,,the ,,dawn ,,and ,,the ,,day ,or1 ,the ,buddha and the ,christ1 ,part ,i by ,,henry ,t4 ,,niles ,the ,blade ,printing ,paper ,company ,toledo1 ,ohio #ahid ,,preface4 ,when ,humboldt first ascended the ,andes and saw the trees1 shrubs and flora he had long before studied on the ,alps1 he had only to look at his barometer1 or at the sea of mountains and hills below1 the rocks and soil around1 and the sun above1 to understand this seeming marvel of creation2 while those who knew less of the laws of order and universal harmony might be lost in conjectures about pollen floating in the upper air1 or seeds carried by birds across seas1 forgetting that preservation is perpetual creation1 and that it takes no more power to clothe a mountain just risen from the sea in appropriate verdure than to renew the beauty and the bloom of spring4 ,max ,mueller1 who looks through antiquity with the same clear vision with which ,humboldt examined the physical world1 when he found the most ancient ,hindoos bowing in worship before ,dyaus ,pitar1 the exact equivalent of the ,zeus ,pater of the ,greeks and the ,jupiter of the ,romans1 and of ,our ,father who art in the heavens in our own divinely taught prayer1 instead of indulging in wild speculations about the chance belief of some ancient chief or patriarch1 transmitted across continents and seas and even across the great gulf that has always divided the ,aryan from the ,semitic civilization and preserved through ages of darkness and unbelief1 saw in it the common yearning of the human soul to find rest on a loving ,father's almighty arm2 yet when our oriental missionaries and scholars found such fundamental truths of their own religion as the common brotherhood of man1 and that love is the vital force of all religion1 which consists not in blood-oblations or in forms and creeds1 but in shunning evil and doing good1 and that we must overcome evil by good and hatred by love1 and that there is a spiritual world and life after death embodied in the teachings of ,buddha--instead of finding in this great fact new proof of the common ,father's love for all ,his children1 they immediately began to indulge in conjectures as to how these truths might have been derived from the early ,christians who visited the ,east1 while those who were disposed to reject the claims of ,christianity have exhausted research and conjecture to find something looking as if ,christianity itself might have been derived from the ,buddhist missionaries to ,palestine and ,egypt1 both overlooking the remarkable fact that it is only in fundamental truths that the two religions agree1 while in the dogmas1 legends1 creeds and speculations which form the wall of separation between them they are as wide asunder as the poles4 ,how comes it on the one theory that the ,nestorians1 whose peculiar creed had already separated them from the balance of the ,christian church1 taught their ,buddhist disciples no part of that creed to which they have adhered with such tenacity through the ages8 ,and on the other theory1 how comes it1 if the ,divine ,master was1 as some modern writers claim1 an ,essene1 that is1 a ,buddhist monk1 that there is not in all his teachings a trace of the speculations and legends which had already buried the fundamental truths of ,buddhism almost out of sight8 ,how sad to hear a distinguished ,christian scholar like ,sir ,monier ,williams cautioning his readers against giving a ,christian meaning to the ,christian expressions he constantly met with in ,buddhism1 and yet informing them that a learned and distinguished ,japanese gentleman told him it was a source of great delight to him to find so many of his most cherished religious beliefs in the ,new ,testament2 and to see an earnest ,christian missionary like good ,father ,huc1 when in the busy city of ,lha-ssa1 on the approach of evening1 at the sound of a bell the whole population sunk on their knees in a concert of prayer1 only finding in it an attempt of ,satan to counterfeit ,christian worship2 and on the other hand to see ancient and modern learning ransacked to prove that the brightest and clearest light that ever burst upon a sinful and benighted world was but the reflected rays of another faith4 ,and yet this same ,sir ,monier ,williams says3 ,we shall not be far wrong in attempting an outline of the ,buddha's life if we begin by assuming that intense individuality1 fervid earnestness and severe simplicity1 combined with singular beauty of countenance1 calm dignity of bearing1 and almost superhuman persuasiveness of speech1 were conspicuous in the great teacher4 ,to believe that such a character was the product of a false religion1 or that he was given over to believe a lie1 savors too much of that worst agnosticism which would in effect deny the universality of ,god's love and would limit ,his care to some favored locality or age or race4 ,how much more in harmony with the broad philosophy of such men as ,humboldt and ,mueller1 and with the character of a loving ,father1 to believe that at all times and in all countries ,he has been watching over all ,his children and giving them all the light they were capable of receiving4 ,this narrow view is especially out of place in treating of ,buddhism and ,christianity1 as ,buddha himself predicted that his ,dharma would last but five hundred years1 when he would be succeeded by ,matreya1 that is1 ,love incarnate1 on which account the whole ,buddhist world was on tiptoe of expectation at the time of the coming of our ,lord1 so that the wise men of the ,east were not only following their guiding-star but the prediction of their own great prophet in seeking ,bethlehem4 ,had the ,christian missionaries to the ,east left behind them their creeds1 which have only served to divide ,christians into hostile sects and sometimes into hostile camps1 and which so far as ,i can see1 after years of patient study1 have no necessary connection with the simple1 living truths taught by our ,saviour1 and had taken only their ,new ,testaments and their earnest desire to do good1 the history of missions would have been widely different4 ,how of the earth earthy seemed the walls that divided the delegates to the world's great ,congress of ,religions1 recently held in ,chicago1 and how altogether divine ,the love which like an endless golden chain ,joined all in one4 ,whatever others may think1 it is my firm belief that ,buddhism and ,christianity1 which we cannot doubt have influenced for good such vast masses the human family1 both descended from heaven clothed in robes of celestial purity which have become sadly stained by their contact with the selfishness of a sinful world1 except for which belief the following pages would never have been written1 which are now sent forth in the hope that they may do something to enable ,buddhists and ,christians to see eye to eye and something to promote peace and good-will among men4 ,while following my own conceptions and even fancies in many things1 ,i believe the leading characters and incidents to be historical1 and ,i have given nothing as the teaching of the great master which was not to my mind clearly authenticated4 ,to those who have read so much about agnostic ,buddhism1 and about ,nirvana meaning annihilation1 it may seem bold in me to present ,buddha as an undoubting believer in the fundamental truths of all religion1 and as not only a believer in a spiritual world but an actual visitor to its sad and blissful scenes2 but the only agnosticism ,i have been able to trace to ,buddha was a want of faith in the many ways invented through the ages to escape the consequences of sin and to avoid the necessity of personal purification1 and the only annihilation he taught and yearned for was the annihilation of self in the highest ,christian sense1 and escape from that body of death from which the ,apostle ,paul so earnestly sought deliverance4 ,doubtless agnosticism and almost every form of belief and unbelief subsequently sprang up among the intensely acute and speculative peoples of the ,east known under the general name of ,buddhists1 as they did among the less acute and speculative peoples of the ,west known as ,christians2 but the one is no more primitive ,buddhism than the other is primitive ,christianity4 ,while there are innumerable poetic legends--of which ,spence ,hardy's ,manual of ,buddhism is a great storehouse1 and many of which are given by ,arnold in his beautiful poem--strewn thick along the track of ,buddhist literature1 constantly tempting one to leave the straight path of the development of a great religion1 ,i have carefully avoided what did not commend itself to my mind as either historical or spiritual truth4 ,it was my original design to follow the wonderful career of ,buddha until his long life closed with visions of the golden city much as described in ,revelation1 and then to follow that most wonderful career of ,buddhist missions1 not only through ,india and ,ceylon1 but to ,palestine1 ,greece and ,egypt1 and over the table-lands of ,asia and through the ,chinese ,empire to ,japan1 and thence by the black stream to ,mexico and ,central ,america1 and then to follow the wise men of the ,east until the ,light of the world dawned on them on the plains of ,bethlehem--a task but half accomplished1 which ,i shall yet complete if life and strength are spared4 ,a valued literary friend suggests that the social life described in the following pages is too much like ours1 but why should their daily life and social customs be greatly different from ours8 ,the ,aryan migrations to ,india and to ,europe were in large masses1 of course taking their social customs1 or as the ,romans would say1 their household gods1 with them4 ,what wonder1 then1 that the home as ,tacitus describes it in the ,wilds of ,germany was substantially what ,mueller finds from the very structure of the ,sanscrit and ,european languages it must have been in ,bactria1 the common cradle of the ,aryan race4 ,there can scarcely be a doubt that twenty-five hundred years ago the daily life and social customs in the north of ,india1 which had been under undisputed ,aryan control long enough for the ,sanscrit language to spring up1 come to perfection and finally become obsolete1 were more like ours than like those of modern ,india after the1 many--and especially the ,mohammedan--conquests and after centuries of oppression and alien rule4 ,if a thousand ,english-speaking ,aryans should now be placed on some distant island1 how much would their social customs and even amusements differ from ours in a hundred years8 ,only so far as changed climate and surrounding's compelled4 ,i give as an introduction an outline of the golden1 silver1 brazen and iron ages1 as described by the ancient poets and believed in by all antiquity1 as it was in the very depths of the darkness of the iron age that our great light appeared in ,northern ,india4 ,the very denseness of the darkness of the age in which he came makes the clearness of the light more wonderful1 and accounts for the joy with which it was received and the rapidity with which it spread4 ,not to enter into the niceties of chronological questions1 the mission of ,buddha may be roughly said to have commenced about five hundred years before the commencement of our era1 and with incessant labors and long and repeated journeys to have lasted forty-five years1 when at about the age of eighty he died1 or1 as the ,buddhists more truthfully and more beautifully say1 entered ,nirvana4 ,,henry ,t4 ,,niles4 ,,toledo1 ,january #a1 #ahid4 99 99 99 99 99 ,since this work was in the hands of the printer ,i have read the recent work of ,bishop ,copelston1 of ,columbo1 ,ceylon1 and it was a source of no small gratification to find him in all material points agreeing with the result of my somewhat extensive investigations as given within1 for in ,ceylon1 if anywhere1 we would expect accuracy4 ,here the great ,buddhist development first comes in contact with authentic history during the third century ,b4,c4 in the reign of the great ,asoka1 the discovery of whose rock inscriptions shed such a flood of light on primitive ,buddhism1 while it still retained enough of its primitive power1 as we learn from those inscriptions themselves1 to turn that monarch from a course of cruel tyranny1 and1 as we learn from the history of ,ceylon1 to induce his son and daughter to abandon royalty and become the first missionaries to that beautiful island4 ,h4,t4,n4 ,,introduction4 ,the golden age--when men were brothers all1 ,the golden rule their law and ,god their king2 ,when no fierce beasts did through the forests roam1 ,nor poisonous reptiles crawl upon the ground2 ,when trees bore only wholesome1 luscious fruits1 ,and thornless roses breathed their sweet perfumes2 ,when sickness1 sin and sorrow were unknown1 ,and tears but spoke of joy too deep for words2 ,when painless death but led to higher life1 ,a life that knows no end1 in that bright world ,whence angels on the ladder ,jacob saw1 ,descending1 talk with man as friend to friend-- ,that age of purity and peace had passed1 ,but left a living memory behind1 ,cherished and handed down from sire to son ,through all the scattered peoples of the earth1 ,a living prophecy of what this world1 ,this sad and sinful world1 might yet become4 ,the silver age--an age of faith1 not sight-- ,came next1 when reason ruled instead of love2 ,when men as through a glass but darkly saw ,what to their fathers clearly stood revealed ,in ,god's own light of love-illumined truth1 ,of which the sun that rising paints the east1 ,and whose last rays with glory gild the west1 ,is but an outbirth4 ,then were temples reared1 ,and priests 'mid clouds of incense sang ,his praise ,who out of densest darkness called the light1 ,and from ,his own unbounded fullness made ,the heavens and earth and all that in them is4 ,then landmarks were first set1 lest men contend ,for ,god's free gifts1 that all in peace had shared4 ,then laws were made to govern those whose sires ,were laws unto themselves4 ,then sickness came1 ,and grief and pain attended men from birth to death4 ,but still a silver light lined every cloud1 ,and hope was given to cheer and comfort men4 ,the brazen age1 brilliant but cold1 succeeds4 ,this was an age of knowledge1 art and war1 ,when the knights-errant of the ancient world1 ,adventures seeking1 roamed with brazen swords ,which by a wondrous art--then known1 now lost-- ,were hard as flint1 and edged to cut a hair ,or cleave in twain a warrior armor-clad ,and armed with shields adorned by ,vulcan's art1 ,wonder of coming times and theme for bards4#a ,then science searched through nature's heights and depths4 ,heaven's canopy thick set with stars was mapped1 ,the constellations named1 and all the laws searched out ,that guide their motions1 rolling sphere on sphere4#b ,then men by reasonings piled up mountain high ,thought to scale heaven1 and to dethrone heaven's king1 ,whose imitators weak1 with quips and quirks ,and ridicule would now destroy all sacred things4 ,this age great ,homer and old ,hesiod sang1 ,and gods they made of hero1 artist1 bard4 ,at length this twilight of the ages fades1 ,and starless night now sinks upon the world-- ,an age of iron1 cruel1 dark and cold4 ,on ,asia first this outer darkness fell1 ,once seat of paradise1 primordial peace1 ,perennial harmony and perfect love4 ,a despot's will was then a nation's law2 ,an idol's car crushed out poor human lives1 ,and human blood polluted many shrines4 ,then human speculation made of ,god ,a shoreless ocean1 distant1 waveless1 vast1 ,of truth that sees not and unfeeling love1 ,whence souls as drops were taken back to fall1 ,absorbed and lost1 when1 countless ages passed1 ,they should complete their round as souls of men1 ,of beasts1 of birds and of all creeping things4 ,and1 even worse1 the cruel iron castes1 ,one caste too holy for another's touch1 ,had every human aspiration crushed1 ,the common brotherhood of man destroyed1 ,and made all men but ,pharisees or slaves4 ,and worst of all--and what could e'en be worse8-- ,woman1 bone of man's bone1 flesh of his flesh1 ,the equal partner of a double life1 ,who in the world's best days stood by his side ,to lighten every care1 and heighten every joy1 ,and in the world's decline still clung to him1 ,she only true when all beside were false1 ,when all were cruel she alone still kind1 ,light of his hearth and mistress of his home1 ,sole spot where peace and joy could still be found-- ,woman herself cast down1 despised was made ,slave to man's luxury and brutal lust4 ,then war was rapine1 havoc1 needless blood1 ,infants impaled before their mothers' eyes1 ,women dishonored1 mutilated1 slain1 ,parents but spared to see their children die4 ,then peace was but a faithless1 hollow truce1 ,with plots and counter-plots2 the dagger's point ,and poisoned cup instead of open war2 ,and life a savage1 grim conspiracy ,of mutual murder1 treachery and greed4 ,o dark and cruel age6 ,o cruel creeds6 ,o cruel men6 ,o crushed and bleeding hearts1 ,that from the very ground in anguish cry3 ,is there no light--no hope--no help--no ,god8 #a,see ,hesiod's description of the shield of ,hercules1 the ,st4 ,george of that ancient age of chivalry4 #b,see the celebrated zodiac of ,denderah1 given in ,landseer's ,sabaean ,researches1 and in ,napoleon's ,egypt4 ,the ,dawn and the ,day or ,the ,buddha and the ,christ4 ,,book ,i4 ,northward from ,ganges' stream and ,india's plains ,an ancient city crowned a lofty hill1 ,whose high embattled walls had often rolled ,the surging1 angry tide of battle back4 ,walled on three sides1 but on the north a cliff1 ,at once the city's quarry and its guard1 ,cut out in galleries1 with vaulted roofs#a ,upborne upon cyclopean columns vast1 ,chiseled with art1 their capitals adorned ,with lions1 elephants1 and bulls1 life size1 ,once dedicate to many monstrous gods ,before the ,aryan race as victors came1 ,then prisons1 granaries and magazines1 ,now only known to bandits and wild beasts4 ,this cliff1 extending at each end1 bends north1 ,and rises in two mountain-chains that end ,in two vast snow-capped ,himalayan peaks1 ,between which runs a glittering glacial stream1 ,a mighty moving mass of crystal ice1 ,crushing the rocks in its resistless course2 ,from which bursts forth a river that had made ,of all this valley one great highland lake1 ,which on one side had burst its bounds and cut ,in myriad years a channel through the rock1 ,so narrow that a goat might almost leap ,from cliff to cliff--these cliffs so smooth and steep ,the eagles scarce could build upon their sides2 ,this yawning chasm so deep one scarce could hear ,the angry waters roaring far below4 ,this stream1 guided by art1 now fed a lake ,above the city and behind this cliff1 ,which1 guided thence in channels through the rock1 ,fed many fountains1 sending crystal streams ,through every street and down the terraced hill1 ,and through the plain in little silver streams1 ,spreading the richest verdure far and wide4#b ,here was the seat of ,king ,suddhodana1 ,his royal park1 walled by eternal hills1 ,where trees and shrubs and flowers all native grew2 ,for in its bounds all the four seasons met1 ,from ever-laughing1 ever-blooming spring ,to savage winter with eternal snows4 ,here stately palms1 the banyan's many trunks1 ,darkening whole acres with its grateful shade1 ,and bamboo groves1 with graceful waving plumes1 ,the champak1 with its fragrant golden flowers1 ,asokas1 one bright blaze of brilliant bloom1 ,the mohra1 yielding food and oil and wine1 ,the sacred sandal and the spreading oak1 ,the mountain-loving fir and spruce and pine1 ,and giant cedars1 grandest of them all1 ,planted in ages past1 and thinned and pruned ,with that high art that hides all trace of art1#c ,were placed to please the eye and show their form ,in groves1 in clumps1 in jungles and alone4 ,here all a forest seemed2 there open groves1 ,with vine-clad trees1 vines hanging from each limb1 ,a pendant chain of bloom1 with shaded drives ,and walks1 with rustic seats1 cool grots and dells1 ,with fountains playing and with babbling brooks1 ,and stately swans sailing on little lakes1 ,while peacocks1 rainbow-tinted shrikes1 pheasants1 ,glittering like precious stones1 parrots1 and birds ,of all rich plumage1 fly from tree to tree1 ,the whole scene vocal with sweet varied song2 ,and here a widespread lawn bedecked with flowers1 ,with clumps of brilliant roses grown to trees1 ,and fields with dahlias spread1#d not stiff and prim ,like the starched ruffle of an ancient dame1 ,but growing in luxuriance rich and wild1 ,the colors of the evening and the rainbow joined1 ,white1 scarlet1 yellow1 crimson1 deep maroon1 ,blending all colors in one dazzling blaze2 ,there orchards bend beneath their luscious loads2 ,here vineyards climb the hills thick set with grapes2 ,there rolling pastures spread1 where royal mares1 ,high bred1 and colts too young for bit or spur1 ,now quiet feed1 then1 as at trumpet's call1 ,with lion bounds1 tails floating1 neck outstretched1#e ,nostrils distended1 fleet as the flying wind ,they skim the plain1 and sweep in circles wide-- ,nature's ,olympic1 copied1 ne'er excelled4 ,here1 deer with dappled fawn bound o'er the grass1#f ,and sacred herds1 and sheep with skipping lambs2 ,there1 great white elephants in quiet nooks2 ,while high on cliffs framed in with living green ,goats climb and seem to hang and feed in air-- ,sweet spot1 with all to please and nothing to offend4 ,here on a hill the royal palace stood1 ,a gem of art2 and near1 another hill1 ,its top crowned by an aged banyan tree1 ,its sides clad in strange jyotismati grass1#g ,by day a sober brown1 but in the night ,glowing as if the hill were all aflame-- ,twin wonders to the dwellers in the plain1 ,their guides and landmarks day and night1 ,this glittering palace and this glowing hill4 ,within1 above the palace rose a tower1 ,which memory knew but as the ancient tower1 ,foursquare and high1 an altar and a shrine ,on its broad top1 where burned perpetual fire1 ,emblem of boundless and eternal love ,and truth that knows no night1 no cloud1 no change1 ,long since gone out1 with that most ancient faith ,in one great ,father1 source of life and light4#h ,still round this ancient tower1 strange hopes and fears1 ,and memories handed down from sire to son1 ,were clustered thick4 ,an army1 old men say1 ,once camped against the city1 when strange lights ,burst from this tower1 blinding their dazzled eyes4 ,they fled amazed1 nor dared to look behind4 ,the people bloody war and cruel bondage saw ,on every side1 and they at peace and free1 ,and thought a power to save dwelt in that tower4 ,and now strange prophecies and sayings old ,were everywhere rehearsed1 that from this hill ,should come a king or savior of the world4 ,even the poor dwellers in the distant plain ,looked up2 they too had heard that hence should come ,one quick to hear the poor and strong to save4 ,and who shall dare to chide their simple faith8 ,this humble reverence for the great unknown ,brings men near ,god1 and opens unseen worlds1 ,whence comes all life1 and where all power doth dwell4 ,morning and evening on this tower the king1 ,before the rising and the setting sun1 ,blindly1 but in his father's faith1 bowed down4 ,then he would rise and on his kingdom gaze4 ,east1 west1 hills beyond hills stretched far away1 ,wooded1 terraced1 or bleak and bald and bare1 ,till in dim distance all were leveled lost4 ,one rich and varied carpet spread far south1 ,of fields1 of groves1 of busy cities wrought1 ,with mighty rivers seeming silver threads2 ,and to the north the ,himalayan chain1 ,peak beyond peak1 a wall of crest and crag1 ,ice bound1 snow capped1 backed by intensest blue1 ,untrod1 immense1 that1 like a crystal wall4 ,in myriad varied tints the glorious light ,of rising and of setting sun reflects2 ,his noble city lying at his feet1 ,and his broad park1 tinged by the sun's slant rays ,a thousand softly rich and varied shades4 ,still on this scene of grandeur1 plenty1 peace ,and ever-varying beauty1 he would gaze ,with sadness4 ,he had heard these prophecies1 ,and felt the unrest in that great world within1 ,hid from our blinded eyes1 yet ever near1 ,the very soul and life of this dead world1 ,which seers and prophets open-eyed have seen1 ,on which the dying often raptured gaze1 ,and where they live when they are mourned as dead4 ,this world was now astir1 foretelling day4 ,a king shall come1 they say1 to rule the world1 ,if he will rule2 but whence this mighty king8 ,my years decline apace1 and yet no son ,of mine to rule or light my funeral pile4 ,one night ,queen ,maya1 sleeping by her lord1 ,dreamed a strange dream2 she dreamed she saw a star ,gliding from heaven and resting over her2 ,she dreamed she heard strange music1 soft and sweet1 ,so distant joy and peace was all she heard4 ,in joy and peace she wakes1 and waits to know ,what this strange dream might mean1 and whence it came4 ,drums1 shells and trumpets sound for joy1 not war2 ,the streets are swept and sprinkled with perfumes1 ,and myriad lamps shine from each house and tree1 ,and myriad flags flutter in every breeze1 ,and children crowned with flowers dance in the streets1 ,and all keep universal holiday ,with shows and games1 and laugh and dance and song1 ,for to the gentle queen a son is born1 ,to ,king ,suddhodana the good an heir4 ,but scarcely had these myriad lamps gone out1 ,the sounds of revelry had scarcely died1 ,when coming from the palace in hot haste1 ,one cried1 ,maya1 the gentle queen1 is dead4 ,then mirth was changed to sadness1 joy to grief1 ,for all had learned to love the gentle queen-- ,but at ,siddartha's birth this was foretold4 ,among the strangers bringing gifts from far1 ,there came an ancient sage--whence1 no one knew-- ,age-bowed1 head like the snow1 eyes filmed and white1 ,so deaf the thunder scarcely startled him1 ,who met them1 as they said1 three journeys back1 ,and all his talk was of a new-born king1 ,just born1 to rule the world if he would rule4 ,he was so gentle1 seemed so wondrous wise1 ,they followed him1 he following1 he said1 ,a light they could not see2 and when encamped1 ,morn1 noon and night devoutly would he pray1 ,and then would talk for hours1 as friend to friend1 ,with questionings about this new-born king1 ,gazing intently at the tent's blank wall1 ,with nods and smiles1 as if he saw and heard1 ,while they sit lost in wonder1 as one sits ,who never saw a telephone1 but hears ,unanswered questions1 laughter at unheard jests1 ,and sees one bid a little box good-by4 ,and when they came before the king1 they saw1 ,laughing and cooing on its mother's knee1 ,picture of innocence1 a sweet young child2 ,he saw a mighty prophet1 and bowed down ,eight times in reverence to the very ground1 ,and rising said1 ,thrice happy house1 all hail6 ,this child would rule the world1 if he would rule1 ,but he1 too good to rule1 is born to save2 ,but ,maya's work is done1 the devas wait4 ,but when they sought for him1 the sage was gone1 ,whence come or whither gone none ever knew4 ,then gentle ,maya understood her dream4 ,the music nearer1 clearer sounds2 she sleeps4 ,but when the funeral pile was raised for her1 ,of aloe1 sandal1 and all fragrant woods1 ,and decked with flowers and rich with rare perfumes1 ,and when the queen was gently laid thereon1 ,as in sweet sleep1 and the pile set aflame1 ,the king cried out in anguish2 when the sage ,again appeared1 and gently said1 ,weep not6 ,seek not1 ,o king1 the living with the dead6 ',tis but her cast-off garment1 not herself1 ,that now dissolves in air4 ,thy loved one lives1 ,become thy deva1#i who was erst thy queen4 ,this said1 he vanished1 and was no more seen4 ,now other hands take up that mother's task4 ,another breast nurses that sweet young child ,with growing love2 for who can nurse a child1 ,feel its warm breath1 and