insolence is eke a care. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is one of the finest hymns in Greek. The conception 
 of Jove here is a moral one, the story of his numerous amours 
 being quite out of keeping with it ; consult Fairbanks* 
 •• Mythology of Greece and Rome." Archilochus is said to 
 have been the inventor of iambic verse. 
 
T 
 
 AHURA MAZDA. 
 
 (From Zoroaster). 
 
 HIS will I ask thee, tell me right, Ahura ! 
 Who was the Maker, Sire of law, the foremost ? 
 Who for the Suns and Stars did make the orbit ? 
 
 These things, O Mazda, would I know, and others. 
 September, 1908. 
 
 {Note. — The " Asura" of the Rigveda and the *• Ahura" of the 
 Avesta are the same word, meaning " God." The distinction 
 in Classical Sanskrit between a " Sura" (a God) and an "Asura" 
 (a foe of the Gods) is unhistorical.] 
 
 Whence does the Moon increase and wane except thee ? * 
 
 Hi 
 
 1 
 
THE BUDDHA. 
 
 {From Gotami), 
 
 O BUDDHA great, I bow to thee, the best of all 
 things living thou, 
 For thou from woe releasest me, and also other 
 folk enow. 
 All kinds of woe I've known and met, my thirst for 
 
 cause is dried up quite. 
 The path with eightfold foes beset hath been for me 
 
 with hindrance dight. 
 Son, mother, father, brother too, and sister, in the town 
 
 they were ; 
 Not knowing things in manner true, a worldly woman 
 
 was I e'er. 
 Seen have I now that Lord of Might, my final hope of 
 
 succour he. 
 The world of births is shatter'd quite, there is no more 
 
 rebirth for me. 
 He who his prowess did unfold, whose might is fixt for 
 
 evermore. 
 That perfect little child behold : lo ! here the Buddha I 
 
 adore. 
 Ha ! 'twas for many beings' sake, of Maya Gotama 
 
 was sprung ; 
 Whom malady and death did take, their lead of woe 
 
 away he flung. 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— The Buddha is to the Buddhist almost what the Christ 
 is to the Christian. He was the Aryan founder of a world- 
 religion, rejected by his own people, but accepted by a great 
 part of non-Aryan Asia, which even to-day outnumbers the 
 Christian world. Three of his main doctrines were trans- 
 migration of souls through worldliness, love towards all beings, 
 and extinction of bodily existence through contemplation and 
 sinless life. He lived about 500 B.C.] 
 
PRAJAPATI. 
 
 (From the Rigveda). 
 
 THE Germ of Gold was at the first in being, 
 Of all existence born the only Master ; 
 He did support the Earth and eke this Heavei 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 Who gave us breath and vigour ; whose commandment 
 All creatures ever hearken ; whose the Gods are ; 
 Whose shade is Deathlessness ; whose servant Death is. 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 Who, of the world that breathes and blinks, by prowess 
 Became Sole King, yea, of the world that moveth ; 
 Who ruleth over men and over cattle. 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 Whose all these snowy mountains are by prowess ; 
 Whose all the sea is said to be, and rivers ; 
 Whose all these ends of sky ; whose both the arms are. 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 By whom the Heavens are strong and Earth is stedfast ; 
 By whom light's realm is fixt ; by whom the sky-vault ; 
 Who in the mid-air measured out the regions. 
 What Grod with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 To whom the Heaven and Earth, by might established, 
 Lookt forward, in their inmost spirit trembling ; 
 In whom sustain 'd, the Sun doth rise and shine forth. 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 What time the mighty Waters came, containing 
 All kinds of germ, and giving birth to Agni, 
 Then was the Gods' One Vital Soul in being. 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
PRAJAPATI. 187 
 
 Who in his prowess did survey the Waters, 
 Containing Daksha, giving birth to Yajna ; 
 Who was among the Gods the Only Grodhead. 
 What God with our oblation shall we worship ? , 
 
 May he not harm us, who is Earth's begetter. 
 And who begat with soothfast law the Heavens, 
 And who begat the pleasant mighty Waters. 
 What Gk)d with our oblation shall we worship ? 
 
 O Lord of all that lives ! no one beside thee 
 All these created things hath comprehended ; 
 With what desire we worship, be that granted ; 
 May we become the lords of mighty treasure. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Is this monotheism or henotheism ? The hymn has beea 
 translated by Muir, Max Miiller, Wallis, Peterson, Scherraan, 
 Griffith and others. What God— There is an interesting dis- 
 cussion of this phrase in Macdonell's " History of Sanskrit 
 Literature."] 
 
THE WORLD-SONG. 
 
 {From Rohy Tagore). 
 
 ON Thy mighty throne in session, 
 Thou dost hearken, Sire of A11,'0, 
 In the measures of Thy moulding, 
 
 Mighty world-song rise and fall, O. 
 Earthy, unto earth a-clinging, 
 With this puny throat a-ringing, 
 Even I xmto Thy portals 
 
 Am arrived and on Thee call, O. 
 Nothing do I look for, Father, 
 
 Tis Thy sight alone I strive for, 
 I shall sing for Thee to hearken. 
 
 This is what I here arrive for. 
 Where the sun and moon are singing, 
 To that synod upward winging. 
 Seeks to sing in secret corner 
 
 This Thy loyal-hearted thrall, O. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB.— Probably the poet was inspired by the Greek conception 
 ct the " music of the spheres," which we find in Shakespeare's 
 lines : 
 " There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins."] 
 
THE CLOUD-ENVOY^ 
 
 (From Kalidasa). 
 
 A YOUTH was torn 
 full sadly from his wife, 
 
 for his task he had beguiled, 
 And lost his might 
 
 by vengeance, to be brook'd 
 
 for a year, his lord did wreak : 
 A Yaksha he : 
 
 he made, where streams are pure 
 
 thro' the bath of Janak's child. 
 Where trees are fresh 
 
 with shadows, his abode 
 
 in the shrines on Rama's peak.' 
 There, on that hill, 
 
 from tender-bosom'd wife 
 
 separated, lover proud, 
 He pass'd some months, 
 
 his wrist now left all bare 
 
 by the golden armlet flown : 
 On foremost day 
 
 of Ashadh, he beheld, 
 
 clinging to the knoll, a cloud, 
 Which did appear 
 
 like sportive elephant,^ ' 7- 
 
 butting on an earthwork, prone. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — "The Cloud-Envoy," of which the opening verses are 
 given here, is by far the finest lyric in Sanskrit literature. 
 Wilson's translation in heroic couplets gives one no idea of the 
 rhythm of the original.] 
 
A SCENE IN THE DECCAN. 
 
 (From Bhavabhuti) 
 
 IN rustling bowery cottages a row of owls 
 hoot from out the young bamboo, 
 Whose stump's full splendour renders mute the race 
 of rooks 
 
 on this Krounchavata knoll ; 
 Here peacocks fond of moving move and move about ; 
 
 quailing at their scream and coo, 
 Coil'd round the branches of the aged sandal-tree, 
 
 pot-nosed serpents upward roll. 
 These, in whose caverns mutter sputteringly the waves 
 
 of the swift Godavari, 
 Whose azure peaks are crested all with resting clouds, 
 
 are those Southern Mountains steep ; 
 With plashing roar of billows roUing with a dash 
 
 on each other rapidly, 
 All turbulent, are here those meetings of the streams, 
 hallow'd, and with waters deep^' 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— I know of no Aryan poet who beats Bhavabhuti in 
 echoing the subhme sounds of Nature. The present extract is 
 from the play called " The Later Life of Rama," which has 
 been translated by Wilson and by Tawney.] 
 
THE WOOD-NYMPH. 
 
 (From Devamuni). 
 
 NYMPH of Woods ! O Nymph of^Woods ! 
 O thou that seemest lost to view, ' • 
 Why dost thou not the village seek ? 
 No fear on thee doth seem to come ! 
 
 o 
 
 When to the shrill cicala's voice 
 Replies the swelling cricket's cry, 
 As tho* with tinkling bells she runs. 
 The Nymph of Woods doth win her praise. 
 
 And cattle seem to feed on grass, 
 And something like a house is seen, 
 And then the Nymph of Woods at eve 
 Doth seem to free the little wains. 
 
 Here one is calling to his cow, 
 Another there hath fell'd a tree, 
 The dweller in the woods at eve 
 Doth fancy he hath heard a cry. 
 
 The Nymph of Woods doth never slay, 
 Unless another goes to her : 
 When she hath eaten of sweet fruit. 
 At her own will she goes to rest. 
 
 Smelling of balm, and sweet of scent, 
 
 Replete with food, yet tilling not, 
 
 The mother of the deer I've praised, 
 
 The Nymph of Woods with praise I've called. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note.— This is almost Greek !] 
 
THE CALM OF NATURE. 
 
 {From Alcman), 
 
 5LUMBER-DR0WN'D are the tops of the hiUs, and 
 eke the gorges, 
 Jutting capes, and eke the torrents ; 
 Leaves, and creatures that creep, are asleep athwart 
 
 the dark earth ; 
 Wild deer that dwell in woods, eke the bees that wander, 
 Sea-beasts as well, whose home is breast of purple sea ; 
 Slumber-drown* d seem birds too, 
 Grouping with wings in repose. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Surely nothing can beat this *• most sleepy piece." The 
 last two lines remind one of another lyric, where Alcman, unable 
 to keep up with his choir of Spartan maidens, wishes he were an 
 old ceryl, so that the female halcyons may carry him on their wings. 
 He was so fond of calm ! There is a passage in Tennyson's *' In 
 Memoriam," where a pathetic fallacy is produced by the calm of 
 Nature. 
 
AN EASTERN SCENE. 
 (From Hugo). 
 
 w 
 
 ALL, town, 
 Port steep. 
 Death's own 
 
 Dark keep. 
 
 Gray seas 
 
 Where is 
 
 Slow breeze, 
 
 All sleep. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Compare Wordsworth : 
 
 " Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ; 
 And all that mighty heart is lying still ! "] 
 
THE CRAB AND THE SNAKE. 
 
 (From a Greek skolion). 
 
 THE Crab in this way he spake, 
 As fairly the Snake he seized : 
 " Straightforward a companion must be, 
 Must never have crooked thoughts/ 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoiB.— What a fine nursery song I Compare Blake's • • Songs of 
 Innocence."] 
 
BABY AND NURSE. 
 
 {From a Quotation by Athenaus), 
 
 4 i A 11 /HERE are my roses, and where are my 
 V V pansies, and beautiful parsley ? ** 
 
 '* Here are thy roses, and here are thy 
 pansies, and beautiful parsley." 
 
 September, 1908 
 [NoxB. — How inuch a simple thought in simple language can tisll'!)' 
 
I 
 
 THE FUNNY MAN. 
 (From Anacreon), 
 
 LOVE indeed, and do not love g 
 And I am mad, and am not mad. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. —This reflects the self-conflict that comes through satiety. It 
 is said of Anacreon that, after a long life wasted between women 
 and wine, he choked himself with a grape stone and died.] 
 
THE DREAMY MAN. 
 
 2^rom a Greek skolion), 
 
 WOULD that I were a gem serene wrought in the 
 richest gold, 
 Would that a lovely woman could carry and 
 keep me on spotless heart 
 
 (September, 1908. 
 
 [Note— There is poetry in this dreamy fancy. I know of similar 
 sentiments in Indian poetry,] 
 
THE MERRY MAN. 
 {From Stesichorus). 
 
 AND a beaker he took, 'twas a moderate flagon i&v 
 three cups, 
 And he held it and drank, then anear him did 
 Pholus dilute it and put. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 C^OSB. -^Notice the fine rhythm of this otherwise meaniog^leM 
 fragment of a drinking song.] 
 
o 
 
 THE HEAD OF A MAIDEN. 
 
 {From PraxUla). 
 
 AT the window, a-looking adown so sweetly, 
 Head of a maid !— of a maid who is now no 
 maiden ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— I wish I could use Headlam's rendering of the second line ; 
 *« Maiden head, maiden head, 
 Maidenhead no more ! "] 
 
LIFE'S THEATRE. 
 
 {From Palladas), 
 
 LLour life is a stage and a play : then learn to be 
 playful, 
 
 Put by thine earnest manner, or put up with 
 pains. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [MoTB. — What a dififerent sentiment about the world's stage is 
 Jacques's in Shakespeare's " As You Like It " !] 
 
I 
 
 CLAUDIA. 
 
 (From a Latin Epitaph). 
 
 5TRANGER ! I write but little; stand, and read it 
 thro', 
 Here is the tomb scarce beauteous of a beauteous 
 wife. 
 The name her parents called her by was Claudia. 
 Her husband she did cherish in her own true heart. 
 Two sons she fashion'd into being : one of these 
 On earth she leaves, the other under earth she lays. 
 With speech full polish'd, also with a useful gait, 
 Her home she kept, her wool she made. I've said. 
 Begone. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— All epitaph like this, perhaps, is worth more than a 
 suffrage ! Remember Cowper's linex : 
 
 *' Silent and chaste she steals along, 
 Far from the world's gay busy throng ; 
 With gentle yet prevailing force, 
 Intent upon her destined course ; 
 Graceful and useful all she does, 
 Blessing and blest where'er she goes."] 
 
HELIODORA. 
 
 (From Meleager). 
 
 WITHERS the crown that encloses the forehead of 
 Heliodora, 
 While she shines herself, she that is crown 
 of the crown. 
 Pour, and again and again and again pledge Heliodora 5 
 Pledge, with the wine-goblet mingle the name that is 
 sweet. 
 Wetted by me with the myrrh, as it was last evening 
 upon her, 
 So I may call her to mind, twine me my brow with the 
 crown. 
 Weepeth the rose love-loving, behold ! since truly her 
 "'* forehead, 
 Pillow'd, alas, somewhere else than my bosom, it 
 knows. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— A fine drinking-song I Tlie trisyllabic endings of the 
 pentameter in the original have been preserved ] 
 
M 
 
 TIMOCREON. 
 
 (From Simondes). 
 
 UCH have I eaten, and much have I drunk, nmch 
 ill have I spoken 
 'Gainst mankind, and I lie, Rhodian 
 T'lmocreon. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Observe the Athenian simplicity ! How well it describes 
 many a mortal's life ! Compare Rochester's mode epitaph 
 on Charles II.] 
 
A DEATH-SONG. 
 (From Bede). 
 
 ERE the need-journey no one may be 
 More mind-thoughtful than is meet for him. 
 To keep pondering, ere his last parting, 
 gWhat his spirit's share of good will be, 
 His death-day o'er, doom awarded. 
 
 September, 1908. | 
 
 [Note.— I almost hear the venerable Teuton fluting like a swan his 
 own death.] 
 
THE DYING SWAN. 
 
 (From Martial). 
 
 WEET are the songs he attunes with a tongue that 
 
 trembles and falters : 
 All tuneful is the swan, singing his dirges 
 
 himself. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Compare Tennyson : 
 
 " Like some full-breasted swan. 
 That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
 Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
 With swarthy webs."] 
 
o 
 
 THE DYING MAN. 
 
 From Vasishtha). ^ 
 
 NEVER — so, Varuna, speed — 
 The earthy house I'll enter, King 
 Be kind, O Ruler Good, be kind. 
 
 What time I go all tremblingly 
 Like blown-up skin, O Thunderer, 
 Be kind, O Ruler Good, be kind. 
 
 Thro' want of strength, O Powerful One^ 
 I err'd and went astray, O Pure : 
 Be kind, O Ruler Good, be kind. 
 
 As in the waters* midst I stood. 
 Thirst came upon thy worshipper : 
 Be kind, O Ruler Good, be kind. 
 
 Whatso like this, Varuna, 'gainst the heavenly host, 
 Whatever dire offence we mortal men commit, 
 Howso in thoughtlessness thy laws we violate. 
 Do not for that transgression punish us, O God. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Varuna in the Rigveda was the Moral Governor of the 
 Universe, a God of the Sky, and he became the Neptune of the 
 later Indian mythology. His worshipper here seems to be 
 suffering from an attack of dropsy, and refuses to go into the 
 grave. The old Indians sometimes buried, and sometimes 
 burnt their dead.] 
 
NACHIKETAS. 
 
 (From the Kathopanishad). 
 
 (NACHIKETAS). 
 
 THIS constant doubt about a man departed — 
 Some say he is, and others say he is not — 
 This do I wish to know of thee as teacher ; 
 Of all thy promised boons this is the third one. 
 
 (Yama). 
 
 The Gods themselves, of yore, herein had doubtings : 
 Not easy *tis to know, subtle this matter : 
 Another boon demand, O Nachiketas, 
 O do not press me, of this boon acquit me. 
 
 ^Nachiketas). 
 
 The Gods themselves, they say, herein had doubtings 
 And thou, O Death, dost say " 'Tis hard to know it " 
 And no one but thee may be found to tell it : 
 No other boon at all can equal this one. 
 
 (Yama). 
 
 Ask of me centenarian sons and grandsons, 
 Large herds and elephants and gold and horses ; 
 Ask of me wide extent of earth to bide in ; 
 And live thyself as many autumns please thee. 
 
 If of some other boon like this thou thinkest, 
 Ask that and also wealth and life long-lasting ; 
 Bide thou in mighty earth, O Nachiketas ; 
 All long*d-for things to taste at will I bid thee. 
 
208 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 What long'd-for things are hard to gain *mid mortals, 
 Ask all those long'd-for things at will and pleasure : 
 These lovely Nymphs have cars with them and tabors, 
 And such as these may not be gain'd by mortals : 
 These will I give, and do thou make them serve thee : 
 O Nachiketas, as to death enquire not. 
 
 (Nachiketas). 
 
 Day-lasting these : O Death, whatso the mortal 
 In all his senses hath of strength, they wear it : 
 Even the whole of life is but too little : 
 Thine be the cars, be thine the dance and music. 
 
 It is not wealth that may content a mortal : 
 Wealth we shall get, if only we have seen thee ; 
 And we shall live as long as thou hast power : 
 Therefore, the boon that I may ask is that one. 
 
 Gone up to those that age not and that die not, 
 Subject to age and death below, self-conscious, 
 And musing o'er the joys of love and beauty. 
 Who may delight in gaining life too lasting ? 
 
