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diff --git a/23245-h/23245-h.htm b/23245-h/23245-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dfc74e0 --- /dev/null +++ b/23245-h/23245-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4451 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan, by Toru Dutt + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + + h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + h3 {text-align: center; clear: both; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: 1.2em;} + + hr {width: 33%; margin: 2em auto; clear: both;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .td3 {text-align: right; vertical-align: bottom;} + .td2 {text-align: left; padding-left: 1em; padding-right: 5em;} + .td1 {text-align: right; font-size: smaller;} + .td4 {text-align: center; font-size: larger; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: .5em;} + .td5 {text-align: left;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 94%; + font-size: smaller; + font-style: normal; + text-align: right;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .rgt {text-align: right;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: 1em auto; text-align: center;} + + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: 0.25em; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .trans1 {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + + img {border: none} + + a:link {text-decoration:none;} + a:visited {text-decoration:none;} + + .cpoem {margin: 0 auto;} + + .hd1 {text-align: center; font-size: small; margin-top: 1.5em; word-spacing: .3em;} + .hd2 {text-align: center; margin-top: 1.5em; word-spacing: .5em;} + .hd3 {text-align: center; margin-top: 3em; font-style: italic;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan, by Toru Dutt + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan + +Author: Toru Dutt + +Contributor: Edmund Gosse + +Release Date: October 29, 2007 [EBook #23245] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANCIENT BALLADS AND LEGENDS *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h1><i>ANCIENT BALLADS</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>AND LEGENDS</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;"><i>OF HINDUSTAN</i></span></h1> + +<h2><small><small>BY<br /><br /></small></small> +TORU DUTT</h2> + +<p class="hd1">AUTHOR OF "A SHEAF GLEANED IN FRENCH FIELDS," AND<br /> +"LE JOURNAL DE MADEMOISELLE D'ARVERS."</p> + + +<p class="hd2">WITH AN INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR<br /> +<big>BY EDMUND GOSSE.</big></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 134px;"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="134" height="150" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="hd3">LONDON<br /> +KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH & CO.<br /> +MDCCCLXXXV</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I never heard the old song of Percie and Douglas, +that I found not my heart moved, more than with a +trumpet: and yet it is sung but by some blinde crowder, +with no rougher voice, than rude style."</p> + +<p class="rgt"><span class="smcap">Sir Philip Sidney.</span></p></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td class="td1" colspan="3">Page</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">I.</td><td class="td2">Savitri</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">II.</td><td class="td2">Lakshman</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">III.</td><td class="td2">Jogadhya Uma</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">IV.</td><td class="td2">The Royal Ascetic and the Hind</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">V.</td><td class="td2">Dhruva</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">VI.</td><td class="td2">Buttoo</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">VII.</td><td class="td2">Sindhu</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">VIII.</td><td class="td2">Prehlad</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td1">IX.</td><td class="td2">Sîta</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td4" colspan="3">MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">Near Hastings</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">France—1870</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">The Tree of Life</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">On the Fly Leaf of Erckmann-Chatrian's<br /> +novel entitled <i>Madame Thérèse</i></td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">Sonnet—Baugmaree</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">Sonnet—The Lotus</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="td5" colspan="2">Our Casuarina Tree</td><td class="td3"><a href="#Page_137">137</a></td></tr> + +</table></div> + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> +<h2>TORU DUTT.</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.</h3> + + +<p>If Toru Dutt were alive, she would still be +younger than any recognized European writer, +and yet her fame, which is already considerable, +has been entirely posthumous. Within +the brief space of four years which now +divides us from the date of her decease, her +genius has been revealed to the world under +many phases, and has been recognized +throughout France and England. Her name, +at least, is no longer unfamiliar in the ear +of any well-read man or woman. But at +the hour of her death she had published but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +one book, and that book had found but two +reviewers in Europe. One of these, M. +André Theuriet, the well-known poet and +novelist, gave the "Sheaf gleaned in French +Fields" adequate praise in the "Revue +des Deux Mondes;" but the other, the +writer of the present notice, has a melancholy +satisfaction in having been a little +earlier still in sounding the only note of +welcome which reached the dying poetess +from England. It was while Professor W. +Minto was editor of the "Examiner," +that one day in August, 1876, in the very +heart of the dead season for books, I happened +to be in the office of that newspaper, +and was upbraiding the whole body of +publishers for issuing no books worth reviewing. +At that moment the postman brought +in a thin and sallow packet with a wonderful +Indian postmark on it, and containing a most +unattractive orange pamphlet of verse, printed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span> +at Bhowanipore, and entitled "A Sheaf +gleaned in French Fields, by Toru Dutt." +This shabby little book of some two hundred +pages, without preface or introduction, seemed +specially destined by its particular providence +to find its way hastily into the waste-paper +basket. I remember that Mr. Minto thrust it +into my unwilling hands, and said "There! +see whether you can't make something of +that." A hopeless volume it seemed, with its +queer type, published at Bhowanipore, printed +at the Saptahiksambad Press! But when at +last I took it out of my pocket, what was my +surprise and almost rapture to open at such +verse as this:—</p> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still barred thy doors! The far east glows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The morning wind blows fresh and free<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should not the hour that wakes the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Awaken also thee?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All look for thee, Love, Light, and Song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light in the sky deep red above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Song, in the lark of pinions strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And in my heart, true Love.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Apart we miss our nature's goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why strive to cheat our destinies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was not my love made for thy soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy beauty for mine eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">No longer sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Oh, listen now!<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I wait and weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But where art thou?<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>When poetry is as good as this it does not +much matter whether Rouveyre prints it upon +Whatman paper, or whether it steals to light +in blurred type from some press in Bhowanipore.</p> + +<p>Toru Dutt was the youngest of the three +children of a high-caste Hindu couple in +Bengal. Her father, who survives them all, +the Baboo Govin Chunder Dutt, is himself +distinguished among his countrymen for the +width of his views and the vigour of his intelligence. +His only son, Abju, died in 1865, at +the age of fourteen, and left his two younger +sisters to console their parents. Aru, the +elder daughter, born in 1854, was eighteen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> +months senior to Toru, the subject of this +memoir, who was born in Calcutta on the +4th of March, 1856. With the exception of +one year's visit to Bombay, the childhood of +these girls was spent in Calcutta, at their +father's garden-house. In a poem now printed +for the first time, Toru refers to the scene of +her earliest memories, the circling wilderness +of foliage, the shining tank with the round +leaves of the lilies, the murmuring dusk under +the vast branches of the central casuarina-tree. +Here, in a mystical retirement more +irksome to an European in fancy than to an +Oriental in reality, the brain of this wonderful +child was moulded. She was pure Hindu, +full of the typical qualities of her race and +blood, and, as the present volume shows us +for the first time, preserving to the last her +appreciation of the poetic side of her ancient +religion, though faith itself in Vishnu and +Siva had been cast aside with childish things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> +and been replaced by a purer faith. Her +mother fed her imagination with the old +songs and legends of their people, stories +which it was the last labour of her life to +weave into English verse; but it would seem +that the marvellous faculties of Toru's mind +still slumbered, when, in her thirteenth year, +her father decided to take his daughters to +Europe to learn English and French. To +the end of her days Toru was a better +French than English scholar. She loved +France best, she knew its literature best, she +wrote its language with more perfect elegance. +The Dutts arrived in Europe at the close of +1869, and the girls went to school, for the first +and last time, at a French pension. They +did not remain there very many months; +their father took them to Italy and England +with him, and finally they attended for a short +time, but with great zeal and application, the +lectures for women at Cambridge. In November,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span> +1873, they went back again to Bengal, +and the four remaining years of Toru's life +were spent in the old garden-house at Calcutta, +in a feverish dream of intellectual effort +and imaginative production. When we consider +what she achieved in these forty-five +months of seclusion, it is impossible to +wonder that the frail and hectic body succumbed +under so excessive a strain.</p> + +<p>She brought with her from Europe a store +of knowledge that would have sufficed to make +an English or French girl seem learned, but +which in her case was simply miraculous. +Immediately on her return she began to study +Sanskrit with the same intense application +which she gave to all her work, and mastering +the language with extraordinary swiftness, +she plunged into its mysterious literature. +But she was born to write, and despairing of +an audience in her own language, she began +to adopt ours as a medium for her thought.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span> +Her first essay, published when she was +eighteen, was a monograph, in the "Bengal +Magazine," on Leconte de Lisle, a writer with +whom she had a sympathy which is very easy +to comprehend. The austere poet of "La Mort +de Valmiki" was, obviously, a figure to whom +the poet of "Sindhu" must needs be attracted +on approaching European literature. This +study, which was illustrated by translations +into English verse, was followed by another +on Joséphin Soulary, in whom she saw more +than her maturer judgment might have justified. +There is something very interesting and +now, alas! still more pathetic in these sturdy +and workmanlike essays in unaided criticism. +Still more solitary her work became, in July, +1874, when her only sister, Aru, died, at the +age of twenty. She seems to have been no less +amiable than her sister, and if gifted with less +originality and a less forcible ambition, to +have been finely accomplished. Both sisters<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> +were well-trained musicians, with full contralto +voices, and Aru had a faculty for design +which promised well. The romance of "Mlle. +D'Arvers" was originally projected for Aru to +illustrate, but no page of this book did Aru +ever see.</p> + +<p>In 1876, as we have said, appeared that +obscure first volume at Bhowanipore. The +"Sheaf gleaned in French Fields" is certainly +the most imperfect of Toru's writings, but it +is not the least interesting. It is a wonderful +mixture of strength and weakness, of genius +overriding great obstacles and of talent succumbing +to ignorance and inexperience. That +it should have been performed at all is so +extraordinary that we forget to be surprised +at its inequality. The English verse is sometimes +exquisite; at other times the rules of +our prosody are absolutely ignored, and it is +obvious that the Hindu poetess was chanting +to herself a music that is discord in an English<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span> +ear. The notes are no less curious, and to a +stranger no less bewildering. Nothing could +be more naïve than the writer's ignorance at +some points, or more startling than her learning +at others. On the whole, the attainment +of the book was simply astounding. It consisted +of a selection of translations from nearly +one hundred French poets, chosen by the +poetess herself on a principle of her own +which gradually dawned upon the careful +reader. She eschewed the Classicist writers +as though they had never existed. For her +André Chenier was the next name in chronological +order after Du Bartas. Occasionally +she showed a profundity of research that +would have done no discredit to Mr. Saintsbury +or "le doux Assellineau." She was +ready to pronounce an opinion on Napol le +Pyrénéan or to detect a plagiarism in Baudelaire. +But she thought that Alexander Smith +was still alive, and she was curiously vague<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span> +about the career of Saint Beuve. This inequality +of equipment was a thing inevitable +to her isolation, and hardly worth recording, +except to show how laborious her mind was, +and how quick to make the best of small +resources.</p> + +<p>We have already seen that the "Sheaf +gleaned in French Fields" attracted the very +minimum of attention in England. In France +it was talked about a little more. M. Garcin +de Tassy, the famous Orientalist, who scarcely +survived Toru by twelve months, spoke of it +to Mlle. Clarisse Bader, author of a somewhat +remarkable book on the position of women +in ancient Indian society. Almost simultaneously +this volume fell into the hands of +Toru, and she was moved to translate it into +English, for the use of Hindus less instructed +than herself. In January, 1877, she accordingly +wrote to Mlle. Bader requesting her authorization, +and received a prompt and kind reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span> +On the 18th of March Toru wrote again to +this, her solitary correspondent in the world +of European literature, and her letter, which +has been preserved, shows that she had already +descended into the valley of the shadow of +death:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Ma constitution n'est pas forte; j'ai contracté une toux +opiniâtre, il y a plus de deux ans, qui ne me quitte point. +Cependant j'espère mettre la main à l'œuvre bientôt. Je +ne peux dire, mademoiselle, combien votre affection,—car +vous les aimez, votre livre et votre lettre en témoignent +assez,—pour mes compatriotes et mon pays me touche; et je +suis fière de pouvoir le dire que les héroines de nos grandes +épopées sont dignes de tout honneur et de tout amour. Y a-ti-il +d'héroine plus touchante, plus aimable que Sîta? Je ne +le crois pas. <i>Quand j'entends ma mère chanter, le soir, +les vieux chants de notre pays, je pleure presque toujours.</i> +La plainte de Sîta, quand, bannie pour la séconde fois, elle +erre dans la vaste forêt, seule, le désespoir et l'effroi dans +l'âme, est si pathétique qu'il n'y a personne, je crois, qui +puisse l'entendre sans verser des larmes. Je vous envois +sous ce pli deux petites traductions du Sanscrit, cette belle +langue antique. Malheureusement j'ai été obligée de faire +cesser mes traductions de Sanscrit, il y a six mois. Ma +santé ne me permet pas de les continuer.</p></div> + +<p>These simple and pathetic words, in which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span> +the dying poetess pours out her heart to the +one friend she had, and that one gained too +late, seem as touching and as beautiful as any +strain of Marceline Valmore's immortal verse. +In English poetry I do not remember anything +that exactly parallels their resigned melancholy. +Before the month of March was over, +Toru had taken to her bed. Unable to write, +she continued to read, strewing her sick-room +with the latest European books, and entering +with interest into the questions raised by the +Société Asiatique of Paris in its printed Transactions. +On the 30th of July she wrote her +last letter to Mlle. Clarisse Bader, and a month +later, on the 30th of August, 1877, at the age +of twenty-one years, six months, and twenty-six +days, she breathed her last in her father's +house in Maniktollah Street, Calcutta.</p> + +<p>In the first distraction of grief it seemed as +though her unequalled promise had been +entirely blighted, and as though she would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span> +remembered only by her single book. But +as her father examined her papers, one completed +work after another revealed itself. +First a selection from the sonnets of the +Comte de Grammont, translated into English, +turned up, and was printed in a Calcutta +magazine; then some fragments of an English +story, which were printed in another +Calcutta magazine. Much more important, +however, than any of these was a complete +romance, written in French, being the identical +story for which her sister Aru had proposed +to make the illustrations. In the meantime +Toru was no sooner dead than she began +to be famous. In May, 1878, there appeared +a second edition of the "Sheaf gleaned in +French Fields," with a touching sketch of her +death, by her father; and in 1879 was published, +under the editorial care of Mlle. +Clarisse Bader, the romance of "Le Journal +de Mlle. D'Arvers," forming a handsome<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span> +volume of 259 pages. This book, begun, as +it appears, before the family returned from +Europe, and finished nobody knows when, is +an attempt to describe scenes from modern +French society, but it is less interesting as an +experiment of the fancy, than as a revelation +of the mind of a young Hindu woman of +genius. The story is simple, clearly told, and +interesting; the studies of character have +nothing French about them, but they are full +of vigour and originality. The description of +the hero is most characteristically Indian.—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>Il est beau en effet. Sa taille est haute, mais quelques-uns +la trouveraient mince, sa chevelure noire est bouclée et +tombe jusqu'à la nuque; ses yeux noirs sont profonds et +bien fendus, le front est noble; la lèvre supérieure, couverte +par une moustache naissante et noire, est parfaitement +modelée; son menton a quelque chose de sévère; son teint +est d'un blanc presque féminin, ce qui dénote sa haute +naissance.</p></div> + +<p>In this description we seem to recognize +some Surya or Soma of Hindu mythology,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span> +and the final touch, meaningless as applied +to an European, reminds us that in India +whiteness of skin has always been a sign of +aristocratic birth, from the days when it +originally distinguished the conquering Aryas +from the indigenous race of the Dasyous.</p> + +<p>As a literary composition "Mlle. D'Arvers" +deserves high commendation. It deals with +the ungovernable passion of two brothers +for one placid and beautiful girl, a passion +which leads to fratricide and madness. +That it is a very melancholy and tragical +story is obvious from this brief sketch of its +contents, but it is remarkable for coherence +and self-restraint no less than for vigour of +treatment. Toru Dutt never sinks to melodrama +in the course of her extraordinary tale, +and the wonder is that she is not more often +fantastic and unreal.</p> + +<p>But we believe that the original English +poems, which we present to the public for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span> +the first time to-day, will be ultimately found +to constitute Toru's chief legacy to posterity. +These ballads form the last and most matured +of her writings, and were left so far fragmentary +at her death that the fourth and fifth in +her projected series of nine were not to be +discovered in any form among her papers. +It is probable that she had not even commenced +them. Her father, therefore, to give +a certain continuity to the series, has filled +up these blanks with two stories from the +"Vishnupurana," which originally appeared +respectively in the "Calcutta Review" and +in the "Bengal Magazine." These are interesting, +but a little rude in form, and they +have not the same peculiar value as the +rhymed octo-syllabic ballads. In these +last we see Toru no longer attempting vainly, +though heroically, to compete with European +literature on its own ground, but turning to +the legends of her own race and country for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</a></span> +inspiration. No modern Oriental has given +us so strange an insight into the conscience +of the Asiatic as is presented in the stories of +"Prehlad" and of "Savitri," or so quaint a +piece of religious fancy as the ballad of +"Jogadhya Uma." The poetess seems in +these verses to be chanting to herself those +songs of her mother's race to which she +always turned with tears of pleasure. They +breathe a Vedic solemnity and simplicity of +temper, and are singularly devoid of that +littleness and frivolity which seem, if we +may judge by a slight experience, to be the +bane of modern India.</p> + +<p>As to the merely technical character of +these poems, it may be suggested that in +spite of much in them that is rough and +inchoate, they show that Toru was advancing +in her mastery of English verse. Such a +stanza as this, selected out of many no less +skilful, could hardly be recognized as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</a></span> +work of one by whom the language was a late +acquirement:—</p> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What glorious trees! The sombre saul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On which the eye delights to rest,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The betel-nut, a pillar tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With feathery branches for a crest,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light-leaved tamarind spreading wide,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pale faint-scented bitter neem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seemul, gorgeous as a bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With flowers that have the ruby's gleam.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>In other passages, of course, the text reads +like a translation from some stirring ballad, +and we feel that it gives but a faint and +discordant echo of the music welling in +Toru's brain. For it must frankly be confessed +that in the brief May-day of her +existence she had not time to master our +language as Blanco White did, or as Chamisso +mastered German. To the end of her days, +fluent and graceful as she was, she was not +entirely conversant with English, especially +with the colloquial turns of modern speech.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[xxvi]</a></span> +Often a very fine thought is spoiled for +hypercritical ears by the queer turn of expression +which she has innocently given to it. +These faults are found to a much smaller +degree in her miscellaneous poems. Her +sonnets, here printed for the first time, seem +to me to be of great beauty, and her longer +piece entitled "Our Casuarina Tree," needs +no apology for its rich and mellifluous +numbers.</p> + +<p>It is difficult to exaggerate when we try to +estimate what we have lost in the premature +death of Toru Dutt. Literature has no +honours which need have been beyond the +grasp of a girl who at the age of twenty-one, +and in languages separated from her own by +so deep a chasm, had produced so much of +lasting worth. And her courage and fortitude +were worthy of her intelligence. Among +"last words" of celebrated people, that which +her father has recorded, "It is only the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</a></span> +physical pain that makes me cry," is not the +least remarkable, or the least significant of +strong character. It was to a native of our +island, and to one ten years senior to Toru, +to whom it was said, in words more appropriate, +surely, to her than to Oldham,</p> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 22em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy generous fruits, though gathered ere their prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still showed a quickness, and maturing time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mellows what we write to the dull sweets of Rime.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>That mellow sweetness was all that Toru +lacked to perfect her as an English poet, and +of no other Oriental who has ever lived can +the same be said. When the history of the +literature of our country comes to be written, +there is sure to be a page in it dedicated +to this fragile exotic blossom of song.</p> + +<p class="rgt"><span class="smcap">Edmund W. Gosse.</span></p> + +<p>1881.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2 style="margin-bottom: 3em;"><big>ANCIENT BALLADS OF<br />HINDUSTAN.</big></h2> + + + + +<h2>I.</h2> + +<h2>SAVITRI.</h2> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Savitri was the only child<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Madra's wise and mighty king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stern warriors, when they saw her, smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As mountains smile to see the spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair as a lotus when the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kisses its opening petals red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After sweet showers in sultry June!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With happier heart, and lighter tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chance strangers, having met her, past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And often would they turn the head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lingering second look to cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bless the vision ere it fled.