The Light of Asia

"Yet if they last A myriad years," he said, "they fade at length, Those joys; or if not, is there then some life Below, above, beyond, so unlike life it will not change? Speak! do your Gods endure For ever, brothers?"

"And the end of many aches, Which come unseen, and will come when they come, Is this, a broken body and sad mind, And so old age?"

Also the middle and the outer gates Unfolded each their monstrous portals thus In silence as Siddartha and his steed Drew near; while underneath their shadow lay. Silent as dead men, all those chosen guards-- The lance and sword let fall, the shields unbraced, Captains and soldiers--for there came a wind, Drowsier than blows o'er Malwa's fields of sleep Before the Prince's path, which, being breathed, Lulled every sense aswoon: and so he passed Free from the palace.

A broad mead spreads by swift Kohana's bank At Nagara; five days shall bring a man In ox-wain thither from Benares' shrines Eastward and northward journeying. The horns Of white Himala look upon the place, Which all the year is glad with blooms and girt By groves made green from that bright streamlet's wave. Soft are its slopes and cool its fragrant shades, And holy all the spirit of the spot Unto this time: the breath of eve comes hushed Over the tangled thickets, and high heaps Of carved red stones cloven by root and stem Of creeping fig, and clad with waving veil Of leaf and grass. The still snake glistens forth From crumbled work of lac and cedar-beams To coil his folds there on deep-graven slabs; The lizard dwells and darts o'er painted floors Where kings have paced; the grey fox litters safe Under the broken thrones; only the peaks, And stream, and sloping lawns, and gentle air Abide unchanged. All else, like all fair shows Of life, are fled--for this is where it stood, The city of Suddhodana, the hill Whereon, upon an eve of gold and blue At sinking sun Lord Buddha set himself To teach the Law in hearing of his own.

Then answer made Tripusha: "We have seen That sacred Master, Princess! we have bowed Before his feet; for who was lost a Prince Is found a greater than the King of kings. Under the Bodhi-tree by Phalgu's bank That which shall save the world hath late been wrought By him--the Friend of all, the Prince of all-- Thine most, High Lady! from whose tears men win The comfort of this Word the Master speaks. Lo! he is well, as one beyond all ills, Uplifted as a god from earthly woes, Shining with risen Truth, golden and clear. Moreover as he entereth town by town, Preaching those noble ways which lead to peace, The hearts of men follow his path as leaves Troop to wind or sheep draw after one Who knows the pastures. We ourselves have heard By Gaya in the green Tchirnika grove Those wondrous lips and done them reverence. He cometh hither ere the first rains fall."

Then our Lord, After the manner of a Rishi, hailed The rising orb, and went--ablutions made-- Down by the winding path unto the town; And in the fashion of a Rishi passed From street to street, with begging-bowl in hand, Gathering the little pittance of his needs. Soon was it filled, for all the townsmen cried, "Take of our store, great sir!" and "Take of ours!" Marking his godlike face and eyes enwrapt; And mothers, when they saw our Lord go by, Would bid their children fall to kiss his feet, And lift his robe's hem to their brows, or run To fill his jar, and fetch him milk and cakes. And ofttimes as he paced, gentle and slow, Radiant with heavenly pity, lost in care For those he knew not, save as fellow lives, The dark surprised eyes of some Indian maid Would dwell in sudden love and worship deep On that majestic form, as if she saw Her dreams of tenderest thought made true, and grace Fairer than mortal fire her breast. But he Passed onward with the bowl and yellow robe, By mild speech paying all those gifts of hearts, Wending his way back to the solitudes To sit upon his hill with holy men, And hear and ask of wisdom and its roads.