 What people thus do doubt about, O Death-God, 
 What is about the great hereafter, tell us : 
 This boon that enters deep into the secret, 
 And nothing else, doth Nachiketas ask for. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — An intense insight into life, a hankering peep beyond 
 death, an indefatigable questioning about Brahma, — such is 
 the philosophy of theUpanishads. Look up what Schopenhauer 
 says on the subject. I have not translated that part of the 
 Kathopanishad where the nature of Brahma is discussed, as 
 the reader can get a pretty good idea from Emerson's 
 "Brahma" and Swinburne's " Hertha."] 
 
THE DEATH OF BEOWULF. 
 
 4 4 'T^HOU'RT the endmost left, out of our kinsmen, 
 J, 'Mongst Wsegmundings. Took Fate away 
 All mine own men to God's order 
 Earls in their ardour. I'll be after them." 
 That was the lording's last-spoken word 
 'Mongst his breast-thoughts, ere the bale chose he, 
 Hot war-wellings : from his heart outwent 
 Soul to seek out sooth-seekers' doom. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — God's order— See the translation of " metud-sceaf te " in 
 Wyatt's " Beowulf." Endmost left— Compare Tennyson : " Sir 
 Bedivere, the last of all his peers." That word " last " !] 
 
THE LAST IAMB 
 
 (From Chenier), 
 
 AS a last ray of light, as a last breath of sky, 
 Doth cheer the close of a fair day, 
 So at the scaffold's foot my lyre again I try : 
 
 Perchance my turn will come straightway : 
 Perchance before this hour, led in a circle round, 
 
 Upon the dial bright hath put, 
 In sixty little steps with which its course is bound. 
 
 Its mellow-toned and wary foot. 
 The slumber of the tomb wiU shut mine eyelids fsist : 
 
 Ere, of the halves that form a pair. 
 This verse begun by me hath come upon the last, 
 
 Perchance within these walls worn bare 
 The messenger of death, pale ghosts' recruiter grim, 
 
 By cursed soldiers onward led, 
 A-shaking with my name these corridors long and dim, — 
 
 Where, in the crowd, lone, quickly sped, 
 I wander, sharpening these chasing darts of crime, 
 
 Too feeble props of injured truth, — 
 Is up to stop at once upon my lips the rime. 
 
 And, chaining mine arms without ruth. 
 Drag me on, gathering in crowd upon my path 
 
 My pent-up comrades looking sore. 
 Who knew me all of them before the doom of wrath. 
 
 But do not know me any more. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Quite sentimental !— but there is no harm in sentimentality, 
 if it can produce poetry like this. The wonder of it is, how 
 could a man in the face of death be so sentimental ? The lines 
 that follow the present extract show this half-Greek as a sort 
 of a Socrates dying for truth. Here we have the best iamb 
 that there is in French.] 
 
LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 {From the Countess of Blessington) 
 
 WHAT art thou, Ufe ? 
 A weary strife 
 
 Of pain and care and sorrow ; 
 Long moments of smart, 
 And pleasures — ^how short !~ 
 That fiy on the morrow. 
 
 Death, what art thou 
 
 To whom all do bow. 
 
 From the sceptred king to the slave ? 
 
 The last and best friend 
 
 All our sorrows to end, 
 
 Thine empire's in the grave. 
 
 Whenso all is fled,^ 
 Thou givest a bed, 
 Where we calmly sleep : 
 The wounds are all heal'd, 
 The dreary eyes are seal'd, 
 That long did wake and weep. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Remember Hood's lines : 
 
 " Mad from life's history. 
 Glad to death's mystery 
 Swift to be hurl'd— 
 Anywhere, anywhere 
 Out of the world ! " 
 Contrast Christina Rossetti's sentiment about life and death 
 ** Where love is, there is bliss 
 That will not pass : 
 Where love is, 
 Dies away — * Alas ! ' "] 
 
BALDER'S DREAM. 
 
 (From the Older Edda). 
 
 SOON the gods were gather'd in council, 
 And goddesses given to speeches ; 
 And hereon ponder'd powers of heaven. 
 Why fear'd Balder baleful visions. 
 
 Up rose Odin, olden father, 
 
 And on Swift-slider saddle laid he ; 
 
 Rode then down to darkening Hell, 
 
 Met the hound-whelp that from Hell did come. 
 
 He was bloody of breast shapen, 
 
 And the Spell-Father sped forth longwhile ; 
 
 On rode Odin, Earth's way trembled, 
 
 He came to the high-built Hellish stronghold. 
 
 Then rode Odin to the Orient door. 
 Where he wot the witch was lying ; 
 To the weird woman wake-spells spake he, 
 Till, driv'n to rise, dead words she spake : 
 
 " What man is this, most strange to me. 
 
 Who maketh weary worn-out spirit ? 
 
 O'er-snow'd by snow, and smit by rain. 
 
 And drench'd by dew-drift, dead was I longwhile." 
 
 Odin Spake : 
 
 ** Way-man hight I, son of War-man ; 
 Thou teach me Hell, I tell of Earth : 
 Whose be the benches strown with bangles, 
 Floors fair-looking flowing with goldwork ? " 
 
BALDER'S DREAM. ^i3 
 
 The Witch Spake ! 
 " Here's for Balder some brewed mead, 
 Shining bowl-drink shield-o'eriidded ; 
 And gods' offspring bide him gladly. 
 Need-forced spake I, now I'm silent." 
 
 Odin Spake : 
 " Silent, witchwife ! thy lore seek I, 
 Till all known be, lore I ask yet : 
 Who to Balder the bane causeth, 
 And Odin's son ousts from hfe-breath ? " 
 
 The Witch Spake : 
 " High holds Hoder heath-branch famous ; 
 He to Balder the bane causeth, 
 And Odin's son ousts from life-breath, 
 Need-forced spake I, now I'm silent." 
 
 Odin Spake : 
 " Silent, witchwife ! thy lore seek I, 
 Tin all known be, lore I ask yet : 
 Who pays Hoder heavy vengeance. 
 And Balder's bane bears forth bale-ward ? " 
 
 The Witch Spake : 
 " Rindr holds Wala in Halls Western, 
 He doth Odin's son one night carry ; 
 Hand he laves not, nor head combeth, 
 TiU bale- ward he bear Balder's foeman. 
 Need-forced spake I, now I'm silent." 
 
 Odin Spake : 
 " Silent witchwife : thy lore seek I, 
 TiU all known be, lore I ask yet : 
 Who be the maidens that moan and weep 
 And heaven-ward hold up hoods that hide them ? " 
 
*I4 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 The Witch Spake : 
 " Thou'rt no Way-man, as I weenM : 
 But art Odin, olden father ! " 
 
 Odin Spake : 
 ** Thou'rt no witchwife, nor weird woman, 
 But art triple terrors' mother ! " 
 
 The Witch Spake : 
 ", Ride home, Odin, and hence boast thou 1 
 None thus coming knows news from me, 
 Till loosed Loki leaves off fetters, 
 And direful doom dreadsome cometh." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — " Balder's Dream " had the honour of a translation by 
 Gray, who, however, missed the rhythm of the original. 
 Look up the allusions in Macdowall's " Asgard and the Gods." 
 We expect to read something fine about Balder the Beautiful 
 in the forthcoming Part V. of Frazer's "Golden Bough." 
 Odin going to the witchwife reminds me of "that Bellona's 
 bridegroom," Macbeth.] 
 
SHADOWY SHAPES. 
 
 (From Goethe), 
 
 YE come anear again, O Shapes that hover ! 
 As early ye to my dim sight did shine. 
 Shall I, this once, my hold on you recover ? 
 Feel I my heart to that deceit incline ? 
 Ye crowd more near ! Come on, so take me over, 
 As ye with mist and cloud around me twine ; 
 My bosom feels in youthful manner shaken 
 With wizard airs, by which your train's o'ertaken. 
 
 Ye bring with you my glad days' apparition. 
 And many dear-loved Shades do rise up here ; 
 All like an olden half-forgot tradition. 
 Appears First Love, with Friendship ever near 
 Now Pain returns ; Remorse with repetition 
 Doth hold Life's mazy wandering career. 
 And names the Good, which, of the moments cheery 
 By Fate deprived, fled hence to leave me dreary. 
 
 They hearken not the songs that follow fleeting, 
 The souls, to whom mine earliest songs I sang : 
 Dispersed for ever is the friendly meeting. 
 Grown faint, alas ! the earliest echoes' clang. 
 My tune is to the unknown many beating. 
 Their very clap doth work my heart a pang ; 
 And whoso else my tune with gladness flatter'd. 
 If now they live, all o'er the world are scatter'd. 
 
 And I am seized by a long-unwonted longing 
 For yonder stilly Ghost-land true and dire : 
 There sways now, in an undecided twanging. 
 My whisper'd tune, like the iEolian lyre ; 
 
2l6 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 A thrill runs thro' me, tear on tear falls thronging, 
 The strong heart feels a weakness all entire ; 
 What I possess, meseems, all widely glideth. 
 And what was fled, turns real and abideth. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — In these four stanzas we see the whole personality of 
 Goethe, Goethe who was a man of strong love and hate, 
 who stole into female hearts to rip them up and pilfered their 
 sweets to hoard them in verse. Such a character seems, in 
 our day, to be the artistic standard of Mr. Arthur Symons, 
 whose love poems are purposely made to look like glass-cases 
 in which live-caught butterflies are pinned up for show. The 
 combination of masculine and feminine endings is essential 
 to the rhythm of Goethe's " octave rime. ' ' I prefer the reading 
 "MeinLied" (my tune) to " Mein Leid " (my plaint; in St. 3, 
 1. 5. I do not understand Bayard Taylor's rendering "my 
 treasures."] 
 
LUCIFER. 
 
 {From Vondel). 
 
 YE speedy-winged Sprites, do stay our chariot now. 
 The morning-star of God at zenith lifts its brow ; 
 Its height is reach'd ; and lo ! the moment is not 
 far 
 When Lucifer must set before this rising star, 
 This double-breasted star that rises from below 
 And seeks the way above, to tarnish Heaven's glow 
 With splendour born of earth. No more should ye 
 
 entwine 
 Proud Lucifer's attire with diadems that shine. 
 Nor gild his forehead high with glory's dawning crown. 
 The morning-star, to which the Archangels kneel adown. 
 Another splendour now doth sweep into the light 
 Of God, whose radiance doth drown our vaunted might, 
 As to the eyes of man, on earth below, the sun 
 By day puts out the stars. The shades of night so dun 
 Bedim the Suns of Heaven and Angels of the Sky : 
 For, Man hath won himself the heart of the Most High, 
 Within his Paradise created fair of late. 
 He is the friend of Heaven. Our wretched servile state 
 Doth even now begin. Go hence, rejoice, and now 
 Serve, honour this new race, like slaves in act to bow. 
 For God came Man to be, and we for him were made. 
 Let then the Angels bend their bright necks to be laid 
 Beneath his feet. Let each his biddings now await, 
 And bear him even to the highest Thrones in state 
 On hands or wings ; for now the portion to us given 
 Shall pass to him who is the chosen son of Heaven. 
 We, the first-born, shall brook within this Realm our 
 
 plight. 
 
2i8 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 The son, bom on that day, the sixth, and shapen quite 
 In likeness of the Sire, shall win himself the crown. 
 And right and meet it was, to him was handed down i 
 The mighty sceptre-staff, which in its might shall make 
 Us even, the first-bom, to tremble and to shake. 
 No contradiction here now holds : ye heard it told, 
 When Gabriel's trumpet spake right at the gate of gold. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTT. — Did Milton imitate Vondel ? or did they live in the same 
 atmosphere ?] 
 
SATAN. 
 
 (From the so-called Cadmon). 
 
 THEN spake the arrogant monarch, once of angels 
 brightest, 
 Whitest in heaven, and to his Househead dear, 
 Lord's beloved, till they sinn'd lightly. 
 And for the great madness God even grew 
 Mightily mind-wroth, cast him amidst that ruin, 
 Down into the death-bed, and shaped him a dreaded 
 
 title. 
 Quoth the highest should be called 
 Satan since then, bade him in the swarthy hell-pit ' 
 Bide in the bottom, not with God to battle. 
 Satan spake out, sorrowing said. 
 For he henceforth must hold the hell-pit, 
 Bide in the bottom — once God's bode he, 
 White in heaven, till his heart did urge, 
 And his arrogance most of all things. 
 That he would not work the Host-Lord's 
 Word worthily. Well'd within him 
 Heart-pride haughty, hot was without him 
 Woful wrath-doom ; these words he spake : 
 *' This narrow place is not at all like 
 That other which we knew erewhile. 
 High in heaven-land, which to me my Househead gave, 
 Tho' we for the All-Ruler must not own it. 
 Rule over our realm. Yet he hath not acted right, 
 As he hath fell'd us fire-ward to the bottom, 
 Here in hot hell, robb'd of heaven-land, 
 Hath it mark'd out for man's offspring 
 To be set in it. It is my sorest woe, 
 
220 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 That Adam shall, who of earth was wrought. 
 
 Of my strong-shapen stool be owner, 
 
 Dwell in my dwelling, and we this dole shall suffer. 
 
 Harm in this hell-pit. Woe ! woe ! had I power of hand. 
 
 And might only once get me out hence, 
 
 Bide one winter season, then with this band I — 
 
 But lie about me bonds of iron, 
 
 Rides me fettering rope. I am reft of realm : 
 
 Hard am I held by hellish fetters. 
 
 Firmly fasten'd. Here is fire mighty 
 
 Over and imder : not once I saw 
 
 Loathlier landscape : flames are allay'd not, 
 
 Hot over hell-pit, I am held by rings, 
 
 Rough-harden'd rope, robb'd of motion, 
 
 Deprived of my footfall ; fasten'd my feet are, 
 
 Hands are hinder'd ; to the hell-portals 
 
 Ways are wall'd up ; so not a whit I may 
 
 Doff this limb-fetter. Lie about me. 
 
 Hard of iron, hotly hammer'd. 
 
 Grates gigantic : therewith God hath me 
 
 Held in a halter." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Was Milton indebted to the so-called Caedmon ? See 
 Cook's " Milton and Caedmon."] 
 
THE WHALE. 
 
 NOW I tell again the fish-kind's tale. 
 I'll in song-fashion give out the story, 
 Thro' thought of mind, of the mighty whale. 
 Which is adversely often met with, 
 Fearful and fierce to frith-wanderers, 
 Creatures each one, which is call'd by name 
 Frith-stream-floater, Fastitocalon. 
 It is rugged like rough-shaped rock-stone, 
 Such as roveth by rim of ocean, 
 Sand-hills about it, sea-islets' chief : 
 So that they ween it, wave-wanderers, 
 To be some isle that they eye and gaze at, 
 And then they fasten full-prow' d vessels 
 To the false isle with anchor-cordage. 
 Settle the sea-horses right at the sea-end, 
 And then to the island up they clamber, 
 Bold of spirit : stand the vessels. 
 By the shore fastened, stream-encircled : 
 Then they encamp thereon, care-beladen, 
 Frith-wanderers, — fear they dream not — 
 On that false isle : flames they waken. 
 High fire kindle : hearty the men are, 
 Spirit-laden, loving quiet. 
 
222 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 When it feeleth, skill' d in falsehood, 
 
 That on it the sea-farers firmly settle, 
 
 Make mansion, mad with the weather. 
 
 Then suddenly in salty wave 
 
 With the shipping downward slideth 
 
 Grim ocean's guest, goes to the bottom. 
 
 And then in death's mansion drowns and fastens 
 
 Ships with sailors. Such are shadows' ways. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Compare this extract with the description of the sea-beast 
 Leviathan in " Paradise Lost," Bk, I. The reader will find an 
 antiquated translation of the rest of the poem in Thorpe.] 
 
THE ODYSSEY, BK. I., LL. i-io. 
 
 ^From Homer). 
 
 TELL me, O Muse, of the man much-travell'd, who 
 very widely 
 Wander' d, after he left Troy's hallow'd city 
 forwasted ; 
 Cities of many a folk saw he, knew also the manners ; 
 Many a sorrow at sea bore he in his innermost spirit, 
 Trying his own live soul to secure, and return of his 
 
 fellows. 
 Ne'er was he able his fellows to save, tho' mighty his 
 
 care was ; 
 Since it was they themselves for a self-made folly did 
 
 perish. 
 Acting without forethought, for the oxen of Sol H5rperion 
 They did devour, while he cut off their day of returning. 
 These things partly, O Goddess, O Daughter of Jupiter, 
 tell us. 
 
 September, igo8. 
 
 [Note.— The meaning of iroXvTpoirQV is " much-travelled." and 
 not •♦ of many devices or shifts " ; see Merry's " Odyssey." 
 Ulysses is a far nobler character in Homer than in the 
 Athenian tragedy. I have preserved the Greek rhythm in 1. 6. 
 It is hard to render koX in eiire Koi rjfiLV ; see Merry's 
 "Odyssey."] 
 
WIDSITH. 
 
 WIDSITH spake out, word-stores unlock'd, 
 He who met with most marvels the world o'er, 
 Travell'd thro' peoples. Oft he took in hall 
 Memorable treasure. Him 'mongst Myrgings 
 Ethelings nourish'd. He with Ealhhild the 
 True treaty-maker, travelling the first time, 
 Reach'd the home of Hreths' autocrat. 
 East of Ongle, Eormanric the 
 Fierce faith-breaker. Then gan he speak fully : 
 " Much have I heard of men holding nations. 
 Each ruler must reign by usage, 
 Each one like others own the country, 
 Who in his royal throne would thrive always." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Widsith means "the Far-farer," and reminds one of 
 Ulysses.] 
 
THE SEAFARER. 
 
 I OF myself can sing a true-song, 
 Tell my travels, how I in days toilsome 
 Hours of hardship oft suffered, 
 Bitter breast-care bore within me, 
 On keel did come by care-dwellings many, 
 Horrid hurl of waves. I had oft to hold 
 Noisome night-watch at nodding ship-prow, 
 As on cliffs 'twas knocking, cold-o'ertaken 
 Both my feet were frost-enfetter'd. 
 Cold-encumber' d ; then cares were heaving 
 Hotly my heart thro' ; hunger in me tore 
 Sea- wearied sprite. This he doth not see. 
 To whom earth's fortune fairly fioweth. 
 How I all- weary o'er ice-cold sea 
 Waited a winter, wretched exile. 
 Cast away from joyful comrades, 
 And hung by icicles : hail-showers Iflew. 
 Nothing I hearken'd but howling sea. 
 Cold-frozen waves, sometimes clamouring swans 
 Sought I for beguilement gannets' warble. 
 And sea-gulls' lays for human laughter, 
 Mews' chirrupings for mead-potion. 
 