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What was her own peculiar charm?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soft black eyes, the raven hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curving neck, the rounded arm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All these are common everywhere.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her charm was this—upon her face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childlike and innocent and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man with thought impure or base<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could ever look;—the glory there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sweet simplicity and grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abashed the boldest; but the good<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's purity there loved to trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mirrored in dawning womanhood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In those far-off primeval days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair India's daughters were not pent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In closed zenanas. On her ways<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Savitri at her pleasure went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whither she chose,—and hour by hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With young companions of her age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She roamed the woods for fruit or flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or loitered in some hermitage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For to the Munis gray and old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her presence was as sunshine glad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They taught her wonders manifold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gave her of the best they had.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her father let her have her way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all things, whether high or low;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He feared no harm; he knew no ill<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could touch a nature pure as snow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long childless, as a priceless boon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had obtained this child at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By prayers, made morning, night, and noon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With many a vigil, many a fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would Shiva his own gift recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mar its perfect beauty ever?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, he had faith,—he gave her all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She wished, and feared and doubted never.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so she wandered where she pleased<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In boyish freedom. Happy time!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No small vexations ever teased,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor crushing sorrows dimmed her prime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One care alone, her father felt—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where should he find a fitting mate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one so pure?—His thoughts long dwelt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On this as with his queen he sate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah, whom, dear wife, should we select?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Leave it to God," she answering cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Savitri, may herself elect<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some day, her future lord and guide."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Months passed, and lo, one summer morn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As to the hermitage she went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through smiling fields of waving corn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She saw some youths on sport intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sons of the hermits, and their peers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And one among them tall and lithe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Royal in port,—on whom the years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Consenting, shed a grace so blithe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So frank and noble, that the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was loth to quit that sun-browned face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She looked and looked,—then gave a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slackened suddenly her pace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What was the meaning—was it love?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love at first sight, as poets sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is then no fiction? Heaven above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is witness, that the heart its king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finds often like a lightning flash;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We play,—we jest,—we have no care,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When hark a step,—there comes no crash,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But life, or silent slow despair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their eyes just met,—Savitri past<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into the friendly Muni's hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart-rose opened had at last—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Opened no flower can ever shut.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In converse with the gray-haired sage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She learnt the story of the youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His name and place and parentage—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of royal race he was in truth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Satyavan was he hight,—his sire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dyoumatsen had been Salva's king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But old and blind, opponents dire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had gathered round him in a ring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snatched the sceptre from his hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now,—with his queen and only son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He lived a hermit in the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gentler hermit was there none.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With many tears was said and heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The story,—and with praise sincere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Prince Satyavan; every word<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sent up a flush on cheek and ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unnoticed. Hark! The bells remind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis time to go,—she went away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving her virgin heart behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And richer for the loss. A ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shot down from heaven, appeared to tinge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All objects with supernal light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thatches had a rainbow fringe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cornfields looked more green and bright.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Savitri's first care was to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her mother all her feelings new;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The queen her own fears to dispel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the king's private chamber flew.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now what is it, my gentle queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That makes thee hurry in this wise?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She told him, smiles and tears between,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All she had heard; the king with sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sadly replied:—"I fear me much!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whence is his race and what his creed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not knowing aught, can we in such<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A matter delicate, proceed?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As if the king's doubts to allay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came Narad Muni to the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few days after. Old and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All loved to see the gossip's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Brahma's son,—adored of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long absent, doubly welcome he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the monarch, hoping then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By his assistance, clear to see.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No god in heaven, nor king on earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Narad knew his history,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun's, the moon's, the planets' birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was not to him a mystery.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now welcome, welcome, dear old friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All hail, and welcome once again!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greeting had not reached its end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When glided like a music-strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Savitri's presence through the room.—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"And who is this bright creature, say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose radiance lights the chamber's gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is she an Apsara or fay?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No son thy servant hath, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This is my one,—my only child;"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And married?"—"No."—"The seasons pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make haste, O king,"—he said, and smiled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That is the very theme, O sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In which thy wisdom ripe I need;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seen hath she at the hermitage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A youth to whom in very deed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart inclines."—"And who is he?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"My daughter, tell his name and race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak as to men who best love thee."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She turned to them her modest face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And answered quietly and clear.—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Ah, no! ah, no!—It cannot be—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choose out another husband, dear,"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Muni cried,—"or woe is me!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And why should I? When I have given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart away, though but in thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can I take back? Forbid it, Heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It were a deadly sin, I wot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And why should I? I know no crime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In him or his."—"Believe me, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My reasons shall be clear in time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I speak not like a madman wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trust me in this."—"I cannot break<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A plighted faith,—I cannot bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wounded conscience."—"Oh, forsake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This fancy, hence may spring despair."—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It may not be."—The father heard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By turns the speakers, and in doubt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus interposed a gentle word,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Friend should to friend his mind speak out,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is he not worthy? tell us."—"Nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All worthiness is in Satyavan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no one can my praise gainsay:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of solar race—more god than man!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Great Soorasen, his ancestor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Dyoumatsen his father blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are known to fame: I can aver<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No kings have been so good and kind."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then where, O Muni, is the bar?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If wealth be gone, and kingdom lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His merit still remains a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor melts his lineage like the frost.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For riches, worldly power, or rank<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I care not,—I would have my son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pure, wise, and brave,—the Fates I thank<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see no hindrance, no, not one."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Since thou insistest, King, to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fatal truth,—I tell you,—I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon this day as rounds the year<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The young Prince Satyavan shall die."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was enough. The monarch knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The future was no sealèd book<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Brahma's son. A clammy dew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread on his brow,—he gently took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Savitri's palm in his, and said:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"No child can give away her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pledge is nought unsanctionèd;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And here, if right I understand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was no pledge at all,—a thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shadow,—barely crossed the mind—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unblamed, it may be clean forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before the gods it cannot bind.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And think upon the dreadful curse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of widowhood; the vigils, fasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And penances; no life is worse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than hopeless life,—the while it lasts.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day follows day in one long round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Monotonous and blank and drear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less painful were it to be bound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On some bleak rock, for aye to hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without one chance of getting free—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ocean's melancholy voice!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine be the sin,—if sin there be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thou must make a different choice."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the meek grace of virginhood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unblanched her cheek, undimmed her eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Savitri, like a statue, stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Somewhat austere was her reply.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Once, and once only, all submit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Destiny,—'tis God's command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once, and once only, so 'tis writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall woman pledge her faith and hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once, and once only, can a sire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto his well-loved daughter say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In presence of the witness fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I give thee to this man away.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Once, and once only, have I given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My heart and faith—'tis past recall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With conscience none have ever striven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And none may strive, without a fall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the less solemn was my vow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because unheard, and oh! the sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not be less, if I should now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deny the feeling felt within.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwedded to my dying day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I must, my father dear, remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis well, if so thou will'st, but say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can man balk Fate, or break its chain?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If Fate so rules, that I should feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The miseries of a widow's life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can man's device the doom repeal?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unequal seems to be a strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between Humanity and Fate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">None have on earth what they desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death comes to all or soon or late;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And peace is but a wandering fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Expediency leads wild astray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Right must be our guiding star;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duty our watchword, come what may;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Judge for me, friends,—as wiser far."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She said, and meekly looked to both.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The father, though he patient heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give the sanction still seemed loth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Narad Muni took the word.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bless thee, my child! 'Tis not for us<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To question the Almighty will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though cloud on cloud loom ominous,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In gentle rain they may distil."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At this, the monarch—"Be it so!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I sanction what my friend approves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All praise to Him, whom praise we owe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My child shall wed the youth she loves."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p><h3><span class="smcap">Part II.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great joy in Madra. Blow the shell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The marriage over to declare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now to forest-shades where dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hermits, wend the wedded pair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doors of every house are hung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gay festoons of leaves and flowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blazing banners broad are flung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trumpets blown from castle towers!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow the procession makes its ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the crowded city street:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blessings in a storm of sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At every step the couple greet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Past all the houses, past the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Past gardens gay, and hedgerows trim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past fields, where sinuous brooklets small<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With molten silver to the brim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glance in the sun's expiring light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Past frowning hills, past pastures wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last arises on the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Foliage on foliage densely piled,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The woods primeval, where reside<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The holy hermits;—henceforth here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must live the fair and gentle bride:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But this thought brought with it no fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fear! With her husband by her still?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or weariness! Where all was new?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! What a welcome from the hill!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There gathered are a hermits few.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Screaming the peacocks upward soar;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wondering the timid wild deer gaze;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from Briarean fig-trees hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look down the monkeys in amaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the procession moves along;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now behold, the bridegroom's sire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With joy comes forth amid the throng;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What reverence his looks inspire!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blind! With his partner by his side!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For them it was a hallowed time!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warmly they greet the modest bride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her dark eyes and front sublime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One only grief they feel.—Shall she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who dwelt in palace halls before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell in their huts beneath the tree?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would not their hard life press her sore;—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The manual labour, and the want<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of comforts that her rank became,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Valkala robes, meals poor and scant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All undermine the fragile frame?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To see the bride, the hermits' wives<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And daughters gathered to the huts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Women of pure and saintly lives!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there beneath the betel-nuts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tall trees like pillars, they admire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her beauty, and congratulate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parents, that their hearts' desire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had thus accorded been by Fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Satyavan their son had found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In exile lone, a fitting mate:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gossips add,—good signs abound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prosperity shall on her wait.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Good signs in features, limbs, and eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That old experience can discern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good signs on earth and in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That it could read at every turn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now with rice and gold, all bless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bride and bridegroom,—and they go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy in others' happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each to her home, beneath the glow<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of the late risen moon that lines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With silver, all the ghost-like trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sals, tamarisks, and South-Sea pines,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And palms whose plumes wave in the breeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">False was the fear, the parents felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Savitri liked her new life much;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though in a lowly home she dwelt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her conduct as a wife was such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As to illumine all the place;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She sickened not, nor sighed, nor pined;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with simplicity and grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Discharged each household duty kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong in all manual work,—and strong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To comfort, cherish, help, and pray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hours past peacefully along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rippling bright, day followed day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At morn Satyavan to the wood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Early repaired and gathered flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fruits, in its wild solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fuel,—till advancing hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Apprised him that his frugal meal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awaited him. Ah, happy time!