Within-- Where the moon glittered through the laceworked stone, Lighting the walls of pearl-shell and the floors Paved with veined marble--softly fell her beams On such rare company of Indian girls, It seemed some chamber sweet in Paradise Where Devis rested. All the chosen ones Of Prince Siddartha's pleasure-home were there, The brightest and most faithful of the Court, Each form so lovely in the peace of sleep, That you had said "This is the pearl of all!" Save that beside her or beyond her lay Fairer and fairer, till the pleasured gaze Roamed o'er that feast of beauty as it roams From gem to gem in some great goldsmith-work, Caught by each colour till the next is seen. With careless grace they lay, their soft brown limbs Part hidden, part revealed; their glossy hair Bound back with gold or flowers, or flowing loose In black waves down the shapely nape and neck. Lulled into pleasant dreams by happy toils, They slept, no wearier than jewelled birds Which sing and love all day, then under wing Fold head till morn bids sing and love again. Lamps of chased silver swinging from the roof In silver chains, and fed with perfumed oils, Made with the moonbeams tender lights and shades, Whereby were seen the perfect lines of grace, The bosom's placid heave, the soft stained palms Drooping or clasped, the faces fair and dark, The great arched brows, the parted lips, the teeth Like pearls a merchant picks to make a string, The satin-lidded eyes, with lashes dropped Sweeping the delicate cheeks, the rounded wrists The smooth small feet with bells and bangles decked, Tinkling low music where some sleeper moved, Breaking her smiling dream of some new dance Praised by the Prince, some magic ring to find, Some fairy love-gift. Here one lay full-length, Her vina by her cheek, and in its strings The little fingers still all interlaced As when the last notes of her light song played Those radiant eyes to sleep and sealed her own. Another slumbered folding in her arms A desert-antelope, its slender head Buried with back-sloped horns between her breasts Soft nestling; it was eating--when both drowsed-- Red roses, and her loosening hand still held A rose half-mumbled, while a rose-leaf curled Between the deer's lips. Here two friends had dozed Together, wearing mogra-buds, which bound Their sister-sweetness in a starry chain, Linking them limb to limb and heart to heart, One pillowed on the blossoms, one on her. Another, ere she slept, was stringing stones To make a necklet--agate, onyx, sard, Coral, and moonstone--round her wrist it gleamed A coil of splendid colour, while she held, Unthreaded yet, the bead to close it up Green turkis, carved with golden gods and scripts. Lulled by the cadence of the garden stream, Thus lay they on the clustered carpets, each A girlish rose with shut leaves, waiting dawn To open and make daylight beautiful. This was the antechamber of the Prince; But at the purdah's fringe the sweetest slept-- Gunga and Gotami--chief ministers In that still house of love.

O Maya's son! because we roam the earth Moan we upon these strings; we make no mirth, So many woes we see in many lands, So many streaming eyes and wringing hands.

There flew High overhead that hour five holy ones, Whose free wings faltered as they passed the tree. "What power superior draws us from our flight?" They asked, for spirits feel all force divine, And know the sacred presence of the pure. Then, looking downward, they beheld the Buddh Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent On thoughts to save; while from the grove a voice Cried, "Rishis! this is He shall help the world, Descend and worship." So the Bright Ones came And sang a song of praise, folding their wings, Then journeyed on, taking good news to Gods.

These words the Master spake of duties due To father, mother, children, fellows, friends; Teaching how such as may not swiftly break The clinging chains of sense--whose feet are weak To tread the higher road--should order so This life of flesh that all their hither days Pass blameless in discharge of charities And first true footfalls in the Eightfold Path; Living pure, reverent, patient, pitiful, Loving all things which live even as themselves; Because what falls for ill is fruit of ill Wrought in the past, and what falls well of good; And that by howsomuch the householder Purgeth himself of self and helps the world, By so much happier comes he to next stage, In so much bettered being. This he spake, As also long before, when our Lord walked By Rajagriha in the Bamboo-Grove For on a dawn he walked there and beheld The householder Singala, newly bathed, Bowing himself with bare head to the earth, To Heaven, and all four quarters; while he threw Rice, red and white, from both hands. "Wherefore thus Bowest thou, Brother?" said the Lord; and he, "It is the way, Great Sir! our fathers taught At every dawn, before the toil begins, To hold off evil from the sky above And earth beneath, and all the winds which blow." Then the World-honoured spake: "Scatter not rice, But offer loving thoughts and acts to all. To parents as the East where rises light; To teachers as the South whence rich gifts come; To wife and children as the West where gleam Colours of love and calm, and all days end; To friends and kinsmen and all men as North; To humblest living things beneath, to Saints And Angels and the blessed Dead above So shall all evil be shut off, and so The six main quarters will be safely kept."

Softly the Indian night sinks on the plains At full moon in the month of Chaitra Shud, When mangoes redden and the asoka buds Sweeten the breeze, and Rama's birthday comes, And all the fields are glad and all the towns. Softly that night fell over Vishramvan, Fragrant with blooms and jewelled thick with stars, And cool with mountain airs sighing adown From snow-flats on Himala high-outspread; For the moon swung above the eastern peaks, Climbing the spangled vault, and lighting clear Robini's ripples and the hills and plains, And all the sleeping land, and near at hand Silvering those roof-tops of the pleasure-house, Where nothing stirred nor sign of watching was, Save at the outer gates, whose warders cried Mudra, the watchword, and the countersign Angana, and the watch-drums beat a round; Whereat the earth lay still, except for call Of prowling jackals, and the ceaseless trill Of crickets on the garden grounds.