 
 
226 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Storms were on stone-cliffs beating, thereto terns replied. 
 
 Icy-feathered ; full oft the eagle scream'd. 
 
 Dewy-feathered. Not a dear kinsman 
 
 Might console my desolate soul. 
 
 This he believeth little, who hath joys of life, 
 
 Expecteth in cities sufferings slight, 
 
 Wild and wine-flush'd, how a-weary oft 
 
 On|the sea-alley I'd to stay up. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Good old English sailor! Only the tone is a bit too sad: 
 contrast the merry note in Cunningham's poem : •• A wet sheet 
 and a flowing sea,"] 
 
THE WANDERER. 
 
 STILL the lone one looketh for favour, 
 Mercy of the Maker, tho' mind-weary 
 Thro' the lake-alley long he must b€ 
 Hustling with hand-push hoar-frozen seas. 
 Treading tracks lonesome : Fate he may entreat not ! 
 Thus said a rover, mindful of sorrows. 
 Direful death-battles, downfall of comrades : 
 " Oft by me must I, ev'ry morning, 
 My sorrows sob out : there's no soul alive. 
 Whom I my mind-musings may with boldness 
 TeU all clearly. In truth I know, 
 For man it is morally meet. 
 That he his breast-chamber bind up firmly, 
 Hold his heart-closet, whatso he think of. 
 Nor may the weary-soul'd war with Fortune, 
 Nor may the sad spirit find out succour ; 
 So do fame-seekers fieriest thoughts 
 In their breast-closets bind up firmly. 
 So I my mind-musings must now master, — 
 Oft o'er-wearied, ousted from country. 
 From friends afar ! — bind them in fetters, 
 For of yore my good gold-bestower 
 Earth ate up in gloom, and I all abject 
 Went winter-weary over waters in chains. 
 Sought thy drear castle, dealer of treasure, 
 Where far or near haply to find him 
 Who the mead-castle might remember. 
 Or to me comradeless offer comfort, 
 
228 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST 
 
 Keep me with kindness. Knows he who feeleth 
 How direful is dole as a fellow, 
 When but few are the friendly patrons : 
 Winneth he exile, not well-wrought gold, 
 Frost in the bosom, not fruit of earth ; 
 Remembers the hall-waiters and wealth-winnings, 
 How in glad manhood his gold-giver 
 Bade him to banquet : bliss all is gone ! " 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 I Note.— Does it not remind you of Lamb's " Old Familiar Faces ' 
 and of Moore's " Light of Other Days " ?] 
 
THE WIFE'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 I THIS song render, of me all sorrowful, 
 Of my self -seen fate : this may I say, 
 Whatso woes I brook'd, since I wax*d in age. 
 New or old ones, none more than now ! 
 Ah, I endure the doom of my dire exile ! 
 Erst my husband went, hence from the people, 
 Over madding waves. I mused daily, 
 Where my lord-lover*s land was lying. 
 Then I fared and went, followed to seek him, 
 Wretched exile for my woe-hardship : 
 Began that fellow's friends to be planning, 
 Thro' vicious thought, to divide us twain, 
 So we most widely in the world-kingdom 
 Lived loathliest, and I long'd inly. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 |NOTE. — There is a true Teutonic ring in this exquisite love-plaint. 
 Contrast the joyous note in Elizabeth Barrett Browning's lines ; 
 
 ♦' The widest land 
 Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine 
 With pulses that beat double."] 
 
ACHILLES AND CHRYSES. 
 
 (From Homer). 
 
 O did he speak : and in dread did the old man suffer 
 his orders, 
 
 Went, and was mute, by the brim of the loud 
 long-bellowing ocean. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The old man — The strict sense of o yipcav is " he, the 
 old man," as Leaf and Bayfield say; but that rendeiing is incon- 
 venient in the present context. I am not sure that my ren- 
 dering of fhe second line has all that there is in Homer's line: 
 firj S' d/ceatv irapa diva 7ro\v(f>\oia^oLo QoKatrar]^. 
 Notice the effect of the opening monosyllable cut off from the 
 rest of the line ; a favourite devise with Tennyson.*'] 
 
VARUNA AND VASISHTHA. 
 
 {From Vasishtha). 
 
 WHEN with Varuna I did mount the vessel, 
 When forward we did urge the midmost oceaa. 
 When o'er the waves with barges we did 
 wander, 
 We swung together in the swing full beauteous. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 gNoTE. — The friendship between the God Varuna aad his 
 worshipper the sage Vasishtha is one of the charming 
 pictures in the Rigveda. In this verse there is an allusion to 
 their boating excursion on the sea.] 
 
INDIA FROM THE INDIAN OCEAN. 
 
 {From Kalidasa). 
 
 FROM far, as on a wheel of iron, slender, 
 All blue with tamarisks and palms extended, 
 Outshines the briny ocean's margin yonder, 
 Like streak of rust-mark with the wheel-rim blended. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 £NoT«.— Notice the idea of level expanse given by long vowels 
 and liquid consonants reproduced from the original, which is 
 a remarkable piece.] 
 
THE EARTH FROM A DESCENDING 
 SKY- WAIN. 
 
 {From Kalidasa). 
 
 THE earth, it seems, is climbing down from tops 
 of hiUs 
 
 swimming upward to the sight ; 
 The state of lying in the midst of leaves, is left, 
 with the rise of trunks, by trees ; 
 Expanding, tho' their waves were lost in narrowness, 
 
 rivers slowly come to light ; 
 By someone tost-up as it were, behold, the world 
 to my side is brought with ease. 
 
 (Translated January, 1908). 
 
 [Note. — The relativity of motion cannot be better represented. 
 A balloonist or an air-sailor will appreciate this passage. This 
 is taken from my translation of Kalidasa's " Sakuntala and 
 her Keepsake."] 
 
THE PASSING SCENERY FROM A SWIFT 
 CAR. 
 
 (From Kalidasa). 
 
 WHAT unto sight is small, 
 suddenly appears to be of mighty size ; 
 What's in the middle cleft, 
 
 seems as tho' it were all seamless and all one ; 
 What's by its nature bent, ^;^'iv ,.- 
 
 even that is wholly straight-shaped to mine 
 eyes ; 
 To me is naught afar, 
 
 nor is naught anear awhile, so swift we run ! 
 
 (Translated November, 1907). 
 
 [Note. — The optical illusion in swift motion cannot be better 
 described. This is taken from my translation of Kalidasa*s 
 " Sakuntala and her Keepsake." I am strongly reminded of Mr. 
 A. C. Benson's description of the sensation of speeding through 
 an English landscape in a railway train : 
 
 " We fly on iron wheels, and mark 
 The changing glade. 
 Northward the shuddering axles reel 
 
 With merry din ; 
 Like moving spokes on some slow wheel 
 
 The furrows spin. 
 The copse, ihe farmstead shifts ; and both 
 
 Fly like the wind. 
 Swift runs the distant spire, as loth 
 To lag behind." 
 
DUSHYANTA AND THE DEER. 
 
 (From Kalidasq). 
 
 BEAUTIFUL with neck fuU-bent, 
 oft and oft his eager eye 
 
 casting on the chasing car ; 
 With the hind-half entering, 
 
 in the fear of falUng shafts, 
 
 thro' his fore-frame all amain ; 
 With the half-chew'd turf, that sUps 
 from his mouth agape with toil, 
 strewing all his way afar ; 
 Lo ! with lofty-leaping speed, 
 
 in the air he fareth most, 
 
 little fareth on the plain. 
 
 (Translated November, 1907) 
 
 [Note.— Notice the deep insight into animal psychology. How 
 the deer acts under fear ! This is taken from my translation 
 of Kalidasa's " Sakuntala and her Keepsake."] 
 
DUSHYANTA AND THE STEEDS. 
 
 {From Kalidasa). 
 
 THEIR reins all loosen'd now, their fore-frames to 
 the full outspread, 
 AU still their yak- tail crests, their ears all motion- 
 less — upright. 
 Not even by the dust, which they themselves upraise, 
 
 outfled, 
 They run, yon chariot-team, in envy of the deer's quick 
 flight. 
 
 (Translated November, 1907) 
 
 [Note. — The idea in the third line is inimitable. This is taken 
 from my translation of Kalidasa's " Sakuntala and her 
 Keepsake."] 
 
NANDIN IN THE PENANCE-WOOD OF 
 SIVA. 
 
 {From Kalidasa), 
 
 NO stir on trees ; bees did not hum nor hover ; 
 Dumb grew the fowl ; and calm the deer did 
 wander : 
 He held his ruling rod : the wood all over, 
 As in a picture placed, stood still thereunder. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTK.— Ah, •• the inviolable quietness " ! Does it not remind yott 
 of Alcman ?] 
 
RAMA'S BRIDGE. 
 
 (From Kalidasa). 
 
 VEIDEHI, see, near Malay deft asunder 
 By this my bridge, the mass of waves foam- 
 ^||whitening, 
 As, by the milky way, with Autumn's splendour. 
 The sky is cleft, displaying stars all brightening. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— This quatrain should be considered when we discuss the 
 question of Kalidasa's authorship of the Prakrit epic called 
 •• Tht Building of the Bridge."} 
 
BEOWULF'S VOYAGE. 
 
 (From ''Beowulf*'). 
 
 THEN went over the water, wind-impell'd, the 
 Fleet all foam-neck' d, almost fowl-like, 
 Till about one hour on the morrow, 
 She the prow-curved had pass'd forward. 
 So the sea-f arers saw where land was. 
 Sea-cliffs shining, steepy mountains, 
 Wide sea-noses ; then was the earl's sailing 
 Ended over ocean. Then at once up the 
 Weder people to the plain clamber'd, 
 Fasten'd the sea-wood ; sarks th6y put off, 
 Gear of battle ; God they glorified. 
 As their wave-faring was so easy. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — A sweet foretaste of Swinburne's sea-songs ! I get a pufif 
 of foam on my face when I read the original. Homer would 
 not have been ashamed of such lines.] 
 
GNATS. 
 {From Cyncwulf). 
 
 THIS air beareth little beings 
 Over mound-summits. They are most dusky, 
 Swarthy, sallow-coated, sweet of warble ; 
 Swarming go they, sound they loudly. 
 Tread the bowery nesses, sometimes burgh-castles 
 Kept by mortals. Call them yourselves. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — " There can be no doubt as to the authorship of the riddles 
 of the Exeter Book, the first of them being a riddle on the 
 name Cynewulf itself. Many of these riddles are true poems, 
 containing beautiful descriptions of nature, and all of them 
 show Cynewulf's charm and grace of language." — Sweet.} 
 
THE VICTORY OF PSAUMIS. 
 
 (From Pindar). 
 
 (Strophe). 
 
 O DRIVER uppermost of thunder with a foot 
 untiring, Jove ! — for thine the Hours are 
 Who these mine odes of ever-veering measure 
 in a lightsome round led forward 
 To attest the highest prizes' glory. 
 When friends gain good success, 
 
 the joy at once of hearing the news, 
 So sweet, doth thrill the noble. 
 But, son of Saturn, who dost Etna hold, 
 Laying a crushing burden upon the hundred heads of 
 
 Typhon fuU of might, 
 Take kindly this Olympic game, 
 For the Graces' sake, this joyous revel, 
 
 (Antistrophe), 
 
 A lasting light that f adeth not of virtues eminent : for 
 
 Psaumis' triumph cometh 
 A-driving, who, enwreathed with crown of olives 
 
 brought from Pisa, seeks — bestir thee !— 
 Camarina's glory. God be kindly 
 Unto his latest prayers, 
 
 since I approve of him very much 
 Prepared to tend his horses, 
 And ever greeting guests of every sort. 
 And unto city-loving quietude with a spotless judgment 
 
 still inclined. 
 Not with a lie stain I my speech, 
 *Tis experiment that testeth mortals. 
 
342 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 (Epode). 
 By it Clymenus's offspring 
 From gather'd Lemnian ladies' 
 Disdainful words was wholly freed. 
 All in a brazen coat of mail he won the race ; 
 To Hypsipele he shouted, 
 
 going forward to the crown : 
 " Such now am I for swiftness' sake, 
 In might of hand and heart alike. 
 So, there grow upon the heads of youthful men 
 Snowy locks full oft, ere yet the age of manhood comes 
 In right and proper time." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— See the analysis of the metre of the 4th Olympic, which 
 is here translated, in Donaldson's " Pindar." Pindar is 
 scarcely beaten by Vergil in the Aeneid, Book V. Racing and 
 running were among the oldest Aryan games, as we find refer- 
 ences to them even in the Rigveda.] 
 
THE VICTORY OF SUDAS 
 
 (From Vasishtha). 
 
 (Vasishtha). 
 
 TO you, O Leaders, looking out for friendship kind. 
 Forth went the booty-seekers arm'd with axes 
 broad : 
 Our Dasa foes ye slew, our Aryan foes as well ; 
 Sudas ye, Indra and Varuna, help'd with help. 
 
 Where heroes meet together with uplifted flags. 
 In that encounter in which there is nothing good, 
 Where terror strikes the world and those that see the 
 
 light, 
 There to us, Indra and Varuna, spake ye kind, 
 
 (Sudas). \'^lf/ 
 The limits of the earth all dusky did appear ; 
 O Indra and Varuna, heavenward rose the noise ; 
 There stood the people's enemies about me all ; 
 Thither with help, O hearers of my call, ye came. 
 
 (Vasishtha). 
 O Indra and Varuna, with resistless darts 
 Ye smote down Bheda and ye gave Sudas your tielp ; 
 The prayers of these ye heard amid the cries of war ; 
 Effectual was my service as the Tritsus' priest. 
 
 (Sudas). 
 O Indra and Varuna, I am sore beset 
 By wiles of foes, by mine assailants' acts of feud : 
 Ye twain, indeed, are lords o'er twofold wealth to rule : 
 So let us have your help upon the day supreme. 
 
 (Vasishtha). 
 To you did call the hosts of both the tribes in war, 
 To Indra, and Varuna too, to win them wealth, 
 
244 If ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Where, by the Ten Kings sorely press' d in dire attack. 
 Ye help'd Sudas, together with the Tritsus all. 
 The Ten Kings leagued together, offering no rites, 
 O Indra and Varuna, could not fight Sudas ; 
 True was the praise of heroes sitting at the feast ; 
 The Gods appear' d upon their calling on the Gods. 
 
 As in the Ten Kings' Battle he was press'd all round, 
 Sudas, O Indra and Varuna, got your strength. 
 Where, clad in white, with homage true, with braided 
 
 hair, 
 With prayers, all pious, knelt adown the Tritsus all. 
 
 The foes by one of you are in the battles slain, 
 
 The laws are by the other kept for evermore ; 
 
 We call on you, O bounteous Ones, with right good 
 
 hymns ; 
 To us, O Indra and Varuna, shelter grant. 
 
 To us Varuna, Indra, Mitra, Aryaman 
 Grant glory, mighty shelter spreading far and wide 
 The quenchless light of right-increasing Aditi, 
 The song of Savitri the God, we meditate. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. —This is one of the finest historic hymns in the Rigveda. It 
 shows the combination of a war-like spiiit and a religious mood, 
 which is characteristically Indian; witness the Rajputs, the 
 Sikhs, the Marhattas and others of later history. Matthew 
 Arnold's lines : — 
 
 " She let the legions thunder past 
 And plunged in thought again," 
 and Mr. Stephen Phillips's line : 
 
 " And India in meditation plunged," 
 require modification. The first stanza of the hymn reminds one 
 of Mr. Henry Newbolt's lines : 
 " Laden with the spoil of the South, fulfilled with the glory of 
 
 achievement." 
 The general tone is that of Rudyard Kipling's lines : 
 *' Jehovah of tlie Thunders, 
 Lord God of Battles, aid ! " 
 
BRUCE AND THE THREE MEN WHO 
 SWORE HIS DEATH. 
 
 {From Barbour). 
 
 THEY did wait until he was 
 Come within a narrow pass, 
 Between a hillside and a lake. 
 It was so straight, I undertake. 
 That well he could not turn his horse. 
 Then unto him they went full force : 
 One held him by the bridal close, 
 But Bruce did reach to him such blows 
 That off his arm and shoulder shook. 
 Thereon him another took 
 By the leg ; his hand did shoot 
 Between the stirrup and the foot ; 
 And when the King felt there his hand, 
 On stirrups straight up did de stand. 
 And struck with spurs the veering steed, 
 And forward hurl'd his lance with heed, 
 So that the ruffian could not get 
 At his foot : his hand was yet 
 Under the stirrup, spite of Bruce. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note. — Barbour was the earliest forerunner of Scott. j 
 
THE BATTLE OF MALDON. 
 
 WENT the war-wolves, of water they reck'd not, 
 Wikings* war-band, west over Panta, 
 Over the sheen water shields they carried. 
 Seamen to landward bore the limewood. 
 There against foemen full-arm' d stood up 
 Byrhtnoth with warriors ; he with bucklers bade 
 Soon to be built board-walls, and the band battled 
 Fast with the foemen. Then the fight was near, 
 Credit in combat ; the time came on, 
 When the fated men should be falling. 
 There rose a rattle, wheel' d the ravens, 
 Eagles eager for food : there was on earth a cry. 
 From hands they hurl'd forth hard-filed lances, 
 And well-whetted arrows went off ; 
 Bows were busy, board met with spear, 
 Fierce was the fighting, fell the fighters 
 On either side, sank the soldiers. 
 
THE BATTLE OF MALDON. 247 
 
 Wounded was Wulfmaer, war-bed he chose 
 
 Byrhtnoth's kin ; with a blade was he, 
 
 Son of his sister, swiftly cut off ; 
 
 But on the Wikings was wreck'd a vengance : . 
 
 I heard that Edward struck at one man 
 
 •Strongly with his sword-blade, strokes he withheld not 
 
 Till at his feet he fell, fated warrior ; 
 
 For this his master much did thank him, 
 
 The bower-keeper, when brought was leisure. 
 
