The Light of Asia

Give freely and receive, but take from none By greed, or force, or fraud, what is his own.

Into the seas. These, steaming to the Sun, Give the lost wavelets back in cloudy fleece To trickle down the hills, and glide again; Having no pause or peace.

It is not marred nor stayed in any use, All liketh it; the sweet white milk it brings To mothers' breasts; it brings the white drops, too, Wherewith the young snake stings.

Then spake the Prince: "All this, my Lotus-flower! Was good to see."

Here endeth what I write Who love the Master for his love of us, A little knowing, little have I told Touching the Teacher and the Ways of Peace. Forty-five rains thereafter showed he those In many lands and many tongues and gave Our Asia light, that still is beautiful, Conquering the world with spirit of strong grace All which is written in the holy Books, And where he passed and what proud Emperors Carved his sweet words upon the rocks and caves: And how--in fulness of the times--it fell The Buddha died, the great Tathagato, Even as a man 'mongst men, fulfilling all And how a thousand thousand crores since then Have trod the Path which leads whither he went Unto NIRVANA where the Silence lives.

When th' eighth year passed The careful King bethought to teach his son All that a Prince should learn, for still he shunned The too vast presage of those miracles, The glories and the sufferings of a Buddh. So, in full council of his Ministers, "Who is the wisest man, great sirs," he asked, "To teach my Prince that which a Prince should know?" Whereto gave answer each with instant voice "King! Viswamitra is the wisest one, The farthest-seen in Scriptures, and the best In learning, and the manual arts, and all." Thus Viswamitra came and heard commands; And, on a day found fortunate, the Prince Took up his slate of ox-red sandal-wood, All-beautified by gems around the rim, And sprinkled smooth with dust of emery, These took he, and his writing-stick, and stood With eyes bent down before the Sage, who said, "Child, write this Scripture, speaking slow the verse 'Gayatri' named, which only High-born hear:--

Whereof they told the King: "Our Lord, thy son, Wills that his chariot be yoked at noon, That he may ride abroad and see mankind."

And in the middle watch, Our Lord attained Abhidjna--insight vast Ranging beyond this sphere to spheres unnamed, System on system, countless worlds and suns Moving in splendid measures, band by band Linked in division, one yet separate, The silver islands of a sapphire sea Shoreless, unfathomed, undiminished, stirred With waves which roll in restless tides of change. He saw those Lords of Light who hold their worlds By bonds invisible, how they themselves Circle obedient round mightier orbs Which serve profounder splendours, star to star Flashing the ceaseless radiance of life From centres ever shifting unto cirques Knowing no uttermost. These he beheld With unsealed vision, and of all those worlds, Cycle on epicycle, all their tale Of Kalpas, Mahakalpas--terms of time Which no man grasps, yea, though he knew to count The drops in Gunga from her springs to the sea, Measureless unto speech--whereby these wax And wane; whereby each of this heavenly host Fulfils its shining life and darkling dies. Sakwal by Sakwal, depths and heights be passed Transported through the blue infinitudes, Marking--behind all modes, above all spheres, Beyond the burning impulse of each orb-- That fixed decree at silent work which wills Evolve the dark to light, the dead to life, To fulness void, to form the yet unformed, Good unto better, better unto best, By wordless edict; having none to bid, None to forbid; for this is past all gods Immutable, unspeakable, supreme, A Power which builds, unbuilds, and builds again, Ruling all things accordant to the rule Of virtue, which is beauty, truth, and use. So that all things do well which serve the Power, And ill which hinder; nay, the worm does well Obedient to its kind; the hawk does well Which carries bleeding quarries to its young; The dewdrop and the star shine sisterly, Globing together in the common work; And man, who lives to die, dies to live well So if he guide his ways by blamelessness And earnest will to hinder not but help All things both great and small which suffer life. These did our Lord see in the middle watch.

"The string o'erstretched breaks, and the music flies, The string o'erslack is dumb, and music dies; Tune us the sitar neither low nor high."

If making none to lack, he throughly purge The lie and lust of self forth from his blood; Suffering all meekly, rendering for offence Nothing but grace and good;

Such is the Law which moves to righteousness, Which none at last can turn aside or stay; The heart of it is Love, the end of it Is Peace and Consummation sweet. Obey!