little dimpled hands1 ,kiss its soft lips1 look in its laughing eyes1 ,hear its low-cooing love-notes soft and sweet1 ,and not feel something of that miracle1 ,a mother's love--so old yet ever new1 ,stronger than death1 bravest among the brave1 ,gentle as brave1 watchful both night and day1 ,that never changes1 never tires nor sleeps4 ,whence comes this wondrous and undying love8 ,whence can it come1 unless it comes from heaven1 ,whose life is love--eternal1 perfect love6 ,from babe to boy1 from boy to youth he grew1 ,but more in grace and knowledge than in years4 ,at play his joyous laugh rang loud and clear1 ,his foot was fleetest in all boyish games1 ,and strong his arm1 and steady nerve and eye1 ,to whirl the quoit and send the arrow home2 ,yet seeming oft to strive1 he'd check his speed ,and miss his mark to let a comrade win4 ,in fullness of young life he climbed the cliffs ,where human foot had never trod before4 ,he led the chase1 but when soft-eyed gazelles ,or bounding deer1 or any harmless thing1 ,came in the range of his unerring dart1 ,he let them pass2 for why1 thought he1 should men ,in wantonness make war on innocence8 ,one day the ,prince ,siddartha saw the grooms ,gathered about a stallion1 snowy white1 ,descended from that great ,nisaean stock ,his fathers brought from ,iran's distant plain1 ,named ,kantaka4 ,some held him fast with chains ,till one could mount4 ,he1 like a lion snared1 ,frantic with rage and fear1 did fiercely bound4 ,they cut his tender mouth with bloody bit1 ,beating his foaming sides until the ,prince1 ,sterner than was his wont1 bade them desist1 ,while he spoke soothingly1 patted his head ,and stroked his neck1 and dropped those galling chains1 ,when ,kantaka's fierce flaming eyes grew mild1 ,he quiet stood1 by gentleness subdued-- ,such mighty power hath gentleness and love-- ,and from that day no horse so strong and fleet1 ,so kind and true1 easy to check and guide1 ,as ,kantaka1 ,siddartha's noble steed4 ,to playmates he was gentle as a girl2 ,yet should the strong presume upon their strength ,to overbear or wrong those weaker than themselves1 ,his sturdy arm and steady eye checked them1 ,and he would gently say1 ,brother1 not so2 ,our strength was given to aid and not oppress4 ,for in an ancient book he found a truth-- ,a book no longer read1 a truth forgot1 ,entombed in iron castes1 and buried deep ,in speculations and in subtle creeds-- ,that men1 high1 low1 rich1 poor1 are brothers all1#aj ,which1 pondered much in his heart's fruitful soil1 ,had taken root as a great living truth ,that to a mighty doctrine soon would grow1 ,a mighty tree to heal the nations with its leaves-- ,like some small grain of wheat1 appearing dead1 ,in mummy-case three thousand years ago#aa ,securely wrapped and sunk in ,egypt's tombs1 ,themselves buried beneath the desert sands1 ,which now brought forth1 and planted in fresh soil1 ,and watered by the dews and rains of heaven1 ,shoots up and yields a hundred-fold of grain1 ,until in golden harvests now it waves ,on myriad acres1 many thousand miles ,from where the single ancient seed had grown4 ,thus he grew up with all that heart could wish ,or power command2 his very life itself1 ,so fresh and young1 sound body with sound mind1 ,the living fountain of perpetual joy4 ,yet he would often sit and sadly think ,sad thoughts and deep1 and far beyond his years2 ,how sorrow filled the world2 how things were shared-- ,one born to waste1 another born to want2 ,one for life's cream1 others to drain its dregs2 ,one born a master1 others abject slaves4 ,and when he asked his masters to explain1 ,when all were brothers1 how such things could be1 ,they gave him speculations1 fables old1 ,how ,brahm first ,brahmans made to think for all1 ,and then ,kshatriyas1 warriors from their birth1 ,then ,sudras1 to draw water and hew wood4 ,but why should one for others think1 when all ,must answer for themselves8 ,why brothers fight8 ,and why one born another's slave1 when all ,might serve and help each other8 he would ask4 ,but they could only answer3 ,never doubt1 ,for so the holy ,brahmans always taught4 ,still he must think1 and as he thought he sighed1 ,not for his petty griefs that last an hour1 ,but for the bitter sorrows of the world ,that crush all men1 and last from age to age4 ,the good old king saw this--saw that the prince1 ,the apple of his eye1 dearer than life1 ,stately in form1 supple and strong in limb1 ,quick to learn every art of peace and war1 ,displaying and excelling every grace ,and attribute of his most royal line1 ,whom all would follow whereso'er he led1 ,so fit to rule the world if he would rule1 ,thought less of ruling than of saving men4 ,he saw the glory of his ancient house ,suspended on an if--if he will rule ,the empire of the world1 and power to crush ,those cruel1 bloody kings who curse mankind1 ,and power to make a universal peace2 ,if not this high career1 with glory crowned1 ,then seeking truth through folly's devious ways2 ,by self-inflicted torture seeking bliss1 ,and by self-murder seeking higher life2 ,on one foot standing till the other pine1 ,arms stretched aloft1 fingers grown bloodless claws1 ,or else1 impaled on spikes1 with festering sores ,covered from head to foot1 the body wastes ,with constant anguish and with slow decay4#ab ,can this be wisdom8 ,can such a life be good ,that shuns all duties lying in our path-- ,useless to others1 filled with grief and pain8 ,not so my father's god teaches to live4 ,rising each morning most exact in time1 ,he bathes the earth and sky with rosy light ,and fills all nature with new life and joy2 ,the cock's shrill clarion calls us to awake ,and breathe this life and hear the bursts of song ,that fill each grove1 inhale the rich perfume ,of opening flowers1 and work while day shall last4 ,then rising higher1 he warms each dank1 cold spot1 ,dispels the sickening vapors1 clothes the fields ,with waving grain1 the trees with golden fruit1 ,the vines with grapes2 and when 'tis time for rest1 ,sinks in the west1 and with new glory gilds ,the mountain-tops1 the clouds and western sky1 ,and calls all nature to refreshing sleep4 ,if he be ,god1 the useful are like ,god2 ,if not1 ,god made the sun1 who made all men ,and by his great example teaches them ,the diligent are wise1 the useful good4 ,sorely perplexed he called his counselors1 ,grown gray in serving their beloved king1 ,and said3 ,friends of my youth1 manhood and age1 ,so wise in counsel and so brave in war1 ,who never failed in danger or distress1 ,oppressed with fear1 ,i come to you for aid4 ,you know the prophecies1 that from my house ,shall come a king1 or savior of the world4 ,you saw strange signs precede ,siddartha's birth1 ,and saw the ancient sage whom no one knew ,fall down before the prince1 and hail my house4 ,you heard him tell the queen she soon would die1 ,and saw her sink in death as in sweet sleep2 ,you laid her gently on her funeral pile1 ,and heard my cry of anguish1 when the sage ,again appeared and bade me not to weep ,for her as dead who lived and loved me still4 ,we saw the prince grow up to man's estate1 ,so strong and full of manliness and grace1 ,and wise beyond his teachers and his years1 ,and thought in him the prophecies fulfilled1 ,and that with glory he would rule the world ,and bless all men with universal peace4 ,but now dark shadows fall athwart our hopes4 ,often in sleep the prince will start and cry ,as if in pain1 ',o world1 sad world1 ,i come6' ,but roused1 he'll sometimes sit the livelong day1 ,forgetting teachers1 sports and even food1 ,as if with dreadful visions overwhelmed1 ,or buried in great thoughts profound and deep4 ,but yet to see our people1 riding forth1 ,to their acclaims he answers with such grace ,and gentle stateliness1 my heart would swell ,as ,i would hear the people to each other say2 ',who ever saw such grace and grandeur joined8' ,yet while he answers gladness with like joy1 ,his eyes seem searching for the sick and old1 ,the poor1 and maimed1 and blind--all forms of grief1 ,and oft he'd say1 tears streaming from his eyes1#ac ',let us return2 my heart can bear no more4' ,one day we saw beneath a peepul-tree ,an aged ,brahman1 wasted with long fasts1 ,loathsome with self-inflicted ghastly wounds1 ,a rigid skeleton1 standing erect1 ,one hand stretched out1 the other stretched aloft1 ,his long white beard grown filthy by neglect4 ,whereat the prince with shuddering horror shook1 ,and cried1 ',o world6 must ,i be such for thee8' ,and once he led the chase of a wild boar ,in the great forest near the glacier's foot2 ,on ,kantaka so fleet he soon outstripped ,the rest1 and in the distance disappeared4 ,but when at night they reached the rendezvous1 ,siddartha was not there2 and through the night ,they searched1 fearing to find their much loved prince ,a mangled corpse under some towering cliff1 ,but searched in vain1 and searched again next day1 ,till in despair they thought to bring me word ,the prince was lost1 when ,kantaka was seen ,loose-reined and free1 and near ,siddartha sat ,under a giant cedar's spreading shade4 ,absorbed in thought1 in contemplation lost1 ,unconscious that a day and night had passed4 ,i cannot reason with such earnestness-- ,i dare not chide such deep and tender love1 ,but much ,i fear his reason's overthrow ,or that he may become like that recluse ,he shuddered at1 and not a mighty king ,with power to crush the wrong and aid the right4 ,how can we turn his mind from such sad thoughts ,to life's full joys1 the duties of a king1 ,and his great destiny so long foretold8 ,the oldest and the wisest answered him3 ,most noble king1 your thoughts have long been mine4 ,oft have ,i seen him lost in musings sad1 ,and overwhelmed with this absorbing love4 ,i know no cure for such corroding thoughts ,but thoughts less sad1 for such absorbing love ,but stronger love4 ,but how awake such thoughts8 ,the king replied4 ,how kindle such a love8 ,his loves seem but as phosphorescent flames ,that skim the surface1 leaving him heart-whole-- ,all but this deep and all-embracing love ,that folds within its arms a suffering world4 ,yes1 noble king1 so roams the antlered deer1 ,adding each year a branch to his great horns1 ,until the unseen archer lays him low4 ,so lives our prince2 but he may see the day ,two laughing eyes shall pierce his inmost soul1 ,and make his whole frame quiver with new fire4 ,the next full moon he reaches man's estate4 ,we all remember fifty years ago ,when you became a man1 the sports and games1 ,the contests of fair women and brave men1 ,in beauty1 arts and arms1 that filled three days ,with joy and gladness1 music1 dance and song4 ,let us with double splendor now repeat ,that festival1 with prizes that shall draw ,from all your kingdom and the neighbor states ,their fairest women and their bravest men4 ,if any chance shall bring his destined mate1 ,you then shall see love dart from eye to eye1 ,as darts the lightning's flash from cloud to cloud4 ,and this seemed good1 and so was ordered done4 ,the king to all his kingdom couriers sent1 ,and to the neighbor states1 inviting all ,to a great festival and royal games ,the next full moon1 day of ,siddartha's birth1 ,and offering varied prizes1 rich and rare1 ,to all in feats of strength and speed and skill1 ,and prizes doubly rich and doubly rare ,to all such maidens fair as should compete ,in youth and beauty1 whencesoe'er they came1 ,the prince to be the judge and give the prize4 ,now all was joy and bustle in the streets1 ,and joy and stir in palace and in park1 ,the prince himself joining the joyful throng1 ,forgetting now the sorrows of the world4 ,devising and directing new delights ,until the park became a fairy scene4 ,behind the palace lay a maidan wide ,for exercise in arms and manly sports1 ,its sides bordered by gently rising hills1 ,where at their ease the city's myriads sat ,under the shade of high-pruned spreading trees1 ,fanned by cool breezes from the snow-capped peaks2 ,while north1 and next the lake1 a stately dome ,stood out1 on slender1 graceful columns raised1 ,with seats1 rank above rank1 in order placed1 ,the throne above1 and near the throne were bowers ,of slender lattice-work1 with trailing vines1 ,thick set with flowers of every varied tint1 ,breathing perfumes1 where beauty's champions ,might sit1 unseen of all yet seeing all4 ,at length ,siddartha's natal day arrives ,with joy to rich and poor1 to old and young--- ,not joy that wealth can buy or power command1 ,but real joy1 that springs from real love1 ,love to the good old king and noble prince4 ,when dawning day tinges with rosy light ,the snow-capped peaks of ,himalaya's chain1 ,the people are astir4 ,in social groups1 ,the old and young1 companions1 neighbors1 friends1 ,baskets well filled1 they choose each vantage-ground1 ,until each hill a sea of faces shows1 ,a sea of sparkling joy and rippling mirth4 ,at trumpet-sound all eyes are eager turned ,up toward the palace gates1 now open wide1 ,from whence a gay procession issues forth1 ,a chorus of musicians coming first1 ,and next the prince mounted on ,kantaka2 ,then all the high-born1 youth in rich attire1 ,mounted on prancing steeds with trappings gay2 ,and then the good old king1 in royal state1 ,on his huge elephant1 white as the snow1 ,surrounded by his aged counselors1 ,some on their chargers1 some in litters borne1 ,their long white beards floating in every breeze2 ,and next1 competitors for every prize3 ,twelve archers1 who could pierce the lofty swans ,sailing from feeding-grounds by distant seas ,to summer nests by ,thibet's marshy lakes1 ,or hit the whirring pheasant as it flies-- ,for in this peaceful reign they did not make ,men targets for their art1 and armor-joints ,the marks through which to pierce and kill2 ,then wrestlers1 boxers1 those who hurl the quoit1 ,and runners fleet1 both lithe and light of limb2 ,and then twelve mighty spearmen1 who could pierce ,the fleeing boar or deer or fleet gazelle2 ,then chariots1 three horses yoked to each1 ,the charioteers in ,persian tunics clad1 ,arms bare1 legs bare--all were athletes in power1 ,in form and race each an ,apollo seemed2 ,yoked to the first were three ,nisaean steeds1#ad ,each snowy white1 proud stepping1 rangy1 tall1 ,chests broad1 legs clean and strong1 necks arched and high1 ,with foreheads broad1 and eyes large1 full and mild1 ,a race that oft ,olympic prizes won1 ,and whose descendants far from ,iran's plains ,bore armored knights in battle's deadly shock ,on many bloody ,european fields2 ,then three of ancient ,babylonian stock1#ae ,blood bay and glossy as rich ,tyrian silk-- ,such horses ,israel's sacred prophets saw ,bearing their conquerors in triumph home1 ,a race for ages kept distinct and pure1 ,fabled from ,alexander's charger sprung2 ,then three from distant desert ,tartar steppes1 ,ewe-necked1 ill-favored creatures1 lank and gaunt1 ,that made the people laugh as they passed by-- ,who ceased to laugh when they had run the race-- ,such horses bore the mighty ,mongol hosts#af ,that with the cyclone's speed swept o'er the earth2 ,then three1 one gray1 one bay1 one glossy black1 ,descended from four horses long since brought ,by love-sick chief from ,araby the blest1 ,seeking with such rare gifts an ,indian bride1 ,whose slender1 graceful forms1 compact and light1 ,combined endurance1 beauty1 strength and speed-- ,a wondrous breed1 whose famed descendants bore ,the ,moslem hosts that swept from off the earth ,thy mighty power1 corrupt1 declining ,rome1 ,and with each other now alone contend ,in speed1 whose sons cast out1 abused and starved1 ,alone can save from raging whirlwind flames#ag ,that all-devouring sweep our western plains2 ,then stately elephants came next in line1 ,with measured step and gently swaying gait1 ,covered with cloth of gold richly inwrought1 ,each bearing in a howdah gaily decked ,a fair competitor for beauty's prize1 ,with merry comrades and some sober friend2 ,the vina1 bansuli1 sitar and harp ,filling the air with sweetest melody1 ,while rippling laughter from each howdah rang1 ,and sweetest odors1 as from op'ning flowers1 ,breathed from their rich apparel as they passed4 ,and thus they circle round the maidan wide1 ,and as they pass along the people shout1 ,long live the king6 long live our noble prince6 ,to all which glad acclaims the prince responds ,with heartfelt courtesy and royal grace4 ,when they had nearly reached the palace gate ,on their return1 the king drew to the right ,with his attendants1 while the prince with his ,drew to the left1 reviewing all the line ,that passed again down to the judges' seat1 ,under the king's pavilion near the lake4 ,the prince eagerly watched them as they passed1 ,noting their brawny limbs and polished arms1 ,the pose and skill of every charioteer1 ,the parts and varied breed of every horse1 ,aiding his comrades with his deeper skill4 ,but when the queens of beauty passed him by1 ,he was all smiles and gallantry and grace1 ,until the last1 ,yasodhara1 came near1 ,whose laugh was clearest of the merry crowd1 ,whose golden hair imprisoned sunlight seemed1 ,whose cheek1 blending the lily with the rose1 ,spoke of more northern skies and ,aryan blood1 ,whose rich1 not gaudy1 robes exquisite taste ,had made to suit her so they seemed a part ,of her sweet self2 whose manner1 simple1 free1 ,not bold or shy1 whose features--no one saw ,her features1 for her soul covered her face ,as with a veil of ever-moving life4 ,when she came near1 and her bright eyes met his1 ,he seemed to start2 his gallantry was gone1 ,and like an awkward boy he sat and gazed2 ,and her laugh too was hushed1 and she passed on1 ,passed out of sight but never out of mind1 ,the king and all his counselors saw this4 ,good king1 our deer is struck1 ,asita said1 ,if this love cure him not1 nothing can cure4 #a,lieutenant-,general ,briggs1 in his lectures on the aboriginal races of ,india1 says the ,hindoos themselves refer the excavation of caves and temples to the period of the aboriginal kings4 #b,the art of irrigation1 once practiced on such a mighty scale1 now seems practically a lost art but just now being revived on our western plains4 #c;,and1 that which all faire workes doth most aggrace1 ,the art1 which all that wrought1 appeared in no place4 --,faerie ,queene1 ,b4 #b1 ,canto #ab4 #d,see ,miss ,gordon ,cumming's descriptions of the fields of wild dahlias in ,northern ,india4 #e;,by far the finest display of the mettle and blood of high-bred horses ,i have ever seen has been in the pasture-field1 and this description is drawn from life4 #f,once1 coming upon a little prairie in the midst of a great forest1 ,i saw a herd of startled deer bound over the grass1 a scene never to be forgotten4 #g,see ,miss ,gordon ,cumming's description of a hill covered with this luminous grass4 #h,there can be no doubt that the fire-worship of the ,east is the remains of a true but largely emblematic religion4 #i,the difference between the ,buddhist idea of a deva and the ,christian idea of an attendant angel is scarcely perceptible4 #aj,the ,brahmans claim that ,buddha's great doctrine of universal brotherhood was taken from their sacred books and was not an originality of ,buddha1 as his followers claim4 #aa,the ,mediterranean or ,egyptian wheat is said to have this origin4 #ab;,at the time of ,buddha's birth there seemed to be no mean between the ,chakravartin or absolute monarch and the recluse who had renounced all ordinary duties and enjoyments1 and was subjecting himself to all deprivations and sufferings4 ,buddha taught the middle course of diligence in daily duties and universal love4 #ac;,i am aware that some ,buddhist authors whom ,arnold has followed in his ,light of ,asia make ,buddha but little better than a stale prisoner1 and would have us believe that the glimpses he got of the ills that flesh is heir to were gained in spite of all precautions1 as he was occasionally taken out of his rose embowered1 damsel filled prison-house1 and not as any prince of high intelligence and tender sensibilities who loved his people and mingled freely with them would gain a knowledge of suffering and sorrow2 but we are justified in passing all such fancies1 not only on account of their intrinsic improbability1 but because the great ,asvaghosha1 who wrote about the beginning of our era1 knew nothing of them4 #ad,to suppose that the ,aryan races when they emigrated to ,india or ,europe left behind them their most valuable possession1 the ,nisaean horse1 is to suppose them lacking in the qualities of thrift and shrewdness which have distinguished their descendants4 ,that the ,nisaean horse of the table-lands of ,asia was the horse of the armored knights of the middle ages and substantially the ,percheron horse of ,france1 ,i had a curious proof3 ,in ,layard's ,nineveh is a picture of a ,nisaean horse found among the ruins1 which would have been taken as a good picture ,of a ,percheron stallion ,i once owned1 who stood for the picture here drawn of what ,i regard as his undoubted ancestor4 #ae,marco ,polo speaks of the breed of horses here attempted to be described as excellent1 large1 strong and swift1 said to be of the race of ,alexander's ,bucephalus4 #af;,it is said that the ,mongolians in their career of conquest could move an army of #ejj1jjj fifty miles a day1 a speed out of the question with all the facilities of modern warfare4 #ag,see ,bret ,harte's beautiful poem1 ,sell ,patchin1 and also an article on the ,horses of the ,plains1 in ,the ,century1 ,january1 #ahhi4 ,,book ,,ii4 ,she passed along1 and then the king and prince ,with their attendants wheeled in line and moved ,down to the royal stand1 each to his place4 ,the trumpets sound1 and now the games begin4 ,but see the scornful curl of ,culture's lip ,at such low sports6 ,dyspeptic preachers hear ,harangue the sleepers on their sinfulness6 ,hear grave philosophers1 so limp and frail ,they scarce can walk ,god's earth to breathe his air1 ,talk of the waste of time6 ,short-sighted men6 ,god made the body just to fit the mind1 ,each part exact1 no scrimping and no waste-- ,neglect the body and you cramp the soul4 ,first brawny wrestlers1 shining from the bath1 ,wary and watchful1 quick with arm and eye1 ,after long play clinch close1 arms twined1 knees locked1 ,each nerve and muscle strained1 and stand as still ,as if a bronze from ,vulcan's fabled shop1 ,or else by power of magic changed to stone ,in that supremest moment1 when a breath ,or feather's weight would tip the balanced scale2 ,and when they fall the shouts from hill to hill ,sound like the voices of the mighty deep1 ,as wave on wave breaks on the rock-bound shore4 ,then boxers1 eye to eye and foot to foot1 ,one arm at guard1 the other raised to strike4 ,the hurlers of the quoit next stand in line1 ,measure the distance with experienced eye1 ,adjust the rings1 swing them with growing speed1 ,until at length on very tiptoe poised1 ,like ,mercury just lighted on the earth1 ,with mighty force they whirl them through the air4 ,and then the spearmen1 having for a mark ,a lion rampant1 standing as in life1 ,so distant that it seemed but half life-size1 ,each vital part marked with a little ring4 ,and when the spears were hurled1 six trembling stood ,fixed in the beast1 piercing each vital part1 ,leaving the victory in even scale4 ,for these was set far off a lesser mark1 ,until at length by chance1 not lack of skill1 ,the victory so long in doubt was won4 ,and then again the people wildly shout1 ,the prince victor and nobly vanquished praised4 ,next runners1 lithe and light1 glide round the plain1 ,whose flying feet like ,mercury's seemed winged1 ,their chests expanded1 and their swinging arms ,like oars to guide and speed their rapid course2 ,and as they passed along the people cheered ,each well-known master of the manly art4 ,then archers1 with broad chests and brawny arms ,such as the blacksmith's heavy hammer wields ,with quick1 hard blows that make the anvil ring ,and myriad sparks from the hot iron fly2 ,a golden eagle on a screen their mark1 ,so distant that it seemed a sparrow's size-- ,for1 said the prince1 let not this joyful day ,give anguish to the smallest living thing4 ,they strain their bows until their muscles seem ,like knotted cords1 the twelve strings twang at once1 ,and the ground trembles as at the swelling tones ,of mighty organs or the thunder's roll4 ,two arrows pierce the eagle1 while the rest ,all pierce the screen4 ,a second mark was set1 ,when lo6 high up in air two lines of swans1 ,having one leader1 seek their northern nests1 ,their white plumes shining in the noonday sun1 ,calling each other in soft mellow notes4 ,instant one of the people cries ,a mark6 ,whereat the thousands shout ,a mark6 a mark6 ,one of the archers chose the leader1 one the last4 ,their arrows fly4 ,the last swan left its mates ,as if sore wounded1 while the first came down ,like a great eagle swooping for its prey1 ,and fell before the prince1 its strong wing pierced1 ,its bright plumes darkened by its crimson blood4 ,whereat the people shout1 and shout again1 ,until the hills repeat the mighty sound4 ,the prince gently but sadly raised the bird1 ,stroked tenderly its plumes1 calmed its wild fear1 ,and gave to one to care for and to cure4 ,and now the people for the chariot-race ,grow eager1 while beneath the royal stand1 ,by folding doors hid from the public view1 ,the steeds1 harnessed and ready1 champ their bits ,and paw the ground1 impatient for the start4 ,the charioteers alert1 with one strong hand ,hold high the reins1 the other holds the lash4 ,timour--a name that since has filled the world1 ,a ,tartar chief1 whose sons long after swept ,as with destruction's broom fair ,india's plains-- ,with northern jargon calmed his eager steeds2 ,azim1 from ,cashmere's rugged lovely vale1 ,his prancing ,babylonians firmly held2 ,channa1 from ,ganges' broad and sacred stream1 ,with bit and word checked his ,nisaean three2 ,while ,devadatta1 cousin to the prince1 ,soothed his impatient ,arabs with such terms ,as fondest mothers to their children use2 ,atair1 my pet6 ,mira1 my baby1 hush6 ,regil1 my darling child1 be still6 be still6 ,with necks high arched1 nostrils distended wide1 ,and eager gaze1 they stood as those that saw ,some distant object in their desert home4 ,at length the gates open as of themselves1 ,when at the trumpet's sound the steeds dash forth ,as by one spirit moved1 under tight rein1 ,and neck and neck they thunder down the plain1 ,while rising dust-clouds chase the flying wheels4 ,but weight1 not lack of nerve or spirit1 tells2 ,azim and ,channa urge their steeds in vain1 ,by ,tartar and light ,arab left behind ,as the light galley leaves the man-of-war2 ,they sweat and labor ere a mile is gained1 ,while their light rivals pass the royal stand ,fresh as at first1 just warming to the race4 ,and now the real race at length begins1 ,a double race1 such as the ,romans loved4 ,horses so matched in weight and strength and speed1 ,drivers so matched in skill that as they pass ,azim and ,channa seemed a single man4 ,timour and ,devadatta1 side by side1 ,wheel almost touching wheel1 dash far ahead4 ,azim and ,channa1 left so far behind1 ,no longer urge a race already lost4 ,the ,babylonian and ,nisaean steeds1 ,no longer pressed so far beyond their power1 ,with long and even strides sweep smoothly on1 ,striking the earth as with a single blow1 ,their hot breath rising in a single cloud4 ,arab and ,tartar with a longer stride ,and lighter stroke skim lightly o'er the ground4 ,watching the horses with a master's eye1 ,as ,devadatta and ,timour four times1 ,azim and ,channa thrice1 swept by the stand1 ,the prince saw that another round would test1 ,not overtax1 their powers1 and gave the sign1 ,when three loud trumpet-blasts to all proclaimed ,that running one more round would end the race4 ,these ringing trumpet-calls that brought defeat ,or victory so near1 startle and rouse4 ,the charioteers more ardent urge their steeds2 ,the steeds are with hot emulation fired2 ,the social multitude now cease to talk-- ,even age stops short in stories often told2 ,boys1 downy-chinned1 in rough-and-tumble sports ,like half-grown bears engaged1 turn quick and look2 ,and blooming girls1 with merry ringing laugh1 ,romping in gentler games1 watching meanwhile ,with sly and sidelong look the rougher sports1 ,turn eagerly to see the scene below2 ,while mothers for the time forget their babes1 ,and lovers who had sought out quiet nooks ,to tell the tale that all the past has told ,and coming times will tell1 stand mute and gaze4 ,the home-stretch soon is reached1 and ,channa's three ,by word and lash urged to their topmost speed1 ,the foaming ,babylonians left behind1 ,while ,devadatta and ,timour draw near1 ,a whole round gained1 ,timour a length ahead4 ,but ,devadatta loosens now his reins1 ,chides his fleet pets1 with lash swung high in air ,wounds their proud spirits1 not their tender flesh4 ,with lion-bounds they pass the ,tartar steeds1 ,that with hot rival rage and open mouths1 ,and flaming eyes1 and fierce and angry cries1 ,dash full at ,regil's side1 but dash in vain4 ,fear adding speed1 the ,arabs sweep ahead4 ,meanwhile the prince springs forward from his seat1 ,and all on tiptoe still and eager stand1 ,so that the rumbling of the chariot-wheels1 ,the tramp of flying feet and drivers' cries1 ,alone the universal stillness break-- ,as when before the bursting of some fearful storm1 ,birds1 beasts and men stand mute with trembling awe1 ,while heaven's artillery and roaring winds ,are in the awful silence only heard4 ,but when the double victory is gained1 ,drums1 shells and trumpets mingle with the shouts ,from hill to hill re-echoed and renewed-- ,as when1 after the morning's threatening bow1 ,dark1 lurid1 whirling clouds obscure the day1 ,and forked lightnings dart athwart the sky1 ,and angry winds roll up the boiling sea1 ,and thunder1 raging winds and warring waves ,join in one mighty and earth shaking roar4 ,thus end the games1 and the procession forms1 ,the king and elders first1 contestants next1 ,and last the prince2 each victor laurel-crowned1 ,and after each his prize1 while all were given ,some choice memorial of the happy day-- ,cinctures to all athletes to gird the loins ,and falling just below the knee1 the belt ,of stoutest leather1 joined with silver clasps1 ,the skirt of softest wool or finest silk1 ,adorned with needlework and decked with gems1 ,such as the modest ,aryans always wore ,in games intended for the public view1 ,before the ,greeks became degenerate1 ,and savage ,rome compelled those noble men ,whose only crime was love of liberty1 ,by discipline and numbers overwhelmed1 ,bravely defending children1 wife and home1 ,naked to fight each other or wild beasts1 ,and called this brutal savagery high sport ,for them and for their proud degenerate dames1 ,of whom few were what ,caesar's wife should be4 ,the athletes' prizes all were rich and rare1 ,some costly emblem of their several arts4 ,the archers' prizes all were bows2 the first ,made from the horns of a great mountain-goat ,that long had ranged the ,himalayan heights1 ,till some bold hunter climbed his giddy cliffs ,and brought his unsuspecting victim down4 ,his lofty horns the bowsmith root to root ,had firmly joined1 and polished1 bright1 ,and tipped with finest gold1 and made a bow ,worthy of ,sinhahamu's#a mighty arm4 ,the other prizes1 bows of lesser strength ,but better suited to their weaker arms4 ,a chariot1 the charioteers' first prize1#b ,its slender hubs made strong with brazen bands1 ,the spokes of whitest ivory polished bright1 ,the fellies ebony1 with tires of bronze1 ,each axle's end a brazen tiger's head1 ,the body woven of slender bamboo shoots ,intwined with silver wire and decked with gold4 ,a mare and colt of the victorious breed ,the second prize1 more worth in ,timour's eyes4 ,than forty chariots1 though each were made ,of ebony or ivory or gold1 ,and all the laurel ,india ever grew4 ,the third1 a tunic of soft ,cashmere wool1 ,on which1 by skillful needles deftly wrought1 ,the race itself as if in life stood forth4 ,the fourth1 a belt to gird the laggard's loins ,and whip to stimulate his laggard steeds4 ,and thus arrayed they moved once round the course1 ,then to the palace1 as a fitter place ,for beauty's contest than the open plain2 ,the singers chanting a triumphal hymn1 ,while many instruments1 deep toned and shrill1 ,and all the multitude1 the chorus swell4 ,this day his mission ceased to press the prince1 ,and he forgot the sorrows of the world1 ,so deep and earnest seemed the general joy4 ,even those with grinning skeletons at home ,in secret closets locked from public view1 ,and care and sorrow rankling at their hearts1 ,joined in the general laugh and swelled the shouts1 ,and seemed full happy though they only seemed4 ,but through the games1 while all was noisy mirth1 ,he felt a new1 strange feeling at his heart1 ,and ever and anon he stole a glance ,at beauty's rose-embowered hiding-place1 ,to catch a glimpse of those two laughing eyes1 ,so penetrating yet so soft and mild4 ,and at the royal banquet spread for all ,it chanced ,yasodhara sat next the prince-- ,an accident by older heads designed-- ,and the few words that such constraint allowed ,were music to his ears and touched his heart2 ,and when her eyes met his her rosy blush ,told what her maiden modesty would hide4 ,and at the dance1 when her soft hands touched his ,the music seemed to quicken1 time to speed2 ,but when she bowed and passed to other hands1 ,winding the mystic measure of the dance1#c ,the music seemed to slacken1 time to halt1 ,or drag his limping moments lingering on4 ,at length1 after the dance1 the beauties passed ,before the prince1 and each received her prize4 ,so rich and rare that each thought hers the first1 ,a treasure to be kept and shown with pride1 ,and handed down to children yet unborn4 ,but when ,yasodhara before him stood1 ,the prizes all were gone2 but from his neck ,he took a golden chain thick set with gems1 ,and clasped it round her slender waist1 and said3 ,take this1 and keep it for the giver's sake4 ,and from the prince they passed before the king4 ,the proud and stately he would greet with grace1 ,the timid cheer with kind and gracious words4 ,but when ,yasodhara bowed low and passed1 ,he started1 and his color went and came ,as if oppressed with sudden inward pain4 ,asita1 oldest of his counselors1 ,sprang to his side and asked3 ,what ails the king8 ,nothing1 my friend1 nothing1 the king replied1 ,but the sharp probing of an ancient wound4 ,you know how my sweet queen was loved of all-- ,but how her life was woven into mine1 ,filling my inmost soul1 none e'er can know4 ,my bitter anguish words can never tell1 ,as that sweet life was gently breathed away4 ,time only strengthens this enduring love1 ,and she seems nearer me as ,i grow old4 ,often in stillest night's most silent hour1 ,when the sly nibbling of a timid mouse ,in the deep stillness sounds almost as loud ,as builders' hammers in the busy day1 ,my ,maya as in life stands by my side4 ,a halo round her head1 as she would say3 ',a little while1 and you shall have your own4' ,often in deepest sleep she seems to steal ,into that inmost chamber of my soul ,vacant for her1 and nestle to my heart1 ,breathing a peace my waking hours know not4 ,and when ,i wake1 and turn to clasp my love ,my sinking heart finds but her vacant place4 ,since that sad day that stole her from my arms ,i've seen a generation of sweet girls ,grow up to womanhood1 but none like her6 ,hut that bright vision that just flitted by ,seemed so like her it made me cringe and start4 ,o dear ,asita1 little worth is life1 ,with all its tears and partings1 woes and pains1 ,if when its short and fitful fever ends ,there is no after-life1 where death and pain1 ,and sundered ties1 and crushed and bleeding hearts1 ,and sad and last farewells are never known4 ,such was the old and such the new-born love2 ,the new quick bursting into sudden flame1 ,warming the soul to active consciousness ,that man alone is but a severed part ,of one full1 rounded1 perfect1 living whole2 ,the old a steady but undying flame1 ,a living longing for the loved and lost2 ,but each a real hunger of the soul ,for what gave paradise its highest bliss1 ,and what in this poor fallen world of ours ,gives glimpses of its high and happy life4 ,o love6 how beautiful6 how pure6 how sweet6 ,life of the angels that surround ,god's throne6 ,but when corrupt1 ,pandora's box itself1 ,whence spring all human ills and woes and crimes1 ,the very fire that lights the flames of hell4 ,the festival is past4 ,the crowds have gone1 ,the diligent to their accustomed round ,of works and days1 works to each day assigned1 ,the thoughtless and the thriftless multitude ,to meet their tasks haphazard as they come1 ,but all the same old story to repeat ,of cares and sorrows sweetened by some joys4 ,three days the sweet ,yasodhara remained1 ,for her long journey taking needful rest4 ,but when the rosy dawn next tinged the east ,and lit the mountain-tops and filled the park ,with a great burst of rich and varied song1 ,the good old king bade the sweet girl farewell1 ,imprinting on her brow a loving kiss1 ,while welling up from tender memories ,big tear-drops trickled down his furrowed cheeks4 ,and as her train1 escorted by the prince ,and noble youth1 wound slowly down the hill1 ,the rising sun with glory gilds the city ,that like a diadem circled its brow1 ,while giant shadows stretch across the plain2 ,and when they reach the plain they halt for rest ,deep in a garden's cooling shade1 where flowers ,that fill the air with grateful fragrance hang ,by ripening fruits1 and where all seems at rest ,save two young hearts and tiny tireless birds ,that dart from flower to newer to suck their sweets1 ,and even the brook that babbled down the hill ,now murmurs dreamily as if asleep4 ,sweet spot6 sweet hour6 how quick its moments fly6 ,how soon the cooling winds and sinking sun ,and bustling stir of preparation tells ',tis time for her to go2 and when they part1 ,the gentle pressure of the hand1 one kiss-- ,a kiss not given yet not resisted--tells ,a tale of love that words are poor to tell4 ,and when she goes how lonely seems her way ,through groves1 through fields1 through busy haunts of men2 ,and as he climbs the hill and often stops ,to watch her lessening train until at length ,her elephant seems but a moving speck1 ,proud ,kantaka1 pawing and neighing1 asks ,as plain as men could ever ask in1 words3 ,what makes my master choose this laggard pace8 ,at length she climbs those rocky1 rugged hills4 ,that guarded well the loveliest spot on earth ,until the ,moguls centuries after came1 ,like swarms of locusts swept before the wind1 ,or ravening wolves1 to conquer fair ,cashmere4#d ,and when she reached the top1 before her lay1 ,as on a map spread out1 her native land1 ,by lofty mountains walled on every side1 ,from winds1 from wars1 and from the world shut out2 ,the same great snow-capped mountains north and east ,in silent1 glittering1 awful grandeur stand1 ,and west the same bold1 rugged1 cliff-crowned hills4 ,that filled her eyes with wonder when a child4 ,below the snow a belt of deepest green2 ,below this belt of green great rolling hills1 ,checkered with orchards1 vineyards1 pastures1 fields1 ,the vale beneath peaceful as sleeping babe1 ,the city nestling round the shining lake1 ,and near the park and palace1 her sweet home4 ,o noble1 peaceful1 beautiful ,cashmere6 ,well named the garden of eternal spring6 ,but yet1 with home and all its joys so near4 ,she often turned and strained her eager eyes ,to catch one parting glimpse of that sweet spot ,where more than half of her young heart was left4 ,at length their horns1 whose mocking echoes ,rolled from hill to hill1 were answered from below1 ,while from the park a gay procession comes1 ,increasing as it moves1 to welcome her1 ,light of the palace1 the people's idol1 home4 ,the prince's thoughts by day and dreams by night ,meanwhile were filled with sweet ,yasodhara1 ,and this bright vision ever hovering near ,hid from his eyes those grim and ghastly forms1 ,night-loving and light-shunning brood of sin1 ,that ever haunt poor fallen human lives1 ,and from the darkened corners of the soul ,are quick to sting each pleasure with sharp pain1 ,to pour some bitter in life's sweetest cup1 ,and shadow with despair its brightest hopes-- ,made him forget how sorrow fills the world1 ,how strength is used to crush and not to raise1 ,how creeds are bandages to blind men's eyes1 ,lest they should see and walk in duty's path ,that leads to peace on earth and joy in heaven1 ,and even made him for the time forget ,his noble mission to restore and save4 ,he sought her for his bride1 but waited long1 ,for princes cannot wed like common folk-- ,friends called1 a feast prepared1 some bridal gifts1 ,some tears at parting and some solemn vows1 ,rice scattered1 slippers thrown with noisy mirth1 ,and common folk are joined till death shall part4 ,till death shall part6 ,o faithless1 cruel thought6 ,death ne'er shall part souls joined by holy love1 ,who through life's trials1 joys and cares ,have to each other clung1 faithful till death1 ,tender and true in sickness and in health1 ,bearing each other's burdens1 sharing griefs1 ,lightening each care and heightening every joy4 ,such life is but a transient honeymoon1 ,a feeble foretaste of eternal joys4 ,but princes when they love1 though all approve1 ,must wait on councils1 embassies and forms4 ,but how the coach of state lumbers and lags ,with messages of love whose own light wings ,glide through all bars1 outstrip all fleetest things-- ,no bird so light1 no thought so fleet as they4 ,but while the prince chafed at the long delay1 ,the sweet ,yasodhara began to feel ,the bitter pangs of unrequited love4 ,but her young hands1 busy with others' wants1 ,and her young heart1 busy with others' woes1 ,with acts of kindness filled the lagging hours1 ,best of all medicines for aching hearts4 ,yet often she would seek a quiet nook ,deep in the park1 where giant trees cross arms1 ,making high gothic arches1 and a shade ,that noonday's fiercest rays could scarcely pierce1 ,and there alone with her sad heart communed3 ,yes6 ,i have kept it for the giver's sake1 ,but he has quite forgot his love1 his gift1 and me4 ,how bright these jewels seemed warmed by his love1 ,but now how dull1 how icy and how dead6 ,but soon the soft-eyed antelopes and fawns ,and fleet gazelles came near and licked her hands2 ,and birds of every rich and varied plume ,gathered around and filled the air with song2 ,and even timid pheasants brought their broods1 ,for her sweet loving life had here restored ,the peace and harmony of paradise2 ,and as they shared her bounty she was soothed ,by their mute confidence and perfect trust4 ,but though time seems to lag1 yet still it moves1 ,resistless as the ocean's swelling tide1 ,bearing its mighty freight of human lives ,with all their joys and sorrows1 hopes and fears1 ,onward1 forever onward1 to life's goal4 ,at length the embassy is sent1 and now1 ,just as the last faint rays of rosy light ,fade from the topmost ,himalayan peaks1 ,and tired nature sinks to quiet rest1 ,a horseman dashes through the silent streets ,bearing the waiting prince the welcome word ,that one short journey of a single day ,divides him from the sweet ,yasodhara2 ,and light-winged rumor spreads the joyful news1 ,and ere the dawn had danced from mountain-top ,o'er hill and vale and plain to the sweet notes ,of nature's rich and varied orchestra1 ,and dried the pearly tears that night had wept1 ,the prince led forth his train to meet his bride1 ,wondering that ,kantaka1 always so free1 ,so eager and so fleet1 should seem to lag4 ,and in that fragrant garden's cooling shade1 ,where they had parted1 now again they meet1 ,and there we leave them reverently alone1 ,for art can never paint nor words describe ,the peace and rest and rapture of that scene4 ,meanwhile the city rings with busy stir4 ,the streets are swept and sprinkled with perfumes1 ,and when the evening shades had veiled the earth1 ,and heaven's blue vault was set with myriad stars1 ,the promised signal from the watchtower sounds1 ,and myriad lamps shine from each house and tree1 ,and merry children strew their way with flowers1 ,and all come forth to greet ,siddartha's bride1 ,and welcome her1 their second ,maya1 home4 ,and at the palace gate the good old king ,receives her with such loving tenderness1 ,as fondest mother1 sick with hope deferred1 ,waiting and watching for an absent child1 ,at length receives him in her open arms4 #a,sinhahamu was an ancestor1 said to be the grandfather1 of our prince1 whose bow1 like that of ,ulysses1 no one else could bend4 ,see notes #bd and #ce to ,book ,second of ,arnold's ,light of ,asia4 #b;,any one who has read that remarkable work1 ,ben ,bur1 and every one who has not should1 will recognize my obligations to ,general ,wallace4 #c,one may be satisfied with the antiquity of the dance1 practically as we have it1 from lines #ahg-h1 ,book ,,vi4 of the ,odyssey3 ,joyful they see applauding princes gaze ,when stately in the dance they swim the harmonious maze4 #d;,i am aware ,i place ,kapilavasta nearer the ,vale of ,cashmere than most1 but as two such writers as ,beal and ,rhys ,davids differ #cj yojanas1 or #ahj miles in its location1 and as no remains have yet been identified at all corresponding to the grandeur of the ancient city as described by all ,buddhist writers1 ,i felt free to indulge my fancy4 ,perhaps these ruins may yet be found by some chance traveler in some unexplored jungle4 ,,book ,,iii4 ,and now his cup with every blessing filled ,full to the brim1 to overflowing full1 ,what more has life to give or heart to wish8 ,stately in form1 with every princely grace1 ,a very master of all manly arts1 ,his gentle manners making all his friends1 ,his young blood bounding on in healthful flow1 ,his broad domains rich in all earth can yield1 ,guarded by nature and his people's love1 ,and now that deepest of all wants supplied1 ,the want of one to share each inmost thought1 ,whose sympathy can soothe each inmost smart1 ,whose presence1 care and loving touch can make ,the palace or the humblest cottage home1 ,his life seemed rounded1 perfect1 full1 complete4 ,and they were happy as the days glide on1 ,and when at night1 locked in each other's arms1 ,they sink to rest1 heart beating close to heart1 ,their thoughts all innocence and trust and love1 ,it almost seemed as if remorseless ,time ,had backward rolled his tide1 and brought again ,the golden age1 with all its peace and joy1 ,and our first parents1 ere the tempter came1 ,were taking sweet repose in paradise4 ,but as one night they slept1 a troubled dream ,disturbed the prince4 ,he dreamed he saw one come1 ,as young and fair as sweet ,yasodhara1 ,but clad in widow's weeds1 and in her arms ,a lifeless child1 crying3 ,most mighty prince6 ,o bring me back my husband and my child6 ,but he could only say ,alas6 poor soul6 ,and started out of sleep he cried ,alas6 ,which waked the sweet ,yasodhara1 who asked1 ,what ails my love8 ,only a troubled dream1 ,the prince replied1 but still she felt him tremble1 ,and kissed and stroked his troubled brow1 ,and soothed him into quiet sleep again4 ,and then once more he dreamed--a pleasing dream4 ,he dreamed he heard strange music1 soft and sweet2 ,he only caught its burden3 ,peace1 be still6 ,and then he thought he saw far off a light1 ,and there a place where all was peace and rest1 ,and waking sighed to find it all a dream4 ,one day this happy couple1 side by side1 ,rode forth alone1 ,yasodhara unveiled-- ,for why1 said she1 should those whose thoughts are pure ,like guilty things hide from their fellow-men8-- ,rode through the crowded streets1 their only guard ,the people's love1 strongest and best of guards2 ,for many arms would spring to their defense1 ,while some grim tyrant1 at whose stern command ,a million swords would from their scabbards leap1 ,cringes in terror behind bolts and bars1 ,starts at each sound1 and fears some hidden mine ,may into atoms blow his stately towers1 ,or that some hand unseen may strike him down1 ,and thinks that poison lurks in every cup1 ,while thousands are in loathsome dungeons thrust ,or pine in exile for a look or word4 ,and as they pass along from street to street ,a sea of happy faces lines their way1 ,their joyful greetings answered by the prince4 ,no face once seen1 no name once heard1 forgot1 ,while sweet ,yasodhara was wreathed in smiles1 ,the kind expression of her gentle heart1 ,when from a little cottage by the way1 ,the people making room for him to pass1 ,there came an aged man1 so very old ,that time had ceased to register his years2 ,his step was firm1 his eye1 though faded1 mild1 ,and childhood's sweet expression on his face4 ,the prince stopped short before him1 bending low1 ,and gently asked3 ,what would my father have8 ,speak freely--what ,i can1 ,i freely give4 ,most noble prince1 ,i need no charity1 ,for my kind neighbors give me all unasked1 ,and my poor cottage where my fathers dwelt1 ,and where my children and their mother died1 ,is kept as clean as when sweet ,gunga lived2 ,and young and old cheer up my lonely hours1 ,and ask me much of other times and men4 ,for when your father's father was a child1 ,i was a man1 as young and strong as you1 ,and my sweet ,gunga your companion's age4 ,but ,o the mystery of life explain6 ,why are we born to tread this little round1 ,to live1 to love1 to suffer1 sorrow1 die8 ,why do the young like field-flowers bloom to fade8 ,why are the strong like the mown grass cut down8 ,why am ,i left as if by death forgot1 ,left here alone1 a leafless1 fruitless trunk8 ,is death the end1 or what comes after death8 ,often when deepest sleep shuts out the world1 ,the dead still seem to live1 while life fades out2 ,and when ,i sit alone and long for light ,the veil seems lifted1 and ,i seem to see ,a world of life and light and peace and rest1 ,no sickness1 sin or sorrow1 pain or death1 ,no helpless infancy or hopeless age4 ,but we poor ,sudras cannot understand-- ,yet from my earliest memory ,i've heard ,that from this hill one day should burst a light1 ,not for the ,brahmans only1 but for all4 ,and when you were a child ,i saw a sage ,bow down before you1 calling you that light4 ,o noble1 mighty prince6 let your light shine1 ,that men no longer grope in dark despair6 ,he spoke1 and sank exhausted on the ground4 ,they gently raised him1 but his life was fled4 ,the prince gave one a well-filled purse and said3 ,let his pile neither lack for sandal-wood ,or any emblem of a life well spent4 ,and when fit time had passed they bore him thence ,and laid him on that couch where all sleep well1 ,half hid in flowers by loving children brought1 ,a smile still lingering on his still1 cold lips1 ,as if they just had tasted ,gunga's kiss1 ,soon to be kissed by eager whirling flames4 ,just then two stately ,brahmans proudly passed-- ,passed on the other side1 gathering their robes ,to shun pollution from the common touch1 ,and passing said3 ,the prince with ,sudras talks ,as friend to friend--but wisdom comes with years4 ,silent and thoughtful then they homeward turned1 ,the prince deep musing on the old man's words2 ',the veil is lifted1 and ,i seem to see ,a world of life and light and peace and rest4' ,o if that veil would only lift for me ,the mystery of life would be explained4 ,as they passed on through unfrequented streets1 ,seeking to shun the busy1 thoughtless throng1 ,those other words like duty's bugle-call ,still ringing in his ears3 ,let your light shine1 ,that men no longer grope in dark despair-- ,the old sad thoughts1 long checked by passing joys1 ,rolling and surging1 swept his troubled soul-- ,as pent-up waters1 having burst their dams1 ,sweep down the valleys and o'erwhelm the plains4 ,just then an aged1 angry voice cried out3 ,o help6 they've stolen my jewels and my gold6 ,and from a wretched hovel by the way ,an old man came1 hated and shunned by all1 ,whose life was spent in hoarding unused gold1 ,grinding the poor1 devouring widows' homes2 ,ill fed1 ill clad1 from eagerness to save1 ,his sunken eyes glittering with rage and greed4 ,and when the prince enquired what troubled him3 ,trouble enough1 he said1 my sons have fled ,because ,i would not waste in dainty fare ,and rich apparel all my life has saved1 ,and taken all my jewels1 all my gold4 ,would that they both lay dead before my face6 ,o precious jewels6 ,o beloved gold6 ,the prince1 helpless to soothe1 hopeless to cure ,this rust and canker of the soul1 passed on1 ,his heart with all-embracing pity filled4 ,o deepening mystery of life6 he cried1 ,why do such souls in human bodies dwell-- ,fitter for ravening wolves or greedy swine6 ,just at death's door cursing his flesh and blood ,for thievish greed inherited from him4 ,is this old age1 or swinish greed grown old8 ,o how unlike that other life just fled6 ,his youth's companions1 wife and children1 dead1 ,yet filled with love for all1 by all beloved1 ,with his whole heart yearning for others' good1 ,with his last breath bewailing others' woes4 ,my best beloved1 said sweet ,yasodhara1 ,her bright eyes filled with sympathetic tears1 ,her whole soul yearning for his inward peace1 ,brood not too much on life's dark mystery-- ,behind the darkest clouds the sun still shines4 ,but1 said the prince1 the many blindly grope ,in sorrow1 fear and ignorance profound1 ,while their proud teachers1 with their heads erect1 ,stalk boldly on1 blind leaders of the blind4 ,come care1 come fasting1 woe and pain for me1 ,and even exile from my own sweet home1 ,all would ,i welcome could ,i give them light4 ,but would you leave your home1 leave me1 leave all1 ,and even leave our unborn pledge of love1 ,the living blending of our inmost souls1 ,that now within me stirs to bid you pause8 ,only for love of you and him and all6 ,o hard necessity6 ,o bitter cup6 ,but would you have me like a coward shun ,the path of duty1 though beset with thorns-- ,thorns that must pierce your tender feet and mine8 ,piercing the question as the sharpest sword2 ,their love1 their joys1 tempted to say him nay4 ,but soon she conquered all and calmly said3 ,my love1 my life1 where duty plainly calls ,i bid you go1 though my poor heart must bleed1 ,and though my eyes weep bitter scalding tears4 ,their hearts too full for words1 too full for tears1 ,gently he pressed her hand and they passed home2 ,and in the presence of this dark unknown ,a deep and all-pervading tenderness ,guides every act and tempers every tone-- ,as in the chamber of the sick and loved ,the step is light1 the voice is soft and low4 ,but soon their days with varied duties filled1 ,their nights with sweet repose1 glide smoothly on1 ,until this shadow seems to lift and fade-- ,as when the sun bursts through the passing storm1 ,gilding the glittering raindrops as they fall1 ,and paints the bow of hope on passing clouds4 ,yet still the old sad thoughts sometimes return1 ,the burden of a duty unperformed1 ,the earnest yearning for a clearer light4 ,the thought that hour by hour and day by day ,the helpless multitudes grope blindly on1 ,clouded his joys and often banished sleep4 ,one day in this sad mood he thought to see ,his people as they are in daily life1 ,and not in holiday attire to meet their prince4 ,in merchant's dress1 his charioteer his clerk1 ,the prince and ,channa passed unknown1 and saw ,the crowded streets alive with busy hum1 ,traders cross-legged1 with their varied wares1 ,the wordy war to cheapen or enhance1 ,one rushing on to clear the streets for wains ,with huge stone wheels1 by slow strong oxen drawn2 ,palanquin-bearers droning out ,hu1 hu1 ho1 ho1 ,while keeping step and praising him they bear2 ,the housewives from the fountain water bring ,in balanced water-jars1 their black-eyed babes ,athwart their hips1 their busy tongues meanwhile ,engaged in gossip of the little things ,that make the daily round of life to them2 ,the skillful weaver at his clumsy loom2 ,the miller at his millstones grinding meal2 ,the armorer1 linking his shirts of mail2 ,the money-changer at his heartless trade2 ,the gaping1 eager crowd gathered to watch ,snake-charmers1 that can make their deadly charge ,dance harmless to the drone of beaded gourds2 ,sword-players1 keeping many knives in air2 ,jugglers1 and those that dance on ropes swung high3 ,and all this varied work and busy idleness ,as in a panorama passing by4 ,while they were passing through these varied scenes1 ,the prince1 whose ears were tuned to life's sad notes1 ,whose eyes were quick to catch its deepest shades1 ,found sorrow1 pain and want1 disease and death1 ,were woven in its very warp and woof4 ,a tiger1 springing from a sheltering bush1 ,had snatched a merchant's comrade from his side2 ,a deadly cobra1 hidden by the path1 ,had stung to death a widow's only son2 ,a breath of jungle-wind a youth's blood chilled1 ,or filled a strong man's bones with piercing pain2 ,a household widowed by a careless step2 ,the quick cross-lightning from an angry cloud ,struck down a bridegroom bringing home his bride-- ,all this and more he heard1 and much he saw3 ,a young man1 stricken in life's early prime1 ,shuffled along1 dragging one palsied limb1 ,while one limp arm hung useless by his side2 ,a dwarf sold little knickknacks by the way1 ,his body scarcely in the human form1 ,to which long arms and legs seemed loosely hung1 ,his noble head thrust forward on his breast1 ,whose pale1 sad face as plainly told as words ,that life had neither health nor hope for him2 ,an old man tottering from a hovel came1 ,frail1 haggard1 palsied1 leaning on a staff1 ,whose eyes1 dull1 glazed and meaningless1 proclaim ,the body lingers when the mind has fled2 ,one seized with sudden hot distemper of the blood1 ,writhing with anguish1 by the wayside sunk4 ,the purple plague-spot on his pallid cheek1 ,cold drops of perspiration on his brow1 ,with wildly rolling eyes and livid lips1 ,gasping for breath and feebly asking help-- ,but ere the prince could aid1 death gave relief4 ,at length they passed the city's outer gate ,and down a stream1 now spread in shining pools1 ,now leaping in cascades1 now dashing on1 ,a line of foam along its rocky bed1 ,bordered by giant trees with densest shade4 ,here1 day by day1 the city bring their dead2 ,here1 day by day1 they build the funeral-piles2 ,here lamentations daily fill the air2 ,here hissing flames each day taste human flesh1 ,and friendly watchmen guard the smoldering pile ,till friends can cull the relics from the dust4 ,and here1 just finished1 rose a noble pile ,by stately ,brahmans for a ,brahman built ,of fragrant woods1 and drenched with fragrant oils1 ,loading the air with every sweet perfume ,that ,india's forests or her fields can yield2 ,above1 a couch of sacred cusa-grass1 ,on which no dreams disturb the sleeper's rest4 ,and now the sound of music reaches them1 ,far off at first1 solemn and sad and slow1 ,rising and swelling as it nearer comes1 ,until a long procession comes in view4 ,four ,brahmans first1 bearing in bowls the fire ,no more to burn on one deserted hearth1 ,then stately ,brahmans on their shoulders bore ,a noble brother of their sacred caste1 ,in manhood's bloom and early prime cut down4 ,then ,brahman youth1 bearing a little child ,half hid in flowers1 and as in seeming sleep4 ,then other ,brahmans in a litter bore ,one young and fair1 in early womanhood1 ,her youthful beauty joined with matron grace1 ,in bridal dress adorned with costly gems-- ,the very face the prince had dreaming seen1 ,the very child she carried in her arms4 ,then many more1 uncovered1 four by four1 ,the aged first1 then those in manhood's prime1 ,and then the young with many acolytes ,chanting in unison their sacred hymns1 ,accompanied by many instruments1 ,both wind and string1 in solemn symphony2 ,and at respectful distance other castes1 ,afraid to touch a ,brahman's sacred robes ,or even mingle with his grief their tears4 ,and when they reached the fragrant funeral-pile1 ,weeping they placed their dead on their last couch1 ,the child within its father's nerveless arms2 ,and when all funeral rites had been performed1 ,the widow circled thrice the funeral-pile1 ,distributing her gifts with lavish hand1 ,bidding her friends a long and last farewell-- ,then stopped1 and raised her tearless eyes and said3 ,farewell1 a long farewell1 to life and friends6 ,farewell6 ,o earth and air and sacred sun6 ,nanda1 my lord1 ,udra1 my child1 ,i come6 ,then pale but calm1 with fixed ecstatic gaze ,and steady steps she mounts the funeral-pile1 ,crying1 ,they beckon me6 ,i come6 ,i come6 ,then sunk as if the silver cord were loosed ,as still as death upon her silent dead4 ,instant the flames from the four corners leaped1 ,mingling in one devouring1 eager blaze4 ,no groan1 no cry1 only the crackling flames1 ,the wailing notes of many instruments1 ,and solemn chant by many voices raised1 ,perfect is she who follows thus her lord4 ,o dark and cruel creeds1 ,o perfect love1 ,fitter for heaven than this sad world of ours6 ,more than enough the prince had seen and heard4 ,bowed by the grievous burdens others bore1 ,feeling for others' sorrows as his own1 ,tears of divinest pity filled his eyes ,and deep and all-embracing love his heart4 ,home he returned1 no more to find its rest4 ,but soon a light shines in that troubled house-- ,a son is born to sweet ,yasodhara4 ,their eyes saw not1 neither do ours1 that sun ,whose light is wisdom and whose heat is love1 ,sending through nature waves of living light1 ,giving its life to everything that lives1 ,which through the innocence of little ones ,as through wide-open windows sends his rays ,to light the darkest1 warm the coldest heart4 ,sweet infancy6 life's solace and its rest1 ,driving away the loneliness of age1 ,wreathing in smiles the wrinkled brow of care1 ,nectar to joyful1 balm to troubled hearts1 ,joyful once more is ,king ,suddhodana2 ,a placid joy beams from that mother's face2 ,joy lit the palace1 flew from street to street1 ,and from the city over hill and plain2 ,joy filled the prince's agitated soul-- ,he felt a power1 from whence he could not tell1 ,drawing away1 he knew not where it led4 ,he knew the dreaded separation near1 ,yet half its pain and bitterness was passed4 ,he need not leave his loved ones comfortless-- ,his loving people still would have their prince1 ,the king in young ,rahula have his son1 ,and sweet ,yasodhara1 his very life1 ,would have that nearest1 dearest comforter ,to soothe her cares and drive away her tears4#a ,but now strange dreams disturb the good old king-- ,dreams starting him in terror from his sleep1 ,yet seeming prophecies of coming good4 ,he dreamed he saw the flag his fathers loved ,in tatters torn and trailing in the dust1 ,but in its place another glorious flag1 ,whose silken folds seemed woven thick with gems ,that as it waved glittered with dazzling light4 ,he dreamed he saw proud embassies from far ,bringing the crowns and scepters of the earth1 ,bowing in reverence before the prince1 ,humbly entreating him to be their king-- ,from whom he fled in haste as if in fear4 ,then dreamed he saw his son in tattered robes ,begging from ,sudras for his daily bread4 ,again1 he dreamed he saw the ancient tower ,where he in worship had so often knelt1 ,rising and shining clothed with living light1 ,and on its top the prince1 beaming with love1 ,scattering with lavish hand the richest gems ,on eager crowds that caught them as they fell4 ,but soon it vanished1 and he saw a hill1 ,rugged and bleak1 cliff crowned and bald and bare1 ,and there he saw the prince1 kneeling alone1 ,wasted with cruel fastings till his bones ,clave to his skin1 and in his sunken eyes ,with fitful flicker gleamed the lamp of life ,until they closed1 and on the ground he sank1 ,as if in death or in a deadly swoon2 ,and then the hill sank to a spreading plain1 ,stretching beyond the keenest vision's ken1 ,covered with multitudes as numberless ,as ocean's sands or autumn's forest leaves2 ,and mounted on a giant elephant1 ,white as the snows on ,himalaya's peaks1 ,the prince rode through their midst in royal state1 ,and as he moved along he heard a shout1 ,rising and swelling1 like the mighty voice ,of many waters breaking on the shore3 ,all hail6 great ,chakravartin1 king of kings6 ,hail6 king of righteousness6 ,hail6 prince of peace6 ,strange dreams6 ,where is their birthplace--where their home8 ,lighter than foam upon the crested wave1 ,fleeter than shadows of the passing cloud1 ,they are of such fantastic substance made ,that quick as thought they change their fickle forms-- ,now grander than the waking vision views1 ,now stranger than the wildest fancy feigns1 ,and now so grim and terrible they start ,the hardened conscience from its guilty sleep4 ,in troops they come1 trooping they fly away1 ,waved into being by the magic wand ,of some deep purpose of the inmost soul1 ,some hidden joy or sorrow1 guilt or fear-- ,or better1 as the wise of old believed1 ,called into being by some heavenly guest ,to soothe1 to warn1 instruct or terrify4 ,strange dreams by night and troubled thoughts by day ,disturb the prince and banish quiet sleep4 ,he dreamed that darkness1 visible and dense1 ,shrouded the heavens and brooded o'er the earth1 ,whose rayless1 formless1 vacant nothingness ,curdled his blood and made his eyeballs ache2 ,when suddenly from out this empty void ,a cloud1 shining with golden light1 was borne ,by gentle winds1 loaded with sweet perfumes1 ,sweeter than spring-time on this earth can yield4 ,the cloud passed just above him1 and he saw ,myriads of cherub faces looking down1 ,sweet as ,rahula1 freed from earthly stain2 ,such faces mortal brush could never paint-- ,enraptured ,raphael ne'er such faces saw4 ,but still the outer darkness hovered near1 ,and ever and anon a bony hand ,darts out to snatch some cherub face away4 ,then dreamed he saw a broad and pleasant land1 ,with cities1 gardens1 groves and fruitful fields1 ,where bee-fed flowers half hide the ripening fruits4 ,and spicy breezes stir the trembling leaves1 ,and many birds make sweetest melody1 ,but bordered by a valley black as night1 ,that ever vomits from its sunless depths ,great whirling clouds of suffocating smoke1 ,blacker than hide the burning ,aetna's head1 ,blacker than over ,lake ,avernus hung2 ,no bird could fly above its fatal fumes2 ,eagles1 on tireless pinions upward borne1 ,in widening circles rising toward the sun1 ,venturing too near its exhalations1 fall1 ,as sinks the plummet in the silent sea2 ,and lions1 springing on their antlered prey1 ,drop still and lifeless on its deadly brink2 ,only the jackal's dismal howl is heard ,to break its stillness and eternal sleep4 ,he was borne forward to the very verge ,of this dark valley1 by some power unseen4 ,a wind that pierced his marrow parts the clouds1 ,and far within1 below he saw a sight ,that stood his hair on end1 beaded his brow ,with icy drops1 and made his blood run cold2 ,he saw a lofty throne1 blacker than jet1 ,but shining with a strange and baleful light ,that made him shade his blinded1 dazzled eyes1 ,and seated on that throne a ghastly form ,that seemed a giant human skeleton1 ,but yet in motion terrible and quick ,as lightning1 killing ere the thunders roll2 ,his fleshless skull had on a seeming crown1 ,while from his sunken sockets glared his eyes ,like coals of fire or eyes of basilisk1 ,and from his bony hand each instant flew ,unerring darts that flew to pierce and kill1 ,piercing the infant in its mother's arms1 ,the mother when she feels her first-born's breath1 ,piercing the father in his happy home1 ,piercing the lover tasting love's first kiss1 ,piercing the vanquished when his banners fall1 ,piercing the victor 'mid triumphant shouts1 ,piercing the mighty monarch on his throne2 ,while from a towering cypress growing near ,every disease to which frail flesh is heir ,like ravening vultures watch each arrow's flight1 ,and quick as thought glide off on raven's wings ,to bring the wounded1 writhing victim in-- ,as well-trained hunters mark their master's aim1 ,then fly to bring the wounded quarry home4 ,meanwhile a stifling stench rose from below-- ,as from a battle-field where nations met ,and fiery ranks of living valor fought1 ,now food for vultures1 moldering cold and low-- ,and bleaching bones were scattered everywhere4 ,startled he wakes and rises from his couch4 ,the lamps shine down with soft and mellow light4 ,the fair ,yasodhara still lay in sleep1 ,but not in quiet sleep4 ,her bosom heaved ,as if a sigh were seeking to escape2 ,her brows were knit as if in pain or fear1 ,and tears were stealing from her close-shut lids4 ,but sweet ,rahula slept1 and sleeping smiled ,as if he too those cherub faces saw4 ,in haste alone he noiselessly stole forth ,to wander in the park1 and cool his brow ,and calm his burdened1 agitated soul4 ,the night had reached that hour preceding dawn ,when nature seems in solemn silence hushed1 ,awed by the glories of the coming day4 ,the moon hung low above the western plains2 ,unnumbered stars with double brightness shine1 ,and half-transparent mists the landscape veil1 ,through which the mountains in dim grandeur rise4 ,silent1 alone he crossed the maidan wide ,where first he saw the sweet ,yasodhara1 ,where joyful multitudes so often met1 ,now still as that dark valley of his dream4 ,he passed the lake1 mirror of heaven's high vault1 ,whose ruffled waters ripple on the shore1 ,stirred by cool breezes from the snow-capped peaks2 ,and heedless of his way passed on and up1 ,through giant cedars and the lofty pines1 ,over a leafy carpet1 velvet soft1 ,while solemn voices from their branches sound1 ,strangely in unison with his sad soul2 ,and on and up until he reached a spot ,above the trees1 above the mist-wrapped world1 ,where opening chasms yawned on every side4 ,perforce he stopped2 and1 roused from revery1 ,gazed on the dark and silent world below4 ,the moon had sunk from sight1 the stars grew dim1 ,and densest darkness veiled the sleeping world1 ,when suddenly bright beams of rosy light ,shot up the east2 the highest mountain-top ,glittered as if both land and sea had joined ,their richest jewels and most costly gems ,to make its crown2 from mountain-peak to peak ,the brightness spread1 and darkness slunk away1 ,until between two giant mountain-tops ,glittered a wedge of gold2 the hills were tinged1 ,and soon the sun flooded the world with light ,as when the darkness heard that first command3 ,let there be light6 and light from chaos shone4 ,raptured he gazed upon the glorious scene4 ,and can it be1 he said1 with floods of light ,filling the blue and boundless vault above1 ,bathing in brightness mountain1 hill and plain1 ,sending its rays to ocean's hidden depths1 ,with light for bird and beast and creeping thing1 ,light for all eyes1 oceans of light to spare1 ,that man alone from outer darkness comes1 ,gropes blindly on his brief and restless round1 ,and then in starless darkness disappears8 ,there must be light1 fountains of living light1 ,for which my thirsty spirit pining pants ,as pants the hunted hart for water-brooks-- ,another sun1 lighting a better world1 ,where weary souls may find a welcome rest4 ,gladly ,i'd climb yon giddy mountain-heights1 ,or gladly take the morning's wings and fly ,to earth's remotest bounds1 if light were there1 ,welcome to me the hermit's lonely cell1 ,and welcome dangers1 labors1 fastings1 pains-- ,all would be welcome could ,i bring the light ,to myriads now in hopeless darkness sunk4 ,farewell to kingdom1 comforts1 home and friends6 ,all will ,i leave to seek this glorious light4 ,the die is cast1 the victory is gained4 ,though love of people1 parent1 wife and child1 ,half selfish1 half divine1 may bid him pause1 ,a higher love1 unselfish1 all divine1 ,for them and every soul1 bade him go forth ,to seek for light1 and seek till light be found4 ,home he returned1 now strong to say farewell4 ,meanwhile the sweet ,yasodhara still slept1 ,and dreamed she saw ,siddartha's empty couch4 ,she dreamed she saw him flying far away1 ,and when she called to him he answered not1 ,but only stopped his ears and faster flew ,until he seemed a speck1 and then was gone4 ,and then she heard a mighty voice cry out3 ,the time has come--his glory shall appear6 ,waked by that voice1 she found his empty couch1 ,siddartha gone1 and with him every joy2 ,but not all joy1 for there ,rahula lay1 ,with great wide-open eyes and cherub smile1 ,watching the lights that flickered on the wall4 ,caught in her arms she pressed him to her heart ,to still its tumult and to ease its pain4 ,but now that step she knew so well is heard4 ,siddartha comes1 filled with unselfish love ,until his face beamed with celestial light ,that like a holy halo crowned his head4 ,gently he spoke3 ,my dearest and my best1 ,the time has come--the time when we must part4 ,let not your heart be troubled--it is best4 ,this said1 a tender kiss spoke to her heart1 ,in love's own language1 of unchanging love4 ,when sweet ,rahula stretched his little arms1 ,and cooing asked his share of tenderness1 ,siddartha from her bosom took their boy1 ,and though sore troubled1 both together smiled1 ,and with him playing1 that sweet jargon spoke1 ,which1 though no lexicon contains its words1 ,seems like the speech of angels1 poorly learned1 ,for every sound and syllable and word ,was filled brimful of pure and perfect love4 ,at length grown calm1 they tenderly communed ,of all their past1 of all their hopes and fears2 ,and when the time of separation came1 ,his holy resolution gave her strength ,to give the last embrace and say farewell4 ,and forth he rode1#b mounted on ,kantaka1 ,a prince1 a loving father1 husband1 son1 ,to exile driven by all-embracing love4 ,what wonder1 as the ancient writings say1 ,that nature to her inmost depths was stirred1 ,and as he passed the birds burst forth in song1 ,fearless of hawk or kite that hovered near8 ,what wonder that the beasts of field and wood1 ,and all the jungle's savage denizens1 ,gathered in groups and gamboled fearlessly1 ,leopards with kids and wolves with skipping lambs8 ,for he who rode alone1 bowed down and sad1 ,taught millions1 crores#c of millions1 yet unborn ,to treat with kindness every living thing4 ,what wonder that the deepest hells were stirred8 ,what wonder that the heavens were filled with joy8 ,for he1 bowed down with sorrow1 going forth1 ,shall come with joy and teach all men the way ,from earth's sad turmoil to ,nirvana's rest4 #a;,in the ,light of ,asia the prince is made to leave his young wife before the birth of their son1 saying3 ,whom1 if ,i wait to bless1 my heart will fail1--a piece of cowardice hardly consistent with my conception of that brave and self-denying character4 #b;,in the ,light of ,asia1 the prince1 after leaving his young wife1 is made to pass through a somewhat extensive harem en deshabille1 which is described with voluptuous minuteness4 ,although there are some things in later ,buddhistic literature that seem to justify it1 ,i can but regard the introduction of an institution so entirely alien to every age1 form and degree of ,aryan civilization and so inconsistent with the tender conjugal love which was the strongest tie to his beloved home1 as a serious blot on that beautiful poem and as inconsistent with its whole theory1 for no prophet ever came from a harem4 #c;,a crore is ten millions4 ,,book ,,iv4 ,far from his kingdom1 far from home and friends1 ,the prince has gone1 his flowing locks close shorn1 ,his rings and soft apparel laid aside1 ,all signs of rank and royalty cast off4 ,clothed in a yellow robe1 simple and coarse1 ,through unknown streets from door to door he passed1 ,holding an alms-bowl forth for willing gifts4 ,but when1 won by his stateliness and grace1 ,they brought their choicest stores1 he gently said3 ,not so1 my friends1 keep such for those who need-- ,the sick and old2 give me but common food4 ,and when sufficient for the day was given1 ,he took a way leading without the walls1 ,and through rich gardens1 through the fruitful fields1 ,under dark mangoes and the jujube trees1 ,eastward toward ,sailagiri1 hill of gems2 ,and through an ancient grove1 skirting its base1 ,where1 soothed by every soft and tranquil sound1 ,full many saints were wearing out their days ,in meditation1 earnest1 deep1 intent1 ,seeking to solve the mystery of life1 ,seeking1 by leaving all its joys and cares1 ,seeking1 by doubling all its woes and pains1 ,to gain an entrance to eternal rest2 ,and winding up its rugged sides1 to where ,a shoulder of the mountain1 sloping west1 ,o'erhangs a cave with wild figs canopied4 ,this mountain cave was now his dwelling-place1 ,a stone his pillow1 and the earth his bed1 ,his earthen alms-bowl holding all his stores ,except the crystal waters1 murmuring near4 ,a lonely path1 rugged1 and rough1 and steep2 ,a lonely cave1 its stillness only stirred ,by eagle's scream1 or raven's solemn croak1 ,or by the distant city's softened sounds1 ,save when a sudden tempest breaks above1 ,and rolling thunders shake the trembling hills-- ,a path since worn by countless pilgrims' feet1 ,coming from far to view this hallowed spot1 ,and bow in worship on his hard1 cold bed1 ,and press his pillow with their loving lips4 ,for here1 for six long years1 the world-renowned1 ,the tender lover of all living things1 ,fasted and watched and wrestled for the light1 ,less for himself than for a weeping world4 ,and here arrived1 he ate his simple meal1 ,and then in silent meditation sat ,the livelong day1 heedless of noon's fierce heat ,that sent to covert birds and panting beasts1 ,and from the parched and glowing plain sent up1 ,as from a furnace1 gusts of scorching air1 ,through which the city's walls1 the rocks and trees4 ,all seemed to tremble1 quiver1 glow and shake1 ,as if a palsy shook the trembling world2 ,heedless of loosened rocks that crashed so near1 ,and dashed and thundered to the depths below1 ,and of the shepherds1 who with wondering awe ,came near to gaze upon his noble form ,and gentle1 loving but majestic face1 ,and thought some god had deigned to visit men4 ,and thus he sat1 still as the rock his seat1 ,seeking to pierce the void from whence man came1 ,to look beyond the veil that shuts him in1 ,to find a clue to life's dark labyrinth1 ,seeking to know why man is cast adrift ,upon the bosom of a troubled sea1 ,his boat so frail1 his helm and compass lost1 ,to sink at last in dull oblivion's depths2 ,when nature seems so perfect and complete1 ,grand as a whole1 and perfect all its parts1 ,which from the greatest to the least proclaims ,that ,wisdom1 ,watchfulness1 and ,power and ,love ,which built the mountains1 spread the earth abroad1 ,and fixed the bounds that ocean cannot pass2 ,which taught the seasons their accustomed rounds1 ,lest seed-time and the happy harvests fail2 ,which guides the stars in their celestial course1 ,and guides the pigeon's swift unerring flight ,o'er mountain1 sea and plain and desert waste1 ,straight as an arrow to her distant home2 ,teaching the ant for winter to prepare2 ,clothing the lily in its princely pride2 ,watching the tiny sparrow when it falls2 ,nothing too great for ,his almighty arm2 ,nothing too small for ,his all-seeing eye2 ,nothing too mean for ,his paternal care4 ,and thus he mused1 seeking to find a light ,to guide men on their dark and weary way1 ,and through the valley and the shades of death1 ,until the glories of the setting sun ,called him to vespers and his evening meal4 ,then roused from revery1 ablutions made1 ,eight times he bowed1 just as the setting sun1 ,a fiery red1 sunk slowly out of sight ,beyond the western plains1 gilded and tinged1 ,misty and vast1 beneath a brilliant sky1 ,shaded from brightest gold to softest rose4 ,then1 after supper1 back and forth he paced ,upon the narrow rock before his cave1 ,seeking to ease his numbed and stiffened limbs2 ,while evening's sombre shadows slowly crept ,from plain to hill and highest mountain-top1 ,and solemn silence settled on the world1 ,save for the night-jar's cry and owl's complaint2 ,while many lights from out the city gleam1 ,and thickening stars spangle the azure vault1 ,until the moon1 with soft and silvery light1 ,half veils and half reveals the sleeping world4 ,and then he slept--for weary souls must sleep1 ,as well as bodies worn with daily toil2 ,and as he lay stretched on his hard1 cold bed1 ,his youthful blood again bounds freely on1 ,repairing wastes the weary day had made4 ,and then he dreamed4 ,sometimes he dreamed of home1 ,of young ,rahula1 reaching out his arms1 ,of sweet ,yasodhara with loving words ,cheering him on1 as love alone can cheer4 ,sometimes he dreamed he saw that living light ,for which his earnest soul so long had yearned-- ,but over hills and mountains far away4 ,and then he seemed with labored steps to climb ,down giddy cliffs1 far harder than ascent1 ,while yawning chasms threatened to devour1 ,and beetling cliffs precluded all retreat2 ,but still the way seemed opening step by step1 ,until he reached the valley's lowest depths1 ,where twilight reigned1 and grim and ghastly forms1 ,with flaming swords1 obstruct his onward way1 ,but his all-conquering love still urged him on1 ,when with wild shrieks they vanished in thin air2 ,and then he climbed1 clinging to jutting cliffs1 ,and stunted trees that from each crevice grew1 ,till weary1 breathless1 he regained the heights1 ,to see that light nearer1 but still so far4 ,and thus he slept1 and thus sometimes he dreamed1 ,but rose before the dawn had tinged the east1 ,before the jungle-cock had made his call1 ,when thoughts are clearest1 and the world is still1 ,refreshed and strengthened for his daily search ,into the seeds of sorrow1 germs of pain1 ,after a light to scatter doubts and fears4 ,but when the coming day silvered the east1 ,and warmed that silver into softest gold1 ,and faintest rose-tints tinged the passing clouds1 ,he1 as the ,vedas taught1 each morning bathed ,in the clear stream that murmured near his cave1 ,then bowed in reverence to the rising sun1 ,as from behind the glittering mountain-peaks ,it burst in glory on the waking world4 ,then bowl and staff in hand1 he took his way ,along his mountain-path and through the grove1 ,and through the gardens1 through the fruitful fields1 ,down to the city1 for his daily alms2 ,while children his expected coming watch1 ,and running cry3 ,the gracious ,rishi comes4 ,all gladly gave1 and soon his bowl was filled1 ,for he repaid their gifts with gracious thanks1 ,and his unbounded love1 clearer than words1 ,spoke to their hearts as he passed gently on4 ,even stolid plowmen after him would look1 ,wondering that one so stately and so grand ,should even for them have kind and gracious words1 ,sometimes while passing through the sacred grove1 ,he paused beneath an aged banyan-tree1 ,whose spreading branches drooping down took root ,to grow again in other giant trunks1 ,an ever-widening1 ever-deepening shade1 ,where five1 like him in manhood's early prime1 ,each bound to life by all its tender ties1 ,high born and rich1 had left their happy homes1 ,their only food chance-gathered day by day1 ,their only roof this spreading banyan-tree2 ,and there long time they earnestly communed1 ,seeking to aid each other in the search ,for higher life and for a clearer light4 ,and here1 under a sacred peepul's shade1 ,two ,brahmans1 famed for sanctity1 had dwelt ,for many years1 all cares of life cast off1 ,who by long fastings