 So stood stoutly strong-spirited 
 
 Soldiers in struggle, strove intently 
 
 Who would be earliest able with blade-point 
 
 The luckless men's lives to get at. 
 
 Gash with weapons : gore fell on ground. 
 
 Stood they stedfast, Byrhtnoth stirr'd them, 
 
 Bade the men each one mind the batle. 
 
 On the Danes would he deal destruction 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoT'. — Whoever wrote this battle-piece was a worthy pre^ 
 decessor of Campbell. Remember specially the " Battle of 
 the Baltic," which begins with " Of Nelson and the North."] 
 
THE PUNIC WARS, BK. I., LL. 1-16. 
 
 {From Silius Italicus). 
 
 TREAT I of arms, wherewith upsoar to the heavens 
 in glory 
 Eneas' offspring, and the laws (Enotrian savage 
 Carthage brooks. Give, Muse, to recount toils glorious 
 
 suffer'd 
 Erst by the land of the Eve ; what heroes were fashioned 
 
 in battle, 
 Eke how many, by Rome, when, to haUow'd treaty 
 
 unfaithful, 
 Cadmus' people upon our empire levied a combat ; 
 Long was it doubtful, upon which citadel finally might 
 
 rest 
 All Earth's Fortune her head. Three times with a battle 
 
 untoward 
 Compacts sworn in the honour of Jove and the treaties 
 
 of Fathers 
 Sidon's leaders did break ; and the sword that was ever 
 
 ungodly 
 Thrice caused peace that was made to be broken in foUy 
 
 and rashness. 
 
THE PUNIC WARS, BK. I., LL. i— 16. 249 
 
 But, in the midst of the war, for a dose and a pillage 
 
 alternate 
 Both peoples made plans, and were both on the margin of 
 
 peril, 
 Which to be topp'd was allow'd ; and the Dardan leader 
 
 uprooted 
 Towns by Agenor uprear'd ; and the courts were 
 
 beleaguer'd with ramparts, 
 Punic courts ; and with walls Rome gain'd and protected 
 
 her safety. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Silius Italicus, like Statius, based his whole poetical art 
 on Vergil.] 
 
.iPHARSALIA, BK. I,, LL. 1-14. 
 {From Lucan). 
 
 WARS on Emathian plains, those wars more 
 dreaded than civil, 
 Licence given to crime, do I sing, and a puissant 
 people ' 
 
 Turning against its own vitals with a conquering right- 
 hand, 
 Kindred armies engaged, and, the realm's pact broken 
 
 asunder, 
 Contests waged with the might of the stirr'd globe 
 
 gather'd together 
 All for the sorrow of all, and the standards bitterly 
 
 meeting -^ f^ ' "^M^ 
 
 Standards, eagles alike, and the war-darts threatening 
 
 war-darts. 
 What rage, this, citizens, what lawless fury of combat, 
 While ye had nations to hate, to be bent on Latian 
 
 bloodshed ? 
 While ye had Babylon proud to despoil of her trophies 
 
 for ever. 
 Trophies Itahan, and while Crassus' shade wander'd 
 
 unsated. 
 Wars did it please you to wage, such wars as would 
 
 bring you no triumphs ? : 
 Ah ! how much of the earth and the ocean we might 
 
 have provided 
 All with the self-same blood that the hands of the 
 
 citizens shed forth ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTK.— Lucan was the poet of liberty and a mourner for the lost 
 Republic] 
 
ROLAND THE MAD, CANTO I., STT, 
 1-4. 
 
 {From Ariosto). 
 
 LADIES, and knights, and arms, and courtesies 
 Of love, and deeds of bold emprise, I sing 
 That happ'd in days when, passing overseas, 
 The Moors from Afric woes to France did bring, 
 Following the rage and youthful extasies 
 Of Agramant their King, who, glor5dng, 
 Proceeded to avenge Troyano slain 
 Upon King Charles the Roman suzerain. 
 
 I'll tell of Roland in the self-same strain 
 Things unattempted yet in prose or rime, 
 When Love o'ercame with rage and madness vain, 
 A man esteem' d so wise in former time ; 
 If she, who in such wise doth o'er me reign 
 That my small wit doth hourly waste my prime. 
 Will on that score allow me that much skil 
 Which doth suffice my promise to fulfil. 
 
 So please you, Hercules' most noble son, 
 You who adorn our age and make it glow, 
 Hippolytus, to take this which alone 
 I'U give you as I can, your servant low. 
 Tho' much I owe you, I can pay that loan 
 In part with words and what in ink may flow 
 To give you little I do not appear. 
 For, all that I can give I give you here. 
 
 Me shall you hear, amid the worthiest. 
 Whom I to name with fittest praise prepare. 
 Record Rogero great, the earliest 
 Root of you and your sires of glory fair ; 
 
252 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 His lofty worth and valour doughtiest 
 I'll make you hearken if you lend your ear, 
 And your high thoughts may yield a little space 
 So that thro' them my verse may gain its place 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — ^The first two lines sum up the epic of Ariosto. He had 
 a considerable influence on Spenser, whose theme was the 
 same as his, and whose stanza called the Spenserian Stanaz 
 was an improvement on the ottava riraa in which he wrote.] 
 
GLORIANA. 
 
 (From Spenser). 
 
 LO ! I, whose Muse erewhile assumed the mask, 
 As taught by time, of lowly shepherds' weeds, 
 Am now compell'd — a much unmeet er task — 
 For trumpets stern to change mine oaten reeds. 
 And sing of knights' and ladies' gentle deeds ; 
 Whose glory, having slept in silence long. 
 Me, all too mean, the Muse's bidding leads 
 To blazen far amongst her learned throng : 
 Fierce wars and faithful loves shall be my theme of song 
 
 Help then, O holy virgin ! chief of nine. 
 
 Thy novice all too weak to work thy will ; 
 
 Lay from that everlasting desk of thine 
 
 The volumes old, which there lie hidden still, 
 
 Of fairy knights and fairest Tanaquil, 
 
 Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long 
 
 Sought thro' the world, and suffer' d so much ill, 
 
 That I must rue his undeserved wrong : 
 
 O help thou my weak wit, and sharpen my dull tongue. 
 
 And thou, O child revered of Jove on high, 
 
 Fair Venus' son, thou who thine arrow dire 
 
 At that good knight so skilfully didst ply 
 
 That in his heart it kindled glorious fire ; 
 
 Lay now thy ebon bow of deadly ire. 
 
 And with thy mother mild come to mine aid ; 
 
 Come, both ; and with you bring thy warlike sire, 
 
 In loves and gentle jollities array' d, 
 
 After his bloody spoils and rage have been allay' d. 
 
254 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 And with them eke, O Goddess heavenly bright, 
 
 Mirror of grace and majesty divine, 
 
 Great Lady of the Greatest Isle, whose light 
 
 Like Phoebus' lamp throughout the world doth shine, 
 
 Shed thy fear beams into these eyes of mine, 
 
 And raise my thoughts, too humble and too vile 
 
 To think of that too glorious type of thine. 
 
 The subject of my poor and lowly style : 
 
 And this to hear vouchsafe, revered and dear, awhile ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 JNoTE. — Tanaquil or Gloriana is Queen Elizabeth, and the Briton 
 Prince is the Earl of Leicester. The apotheosis of Queen 
 Elizabeth was a characteristic of the age. She is represented 
 by Shakespeare as a Diana " In maiden meditation, fancy free." 
 Style — I prefer to take the Spenserian word " stile " in the 
 sense of " style " rather than that of " a pen," as Kitchin does 
 in his edition of the " Faery Queen."] 
 
THE MAID OF ORLEANS. 
 
 (From Schiller), 
 
 SEE you the rainbow in the airy realm ? 
 The heavens open wide their golden door, 
 In choir of angels stands she glowing there, 
 She holds her deathless Son upon her breast, 
 Her arms she stretches smiling unto me. 
 What's come of me ? Light clouds do lift me uo, 
 My heavy mail doth turn to winged weeds ; 
 Above — above — the earth doth fly behind. 
 Short is the pain, and deathless is the joy. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note.— I let these lines speak for themselves,] 
 
WILLIAM TELL. 
 
 (From Schiller). 
 
 SO I must fall into the foeman's hands, 
 The nearest shore of rescue full in view ! 
 There it lies ! I can reach it with mine eyes ; 
 Out there can force its way a loud halloo ; 
 There is the bark, which well may waft me o'er, 
 And here I must lie, helpless, in despair ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 (NoTJC— A common metaphor very well expressed] 
 
THE KINSHIP OF SOULS, 
 
 {From Bhavabhuti). 
 
 THERE doth run throughout all objects 
 some cause that's inly blended ; 
 'Tis not qualities external 
 engage affections tender ; 
 At the rise of sun its petals 
 
 the lotus holds distended ; 
 At the rise of moon its moisture 
 
 the lunar gem doth render 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Bhavabhuti is the tenderest poet ot affection in all Indian 
 literature. In another passage he speaks of the "magnetic 
 attraction " between kindred souls, whether their kinship be one 
 of blood or of love. It is only the kinship of the sexes which is 
 glorified in the following lines from Mr. Arthur Symons'S 
 ♦* Magnificat " : 
 
 " The pulses of our bodies knew 
 Each other : our hearts leapt and sung."] 
 
INDRA. 
 
 (From Gritsamada). 
 
 WHO, soon as he was born, the first, high-minded, 
 Himself a God, the Gods by might exceeded, 
 Before whose breath both Heaven and Earth 
 did tremble 
 For might of manhood ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Who caused the Earth that stagger' d to be stedfast, 
 Who caused the Hills that moved to cease from motion, 
 Who measured out the mid-air all too ample, 
 Who set up Heaven ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Who slew the Dragon, freed the Seven Rivers, 
 Who drove the kine from out the cave of Bala, 
 Who from between two stones the Fire engendered, 
 Spoiler in battles ; he, O men, is Indra, 
 
 By whom this Universe was made to quiver. 
 Who sent the lower Dasa race to caverns. 
 Who like a gambler winning myriads took off 
 The foeman's riches ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Of whom they ask " Where's he ? " in awful manner, 
 And even say of him " He doth exist not," 
 He like a scourge doth slay the foeman's cattle, 
 Have faith upon him ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Who stirs the rich to action, who the lowly. 
 Who stirs the priest, the suppUant, and the poet, 
 Who, fair of features, aids the press-stone-joiner, 
 The Soma-presser ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
INDRA. f59 
 
 Who holds in sway the horses, whose the cows are, 
 Whose all the villages, whose all the chariots. 
 Who made the Sun, who did the Dawn engender. 
 Who guides the Waters ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Whom Heaven and Earth brought close together summoH, 
 The weaker and the stronger, both the foemen 
 Two men upon the self-same chariot mounted 
 Call severally ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Without whose help the people may not conquer 
 Whom in the midmost fight for help they summon. 
 Who of the Universe became the image. 
 Who shakes the unshaken ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Who all the carriers of mighty evil. 
 Ere yet they knew their danger, slew by thunder. 
 Who to the bold concedeth not his boldness, 
 Who slays the Dasyu ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Who lookt for Sambara in hills abiding 
 And in the fortieth autumn there did find him. 
 Who slew the Dragon waxing in his prowess, 
 The Demon lying ; he, O men is Indra. 
 
 Who with his seven reins, the pourer powerful, 
 Set free to flow at will the Seven Rivers, 
 Who, thunder-arm'd, made Rouhina to tremble 
 While chmbing heavenward ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 The very Heaven and Earth do bow before him, 
 Before his very breath the Hills do tremble. 
 Who, known as Soma-drinker, holds the thunder 
 In arm and hand too ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
26o ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Who helps the Soma-pourer, who the brewer, 
 Who helps the singer, who the priest, with succx>ur, 
 Whom prayer exalteth, unto whom is Soma, 
 Whose all this treature ; he, O men, is Indra. 
 
 Thou who to pourer and to brewer, Almighty 
 Full often givest food, in sooth existest ; 
 May Ve, O Indra, dear to thee for ever, 
 With goodly heroes, chant aloud thy praises. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — ^This is the oldest Aryan record of theists expostulating 
 atheists. Indra is like Rudyard Kipling's "Jehovah of the 
 Thunders." He is the Jove of Indian mythology.] 
 
THE TWIN ASVINS. 
 
 (From Vasishtha). 
 
 COME, shining Asvins twain, with goodly horses. 
 Accepting, Wondrous Ones, his hymn who seeks 
 you; ■'v"^^^^?1'?;/|.^yi 
 
 And eke enjoy oblations that we bring up 
 
 Before you stand the maddening juices ready ; 
 Come quickly to enjoy this mine oblation ; 
 Athwart the foeman's call, do hear our summons. 
 
 Forth comes your chariot, speedy as the mind is, 
 Athwart the gloom, with hundred aids, O Asvins, 
 To US-ward hastening, loving friends of Surya. 
 
 When this your stone which seeks its Gods for worship, 
 
 UpHfts its voice, distilling for you Soma, 
 
 Fair ones, the priest will bring you with oblations. 
 
 Wondrous, indeed, the nourishment that ye have; 
 
 Thereof a store to Atri ye did offer, 
 
 For he receives your succour, dear as he is. 
 
 That, too, was yours, O Asvins, what the aged 
 
 Chyavana got back, offering oblations. 
 
 When ye bestow' d a form to serve him thenceforth. 
 
 And Bhujyu, too, O Asvins, by his comrades 
 Was cast out faithlessly in midmost ocean ; 
 He was delivered by your horse that seeks you. 
 
 And Vrika when exhausted ye did strengthen ; 
 
 Ye also hearken'd Sayu when he called you ; 
 
 Ye who did fill the cow as tho* with water 
 
 The barren too with strength by strength, O Asvins. 
 
262 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Here is that bard who with his hymns extols you, 
 Awaking in the front of dawn, good-minded ; 
 With food may he, with milk of cow, be nourish'd. 
 May ye protect us ever with your blessings. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The Asvins formed the Vedic conception of ministering 
 angels. They were the Dioscuri of ancient India.] 
 
THE MARUTS. 
 {From Vasishtha) 
 
 (The poet muses), 
 
 WHO are they, shining, 
 A nest of heroes ? ^j| 
 The youth of Rudra 
 So, on good horses. 
 
 Of these no person 
 The springings knoweth ; 
 They only know of 
 Each other's springhead. 
 
 With their own blowings 
 They strew' d each other ; 
 Like blasts a-sounding, 
 The Hawks did struggle. 
 
 A sage did know of 
 These things mysterious, 
 What mighty Prisni 
 Bore in her inside. 
 
 (Blesses the tribal band). 
 
 This band of heroes 
 Be thro' the Maruts 
 Ever victorious, 
 Nursing their manhood. 
 
 In speed the speediest, 
 In sheen the sheeniest, 
 Close-knit to glory. 
 With prowess fearful. 
 
264 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 {Addresses it). 
 
 Fearful your prowess, 
 Constant your valour, 
 So thro' the Maruts 
 The band be doughty. 
 
 Sheeny your valour, 
 Wrathful your spirits, 
 Sage-like the minstrel 
 Of your firm war-band 
 
 {Prays to the Maruts). 
 
 From us for ever 
 Avert your lightning ; 
 May not your ill-will 
 Reach us down hither. 
 
 Your names endearing 
 I call, O swift ones, 
 Till they are sated 
 Who seek the Maruts. 
 
 {Praises them). 
 
 With goodly weapons, 
 Impetuous, well-decked, 
 Eke your own bodies 
 Yourselves adorning. 
 
 Pure are your offerings, O Maruts, pure ones ; 
 Pure sacrifice I render to the pure ones ; 
 By law to truth arrived the law-observers. 
 Pure by their birth, and pure, and sanctifying. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note.— This is almost Greek !] 
 
 I 
 
KING ARTHUR'S COURTi 
 
 (From ChresUen de Troyes). 
 
 ARTHUR, of Britain goodly king, 
 Whose prowess teaches us this thing, 
 That we should be genteel and bold, 
 Held court so rich as king might hold 
 At that great feast, which so much cost, 
 That we should call it Pentecost. 
 The court at Cardoil was, in Wales. 
 After the feast, within the halls. 
 The knights in groups did gather there 
 Where ladies calVd them to appear. 
 Or damsels bright, or maidens sweet. 
 New tales did some of them repeat ; 
 And others spake of love, and all 
 The anguish and the pains that fall, 
 And the great good, which oft is found 
 By pupils to that Order bound. 
 Which in those days was rich and fair. 
 Now little of its own is there ; 
 For, nearly all have left it quite. 
 And so is Love brought to low plight ; 
 For, those who used Love's fire to feel 
 Did win the title of genteel 
 And bold and free and honourable. 
 
266 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Now Love is tum'd into a fable, 
 For they, who feel it in no wise, 
 Say that they love, but they tell lies, 
 And they make fables lying quite, 
 Who boast of it, and have no right. 
 But, still to speak of those who were. 
 Those now alive let us forbear ! 
 For, in my view, are worthier far 
 The dead genteel than knaves that are. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB.— This is a typical specimen of the style of the early French 
 court romance. See how differently Arthur is handled by Malory; 
 how differently again bv leunyson ; and how differently once mofe 
 by Mr. Henry Newbolt. We cannot say what the projected 
 " Arturiad" of Milton would have been hke.] 
 
THE EYE OF ENVY. 
 
 {From Guillaume de Lorris). 
 
 SHE did not any object view 
 Save only with an eye askew. 
 She had a habit hardly good, 
 That in the face she never could 
 See anything in manner plain, 
 But shut one eye for deep disdain ; 
 For, she did melt with rage, and burn'd, 
 iWhen anyone to whom she tum'd 
 Was either bold or fair or kind 
 Or loved or praised by all mankind. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— This is from " Le Roman de la Rose," to which Chaucer 
 was so much indebted.] 
 
THE ORIGIN OF KINGSHIP. 
 
 {From Jean de Meung). 
 
 THEIR choice on a great knave did fall, 
 The brawniest fellow of them all, 
 The fattest and the tallest thing, 
 And him they made their lord and king ; 
 He swore that he their laws would tend. 
 And that he would their homes defend. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Good, Jean de Meung! worthy predecessor of jean 
 J acqnes Rousseau] 
 
THE COCK AND THE GEM. 
 