Ye suffer from yourselves. None else compels None other holds you that ye live and die, And whirl upon the wheel, and hug and kiss Its spokes of agony,

Thereat Thrice round the Prince King Bimbasara paced, Reverently bending to the Master's feet, And bade him speed. So passed our Lord away Towards Uravilva, not yet comforted, And wan of face, and weak with six years' quest. But they upon the hill and in the grove-- Alara, Udra, and the ascetics five-- Had stayed him, saying all was written clear In holy Shasters, and that none might win Higher than Sruti and than Smriti--nay, Not the chief saints!--for how should mortal man Be wiser than the Jnana-Kand, which tells How Brahm is bodiless and actionless, Passionless, calm, unqualified, unchanged, Pure life, pure thought, pure joy? Or how should man Its better than the Karmma-Kand, which shows How he may strip passion and action off, Break from the bond of self, and so, unsphered, Be God, and melt into the vast divine, Flying from false to true, from wars of sense To peace eternal, where the silence lives?

These had they passed When from the roadside moaned a mournful voice, "Help, masters! lift me to my feet; oh, help! Or I shall die before I reach my house!" A stricken wretch it was, whose quivering frame, Caught by some deadly plague, lay in the dust Writhing, with fiery purple blotches specked; The chill sweat beaded on his brow, his mouth Was dragged awry with twichings of sore pain, The wild eyes swam with inward agony. Gasping, he clutched the grass to rise, and rose Half-way, then sank, with quaking feeble limbs And scream of terror, crying, "Ah, the pain! Good people, help!" whereon Siddartha ran, Lifted the woful man with tender hands, With sweet looks laid the sick head on his knee, And while his soft touch comforted the wretch, Asked: "Brother, what is ill with thee? what harm Hath fallen? wherefore canst thou not arise? Why is it, Channa, that he pants and moans, And gasps to speak and sighs so pitiful?" Then spake the charioteer: "Great Prince! this man Is smitten with some pest; his elements Are all confounded; in his veins the blood, Which ran a wholesome river, leaps and boils A fiery flood; his heart, which kept good time, Beats like an ill-played drum-skin, quick and slow; His sinews slacken like a bow-string slipped; The strength is gone from ham, and loin, and neck, And all the grace and joy of manhood fled; This is a sick man with the fit upon him. See how be plucks and plucks to seize his grief, And rolls his bloodshot orbs and grinds his teeth, And draws his breath as if 'twere choking smoke. Lo! now he would be dead, but shall not die Until the plague hath had its work in him, Killing the nerves which die before the life; Then, when his strings have cracked with agony And all his bones are empty of the sense To ache, the plague will quit and light elsewhere. Oh, sir! it is not good to hold him so! The harm may pass, and strike thee, even thee." But spake the Prince, still comforting the man, "And are there others, are there many thus? Or might it be to me as now with him?" "Great Lord!" answered the charioteer, "this comes In many forms to all men; griefs and wounds, Sickness and tetters, palsies, leprosies, Hot fevers, watery wastings, issues, blains Befall all flesh and enter everywhere." "Come such ills unobserved?" the Prince inquired. And Channa said: "Like the sly snake they come That stings unseen; like the striped murderer, Who waits to spring from the Karunda bush, Hiding beside the jungle path; or like The lightning, striking these and sparing those, As chance may send."

"It may begin," The hermit moaned. "Alas! we know not this, Nor surely anything; yet after night Day comes, and after turmoil peace, and we Hate this accursed flesh which clogs the soul That fain would rise; so, for the sake of soul, We stake brief agonies in game with Gods To gain the larger joys."

"My sister! thou hast found," the Master said, "Searching for what none finds--that bitter balm I had to give thee. He thou lovest slept Dead on thy bosom yesterday: today Thou know'st the whole wide world weeps with thy woe The grief which all hearts share grows less for one. Lo! I would pour my blood if it could stay Thy tears and win the secret of that curse Which makes sweet love our anguish, and which drives O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice As these dumb beasts are driven--men their lords. I seek that secret: bury thou thy child!"