sought to make the veil ,of flesh translucent to the inner eye2 ,eyes fixed intently on the nose's tip1 ,to lose all consciousness of outward things2 ,by breath suppressed to still the outer pulse1 ,so that the soul might wake to conscious life1 ,and on unfolded wings unchecked might rise4 ,and in the purest auras freely soar1 ,above cross-currents that engender clouds ,where thunders roll1 and quick cross-lightnings play1 ,to view the world of causes and of life1 ,and bathe in light that knows no night1 no change4 ,with eager questionings he sought to learn1 ,while they with gentle answers gladly taught ,all that their self-denying search had learned4 ,and thus he passed his days and months and years1 ,in constant1 patient1 earnest search for light1 ,with longer fastings and more earnest search1 ,while day by day his body frailer grew1 ,until his soul1 loosed from its earthly bonds1 ,sometimes escaped its narrow prison-house1 ,and like the lark to heaven's gate it soared1 ,to view the glories of the coming dawn4 ,but as he rose1 the sad and sorrowing world1 ,for which his soul with tender love had yearned1 ,seemed deeper in the nether darkness sunk1 ,beyond his reach1 beyond his power to save1 ,when sadly to his prison-house he turned1 ,wishing no light that did not shine for all4 ,six years had passed1 six long and weary years1 ,since first he left the world to seek for light4 ,knowledge he found1 knowledge that soared aloft ,to giddy heights1 and sounded hidden depths1 ,secrets of knowledge that the ,brahmans taught ,the favored few1 but far beyond the reach ,of those who toil and weep and cry for help2 ,a light that gilds the highest mountain-tops1 ,but leaves the fields and valleys dark and cold2 ,but not that living light for which he yearned1 ,to light life's humble walks and common ways1 ,and send its warmth to every heart and home1 ,as spring-time sends a warm and genial glow ,to every hill and valley1 grove and field1 ,clothing in softest verdure common grass1 ,as well as sandal-trees and lofty palms4 ,one night1 when hope seemed yielding to despair1 ,sleepless he lay upon the earth--his bed-- ,when suddenly a white and dazzling light ,shone through the cave1 and all was dark again4 ,startled he rose1 then prostrate in the dust1 ,his inmost soul breathed forth an earnest prayer#a ,that he who made the light would make it shine ,clearer and clearer to that perfect day1 ,when innocence1 and peace1 and righteousness ,might fill the earth1 and ignorance and fear1 ,and cruelty and crime1 might fly away1 ,as birds of night and savage prowling beasts ,fly from the glories of the rising sun4 ,long time he lay1 wrestling in earnest prayer1 ,when from the eastern wall1 one clothed in light1 ,beaming with love1 and halo-crowned1 appeared1 ,and gently said3 ,siddartha1 rise6 go forth6 ,waste not your days in fasts1 your nights in tears6 ,give what you have2 do what you find to do2 ,with gentle admonitions check the strong2 ,with loving counsels aid and guide the weak1 ,and light will come1 the day will surely dawn4 ,this said1 the light grew dim1 the form was gone1 ,but hope revived1 his heart was strong again4 ,joyful he rose1 and when the rising sun ,had filled the earth's dark places full of light1 ,with all his worldly wealth1 his staff and bowl1 ,obedient to that voice he left his cave2 ,when from a shepherd's cottage near his way1 ,whence he had often heard the busy hum ,of industry1 and childhood's merry laugh1 ,there came the angry1 stern command of one ,clothed in a little brief authority1 ,mingled with earnest pleadings1 and the wail ,of women's voices1 and above them all ,the plaintive treble of a little child4 ,thither he turned1 and when he reached the spot1 ,the cause of all this sorrow was revealed3 ,one from the king had seized their little all1 ,their goats and sheep1 and e'en the child's pet lamb4 ,but when they saw him they had often watched ,with reverent awe1 as if come down from heaven1 ,prostrate they fell1 and kissed his garment's hem1 ,while he so insolent1 now stood abashed1 ,and1 self accused1 he thus excused himself3 ,the ,brahmans make this day a sacrifice1 ,and they demand unblemished goats and lambs4 ,i but obey the king's express command ,to bring them to the temple ere high noon4 ,but ,buddha stooped and raised the little child1 ,who nestled in his arms in perfect trust1 ,and gently said3 ,rise up1 my friends1 weep not6 ,the king must be obeyed--but kings have hearts4 ,i go along to be your advocate4 ,the king may spare what zealous priest would kill1 ,thinking the gods above delight in blood4 ,but when the officers would drive the flock ,with staves and slings and loud and angry cries1 ,they only scattered them among the rocks1 ,and ,buddha bade the shepherd call his own1 ,as love can lead where force in vain would drive4 ,he called2 they knew his voice and followed him1 ,dumb innocents1 down to the slaughter led1 ,while ,buddha kissed the child1 and followed them1 ,with those so late made insolent by power1 ,now dumb as if led out to punishment4 ,meanwhile the temple-gates wide open stood1 ,and when the king1 in royal purple robed1 ,and decked with gems1 attended by his court1 ,to clash of cymbals1 sound of shell and drum1 ,through streets swept clean and sprinkled with perfumes1 ,adorned with flags1 and filled with shouting crowds1 ,drew near the sacred shrine1 a greater came1 ,through unswept ways1 where dwelt the toiling poor1 ,huddled in wretched huts1 breathing foul air1 ,living in fetid filth and poverty-- ,no childhood's joys1 youth prematurely old1 ,manhood a painful struggle but to live1 ,and age a weary shifting of the scene2 ,while all the people drew aside to gaze ,upon his gentle but majestic face1 ,beaming with tender1 all-embracing love4 ,and when the king and royal train dismount1 ',mid prostrate people and the stately priests1 ,on fragrant flowers that carpeted his way1 ,and mount the lofty steps to reach the shrine1 ,siddartha came1 upon the other side1 ',mid stalls for victims1 sheds for sacred wood1 ,and rude attendants on the pompous rites1 ,who seized a goat1 the patriarch of the flock1 ,and bound him firm with sacred munja grass1 ,and bore aloft1 while ,buddha followed where ,a priest before the blazing altar stood ,with glittering knife1 and others fed the fires1 ,while clouds of incense from the altar rose1 ,sweeter than ,araby the blest can yield1 ,and white-robed ,brahmans chant their sacred hymns4 ,and there before that ancient shrine they met1 ,the king1 the priests1 the hermit from the hill1 ,when one1 an aged ,brahman1 raised his hands1 ,and praying1 lifted up his voice and cried3 ,o hear6 great ,indra1 from thy lofty throne ,on ,meru's holy mountain1 high in heaven4 ,let every good the king has ever done ,with this sweet incense mingled rise to thee2 ,and every secret1 every open sin ,be laid upon this goat1 to sink from sight1 ,drunk by the earth with his hot spouting blood1 ,or on this altar with his flesh be burned4 ,and all the ,brahman choir responsive cried3 ,long live the king6 now let the victim die6 ,but ,buddha said3 ,let him not strike1 ,o king6 ,for how can ,god1 being good1 delight in blood8 ,and how can blood wash out the stains of sin1 ,and change the fixed eternal law of life ,that good from good1 evil from evil flows8 ,this said1 he stooped and loosed the panting goat1 ,none staying him1 so great his presence was4 ,and then with loving tenderness he taught ,how sin works out its own sure punishment2 ,how like corroding rust and eating moth ,it wastes the very substance of the soul2 ,like poisoned blood it surely1 drop by drop1 ,pollutes the very fountain of the life2 ,like deadly drug it changes into stone ,the living fibres of a loving heart2 ,like fell disease1 it breeds within the veins ,the living agents of a living death2 ,and as in gardens overgrown with weeds1 ,nothing but patient labor1 day by day1 ,uprooting cherished evils one by one1 ,watering its soil with penitential tears1 ,can fit the soul to grow that precious seed1 ,which taking root1 spreads out a grateful shade ,where gentle thoughts like singing birds may lodge1 ,where pure desires like fragrant flowers may bloom1 ,and loving acts like ripened fruits may hang4 ,then1 chiding not1 with earnest words he urged ,humanity to man1 kindness to beasts1 ,pure words1 kind acts1 in all our daily walks4 ,as better than the blood of lambs and goats4 ,better than incense or the chanted hymn1 ,to cleanse the heart and please the powers above1 ,and fill the world with harmony and peace1 ,till pricked in heart1 the priest let fall his knife2 ,the ,brahmans listening1 ceased to chant their hymns2 ,the king drank in his words with eager ears2 ,and from that day no altar dripped with blood1 ,but flowers instead breathed forth their sweet perfumes4 ,and when that troubled day drew near its close1 ,joy filled once more that shepherd's humble home1 ,from door to door his simple story flew1 ,and when the king entered his palace gates1 ,new thoughts were surging in his wakened soul4 ,but though the beasts have lairs1 the birds have nests1 ,buddha had not whereon to lay his head1 ,not even a mountain-cave to call his home2 ,and forth he fared1 heedless about his way-- ,for every way was now alike to him4 ,heedless of food1 his alms-bowl hung unused4 ,while all the people stood aside with awe1 ,and to their children pointed out the man ,who plead the shepherd's cause before the king4 ,at length he passed the city's western gate1 ,and crossed the little plain circling its walls4 ,circled itself by five bold hills that rise1 ,a rugged1 rampart and an outer wall4 ,two outer gates this mountain rampart had1 ,the one a narrow valley opening west ,toward ,gaya1 through the red ,barabar hills4 ,through which the rapid ,phalgu swiftly glides1 ,down from the ,vindhya mountains far away1 ,then gently winds around this fruitful plain1 ,its surface green with floating lotus leaves4 ,and bright with lotus blossoms1 blue and white1 ,o'erhung with drooping trees and trailing vines1 ,till through the eastern gate it hastens on1 ,to lose itself in ,gunga's sacred stream4 ,toward ,gaya now ,siddartha bent his steps1 ,distant the journey of a single day ,as men marked distance in those ancient times1 ,no longer heeded in this headlong age1 ,when we count moments by the miles we pass2 ,and one may see the sun sink out of sight4 ,behind great banks of gray and wintry clouds1 ,while feathery snowflakes fill the frosty air1 ,and after quiet sleep may wake next day ,to see it bathe green fields with floods of light1 ,and dry the sparkling dew from opening flowers1 ,and hear the joyful burst of vernal song1 ,and breathe the balmy air of opening spring4 ,and as he went1 weary and faint and sad1 ,the valley opening showed a pleasant grove1 ,where many trees mingled their grateful shade1 ,and many blossoms blended sweet perfumes2 ,and there1 under a drooping vakul-tree1 ,a bower of roses and sweet jasmine vines1 ,within a couch1 without a banquet spread1 ,while near a fountain with its falling spray ,ruffled the surface of a shining pool1 ,whose liquid cadence mingled with the songs ,of many birds concealed among the trees4 ,and there three seeming sister graces were1#b ,fair as young ,venus rising from the sea1 ,the one in seeming childlike innocence ,bathed in the pool1 while her low liquid laugh ,rung sweet and clear2 and one her vina tuned1 ,and as she played1 the other lightly danced1 ,clapping her hands1 tinkling her silver bells1 ,whose gauzy silken garments seemed to show ,rather than hide her slender1 graceful limbs4 ,and she who played the vina sweetly sang2 ,come to our bower and take your rest-- ,life is a weary road at best4 ,eat1 for your board is richly spread2 ,drink1 for your wine is sparkling red2 ,rest1 for the weary day is past2 ,sleep1 for the shadows gather fast4 ,tune not your vina-strings too high1 ,strained they will break and the music die4 ,come to our bower and take your rest-- ,life is a weary road at best4 ,but ,buddha1 full of pity1 passing said3 ,alas1 poor soul6 flitting a little while ,like painted butterflies before the lamp ,that soon will burn your wings2 like silly doves1 ,calling the cruel kite to seize and kill2 ,displaying lights to be the robber's guide2 ,enticing men to wrong1 who soon despise4 ,ah6 poor1 perverted1 cold and cruel world6 ,delights of love become the lures of lust1 ,the joys of heaven changed into fires of hell4 #a;,i am aware there are many who think that ,buddha did not believe in prayer1 which ,arnold puts into his own mouth in these words1 which sound like the clanking of chains in a prison-vault3 ,pray not6 the darkness will not brighten6 ,ask ,nought from ,silence1 for it cannot speak6 ,buddha did teach that mere prayers without any effort to overcome our evils is of no more use than for a merchant to pray the farther bank of a swollen stream to come to him without seeking any means to cross1 which merely differs in words from the declaration of ,st4 ,james that faith without works is dead2 but if he ever taught that the earnest yearning of a soul for help1 which is the essence of prayer1 is no aid in the struggle for a higher life1 then my whole reading has been at fault1 and the whole ,buddhist worship has been a departure from the teachings of its founder4 #b,mara dispatched three pleasure-girls from the north quarter to come and tempt him4 ,their names were ,tanha1 ,rati and ,ranga4 ,fa ,hian 7,beal71 p4 #abj4 ,,book ,v4 ,now mighty ,mara1 spirit of the air1 ,the prince of darkness1 ruling worlds below1 ,had watched for ,buddha all these weary years1 ,seeking to lead his steady steps astray ,by many wiles his wicked wit devised1 ,lest he at length should find the living light ,and rescue millions from his dark domains4 ,now1 showing him the kingdoms of the world4 ,he offered him the ,chakravartin's crown2 ,now1 opening seas of knowledge1 shoreless1 vast1 ,knowledge of ages past and yet to come1 ,knowledge of nature and the hidden laws ,that guide her changes1 guide the roiling spheres1 ,sakwal on sakwal1#a boundless1 infinite1 ,yet ever moving on in harmony1 ,he thought to puff his spirit up with pride ,till he should quite forget a suffering world1 ,in sin and sorrow groping blindly on4 ,but when he saw that lust of power moved not1 ,and thirst for knowledge turned him not aside ,from earnest search after the living light1 ,from tender love for every living thing1 ,he sent the tempters ,doubt and dark ,despair4 ,and as he watched for final victory ,he saw that light flash through the silent cave1 ,and heard the ,buddha breathe that earnest prayer1 ,and fled amazed1 nor dared to look behind4 ,for though to ,buddha all his way seemed dark1 ,his wily enemy could see a ,power1 ,a mighty ,power1 that ever hovered near1 ,a present help in every time of need1 ,when sinking souls seek earnestly for aid4 ,he fled1 indeed1 as flies the prowling wolf1 ,alarmed at watch-dog's bark or shepherd's voice1 ,while seeking entrance to the slumbering fold1 ,but soon returns with soft and stealthy step1 ,with keenest scent snuffing the passing breeze1 ,with ears erect catching each slightest sound1 ,with glaring eyes watching each moving thing1 ,with hungry jaws1 skulking about the fold ,till coming dawn drives him to seek his lair4 ,so ,mara fled1 and so he soon returned1 ,and thus he watched the ,buddha's every step2 ,saw him with gentleness quell haughty power2 ,saw him with tenderness raise up the weak2 ,heard him before the ,brahmans and the king ,denounce those bloody rites ordained by him2 ,heard him declare the deadly work of ,sin1 ,his own prime minister and eldest-born2 ,heard him proclaim the mighty power of ,love ,to cleanse the life and make the flinty heart ,as soft as sinews of the new-born babe4 ,and when he saw whither he bent his steps1 ,he sent three wrinkled hags1 deformed and foul1 ,the willing agents of his wicked will-- ,life-wasting ,idleness1 the thief of time2 ,lascivious ,lust1 whose very touch defiles1 ,poisoning the blood1 polluting all within2 ,and greedy ,gluttony1 most gross of all1 ,whose ravening maw forever asks for more-- ,to that delightful garden near his way1 ,to tempt the ,master1 their true forms concealed-- ,for who so gross that such coarse hags could tempt8-- ,but clothed instead in youthful beauty's grace4 ,and now he saw him pass unmoved by lust1 ,nor yet with cold1 self-righteous pride puffed up1 ,but breathing pity from his inmost soul ,e'en for the ministers of vice themselves4 ,defeated1 not discouraged1 still he thought ,to try one last device1 for well he knew ,that ,buddha's steps approached the sacred tree ,where light would dawn and all his power would end4 ,upon a seat beside the shaded path1 ,a seeming aged ,brahman1 ,mara sat1 ,and when the prince approached1 his tempter rose1 ,saluting him with gentle stateliness1 ,saluted in return with equal grace4 ,whither away1 my son8 the tempter said1 ,if you to ,gaya now direct your steps1 ,perhaps your youth may cheer my lonely age4 ,i go to seek for light1 the prince replied1 ,but where it matters not1 so light be found4 ,but ,mara answered him3 ,your search is vain4 ,why seek to know more than the ,vedas teach8 ,why seek to learn more than the teachers know8 ,but such is youth2 the rosy tints of dawn ,tinge all his thoughts4 ',excelsior6' he cries1 ,and fain would scale the unsubstantial clouds ,to find a light that knows no night1 no change2 ,we ,brahmans chant our hymns in solemn wise1 ,the vulgar listen with profoundest awe2 ,but still our muffled heart-throbs beat the march ,onward1 forever onward1 to the grave1 ,when one ahead cries1 ',lo6 ,i see a light6' ,and others clutch his garments1 following on4 ,till all in starless darkness disappear1 ,there may be day beyond this starless night1 ,there may be life beyond this dark profound-- ,but who has ever seen that changeless day8 ,what steps have e'er retraced that silent road8 ,fables there are1 hallowed by hoary age1 ,fables and ancient creeds1 that men have made ,to give them power with ignorance and fear2 ,fables of gods with human passions filled3 ,fables of men who walked and talked with gods2 ,fables of kalpas passed1 when ,brahma slept ,and all created things were wrapped in flames1 ,and then the floods descended1 chaos reigned1 ,the world a waste of waters1 and the heavens ,a sunless void1 until again he wakes1 ,and sun and moon and stars resume their rounds1 ,oceans receding show the mountain-tops1 ,and then the hills and spreading plains-- ,strange fables all1 that crafty men have feigned4 ,why waste your time pursuing such vain dreams-- ,as some benighted travelers chase false lights ,to lose themselves in bogs and fens at last8 ,but read instead in ,nature's open book ,how light from darkness grew by slow degrees2 ,how crawling worms grew into light-winged birds1 ,acquiring sweetest notes and gayest plumes2 ,how lowly ferns grew into lofty palms2 ,how men have made themselves from chattering apes2#b ,how1 even from protoplasm to highest bard1 ,selecting and rejecting1 mind has grown1 ,until at length all secrets are unlocked1 ,and man himself now stands pre-eminent1 ,maker and master of his own great self1 ,to sneer at all his lisping childlike past ,and laugh at all his fathers had revered4 ,the prince with gentle earnestness replied3 ,full well ,i know how blindly we grope on ,in doubt and fear and ignorance profound1 ,the wisdom of the past a book now sealed4 ,but why despise what ages have revered8 ,as some rude plowman casts on rubbish-heaps ,the rusty casket that his share reveals1 ,not knowing that within it are concealed ,most precious gems1 to make him rich indeed1 ,the hand that hid them from the robber1 cold1 ,the key that locked this rusty casket1 lost4 ,the past was wise1 else whence that wondrous tongue#c ,that we call sacred1 which the learned speak1 ,now passing out of use as too refined ,for this rude age1 too smooth for our rough tongues1 ,too rich and delicate for our coarse thoughts4 ,why should such men make fables so absurd ,unless within their rough outside is stored ,some precious truth from profanation hid8 ,revere your own1 revile no other faith1 ,lest with the casket you reject the gems1 ,or with rough hulls reject the living seed4 ,doubtless in nature changes have been wrought ,that speak of ages in the distant past1 ,whose contemplation fills the mind with awe4 ,the smooth-worn pebbles on the highest hills ,speak of an ocean sweeping o'er their tops2 ,the giant palms1 now changed to solid rocks1 ,speak of the wonders of a buried world4 ,why seek to solve the riddle nature puts1 ,of whence and why1 with theories and dreams8 ,the crawling worm proclaims its ,maker's power2 ,the singing bird proclaims its ,maker's skill2 ,the mind of man proclaims a greater ,mind1 ,whose will makes world1 whose thoughts are living acts4 ,our every heart-throb speaks of present power1 ,preserving1 recreating1 day by day4 ,better confess how little we can know1 ,better with feet unshod and humble awe ,approach this living ,power to ask for aid4 ,and as he spoke the devas filled the air1 ,unseen1 unheard of men1 and sweetly sung3 ,hail1 prince of peace6 hail1 harbinger of day6 ,the darkness vanishes1 the light appears4 ,but ,mara heard1 and silent slunk away1 ,the o'erwrought prince fell prostrate on the ground ,and lay entranced1 while devas hovered near1 ,watching each heart-throb1 breathing that sweet calm ,its guardian angel gives the sleeping child4 ,the night has passed1 the day-star fades from sight1 ,and morning's softest tint of rose and gold ,tinges the east and tips the mountain-tops4 ,the silent village stirs with waking life1 ,the bleat of goats and low of distant herds1 ,the song of birds and crow of jungle-cocks ,breathe softest music through the dewy air4 ,and now two girls1#d just grown to womanhood1 ,the lovely daughters of the village lord1 ,trapusha one1 and one ,balika called1 ,up with the dawn1 trip lightly o'er the grass1 ,bringing rich curds and rice picked grain by grain1 ,a willing offering to their guardian god-- ,who dwelt1 as all the simple folk believed1 ,beneath an aged bodhi-tree that stood ,beside the path and near where ,buddha lay-- ,to ask such husbands as their fancies paint1 ,gentle and strong1 and noble1 true and brave2 ,and having left their gifts and made their vows1 ,with timid steps the maidens stole away4 ,but while the outer world is filled with life4 ,that inner world from whence this life proceeds1 ,concealed from sight by matter's blinding folds1 ,whose coarser currents fill with wondrous power ,the nervous fluid of the universe ,which darts through nature's frame1 from star to star1 ,from cloud to cloud1 filling the world with awe2 ,now harnessed to our use1 a patient drudge1 ,heedless of time or space1 bears human thought ,from land to land and through the ocean's depths2 ,and bears the softest tones of human speech ,faster than light1 farther than ocean sounds2 ,and whirls the clattering car through crowded streets1 ,and floods with light the haunts of prowling thieves-- ,that inner world1 whose very life is love1 ,pure love1 and perfect1 infinite1 intense1 ,that world is now astir4 ,a rift appears ,in those dark clouds that rise from sinful souls ,and hide from us its clear celestial light1 ,and clouds of messengers from that bright world1 ,whom they called devas and we angels call1 ,rush to that rift to rescue and to save4 ,the wind from their bright wings fanned ,buddha's soul1 ,the love from their sweet spirits warmed his heart4 ,he starts from sleep1 but rising1 scarcely knows ,if he had seen a vision while awake1 ,or1 sunk in sleep1 had dreamed a heavenly dream4 ,from that pure presence all his tempters fled4 ,the calm of conflict ended filled his soul1 ,and led by unseen hands he forward passed ,to where the sacred fig-tree long had grown1 ,beneath whose shade the village altar stood1 ,where simple folk would place their willing gifts1 ,and ask the aid their simple wants required1 ,believing all the life above1 around1 ,the life within themselves1 must surely come ,from living powers that ever hovered near4 ,here lay the food ,sagata's daughters brought1 ,the choicest products of his herds and fields1 ,this grateful food met nature's every need1 ,diffused a healthful glow through all his frame1 ,and all the body's eager yearnings stilled4 ,seven days he sat1 and ate no more nor drank1 ,yet hungered not1 nor burned with parching thirst1 ,for heavenly manna fed his hungry soul-- ,its wants were satisfied1 the body's ceased4 ,seven days he sat1 in sweet internal peace ,waiting for light1 and sure that light would come1 ,when seeming scales fell from his inner sight1 ,his spirit's eyes were opened and he saw ,not far away1 but near1 within1 above1 ,as dwells the soul within this mortal frame1 ,a world within this workday world of ours1 ,the living soul of all material things4 ,eastward he saw a never-setting ,sun1 ,whose light is truth1 the light of all the worlds1 ,whose heat is tender1 all-embracing love1 ,the inmost ,life of everything that lives1 ,the mighty ,prototype and primal ,cause ,of all the suns that light this universe1 ,from ours1 full-orbed1 that tints the glowing east ,and paints the west a thousand varied shades1 ,to that far distant little twinkling star ,that seems no larger than the glow-worm's lamp1 ,itself a sun to light such worlds as ours2 ,and round about ,him clouds of living light1 ,bright clouds of cherubim and seraphim1 ,who sing ,his praise and execute ,his will-- ,not idly singing1 as the foolish feign1 ,but voicing forth their joy they work and sing2 ,doing ,his will1 their works sound forth ,his praise4 ,on every side were fields of living green1 ,with gardens1 groves and gently rising hills1 ,where crystal streams of living waters flow1 ,and dim with distance ,meru's lofty heights4 ,no desert sands1 no mountains crowned with ice1 ,for here the scorching simoom never blows1 ,nor wintry winds1 that pierce and freeze and kill1 ,but gentle breezes breathing sweet perfumes2 ,no weeds1 no thorns1 no bitter poisonous fruits1 ,no noxious reptiles and no prowling beasts2 ,for in this world of innocence and love ,no evil thoughts give birth to evil things1 ,but many birds of every varied plume ,delight the ear with sweetest melody2 ,and many flowers of every varied tint ,fill all the air with odors rich and sweet2 ,and many fruits1 suited to every taste1 ,hang ripe and ready that who will may eat-- ,a world of life1 with all its lights and shades1 ,the bright original of our sad world ,without its sin and storms1 its thorns and tears4 ,no ,lethe's sluggish waters lave its shores1 ,nor solemn shades1 of poet's fancy bred1 ,sit idly here to boast of battles past1 ,nor wailing ghosts wring here their shadowy hands ,for lack of honor to their cast-off dust2 ,but living men1 in human bodies clothed-- ,not bodies made of matter1 dull and coarse1 ,dust from the dust and soon to dust returned1 ,but living bodies1 clothing living souls1 ,bodies responsive to the spirit's will1 ,clothing in acts the spirit's inmost thoughts-- ,dwell here in many mansions1 large and fair1 ,stretching beyond the keenest vision's hen1 ,with room for each and more than room for all1 ,forever filling and yet never full4 ,not clogged by matter1 fast as fleetest birds1 ,wishing to go1 they go2 to come1 they come4 ,no helpless infancy or palsied age1 ,but all in early manhood's youthful bloom1 ,the old grown young1 the child to man's estate4 ,gentle they seemed as they passed to and fro1 ,gentle and strong1 with every manly grace2 ,busy as bees in summer's sunny hours1 ,in works of usefulness and acts of love2 ,no pinching poverty or grasping greed1 ,gladly receiving1 they more gladly give1 ,sharing in peace the bounties free to all4 ,as lost in wonder and delight he gazed1 ,he saw approaching from a pleasant grove ,two noble youths1 yet