 {From Marie de France), 
 
 TTJSOP related : A cock did go 
 JLK^ Up a dung-hill, and scratch'd it so, 
 And sought, according to his kind, 
 His food, as he was wont to find. 
 A precious gem he did descry, 
 He saw it bright, and pass'd it by. 
 " I thought," says he, '' I'd find my food 
 Upon this dung-hill if I could. 
 *Now thee, O gem, I've chanced to see, 
 Thou shalt not be removed by me. 
 If thee a rich man did behold, 
 I know he would set thee in gold. 
 And thus would wax thy sheen full fair 
 By means of gold with beauty rare. 
 As my desire is not in thee, 
 No honour shalt thou have from me." 
 Likewise with many folk it is, 
 If all things come not as they please, 
 As with the cock and gem hath been. 
 Of man and woman this we've seen : 
 Honour at all they do not prize. 
 They take the worse, the better despise. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This Anglo-Nomian poetess had a great share in popularis- 
 ing ^sop in France. The origin of-^sop*s Fables is to be 
 sought ill the Indian Hitopadesa and Panchatantra.] 
 
THE COCK AND THE PEARL. 
 
 (From La Fontaine). 
 
 ONCE a cock did run away 
 With a pearl, which he did lay 
 With the greatest jeweller ; 
 " I do think it fine," said he ; 
 " But the smallest com would be 
 Just the thing I would prefer *' 
 
 Once a man unlettered got 
 
 Book handwritten, which he brought 
 
 To his next-door bookseller ; 
 " I do think it good," said he ; 
 " But the smallest coin would be 
 
 Just the thing I would prefer." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — I do not know if this is a typical specimen of La Fontaine's 
 "Fables," the most French of all French books. Bat compare 
 him with Marie de France, and also with Gay. Is he not 
 superior to Phaedrus ?] 
 
MINSTREL LIFE. 
 
 (From Colin Muset), 
 
 COUNT, the viol I did play 
 To you in your palace aye ; 
 And you gave me nothing, nay, 
 Nor my wages did you pay ; 
 
 'Twas villany. 
 Faith that I to Mary owe, 
 Never will I seek you, no ; 
 Poorly doth my alms-bag flow, 
 And my trunk is furnish'd so. 
 
 Therefore, Count, you freely may 
 Unto me your wish convey ; 
 Sire, an if it please you, pray, 
 Give me then a present gay 
 
 Thro* courtesy. 
 I do wish, no doubt you know. 
 Back unto my house to go ; 
 When I come with purse too low. 
 Ne'er my wife her smiles doth strew. 
 
 " Sir Allfrozen," she doth say, 
 " In what country did you stay, 
 You who nothing brought away 
 
 v.:-,^l;| From town, I see ? 
 How your trunk is folded, lo ! 
 'Tis but wind that makes it blow ; 
 Cursed one, that, to her woe. 
 In a boat with you would row." 
 
272 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 When back home I go my way, 
 And my wife hath seen that day 
 On my back the full bag sway, 
 And myself in garment gray 
 Deck'd beauteously, 
 Know, her distaff by her toe 
 Lays she soon, I do not crow ; 
 She doth smile full free, and oh ! 
 Round my neck her arms doth throw. 
 
 Then my page doth go purvey 
 For my horse his drink and hay, 
 And my maid without delay 
 Kills two capons, which to lay 
 
 In sauce for me ; 
 And my girl with kindly glow 
 Gets a comb on me to 'stow ; 
 Then at home my sway doth grow, 
 More than one in words can show. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note. — This is a chapter from Colin Muset'sown life.J 
 
SILVIO AND MONICO. 
 
 {From Petrarch). 
 (Silvio). 
 
 O MONICO, how now, in lonesome cave 
 Reclining all in gentle peace, the herd 
 And cares of tending fields hast thou forsook ? 
 I wander thro' the shaggy hills and woods, 
 Hapless ! I'm cheated. Who this twofold fate 
 Doth place betwixt twin brothers ? To the world 
 They came thro' one sole mother ; and to them 
 Will not the self -same earth supply a tomb ? 
 
 (Monico). 
 
 O Silvio, why dost thou mourn ? why grieve ? 
 
 Of thine own pain thou art thyself the cause. 
 
 Who makes thee rove ? Who drives thee to the tops 
 
 Of mountain hard to climb, and thro' lone ways 
 
 Leads thee to ramble, and among the crags 
 
 All green with moss, and to the river-springs 
 
 Sonorous ? 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The Italian blank verse had a great share in shaping the 
 English, although the origin of the latter must be sought in 
 England ; see Gollancz's Preface to " Cynewulf." Contrast 
 Milton's blank verse, and compare Shelley's, with Petrarch's.] 
 
A BALLATA ON LAURA'S VEIL. 
 
 (From Petrarch). 
 
 WITHOUT your veil in either sun or shade, 
 Lady, I see you not, 
 
 Since you descried in me the yearning hot, 
 Which drives all others from my heart decay' d. 
 The whiles I bore those fine thoughts unrevealed, 
 Which hold my yearning mind in death prostrate, 
 I saw some pity lend your face its rose ; 
 But when Love let you know my woful state, 
 Your flaxen locks were then by veil conceal' d. 
 And all your loving looks were gather' d close. 
 What more in you I yeam'd for, off me goes ; 
 Me thus your veil doth hold, 
 Which, thro' my death by veering hot and cold. 
 The sweet Hght of your fine eyes doth o'ershade. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The history of the ballata is specially interesting to the 
 student of English literature, as it was used by Spenser and 
 Milton among other poets.] 
 
A SESTINA ON A LOVER'S HOURS. 
 (From Petrarch). 
 
 TO ev'ry creature that doth lodge in earthy^ 
 Save but a few, that hold in hate the sun, 
 A time there is for toil, and 'tis the day ; 
 But when the heavens lighten up their stars,* 
 One goes to hut, and one is housed in woodf 
 To have some rest at least until the dawn. 
 
 And I, since when begins the beauteous dawn 
 To drive the shades about from over earth. 
 Waking the creatures up in ev'ry wood. 
 Have ne'er a truce with sighs below the sun ; 
 Then, when I see aflame with light the stars, 
 I walk, in tears, and yearning after day. , 
 
 When evening puts to flight the radiant day. 
 And when our gloom to others makes their dawn, 
 I muse and wonder at the cruel stars, 
 Which made me palpable as one of earth. 
 And curse the day when first I saw the sun. 
 Which makes me seem a man uprear'd in wood, 
 
 I think not, there was ever nursed in wood 
 
 So rough a savage, or by night or day. 
 
 As she, for whom I moan in shade and sun ; 
 
 And I'm not tired by early sleep or dawn. 
 
 For, tho' my mortal body be of earth, 
 
 My stedfast yearning comes from out the stars. 
 
276 1^; ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST.] 
 
 Ere I return to you, O shining starSy 
 Or turn adown in midst of Love's sweet wood, 
 Leaving this frame, which shall be trodden earth. 
 Might I see pity in her, which in one day 
 Could make up many years, and till the dawn 
 Could make me rich from time of setting sun I 
 
 Might I be with her since the parting sun, 
 And might none others see us but the stars 
 For one sole night, and were it never dawn, 
 And were she not to change in verdant wood 
 To cheat and scape mine arms, as on the day 
 When Phoebus chased her here adown on earth ! 
 
 But I'll be under earth in sapless wood ; 
 The day will go all full of tiny stars, 
 Ere to so sweet a dawn attains the sun, 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. —It should be noted that the Itahan sestina has no rimes as 
 there are in the French sextine, used several times by Swinburne.] 
 
A VILLANELLE ON A TURTLEDOVE. 
 
 {From Passer at.) 
 
 FLEW my turtledove away. 
 Is it she I listen to ? 
 After her I'll go my way. 
 
 For thy mate thou moanest aye, 
 Ah ! likewise for mine I do : 
 Flew my turtledove away. 
 
 If thy love was true by fay, 
 Just the same my faith was true : 
 After her I'll go my way. 
 
 Wax thy sorrows day by day, 
 Ever I my loss should rue : 
 Flew my turtledove away. 
 
 View that fair no more I may, 
 Aught of fair no more I view : 
 After her I'll go my way. 
 
 Death, to whom full oft I pray, 
 Take the gift that to thee flew : 
 Flew my turtledove away. 
 After her I'll go my way. 
 
 September, 1908 
 
 [Note.— The last four lines remind me of D. G. Rossetti's translation 
 of VilJon's "To Death, of his Lady." Villanelles seem to be 
 quite common in our day. Swinburne and Mr. Edmund Gosse 
 have written some.] 
 
A VIRELAY ON WORLDLY WISDOMi 
 
 {From Middle French), 
 
 AH ! thou seest not 
 Steps with peril fraught 
 
 Whither thou dost flee ? 
 Tis a wretched lot, 
 Thus to be distraught 
 For some ducats' fee. 
 
 Thou dost wander, see, 
 Straight in hell to be, jj^^^ 
 
 But, deceived, thou hast no thought : 
 Think of checking thee 
 And of being free. 
 
 So to answer what was wrought. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The oiiginal is not a perfect virelay, because the first rimes 
 of the first half are not repeated in the second half, as they 
 are in this rendering,] 
 
A LULLABY, IN PANTOUM. 
 
 (From Theodore de Banville.) 
 
 ON margin of this heavenly stream 
 A thousand birds contending sing. 
 My child, my sole last good I deem, 
 
 Sleep 'neath the tree-boughs flowering. 
 
 A thousand birds contending sing. 
 
 Upon the rill a swan goes light. 
 Sleep 'neath the tree-boughs flowering, 
 ^ O thou, my joy and my delight. 
 
 Upon the rill a swan goes light, 
 
 In flames of setting sun array' d. 
 
 O thou, my joy and my delight, 
 
 Sleep soundly, by my song allay'd. 
 
 In flames of setting sun array' d. 
 
 The olden mount with snow shines clear, 
 Sleep soundly, by my song allay'd. 
 
 Some kindly god protect thee here ! 
 
 The olden mount with snow shines clear, 
 Blooms at its foot the ebon-tree. 
 
 Some kindly god protect thee here ! 
 Thy tiny mouth is smiling free. 
 
 Blooms at its foot the ebon-tree, 
 
 By shining metals 'tis conceal' d. 
 Thy tiny mouth is smiling free. 
 
 Like cups of flowers to view reveal'd. 
 
 By shining metals 'tis conceal'd, 
 
 I see some diamonds ablaze. 
 Like cups of flowers to view reveal'd, 
 
 Thy lip is full of charming rays. 
 
28o ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 I see some diamonds ablaze 
 
 Upon the mountain's witching brow. 
 
 Thy lip is full of charming rays, 
 
 Sleep, a sweet dream caress thee now! 
 
 Upon the mountain's witching brow 
 
 I see some bits of topaz shine. 
 Sleep, a sweet dream caress thee now, 
 
 O shut thy lotus-azure eyne ! 
 
 I see some bits of topaz shine, 
 
 Which drive away each deadly dream. 
 'O shut thy lotus-azure eyne 
 
 On margin of this heavenly stream ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is a very fine poem, but I doubt if it is quite 
 Malayan. The one French poet who really knew the East 
 was Leconte de Lisle.] 
 
 i 
 
A CHRISTIAN'S ADVICE, IN CHANT- 
 ROYAL. 
 
 (From Marot.) 
 
 WHO loveth God, His kingdom and His sway/ 
 Should nothing but His honour due deare ; 
 And, nathless, man aspireth day by day 
 To his own good and ease and weal entire, 
 And takes no thought if aught doth scorn or slight. 
 In his desires, God's majesty and might. 
 The greatest number seeks great wealth to gain ; 
 The smallest to great knowledge would attain ; 
 Another to escape dishonour tries ; 
 Another seeks, to make provisions fain. 
 The frame in health and soul in paradise. 
 
 These sweet contending wishes, one may say. 
 
 Are like to black and white in one attire ; 
 
 For, Christ doth promise to His own, that they 
 
 Shall have, below, but pangs and sorrows dire. 
 
 Moreover, answer me, who is that wight. 
 
 Who without death shall reach the heavens bright ? 
 
 No one, for certain. We must think, again. 
 
 Death cannot over us so falsely reign 
 
 That we may suffer sorrows in no wise. 
 
 Therefore it seems we never can sustain 
 
 The frame in health and soul in paradise. 
 
282 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 Envoy. 
 
 O royal prince, when God by might will deign 
 To shake the heavens and the earth amain, 
 And when the bodies from the mould shall rise. 
 Then to be sure this good we shall obtain — 
 The frame in health and soul in paradise. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTR. — Observe the complexity of the rime-system in the Chant 
 
 Royal, which has been used in English by Swinburne and ^ 
 others.] 
 
A TRIOLET ON BEAUTY'S CHARMS. 
 
 {From Guillaume de Machaidt.) 
 
 WHITE as the lily, ruddier than the rose, 
 And shining as the Eastern rubies shine, .. 
 In wonder of your peerless beauty's glows, 
 White as the lily, ruddier than the rose. 
 My heart keeps watch, such ravishment it knows. 
 Always to serve you right like lover fine, 
 White as the lily, ruddier than the rose,' 
 And shining as the Eastern rubies shine.^ 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is one of the finest triolets I know in French. It is 
 quite Celtic; am I far wrong if I say, Mr. Yeats could have 
 written it ? The triolet is a species of the roundel.] 
 
A ROUNDEL ON BEAUTY'S CHARMS, 
 
 {From Charles d'OrUans.) 
 
 o 
 
 GOD ! how good to see her free, 
 That one so graceful, fair and sweet ! 
 For the great gifts, that in her meet, 
 From all a ready praise hath she. 
 
 Of her a- weary who could be ? 
 
 Her beauty ever waxes neat. 
 
 O God ! how good to see her free, 
 That one so graceful, fair and sweet ! 
 
 Nor hither, nor beyond the sea, 
 
 A lady or a lass I weet, 
 
 Who in all gifts is so complete. 
 
 Tis but a dream, that thought in me : 
 
 O God ! how good to see her free ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — Compare the structure of this roundel with that of Chaucer's 
 «* Triple Roundel."] 
 
THE LAY OF PLEASANCE. 
 
 {From Alain Chartier.) 
 
 PLEASANCE most of all maintains 
 And detains 
 Who himself contains, 
 Sustains him graciously. 
 For, all good she entertains 
 And contains : 
 Unto her pertains, 
 Hence one gains, gay jollity. 
 
 What she works for she obtains"; 
 
 It obtains 
 
 That who her retains 
 
 Attains to pleasantry. 
 
 She the old in life sustains 
 
 And maintains. 
 
 Who her thoughts contains 
 
 Oft gains his dignity. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [This is given as a specimen of the French riming habit run mad. It 
 may be liked by those who can decipher Mallarm^'s poetry !] 
 
AN ODE ON A ROSE. 
 
 {From Ronsard). 
 
 MY darling, come, see if the rose 
 That in the morning did disclose • 
 Her robe of purple sunward-blown, 
 Hath lost at all, this fall of night, 
 The folds of robe with purple dight, 
 And all her due so like your own. 
 
 Alas ! see how in little space, 
 My darling, she hath on the place 
 Let all her beauty downward glide ! 
 O truly Stepdame Nature's dread. 
 For such a flower can keep her red 
 But from the mom till eventide ! 
 
 Then, if you trust me, darling mine. 
 While yet thine age doth bloom and shine 
 All in its newest freshest green, 
 O cull, O cull your youthful blowth. 
 As hath this flower, for age and growth 
 Will stain your beauty's hue serene. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — This is the French version of the same story as Herrick's 
 "Counsel to Girls," which begins thus : "Gather ye rose-buds 
 while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying." In our day Mrs. 
 Woods says, quite like a man : 
 
 *• Youth and jests and summer weather, 
 
 These, the best, we miss pursuing 
 Sullen shades that mock our wooing."] 
 
A BALLADE ON THE VALUE OF 
 HONOUR. 
 
 (From Eustache Deschamps). 
 
 HE who can live his faithful toil upon, 
 By his own art, or by his income got 
 Without excess, doth live an honour'd one; 
 For, all aright his goal of life is raught. 
 Since he in theft or murder is not caught, 
 And since he always clings to loyalty, 
 And ne'er by wrongful means he comes by ought ; 
 Honour's worth more than wealth with infamy. 
 
 The faithless rich man, honour may have none, 
 All in a whUe his land doth come to nought, 
 His sin doth make his colour change anon, 
 So people see the great mistake he wrought ; 
 He dare not go with head raised bare, who wot 
 His own misdeed ; so earthward foolishly 
 And shamefully like moulted beast he's brought : 
 Honour's worth more than wealth with infamy. 
 
 For when a man some faithless deed hath done, 
 In streets he shall be pointed out and sought ; 
 And then he only seeks somewhere to run 
 To hide himself, for he with sin is fraught ; 
 The faithful poor man holds his head full haught, 
 Fears none, unhurt by foul indignity. 
 This thing by none should ever be forgot : 
 Honour's worth more than wealth with infamy. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 (Note. — Obsei-ve the construction of this intncate oallade. Contrast 
 this with FalstafTs mock dissertation on Honour in Shakespeare's 
 " Henry IV."] 
 
ANELIDA'S COMPLAINT TO ARCITE. 
 
 {From Chaucer). 
 
 N 
 
 OW certainly, my sweet, tho' ye 
 Thus for no cause the cause will be 
 Of all my dire calamity, 
 Your manly reason ought to show respite 
 To slay your friend, and that is me,. 
 That never yet, in no degree. 
 Offended you, as wisely He, 
 Who knoweth all, with woe my soul requite ! 
 
 But as I show'd to you, Arcite, 
 All that to me men sought to write, 
 And was so prompt for your delight, 
 
 Mine honour save, O meek and kind and free ; 
 Therefore ye put on me the wite. 
 And do not care for me a mite, 
 Altho' the sword of sorrow bite 
 
 My woful heart all thro* your cruelty ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Observe the beauty of this single virelay in Chaucer. 
 With regard to the poetry of it, Shakespeare has touched this 
 string many times, to say nothing of a world of novelists.] 
 
CHAUCER'S appearance; 
 
 {From Chaucer). 
 
 WHEN said all this wonder, ev'ry man 
 So sober grew, 'twas wonderful to see, 
 Until our host to crack his jests began, 
 And then at first he cast his look on me. 
 And thus he said : " What man art thou ? " said he ; 
 " Thou lookest as if thou wouldst find a hare. 
 For, ever on the ground I see thee stare. 
 