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Savitri, who with fervid zeal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had said her orisons sublime,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And fed the Bramins and the birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now ministered. Arcadian love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tender smiles and honeyed words,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All bliss of earth thou art above!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet there was a spectre grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A skeleton in Savitri's heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looming in shadow, somewhat dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But which would never thence depart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was that fatal, fatal speech<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Narad Muni. As the days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slipt smoothly past, each after each,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In private she more fervent prays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But there is none to share her fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For how could she communicate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sad cause of her bidden tears?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The doom approached, the fatal date.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No help from man. Well, be it so!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sympathy,—it matters not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God can avert the heavy blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He answers worship. Thus she thought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, her prayers, by day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like incense rose unto the throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor did she vow neglect or rite<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Veds enjoin or helpful own.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the fourteenth of the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As nearer came the time of dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Joystee, that is May or June,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She vowed her vows and Bramins fed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now she counted e'en the hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As to Eternity they past;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er head the dark cloud darker lowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The year is rounding full at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day,—to-day,—with doleful sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The word seem'd in her ear to ring!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O breaking heart,—thy pain profound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy husband knows not, nor the king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exiled and blind, nor yet the queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But One knows in His place above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-day,—to-day,—it will be seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shall be victor, Death or Love!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Incessant in her prayers from morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The noon is safely tided,—then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A gleam of faint, faint hope is born,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the heart fluttered like a wren<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sees the shadow of the hawk<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sail on,—and trembles in affright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest a down-rushing swoop should mock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its fortune, and o'erwhelm it quite.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +<span class="i0">The afternoon has come and gone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And brought no change;—should she rejoice?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gentle evening's shades come on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When hark!—She hears her husband's voice!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The twilight is most beautiful!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mother, to gather fruit I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fuel,—for the air is cool<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Expect me in an hour or so."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The night, my child, draws on apace,"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mother's voice was heard to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The forest paths are hard to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In darkness,—till the morrow stay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Not hard for me, who can discern<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The forest-paths in any hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blindfold I could with ease return,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And day has not yet lost its power."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He goes then," thought Savitri, "thus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With unseen bands Fate draws us on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the place appointed us;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We feel no outward force,—anon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We go to marriage or to death<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At a determined time and place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are her playthings; with her breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She blows us where she lists in space.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> +<span class="i0">What is my duty? It is clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My husband I must follow; so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While he collects his forest gear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me permission get to go."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His sire she seeks,—the blind old king,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And asks from him permission straight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My daughter, night with ebon wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hovers above; the hour is late.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My son is active, brave, and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conversant with the woods, he knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each path; methinks it would be wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thee to venture where he goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weak and defenceless as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At such a time. If thou wert near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou might'st embarrass him, dear heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone, he would not have a fear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So spake the hermit-monarch blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His wife too, entering in, exprest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The self-same thoughts in words as kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And begged Savitri hard, to rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thy recent fasts and vigils, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make thee unfit to undertake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This journey to the forest wild."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But nothing could her purpose shake.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +<span class="i0">She urged the nature of her vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Required her now the rites were done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow where her loving spouse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might e'en a chance of danger run.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go then, my child,—we give thee leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But with thy husband quick return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the flickering shades of eve<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deepen to night, and planets burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And forest-paths become obscure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lit only by their doubtful rays.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods, who guard all women pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bless thee and kept thee in thy ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And safely bring thee and thy lord!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On this she left, and swiftly ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where with his saw in lieu of sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And basket, plodded Satyavan.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lovely are the woods at dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lovely in the sultry noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But loveliest, when the sun withdrawn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The twilight and a crescent moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Change all asperities of shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tone all colours softly down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a blue veil of silvered crape!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo! By that hill which palm-trees crown,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Down the deep glade with perfume rife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From buds that to the dews expand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The husband and the faithful wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pass to dense jungle,—hand in hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Satyavan bears beside his saw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A forkèd stick to pluck the fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wife, the basket lined with straw;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He talks, but she is almost mute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And very pale. The minutes pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The basket has no further space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now on the fruits they flowers amass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That with their red flush all the place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While twilight lingers; then for wood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He saws the branches of the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noise, heard in the solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grates on its soft, low harmonies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And all the while one dreadful thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Haunted Savitri's anxious mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which would have fain its stress forgot;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It came as chainless as the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft and again: thus on the spot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Marked with his heart-blood oft comes back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The murdered man, to see the clot!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death's final blow,—the fatal wrack<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of every hope, whence will it fall?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For fall, by Narad's words, it must;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Persistent rising to appall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This thought its horrid presence thrust.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sudden the noise is hushed,—a pause!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Satyavan lets the weapon drop—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too well Savitri knows the cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He feels not well, the work must stop.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pain is in his head,—a pain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if he felt the cobra's fangs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tries to look around,—in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mist before his vision hangs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The trees whirl dizzily around<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In a fantastic fashion wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His throat and chest seem iron-bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He staggers, like a sleepy child.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My head, my head!—Savitri, dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This pain is frightful. Let me lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here on the turf." Her voice was clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And very calm was her reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if her heart had banished fear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Lean, love, thy head upon my breast,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as she helped him, added—"here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So shall thou better breathe and rest."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Ah me, this pain,—'tis getting dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see no more,—can this be death?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What means this, gods?—Savitri, mark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hands wax cold, and fails my breath."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It may be but a swoon." "Ah! no—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arrows are piercing through my heart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell my love! for I must go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This, this is death." He gave one start<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then lay quiet on her lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Insensible to sight and sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathing his last.... The branches flap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fireflies glimmer all around;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His head upon her breast; his frame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Part on her lap, part on the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus lies he. Hours pass. Still the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pair look statues, magic-bound.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p><h3><span class="smcap">Part III.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death in his palace holds his court,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His messengers move to and fro,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each of his mission makes report,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And takes the royal orders,—Lo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some slow before his throne appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And humbly in the Presence kneel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why hath the Prince not been brought here?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hour is past; nor is appeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Allowed against foregone decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is the mandate with the seal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How comes it ye return to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without him? Shame upon your zeal!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O King, whom all men fear,—he lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in the dark Medhya wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We fled from thence in wild surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left him in that solitude.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We dared not touch him, for there sits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside him, lighting all the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman fair, whose brow permits<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its austerity of grace<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And purity,—no creatures foul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As we seemed, by her loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or soul of evil, ghost or ghoul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To venture close, and far, far less<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To stretch a hand, and bear the dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We left her leaning on her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughtful; no tear-drop had she shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But looked the goddess of the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her meek air of mild command."—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Then on this errand I must go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself, and bear my dreaded brand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This duty unto Fate I owe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know the merits of the prince,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But merit saves not from the doom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Common to man; his death long since<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was destined in his beauty's bloom."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Part IV.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As still Savitri sat beside<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her husband dying,—dying fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She saw a stranger slowly glide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the boughs that shrunk aghast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon his head he wore a crown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That shimmered in the doubtful light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His vestment scarlet reached low down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His waist, a golden girdle dight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His skin was dark as bronze; his face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Irradiate, and yet severe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His eyes had much of love and grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But glowed so bright, they filled with fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A string was in the stranger's hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Noosed at its end. Her terrors now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Savitri scarcely could command.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the sod beneath a bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gently laid her husband's head,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in obeisance bent her brow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"No mortal form is thine,"—she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Beseech thee say what god art thou?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And what can be thine errand here?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Savitri, for thy prayers, thy faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy frequent vows, thy fasts severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I answer,—list,—my name is Death.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I am come myself to take<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy husband from this earth away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he shall cross the doleful lake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In my own charge, and let me say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To few such honours I accord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But his pure life and thine require<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No less from me." The dreadful sword<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like lightning glanced one moment dire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the inner man was tied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul no bigger than the thumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be borne onwards by his side:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Savitri all the while stood dumb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the god moved slowly on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gain his own dominions dim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving the body there—anon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Savitri meekly followed him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoping against all hope; he turned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And looked surprised. "Go back, my child!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale, pale the stars above them burned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More weird the scene had grown and wild;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"It is not for the living—hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To follow where the dead must go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy duty lies before thee clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What thou shouldst do, the Shasters show.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The funeral rites that they ordain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sacrifices must take up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy first sad moments; not in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is held to thee this bitter cup;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its lessons thou shall learn in time!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that thou <i>canst</i> do, thou hast done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy dear lord. Thy love sublime<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My deepest sympathy hath won.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Return, for thou hast come as far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As living creature may. Adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let duty be thy guiding star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ever. To thyself be true!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where'er my husband dear is led,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or journeys of his own free will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I too must go, though darkness spread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Across my path, portending ill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis thus my duty I have read!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I am wrong, oh! with me bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But do not bid me backward tread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My way forlorn,—for I can dare<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +<span class="i0">All things but that; ah! pity me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A woman frail, too sorely tried!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let me, let me follow thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O gracious god,—whate'er betide.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"By all things sacred, I entreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Penitence that purifies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By prompt Obedience, full, complete,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To spiritual masters, in the eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gods so precious, by the love<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I bear my husband, by the faith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That looks from earth to heaven above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And by thy own great name O Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all thy kindness, bid me not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave thee, and to go my way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let me follow as I ought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy steps and his, as best I may.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know that in this transient world<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All is delusion,—nothing true;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know its shows are mists unfurled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To please and vanish. To renew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its bubble joys, be magic bound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In <i>Maya's</i> network frail and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not my aim! The gladsome sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of husband, brother, friend, is air<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To such as know that all must die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And that at last the time must come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When eye shall speak no more to eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Love cry,—Lo, this is my sum.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know in such a world as this<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No one can gain his heart's desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pass the years in perfect bliss;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like gold we must be tried by fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each shall suffer as he acts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thinks,—his own sad burden bear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No friends can help,—his sins are facts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That nothing can annul or square,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he must bear their consequence.