full of gentleness1 ,attending one from sole to crown a queen1 ,with every charm of fresh and blooming youth ,and every grace of early womanhood1 ,her face the mirror of her gentle soul1 ,her flowing robes finer than softest silk1 ,that as she moved seemed woven of the light2 ,not borne by clumsy wings1 or labored steps1 ,she glided on as if her will had wings ,that bore her willing body where she wished4 ,as she approached1 close by her side he saw1 ,as through a veil or thin transparent mist1 ,the form and features of the aged king1 ,older and frailer by six troubled years ,than when they parted1 yet his very face1 ,whom she was watching with the tenderest care4 ,and nearer seen each seeming youth was two1 ,as when at first in ,eden's happy shade ,our primal parents ere the tempter came ,were twain1 and yet but one1 so on they come1 ,hand joined in hand1 heart beating close to heart1 ,one will their guide and sharing every thought1 ,beaming with tender1 all-embracing love1 ,whom ,god had joined and death had failed to part4 ,what need of words to introduce his guests8 ,love knows her own1 the mother greets her son4 ,her parents and the king's1 who long had watched ,their common offspring with a constant care1 ,inspiring hope and breathing inward peace ,when secret foes assailed on every side1 ,now saw him burst the clouds that veiled their view ,and stand triumphant full before their eyes4 ,o happy meeting6 joy profound1 complete6 ,soul greeting soul1 heart speaking straight to heart1 ,while countless happy faces hovered near ,and song's of joy sound through ,nirvana's heights4 ,at length1 the transports of first meeting past1 ,more of this new-found world he wished to see1 ,more of its peace and joy he wished to know4 ,led by his loving guides1 enwrapt he saw ,such scenes of beauty passing human speech1 ,such scenes of peace and joy past human thought1 ,that he who sings must tune a heavenly lyre ,and seraphs touch his lips with living fire4 ,my unanointed lips will not presume ,to try such lofty themes1 glad if ,i gain ,a distant prospect of the promised land1 ,and catch some glimpses through the gates ajar4 ,long time he wandered through these blissful scenes1 ,time measured by succession of delights1 ,till wearied by excess of very joy ,both soul and body sunk in tranquil sleep4 ,he slept while hosts of devas sweetly sung3 ,hail1 great physician6 savior1 lover1 friend6 ,joy of the worlds1 guide to ,nirvana1 hail6 ,from whose bright presence ,mara's myriads fled4 ,but ,mara's self1 subtlest of all1 fled not1 ,but putting on a seeming yogi's form1 ,wasted1 as if by fasts1 to skin and bone1 ,on one foot standing1 rooted to the ground1 ,the other raised against his fleshless thigh1 ,hands stretched aloft till joints had lost their use1 ,and clinched so close1 as if in firm resolve1 ,the nails had grown quite through the festering palms1#e ,his tattered robes1 as if worn out by age1 ,hanging like moss from trees decayed and dead1 ,while birds were nesting in his tangled hair4 ,and thus disguised the subtle ,mara stood1 ,and when the master roused him from his sleep ,his tempter cried in seeming ecstasy3 ,o6 happy wakening6 joy succeeding grief6 ,peace after trouble6 rest that knows no end6 ,life after death6 ,nirvana found at last6 ,here let us wait till wasted by decay ,the body's worn-out fetters drop away4 ,much suffering-brother1 ,buddha answered him1 ,the weary traveler1 wandering through the night ,in doubt and darkness1 gladly sees the dawn4 ,the storm-tossed sailor on the troubled sea1 ,wearied and drenched1 with joy re-enters port4 ,but other nights succeed that happy dawn1 ,and other seas may toss that sailor's bark4 ,but he who sees ,nirvana's sacred ,sun1 ,and in ,nirvana's haven furls his sails1 ,no more shall wander through the starless night1 ,no more shall battle with the winds and waves4 ,o joy of joys6 our eyes have seen that ,sun6 ,our sails have almost reached that sheltering port1 ,but shall we1 joyful at our own escape1 ,leave our poor brothers battling with the storm1 ,sails rent1 barks leaking1 helm and compass lost1 ,no light to guide1 no hope to cheer them on8 ,each for himself must seek1 as we have sought1 ,the tempter said1 and each must climb alone ,the rugged path our weary feet have trod4 ,no royal road leads to ,nirvana's rest2 ,no royal captain guides his army there4 ,why leave the heights with so much labor gained8 ,why plunge in darkness we have just escaped8 ,men will not heed the message we may bring4 ,the great will scorn1 the rabble will deride1#f ,and cry ',he hath a devil and is mad4' ,true1 answered ,buddha1 each must seek to find2 ,each for himself must leave the downward road2 ,each for himself must choose the narrow path ,that leads to purity and peace and life4 ,but helping hands will aid those struggling up2 ,a warning voice may check those hasting down4 ,men are like lilies in yon shining pool3 ,some sunk in evil grovel in the dust1 ,loving like swine to wallow in the mire-- ,like those that grow within its silent depths1 ,scarce raised above its black and oozy bed2 ,while some love good1 and seek the purest light1 ,breathing sweet fragrance from their gentle lives-- ,like those that rise above its glassy face1 ,sparkling with dewdrops1 royally arrayed1 ,drinking the brightness of the morning sun1 ,distilling odors through the balmy air2 ,but countless multitudes grope blindly on1 ,shut out from light and crushed by cruel castes1 ,willing to learn1 whom none will deign to teach1 ,willing to rise1 whom none will deign to guide1 ,who from the cradle to the silent grave1 ,helpless and hopeless1 only toil and weep-- ,like those that on the stagnant waters float1 ,smothered with leaves1 covered with ropy slime1 ,that from the rosy dawn to dewy eve ,scarce catch one glimmer of the glorious sun4 ,the good scarce need1 the bad will scorn1 my aid2 ,but these poor souls will gladly welcome help4 ,welcome to me the scorn of rich and great1 ,welcome the ,brahman's proud and cold disdain1 ,welcome revilings from the rabble rout1 ,if ,i can lead some groping souls to light-- ,if ,i can give some weary spirits rest4 ,farewell1 my brother1 you have earned release-- ,rest here in peace4 ,i go to aid the poor4 ,and as he spoke a flash of lurid light ,shot through the air1 and ,buddha stood alone-- ,alone6 to teach the warring nations peace6 ,alone6 to lead a groping world to light6 ,alone6 to give the heavy-laden rest6 #a;,a sakwal was a sun with its system of worlds1 which the ancient ,hindoos believed extended one beyond another through infinite space4 ,it indicates great advance in astronomical knowledge when such a complex idea1 now universally received as true1 as that the fixed stars are suns with systems of worlds like ours1 could be expressed in a single word4 #b;,it may seem like an anachronism to put the very words of the modern agnostic into the mouth of ,buddha's tempter1 but these men are merely threshing over old straw4 ,the sneer of ,epicurus curled the lip of ,voltaire1 and now merely breaks out into a broad laugh on the good-natured face of ,ingersoll4 #c,the ,sanscrit1 the most perfect of all languages1 and the mother of ,greek and of all the languages of the ,aryan races1 now spread over the world1 had gone out of use in ,buddha's time1 and the ,pali1 one of its earliest offspring1 was used by the great teacher and his people4 #d;,arnold follows the tradition1 that there was but one1 whom he makes a young wife1 without any authority so far as ,i can learn4 ,i prefer to follow the ,chinese pilgrim1 ,fa ,hian1 who was on the ground with every means of knowing1 who makes them two young girls1 and named as above4 #e;,bishop ,heber says he saw a recluse whose hands had been clinched so close and so long that the nails had actually grown through the hands as here described4 #f,the last temptation of ,buddha was to keep his light to himself under the fear that men would reject his message4 ,,book ,,vi4 ,seven days had passed since first he saw the light1 ,seven days of deep1 ecstatic peace and joy1 ,of open vision of that blissful world1 ,of sweet communion with those dwelling there4 ,but having tasted1 seen and felt the joys ,of that bright world where love is all in all1 ,filling each heart1 inspiring every thought1 ,guiding each will and prompting every act1 ,he yearned to see the other1 darker side ,of that bright picture1 where the wars and hates1 ,the lust1 the greed1 the cruelty and crime ,that fill the world with pain and want and woe ,have found their dwelling-place and final goal4 ,quicker than eagles soaring toward the sun ,till but a speck against the azure vault ,swoop down upon their unsuspecting prey1 ,quicker than watch-fires on the mountain-top ,send warnings to the dwellers in the plain1 ,led by his guides he reached ,nirvana's verge1 ,whence he beheld a broad and pleasant plain1 ,spread with a carpet of the richest green ,and decked with flowers of every varied tint1 ,whose blended odors fill the balmy air1 ,where trees1 pleasant to sight and good for food1 ,in rich abundance and spontaneous grow4 ,a living stream1 as purest crystal clear1 ,with gentle murmurs wound along the plain1 ,its surface bright with fairer lotus-flowers ,than mortal eye on earth had ever seen1 ,while on its banks were cool1 umbrageous groves ,whose drooping branches spicy breezes stir1 ,a singing bird in every waving bough1 ,whose joyful notes the soul of music shed4 ,a mighty multitude1 beyond the power ,of men to number1 moved about the plain2 ,some1 seeming strangers1 wander through the groves ,and pluck the flowers or eat the luscious fruits2 ,some1 seeming visitors from better worlds1 ,here wait and watch as for expected guests2 ,while angel devas1 clothed in innocence1 ,whose faces beam with wisdom1 glow with love1 ,with loving welcomes greet each coming guest1 ,with loving counsels aid1 instruct and guide4 ,and as he looked1 the countless1 restless throng ,seemed ever changing1 ever moving on1 ,so that this plain1 comparing great to small1 ,seemed like a station near some royal town1 ,greater than ,london or old ,babylon1 ,where all the roads from some vast empire meet1 ,and many caravans or sweeping trains ,bring and remove the ever-changing throng4 ,this plain a valley bordered1 deep and still1 ,the very valley of his fearful dream ,seen from the other side1 whose rising mists ,were all aglow with ever-changing light1 ,like passing clouds above the setting sun1 ,through which as through a glass he darkly saw ,unnumbered funeral-trains1 in sable clad1 ,to solemn music and with measured tread ,bearing their dead to countless funeral-piles1 ,as thick as heaps that through the livelong day ,with patient toil the sturdy woodmen rear1 ,while clearing forests for the golden grain1 ,and set aflame when evening's shades descend1 ,filling the glowing woods with floods of light ,and ghostly shadows3 ,so these funeral-piles ,send up their curling smoke and crackling flames4 ,there eager flames devour an infant's flesh2 ,here loving arms that risen infant clasp2 ,there loud laments bewail a loved one lost2 ,here joyful welcomes greet that loved one found4 ,and there he saw a pompous funeral-train1 ,bearing a body clothed in robes of state1 ,to blare of trumpet1 sound of shell and drum1 ,while many mourners bow in silent grief1 ,and widows1 orphans raise a loud lament ,as for a father1 a protector lost2 ,and as the flames lick up the fragrant oils1 ,and whirl and hiss around that wasting form1 ,an eager watcher from a better world ,welcomes her husband to her open arms1 ,the cumbrous load of pomp and power cast off1 ,while waiting devas and the happy throng ,his power protected and his bounty blessed ,with joy conduct his unaccustomed steps ,onward and upward1 to those blissful seats ,where all his stores of duties well performed1 ,of power well used and wealth in kindness given1 ,were garnered up beyond the reach of thieves1 ,where moths ne'er eat and rust can ne'er corrupt4 ,another train draws near a funeral-pile1 ,of aloes1 sandal-wood and cassia built1 ,and drenched with every incense-breathing oil1 ,and draped with silks and rich with rarest flowers1 ,where grim officials clothed in robes of state ,placed one in royal purple1 decked with gems1 ,whose word had been a trembling nation's law1 ,whose angry nod was death to high or low4 ,no mourners gather round this costly pile2 ,the people shrink in terror from the sight4 ,but sullen soldiers there keep watch and ward ,while eager flames consume those nerveless hands ,so often raised to threaten or command1 ,suck out those eyes that filled the court with fear1 ,and only left of all this royal pomp ,a little dust the winds may blow away4 ,but here that selfsame monarch comes in view1 ,for royal purple clothed in filthy rags1 ,and lusterless that crown of priceless gems2 ,those eyes1 whose bend so lately awed the world1 ,blinking and bleared and blinded by the light2 ,those hands1 that late a royal scepter bore1 ,shaking with fear and dripping all with blood4 ,and as he looked that some should give him place ,and lead him to a seat for monarchs fit1 ,he only saw a group of innocents ,his hands had slain1 now clothed in spotless white1 ,from whom he fled as if by furies chased1 ,fled from those groves and gardens of delight1 ,fled on and down a broad and beaten road ,by many trod1 and toward a desert waste ,with distance dim1 and gloomy1 grim and vast1 ,where piercing thorns and leafless briars grow1 ,and dead sea-apples1 ashes to the taste1 ,where loathsome reptiles crawl and hiss and sting1 ,and birds of night and bat-winged dragons fly1 ,where beetling cliffs seem threatening instant fall1 ,and opening chasms seem yawning to devour1 ,and sulphurous seas were swept with lurid flames ,that seethe and boil from hidden fires below4 ,again he saw1 beyond that silent vale1 ,one frail and old1 without a rich man's gate ,laid down to die beneath a peepul-tree1 ,and parched with thirst and pierced with sudden pain1 ,a root his pillow and the earth his bed2 ,alone he met the ,king of terrors there2 ,whose wasting body1 cumbering now the ground1 ,chandalas cast upon the passing stream ,to float and fester in the fiery sun1 ,till whirled by eddies1 caught by roots1 it lay ,a prey for vultures and for fishes food4 ,that selfsame day a dart of deadly pain ,shot through that rich man's hard1 unfeeling heart1 ,that laid him low1 beyond the power to save1 ,e'en while his servants cast without his gates ,that poor old man1 who came to beg him spare ,his roof-tree1 where his fathers all had died1 ,his hearth1 the shrine of all his inmost joys1 ,his little home1 to every heart so dear2 ,and in due season tongues of hissing flames ,that rich man's robes like snowflakes whirled in air1 ,and curled his crackling skin1 consumed his flesh1 ,and sucked the marrow from his whitened bones4 ,but here these two their places seem to change4 ,that rich man's houses1 lands1 and flocks and herds1 ,his servants1 rich apparel1 stores of gold1 ,and all he loved and lived for left behind1 ,the friends that nature gave him turned to foes1 ,dependents whom his greed had wronged and crushed ,shrinking away as from a deadly foe2 ,no generous wish1 no gentle1 tender1 thought ,to hide his nakedness1 his shriveled soul ,stood stark and bare1 the gaze of passers-by2 ,nothing within to draw him on and up1 ,he slinks away1 and wanders on and down1 ,till in the desert1 groveling in the dust1 ,he digs and burrows1 seeking treasures there-- ,while that poor man1 as we count poverty1 ,is rich in all that makes the spirit's wealth1 ,his heart so pure that thoughts of guile ,and evil purpose find no lodgment there2 ,his life so innocent that bitter words ,and evil-speaking ne'er escape his lips2 ,the little that he had he freely shared1 ,and wished it more that more he might have given2 ,now rich in soul--for here a crust of bread ,in kindness shared1 a cup of water given1 ,is worth far more than all ,potosi's mines1 ,and ,araby's perfumes and ,india's silks1 ,and all the cattle on a thousand hills-- ,and clothed as with a robe of innocence ,the devas welcome him1 his troubles passed1 ,the conflict ended and the triumph gained4 ,and there two ,brahmans press their funeral-pile1 ,and sink to dust amid the whirling flames4 ,each from his lisping infancy had heard ,that ,brahmans were a high and holy caste1 ,too high and holy for the common touch1 ,and each had learned the ,vedas' sacred lore4 ,but here they parted4 ,one was cold and proud1 ,drawing away from all the humbler castes ,as made to toil1 and only fit to serve4 ,the other found within those sacred books ,that all were brothers1 made of common clay1 ,and filled with life from one eternal source1 ,while ,brahmans only elder brothers were1 ,with greater light to be his brother's guide1 ,with greater strength to give his brother aid2 ,that he alone a real ,brahman was ,who had a ,brahman's spirit1 not his blood4 ,with patient toil from youth to hoary age ,he taught the ignorant and helped the weak4 ,and now they come where all external pomp ,and rank and caste and creed are nothing worth4 ,but when that proud and haughty ,brahman saw ,poor ,sudras and ,chandalas clothed in white1 ,he swept away with proud and haughty scorn1 ,swept on and down where heartless selfishness ,alone can find congenial company4 ,the other1 full of joy1 his brothers met1 ,and in sweet harmony they journeyed on ,where higher joys await the pure in heart4 ,and there he saw all ranks and grades and castes1 ,chandala1 ,sudra1 warrior1 ,brahman1 prince1 ,the wise and ignorant1 the strong and weak1 ,in all the stages of our mortal round ,from lisping2 infancy to palsied age1 ,by all the ways to human frailty known1 ,enter that vale of shadows1 deep and still1 ,leaving behind their pomp and power and wealth1 ,leaving their rags and wretchedness and want1 ,and cast-off bodies1 dust to dust returned1 ,by flames consumed or moldering to decay1 ,while here the real character appeared1 ,all shows1 hypocrisies and shams cast off1 ,so that a life of gentleness and love ,shines through the face and molds the outer form ,to living beauty1 blooming not to fade1 ,while every act of cruelty and crime ,seems like a gangrened ever-widening wound1 ,wasting the very substance of the soul1 ,marring its beauty1 eating out its strength4 ,and here arrived1 the good1 in little groups ,together drawn by inward sympathy1 ,and led by devas1 take the upward way ,to those sweet fields his opened eyes had seen1 ,those ever-widening mansions of delight2 ,while those poor souls--,o sad and fearful sight6-- ,the very well-springs of the life corrupt1 ,shrink from the light and shun the pure and good1 ,fly from the devas1 who with perfect love ,would gladly soothe their anguish1 ease their pain1 ,fly on and down that broad and beaten road1 ,till in the distance in the darkness lost4 ,lost6 lost6 and must it be forever lost8 ,the gentle ,buddha's all-embracing love ,shrunk from the thought1 but rather sought relief ,in that most ancient faith by sages taught1 ,that these poor souls at length may find escape1 ,the grasping in the gross and greedy swine1 ,the cunning in the sly and prowling fox1 ,the cruel in some ravening beast of prey2 ,while those less hardened1 less depraved1 may gain ,rebirth in men1 degraded1 groveling1 base4#a ,but here in sadness let us drop the veil1 ,hoping that ,he whose ways are not like ours1 ,whose love embraces all ,his handiwork1 ,who in beginnings sees the final end1 ,may find some way to save these sinful souls ,consistent with ,his fixed eternal law ,that good from good1 evil from evil flows4 ,here ,buddha saw the mystery of life ,at last unfolded to its hidden depths4 ,he saw that selfishness was sorrow's root1 ,and ignorance its dense and deadly shade2 ,he saw that selfishness bred lust and hate1 ,deformed the features1 and defiled the soul ,and closed its windows to those waves of love ,that flow perennial from ,nirvana's ,sun4 ,he saw that groveling lusts and base desires ,like noxious weeds unchecked luxurious grow1 ,making a tangled jungle of the soul1 ,where no good seed can find a place to root1 ,where noble purposes and pure desires ,and gentle thoughts wither and fade and die ,like flowers beneath the deadly upas-tree4 ,he saw that selfishness bred grasping greed1 ,and made the miser1 made the prowling thief1 ,and bred hypocrisy1 pretense1 deceit1 ,and made the bigot1 made the faithless priest1 ,bred anger1 cruelty1 and thirst for blood1 ,and made the tyrant1 stained the murderer's knife1 ,and filled the world with war and want and woe1 ,and filled the dismal regions of the lost ,with fiery flames of passions never quenched1 ,with sounds of discord1 sounds of clanking chains1 ,with cries of anguish1 howls of bitter hate1 ,yet saw that man was free--not bound and chained#b ,helpless and hopeless to a whirling wheel1 ,rolled on resistless by some cruel power1 ,regardless of their cries and prayers and tears-- ,free to resist those gross and groveling lusts1 ,free to obey ,nirvana's law of love1 ,the law of order--primal1 highest law-- ,which guides the great ,artificer himself1 ,who weaves the garments of the joyful spring1 ,who paints the glories of the passing clouds1 ,who tunes the music of the rolling spheres1 ,guided by love in all ,his mighty works1 ,filling with love the humblest willing heart4 ,he saw that love softens and sweetens life1 ,and stills the passions1 soothes the troubled breast1 ,fills homes with joy and gives the nations peace1 ,a sovereign balm for all the spirit's wounds1 ,the living fountain of ,nirvana's bliss2 ,for here before his eyes were countless souls1 ,born to the sorrows of a sinful world1 ,with burdens bowed1 by cares and griefs oppressed1 ,who felt for others' sorrows as their own1 ,who lent a helping hand to those in need1 ,returning good for evil1 love for hate1 ,whose garments now were white as spotless wool1 ,whose faces beamed with gentleness and love1 ,as onward1 upward1 devas guide their steps1 ,nirvana's happy mansions full in view4 ,he saw the noble eightfold path that mounts ,from life's low levels to ,nirvana's heights4 ,not by steep grades the strong alone can climb1 ,but by such steps as feeblest limbs may take4 ,he saw that day by day and step by step1 ,by lusts resisted and by evil shunned1 ,by acts of love and daily duties done1 ,soothing some heartache1 helping those in need1 ,smoothing life's journey for a brother's feet1 ,guarding the lips from harsh and bitter words1 ,guarding the heart from gross and selfish thoughts1 ,guarding the hands from every evil act1 ,brahman or ,sudra1 high or low1 may rise ,till heaven's bright mansions open to the view1 ,and heaven's warm sunshine brightens all the way2 ,while neither hecatombs of victims slain1 ,nor clouds of incense wafted to the skies1 ,nor chanted hymns1 nor prayers to all the gods1 ,can raise a soul that clings to groveling lusts4 ,he saw the cause of sorrow1 and its cure4 ,he saw that waves of love surround the soul ,as waves of sunlight fill the outer world1 ,while selfishness1 the subtle alchemist ,concealed within1 changes that love to hate1 ,forges the links of karma's fatal chain1 ,of passions1 envies1 lusts to bind the soul1 ,and weaves his webs of falsehood and deceit ,to close its windows to the living light1 ,changing its mansion to its prison-house1 ,where it must lay self-chained and self-condemned2 ,while ,,dharma1 ,,truth1 the ,,law1 the ,,living ,,word1 ,brushes away those deftly woven webs1 ,opens its windows to the living light1 ,reveals the architect of all its ills1 ,scatters the timbers of its prison-house1#c ,and snaps in twain those bitter1 galling chains ,so that the soul once more may stand erect1 ,victor of self1 no more to be enslaved1 ,and live in charity and gentle peace1 ,bearing all meekly1 loving those who hate2 ,and when at last the fated stream is reached1 ,with lightened boat to reach the other shore4 ,and here he found the light he long had sought1 ,gilding at once ,nirvana's blissful heights ,and lighting life's sequestered1 lowly vales-- ,a light whose inner life is perfect love1 ,a love whose outer form is living light1 ,nirvana's ,sun1 the ,light of all the worlds1#d ,heart of the universe1 whose mighty pulse ,gives heaven1 the worlds and even hell their life1 ,maker and ,father of all living things ,matreya's#e self1 the ,lover1 ,saviour1 ,guide1 ,the last1 the greatest ,buddha1 who must rule ,as ,lord of all before the kalpa's end4 ,the way of life--the noble eightfold path1 ,the way of truth1 the ,dharma-pada--found1 ,with joy he bade his loving guides farewell1 ,with joy he turned from all those blissful scenes4 ,and when the rosy dawn next tinged the east1 ,and morning's burst of song had waked the day1 ,with staff and bowl he left the sacred tree-- ,where pilgrims1 passing pathless mountain-heights1 ,and desert sands1 and ocean's stormy waves1 ,from every nation1 speaking every tongue1 ,should come in after-times to breathe their vows-- ,beginning on that day his pilgrimage ,of five and forty years from place to place1 ,breaking the cruel chains of caste and creed1 ,teaching the law of love1 the way of life4 #a,the later ,buddhists make much of the doctrine of metempsychosis1 but in the undoubted sayings and ,sutras or sermons of ,buddha ,i find no mention of it except in this way as the last hope of those who persist through life in evil1 while the good after death reach the other shore1 or ,nirvana1 where there is no more birth or death4 #b,this great and fundamental truth1 lying as the basis of human action and responsibility1 was recognized by ,homer1 who makes ,jupiter say3 ,perverse mankind1 whose wills created free1 ,charge all their woes to absolute decree4 ,odyssey1 ,book ,i1 lines #da and #db #c;,after examining the attempted explanations of that remarkable passage1 the original of which is given at the end of the sixth book of ,arnold's ,light of ,asia1 ,i am satisfied this is its true interpretation4 ,it is not the death of the body1 for he lived forty-five years afterwards1 much less the annihilation of the soul1 as some have imagined1 but the conquest of the passions and gross and selfish desires which make human life a prison1 the very object and end of the highest ,christian teaching's and aspirations4 #d ,know then that heaven and earth's compacted frame1 ,and flowing waters1 and the starry flame1 ,and both the radiant lights1 one common soul ,inspires and feeds and animates the whole4 ,dryden's ,virgil1 ,book ,,vi1 line #cfj4 #e;,buddha predicted that ,matreya 7,love incarnate7 would be his successor 7see ,beal's ,fa ,hian1 page #acg1 note #b1 and page #afb2 also ,hardy's ,manual1 page #chf1 and ,oldenburgh's ,buddhism1 page #chf71 who was to come at the end of five hundred years at the end of his ,dharma 7see ,buddhism and ,christianity1 ,lillie1 page #b74 ,it is a remarkable fact that this successor is the most common object of worship among ,buddhists1 so that the most advanced ,buddhists and the most earnest ,christians have the same object of worship under different names4 ,,book ,,vii4 ,alone on his great mission going forth1 ,down ,phalgu's valley he retraced his steps1 ,down past the seat where subtle ,mara sat1 ,and past the fountain where the siren sang1 ,and past the city1 through the fruitful fields ,and gardens he had traversed day by day ,for six long years1 led by a strong desire ,to show his ,brahman teachers his new light4 ,but ah6 the change a little time had wrought6 ,a new-made stupa held their gathered dust1 ,while they had gone where all see eye to eye1 ,the darkness vanished and the river crossed4 ,then turning sadly from this hallowed spot-- ,hallowed by strivings for a higher life ,more than by dust this little mound contained-- ,he sought beneath the spreading banyan-tree ,his five companions1 whom he lately left ,sad at his own departure from