 " Approach thou near, and merrily look high. 
 
 Now take care, sirs, and let this man have place ; 
 
 He in the waist is shaped as well as I ; 
 
 This were a puppet in an arm to embrace 
 
 For any woman, smaU and fair of face. 
 
 He seems all eery in his countenance,^ 
 
 For, to no person does he daUiance. 
 
 " Say something now, since other folk have said ; 
 
 Tell us a tale of mirth and that anon." 
 
 " Host," said I, " do not be discomfited ; 
 
 For, other tale I certainly know none, 
 
 A rime I learnt, a long time since is gone." 
 
 " Yes, that is good," said he ; " now we shall hear 
 
 Some fine thing, as may by his face appear." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Compare this description with the line, "Since I, from 
 Love escaping, am so fat." Probably these two passages 
 inspired the following lines of Mr. Owen Seaman ; 
 *• O profuse and imposing and passive, 
 O dame of the devious waist, 
 Whose circuit, amorphous and massive, 
 These arms could never have embraced."] 
 
THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. 
 
 {From Chaucer). 
 
 NOW list ye, sirs, with right good heed, 
 And I will tell a tale, indeed, 
 Of mirth and of delight ; 
 There was a knight of right good breed, 
 In fray and tourney bold of deed, 
 Sir Thopas was he hight. 
 
 In far-off country bom was he, 
 In Flanders, all beyond the sea, 
 
 At Popering, that's the place ; 
 His father was a man full free, 
 And of that country lord was he. 
 
 As it was Heaven's grace. 
 
 Sir Thopas grew a valiant knight. 
 
 Like the Lord's bread his face was white. 
 
 His lips were red as rose ; 
 His hue like scarlet dye was bright. 
 And I do tell you all aright. 
 
 He had a seemly nose. 
 
 His hair, his beard were saffron-brown, 
 That to his girdle reach' d adown, 
 His shoes were of Cordwane, 
 His hosen brown of Bridges town. 
 His robe was made of ciclatoun, 
 ■«^ That cost him many a jane. 
 
 He well could hunt what deer soever, 
 And ride a-hawking on the river, 
 
 With Goshawk gray in hand ; 
 Besides, he was a marksman clever 
 At wrestling rivals had he never. 
 
 Where any ram might stand. 
 
THE RIME OF SIR THOPAS. 291 
 
 Full many a maid in chamber bright 
 Did mourn for him, their love, at night 
 
 When they had better sleep ; 
 But he was chaste, no lecher light, 
 And sweet as bramble-flower is dight, 
 
 That bears the ruddy heap. 
 
 And so it fell upon a day. 
 For very sooth, as I may say. 
 
 Sir Thopas had a ride ; 
 He was upon his stallion gay, 
 And in his hand a lance did sway, 
 
 A long sword by his side. 
 
 He rode out thro' a forest fair. 
 Wherein wild beasts full many were. 
 
 Yes, buck, and hare as well ; 
 And, riding north and east out there, 
 I tell it you, a sorry care 
 
 Well-nigh upon him fell. 
 
 Herbs great and small there did not fail. 
 The liquorice, and setwall pale, 
 
 And many a clove's array ; 
 And nutmeg too, to put in ale, 
 Whether it be all moist or stale. 
 
 Or in a box to lay. 
 
 The birds did sing, you can't say nay. 
 The sparrow-hawk and popinjay, _ 
 
 That it was joy to hear ; 
 The song-thrush also made his lay. 
 The wood-pigeon upon the spray 
 
 Did sing full loud and clear. 
 
292 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Sir Thopas 'gan for love to long, 
 Just when he heard the thrush's song, 
 
 And all in madness rode ; 
 His stallion fair, for riding strong. 
 So sweated, that he might be wrung, 
 
 His sides with blood o'erflow'd. 
 
 Sir Thopas was so tired and hot 
 For riding on the grassy plot. 
 
 So fierce was he in mood. 
 That down he laid him on the spot. 
 To give his stallion rest he sought, 
 
 And gave him forage good. 
 
 " Blest Mary ! benedicite ! 
 
 What aihng brings this love on me 
 
 To bind me down so sore ? 
 God ! visions I this night did see, 
 An elf -queen shall my darling be. 
 
 And sleep beneath my gore. 
 
 " An elf-queen will I love, that's it ! 
 For in this world no woman's fit 
 
 A wife for me to make 
 In town ; 
 All other women I forsake. 
 And to an elf-queen I betake - 
 
 My steps by dale and down." 
 
 [Here I am " stinted of " the Tale of Sir Thopas. ) 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— See the good-humoured tediousness of this poem. 
 Chaucer was not " stinted of " the Tale till after a few more 
 similar verses. Michsiel Drayton imitates this in his " Ballad 
 of Dowsabel," and refers to this in his " Nymphidia."] 
 
TIRESOME WRITINGS. 
 
 (From Juvenal). 
 
 EVER am I but a hearer ? and never am I to revenge 
 me, 
 Plagued so oft with the jarring of Codrus* 
 " Story of Theseus ? " 
 Scot-free, then, this one is to read to me comedies, that 
 
 one 
 Elegies ? all scot-free is my day to be wasted by bulky 
 "Telephus," or, scribbled on the margin of volume 
 
 completed. 
 Written as well on the back, nor still quite ended, 
 
 " Orestes ? " 
 Better is no one aware of his own house than I of Mars's 
 Arbour, and eke of the cave, near unto iEolian mountains, 
 Vulcan keeps ; what's done by the winds, what spirits 
 
 are crushed by 
 ^acus, whence doth another abscond with the cleverly 
 
 r stolen 
 Gold of the fleece, what huge rowans down Monycus 
 
 tumble, 
 Fronto's arbour of planes, and his marbles, shaken, do 
 '^ ^ echo 
 Ever, his columns as well, out-split by the sedulous 
 
 reader. 
 Look for the same, same themes from the least and the 
 
 greatest of poets. 
 Still it was I, who my hand from the cane drew back, 
 
 it was I, too. 
 Once gave Sulla advice that he should full soundly in 
 
 private 
 Slumber ; it were but a mercy insane, when around me 
 
 so many 
 
294 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Inspired poets I meet, to be chary of perishing paper. 
 Still why rather I choose to career right over the regions 
 Thro' where Aurunca's great fosterling tended his 
 
 coursers, 
 Should ye have leisure, and calmly allow sheer reason, 
 
 I'll tell you. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTK. — Pronto was a greH patron of poetasters. Lucilius, the 
 father of Roman satirists, was a native of Aurunca.] 
 
THE FROGS. 
 
 (From the Rigveda). 
 
 FOR one whole year they lay adown, 
 Those Brahmans that fulfil their vows. 
 Their voice Parjanya hath inspired, 
 The frogs have utter' d forth a speech. 
 
 What time the heavenly waters come upon them, 
 As on a dried-up skin in pool a-lying, 
 Then, like the sound of kine with calves beside them^ 
 The music of the Frogs comes here in concert. 
 
 When at their yearning falls the rain upon them 
 While thirsty at the rainy season's advent, 
 Out-cr5dng, as a son doth greet his father, 
 One seeks another as that other speaks up. 
 
 Each of these twain receives the other kindly, 
 While at the flow of waters they do revel ; 
 What time the Frog bedew'd with rain springs forward. 
 Spotty combines with Green his voice in concert. 
 
 When one of these the language of the other 
 Repeats, as he that learns doth of the teacher. 
 Their ev'ry limb doth seem to be increasing, 
 As with good voice ye spake upon the waters. 
 
 Cow-bellow here is one, Goat-bleat another. 
 
 Spotty is one, and Green is one among them ; 
 
 One common name they bear, and yet they vary ; 
 
 In many ways their voice they've form'd, a-speaking. 
 
296 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Like Brahmans at the Soma-rite of Atiratra 
 Around the brimful vessel making speeches, 
 Upon that first day of the year ye gather, 
 What time, O Frogs, the rainy day is come up 
 
 The Brahmans with the Soma have made speeches, 
 Performing all their yearly rites of prayer ; 
 The Adhvaryus, full of summer and a-sweating, 
 Come forth to view, and none of them are hidden. 
 
 They have observed the twelvemonth's godly order ; 
 The season by these men is not neglected ; 
 When once a year the rainy season cometh. 
 The heated smnmer'd ones acquire their freedom. 
 
 Cow-bellow now hath given, Goat-bleat hath given, 
 Spotty hath given, Green hath given us riches ; 
 The Frogs, bestowing on us kine in hundreds. 
 Prolong our lives at this most fertile season. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 {Note.— Atiratra means " over-night wassail." The interpretation 
 of this apparently satiric hymn is difficult ; see Macdonell's 
 •• History of Sanskrit Literature." The text should be read 
 with the help of Grassman's " Worterbuch zum Rig- Veda."] 
 
THE MERRY MONK. 
 
 (From Chaucer), 
 
 A MONK there was, above all excellent. 
 One fond of riding out, on hunting bent, 
 A manly man, to be an abbot able. 
 Full many a well-fed steed he had in stable : 
 And, when he rode, his bridle you could hear 
 A-jingling in a whistling wind as clear 
 And quite as loud as did the Chapel-bell, 
 There where this lord was prior of the cell. 
 The rule of Saint Maur or Saint Benedict, — 
 Since it was very old and somewhat strict, — 
 This monk let go such olden things apace. 
 And held in mode of modern world his race. 
 He gave not for that text a plume-pluck' d hen, 
 That says, that hunters are not holy men ; 
 Nor that one, where a monk, when cloisterless, 
 Is liken'd to a fish, when waterless ; 
 That is to say, a monk out of his cloister. 
 And that same text he held not worth an oyster: ; 
 And I did say, his view was not so bad. 
 Why should he read, and drive himself all mad, 
 Upon a book in cloister always pore. 
 Or toil with hands, or labour o'er and o'er. 
 As Austin bids ? How shall the world be served ? 
 Let Austin have his toil to him reserved. 
 Therefore he was a rider hard and right ; 
 Greyhounds he had, as swift as birds in flight ; 
 In riding and in hunting of the hare 
 Was all his pleasure ; costs he v/ould not spare. 
 
298 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 I saw his sleeves well purfled at the hand 
 With rich gray fur, the finest of the land ; 
 And, to keep fast his hood beneath his chin, 
 He had, prepared with gold, a well-wrought pin 
 A loop-knot in the larger end there was. 
 His head was bald, and shone as any glass ; 
 And eke, as tho' anointed, shone his face. - 
 He was a lord full fat and in good case ; 
 His eyes were bright, and rolling in his head, - 
 And shone like furnance of a kitchen-lead ; 
 His boots were soft, his steeds in good array. 
 Now certainly he was a prelate gay ; 
 He was not paUid like a tortured ghost. 
 A fat swan loved he best of any roast. 
 His palfrey was as brown as is a berry 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note, — What a naive satiric humour was Chaucer's !] 
 
THE RAVAGES OF GRENDEL. 
 
 {From " Beowulf.") 
 
 THEN came from the moorland, under mist-moun- 
 tains, 
 Grendel going ; God's ire he bore. 
 Meant the man-scather out of mortals 
 Some one to capture in high-built castle ; 
 Went under welkin, till he the wine-mansion, 
 Gold-hall of warriors, found all garnish'd, 
 Fairly furnish'd ; 'twas not the foremost time 
 That he Hrothgar's home did visit. 
 Not in his life ever, earlier or after,'^ 
 Hardier heroes, hall-thanes he found ! . 
 Came he to the mansion, man wandering, 
 Cut off from comfort ; off came the door, 
 Fire-bounden fast, when with his hand 'twas felt. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note* — This is the central part of the story of Beowulf,] 
 
THE WRATH OF GOD. 
 
 \{From the so-called Ccedmon.) 
 
 IV WILL with deluge drown the people. 
 And ev'ry kind of living creatures, 
 That the air and flood feed and carry, 
 Birds and cattle ; thou shalt find quiet, 
 With sons and children, when the swart waters. 
 Dark death-rivers, drown the people. 
 Wrongful wretches. Go work a wide vessel. 
 Mighty sea-house, on which thou for many shalt 
 Find a rest-room, and right good seat. 
 Each after the kind of earthly creatures. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — There is a majestic swing in this passage about Noah's flood. 
 It is curious to note that the Indian, Greek and Roman mythology 
 we find leferences to some great Deluge in the past. Besides 
 this physical Deluge, who knows how many religious, moral and 
 intellectual deluges have passed over the world ?] 
 
THE PEASANT REVOLT. 
 
 (From Wace.) 
 
 HE had as yet but hardly reign'd, 
 Nor had he yet his dukedom gain'd, 
 When in the land a war arose, 
 Which to the earth much ill should cause. 
 The peasant and the villain breed, 
 Those from the woods and those from mead, — 
 I know not at whose luring word, 
 Nor by whom they were first bestirr'd, — 
 By twenties, thirties, hundreds all 
 Did hold discussions several. 
 They go advising such a speech 
 That, if their end they can but reach,* 
 If they can execute their plan, 
 'Twill be against the wealthy man. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The interest of Wace's •* Brut " is mainly antiquarian. But 
 this passage has a deeper significance : it shows the first growth 
 of the popular spirit of freedom in this country. Remember in 
 our day the Labour Party and the Socialists. Who knows what 
 Divine mission they may yet fulfil ?} 
 
THE TALE OF BRITAIN, LL. i-ii, 
 
 (From Layamon.) 
 
 A PRIEST was in the country, Layamon they 
 ^i^f call'd him : 
 
 Loving to him may God be : he was Leovenath's 
 offspring ; 
 He lived at Emley, at church so lordly, 
 On shores of the Severn — good it beseem' d him — 
 Hard by Radestone ; there his books read he. 
 It came to his mind and in his chief musings. 
 That he would of the English narrate the exploits, 
 What name they were call'd by, and where they came 
 u r^^from, 
 
 Who the English country first did come by. 
 After the deluge, the dire sending of God, 
 That left here nothing found to be living. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — This is a mythic chronicle rather than an epic. But an epic 
 is wanted : could Rudyard Kipling write it ?J 
 
 4 
 
THE BOOKLET OF ORM, LL. i— 16. 
 
 {From Orm.) 
 
 NOW, brother Walter, brother mine, 
 After the flesh's kind ; 
 And brother mine in Christendom 
 Thro' christening and thro' truth ; 
 And brother mine in house of God, 
 
 Yet in the manner third, 
 Because we two have taken both 
 
 A rule-book for our guide, 
 Under canonic hood and life. 
 So as Saint Austin set ; 
 So have I done as thou didst bid. 
 And further'd thee thy will, — 
 I've render'd into English speech 
 
 The Gospel's holy lore. 
 With that small wit which unto me 
 My Gracious Lord hath lent, 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 (Note. — The interest of this poem is more philological than 
 poetical. Notice, however, the absence of rime and the 
 regularity of accent.] 
 
ISAAC AND ESAU. 
 
 {From the Cursor Mundi.) 
 
 SO much hath age now Isaac led, 
 That he in languor lies in bed ; 
 He lacks of sight, I told you all, 
 And on Esau he did call. 
 " Esau, darling^son," he said, 
 " Go, see thy tackle be purvey'd, 
 And strive to run the saw full near, 
 That thou mayst deeply strike me here ; 
 If in my flesh a gash thou make, 
 Gladly would I thereof partake. 
 Darling son, full gladly thou 
 Hast done thy father's will till now ; 
 'Mongst shooters thou art very good, 
 Both in field and in the wood." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Notice the regularity of accent and the introduction of 
 rime in this poem.] 
 
THE NORMAN CONQUEST. 
 
 {From Robert of Gloucester.) 
 
 THUS came the English land into the Norman hand. 
 And then the Normans could not speak aught 
 else but their own speech, 
 And spoke French as they did at home, and their children 
 
 so did teach ; 
 So that the great men of this land, who of their blood 
 
 were sprung, -f;^/v. 
 Hold all the self-same speech, that they took from their 
 
 tongue ; 
 For, unless a man knows French, small honour doth 
 
 he get. 
 But lowly men to EngUsh hold, and to their own language 
 
 yet. 
 I fancy that in all the world there may be countries none 
 That do not hold to their own speech, save England 
 
 all alone. 
 But, men are well aware, to know both speeches well 
 
 it is. 
 For, the more a man doth know, worth all the more 
 
 he is. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Here we see the old English and the Norman streams 
 uniting to form the great river of English literature. Side by- 
 side with this we see the formation of the great river of the 
 English nation.] 
 
 W 
 
|THE VOYAGE OF THE TROJANS. 
 
 {From Robert Manning of Botmte,) 
 
 WHAT time the Trojans were all dight 
 With sail upon the mast upright, 
 With anchor, oar and other ware, 
 And they were ready all to fare, 
 When well to them the wind was lent. 
 They took their leave, and forth they went. 
 When they to sail did all prepare. 
 Three hundred ships were counted there 
 And four besides, so goes the tale. 
 When from the Gregeys they did sail. 
 Two days they sail'd, and evenings twain, 
 But land nor haven could they gain ; 
 The third day in the eventide, 
 In Leogise they gan to ride. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note.— Robert Manning closely imitated Wace in the first half of 
 his "Chronicle," from which this extract is taken. This 
 suggests a theme for the future iSneid of England.] 
 
THE OWL AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 
 
 {From Master Nicholas.) 
 
 THE nightingale upon this word 
 Was well-nigh out of patience stirr*d^ 
 And thought all eager in her mood. 
 If something else she understood, 
 If she could anything but sing, 
 That might have help'd the other thing. 
 To this an answer she must find. 
 Or altogether be behind, 
 And it is very hard to fight 
 What's very true and very right. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 {Note. — This poem is the first example in English of a eoafest io 
 
A MORAL ODE. 
 