Then, lightly treading where those sleepers lay, Into the night Siddartha passed: its eyes, The watchful stars, looked love on him: its breath, The wandering wind, kissed his robe's fluttered fringe; The garden-blossoms, folded for the dawn, Opened their velvet hearts to waft him scents From pink and purple censers: o'er the land, From Himalay unto the Indian Sea, A tremor spread, as if earth's soul beneath Stirred with an unknown hope; and holy books-- Which tell the story of our Lord--say, too, That rich celestial musics thrilled the air From hosts on hosts of shining ones, who thronged Eastward and westward, making bright the night Northward and southward, making glad the ground. Also those four dread Regents of the Earth, Descending at the doorway, two by two,-- With their bright legions of Invisibles In arms of sapphire, silver, gold, and pearl-- Watched with joined hands the Indian Prince, who stood, His tearful eyes raised to the stars, and lips Close-set with purpose of prodigious love.

If he shall labour rightly, rooting these, And planting wholesome seedlings where they grew, Fruitful and fair and clean the ground shall be, And rich the harvest due.

Issues upon the Universe that sum Which is the lattermost of lives. It makes Its habitation as the worm spins silk And dwells therein. It takes

So all that night he spake, teaching the Law And on no eyes fell sleep--for they who heard Rejoiced with tireless joy. Also the King, When this was finished, rose upon his throne And with bared feet bowed low before his Son Kissing his hem; and said, "Take me, O Son! Lowest and least of all thy Company." And sweet Yasodhara, all happy now,-- Cried "Give to Rahula--thou Blessed One! The Treasure of the Kingdom of thy Word For his inheritance." Thus passed these Three Into the Path. ------------

Thou who wouldst see where dawned the light at last, North-westwards from the "Thousand Gardens" go By Gunga's valley till thy steps be set On the green hills where those twin streamlets spring Nilajan and Mohana; follow them, Winding beneath broad-leaved mahua-trees, 'Mid thickets of the sansar and the bir, Till on the plain the shining sisters meet In Phalgu's bed, flowing by rocky banks To Gaya and the red Barabar hills. Hard by that river spreads a thorny waste, Uruwelaya named in ancient days, With sandhills broken; on its verge a wood Waves sea-green plumes and tassels 'thwart the sky, With undergrowth wherethrough a still flood steals, Dappled with lotus-blossoms, blue and white, And peopled with quick fish and tortoises. Near it the village of Senani reared Its roofs of grass, nestled amid the palms, Peaceful with simple folk and pastoral toils.

Whom sadly eyeing spake our Lord to one, Chief of the woe-begones: "Much-suffering sir These many moons I dwell upon the hill-- Who am a seeker of the Truth--and see My brothers here, and thee, so piteously Self-anguished; wherefore add ye ills to life Which is so evil?"

Anekajatisangsarang Sandhawissang anibhisang Gahakarakangawesanto Dukkhajatipunappunang.

What pleasure hast thou of thy changeless bliss? Nay, if love lasted, there were joy in this; But life's way is the wind's way, all these things Are but brief voices breathed on shifting strings.

The Books say well, my Brothers! each man's life The outcome of his former living is; The bygone wrongs bring forth sorrows and woes The bygone right breeds bliss.

But the sad King Marvelled, and gave command that new delights Be compassed to enthrall Siddartha's heart Amid those dancers of his pleasure-house, Also he set at all the brazen doors A doubled guard.

Then spake the Prince, "Is this the end which comes To all who live?"

No need hath such to live as ye name life; That which began in him when he began Is finished: he hath wrought the purpose through Of what did make him Man.

"Fair goes the dancing when the sitar's tuned; Tune us the sitar neither low nor high, And we will dance away the hearts of men.