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can I my husband save by rites?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, no,—that were a vain pretence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Justice eternal strict requites.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He for his deeds shall get his due<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I for mine: thus here each soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is its own friend if it pursue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The right, and run straight for the goal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But its own worst and direst foe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If it choose evil, and in tracks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbidden, for its pleasure go.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who knows not this, true wisdom lacks,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue should be the turn and end<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of every life, all else is vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Duty should be its dearest friend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If higher life, it would attain."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So sweet thy words ring on mine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gentle Savitri, that I fain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would give some sign to make it clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hast not prayed to me in vain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Satyavan's life I may not grant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor take before its term thy life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am not all adamant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel for thee, thou faithful wife!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask thou aught else, and let it be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some good thing for thyself or thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall give it, child, to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If any power on earth be mine."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well be it so. My husband's sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath lost his sight and fair domain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give to his eyes their former fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And place him on his throne again."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"It shall be done. Go back, my child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hour wears late, the wind feels cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The path becomes more weird and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy feet are torn, there's blood, behold!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thou feelest faint from weariness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh try to follow me no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go home, and with thy presence bless<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those who thine absence there deplore."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No weariness, O Death, I feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And how should I, when by the side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Satyavan? In woe and weal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To be a helpmate swears the bride.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is my place; by solemn oath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherever thou conductest him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I too must go, to keep my troth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if the eye at times should brim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis human weakness, give me strength<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My work appointed to fulfil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I may gain the crown at length<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gods give those who do their will.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The power of goodness is so great<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We pray to feel its influence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ever on us. It is late,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the strange landscape awes my sense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I would fain with thee go on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hear thy voice so true and kind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The false lights that on objects shone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have vanished, and no longer blind,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Thanks to thy simple presence. Now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel a fresher air around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see the glory of that brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With flashing rubies fitly crowned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Men call thee Yama—conqueror,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because it is against their will<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They follow thee,—and they abhor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Truth which thou wouldst aye instil.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they thy nature knew aright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O god, all other gods above!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that thou conquerest in the fight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By patience, kindness, mercy, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not by devastating wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They would not shrink in childlike fright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see thy shadow on their path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But hail thee as sick souls the light."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy words, Savitri, greet mine ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As sweet as founts that murmur low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To one who in the deserts drear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With parchèd tongue moves faint and slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because thy talk is heart-sincere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without hypocrisy or guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Demand another boon, my dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not of those forbad erewhile,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall grant it, ere we part:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo, the stars pale,—the way is long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive thy boon, and homewards start,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ah, poor child, thou art not strong."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Another boon! My sire the king<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside myself hath children none,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh grant that from his stock may spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hundred boughs." "It shall be done.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall be blest with many a son<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who his old palace shall rejoice."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Each heart-wish from thy goodness won,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If I am still allowed a choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fain thy voice would ever hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reluctant am I still to part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The way seems short when thou art near<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Satyavan, my heart's dear heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Of all the pleasures given on earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The company of the good is best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weariness has never birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In such a commerce sweet and blest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun runs on its wonted course,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The earth its plenteous treasure yields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All for their sake, and by the force<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their prayer united ever wields.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh let me, let me ever dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amidst the good, where'er it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether in lowly hermit-cell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or in some spot beyond the sea.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The favours man accords to men<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are never fruitless, from them rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand acts beyond our ken<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That float like incense to the skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For benefits can ne'er efface,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They multiply and widely spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And honour follows on their trace.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sharp penances, and vigils dread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Austerities, and wasting fasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Create an empire, and the blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long as this spiritual empire lasts<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Become the saviours of the rest."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O thou endowed with every grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every virtue,—thou whose soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appears upon thy lovely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May the great gods who all control<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send thee their peace. I too would give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One favour more before I go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask something for thyself, and live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happy, and dear to all below,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Till summoned to the bliss above.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Savitri ask, and ask unblamed."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She took the clue, felt Death was Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For no exceptions now he named,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And boldly said,—"Thou knowest, Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The inmost hearts and thoughts of all!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no need to utter word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon thy mercy sole, I call.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If speech be needful to obtain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy grace,—oh hear a wife forlorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let my Satyavan live again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And children unto us be born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wise, brave, and valiant." "From thy stock<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A hundred families shall spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lasting as the solid rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each son of thine shall be a king."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As thus he spoke, he loosed the knot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul of Satyavan that bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And promised further that their lot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In pleasant places should be found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thenceforth, and that they both should live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Four centuries, to which the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fair Savitri, men would give,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then he vanished in a flame.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Adieu, great god!" She took the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No bigger than the human thumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And running swift, soon reached her goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where lay the body stark and dumb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She lifted it with eager hands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as before, when he expired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She placed the head upon the bands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bound her breast which hope new-fired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And which alternate rose and fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then placed his soul upon his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence like a bee it found its cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lo, he woke with sudden start!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His breath came low at first, then deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With an unquiet look he gazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one awaking from a sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wholly bewildered and amazed.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Part V.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As consciousness came slowly back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He recognised his loving wife—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who was it, Love, through regions black<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where hardly seemed a sign of life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carried me bound? Methinks I view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dark face yet—a noble face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had a robe of scarlet hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ruby crown; far, far through space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He bore me, on and on, but now,"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Thou hast been sleeping, but the man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With glory on his kingly brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is gone, thou seest, Satyavan!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O my belovèd,—thou art free!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sleep which had bound thee fast, hath left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine eyelids. Try thyself to be!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For late of every sense bereft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seemedst in a rigid trance;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if thou canst, my love, arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regard the night, the dark expanse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spread out before us, and the skies."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Supported by her, looked he long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the landscape dim outspread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like some old remembered song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The past came back,—a tangled thread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I had a pain, as if an asp<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gnawed in my brain, and there I lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent, for oh! I could but gasp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till someone came that bore away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit into lands unknown:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou, dear, who watchedst beside me,—say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was it a dream from elfland blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or very truth,—my doubts to stay."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"O Love, look round,—how strange and dread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shadows of the high trees fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Homeward our path now let us tread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow I shall tell thee all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Arise! Be strong! Gird up thy loins!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think of our parents, dearest friend!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn darkness haste enjoins,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not likely is it soon to end.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! Jackals still at distance howl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day, long, long will not appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, wild fierce eyes through bushes scowl,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Summon thy courage, lest I fear.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Was that the tiger's sullen growl?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What means this rush of many feet?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can creatures wild so near us prowl?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rise up, and hasten homewards, sweet!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He rose, but could not find the track,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then, too well, Savitri knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His wonted force had not come back.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She made a fire, and from the dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Essayed to shelter him. At last<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He nearly was himself again,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then vividly rose all the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with the past, new fear and pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What anguish must my parents feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who wait for me the livelong hours!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their sore wound let us haste to heal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before it festers, past our powers:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For broken-hearted, they may die!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh hasten dear,—now I am strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more I suffer, let us fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah me! each minute seems so long.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They told me once, they could not live<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without me, in their feeble age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their food and water I must give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And help them in the last sad stage<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Of earthly life, and that Beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In which a son can help by rites.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh what a love is theirs—how fond!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom now Despair, perhaps, benights.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Infirm herself, my mother dear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now guides, methinks, the tottering feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my blind father, for they hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hasten eagerly to meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our fancied steps. O faithful wife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let us on wings fly back again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon their safety hangs my life!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He tried his feelings to restrain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But like some river swelling high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They swept their barriers weak and vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden there burst a fearful cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then followed tears,—like autumn rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hush! Hark, a sweet voice rises clear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A voice of earnestness intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"If I have worshipped Thee in fear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And duly paid with reverence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn sacrifices,—hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Send consolation, and thy peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eternal, to our parents dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That their anxieties may cease.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, ever hath I loved Thy truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Therefore on Thee I dare to call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help us, this night, and them, for sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without thy help, we perish all."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She took in hers Satyavan's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She gently wiped his falling tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"This weakness, Love, I understand!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Courage!" She smiled away his fears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now we shall go, for thou art strong."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She helped him rise up by her side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And led him like a child along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He, wistfully the basket eyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laden with fruit and flowers. "Not now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To-morrow we shall fetch it hence."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, she hung it on a bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"I'll bear thy saw for our defence."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In one fair hand the saw she took,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The other with a charming grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She twined around him, and her look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She turnèd upwards to his face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus aiding him she felt anew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His bosom beat against her own—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More firm his step, more clear his view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More self-possessed his words and tone<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Became, as swift the minutes past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now the pathway he discerns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'neath the trees, they hurry fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Hope's fair light before them burns.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under the faint beams of the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How beautiful appeared the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Light scarlet, flecked with golden bars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the palâsas,<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> in the bowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Nature there herself had made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without the aid of man. At times<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trees on their path cast densest shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nightingales sang mystic rhymes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fears and sorrows to assuage.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where two paths met, the north they chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As leading to the hermitage,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soon before them, dim it rose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here let us end. For all may guess<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blind old king received his sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ruled again with gentleness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The country that was his by right;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that Savitri's royal sire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was blest with many sons,—a race<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Whom poets praised for martial fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every peaceful gift and grace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As for Savitri, to this day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her name is named, when couples wed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the bride the parents say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be thou like her, in heart and head.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> <i>Butea frondosa.</i></p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> +<h2>II.</h2> + +<h2>LAKSHMAN.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hark! Lakshman! Hark, again that cry!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is,—it is my husband's voice!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh hasten, to his succour fly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more hast thou, dear friend, a choice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He calls on thee, perhaps his foes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Environ him on all sides round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wail,—it means death's final throes!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why standest thou, as magic-bound?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is this a time for thought,—oh gird<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy bright sword on, and take thy bow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He heeds not, hears not any word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Evil hangs over us, I know!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swift in decision, prompt in deed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brave unto rashness, can this be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man to whom all looked at need?