Thereafter it befell he sate at eve Amid his beauteous Court, holding the hand Of sweet Yasodhara, and some maid told-- With breaks of music when her rich voice dropped-- An ancient tale to speed the hour of dusk, Of love, and of a magic horse, and lands Wonderful, distant, where pale peoples dwelled And where the sun at night sank into seas. Then spake he, sighing, "Chitra brings me back. The wind's song in the strings with that fair tale. Give her, Yasodhara, thy pearl for thanks. But thou, my pearl! is there so wide a world? Is there a land which sees the great sun roll Into the waves, and are there hearts like ours, Countless, unknown, not happy--it may be-- Whom we might succour if we knew of them? Ofttimes I marvel, as the Lord of day Treads from the east his kingly road of gold, Who first on the world's edge hath hailed his beam, The children of the morning; oftentimes, Even in thine arms and on thy breasts, bright wife, Sore have I panted, at the sun's decline, To pass with him into that crimson west And see the peoples of the evening. There must be many we should love--how else? Now have I in this hour an ache, at last, Thy soft lips cannot kiss away: oh, girl! O Chitra! you that know of fairyland! Where tether they that swift steed of the tale? My palace for one day upon his back, To ride and ride and see the spread of the earth! Nay, if I had yon callow vulture's plumes-- The carrion heir of wider realms than mine-- How would I stretch for topmost Himalay, Light where the rose-gleam lingers on those snows, And strain my gaze with searching what is round! Why have I never seen and never sought? Tell me what lies beyond our brazen gates."

And drugged with poisonous drink the soul departs, And fierce with thirst to drink Karma returns; Sense-struck again the sodden self begins, And new deceits it earns

"Nay," the Yogis said, "Only great Brahm endures: the Gods but live."

"What life's course and cause sustain These Tathagato made plain; What delivers from life's woe That our Lord hath made us know."

Now, by that river dwelt a landholder Pious and rich, master of many herds, A goodly chief, the friend of all the poor; And from his house the village drew its name-- "Senani." Pleasant and in peace he lived, Having for wife Sujata, loveliest Of all the dark-eyed daughters of the plain; Gentle and true, simple and kind was she, Noble of mien, with gracious speech to all And gladsome looks--a pearl of womanhood-- Passing calm years of household happiness Beside her lord in that still Indian home, Save that no male child blessed their wedded love. Wherefore with many prayers she had besought Lukshmi, and many nights at full-moon gone Round the great Lingam, nine times nine, with gifts Of rice and jasmine wreaths and sandal oil, Praying a boy; also Sujata vowed-- If this should be--an offering of food Unto the Wood-God, plenteous, delicate, Set in a bowl of gold under his tree, Such as the lips of Devs may taste and take. And this had been: for there was born to her A beauteous boy, now three months old, who lay Between Sujata's breasts, while she did pace With grateful footsteps to the Wood-God's shrine, One arm clasping her crimson sari close To wrap the babe, that jewel of her joys, The other lifted high in comely curve To steady on her head the bowl and dish Which held the dainty victuals for the God.

"And none can say, `I sleep Happy and whole tonight, and so shall wake'?" "None say it."

Then--while the glad blood bounded in her veins As Gunga leaps when first the mountain snows Melt at her springs--uprose Yasodhara And clapped her palms, and laughed, with brimming tears Beading her lashes. "Oh! call quick," she cried, "These merchants to my purdah, for mine ears Thirst like parched throats to drink their blessed news. Go bring them in,--but if their tale be true, Say I will fill their girdles with much gold, With gems that kings shall envy; come ye too, My girls, for ye shall have guerdon of this If there be gifts to speak my grateful heart."

But Buddh heeded not, Sitting serene, with perfect virtue walled As is a stronghold by its gates and ramps; Also the Sacred Tree--the Bodhi-tree-- Amid that tumult stirred not, but each leaf Glistened as still as when on moonlit eves No zephyr spills the glittering gems of dew; For all this clamour raged outside the shade Spread by those cloistered stems.