Round Rajagriha five fair hills arose, Guarding King Bimbasara's sylvan town; Baibhara, green with lemon-grass and palms; Bipulla, at whose foot thin Sarsuti Steals with warm ripple; shadowy Tapovan, Whose steaming pools mirror black rocks, which ooze Sovereign earth-butter from their rugged roofs; South-east the vulture-peak Sailagiri; And eastward Ratnagiri, hill of gems. A winding track, paven with footworn slabs, Leads thee by safflower fields and bamboo tufts Under dark mangoes and the jujube-trees, Past milk-white veins of rock and jasper crags, Low cliff and flats of jungle-flowers, to where The shoulder of that mountain, sloping west, O'erhangs a cave with wild figs canopied. Lo! thou who comest thither, bare thy feet And bow thy head! for all this spacious earth Hath not a spot more dear and hallowed. Here Lord Buddha sate the scorching summers through, The driving rains, the chilly dawns and eves; Wearing for all men's sakes the yellow robe, Eating in beggar's guise the scanty meal Chance-gathered from the charitable; at night Crouched on the grass, homeless, alone; while yelped The sleepless jackals round his cave, or coughs Of famished tiger from the thicket broke. By day and night here dwelt the World-honoured, Subduing that fair body born for bliss With fast and frequent watch and search intense Of silent meditation, so prolonged That ofttimes while he mused--as motionless As the fixed rock his seat--the squirrel leaped Upon his knee, the timid quail led forth Her brood between his feet, and blue doves pecked The rice-grains from the bowl beside his hand.

The devils in the underworlds wear out Deeds that were wicked in an age gone by. Nothing endures: fair virtues waste with time, Foul sins grow purged thereby.

It will not be contemned of any one; Who thwarts it loses, and who serves it gains; The hidden good it pays with peace and bliss, The hidden ill with pains.

If any teach NIRVANA is to live, Say unto such they err; not knowing this, Nor what light shines beyond their broken lamps, Nor lifeless, timeless bliss.

Who of these Five is conqueror hath trod Three stages out of Four: yet there abide The Love of Life on earth, Desire for Heaven, Self-Praise, Error, and Pride.

Then he arose--radiant, rejoicing, strong-- Beneath the Tree, and lifting high his voice Spake this, in hearing of all Times and Worlds:

Thus spake he, and Yasodhara, for joy, Scarce mastered breath to answer: "Be it well Now and at all times with ye, worthy friends, Who bring good tidings; but of this great thing Wist ye how it befell?"

If he shall day by day dwell merciful, Holy and just and kind and true; and rend Desire from where it clings with bleeding roots, Till love of life have end:

Therefore, upon the seventh day, there went The Sakya lords and town and country round Unto the maidan; and the maid went too Amid her kinsfolk, carried as a bride, With music, and with litters gaily dight, And gold-horned oxen, flower-caparisoned. Whom Devadatta claimed, of royal line, And Nanda and Ardjuna, noble both, The flower of all youths there, till the Prince came Riding his white horse Kantaka, which neighed, Astonished at this great strange world without Also Siddartha gazed with wondering eyes On all those people born beneath the throne, Otherwise housed than kings, otherwise fed, And yet so like--perchance--in joys and griefs. But when the Prince saw sweet Yasodhara, Brightly he smiled, and drew his silken rein, Leaped to the earth from Kantaka's broad back, And cried, "He is not worthy of this pearl Who is not worthiest; let my rivals prove If I have dared too much in seeking her." Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test And set a brazen drum six gows away, Ardjuna six and Devadatta eight; But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum Ten gows from off the line, until it seemed A cowry-shell for target. Then they loosed, And Nanda pierced his drum, Ardjuna his, And Devadatta drove a well-aimed shaft Through both sides of his mark, so that the crowd Marvelled and cried; and sweet Yasodhara Dropped the gold sari o'er her fearful eyes, Lest she should see her Prince's arrow fail. But he, taking their bow of lacquered cane, With sinews bound, and strung with silver wire, Which none but stalwart arms could draw a span, Thrummed it--low laughing--drew the twisted string Till the horns kissed, and the thick belly snapped "That is for play, not love," he said; "hath none A bow more fit for Sakya lords to use?" And one said, "There is Sinhahanu's bow, Kept in the temple since we know not when, Which none can string, nor draw if it be strung." "Fetch me," he cried, "that weapon of a man!" They brought the ancient bow, wrought of black steel, Laid with gold tendrils on its branching curves Like bison-horns; and twice Siddartha tried Its strength across his knee, then spake "Shoot now With this, my cousins!" but they could not bring The stubborn arms a hand's-breadth nigher use; Then the Prince, lightly leaning, bent the bow, Slipped home the eye upon the notch, and twanged Sharply the cord, which, like an eagle's wing Thrilling the air, sang forth so clear and loud That feeble folk at home that day inquired "What is this sound?" and people answered them, "It is the sound of Sinhahanu's bow, Which the King's son has strung and goes to shoot;" Then fitting fair a shaft, he drew and loosed, And the keen arrow clove the sky, and drave Right through that farthest drum, nor stayed its flight, But skimmed the plain beyond, past reach of eye.