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is it my brother, that I see!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah no, and I must run alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For further here I cannot stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou transformed to blind dumb stone!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherefore this impious, strange delay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cry,—that cry,—it seems to ring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still in my ears,—I cannot bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suspense; if help we fail to bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His death at least we both can share."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh calm thyself, Videhan Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No cause is there for any fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast thou his prowess never seen?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wipe off for shame that dastard tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What being of demonian birth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could ever brave his mighty arm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there a creature on the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dares to work our hero harm?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The lion and the grisly bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cower when they see his royal look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sun-staring eagles of the air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His glance of anger cannot brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pythons and cobras at his tread<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To their most secret coverts glide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed to the dust each serpent head<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Erect before in hooded pride.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rakshases, Danavs, demons, ghosts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Acknowledge in their hearts his might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slink to their remotest coasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In terror at his very sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Evil to him! Oh fear it not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whatever foes against him rise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banish for aye, the foolish thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be thyself,—bold, great, and wise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He call for help! Canst thou believe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He like a child would shriek for aid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pray for respite or reprieve—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not of such metal is he made!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delusive was that piercing cry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some trick of magic by the foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He has a work,—he cannot die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beseech me not from hence to go.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For here beside thee, as a guard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas he commanded me to stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dangers with my life to ward<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If they should come across thy way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Send me not hence, for in this wood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bands scattered of the giants lurk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who on their wrongs and vengeance brood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wait the hour their will to work."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh shame! And canst thou make my weal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A plea for lingering! Now I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What thou art Lakshman! And I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far better were an open foe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou a coward? I have seen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy bearing in the battle-fray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where flew the death-fraught arrows keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Else had I judged thee so to-day.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But then thy leader stood beside!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dazzles the cloud when shines the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reft of his radiance, see it glide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shapeless mass of vapours dun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So of thy courage,—or if not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The matter is far darker dyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What makes thee loth to leave this spot?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is there a motive thou wouldst hide?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He perishes—well, let him die!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His wife henceforth shall be mine own!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can that thought deep imbedded lie<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within thy heart's most secret zone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Search well and see! one brother takes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His kingdom,—one would take his wife!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fair partition!—But it makes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me shudder, and abhor my life.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Art thou in secret league with those<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who from his hope the kingdom rent?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spy from his ignoble foes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To track him in his banishment?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wouldst thou at his death rejoice?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know thou wouldst, or sure ere now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When first thou heardst that well-known voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou shouldst have run to aid, I trow.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Learn this,—whatever comes may come,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I shall not survive my Love,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all my thoughts here is the sum!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Witness it gods in heaven above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If fire can burn, or water drown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I follow him:—choose what thou wilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Truth with its everlasting crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or falsehood, treachery, and guilt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Remain here, with a vain pretence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of shielding me from wrong and shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or go and die in his defence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave behind a noble name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choose what thou wilt,—I urge no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My pathway lies before me clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I did not know thy mind before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know thee now,—and have no fear."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She said and proudly from him turned,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was this the gentle Sîta? No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flames from her eyes shot forth and burned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tears therein had ceased to flow.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Hear me, O Queen, ere I depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No longer can I bear thy words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They lacerate my inmost heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And torture me, like poisoned swords.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Have I deserved this at thine hand?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of lifelong loyalty and truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is this the meed? I understand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy feelings, Sîta, and in sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I blame thee not,—but thou mightst be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Less rash in judgement. Look! I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Little I care what comes to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wert thou but safe,—God keep thee so!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In going hence I disregard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The plainest orders of my chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A deed for me,—a soldier,—hard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deeply painful, but thy grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And language, wild and wrong, allow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No other course. Mine be the crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mine alone,—but oh, do thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Think better of me from this time.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here with an arrow, lo, I trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A magic circle ere I leave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No evil thing within this space<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May come to harm thee or to grieve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Step not, for aught, across the line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whatever thou mayst see or hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shalt thou balk the bad design<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of every enemy I fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And now farewell! What thou hast said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though it has broken quite my heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So that I wish that I were dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would before, O Queen, we part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Freely forgive, for well I know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That grief and fear have made thee wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We part as friends,—is it not so?"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And speaking thus,—he sadly smiled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And oh ye sylvan gods that dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among these dim and sombre shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose voices in the breezes swell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blend with noises of cascades,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watch over Sîta, whom alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I leave, and keep her safe from harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till we return unto our own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I and my brother, arm in arm.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For though ill omens round us rise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And frighten her dear heart, I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he is safe. Beneath the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His equal is not,—and his heel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall tread all adversaries down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whoever they may chance to be.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, O Sîta! Blessings crown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Peace for ever rest with thee!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said, and straight his weapons took<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His bow and arrows pointed keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind,—nay, indulgent,—was his look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No trace of anger there was seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only a sorrow dark, that seemed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To deepen his resolve to dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All dangers. Hoarse the vulture screamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As out he strode with dauntless air.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> +<h2>III.</h2> + +<h2>JOGADHYA UMA.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 22em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Shell-bracelets ho! Shell-bracelets ho!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair maids and matrons come and buy!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along the road, in morning's glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pedlar raised his wonted cry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The road ran straight, a red, red line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Khirogram, for cream renowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through pasture-meadows where the kine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In knee-deep grass, stood magic bound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And half awake, involved in mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That floated in dun coils profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till by the sudden sunbeams kist<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rich rainbow hues broke all around.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Shell-bracelets ho! Shell-bracelets ho!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roadside trees still dripped with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hung their blossoms like a show.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who heard the cry? 'Twas but a few,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +<span class="i0">A ragged herd-boy, here and there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With his long stick and naked feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ploughman wending to his care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The field from which he hopes the wheat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An early traveller, hurrying fast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the next town; an urchin slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound for the school; these heard and past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unheeding all,—"Shell-bracelets ho!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pellucid spread a lake-like tank<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beside the road now lonelier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">High on three sides arose the bank<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which fruit-trees shadowed at their will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the fourth side was the Ghat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its broad stairs of marble white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at the entrance-arch there sat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full face against the morning light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fair young woman with large eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dark hair falling to her zone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She heard the pedlar's cry arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eager seemed his ware to own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Shell-bracelets ho! See, maiden see!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rich enamel sunbeam-kist!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happy, oh happy, shalt thou be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let them but clasp that slender wrist;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +<span class="i0">These bracelets are a mighty charm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They keep a lover ever true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And widowhood avert, and harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Buy them, and thou shalt never rue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just try them on!"—She stretched her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Oh what a nice and lovely fit!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No fairer hand, in all the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lo! the bracelet matches it."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dazzled the pedlar on her gazed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till came the shadow of a fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she the bracelet arm upraised<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against the sun to view more clear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh she was lovely, but her look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had something of a high command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That filled with awe. Aside she shook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Intruding curls by breezes fanned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blown across her brows and face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And asked the price, which when she heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She nodded, and with quiet grace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For payment to her home referred.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And where, O maiden, is thy house?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But no, that wrist-ring has a tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No maiden art thou, but a spouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happy, and rich, and fair, and young."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"Far otherwise, my lord is poor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And him at home thou shalt not find;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ask for my father; at the door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knock loudly; he is deaf, but kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seest thou that lofty gilded spire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above these tufts of foliage green?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is our place; its point of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will guide thee o'er the tract between."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That is the temple spire."—"Yes, there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We live; my father is the priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The manse is near, a building fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But lowly, to the temple's east.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou hast knocked, and seen him, say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His daughter, at Dhamaser Ghat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shell-bracelets bought from thee to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he must pay so much for that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be sure, he will not let thee pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without the value, and a meal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he demur, or cry alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No money hath he,—then reveal,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Within the small box, marked with streaks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of bright vermilion, by the shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The key whereof has lain for weeks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Untouched, he'll find some coin,—'tis mine.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +<span class="i0">That will enable him to pay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bracelet's price, now fare thee well!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She spoke, the pedlar went away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charmed with her voice, as by some spell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While she left lonely there, prepared<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To plunge into the water pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a rose her beauty bared,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From all observance quite secure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not weak she seemed, nor delicate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strong was each limb of flexile grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And full the bust; the mien elate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like hers, the goddess of the chase<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Latmos hill,—and oh, the face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Framed in its cloud of floating hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No painter's hand might hope to trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beauty and the glory there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well might the pedlar look with awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For though her eyes were soft, a ray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lit them at times, which kings who saw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would never dare to disobey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Onwards through groves the pedlar sped<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till full in front the sunlit spire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arose before him. Paths which led<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gardens trim in gay attire<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Lay all around. And lo! the manse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Humble but neat with open door!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He paused, and blest the lucky chance<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That brought his bark to such a shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Huge straw ricks, log huts full of grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sleek cattle, flowers, a tinkling bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoke in a language sweet and plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Here smiling Peace and Plenty dwell."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unconsciously he raised his cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Shell-bracelets ho!" And at his voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked out the priest, with eager eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made his heart at once rejoice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Ho, <i>Sankha</i> pedlar! Pass not by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But step thou in, and share the food<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just offered on our altar high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If thou art in a hungry mood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcome are all to this repast!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rich and poor, the high and low!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, wash thy feet, and break thy fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then on thy journey strengthened go."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh thanks, good priest! Observance due<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And greetings! May thy name be blest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I came on business, but I knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here might be had both food and rest<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Without a charge; for all the poor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ten miles around thy sacred shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know that thou keepest open door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And praise that generous hand of thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let my errand first be told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For bracelets sold to thine this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So much thou owest me in gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast thou the ready cash to pay?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The bracelets were enamelled,—so<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The price is high."—"How! Sold to mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who bought them, I should like to know."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Thy daughter, with the large black eyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now bathing at the marble ghat."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loud laughed the priest at this reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I shall not put up, friend, with that;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No daughter in the world have I,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An only son is all my stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some minx has played a trick, no doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheer up, let thy heart be gay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be sure that I shall find her out."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nay, nay, good father, such a face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could not deceive, I must aver;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At all events, she knows thy place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'And if my father should demur<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To pay thee'—thus she said,—'or cry<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He has no money, tell him straight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The box vermilion-streaked to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That's near the shrine.'" "Well, wait, friend, wait!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The priest said thoughtful, and he ran<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with the open box came back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Here is the price exact, my man,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No surplus over, and no lack.