 FULL often God doth thank him more, that giveth 
 to Him less ; 
 For, all His works and all His gifts they are in 
 righteousness. 
 A little gift is dear to God, that cometh of good will ; 
 He little gives for mickle vow, when all the heart is ill. 
 Both heaven and earth He oversees, His eyes are e'er 
 
 so bright, 
 And sun and moon and heaven and fire are gloom 
 
 against His Ught. 
 To Him is nothing dark or hid, so much He hath of 
 
 might ; 
 There is no deed in darkness done, in e'er so dark a night, 
 He knows the thought, and knows the deed, of ev'ry 
 
 living wight. 
 There is no lord like Christ, no king such as our Saviour 
 
 right. 
 Both heaven and earth and all that is are lock'd up in 
 
 His hand ; 
 He does whate'er He wills to do on water and on land. 
 He made the fishes in the sea, the fowl upon the air. 
 He guards and governs all that is, and shaped all 
 
 creatures fair. 
 He was the first of all that is, and will be without end ; 
 His presence is in ev'ry place, whichever way we wend. 
 He is above, and is below, before us and behind ; 
 The man who works the will of God, Him ev'rywhere 
 
 may find. 
 
 September, 1908." 
 
 [Note. — There is a splendid swing in every line of this didactic 
 ode : it not only teaches, but also pleases.] 
 
A GHASEL ON WORLDLY WISDOM. 
 
 (From Leuthold.) 
 
 WITH men too moral bear I not : 
 For such a rabble care I not. 
 Their calumny I give not back : 
 With such a weapon dare I not. 
 But were the sword of wit to flash, 
 Then such a battle fear I not. 
 I always go mine own, own way : 
 My deeds with tears repair I not. 
 A cup of wine, a lovely girl : 
 For all the others care I not. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — Notice the beauty of the ghasel, a metre of Persian 
 origin. Compare the following lines from Fitz-Gerald's '* Omar 
 Khayyam " : 
 
 " Come, fill the Cup, and in the Fire of Spring 
 The Winter Garment of Repentance fling: 
 
 The Bird of Time has but a little way 
 To fly — and Lo ! the bird is on the wing." 
 Compare also Richard Le Gallienne's lines : 
 
 ♦' Nay ! think no more, but giip the slender waist."] 
 
LOVE LOCKED UP. 
 
 THOU mine own, 
 I thine own : 
 This to thee 
 Should be known. 
 Shut up thou art 
 Within my heart : 
 Lost is now the little key : 
 Thou must ever in it be. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 {NoTK.^-Tibere are hundreds of such gems in German literature 
 see a few of them in Max Miiller's " German Texts."] 
 
I 
 
 I 
 
 LOVE NOT TO BE BETRAYED. 
 
 SACRED yearning — it is good ; 
 It can give a lofty mood. 
 For it shall he ask, 
 Who with truth doth keep it not : 
 He shall be brought to task. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — There is a modern German version of this in Max Mailer's 
 "German Texts."] 
 
LOVE UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE, 
 
 {From Walther von der Vogelweide.) 
 
 UNDER the linden-tree. 
 On the plain, 
 
 Where for us twain a bed there was, 
 There may ye look and see, 
 Nice the twain, 
 
 Sprent bloom of flowers and wither'd grass. 
 By the forest in a vale. 
 Hey ding-a-ding ! 
 Nicely sang the nightingale. 
 
 I came as I did wend 
 
 To the lea, 
 
 My lover there was come before. 
 
 There as his girl and friend 
 
 Took he me, 
 
 So I am happy evermore. 
 
 Kiss'd he me ? A thousandfold ! 
 
 Hey ding a-ding ! 
 
 Wax'd how red my face, behold. 
 
 There he had made erewhile. 
 
 Richly dight, 
 
 A bed with bloom of blossoms wrought ; 
 
 To think of it we smile 
 
 In our sprite. 
 
 Should anyone come to that spot. 
 
 By the roses well he may, 
 
 Hey ding a-ding ! 
 
 Mark where intertwined we lay. 
 
LOVE UNDER THE LINDEN-TREE. 313 
 
 That he by me did lie, 
 
 Might one know — 
 
 Forbid it God — so shames it me. 
 
 What he with me did try, 
 
 No one, oh, 
 
 Shall ever know, but I and he, 
 
 And a pretty birdling fair. 
 
 Hey ding-a-ding ! 
 
 That can keep its faith for e'er. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 [Note. — This is the most melodious love song in Vogelweide,] 
 
GRITTY'S SONG. 
 
 (From Goethe.) 
 
 M 
 
 Y repose is gone, ' 
 My heart is sore , 
 I shall find that never 
 And nevermore. 
 
 If I have him not, 
 The grave I've got ; 
 The world is all 
 To me but gall. 
 
 My piteous head 
 Is all too rack'd, 
 My piteous sense 
 Is aU too crack' d. 
 
 My repose is gone, 
 My heart is sore ; 
 I shall find that never 
 And nevermore. 
 
 To see him only 
 From window I dart, 
 To see him only 
 Out I start. 
 
 His lofty gait, 
 
 His stature so high, 
 
 And his mouth in laughter,'- 
 
 And the power of his eye, 
 
315 GRITXrSSONG, 
 
 And eke his speech's 
 Magic flow, 
 His clasp of hand, 
 And kisses — oh ! 
 
 My repose is gone, 
 My heart is sore, 
 I shall find that never 
 And nevermore. 
 
 My bosom urged 
 Towards him goes ; 
 Ah, might I clasp him 
 And hold him close ! 
 
 And kiss him too, 
 As much I would ; 
 Upon his kisses 
 Expire I should ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Every line of this beautifully constructed song has the 
 power to touch a chord in our hearts.] 
 
BEATRICE. 
 
 (From Dante), 
 
 THERE morning had been made, and evening here, 
 Almost by yonder pass ; and all was white 
 That half, and black the other half of sphere, 
 When Beatrice on the left did light ; 
 I saw her roU'd, and at the sun agaze ; 
 An eagle ne'er so fixt on it her sight. 
 And as a second ray is wont to blaze 
 From out the first, and up to rearise, 
 Like pilgrim who would fain his steps retrace, 
 So from her action, molten thro' the eyes 
 In mine imagination, mine I caught, 
 And fixt eyes sunward in unwonted guise. 
 There much is lawful quite, that here is not 
 Unto our powers, by virtue of the place 
 Especial for the human species wrought. 
 Not long I bore it, nor so short a space, 
 But I beheld it sparkle forth and turn. 
 As iron melting comes from fire apace. 
 And suddenly it seem'd that morn to morn 
 Was added, as if He Who hath the might 
 Did with another sun the heaven adorn. 
 All Beatrice stood with fix^d sight 
 Upon the wheel etern, and I on her 
 Did fix my look, far sunder'd from the height ; 
 So at her aspect inly did I veer, 
 As Glaucus did on tasting of the herb 
 That made him all the other sea-gods* peer. 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — If to be linked inseparably with an immortal be 
 immortality, what a glorious immortality is Beatrice's ! Is it 
 much inferior to Sappho's ?] 
 
THE YOUNG WIDOW. 
 
 (From La Fontaine), 
 
 A HUSBAND lost ne'er goes without a sigh of 
 pain : 
 
 One makes a lot of noise, and then forgets one's woe, 
 Upon the wings of Time, away the sorrows go : 
 
 Time brings the pleasures back again. 
 
 Between a year-long widow gay 
 
 And the sad widow of a day 
 The difference is great : you never would suppose 
 
 That 'twas the self-same person now ; 
 The one makes people flee, great charms the other shows : 
 Of sighs, sincere or false, that one doth take her vow ; 
 'Tis always the same note, the same discourse for e'er. 
 
 They say that consolations fail : 
 
 They say so, but there's nothing there. 
 
 As you shall see by this my tale, 
 
 Or rather by the truth more strong. 
 
 The husband of a beauty young 
 Left for the other world. All by his side his wife 
 Cried to him : " Wait for me, I follow thee ; my life, 
 Is ready, like thine own, away from hence to go." 
 
 The husband wends his way alone. 
 The fair one had a sire, a man for prudence known : 
 
 He let her sorrow's torrent flow : 
 
 And at the last, to soothe her woe, 
 " My girl," he said to her, ** too much of tears you shed : 
 Ah, wherefore should you drown your sweet charms for 
 
 the dead ? 
 Since there are livinpj men, think of the dead no more. 
 
3i8 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 I do not say, some early day 
 
 A happier condition may 
 
 In wedding change these yearnings sore ; 
 But when some time is past, then to you let me bring 
 A husband fair, well-made, young, ev'ry other thing 
 
 Like your dead husband. " * * Ah !" as soon said she» 
 
 " A cloister is the spouse for me." 
 Her father lets her brook her fortune's evil grace. Jj| 
 
 A month like that doth go apace. ™ 
 
 The next month, she's employ 'd in changing ev*ry day 
 Something about the dress, the linen, or her hair ; 
 
 The mourning serves for show full fair. 
 
 Awaiting other costumes gay. 
 
 Then all the Loves in their array 
 To the dove-cot return ; the Games, the Smiles, the Ball, 
 
 Have also at their last turn : 
 
 There is a rush both eve and morn 
 
 Into the Fount of Youth to fall. 
 The father fears no more that cherish'd husband dead ; 
 But as he nothing spake unto our lady gay, 
 
 " Where's now the husband young," she said, 
 
 " That you did promise me, I pray ? " 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — I almost see the sly poet laughing in his sleeve behind 
 this delightful poem.] 
 
THE TWO MARRIED WOMEN AND 
 THE WIDOW. 
 
 {From Dunbar), 
 
 UPON the Midsummer evening, merriest of nigkts, 
 I moved forth alone, near as midnight was past, 
 Beside a goodly green garth, full of gay flowers. 
 Hedged, of a huge height, with hawthorn trees;. 
 Whereon a bird on a branch so burst out in notes 
 That never a bUther bird upon the bough was heard ; 
 What thro' the sugar'd sound of her glad song. 
 And thro' the wholesome savour of the sweet flowers, 
 I drew at dusk to the ditch to lurk after joys ; 
 The dew drench'd the dale, and ding'd the birds* 
 
 I heard, under a holly heavenly green-hued, 
 A high speech at my hand, with haughty words; 
 Thereat in haste to the hedge so hard I press' d in, 
 That I was held by the hawthorn and by handsonfie 
 
 leaves ;. 
 Thro' prickles of plaited thorn I presently lookt. 
 If any person would approach me in that pleasant garden 
 
 I saw three ladies sit in a green arbour. 
 All gay with garlands of fresh goodly flowers ; 
 So glitter'd, as they were gold, their glorious gilt tresses, 
 While all the grass did gleam with the glad hues ; 
 Comb'd was their clear hair, and carefully shed 
 About their shoulders sheer down, shining full bright. 
 With kerchiefs, cast above them, of crape clear and thin ; 
 Their mantles were green as the grass that grew in May 
 season, 
 
320 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Fastened with their white fingers about their fair sides ; 
 
 Of wonderful fine features were their faces meek, 
 
 All full of flowering beauty, as flowers in June ; 
 
 White, seemly, and soft, as the sweet lilies. 
 
 Newly spread on the spray ; as newly blossom'd rose, 
 
 Array'd royally about with much rich verdure, 
 
 That Nature full nobly enamell'd with flowers 
 
 Of ev'ry hue under heaven that any expert knew; 
 
 Fragrant, all full of fresh odour, finest of smell. 
 
 A marble table cover'd there was before these three 
 
 ladies, 
 With royal cups in rows full of rich wines : 
 And, of these fair women, two were wedded to lords, 
 One was a widow, I wot, wanton of manners. 
 And, as they talk'd at the table many a tale invented, 
 They watch'd the strong wine, and warr'd with words ; 
 And then they spake more speedily, and spared no topics. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Oh, the proverbial garrulity of females ! In the older Edda 
 the habit extends even to goddesses : 
 
 ** Soon the gods were gather'd in council. 
 And goddesses given to speeches." 
 Dunbar's alliterative verses compare unfavourably with Langland's 
 in point of true melody, but the beauty of his imagery makes up 
 for this defect.] 
 
KING HEART. 
 
 (From Douglas). 
 
 KING Heart, within his comely castle strong 
 Enclosed about with craft and mighty care. 
 So seemly was he set his folk among, 
 No dread he had of dire misfortune there ; 
 So proudly was he polish'd, plain, and fair, 
 With youth and all his lusty life so green ; 
 So fair, so fresh, so likely to last e'er, 
 And eke so blithe as bird in summer sheen. 
 
 For, he was never yet with showers shot, 
 Nor yet o'errun with mist or any rain ; 
 In all his beauteous body not a spot ; 
 He never had experience of pain. 
 But pleasure evermore, to tell you plain ; 
 Only to love and perfect gentleness 
 Inclined he was, full clearly to remain 
 And bide beneath the wing of wantonness. 
 
 And yet this worthy King was under ward, 
 
 And he was not at perfect liberty. 
 
 Nature had order' d folk for their reward 
 
 This goodly King to govern carefully ; 
 
 And so they used their time full warily 
 
 In winning wealth ; and him they wish'd to teach 
 
 All lusts to love and serve full loyally ; 
 
 And privily they praised him and did preach. 
 
 First Strength, then Carnal Bliss, and Wantonness, 
 Raw Lust, Free Frolic, Envy, Jealousy, 
 Fresh Greed, New Fashion, Waste, and Wilfulness, 
 Foolhardiness, and eke Agility, 
 
 X 
 
322 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 Praise, Freedom, Secret Watch, and Courtesy, 
 
 Vainglory, Folly, and Improvidence, 
 
 Unrest, Nightwalk, and Wicked Gluttony, 
 
 Dim Sight, Wrongdoing, Sleight, and Subtle Sense. 
 
 These were the inner servants, busy e'er, 
 
 The constant guardians of this noble King ; 
 
 They kept him all inclined unto their care ; 
 
 So there was not on earth a single thing 
 
 That one of these away from home might bring. 
 
 Thus to their terms they served for their reward, 
 
 With dancing, sporting, singing, reveUing, 
 
 All blithe, their business but to please the lord. 
 
 These folk, with all the household at their call, 
 Whose number was one million and still more, 
 Who were for long uprear'd as servants all. 
 To share this king's good luck and fortune sore, 
 For favour nor for food would leave his door, 
 Unto the time their date be run and past : 
 Nor gold nor goods could make them give him o'er, 
 Nor grief nor pain should make them so aghast 
 
 Five servants also had this King without, 
 Who were taught always treason to espy ; 
 They ever watch'd the walls all round about 
 For foemen that might happen to come by : 
 One for the day, who judged full certainly 
 To ken with care the colour of all hue ; 
 One for the night, who hearken'd readily 
 Out of what air the winds for ever blew. 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — I admire Douglas's ken into "the abysmal d^^eps of 
 personality" which Tennyson mentions in his *' Palace of 
 Art."] 
 
THE POOR MAN AND THE 
 
 PARDONER. 
 
 (From Sir David Lyndsay), 
 
 (Shoemaker), 
 
 WELCOME home, Robert Rome-raker, 
 Our holy patent pardoner ! 
 If you have dispensation 
 To part me and my wicked wife. 
 And make me free from pain and strife, 
 I make you suppHcation. 
 
 (Pardoner). 
 1*11 part you, but I more demand, 
 So I get money in my hand : 
 Therefore, some coin let see.* 
 
 (Shoemaker). 
 I have no silver, by my life ! 
 But shillings five, and a shaping knife : 
 That shall you have full free. 
 
 (Pardoner). 
 What kind of woman is thy wife ? 
 
 (Shoemaker). 
 A living Devil, a storm of strife. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 f *iOTi!. — Lyndsay was the first great satirist of Scotland. Scott 
 ^pays a tribute to him in his '• Marmion."] 
 
LITTLE HAVELOK AND OLD GRIM. 
 
 {From the Lay of Havelok the Dane). 
 
 (( f\OT> knows! " quoth Grim, "this is our heir 
 %J Who shall reign in Denmark long ; 
 
 He shall be a king full strong ; 
 He shall hold within his hand 
 AH !3eftmark and the English land ; 
 Groddard he to woe shall drive, 
 Shall hang or flay him all alive, 
 Or give him soon a living grave, 
 And him no mercy then shall save.*' 
 So said Old Grim, and wept full sore, 
 And soon he fell his feet before, 
 And said : " My lord, have mercy thou 
 On me and Leve beside me now. 
 Thine, my lord, we both shall be, 
 We thy servants true to thee. 
 Thee, my lord, full well we'll feed, 
 Till thou canst ride upon a steed. 
 Till thou with perfect ease canst bear 
 Helm on head, and shield and spear. 
 He shall never, surely, know, — 
 Goddard, who betray'd thee so. 
 Lord, thro' other man than thee 
 Never shall I freeman be. 
 Thou shalt make me free, my lord, 
 For I shall keep thee watch and ward ; 
 Thro' thee will I my freedom gain." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Is not old Grim like old Adam in Shakespeare^'s ''As 
 You Like It "?] 
 
HORN AND RIMENHILD. 
 {From the Gest of King Horn) 
 
 HE went his way aright 
 To Rimenhild the bright ; 
 On his knees he fell, 
 And greeted her full well. 
 Thro' his beauteous might 
 All the bower grew bright. 
 He spake a beauteous speech, 
 And no one him might teach 
 " Well thou sittest mild, 
 Rimenhild, King's child. 
 With thy six maidens free. 
 Seated near to thee. 
 By the steward taught. 
 Here thy bower T sought ; 
 With thee must I speak ; 
 Whatso thou dost seek, 
 Tell me ; I shall still 
 Listen to thy will." 
 Up Rimenhild did stand. 
 And took him by the hand ; 
 On a cloth she placed 
 Wine to fill his taste ; 
 Him joyous she did make, 
 And by the neck did take. 
 Often him she kiss'd. 
 So well as she did list. 
 
326 ECHOES FROM EAST AND WEST. 
 
 " Horn," said she, " without strife, 
 Me shalt thou take to wife ; 
 Horn, on me have ruth, 
 And pledge to me thy truth." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTi. — ^The Gest of King Horn is a typical romance of the 
 Teutonic and Anglo-Danish cycle in French reproduced in 
 Middle English.] 
 
LUCRETIAN PLEASURE. 
 
 (From Lucretius). 
 