Each hath such lordship as the loftiest ones; Nay, for with Powers above, around, below, As with all flesh and whatsoever lives, Act maketh joy and woe.

The purdah hung, Crimson and blue, with broidered threads of gold, Across a portal carved in sandal-wood, Whence by three steps the way was to the bower Of inmost splendour, and the marriage-couch Set on a dais soft with silver cloths, Where the foot fell as though it trod on piles Of neem-blooms. All the walls, were plates of pearl, Cut shapely from the shells of Lanka's wave; And o'er the alabaster roof there ran Rich inlayings of lotus and of bird, Wrought in skilled work of lazulite and jade, Jacynth and jasper; woven round the dome, And down the sides, and all about the frames Wherein were set the fretted lattices, Through which there breathed, with moonlight and cool airs, Scents from the shell-flowers and the jasmine sprays; Not bringing thither grace or tenderness Sweeter than shed from those fair presences Within the place--the beauteous Sakya Prince, And hers, the stately, bright Yasodhara.

Unseen it helpeth ye with faithful hands, Unheard it speaketh stronger than the storm. Pity and Love are man's because long stress Moulded blind mass to form.

Then did Siddartha raise his eyes, and see Fast pacing towards the river brink a band Of wailing people, foremost one who swung An earthen bowl with lighted coals, behind The kinsmen shorn, with mourning marks, ungirt, Crying aloud, "O Rama, Rama, hear! Call upon Rama, brothers"; next the bier, Knit of four poles with bamboos interlaced, Whereon lay, stark and stiff, feet foremost, lean, Chapfallen, sightless, hollow-flanked, a-grin, Sprinkled with red and yellow dust--the Dead, Whom at the four-went ways they turned head first, And crying "Rama, Rama!" carried on To where a pile was reared beside the stream; Thereon they laid him, building fuel up-- Good sleep hath one that slumbers on that bed! He shall not wake for cold albeit he lies Naked to all the airs--for soon they set The red flame to the corners four, which crept, And licked, and flickered, finding out his flesh And feeding on it with swift hissing tongues, And crackle of parched skin, and snap of joint; Till the fat smoke thinned and the ashes sank Scarlet and grey, with here and there a bone White midst the grey--the total of the man.

"'Tis good," the Sage rejoined, "Most noble Prince, If these thou know'st, needs it that I should teach The mensuration of the lineal?" Humbly the boy replied, "Acharya!" "Be pleased to hear me. Paramanus ten A parasukshma make; ten of those build The trasarene, and seven trasarenes One mote's-length floating in the beam, seven motes The whisker-point of mouse, and ten of these One likhya; likhyas ten a yuka, ten Yukas a heart of barley, which is held Seven times a wasp-waist; so unto the grain Of mung and mustard and the barley-corn, Whereof ten give the finger joint, twelve joints The span, wherefrom we reach the cubit, staff, Bow-length, lance-length; while twenty lengths of lance Mete what is named a 'breath,' which is to say Such space as man may stride with lungs once filled, Whereof a gow is forty, four times that A yojana; and, Master! if it please, I shall recite how many sun-motes lie From end to end within a yojana." Thereat, with instant skill, the little Prince Pronounced the total of the atoms true. But Viswamitra heard it on his face Prostrate before the boy; "For thou," he cried, "Art Teacher of thy teachers--thou, not I, Art Guru. Oh, I worship thee, sweet Prince! That comest to my school only to show Thou knowest all without the books, and know'st Fair reverence besides."