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How strange! how strange! Oh blest art thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To have beheld her, touched her hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before whom Vishnu's self must bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Brahma and his heavenly band!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here have I worshipped her for years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And never seen the vision bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vigils and fasts and secret tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have almost quenched my outward sight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet that dazzling form and face<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have not seen, and thou, dear friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee, unsought for, comes the grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What may its purport be, and end?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How strange! How strange! Oh happy thou!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And couldst thou ask no other boon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than thy poor bracelet's price? That brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Resplendent as the autumn moon<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Must have bewildered thee, I trow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made thee lose thy senses all."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dim light on the pedlar now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Began to dawn; and he let fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bracelet basket in his haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And backward ran the way he came;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What meant the vision fair and chaste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose eyes were they,—those eyes of flame?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Swift ran the pedlar as a hind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The old priest followed on his trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They reached the Ghat but could not find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lady of the noble face.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds were silent in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lotus flowers exhaled a smell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint, over all the solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A heron as a sentinel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood by the bank. They called,—in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No answer came from hill or fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The landscape lay in slumber's chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'en Echo slept within her cell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Broad sunshine, yet a hush profound!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They turned with saddened hearts to go;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then from afar there came a sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of silver bells;—the priest said low,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +<span class="i0">"O Mother, Mother, deign to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The worship-hour has rung; we wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In meek humility and fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must we return home desolate?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh come, as late thou cam'st unsought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or was it but an idle dream?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give us some sign if it was not,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A word, a breath, or passing gleam."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sudden from out the water sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A rounded arm, on which they saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As high the lotus buds among<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It rose, the bracelet white, with awe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then a wide ripple tost and swung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blossoms on that liquid plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lo! the arm so fair and young<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sank in the waters down again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They bowed before the mystic Power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as they home returned in thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each took from thence a lotus flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In memory of the day and spot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Years, centuries, have passed away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still before the temple shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descendants of the pedlar pay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shell bracelets of the old design<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As annual tribute. Much they own<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In lands and gold,—but they confess<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that eventful day alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dawned on their industry,—success.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Absurd may be the tale I tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill-suited to the marching times,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I loved the lips from which it fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So let it stand among my rhymes.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<h2>IV.</h2> + +<h2>THE ROYAL ASCETIC AND THE HIND.</h2> + +<h3><i>From the Vishnu Purana. B. II. Chap. XIII.</i></h3> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Maitreya.</span> Of old thou gav'st a promise to relate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deeds of Bharat, that great hermit-king:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beloved Master, now the occasion suits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I am all attention.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Parasara.</span> Brahman, hear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a mind fixed intently on his gods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long reigned in Saligram of ancient fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mighty monarch of the wide, wide world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chief of the virtuous, never in his life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harmed he, or strove to harm, his fellow-man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or any creature sentient. But he left<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His kingdom in the forest-shades to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And changed his sceptre for a hermit's staff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with ascetic rites, privations rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And constant prayers, endeavoured to attain<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Perfect dominion on his soul. At morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fuel, and flowers, and fruit, and holy grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gathered for oblations; and he passed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In stern devotions all his other hours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the world heedless, and its myriad cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heedless too of wealth, and love, and fame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Once on a time, while living thus, he went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bathe where through the wood the river flows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his ablutions done, he sat him down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the shelving bank to muse and pray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thither impelled by thirst a graceful hind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big with its young, came fearlessly to drink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden, while yet she drank, the lion's roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feared by all creatures, like a thunder-clap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burst in that solitude from a thicket nigh.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Startled, the hind leapt up, and from her womb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her offspring tumbled in the rushing stream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whelmed by the hissing waves and carried far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the strong current swoln by recent rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tiny thing still struggled for its life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While its poor mother, in her fright and pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell down upon the bank, and breathed her last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up rose the hermit-monarch at the sight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of keen anguish; with his pilgrim staff<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He drew the new-born creature from the wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas panting fast, but life was in it still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, as he saw its luckless mother dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He would not leave it in the woods alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with the tenderest pity brought it home.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, in his leafy hut, he gave it food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And daily nourished it with patient care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until it grew in stature and in strength,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the forest skirts could venture forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In search of sustenance. At early morn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thenceforth it used to leave the hermitage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the shades of evening come again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the little courtyard of the hut<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie down in peace, unless the tigers fierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prowling about, compelled it to return<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earlier at noon. But whether near or far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wandering abroad, or resting in its home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monarch-hermit's heart was with it still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bound by affection's ties; nor could he think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of anything besides this little hind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His nursling. Though a kingdom he had left,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And children, and a host of loving friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Almost without a tear, the fount of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sprang out anew within his blighted heart,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +<span class="i0">To greet this dumb, weak, helpless foster-child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, whene'er it lingered in the wilds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or at the 'customed hour could not return,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His thoughts went with it; "And alas!" he cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Who knows, perhaps some lion or some wolf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ravenous tiger with relentless jaws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Already hath devoured it,—timid thing!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, how the earth is dinted with its hoofs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And variegated. Surely for my joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was created. When will it come back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rub its budding antlers on my arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In token of its love and deep delight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see my face? The shaven stalks of grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kusha and kasha, by its new teeth clipped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remind me of it, as they stand in lines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like pious boys who chant the Samga Veds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shorn by their vows of all their wealth of hair."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus passed the monarch-hermit's time; in joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With smiles upon his lips, whenever near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His little favourite; in bitter grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fear, and trouble, when it wandered far.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he who had abandoned ease and wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And friends and dearest ties, and kingly power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found his devotions broken by the love<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He had bestowed upon a little hind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrown in his way by chance. Years glided on....<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death, who spareth none, approached at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hermit-king to summon him away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hind was at his side, with tearful eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching his last sad moments, like a child<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside a father. He too, watched and watched<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His favourite through a blinding film of tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could not think of the Beyond at hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So keen he felt the parting, such deep grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'erwhelmed him for the creature he had reared.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To it devoted was his last, last thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reckless of present and of future both!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Thus far the pious chronicle, writ of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Brahman sage; but we, who happier, live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the holiest dispensation, know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That God is Love, and not to be adored<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By a devotion born of stoic pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with ascetic rites, or penance hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with a love, in character akin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To His unselfish, all-including love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore little can we sympathize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With what the Brahman sage would fain imply<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +<span class="i0">As the concluding moral of his tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That for the hermit-king it was a sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To love his nursling. What! a sin to love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sin to pity! Rather should we deem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whatever Brahmans wise, or monks may hold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he had sinned in <i>casting off</i> all love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his retirement to the forest-shades;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that was to abandon duties high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a recreant soldier, leave the post<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where God had placed him as a sentinel.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This little hind brought strangely on his path,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This love engendered in his withered heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This hindrance to his rituals,—might these not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have been ordained to teach him? Call him back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ways marked out for him by Love divine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a mind less self-willed to adore?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not in seclusion, not apart from all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in a place elected for its peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in the heat and bustle of the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid sorrow, sickness, suffering and sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must he still labour with a loving soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who strives to enter through the narrow gate.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> +<h2>V.</h2> + +<h2>THE LEGEND OF DHRUVA.</h2> + +<h3><i>Vishnu Purana. Book I. Chapter XI.</i></h3> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sprung from great Brahma, Manu had two sons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heroic and devout, as I have said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pryavrata and Uttanapado,—names<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Known in legends; and of these the last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Married two wives, Suruchee, his adored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother of a handsome petted boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uttama; and Suneetee, less beloved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mother of another son whose name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was Dhruva. Seated on his throne the king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uttanapado, on his knee one day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had placed Uttama; Dhruva, who beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His brother in that place of honour, longed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To clamber up and by his playmate sit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led on by Love he came, but found, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scant welcome and encouragement; the king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw fair Suruchee sweep into the hall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With stately step,—aye, every inch a queen,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And dared not smile upon her co-wife's son.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Observing him,—her rival's boy,—intent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mount ambitious to his father's knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sat her own, thus fair Suruchee spake:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Why hast thou, child, formed such a vain design?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why harboured such an aspiration proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born from another's womb and not from mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh thoughtless! To desire the loftiest place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The throne of thrones, a royal father's lap!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is an honour to the destined given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not within thy reach. What though thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born of the king; those sleek and tender limbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold of my blood no portion; I am queen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the equal of mine only son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were in thee vain ambition. Know'st thou not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair prattler, thou art sprung,—not, not from mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But from Suneetee's bowels? Learn thy place."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Repulsed in silence from his father's lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Indignant, furious, at the words that fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his step-mother's lips, poor Dhruva ran<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his own mother's chambers, where he stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside her with his pale, thin, trembling lips,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +<span class="i0">(Trembling with an emotion ill-suppressed)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hair in wild disorder, till she took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And raised him to her lap, and gently said:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh, child, what means this? What can be the cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this great anger? Who hath given thee pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He that hath vexed thee, hath despised thy sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in these veins thou hast the royal blood."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus conjured, Dhruva, with a swelling heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Repeated to his mother every word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That proud Suruchee spake, from first to last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in the very presence of the king.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His speech oft broken by his tears and sobs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Helpless Suneetee, languid-eyed from care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard sighing deeply, and then soft replied:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh son, to lowly fortune thou wert born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what my co-wife said to thee is truth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No enemy to Heaven's favoured ones may say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such words as thy step-mother said to thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, son, it is not meet that thou shouldst grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or vex thy soul. The deeds that thou hast done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The evil, haply, in some former life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long, long ago, who may alas! annul,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Or who the good works not done, supplement!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sins of previous lives must bear their fruit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ivory throne, the umbrella of gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The best steed, and the royal elephant<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rich caparisoned, must be his by right<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has deserved them by his virtuous acts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In times long past. Oh think on this, my son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be content. For glorious actions done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not in this life, but in some previous birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suruchee by the monarch is beloved.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Women, unfortunate like myself, who bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the name of wife without the powers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But pine and suffer for our ancient sins.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suruchee raised her virtues pile on pile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hence Uttama her son, the fortunate!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suneetee heaped but evil,—hence her son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dhruva the luckless! But for all this, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not meet that thou shouldst ever grieve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I have said. That man is truly wise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is content with what he has, and seeks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing beyond, but in whatever sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lowly or great, God placed him, works in faith;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My son, my son, though proud Suruchee spake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harsh words indeed, and hurt thee to the quick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet to thine eyes thy duty should be plain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Collect a large sum of the virtues; thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A goodly harvest must to thee arise.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be meek, devout, and friendly, full of love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Intent to do good to the human race<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to all creatures sentient made of God;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oh, be humble, for on modest worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Descends prosperity, even as water flows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down to low grounds."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">She finished, and her son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who patiently had listened, thus replied:—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Mother, thy words of consolation find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor resting-place, nor echo in this heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken by words severe, repulsing Love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That timidly approached to worship. Hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My resolve unchangeable. I shall try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The highest good, the loftiest place to win,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the whole world deems priceless and desires.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a crown above my father's crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall obtain it, and at any cost<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of toil, or penance, or unceasing prayer.