the way ,the sacred ,vedas and the fathers taught4 ,they too had gone1 to ,varanassi#a gone1 ,high seat and centre of all sacred lore4 ,the day was well-nigh spent2 his cave was near1 ,where he had spent so many weary years1 ,and as he thither turned and upward climbed1 ,the shepherd's little child who watched the flock ,his love had rescued from the bloody knife1 ,upon a rock that rose above his path ,saw him pass by1 and ran with eagerness ,to bear the news4 ,joy filled that humble home4 ,they owed him all4 ,the best they had they brought1 ,and offered it with loving gratitude4 ,the master ate1 and as he ate he taught ,these simple souls the great1 the living truth ,that love is more than costly sacrifice2 ,that daily duties done are highest praise2 ,that when life's duties end its sorrows end1 ,and higher joys await the pure in heart4 ,their eager souls drank in his living words ,as those who thirst drink in the living spring4 ,then reverently they kissed his garment's hem1 ,and home returned1 while he lay down to sleep4 ,and sweetly as a babe the master slept-- ,no doubts1 no darkness1 and no troubled dreams4 ,when rosy dawn next lit the eastern sky1 ,and morning's grateful coolness filled the air1 ,the master rose and his ablutions made4 ,with bowl and staff in hand he took his way ,toward ,varanassi1 hoping there to find ,the five toward whom his earnest spirit yearned4 ,ten days have passed1 and now the rising sun4 ,that hangs above the distant mountain-peaks ,is mirrored back by countless rippling waves ,that dance upon the ,ganges' yellow stream1 ,swollen by rains and melted mountain-snows1 ,and glorifies the thousand sacred fanes#b ,with gilded pinnacles and spires and domes ,that rise in beauty on its farther bank1 ,while busy multitudes glide up and down ,with lightly dipping oars and swelling sails4 ,and pilgrims countless as those shining waves1 ,from far and near1 from mountain1 hill and plain1 ,with dust and travel-stained1 foot-sore1 heart-sick1 ,here came to bathe within the sacred stream1 ,here came to die upon its sacred banks1 ,seeking to wash the stains of guilt away1 ,seeking to lay their galling burdens down4 ,scoff not at these poor heavy-laden souls6 ,blindly they seek1 but that all-seeing ,eye ,that sees the tiny sparrow when it falls1 ,is watching them1 ,his angels hover near4 ,who knows what visions meet their dying gaze8 ,who knows what joys await those troubled hearts8 ,the ancient writings say that having naught ,to pay the ferryman1 the churl refused ,to ferry him across the swollen stream1 ,when he was raised and wafted through the air4 ,what matter whether that all-powerful ,love ,which moves the worlds1 and bears with all our sins1 ,sent him a chariot and steeds of fire1 ,or moved the heart of some poor fisherman ,to bear him over for a brother's sake8 ,all power is ,his1 and men can never thwart ,his all-embracing purposes of love4 ,now past the stream and near the sacred grove ,the deer-park called1 the five saw him approach4 ,but grieved at his departure from the way ,the ancient sages taught1 said with themselves ,they would not rise or do him reverence4 ,but as he nearer came1 the tender love1 ,the holy calm that shone upon his face1 ,made them at once forget their firm resolve4 ,they rose together1 doing reverence1 ,and bringing water washed his way-soiled feet1 ,gave him a mat1 and said as with one voice3 ,master ,gautama1 welcome to our grove4 ,here rest your weary limbs and share our shade4 ,have you escaped from karma's fatal chains ,and gained clear vision--found the living light8 ,call me not master4 ,profitless to you ,six years have passed1 the ,buddha answered them1 ,in doubt and darkness groping blindly on4 ,but now at last the day has surely dawned4 ,these eyes have seen ,nirvana's sacred ,sun1 ,and found the noble eightfold path that mounts ,from life's low levels1 mounts from death's dark shades ,to changeless day1 to never-ending rest4 ,then with the prophet's newly kindled zeal1 ,zeal for the truth his opened eyes had seen1 ,zeal for the friends whose struggles he had shared1 ,softened by sympathy and tender love1 ,he taught how selfishness was primal cause ,of every ill to which frail flesh is heir1 ,the poisoned fountain whence all sorrows flow1 ,the loathsome worm that coils about the root ,and kills the germ of every springing joy1 ,the subtle foe that sows by night the tares ,that quickly springing choke the goodly seed ,which left to grow would fill the daily life ,with balmy fragrance and with precious fruit4 ,he showed that selfishness was life's sole bane ,and love its great and sovereign antidote4 ,he showed how selfishness would change the child ,from laughing innocence to greedy youth ,and heartless manhood1 cold and cruel age1 ,which past the vale and stript of all disguise ,shrinks from the good1 and eager slinks away ,and seeks those dismal regions of the lost ,his opened eyes with sinking heart had seen4 ,then showed how love its guardian angel paints ,upon the cooing infant's smiling face1 ,grows into gentle youth1 and manhood rich ,in works of helpfulness and brotherhood1 ,and ripens into mellow1 sweet old age1 ,childhood returned with all its gentleness1 ,whose funeral-pile but lights the upward way ,to those sweet fields his opened eyes had seen1 ,those ever-widening mansions of delight4 ,enwrapt the teacher taught the living truth2 ,enwrapt the hearers heard his living words2 ,the night unheeded winged its rapid flight1 ,the morning found their souls from darkness free4 ,six yellow robes ,benares daily saw1 ,six wooden alms-bowls held for daily food1 ,six meeting sneers with smiles and hate with love1 ,six watchers by the pilgrim's dying bed1 ,six noble souls united in the work ,of giving light and hope and help to all4 ,a rich and noble youth1 an only son1 ,had seen ,gautama passing through the streets1 ,a holy calm upon his noble face1 ,had heard him tell the pilgrims by the stream1 ,gasping for breath and breathing out their lives1 ,of higher life and joys that never end2 ,and wearied1 sated by the daily round ,of pleasure1 luxury and empty show ,that waste his days but fail to satisfy1 ,yet fearing his companions' gibes and sneers1 ,he sought the master in the sacred grove ,when the full moon was mirrored in the stream1 ,the sleeping city silvered by its light2 ,and there he lingered1 drinking in his words1 ,till night was passed and day was well-nigh spent4 ,the father1 anxious for his absent son1 ,had sought him through the night from street to street ,in every haunt that youthful folly seeks1 ,and now despairing sought the sacred grove-- ,perhaps by chance1 perhaps led by the light ,that guides the pigeon to her distant home-- ,and found him there4 ,he too the ,buddha heard1 ,and finding light1 and filled with joy1 he said3 ,illustrious master1 you have found the way4 ,you place the upturned chalice on its base4 ,you fill with light the sayings dark of old4 ,you open blinded eyes to see the truth4 ,at length they thought of those poor hearts at home1 ,mother and sister1 watching through the night-- ,waiting and watching through the livelong day1 ,startled at every step1 at every sound1 ,startled at every bier that came in view ,in that great city of the stranger dead1 ,that city where the living come to die-- ,and home returned when evening's rose and gold ,had faded from the sky1 and myriad lamps ,danced on the sacred stream1 and moon and stars ,hung quivering in its dark and silent depths4 ,but day by day returned1 eager to hear ,more of that truth that sweetens daily life1 ,yet reaches upward to eternal day4 ,a marriage-feast1#c three festivals in one1 ,stirs to its depths ,benares' social life4 ,a gorgeous sunset ushers in the night1 ,sunset and city mirrored in the stream4 ,broad marble steps upon the river-bank ,lead to a garden where a blaze of bloom1 ,a hedge of rose-trees1 forms the outer wall2 ,an aged banyan-tree1#d whose hundred trunks ,sustain a vaulted roof of living green ,which scarce a ray of noonday's sun can pierce1 ,the garden's vestibule and outer court2 ,while trees of every varied leaf and bloom ,shade many winding walks1 where fountains fall ,with liquid cadence into shining pools4 ,above1 beyond1 the stately palace stands1 ,inviting in1 calling to peace and rest1 ,as if a soul dwelt in its marble form4 ,the darkness thickens1 when a flood of light ,fills every recess1 lighting every nook2 ,the garden hedge a wall of mellow light1 ,a line of lamps along the river's bank1 ,with lamps in every tree and lining every walk1 ,while lamps thick set surround each shining pool1 ,weaving with rainbow tints the falling spray4 ,and now the palace through the darkness shines4 ,a thing of beauty traced with lines of light4#e ,the guests arrive in light and graceful boats1 ,in gay gondolas such as ,venice used1 ,with richest carpets1 richest canopies1 ,and over walks with rose-leaves carpeted ,pass to the palace1 whose wide open gates ,display within ,benares' rank and wealth1 ,proud ,brahman lords and stately ,brahman dames ,and ,brahman youth and beauty1 all were there1 ,of ,aryan blood but bronzed by ,india's sun1 ,not dressed like us1 as very fashion-plates1 ,but clothed in flowing robes of softest wool ,and finest silk1 a harmony of shades1 ,sparkling with gems1 ablaze with precious stones4#f ,three noble couples greet their gathering guests3 ,an aged ,brahman and his aged wife1 ,for fifty years united in the bonds ,of wedded love1 no harsh1 unloving word ,for all those happy years1 their only fear ,that death would break the bonds that bound their souls2 ,and next their eldest born1 who sought his son1 ,and drank deep wisdom from the ,buddha's lips1 ,and by his side that mother we have seen ,outwatch the night1 whose sweet and earnest face ,by five and twenty years of wedded love1 ,by five and twenty years of busy cares-- ,the cares of home1 with all its daily joys-- ,had gained that look of holy motherhood#g ,that millions worship on their bended knees ,as highest emblem of eternal love2 ,and last that sister whose untiring love ,watched by her mother through the weary hours1 ,her fair young face all trust and happiness1 ,before her1 rainbow-tinted hopes and joys1 ,life's dark and cold and cruel side concealed1 ,and by her side a noble ,brahman youth1 ,who saw in her his every hope fulfilled4 ,but where is now that erring1 wandering son1 ,the pride of all these loyal1 loving hearts1 ,heir to this wealth and hope of this proud house8 ,seven clothed in coarsest yellow robes draw near ,with heads close shorn and bare1 unsandaled feet1 ,alms-bowl on shoulder slung and staff in hand1 ,but moving with that gentle stateliness ,that birth and blood1 not wealth and effort1 give1 ,all in the strength of manhood's early prime1 ,all heirs to wealth rejected1 cast aside1 ,but all united in the holy cause ,of giving light and hope and help to all1 ,while earnest greetings from the evening's hosts ,show they are welcome and expected guests4 ,startled1 the stately ,brahmans turn aside4 ,the heir has lost his reason1 whispered they1 ,and joined that wandering prince who late appeared ,among the yogis in the sacred grove1 ,who thinks he sees the truth by inner sight1 ,who fain would teach the wise1 and claims to know ,more than the fathers and the ,vedas teach4 ,but as he nearer came1 his stately form1 ,his noble presence and his earnest face1 ,beaming with gentleness and holy love1 ,hushed into silence every rising sneer4 ,one of their number1 wise in sacred lore1 ,profoundly learned1 in all the ,vedas versed1 ,with courtly grace saluting ,buddha1 said3 ,our ,brahman masters teach that many ways ,lead up to ,brahma ,loca1 ,brahma's rest1 ,as many roads from many distant lands ,all meet before ,benares' sacred shrines4 ,they say that he who learns the ,vedas' hymns1 ,performs the rites and prays the many prayers ,that all the sages of the past have taught1 ,in ,brahma's self shall be absorbed at last-- ,as all the streams from mountain1 hill and plain1 ,that swell proud ,gunga's broad and sacred stream1 ,at last shall mingle with the ocean's waves1 ,they say that ,brahmans are a holy caste1 ,of whiter skin and higher1 purer blood1 ,from ,brahma sprung1 and ,brahma's only heirs1 ,while you proclaim1 if rumor speaks the truth1 ,that only one hard road to ,brahma leads1 ,that every caste is pure1 of common blood1 ,that all are brothers1 all from ,brahma sprung4 ,but ,buddha1 full of gentleness1 replied3 ,ye call on ,dyaus ,pittar1 ,brahma1 ,god1#h ,one ,god and ,father1 called by many names1 ,one ,god and ,father1 seen in many forms1 ,seen in the tempest1 mingling sea and sky1 ,the blinding sand-storm1 changing day to night1 ,in gentle showers refreshing thirsty fields1 ,seen in the sun whose rising wakes the world1 ,whose setting calls a weary world to rest1 ,seen in the deep o'erarching azure vault1 ,by day a sea of light1 shining by night ,with countless suns of countless worlds unseen1 ,making us seem so little1 ,god so great4 ,ye say that ,brahma dwells in purest light2 ,ye say that ,brahma's self is perfect love2 ,ye pray to ,brahma under many names ,to give you ,brahma ,loca's perfect rest4#i ,your prayers are vain unless your hearts are clean4 ,for how can darkness dwell with perfect light8 ,and how can hatred dwell with perfect love8 ,the slandering tongue1 that stirs up strife and hate1 ,the grasping hand1 that takes but never gives1 ,the lying lips1 the cold and cruel heart1 ,whence bitterness and wars and murders spring1 ,can ne'er by prayers to ,brahma ,loca climb4#aj ,the pure in heart alone with ,brahma dwell4 ,ye say that ,brahmans are a holy caste1 ,from ,brahma sprung and ,brahma's only heirs2 ,but yet in ,bactria1 whence our fathers came1 ,and where their brothers and our kindred dwell1 ,no ,brahman ever wore the sacred cord4 ,has mighty ,brahma there no son1 no heir8 ,the ,brahman mother suffers all the pangs ,kshatriyas1 ,sudras or the ,vassas feel4 ,the ,brahman's body1 when the soul has fled1 ,a putrid mass1 defiles the earth and air1 ,vile as the ,sudras or the lowest beasts4 ,the ,brahman murderer1 libertine or thief ,ye say will be reborn in lowest beast1 ,while some poor ,sudra1 full of gentleness ,and pity1 charity and trust and love1 ,may rise to ,brahma ,loca's perfect rest1 ,why boast of caste1 that seems so little worth ,to raise the soul or ward off human ill8 ,why pray for what we do not strive to gain8 ,like merchants on the swollen ,ganges' bank ,praying the farther shore to come to them1 ,taking no steps1 seeking no means1 to cross4 ,far better strive to cast out greed and hate4 ,live not for self1 but live for others' good4 ,indulge no bitter speech1 no bitter thoughts4 ,help those in need2 give freely what we have4 ,kill not1 steal not1 and ever speak the truth4 ,indulge no lust2 taste not the maddening bowl ,that deadens sense and stirs all base desires2 ,and live in charity and gentle peace1 ,bearing all meekly1 loving those who hate4 ,this is the way to ,brahma ,loca's rest4 ,and ye who may1 come1 follow after me4 ,leave wealth and home and all the joys of life1 ,that we may aid a sad and suffering world ,in sin and sorrow groping blindly on1 ,becoming poor that others may be rich1 ,wanderers ourselves to lead the wanderers home4 ,and ye who stay1 ever remember this3 ,that hearth is ,brahma's altar where love reigns1 ,that house is ,brahma's temple where love dwells1 ,ye ask1 my aged friends1 if death can break ,the bonds that bind your souls in wedded love4 ,fear not2 death has no power to conquer love4 ,go hand in hand till death shall claim his own1 ,then hand in hand ascend ,nirvana's heights1 ,there1 hand in hand1 heart beating close to heart1 ,enter that life whose joys shall never end1 ,perennial youth succeeding palsied age1 ,mansions of bliss for this poor house of clay1 ,labors of love instead of toil and tears4 ,he spoke1 and many to each other said3 ,why hear this babbler rail at sacred things-- ,our caste1 our faith1 our prayers and sacred hymns8 ,and strode away in proud and sovereign scorn2 ,while some with gladness heard his solemn words1 ,all soon forgotten in the giddy whirl ,of daily business1 daily joys and cares4 ,but some drank in his words with eager ears1 ,and asked him many questions1 lingering long1 ,and often sought him in the sacred grove ,to hear his burning words of living truth4 ,and day by day some noble ,brahman youth ,forsook his wealth1 forsook his home and friends1 ,and took the yellow robe and begging-bowl ,to ask for alms where all had given him place1 ,meeting with gentleness the rabble's gibes1 ,meeting with smiles the ,brahman's haughty scorn4 ,thus1 day by day1 this school of prophets grew1 ,beneath the banyan's columned1 vaulted shade1 ,all earnest learners at the master's feet1 ,until the city's busy1 bustling throng ,had come to recognize the yellow robe1 ,the poor to know its wearer as a friend1 ,the sick and suffering as a comforter1 ,while to the dying pilgrim's glazing eyes ,he seemed a messenger from higher worlds ,come down to raise his sinking spirit up ,and guide his trembling steps to realms of rest4 ,a year has passed1 and of this growing band ,sixty are rooted1 grounded in the faith1 ,willing to do whate'er the master bids1 ,ready to go where'er the master sends1 ,eager to join returning pilgrim-bands ,and bear the truth to ,india's farthest bounds4 ,with joy the master saw their burning zeal1 ,so free from selfishness1 so full of love1 ,and thought of all those blindly groping souls ,to whom these messengers would bear the light4 ,go1 said the master1 each a different way4 ,go teach the common brotherhood of man4 ,preach ,dharma1 preach the law of perfect love1 ,one law for high and low1 for rich and poor4 ,teach all to shun the cudgel and the sword1 ,and treat with kindness every living thing4 ,teach them to shun all theft and craft and greed1 ,all bitter thoughts1 and false and slanderous speech ,that severs friends and stirs up strife and hate4 ,revere your own1 revile no brother's faith4 ,the light you see is from ,nirvana's ,sun1 ,whose rising splendors promise perfect day4 ,the feeble rays that light your brother's path ,are from the selfsame ,sun1 by falsehoods hid1 ,the lingering shadows of the passing night4 ,chide none with ignorance1 but teach the truth ,gently1 as mothers guide their infants' steps1 ,lest your rude manners drive them from the way ,that leads to purity and peace and rest-- ,as some rude swain in some sequestered vale1 ,who thinks the visual line that girts him round ,the world's extreme1 would meet with sturdy blows ,one rudely charging him with ignorance1 ,yet gently led to some commanding height1 ,whence he could see the ,himalayan peaks1 ,the rolling hills and ,india's spreading plains1 ,with joyful wonder views the glorious scene4 ,pause not to break the idols of the past4 ,be guides and leaders1 not iconoclasts4 ,their broken idols shock their worshipers1 ,but led to light they soon forgotten lie4 ,one of their number1 young and strong and brave1 ,a merchant ere he took the yellow robe1 ,had crossed the frozen ,himalayan heights ,and found a race1 alien in tongue and blood1 ,gentle as children in their daily lives1 ,untaught as children in all sacred things1 ,living in wagons1 wandering o'er the steppes1 ,to-day all shepherds1 tending countless flocks1 ,to-morrow warriors1 cruel as the grave1 ,building huge monuments of human heads-- ,fearless1 resistless1 with the cyclone's speed ,leaving destruction in their bloody track1 ,who drove the ,aryan from his native plains ,to seek a home in ,europe's trackless wastes4 ,he yearned to seek these children of the wilds1 ,and teach them peace and gentleness and love4#aa ,but1 ,purna1 said the master1 they are fierce4 ,how will you meet their cruelty and wrath8 ,purna replied1 ,with gentleness and love4 ,but1 said the master1 they may beat and wound4 ,and ,i will give them thanks to spare my life4 ,but with slow tortures they may even kill4 ,i with my latest breath will bless their names1 ,so soon to free me from this prison-house ,and send me joyful to the other shore4 ,then1 said the master1 ,purna1 it is well4 ,armed with such patience1 seek these savage tribes4 ,thyself delivered1 free from karma's chains ,these souls enslaved2 thyself consoled1 console ,these restless children of the desert wastes2 ,thyself this peaceful haven having reached1 ,guide these poor wanderers to the other shore4 ,with many counsels1 many words of cheer1 ,he on their mission sent his brethren forth1 ,armed with a prophet's zeal1 a brother's love1 ,a martyr's courage1 and the ,christian's hope ,that when life's duties end1 its trials end1 ,and higher life awaits those faithful found4 ,the days pass on2 and now the rising sun ,looks down on bands of pilgrims homeward bound1 ,some moving north1 some south1 some east1 some west1 ,toward every part of ,india's vast expanse1 ,one clothed in orange robes with every band ,to guide their kindred on the upward road4 ,but ,purna joined the merchants he had led1 ,not moved by thirst for gain1 but love for man1 ,to seek the ,tartar on his native steppes4 ,meanwhile the master with diminished band ,crossing the ,ganges1 backward wends his way ,toward ,rajagriha1 and the vulture-peak ,where he had spent so many weary years1 ,whither he bade the brothers gather in#ab ,when summer's rains should bring the time for rest4 #a,varanassi is an old name of ,benares4 #b;,it can be no exaggeration to put the number of sacred edifices that burst upon ,buddha's view as he first saw the holy city1 at #a1jjj1 as ,phillips ,brooks puts the present number of such edifices in ,benares at #e1jjj4 #c;,in this marriage-feast three well-known incidents in the life of ,buddha and his teaching's on the three occasions are united4 #d;,for the best description of the banyan-tree1 see ,lady ,dufferin's account of the old tree at their out-of-town place in ,our ,viceroyal ,life in ,india1 and ,two ,years in ,ceylon1 by ,c4,f4 ,gordon ,cumming4 #e,those who saw the illuminations at ,chicago during the ,world's fair1 with lines of incandescent electric lights1 can get a good idea of the great illuminations in ,india with innumerable oil lamps1 and those who did not should read ,lady ,dufferin's charming description of them in ,our ,viceroyal ,life in ,india4 #f,lady ,dufferin says that the viceroy never wearied1 in his admiration of the graceful flowing robes of the ,east as contrasted with our stiff1 fashion-plate male attire4 #g,the good ,lord could not be everywhere and therefore made mothers4--,jewish saying from the ,talmud4 #h,max ,mueller calls attention to the remarkable fact that ,dyaus ,pittar1 the highest name of deity among the ancient ,hindoos1 is the exact equivalent of ,zeus ,pater among the ,greeks1 ,jupiter among the ,romans1 and of ,our ,father who art in the heavens in the divinely taught and holiest prayer of our own religion4 #i;,how any one can think that ,buddha did not believe in a ,supreme ,being in the face and light of the wonderful ,sutra1 or sermon of which1 the text is but a condensation or abstract1 is to me unaccountable4 ,it is equally strange that any one should suppose he regarded ,nirvana1 which is but another name for ,brahma ,loca1 as meaning annihilation4 ,to be sure he used the method afterwards adopted by ,socrates1 and now known as the ,socratic method1 of appealing to the unquestioned belief of the ,brahmans themselves as the foundation of his argument in support of that fundamental truth of all religions1 that the pure in heart alone can see ,god4 ,but to suppose that he was using arguments to convince them that he did not believe himself1 is a libel on one whose absolute truthfulness and sincerity admit of no question4 #aj;,he prayeth best who loveth best ,both man and bird and beast4 --,rime of the ,ancient ,mariner4 #aa,whether the ,tartars were the savage tribes to whom ,purna1 one of the sixty1 was sent1 may admit of question1 but it is certain that long before the ,christian era the whole country north of the ,himalayas was thoroughly ,buddhist1 and the unwearied missionaries of that great faith had penetrated so far west that they met ,alexander's army and boldly told him that war was wrong2 and they had penetrated east to the confines of ,china4 #ab,the large gatherings of the ,buddhist brotherhoods everywhere spoken of in the writings can only be accounted for on the supposition1 which is more than a supposition1 that they came to him in the rainy season1 when they could do but little in their missions2 and the substantial unity of the ,buddhist faith can only be accounted for on the supposition that his instructions were constantly renewed at these gatherings and their errors corrected4 ,,book ,,viii4 ,northward the noble ,purna took his way ,till ,india's fields and plains were lost to view1 ,then through the rugged foot-hills upward climbed1 ,and up a gorge by rocky ramparts walled1 ,through which a mighty torrent thundered down1 ,their treacherous way along the torrent's brink1 ,or up the giddy cliffs where one false step ,would plunge them headlong in the raging stream1 ,passing from cliff to cliff1 their bridge of ropes ,swung high above the dashing1 roaring waves4 ,at length they cross the frozen mountain-pass1 ,o'er wastes of snow by furious tempests swept1 ,and cross a desert where no bird or beast ,is ever seen1 and where their way is marked ,by bleaching bones strewn thick along their track4#a ,some perished by the way1 and some turned back1 ,while some of his companions persevered1 ,cheered on by ,purna's never-flagging zeal1 ,and by the master's words from ,purna's lips1 ,until they reached the outmost wandering tribes ,of that great race that he had come to save4 ,with joy received1 these wandering tribes their guides-- ,for love makes friends where selfishness breeds strife-- ,they soon are led to where their kindred dwell4 ,they saw the vanity of chasing wealth ,through hunger1 danger1 desolation1 death4 ,they felt a power sustaining ,purna's steps-- ,a power unseen yet ever hovering near-- ,they saw the truth of ,buddha's burning words ,that selfishness and greed drag down the soul1 ,while love can nerve the feeblest arm with strength1 ,and asked that ,purna take them as his aids4 ,but ere brave ,purna reached his journey's end1 ,near many hamlets1 many ,indian towns1 ,the moon1 high risen to mark the noon of night1 ,through many sacred fig-tree's rustling leaves#b ,sent trembling rays with trembling shadows mixed ,upon a noble youth in orange robes1 ,his alms-bowl by his side1 stretched out in sleep1 ,dreaming1 perchance1 of some ,benares maid1 ,perchance of home and joys so lately left4 ,meanwhile the master with his little band ,toward ,rajagriha backward wends his way1 ,some village tree their nightly resting--place1 ,until they reached the grove that skirts the base ,of that bold mountain called the vulture-peak1 ,through which the lotus-covered ,phalgu glides1 ,o'erarched with trees festooned with trailing vines1 ,while little streams leap down from rock to rock1 ,cooling the verdant slopes and fragrant glades1 ,and vines and shrubs and trees of varied bloom ,loaded the air with odors rich and sweet1 ,and where that sacred fig-tree spread its shade ,above the mound that held the gathered dust ,of those sage ,brahmans who had sought to aid ,the young prince struggling for a clearer light1 ,and where that banyan-tree for ages grew1 ,so long the home of those five noble youths1 ,now sundered far1 some tree when night may fall ,their resting-place1 their robe and bowl their all1 ,their only food chance gathered day by day1 ,preaching the common brotherhood of man1 ,teaching the law of universal love1 ,bearing the light to those in darkness sunk1 ,lending a helping hand to those in need1 ,teaching the strong that gentleness is great4 ,and through this grove where many noble souls ,were