"Most honored," spake again the charioteer,

Afterwards, when this weeping lady passed Into the Noble Paths, and one had prayed Answer from Buddha wherefore-being vowed Quit of all mortal passion and the touch, Flower-soft and conquering, of a woman's hands-- He suffered such embrace, the Master said "The greater beareth with the lesser love So it may raise it unto easier heights. Take heed that no man, being 'soaped from bonds, Vexeth bound souls with boasts of liberty. Free are ye rather that your freedom spread By patient winning and sweet wisdom's skill. Three eras of long toil bring Bodhisats-- Who will be guides and help this darkling world-- Unto deliverance, and the first is named Of deep 'Resolve,' the second of 'Attempt,' The third of 'Nomination.' Lo! I lived In era of Resolve, desiring good, Searching for wisdom, but mine eyes were sealed. Count the grey seeds on yonder castor-clump-- So many rains it is since I was Ram, A merchant of the coast which looketh south To Lanka and the hiding-place of pearls. Also in that far time Yasodhara Dwelt with me in our village by the sea, Tender as now, and Lukshmi was her name. And I remember how I journeyed thence Seeking our gain, for poor the household was And lowly. Not the less with wistful tears She prayed me that I should not part, nor tempt Perils by land and water. 'How could love Leave what it loved?' she wailed; yet, venturing, I Passed to the Straits, and after storm and toil And deadly strife with creatures of the deep, And woes beneath the midnight and the noon, Searching the wave I won therefrom a pearl Moonlike and glorious, such as kings might buy Emptying their treasury. Then came I glad Unto mine hills, but over all that land Famine spread sore; ill was I stead to live In journey home, and hardly reached my door-- Aching for food--with that white wealth of the sea Tied in my girdle. Yet no food was there; And on the threshold she for whom I toiled-- More than myself--lay with her speechless lips Nigh unto death for one small gift of grain. Then cried I, 'If there be who hath of grain, Here is a kingdom's ransom for one life Give Lukshmi bread and take my moonlight pearl.' Whereat one brought the last of all his hoard, Millet--three seers--and clutched the beauteous thing. But Lukshmi lived and sighed with gathered life, 'Lo! thou didst love indeed!' I spent my pearl Well in that life to comfort heart and mind Else quite uncomforted; but these pure pearls, My last large gain, won from a deeper wave-- The Twelve Nidanas and the Law of Good-- Cannot be spent, nor dimmed, and most fulfil Their perfect beauty being freeliest given. For like as is to Meru yonder hill Heaped by the little ants, and like as dew Dropped in the footmark of a bounding roe Unto the shoreless seas, so was that gift Unto my present giving; and so love-- Vaster in being free from toils of sense-- Was wisest stooping to the weaker heart; And so the feet of sweet Yasodhara Passed into peace and bliss, being softly led."

"Acharya, I write," meekly replied The Prince, and quickly on the dust he drew-- Not in one script, but many characters The sacred verse; Nagri and Dakshin, Ni, Mangal, Parusha, Yava, Tirthi, Uk, Darad, Sikhyani, Mana, Madhyachar, The pictured writings and the speech of signs, Tokens of cave-men and the sea-peoples, Of those who worship snakes beneath the earth, And those who flame adore and the sun's orb, The Magians and the dwellers on the mounds; Of all the nations all strange scripts he traced One after other with his writing-stick. Reading the master's verse in every tongue; And Viswamitra said, "It is enough, Let us to numbers.

So shall ye pass to clearer heights and find Easier ascents and lighter loads of sins, And larger will to burst the bonds of sense, Entering the Path. Who wins

What lets?--Brothers? the Darkness lets! which breeds Ignorance, mazed whereby ye take these shows For true, and thirst to have, and, having, cling To lusts which work you woes.

The Master smiled Exceeding tenderly. "Yea, I spake thus, Dear Kisagotami! But didst thou find The seed?"

Ah! Blessed Lord! Oh, High Deliverer! Forgive this feeble script, which doth thee wrong. Measuring with little wit thy lofty love. Ah! Lover! Brother! Guide! Lamp of the law! I take my refuge in they name and thee! I take my refuge in they order! OM! The dew is on the lotus!--Rise, Great Sun! And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. Om Mani Padme Hum, the sunrise comes! The Dewdrop Slips Into The Shining Sea!