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not born of proud Suruchee, whom the king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Favours and loves, but grown up from a germ<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +<span class="i0">In thee, O mother, humble as thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I yet shall show thee what is in my power.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt behold my glory and rejoice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let Uttama my brother,—not thy son,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Receive the throne and royal titles,—all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father pleases to confer on him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I grudge them not. Not with another's gifts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Desire I, dearest mother, to be rich,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with my own work would acquire a name.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall strive unceasing for a place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as my father hath not won,—a place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That would not know him even,—aye, a place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far above the highest of this earth."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said, and from his mother's chambers past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And went into the wood where hermits live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never to his father's house returned.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well kept the boy his promise made that day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By prayer and penance Dhruva gained at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The highest heavens, and there he shines a star!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nightly men see him in the firmament.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<h2>VI.</h2> + +<h2>BUTTOO.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ho! Master of the wondrous art!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instruct me in fair archery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buy for aye,—a grateful heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That will not grudge to give thy fee."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus spoke a lad with kindling eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hunter's low-born son was he,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Dronacharjya, great and wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sat with princes round his knee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Up Time's fair stream far back,—oh far,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great wise teacher must be sought!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Kurus had not yet in war<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the Pandava brethren fought.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In peace, at Dronacharjya's feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Magic and archery they learned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A complex science, which we meet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more, with ages past inurned.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And who art thou," the teacher said,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My science brave to learn so fain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which many kings who wear the thread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have asked to learn of me in vain."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My name is Buttoo," said the youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"A hunter's son, I know not Fear;"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The teacher answered, smiling smooth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Then know him from this time, my dear."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unseen the magic arrow came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the laughter and the scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of royal youths,—like lightning flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden and sharp. They blew the horn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As down upon the ground he fell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not hurt, but made a jest and game;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rose,—and waved a proud farewell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But cheek and brow grew red with shame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And lo,—a single, single tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dropped from his eyelash as he past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My place I gather is not here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter,—what is rank or caste?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In us is honour, or disgrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not out of us," 'twas thus he mused,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The question is,—not wealth or place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But gifts well used, or gifts abused."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And I shall do my best to gain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The science that man will not teach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For life is as a shadow vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until the utmost goal we reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To which the soul points. I shall try<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To realize my waking dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what if I should chance to die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None miss one bubble from a stream."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So thinking, on and on he went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till he attained the forest's verge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The garish day was well-nigh spent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Birds had already raised its dirge.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh what a scene! How sweet and calm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It soothed at once his wounded pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on his spirit shed a balm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all its yearnings purified.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What glorious trees! The sombre saul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the eye delights to rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The betel-nut,—a pillar tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With feathery branches for a crest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light-leaved tamarind spreading wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pale faint-scented bitter neem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seemul, gorgeous as a bride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With flowers that have the ruby's gleam,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Indian fig's pavilion tent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which whole armies might repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With here and there a little rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunset's beauty to disclose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bamboo boughs that sway and swing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath bulbuls as the south wind blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mangoe-tope, a close dark ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Home of the rooks and clamorous crows,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The champac, bok, and South-sea pine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nagessur with pendant flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like ear-rings,—and the forest vine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That clinging over all, embowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sirish famed in Sanscrit song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which rural maidens love to wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peepul giant-like and strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bramble with its matted hair,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All these, and thousands, thousands more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With helmet red, or golden crown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or green tiara, rose before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The youth in evening's shadows brown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He passed into the forest,—there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New sights of wonder met his view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A waving Pampas green and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All glistening with the evening dew.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How vivid was the breast-high grass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here waved in patches, forest corn,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here intervened a deep morass,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here arid spots of verdure shorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay open,—rock or barren sand,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here again the trees arose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thick clustering,—a glorious band<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their tops still bright with sunset glows.—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stirred in the breeze the crowding boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seemed to welcome him with signs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onwards and on,—till Buttoo's brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are gemmed with pearls, and day declines.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in a grassy open space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He sits and leans against a tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let the wind blow on his face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And look around him leisurely.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Herds, and still herds, of timid deer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were feeding in the solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They knew not man, and felt no fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heeded not his neighbourhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some young ones with large eyes and sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Came close, and rubbed their foreheads smooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against his arms, and licked his feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if they wished his cares to soothe.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They touch me," he exclaimed with joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"They have no pride of caste like men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shrink not from the hunter-boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should not my home be with them then?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in this forest let me dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With these companions innocent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And learn each science and each spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All by myself in banishment.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A calm, calm life,—and it shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its own exceeding great reward!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No thoughts to vex in all I see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No jeers to bear or disregard;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All creatures and inanimate things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be my tutors; I shall learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From beast, and fish, and bird with wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rock, and stream, and tree, and fern."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With this resolve, he soon began<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To build a hut, of reeds and leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when that needful work was done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gathered in his store, the sheaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of forest corn, and all the fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Date, plum, guava, he could find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every pleasant nut and root<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By Providence for man designed,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A statue next of earth he made,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An image of the teacher wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So deft he laid, the light and shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On figure, forehead, face and eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That any one who chanced to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That image tall might soothly swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he great Dronacharjya knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The teacher in his flesh was there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then at the statue's feet he placed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bow, and arrows tipped with steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wild-flower garlands interlaced,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hailed the figure in his zeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Master, and his head he bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pupil reverent from that hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one who late had disallowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The claim, in pride of place and power.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By strainèd sense, by constant prayer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By steadfastness of heart and will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By courage to confront and dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All obstacles he conquered still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A conscience clear,—a ready hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joined to a meek humility,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Success must everywhere command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How could he fail who had all three!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now, by tests assured, he knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own God-gifted wondrous might,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing to any man he owes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unaided he has won the fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Equal to gods themselves,—above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wishmo and Drona,—for his worth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His name, he feels, shall be with love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reckoned with great names of the earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet lacks he not, in reverence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Dronacharjya, who declined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To teach him,—nay, with e'en offence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That well might wound a noble mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drove him away;—for in his heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meek, placable, and ever kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resentment had not any part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Malice never was enshrined.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One evening, on his work intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone he practised Archery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When lo! the bow proved false and sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The arrow from its mark awry;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again he tried,—and failed again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why was it? Hark!—A wild dog's bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An evil omen:—it was plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some evil on his path hung dark!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus many times he tried and failed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still that lean, persistent dog<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At distance, like some spirit wailed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Safe in the cover of a fog.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His nerves unstrung, with many a shout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He strove to frighten it away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It would not go,—but roamed about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howling, as wolves howl for their prey.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Worried and almost in a rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One magic shaft at last he sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sample of his science sage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To quiet but the noises meant.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unerring to its goal it flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No death ensued, no blood was dropped,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But by the hush the young man knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last that howling noise had stopped.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It happened on this very day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the Pandava princes came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the Kuru princes gay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beat the woods and hunt the game.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parted from others in the chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arjuna brave the wild dog found,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stuck still the shaft,—but not a trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hurt, though tongue and lip were bound.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wonder of wonders! Didst not thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Dronacharjya, promise me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy crown in time should deck my brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I be first in archery?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! here, some other thou hast taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A magic spell,—to all unknown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who has in secret from thee bought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The knowledge, in this arrow shown!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Indignant thus Arjuna spake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To his great Master when they met—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"My word, my honour, is at stake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judge not, Arjuna, judge not yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, let us see the dog,"—and straight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They followed up the creature's trace.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They found it, in the selfsame state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dumb, yet unhurt,—near Buttoo's place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A hut,—a statue,—and a youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dim forest,—what mean these?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They gazed in wonder, for in sooth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thing seemed full of mysteries.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now who art thou that dar'st to raise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine image in the wilderness?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is it for worship and for praise?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is thine object? speak, confess."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh Master, unto thee I came<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To learn thy science. Name or pelf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had not, so was driven with shame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here I learn all by myself.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still as Master thee revere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For who so great in archery!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, all my inspiration here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my knowledge is from thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If I am Master, now thou hast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Finished thy course, give me my due.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all the past, be dead and past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth be ties between us new."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"All that I have, O Master mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All I shall conquer by my skill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gladly shall I to thee resign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me but know thy gracious will."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is it a promise?" "Yea, I swear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So long as I have breath and life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give thee all thou wilt." "Beware!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rash promise ever ends in strife."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Thou art my Master,—ask! oh ask!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thee my inspiration came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not set too hard a task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught refuse I, free from blame."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If it be so,—Arjuna hear!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arjuna and the youth were dumb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"For thy sake, loud I ask and clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me, O youth, thy right-hand thumb.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I promised in my faithfulness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No equal ever shall there be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee, Arjuna,—and I press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For this sad recompense—for thee."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glanced the sharp knife one moment high,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The severed thumb was on the sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There was no tear in Buttoo's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He left the matter with his God.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"For this,"—said Dronacharjya,—"Fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall sound thy praise from sea to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men shall ever link thy name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Self-help, Truth, and Modesty."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<h2>VII.</h2> + +<h2>SINDHU.</h2> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Part I.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep in the forest shades there dwelt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A <i>Muni</i> and his wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind, gray-haired, weak, they hourly felt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their slender hold on life.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No friends had they, no help or stay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Except an only boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bright-eyed child, his laughter gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their leaf-hut filled with joy.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Attentive, duteous, loving, kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thoughtful, sedate, and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He waited on his parents blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose days were like a psalm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He roamed the woods for luscious fruits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He brought them water pure,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +<span class="i0">He cooked their simple mess of roots,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Content to live obscure.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To fretful questions, answers mild<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He meekly ever gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they reproved, he only smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He loved to be their slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not that to him they were austere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But age is peevish still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear to their hearts he was,—so dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That none his place might fill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They called him Sindhu, and his name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was ever on their tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he, nor cared for wealth nor fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who dwelt his own among.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A belt of <i>Bela</i> trees hemmed round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cottage small and rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If peace on earth was ever found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas in that solitude.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Part II.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great Dasarath, the King of Oude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom all men love and fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With elephants and horses proud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Went forth to hunt the deer.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh gallant was the long array!