 SWEET, on the sea all vasty the winds agitating the 
 levels. 
 Safely from land to behold some other's terrible 
 
 danger ; 
 Not that it is a dehght and a pleasure that any be 
 
 troubled, 
 But it is sweet to espy what ills thou happily scapest ! 
 Fairly array* d on the field, wherein thou shares t no peril, 
 Sweet it is also to eye and to note great struggles of 
 
 battle ; 
 But nought sweeter is there, than to hold full firmly the 
 
 strongholds, 
 Raised full high by the lore of the wise, those peaceable 
 
 temples, 
 Whence thou canst look down on the others, and notice 
 
 them widely 
 Roving, and going astray in the search of a tenour of 
 
 living, 
 Vying with power of wit, contending with order and title, 
 Striving by day and by night with a mighty and wonder- 
 ful effort 
 Ever to rise to the summit of wealth and be wielders of 
 
 all things ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — How powerful are the last seven lines ! If this is Lucretian 
 pleasure, whai mu^l have been the Shakcsperian pleasure, lo coin 
 a phrase ! Shakespeare not only " locked down on the others,'* 
 he also looked into ihem : and we can only imagine t-ach for one- 
 self how much of us Shakespeare saw ! Kemt^mber the testimony 
 of Ben Jon^on. Milton, Matthew Arnold, and Swii.bume. 
 Than to hold firmly the strongholds — Tne original is: "bene 
 quam munufa, tenere " ; Munro translates : " than to hold the 
 . . . positions well fortified." I prefer to take "bene" with 
 " tenere."] 
 
GOOD AND BAD THOUGHTS, 
 
 {From the Dhammapada). 
 
 OUR natures all proceed from thought, 
 In thought they lie, all thought they are ; 
 If with a thought with evil fraught 
 Or words or deeds one doth unbar, 
 Then one by pain is chased and sought, 
 As is the best by wheel of car. 
 
 Our natures all proceed from thought, 
 In thought they lie, all thought they are ; 
 If with a thought with goodness fraught 
 Or words or deeds one doth unbar. 
 Then one by bliss is chased and sought, 
 As by one's shadow going far. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Observe the construction of these twin sestets. There 
 a fine prose translation of the Dhanaraapada by Max Muller. 
 
DEOR'S LAMENT. 
 {From an Old English lyric) 
 
 W ELAND thro' many wot a vengeance, 
 Firm-minded man, miseries bore, 
 Had for companions pain and longing, 
 Winter-cold vengeance : woe oft he found. 
 When on him Nithad did lay a need-wound. 
 Grievous gashes giving the man 
 That was gone thro', this too so may ! 
 
 Beadohild was not, for her brother's death. 
 In soul so sore as for her injured self. 
 That she patiently had experienced, 
 That she offspring bore : ever she could not 
 Think of her trouble, how she must take it. 
 That was gone thro', this too so may ! 
 
 We of Hild's honour much have hearken'd ; 
 Grew unfathom'd the Goth's misfortune, 
 That his sore longing robb'd him of sleep. 
 That was gone thro', this too so may ! 
 
 Theodoric bided thirty winters 
 
 'Midst Maerings' town : that to many was known. 
 
 That was gone thro', this too may ! 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The reading here adopted is that of Wulcker's edition of 
 Grein's " Bibliothek der Angelsachsischen Poesie " : the text 
 should be read with the help of Grein's " Sprachschatz der 
 Angelsachsischen Dichter " and Bosworth's and Toller's 
 *• Anglo-Saxon Dictionary." This is the only poem in Old 
 English in strophic form, with a refrain.] 
 
ADAM AND EVE. 
 
 {From the Old Saxon Genesis 
 
 AH now, Eve, thou hast," quoth Adam, " mark'd 
 out for evil 
 Our living selves. Now mayst thou see this 
 swarthy hell 
 Gape greedily ; now thou her ghastly din 
 Hence mayst hearken ; never heaven-land is 
 Like hell-place loathsome ; that was of all lands sheenest, 
 That we thro' our Househead's grace might have held 
 
 yet; 
 There Him thou heardst not, Who to us this harm forbade, 
 So we the World- Ruler's word frustrated, 
 Heaven's King's orders." 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — The relation of the Old English Genesis " B " to the Old 
 Saxon Genesis is a highly interesting point; see Kogel's 
 "Geschichte der Deutschen I.itteratur" and Braune's 
 "Bruchstiicke" together with Sievers' " Der Heliand und die 
 Angelsachsische Genesis."] 
 
A FALLEN MAN AND A FALLEN 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 {From Propertius). 
 
 OFT as a blame at my door thou layest my longing 
 for pleasure : 
 Trust me, on you, ladies, mightier power it 
 wields. 
 Once ye have hated and broken asunder the bridle of 
 honour, 
 Then no Umits ye know unto the madness of mind< 
 
 , September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — These verses sum up [the whole difiference between the 
 sexes.] 
 
A SATIRE ON DRUNKEN FROLICS. 
 
 (From Varro). 
 
 J AX then doth think, with a sword he is cutting 
 Ulysses, 
 
 When in his rage thro' woods he is rushing and 
 butchering porkers, 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTB. — It is highly interesting to note that the Greek satirist 
 Menippos of Gadara was imitated first by Lucian in his 
 " 2'7roL>8o7€X-afc09 Meviiriro^" then by Varro in his 
 "Satyrae Menippeae," from which the present extract is 
 taken, and lastly by the French authors of "La Satyrc 
 M6njpp6e." For a description of the nature of this kind of 
 satire, see Teuflfel's "History of Roman Literature" and 
 Henri Van Laun's '* History of French Literature."] 
 
THE POETS IMMORTALITY. 
 
 {From Horace), 
 
 I'VE rear'd a monument, more lasting far than brass, 
 And more than kingly site of pyramids sublime. 
 
 Which neither biting rain, nor powerless blast of 
 North, 
 May cause to tumble down, nor aU the numberless 
 Succession of the years, and all the seasons' flight. 
 I shall not wholly die ; a mighty part of me 
 Shall scape the burial. Full oft in future folk's 
 Praise shall I be renew'd, whiles up the Capitol, 
 Led by the holy maid all silent, cUmbs the priest 
 I shall be named, where sounds the rapid Aufidus, 
 And where, all poorly bless'd with water, Daunus ruled 
 Over a rustic folk, I raised from low degree, 
 As one who first did lead iEolian verses on 
 To sweet Italian tunes. Assume the lofty pride 
 Thy worth hath sought and found, and with the Delphic 
 
 bays 
 Entwine me willingly, O mournful Muse, my hair. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — Nothing is so charming as this self-conceit of one whom 
 posterity has declared to be immortal.] 
 
THE POETASTER'S MADNESS. 
 
 (From Persius). 
 
 (Persius). 
 'HOU, old man, dost find a repast for the hearing of 
 ;=- others ? 
 Hearing, to which thou mayst say, bursting with 
 vanity, " Hold now " ! 
 
 (The Adversary). 
 What was thy lore for, unless this leaven, and flowering 
 
 fig-tree. 
 Once deep-rooted in thee, could burst thro' thy liver and 
 
 shoot forth ? 
 
 (Persius), 
 Look at thy wanness and age ! Oh manners ! Nothing 
 
 at all, then, 
 Nothing thy knowledge, unless it be known to another, 
 
 thou knowest ? 
 
 (The Adversary).^ 
 But it is fine to be shown with the finger and named 
 
 with a "Here's he!" 
 Thou by a full hundred curl'd heads wert studied and 
 
 got up, 
 This thou reckest at nought ? 
 
 (Persius). 
 Look, over their goblets they ask you, 
 Romulus* folk well-fill'd, what's told in the heavenly 
 
 poems. 
 Here some one, with a close hyacinthine raiment on 
 shoulders. 
 
THE POETASTER'S MADNESS. 335 
 
 Some song musty and rank thro* a nose that snuffles 
 a-speaking, 
 
 Phyllises, Hypsipeles, eke any lamentable poem, 
 Sputters forth, and with soft palate full trippingly 
 
 mumbles. 
 Heroes have whisper'd assent ; now are not ashes of poet 
 Blest ? and a tomb-stone's weight is it not less heavy on 
 
 dry-bones ? 
 Guests assembled applaud : now out of his whimpering 
 r'*^^- 'shadow. 
 
 Now all out of his tomb, eke out of his fortunate ashes. 
 Will not violets spring ? 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [Note. — I prefer this cutting satire of Persius to the " Dunciad " 
 of Pope.] 
 
THE POETS KINDRED SOUL. 
 
 {From Bhavabhuti). 
 
 WHOEVER they may be, that spread my name in 
 deep despite, 
 Somehow they know that for their sake this 
 effort is not meant ; 
 There will arise, there is some person with a kindred 
 
 sprite. 
 For, Time is limitless, and very wide the Earth's extent. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
 [NoTK. — Time and the Earth have found Bhavabhuti many a 
 kindred soul; he has been given the second place in the 
 Sanskrit drama. He is to Kalidasa what Ben Johnson is to 
 Shakespeare ; and the parallelism is significant, as he was " all 
 steeped in learning."] 
 
STRAY NOTES OF MINE 
 OWN. 
 
OSPRICH mir nicht von jener bun ten Menge, 
 Bei deren Anblick uns der Geist entfiieht. 
 Verhiille mir das wogende Gedrange, 
 Das wider Willen uns zum Strudel zieht. 
 Nein, fuhre mich zur stillen Himmelsenge, 
 Wo nur dem Dichter reine Freude bliiht ; 
 Wo Lieb' und Freundschaft unsres Herzens Segen 
 Mit Gotterhand erschaffen und erpflegen. 
 
 (O tell me not of yonder many gleaming, 
 
 Upon whose sight our spirit takes to flight. 
 
 Hide from my view the crowd in billows streaming, 
 
 That forces us unto the eddy right. 
 
 No, lead me to the stilly nook redeeming. 
 
 Where round the poet blooms a pure delight ; 
 
 Where Love and Friendship for our hearts a blessing 
 
 With godly hand still shape and keep caressing.) 
 
THE OLD FORTRESS. 
 
 (Homeric Rhythms), 
 
 HERE is the old fortress ; the remains of a town 
 and the ruins 
 Left by a lone rampart, long centuries old, yet 
 amazing. 
 Yet with a beauty serene exposing the hand of the 
 
 workers, 
 Lie in a heap, in a crumbled heap, half -hid in the twilight. 
 Down from a deep rock-hollow the fuU-foamed thimder- 
 
 ing river 
 Falls, and in woful accord makes plaint with the 
 querulous woodlands. 
 
 Here is the old fortress ; but alas for the hearts that 
 
 upon it 
 Fought for their own hearth-stone and the hallow*d 
 
 dwelling of fathers. 
 Fought but to suffer and sicken and labour and die to 
 
 the last man ! 
 Ah for the old fortress, cherished by the perishing 
 
 warriors. 
 Razed to the dust, to the thankless dust, by the ruffian 
 
 forces ! 
 Never, O never again, may be seen such a ghastly 
 
 enaction ! 
 
 May, 1900. 
 
THE ROSE. 
 
 (A trioUt.)] 
 
 IS it a' for nocht, for nocht, 
 That I lo'e thee, rosie 
 O thy lips o' lurid hue 
 Gleamin', glowrin' wi' the dew 
 That upo' them sits anew, 
 Mind me o' my Posie ! 
 Is it a' for nocht, for nocht, 
 That I lo'e thee, rosie ? 
 
 June, 1901. 
 
I 
 
 THE REFUSAL. 
 
 SPAK to her, " O be na stirr^ 
 
 My ain, my winsome dearie " ; 
 
 I spak to her, " O tell me, fair, 
 
 Why looks' thou unco' weary ? " 
 But Meg she utter'd not a word, 
 
 But Meg she gi'ed no blushin' 
 On face and cheek that wax sae sleek 
 
 As dreams o' luve come rushin*. 
 O aft and after, bonnie bird, 
 
 My fancies o'er thee huver ; 
 Gin thou but say that waefu' ** nay," 
 
 Then thou has' killM thy luver ! 
 
 June, 1901. 
 
A SONNET ON ''PARADISE LOST.' 
 
 O HEAVENLY lays of holy bard divine ! 
 O tale of seraphs fiery-winged : flown 
 From Milton's lips in gushing gorgeous tone 
 Waked by Urania, whom the tuneful Nine, 
 Sky-dyed, with Phoebus seated in a line 
 On Pamass high by gurgUng HeUcon, 
 Or Indian Vani on her lotus-throne, 
 Could hardly foil in grace of numbers fine ! 
 More than Maeonidean songs ! ye lays 
 Deathless ! these ears how often did ye greet 
 With whispers from your Sion truth-ablaze ! 
 How often did ye with your Ughtnings sweet 
 Lead forth these faltering mortal eyes to gaze 
 On deathless regions trod by deathless feet ! 
 
 February, 1902. 
 
 « 
 
TO A LYRIC POET. 
 
 HOW sweet ! how sweet ! how sweet ! 
 The fountains of a lyric soul, 
 With rainbow hues aglow, 
 In diamond rillets flow — 
 In diamond rills of music fleet, 
 That bicker as they flash from knoll to knolL 
 
 With what a charm divine 
 The pretty pretty rimelets fall ! 
 The pretty pretty rimes, 
 In merry silver chimes. 
 Full-foaming in that soul of thine, 
 Thou poet of the heart majestical. 
 
 O pour thee out, sweet bard 
 So Shelley-like ! and let me know 
 
 What secret gush of thought 
 
 Hath been thy happy lot 
 To find, to guide, from dust to guard, 
 And sprinkle forth in such a fountain-flow. 
 
 Since buds my dawn did wake 
 Appear'd to thee ** so fine and grand," 
 And since thy muse divine 
 Scom'd not to flatter mine. 
 Then take, O gifted comrade, take 
 This dewy wreath from thine own Rob/s hand. 
 
 February, 1902. 
 
w 
 
 TO A WORDSWORTHIAN. 
 
 ORDSWORTH ! or who ? I know not, friend, 
 In what rich language to extol 
 The music flowing from thy soul 
 In strains of perfect homely blend — 
 
 In strains of lusty native song, 
 
 That all the ways of Nature show, 
 And with a wealth of Fancy glow, 
 
 That I would have them linger long, 
 
 And cheer me with their gushing sound 
 
 (For sounds like these have cheer'd me still 
 And lent mine eager soul its fill 
 
 Of thought and dream and bUss profound). 
 
 And teach me all the glow divine 
 
 And all the " native feeUng strong " 
 That bicker up like gold and throng 
 
 That tender tender heart of thine. 
 
 Sweet poet ! — O how fain would I 
 
 Beside thee stay and lean mine ear 
 Unto thy wisdom flowing clear 
 
 In strains that, ringing, may not die ; 
 
 So I could feel — ^if soul like this 
 
 Could catch the music of thy soul — 
 The echoes rich that from thee roll 
 
 In pure Wordsworthian mood of bliss. 
 
 February, 1902. 
 
 i 
 
TO A POET-PAINTER. 
 
 OTHOU, whose mellow-sounding whispers are 
 As of a leaf by Zephyr newly kiss'd, 
 Bright angel, — stay ; and, while the liquid breeze 
 Showers all its wealth of incense on thy locks 
 New-kindhng into ringlets bright, accept 
 Such gift as from the rustic hand doth fall 
 In honour to a heavenly guest, that sings 
 Of joy Elysian in another sky, 
 Rich, lightning-like, serene, we know not what, 
 So fair and weird it seems ! accept, and touch 
 Once more with tune divine these trembling ears 
 That lean to catch thy song. Then, when my soul 
 Is steep' d in music flashing drop by drop 
 Into the sense enchanted, O arise. 
 Fair guest ; and in a cloud of golden fire 
 Wing upward to thy poet-painter's heaven, 
 And leave us, sons of earth, in wonder mute 
 Upgazing at thy fadeless form divine 
 And weeds of heavenly dye, which never change 
 With changes swift of ever-veering Time. 
 
 February, 1902 
 
A PROTHALAMIUM. 
 
 A SECRET flash upon the lip— 
 A flicker in the soul within — 
 A glistening ray athwart the eye 
 Awaken'd by the jocund din- 
 'A tender feeling that doth dip 
 ^ The future in a rosy Hght 
 And send up unto Love on high 
 
 The worship of a heart-dew bright — 
 Such, such are thine ; no frost may nip 
 
 The blossoms of this bridal day 
 That chain thee in a hallow'd tie 
 
 To her, thy heart's companion gay. 
 
 May, 1902. 
 
A MELODY. 
 
 O SWEET the hymn and tune, 
 O sweet the song of June ; 
 O mellow, mellow, mellow still 
 Flows the panting panting rill ; 
 Over sand and over dune 
 
 Singing, ringing, dancing, glancing flows the rill, 
 Merrily, merrily, merrily down the hill 
 
 June, 1902. 
 
CONSCIENCE. 
 
 SPEAK louder, louder to the trembling soul, 
 O Nymph Divine ; come, Harbinger of Truth, 
 Long-sought, long-flying Harbinger of Truth, 
 Come, let us nearer — ^nearer — ^face to face. 
 One flash of mellow lightning from thine eyes 
 Here shed upon the heart ; ah, cheat me not, 
 A weary wanderer in the paths of life, 
 A pilgrim faltering ; come, thine aid extend. 
 Thee, holy Nymph Divine, thee men adore — 
 Conscience thy name. Queen Duty*s other self. 
 Thou Child of Will, thou mute yet solenm Voice, 
 God*s Vicereine in the heart. O welcome thou ! 
 
 November, 1902. 
 
AN OCEAN-SCENE. 
 
 NOW on the trembling main, half freak'd with stars. 
 Half garlanded with scuds of mangled weeds, 
 The light-blue waves, wallowing and weltering. 
 Make and remake deep hollows, intervolved 
 In volumes wide of fiame-encumber'd foam 
 That topples over ! Jove on Neptune smiles ! 
 
 November, 1902. 
 
TO BRITAIN. 
 
 (A quadruple virelay). 
 
 TO Britain, Queen of all the Seas, 
 Whose Alfred first did show her might, 
 Whose Nelson, strong and bold of sprite. 
 Did waft her fame from breeze to breeze, 
 
 The land where Csedmon saw the Hght, 
 
 Where Chaucer shaped his harmonies.' '^- 
 Whose Shakespeare fathom' d all that is. 
 
 Whose Milton rose to starry height. 
 
 To her whose Ught shall e'er increase, 
 
 Whose might in countless foemen's spite 
 From land to land shall spread aright, 
 
 Whose right to rule shall ne'er decrease. 
 
 To her who ever shall be bright, 
 
 I, prone to perish, offer these . 
 
 Decajdng, dying melodies, 
 I, rushing into endless night. 
 
 September, 1908. 
 
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ru 14277 
 
 34090 
 
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