So while they lingered by the lotus-pools And, lightly laughing, Rahula flung rice To feed the blue and purple fish, and she With sad eyes watched the swiftly-flying cranes, Sighing, "O creatures of the wandering wing, If ye shall light where my dear Lord is hid, Say that Yasodhara lives nigh to death For one word of his mouth, one touch of him."-- So, as they played and sighed, mother and child, Came some among the damsels of the Court Saying: "Great Princess! there have entered in At the south gate merchants of Hastinpur Tripusha called and Bhalluk, men of worth, Long traveled from the loud sea's edge, who bring Marvellous lovely webs pictured with gold, Waved blades of gilded steel, wrought bowls in brass, Cut ivories, spice, simples, and unknown birds Treasures of far-off peoples; but they bring That which doth beggar these, for He is seen! Thy Lord,--our Lord,--the hope of all the land Siddartha! they have seen him face to face Yea, and have worshipped him with knees and brows, And offered offerings; for he is become All which was shown, a teacher of the wise, World-honoured, holy, wonderful; a Buddh Who doth deliver men and save all flesh By sweetest speech and pity vast as Heaven And, lo! he journeyeth hither, these do say."

Then some one told the King, "There cometh here A holy hermit, bringing down the flock Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice."

The Fourth is Right Behavior. Let each act Assoil a fault or help a merit grow; Like threads of silver seen through crystal beads Let love through good deeds show.

Then the King hearing word, Sent nobles of the Court--well-mounted lords-- Nine separate messengers, each embassy Bidden to say: "The King Suddhodana-- Nearer the pyre by seven long years of lack, Wherethrough he hath not ceased to seek for thee-- Prays of his son to come unto his own, The Throne and people of this longing Realm, Lest he shall die and see thy face no more." Also nine horsemen sent Yasodhara Bidden to say, "The Princess of thy House-- Rahula's mother--craves to see thy face As the night-blowing moon-flower's swelling heart Pines for the moon, as pale asoka-buds Wait for a woman's foot: if thou hast found More than was lost, she prays her part in this, Rahula's part, but most of all thyself." So sped the Sakya Lords, but it befell That each one, with the message in his mouth, Entered the Bamboo-Garden in that hour When Buddha taught his Law; and--hearing--each Forgot to speak, lost thought of King and quest, Of the sad Princess even; only gazed Eye-rapt upon the Master; only hung Heart-caught upon the speech, compassionate, Commanding, perfect, pure, enlightening all, Poured from those sacred lips. Look! like a bee Winged for the hive, who sees the mogras spread And scents their utter sweetness on the air, If he be honey-filled, it matters not; If night be nigh, or rain, he will not heed; Needs must he light on those delicious blooms And drain their nectar; so these messengers One with another, hearing Buddha's words, Let go the purpose of their speed, and mixed, Heedless of all, amid the Master's train. Wherefore the King bade that Udayi go-- Chiefest in all the Court, and faithfullest, Siddartha's playmate in the happier days-- Who, as he drew anear the garden, plucked Blown tufts of tree-wool from the grove and sealed The entrance of his hearing; thus he came Safe through the lofty peril of the place And told the message of the King, and hers.

For sunward flight, thou soul with unplumed vans Sweet is the lower air and safe, and known The homely levels: only strong ones leave The nest each makes his own.

Then the King amazed Inquired "What treasure?" and the Teacher took Meekly the royal palm, and while they paced Through worshipping streets--the Princess and the King On either side--he told the things which make For peace and pureness, those Four noble Truths Which hold all wisdom as shores shut the seas, Those Eight right Rules whereby who will may walk-- Monarch or slave--upon the perfect Path That hath its Stages Four and Precepts Eight, Whereby whoso will live--mighty or mean Wise or unlearned, man, woman, young or old Shall soon or late break from the wheels of life, Attaining blest Nirvana. So they came Into the Palace-porch, Suddhodana With brows unknit drinking the mighty words, And in his own hand carrying Buddha's bowl, Whilst a new light brightened the lovely eyes Of sweet Yasodhara and sunned her tears; And that night entered they the Way of Peace.

Then in her tears she slept, but sleeping sighed-- As if that vision passed again--"The time! The time is come!" Whereat Siddartha turned, And, lo! the moon shone by the Crab! the stars In that same silver order long foretold Stood ranged to say: "This is the night!--choose thou The way of greatness or the way of good To reign a King of kings, or wander lone, Crownless and homeless, that the world be helped." Moreover, with the whispers of the gloom Came to his ears again that warning song, As when the Devas spoke upon the wind: And surely gods were round about the place Watching our Lord, who watched the shining stars.

Then strode he forth into the gloom and cried, "Channa, awake! and bring out Kantaka!"