seeking higher life and clearer light1 ,he took his well-known way1 and reached his cave ,just as the day was fading into night1 ,and myriad stars spangled the azure vault1 ,and myriad lamps that through the darkness shone ,revealed the city that the night had veiled1 ,where soon their weary limbs were laid to rest2 ,but through the silent hour preceding day1 ,before the jungle-cock announced the dawn1 ,all roused from sleep in meditation sat4 ,but when the sun had set the east aglow1 ,and roused the birds to sing their matin-song's1 ,and roused the lowing herds to call their mates1 ,and roused a sleeping world to daily toil1 ,their matins chanted1 their ablutions made1 ,with bowl and staff in hand they took their way ,down to the city for their daily alms4 ,but earlier steps had brushed their dewy path4 ,from out the shepherd's cottage loving eyes ,had recognized the master's stately form1 ,and love-winged steps had borne the joyful news ,that he1 the poor man's advocate and friend1 ,the sweet-voiced messenger of peace and love1 ,the prince become a beggar for their sake1 ,so long expected1 now at last returns4 ,from door to door the joyful tidings spread1 ,and old and young from every cottage came4 ,the merchant left his wares without a guard2 ,the housewife left her pitcher at the well2 ,the loom was idle and the anvil still2 ,the money-changer told his coins alone1 ,while all the multitude went forth to meet ,their servant-master and their beggar-prince4 ,some brought the garden's choicest treasures forth1 ,some gathered lotuses from ,phalgu's stream1 ,some climbed the trees to pluck their varied bloom1 ,while children gathered every wayside flower ,to strew his way--their lover1 savior1 guide4 ,king ,bimbasara from his watch-tower saw ,the wild commotion and the moving throng1 ,and sent swift messengers to learn the cause4 ,with winged feet through vacant streets they flew1 ,and through the gates and out an avenue ,where aged trees that grew on either side1 ,their giant branches interlocked above1 ,made nature's gothic arch and densest shade1 ,while gentle breezes1 soft as if they came ,from devas' hovering wings1 rustle the leaves ,and strew the way with showers of falling bloom1 ,as if they1 voiceless1 felt the common joy4 ,and there they found the city's multitudes1 ,not as in tumult1 armed with clubs and staves1 ,and every weapon ready to their hands1 ,but stretching far on either side the way1 ,their flower-filled hands in humble reverence joined1 ,the only sound a murmur1 ,there he comes6 ,while every eye was turned in loving gaze ,upon a little band in yellow robes ,who now drew near from out the sacred grove4 ,the master passed with calm1 majestic grace1 ,stately and tall1 one arm and shoulder bare1 ,with head close shorn and bare unsandaled feet1 ,his noble brow1 the wonder of his age1 ,not clothed in terror like ,olympic ,jove's-- ,for love1 not anger1 beamed from out those eyes1 ,changing from clearest blue to softest black1 ,that seem to show unfathomed depths within1 ,with tears of holy pity glittering now ,for those poor souls come forth to honor him1 ,all sheep without a shepherd groping on4 ,the messengers with reverence let him pass1 ,then hastened back to tell the waiting king ,that he who dwelt so long upon the hill1 ,the prince who stopped the bloody sacrifice1 ,with other holy rishis had returned1 ,whom all received with reverence and joy4 ,the king with keenest pleasure heard their words4 ,that noble form1 that calm1 majestic face1 ,had never faded from his memory4 ,his words of wisdom1 words of tender love1 ,had often stayed his hands when raised to strike1 ,had often put a bridle on his tongue ,when harsh and bitter words leaped to his lips1 ,and checked those cruel acts of sudden wrath ,that stain the annals of the greatest kings1 ,until the people to each other said3 ,how mild and gentle our good king has grown6 ,and when he heard this prince had now returned1 ,in flower-embroidered purple robes arrayed1 ,with all the pomp and circumstance of state1 ,followed by those who ever wait on power1 ,he issued forth and climbed the rugged hill ,until he reached the cave where ,buddha sat1 ,calm and majestic as the rounded moon ,that moves serene along its heavenly path4 ,greeting each other with such royal grace ,as fits a prince greeting a brother prince1 ,the king inquired why he had left his home8 ,why he1 a ,chakravartin's only son1 ,had left his palace for a lonely cave1 ,wore coarsest cloth instead of royal robes1 ,and for a scepter bore a begging-bowl8 ,youth1 said the king1 with full and bounding pulse1 ,youth is the time for boon companionship1 ,the time for pleasure1 when all pleasures please2 ,manhood1 the time for gaining wealth and power2 ,but as the years creep on1 the step infirm1 ,the arm grown feeble and the hair turned gray1 ',tis time to mortify the five desires1 ,to give religion what of life is left1 ,and look to heaven when earth begins to pall4 ,i would not use my power to hold you here1 ,but offer half my kingdom for your aid ,to govern well and use my power aright4 ,the prince with gentle earnestness replied3 ,o king1 illustrious and world-renowned6 ,your noble offer through all coming time ,shall be remembered4 ,men will praise an act ,by likening it to ,bimbasara's gift4 ,you offer me the half of your domain4 ,i in return beseech you share with me ,better than wealth1 better than kingly power1 ,the peace and joy that follows lusts subdued4 ,wait not on age--for age brings feebleness-- ,but this great battle needs our utmost strength4 ,if you will come1 then welcome to our cave2 ,if not1 may wisdom all your actions guide4 ,ruling your empire in all righteousness1 ,preserve your country and protect her sons4 ,sadly ,i leave you1 great and gracious king1 ,but my work calls--a world that waits for light4 ,in yonder sacred grove three brothers dwell-- ,kasyapa1 ,gada1 ,nadi1 they are called2 ,three chosen vessels for the perfect law1 ,three chosen lamps to light a groping world1 ,who worship now the gross material fire ,which burns and wastes but fails to purify4 ,i go to tell them of ,nirvana's ,sun1 ,perennial source of that undying flame1 ,the fire of love1 consuming lust and hate ,as forest fires devour the crackling thorns1 ,until the soul is purified from sin1 ,and sorrow1 birth and death are left behind4 ,he found ,kasyapa as the setting sun ,was sinking low behind the western hills1 ,and somber shadows darkened ,phalgu's vale1 ,and asked a place to pass the gathering night4 ,here is a grotto1 cooled by trickling streams ,and overhanging shades1 fit place for sleep1 ,kasyapa said1 that ,i would gladly give2 ,but some fierce ,naga nightly haunts the spot ,whose poisoned breath no man can breathe and live4 ,fear not for me1 the ,buddha answered him1 ,for ,i this night will make my dwelling there4 ,do as you will1 ,kasyapa doubtful said1 ,but much ,i fear some dire catastrophe4 ,now mighty ,mara1 spirit of the air1 ,the prince of darkness1 roaming through the earth ,had found this grotto in the sacred grove1 ,and as a ,naga there kept nightly watch ,for those who sought deliverance from his power1 ,who1 when the master calmly took his seat1 ,belched forth a flood of poison1 foul and black1 ,and with hot1 burning vapors filled the cave4 ,but ,buddha sat unmoved1 serene and calm ,as ,brahma sits amid the kalpa fires ,that burn the worlds but cannot harm his heaven4 ,while ,mara1 knowing ,buddha1 fled amazed ,and left the ,naga coiled in ,buddha's bowl4#c ,kasyapa1 terrified1 beheld the flames1 ,and when the first faint rays of dawn appeared ,with all his fearful followers sought the cave1 ,and found the master not consumed to dust1 ,but full of peace1 aglow with perfect love4 ,kasyapa1 full of wonder1 joyful said3 ,i1 though a master1 have no power like this ,to conquer groveling lusts and evil beasts4 ,then ,buddha taught the source of real power1 ,the power of love to fortify the soul1 ,until ,kasyapa gathered all his stores1 ,his sacred vessels1 sacrificial robes1 ,and cast them in the ,phalgu passing near4 ,his brothers saw them floating down the stream1 ,and winged with fear made haste to learn the cause4 ,they too the master saw1 and heard his words1 ,and all convinced received the perfect law1 ,and with their followers joined the ,buddha's band4 ,the days pass on1 and in the bamboo-grove ,a great vihara as by magic rose1 ,built by the king for ,buddha's growing band1 ,a spacious hall where all might hear his words1 ,and little cells where each might take his rest1 ,a school and rest-house through the summer rains4 ,but soon the monsoons from the distant seas ,bring gathering clouds to veil the brazen sky1 ,while nimble lightnings dart their blinding flames1 ,and rolling thunders shake the trembling hills1 ,and heaven's downpourings drench the thirsty earth-- ,the master's seed-time when the people rest4 ,for now the sixty from their distant fields ,have gathered in to trim their lamps afresh ,and learn new wisdom from the master's lips-- ,all but brave ,purna on the ,tartar steppes ,where summer is the fittest time for toil1 ,when ,india's rains force ,india's sons to rest4 ,the new vihara and the bamboo-grove ,king ,bimbasara to the master gave1 ,where day by day he taught his growing school1 ,while rills1 grown torrents1 leap from rock to rock1 ,and ,phalgu's swollen stream sweeps down the vale4 ,that ,saraputra after called the ,great ,had seen these new-come youths in yellow robes ,passing from street to street to ask for alms1 ,receiving coarsest food with gentle thanks-- ,had seen them meet the poor and sick and old ,with kindly words and ever-helpful hands-- ,had seen them passing to the bamboo-grove ,joyful as bridegrooms soon to meet their brides4 ,he1 ,vashpa and ,asvajit met one day1 ,whom he had known beneath the banyan-tree1 ,two of the five who first received the law1 ,now clothed in yellow1 bearing begging-bowls1 ,and asked their doctrine1 who their master was1 ,that they seemed joyful1 while within the grove ,all seemed so solemn1 self-absorbed and sad4 ,they bade him come and hear the master's words1 ,and when their bowls were filled1 he followed them1 ,and heard the living truth from ,buddha's lips1 ,and said3 ,the sun of wisdom has arisen4 ,what further need of our poor flickering lamps8 ,and with ,mugallan joined the master's band4 ,and now five strangers from the ,tartar steppes1 ,strangers in form and features1 language1 dress1 ,guided by one as strange in dress as they1 ,weary and foot-sore1 passed within the gates ,of ,rajagriha1 while the rising sun ,was still concealed behind the vulture-peak1 ,a laughing-stock to all the idle crowd1 ,whom noisy children followed through the streets ,as thoughtless children follow what is strange1 ,until they met the master asking alms1 ,who with raised hand and gentle1 mild rebuke ,hushed into silence all their noisy mirth4 ,these are our brothers1 ,buddha mildly said4 ,weary and worn they come from distant lands1 ,and ask for kindness--not for mirth and jeers4 ,they knew at once that calm1 majestic face1 ,that voice as sweet as ,brahma's1 and those eyes ,beaming with tender1 all-embracing love1 ,of which1 while seated round their argol fires ,in their black tents1 brave ,purna loved to tell1 ,and bowed in worship at the master's feet4 ,he bade them rise1 and learned from whence they came1 ,and led them joyful to the bamboo-grove1 ,where some brought water from the nearest stream ,to bathe their festered feet and weary limbs1 ,while some brought food and others yellow robes-- ,fitter for ,india's heat than skins and furs-- ,all welcoming their new-found friends who came ,from distant lands1 o'er desert wastes and snows1 ,to see the master1 hear the perfect law1 ,and bring the message noble ,purna sent4 ,the months pass on2 the monsoons cease to blow1 ,the thunders cease to roll1 the rains to pour2 ,the earth1 refreshed1 is clothed with living green1 ,and flowers burst forth where all was parched and bare1 ,and busy toil succeeds long days of rest4 ,the time for mission work has come4 ,the brethren1 now to many hundreds grown1 ,where'er the master thought it best were sent4 ,the strongest and the bravest volunteered ,to answer ,purna's earnest call for help1 ,and clothed in fitting robes for piercing cold ,they scale the mountains1 pass the desert wastes1 ,their guide familiar with their terrors grown2 ,while some return to their expectant flocks1 ,and some are sent to kindred lately left1 ,and some to strangers dwelling near or far-- ,all bearing messages of peace and love-- ,until but few in yellow robes remain1 ,and single footfalls echo through that hall ,where large assemblies heard the master's words4 ,a few are left1 not yet confirmed in faith2 ,and those five brothers from the distant north ,remain to learn the sacred tongue and lore1 ,while ,saraputra and ,kasyapa stay ,to aid the master in his special work4 ,from far ,kosala1 rich ,sudata came1 ,friend of the destitute and orphans called4 ,in houses rich1 and rich in lands and gold1 ,but richer far in kind and gracious acts1 ,who stopped in ,rajagriha with a friend4 ,but when he learned a ,buddha dwelt so near1 ,and heard the gracious doctrine he proclaimed1 ,that very night he sought the bamboo-grove1 ,while roofs and towers were silvered by the moon1 ,and silent streets in deepest shadows lay1 ,and bamboo-plumes seemed waving silver sprays1 ,and on the ground the trembling shadows played4 ,humble in mind but great in gracious deeds1 ,of earnest purpose but of simple heart1 ,the master saw in him a vessel fit ,for righteousness1 and bade him stay and learn ,his rules of grace that bring ,nirvana's rest4 ,and first of all the gracious master said3 ,this restless nature and this selfish world ,is all a phantasy and empty show2 ,its life is lust1 its end is pain and death4 ,waste not your time in speculations deep ,of whence and why4 ,one thing we surely know3 ,each living thing must have a living cause1 ,and mind from mind and not from matter springs2 ,while love1 which like an endless golden chain4 ,binds all in one1 is love in every link1 ,up from the sparrow's nest1 the mother's heart1 ,through all the heavens to ,brahma's boundless love4 ,and lusts resisted1 daily duties done1 ,unite our lives to that unbroken chain ,which draws us up to heaven's eternal rest4 ,and through the night they earnestly communed1 ,until ,sudata saw the living truth ,in rising splendor1 like the morning sun1 ,and doubts and errors all are swept away ,as gathering clouds are swept by autumn's winds4 ,bowing in reverence1 ,sudata said3 ,i know the ,buddha never seeks repose1 ,but gladly toils to give to others rest4 ,o that my people1 now in darkness sunk1 ,might see the light and hear the master's words6 ,i dwell in ,king ,pasenit's distant realm-- ,a king renowned1 a country fair and rich-- ,and yearn to build a great vihara there4 ,the master1 knowing well ,sudata's heart ,and his unselfish charity1 replied3 ,some give in hope of greater gifts returned2 ,some give to gain a name for charity2 ,some give to gain the rest and joy of heaven1 ,some to escape the woes and pains of hell4 ,such giving is but selfishness and greed1 ,but he who gives without a selfish thought ,has entered on the noble eightfold path1 ,is purified from anger1 envy1 hate4 ,the bonds of pain and sorrow are unloosed2 ,the way to rest and final rescue found4 ,let your hands do what your kind heart desires4 ,hearing this answer1 he departs with joy1 ,and ,buddha with him ,saraputra sent4 ,arriving home1 he sought a pleasant spot1 ,and found the garden of ,pasenit's son1 ,and sought the prince1 seeking to buy the ground4 ,but he refused to sell1 yet said in jest3 ,cover the grove with gold1 the ground is yours4 ,forthwith ,sudata spread his yellow coin4 ,but ,gata said1 caught by his thoughtless jest3 ,spread not your gold--,i will not sell the ground4 ,not sell the ground8 ,sudata sharply said1 ,why then said you1 ',fill it with yellow gold'8 ,and both contending sought a magistrate4 ,but ,gata1 knowing well his earnestness1 ,asked why he sought the ground2 and when he learned1 ,he said3 ,keep half your gold2 the land is yours1 ,but mine the trees1 and jointly we will build ,a great vihara for the ,buddha's use4 ,the work begun was pressed both night and day2 ,lofty it rose1 in just proportions built1 ,fit for the palace of a mighty king4 ,the people saw this great vihara rise1 ,a stately palace for a foreign prince1 ,and said in wonder3 ,what strange thing is this8 ,our king to welcome thus a foreign king ,to new-made palaces1 and not with war ,and bloody spears and hands to new-made graves1 ,as was his father's wont in times gone by8 ,yet all went forth to meet this coming prince1 ,and see a foreign monarch's royal pomp1 ,but heard no trumpeting of elephants1 ,nor martial music1 nor the neigh of steeds1 ,but saw instead a little band draw near ,in yellow robes1 with dust and travel-stained2 ,but love1 that like a holy halo crowned ,that dusty leader's calm1 majestic brow1 ,hushed into silence every rising sneer4 ,and when ,sudata met this weary band1 ,and to the prince's garden led their way1 ,they followed on1 their hands in reverence joined1 ,to where the stately new vihara rose1 ,enbowered in giant trees of every kind ,that ,india's climate grows1 while winding streams ,along their flowery banks now quiet flow1 ,now leap from rocks1 now spread in shining pools ,with lotuses and lilies overspread1 ,while playing fountains with their falling spray ,spread grateful coolness1 and a blaze of bloom ,from myriad opening flowers perfumes the air1 ,and myriad birds that sought this peaceful spot ,burst forth in every sweet and varied song ,that ,india's fields and groves and gardens know4 ,and there ,sudata bowed on bended knee1 ,and from a golden pitcher water poured1 ,the sign and sealing of their gift of love ,of this vihara1 ,gatavana called1 ,a school and rest-house for the ,buddha's use1 ,and for the brotherhood throughout the world4 ,buddha received it with the fervent prayer ,that it might give the kingdom lasting peace4 ,unlike ,sudata's self1 ,sudata's king ,believed religion but a comely cloak ,to hide besetting sins from public view1 ,and sought the master in his new retreat ,to talk religion and to act a part1 ,and greetings ended1 said in solemn wise3 ,uneasy lies the head that wears a crown2 ,but my poor kingdom now is doubly blest ,in one whose teachings purify the soul ,and give the highest and the humblest rest1 ,as all are cleansed who bathe in ,rapti's stream4 ,but ,buddha saw through all this outer show ,his real purposes and inner life3 ,the love of pleasure blighting high resolve1 ,the love of money1 root of every ill1 ,that sends its poison fibers through the soul ,and saps its life and wastes its vital strength4 ,the ,tathagata only shows the way ,to purity and rest1 the master said4 ,there is a way to darkness out of light1 ,there is a way to light from deepest gloom4 ,they only gain the goal who keep the way4 ,harsh words and evil deeds to sorrow lead ,as sure as shadows on their substance wait4 ,for as we sow1 so also shall we reap4 ,boast not overmuch of kingly dignity4 ,a king most needs a kind and loving heart ,to love his subjects as an only son1 ,to aid--not injure1 comfort--not oppress1 ,their help1 protector1 father1 friend and guide4 ,such kings shall live beloved and die renowned1 ,whose works shall welcome them to heavenly rest4 ,the king1 convicted1 heard his solemn words ,that like an arrow pierced his inmost life4 ,to him religion ceased to be a show ,of chants and incense1 empty forms and creeds1 ,but stood a living presence in his way ,to check his blind and headlong downward course1 ,and lead him to the noble eightfold path1 ,that day by day and step by step shall lead ,to purity and peace and heavenly rest4 ,kapilavastu's king1 ,suddhodana1 ,his step grown feeble1 snowy white his hair1 ,by cares oppressed and sick with hope deferred1 ,for eight long years had waited for his son4 ,but sweet ,yasodhara1 in widow's weeds1 ,her love by sorrow only purified ,as fire refines the gold by dross debased1 ,though tender memories bring unbidden tears1 ,wasted no time in morbid1 selfish grief1 ,but sought in care for others her own cure4 ,both son and daughter to the aged king1 ,she aids with counsels1 soothes with tender care4 ,father and mother to her little son1 ,she lavishes on him a double love4 ,and oft on mercy's missions going forth1 ,shunning the pomp and show of royal state1 ,leading ,rahula1 prattling by her side1 ,the people saw her pass with swelling hearts1 ,as if an angel clothed in human form4 ,and now strange rumors reach the public ear1 ,by home-bound pilgrims from ,benares brought ,and merchantmen from ,rajagriha come1 ,that there a holy rishi had appeared ,whom all believed a very living ,buddh1 ,while kings and peoples followed after him4 ,these rumors reached the sweet ,yasodhara1 ,and stirred these musings in her watchful heart3 ,stately and tall they say this rishi is1 ,gentle to old and young1 to rich and poor1 ,and filled with love for every living thing4 ,but who so gentle1 stately1 tall and grand ,as my ,siddartha8 ,who so full of love8 ,and he has found the light ,siddartha sought6 ,it must be he--my own1 my best beloved6 ,and surely he will hither come1 and bring ,to his poor people1 now in darkness sunk1 ,that living light he left his home to seek4 ,as the same sun that makes the cedars grow ,and sends their vital force through giant oaks1 ,clothes fields with green and decks the wayside flower1 ,and crowns the autumn with its golden fruits1 ,so that same love which swept through ,buddha's soul ,and drove him from his home to seek and save1 ,warmed into brighter glow each lesser love ,of home and people1 father1 wife and child1#d ,and often through those long and troubled years ,he felt a burning longing to return4 ,and now1 when summer rains had ceased to fall1 ,and his disciples were again1 sent forth1 ,both love and duty with united voice ,bade him revisit his beloved home1 ,and ,saraputra and ,kasyapa joined ,the master wending on his homeward way1 ,while light-winged rumor bore ,yasodhara ,this joyful news3 ,the holy rishi comes4 ,without the southern gate a garden lay1 ,lumbini called1 by playing fountains cooled1 ,with shaded walks winding by banks of flowers1 ,whose mingled odors load each passing breeze4 ,thither ,yasodhara was wont to go1 ,for there her lord and dearest love was born1 ,and there they passed full many happy days4 ,the southern road skirted this garden's wall1 ,while on the other side were suburb huts ,where toiling poor folk and the base-born dwell4 ,and near this wall a bright pavilion rose1 ,whence she could see each passer by the way4 ,one morning1 after days of patient watch1 ,she saw approach along this dusty road ,three seeming pilgrims1 clothed in yellow robes1 ,presenting at each humble door their bowls ,for such poor food as these poor folk could give4 ,as they drew near1 a growing multitude1 ,from every cottage swelled1 followed their steps1 ,gazing with awe upon the leader's face1 ,while each to his companion wondering said3 ,who ever saw a rishi such as this1 ,who calls us brothers1 whom the ,brahmans scorn8 ,but sweet ,yasodhara1 with love's quick sight1 ,knew him she waited for1 and forth she rushed1 ,crying3 ,siddartha1 ,o my love6 my lord6 ,and prostrate in the dust she clasped his feet4 ,he gently raised and pressed her to his heart ,in one most tender1 loving1 long embrace4 ,by that embrace her every heartache cured1 ,she calmly said3 ,give me a humble part ,in your great work1 for though my hands are weak ,my heart is strong1 and my weak hands can bear ,the cooling cup to fever's burning lips2 ,my mother's heart has more than room enough ,for many outcasts1 many helpless waifs4 ,and there in presence of that base-born throng1 ,who gazed with tears and wonder on the scene1 ,and in a higher presence1 who can doubt ,he made her first of that great sisterhood1 ,since through the ages known in every land1 ,who gently raise the dying soldier's head1 ,where cruel war is mangling human limbs2 ,who smooth the pillow1 bathe the burning brow ,of sick and helpless strangers taken in2 ,whose tender care has made the orphans' home1 ,for those poor waifs who know no mother's love4 ,then toward the palace they together went ,to their ,rahula and the aged king1 ,while streets were lined and doors and windows filled ,with eager gazers at the prince returned ,in coarsest robes1 with closely shaven head1 ,returned a ,buddha who went forth a prince4 ,through all these troubled1 weary1 waiting years1 ,the king still hoped to see his son return ,in royal state1 with kings for waiting-men1 ,to rule a willing world as king of kings4 ,but now that son enters his palace-gates ,in coarsest beggar-garb1 his alms-bowl filled ,with ,sudras' leavings for his daily food4 ,the king with mingled grief and anger said3 ,is this the end of all our cherished hopes1 ,the answer to such lofty prophecies1 ,to see the heir of many mighty king's ,enter his kingdom like a beggar-tramp8 ,this the return for all the patient love ,of sweet ,yasodhara1 and this the way ,to teach his duty to your royal son8 ,the prince with reverence kissed his father's hand1 ,bent loving eyes upon his troubled brow ,that banished all his bitterness and said3 ,how hard it is to give up cherished hopes ,i know full well4 ,i know a father's love4 ,your love for me ,i for ,rahula feel1 ,and who can better know that deepest love ,whose tendrils round my very heartstrings twine6 ,but crores of millions1 with an equal love1 ,fathers and mothers1 children1 husbands1 wives1 ,in doubt and darkness groping blindly on1 ,cry out for help4 ,not lack of love for you1 ,or my ,rahula or ,yasodhara1 ,but love for them drove me to leave my home4 ,the greatest kingdoms are like ocean's foam1 ,a moment white upon the crested wave4 ,the longest life is but a passing dream1 ,whose changing scenes but fill a moment's space4 ,but these poor souls shall live in joy or woe ,while nations rise and fall and kalpas pass1 ,and this proud city crumbles to decay ,till antiquarians search its site in vain1 ,and beasts shall burrow where this palace stands4 ,not for the pleasures of a passing day1 ,like shadows flitting ere you point their place1 ,not for the transient glories of a king1 ,now clothed in scarlet but to-morrow dust1 ,can ,i forget those loving1 living souls1 ,groping in darkness1 vainly asking help4 ,and then he showed the noble eightfold path ,from life's low levels to ,nirvana's heights1 ,while king and people on the master gazed1 ,whose face1 beaming with pure1 unselfish love1 ,transfigured seemed2 and many noble youth1 ,and chief ,ananda1 the ,beloved called1 ,forsook their gay companions and the round ,of youthful sports1 and joined the master's band4 ,and as he spoke1 crores more than mortals saw ,gathered to hear1 and ,king ,suddhodana ,and sweet ,yasodhara entered the path4 #a;,i have substantially followed the description of this fearful route given by ,fa ,hian1 the ,chinese ,buddhist pilgrim1 who passed by it from ,china to ,india4 #b,like the aspen1 the leaf of the sacred fig-tree is always trembling4--,two ,years in ,ceylon1 ,cumming4 #c,this is ,asvaghosha's version1 but the ,sanchi inscriptions make the ,naga or cobra rise up behind ,buddha and extend its hood over his head as a shelter4 #d,some ,buddhists teach that ,buddha had conquered all human affections1 and even enter into apologies for a show of affection for his wife1 one of the most elaborate of which ,arnold1 in the ,light of ,asia1 puts into his own mouth2 but this is no more like the teachings of ,buddha than the doctrine of infant damnation is like the teachings of ,him who said3 ,suffer the little children to come unto me1 and forbid them not2 for of such is the kingdom of ,god4