So is the Eightfold Path which brings to peace; By lower or by upper heights it goes. The firm soul hastes, the feeble tarries. All Will reach the sunlit snows.

That is its painting on the glorious clouds, And these its emeralds on the peacock's train; It hath its stations in the stars; Its slaves in lightning, wind, and rain.

"Thy race," Answered the King "counteth a hundred thrones From Maha Sammat, but no deed like this."

The Third is Right Discourse. Govern the lips As they were palace-doors, the King within; Tranquil and fair and courteous be all words Which from that presence win.

So entered they the city side by side, The herdsmen and the Prince, what time the sun Gilded slow Sona's distant stream, and threw Long shadows down the street and through the gate Where the King's men kept watch. But when they saw Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood back, The market-people drew their wains aside, In the bazaar buyers and sellers stayed The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face; The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand, Forgot to strike; the weaver left his web, The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost His count of cowries; from the unwatched rice Shiva's white bull fed free; the wasted milk Ran o'er the lota while the milkers watched The passage of our Lord moving so meek, With yet so beautiful a majesty. But most the women gathering in the doors Asked: "Who is this that brings the sacrifice, So graceful and peace-giving as he goes? What is his caste? whence hath he eyes so sweet? Can he be Sakra or the Devaraj?" And others said, "It is the holy man Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill." But the Lord paced, in meditation lost, Thinking, "Alas! for all my sheep which have No shepherd; wandering in the night with none To guide them; bleating blindly towards the knife Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are their kin."

Therefore the maid was given unto the Prince A willing spoil; and when the stars were good-- Mesha, the Red Ram, being Lord of heaven-- The marriage feast was kept, as Sakyas use, The golden gadi set, the carpet spread, The wedding garlands hung, the arm-threads tied, The sweet cake broke, the rice and attar thrown, The two straws floated on the reddened milk, Which, coming close, betokened "love till death;" The seven steps taken thrice around the fire, The gifts bestowed on holy men, the alms And temple offerings made, the mantras sung, The garments of the bride and bridegroom tied. Then the grey father spake: "Worshipful Prince, She that was ours henceforth is only thine; Be good to her, who hath her life in thee." Wherewith they brought home sweet Yasodhara, With songs and trumpets, to the Prince's arms, And love was all in all.

So sigh we, passing o'er the silver strings, To thee who know'st not yet of earthly things; So say we; mocking, as we pass away, These lovely shadows wherewith thou dost play.

For love, to clasp Eternal Beauty close; For glory, to be lord of self; for pleasure, To live beyond the gods; for countless wealth, To lay up lasting treasure

Unto NIRVANA! He is one with life Yet lives not. He is blest, ceasing to be. OM, MANI PADME, OM! the Dewdrop slips Into the shining sea!

Blind to the height beyond, deaf to the sound Of sweet airs breathed from far past Indra's sky; Dumb to the summons of the true life kept For him who false puts by.

"But if they cannot bear their agonies, Or if they will not bear, and seek a term; Or if they bear, and be, as this man is, Too weak except for groans, and so still live, And growing old, grow older, then what end?"

This is its touch upon the blossomed rose, The fashion of its hand shaped lotus-leaves; In dark soil and the silence of the seeds The robe of Spring it weaves;

New houses. Seeking nothing, he gains all; Foregoing self, the Universe grows "I": If any teach NIRVANA is to cease, Say unto such they lie.

So,--thinking him divine,--Sujata drew Tremblingly nigh, and kissed the earth and said, With sweet face bent: "Would that the Holy One Inhabiting his grove, Giver of good, Merciful unto me his handmaiden, Vouchsafing now his presence, might accept These our poor gifts of snowy curds, fresh made, With milk as white as new-carved ivory!"

Sorrowful dwelt the King Suddhodana All those long years among the Sakya Lords Lacking the speech and presence of his Son; Sorrowful sate the sweet Yasodhara All those long years, knowing no joy of life, Widowed of him her living Liege and Prince. And ever, on the news of some recluse Seen far away by pasturing camel-men Or traders threading devious paths for gain, Messengers from the King had gone and come Bringing account of many a holy sage Lonely and lost to home; but nought of him The crown of white Kapilavastu's line, The glory of her monarch and his hope, The heart's content of sweet Yasodhara, Far-wandered now, forgetful, changed, or dead.

So grow the strifes and lusts which make earth's war, So grieve poor cheated hearts and flow salt tears; So wag the passions, envies, angers, hates; So years chase blood-stained years