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pennons and plumes were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swords that mirrored back the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spears and axes keen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rang trump, and conch, and piercing fife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Woke Echo from her bed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn woods with sounds were rife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As on the pageant sped.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hundreds, nay thousands, on they went!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild beasts fled away!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deer ran in herds, and wild boars spent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Became an easy prey.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whirring the peacocks from the brake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Argus wings arose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild swans abandoned pool and lake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For climes beyond the snows.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From tree to tree the monkeys sprung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unharmed and unpursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As louder still the trumpets rung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And startled all the wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The porcupines and such small game<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unnoted fled at will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weasel only caught to tame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From fissures in the hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Slunk light the tiger from the bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But sudden turned to bay!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he beheld the serried rank<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That barred his tangled way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Uprooting fig-trees on their path,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trampling shrubs and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild elephants, in fear and wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Burst through, like moving towers.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lowering their horns in crescents grim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whene'er they turned about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Retreated into coverts dim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bisons' fiercer rout.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in this mimic game of war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bands dispersed and past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The royal train,—some near, some far,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As day closed in at last.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was the king? He left his friends<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At midday, it was known,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now that evening fast descends<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where was he? All alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Curving, the river formed a lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon whose bank he stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No noise the silence there to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or mar the solitude.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the glassy surface fell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The last beams of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like fiery darts, that lengthening swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As breezes wake and play.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Osiers and willows on the edge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And purple buds and red,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leant down,—and 'mid the pale green sedge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lotus raised its head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And softly, softly, hour by hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Light faded, and a veil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell over tree, and wave, and flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On came the twilight pale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deeper and deeper grew the shades,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stars glimmered in the sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nightingale along the glades<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Raised her preluding cry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is that momentary flash?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A gleam of silver scales<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reveals the <i>Mahseer</i>;—then a splash,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And calm again prevails.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As darkness settled like a pall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The eye would pierce in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fireflies gemmed the bushes all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like fiery drops of rain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pleased with the scene,—and knowing not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which way, alas! to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monarch lingered on the spot,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lake spread bright below.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He lingered, when—oh hark! oh hark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What sound salutes his ear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A roebuck drinking in the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not hunted, nor in fear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Straight to the stretch his bow he drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That bow ne'er missed its aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whizzing the deadly arrow flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ear-guided, on the game!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah me! What means this?—Hark, a cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A feeble human wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Oh God!" it said—"I die,—I die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who'll carry home the pail?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Startled, the monarch forward ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then there met his view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sight to freeze in any man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The warm blood coursing true.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A child lay dying on the grass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A pitcher by his side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor Sindhu was the child, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His parents' stay and pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His bow and quiver down to fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lift the wounded boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moment's work was with the king.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not dead,—that was a joy!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He placed the child's head on his lap,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ranged the blinding hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blood welled fearful from the gap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On neck and bosom fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He dashed cold water on the face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He chafed the hands, with sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till sense revived, and he could trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Expression in the eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then mingled with his pity, fear—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all this universe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is so dreadful as to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Bramin's dying curse!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So thought the king, and on his brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The beads of anguish spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sindhu, fully conscious now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The anguish plainly read.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What dost thou fear, O mighty king?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For sure a king thou art!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should thy bosom anguish wring?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No crime was in thine heart!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Unwittingly the deed was done;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is my destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O fear not thou, but pity one<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose fate is thus to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No curses, no!—I bear no grudge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not thou my blood hast spilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! here before the unseen Judge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee I absolve from guilt.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The iron, red-hot as it burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Burns those that touch it too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not such my nature,—for it spurns,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thank God, the like to do.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Because I suffer, should I give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee, king, a needless pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, no! I die, but mayst thou live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cleansed from every stain!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Struck with these words, and doubly grieved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At what his hands had done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monarch wept, as weeps bereaved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A man his only son.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nay, weep not so," resumed the child,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"But rather let me say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own sad story, sin-defiled.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And why I die to day!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Picking a living in our sheaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And happy in their loves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near, 'mid a peepul's quivering leaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There lived a pair of doves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Never were they two separate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lo, in idle mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I took a sling and ball, elate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wicked sport and rude,—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And killed one bird,—it was the male,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh cruel deed and base!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The female gave a plaintive wail<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And looked me in the face!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The wail and sad reproachful look<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In plain words seemed to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A widowed life I cannot brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The forfeit thou must pay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What was my darling's crime that thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Him wantonly shouldst kill?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curse of blood is on thee now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blood calls for red blood still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And so I die—a bloody death—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not for this I mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feel the world pass with my breath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I gladly could have borne,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But for my parents, who are blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And have no other stay,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This, this, weighs sore upon my mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fills me with dismay.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Upon the eleventh day of the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They keep a rigorous fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All yesterday they fasted; soon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For water and repast<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They shall upon me feebly call!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, must they call in vain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear thou the pitcher, friend—'tis all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I ask—down that steep lane."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He pointed,—ceased,—then sudden died!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The king took up the corpse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the pitcher slowly hied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attended by Remorse,<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down the steep lane—unto the hut<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Girt round with <i>Bela</i> trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleamed far a light-the door not shut<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was open to the breeze.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Part III.</span></h3> + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh why does not our child return?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too long he surely stays."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to the <i>Muni</i>, blind and stern,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His partner gently says.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For fruits and water when he goes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He never stays so long,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh can it be, beset by foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He suffers cruel wrong?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Some distance he has gone, I fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A more circuitous round,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet why should he? The fruits are near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The river near our bound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I die of thirst,—it matters not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If Sindhu be but safe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What if he leave us, and this spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poor birds in cages chafe.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Peevish and fretful oft we are,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, no—that cannot be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our blind eyes he is the star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without him, what were we?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Too much he loves us to forsake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But something ominous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in my heart, a dreadful ache,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Says, he is gone from us.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why do my bowels for him yearn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What ill has crossed his path?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blind, helpless, whither shall we turn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or how avert the wrath?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lord of my soul—what means my pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This horrid terror,—like<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some cloud that hides a hurricane;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hang not, O lightning,—strike!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus while she spake, the king drew near<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With haggard look and wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weighed down with grief, and pale with fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bearing the lifeless child.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rustled the dry leaves neath his foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And made an eerie sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A neighbouring owl began to hoot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All else was still around.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the first rustle of the leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The <i>Muni</i> answered clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Lo, here he is—oh wherefore grieves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy soul, my partner dear?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The words distinct, the monarch heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He could no further go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His nature to its depths was stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He stopped in speechless woe.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No steps advanced,—the sudden pause<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attention quickly drew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolled sightless orbs to learn the cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, hark!—the steps renew.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where art thou, darling—why so long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast thou delayed to-night?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We die of thirst,—we are not strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This fasting kills outright.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Speak to us, dear one,—only speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And calm our idle fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where hast thou been, and what to seek?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have pity on these tears."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With head bent low the monarch heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then came a cruel throb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tore his heart,—still not a word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only a stifled sob!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is not Sindhu—who art thou?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where is Sindhu gone?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's blood upon thy hands—avow!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"There is."—"Speak on, speak on."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dead child in their arms he placed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And briefly told his tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The parents their dead child embraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And kissed his forehead pale.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Our hearts are broken. Come, dear wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On earth no more we dwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now welcome Death, and farewell Life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou, O king, farewell!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We do not curse thee, God forbid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to my inner eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The future is no longer hid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou too shalt like us die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Die—for a son's untimely loss!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Die—with a broken heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now help us to our bed of moss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And let us both depart."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the moss he laid them down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And watched beside the bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death gently came and placed a crown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon each reverend head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the Sarayu's waves dash free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against a rocky bank,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The monarch had the corpses three<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conveyed by men of rank;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There honoured he with royal pomp<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their funeral obsequies,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Incense and sandal, drum and tromp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And solemn sacrifice.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is the sequel of the tale?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How died the king?—Oh man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A prophet's words can never fail—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go, read the Ramayan.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<h2>VIII.</h2> + +<h2>PREHLAD.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A terror both of gods and men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was Heerun Kasyapu, the king;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bear more sullen in its den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tiger quicker at the spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In strength of limb he had not met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since first his black flag he unfurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor in audacious courage, yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His equal in the wide, wide world.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The holy Veds he tore in shreds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Libations, sacrifices, rites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He made all penal; and the heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Bramins slain, he flung to kites,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"I hold the sceptre in my hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit upon the ivory throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bow down to me—'tis my command,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worship me, and me alone.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No god has ever me withstood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why raise ye altars?—cease your pains!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall protect you, give you food,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ye obey,—or else the chains."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled at such edicts, self-exiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bramins and the pundits wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live thenceforth in forests wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or caves in hills that touch the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In secret there, they altars raised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made oblations due by fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their gods, their wonted gods, they praised,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest these should earth destroy in ire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They read the Veds, they prayed and mused,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full well they knew that Time would bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For favours scorned, and gifts misused,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Undreamt of changes on his wing.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time changes deserts bare to meads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fertile meads to deserts bare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cities to pools, and pools with reeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To towns and cities large and fair.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Time changes purple into rags,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rags to purple. Chime by chime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether it flies, or runs, or drags—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wise wait patiently on Time.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time brought the tyrant children four,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rahd, Onoorahd, Prehlad, Sunghrad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who made his castle gray and hoar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once full of gloom, with sunshine glad.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No boys were e'er more beautiful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No brothers e'er loved more each other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sons were e'er more dutiful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ever kissed a fonder mother.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor less beloved were they of him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who gave them birth, Kasyapu proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But made by nature stern and grim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His love was covered by a cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From which it rarely e'er emerged,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gladden these sweet human flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They grew apace, and now Time urged<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The education of their powers.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who should their teacher be? A man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the flatterers in the court<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was found, well-suited to the plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tyrant had devised. Report<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave him a wisdom owned by few,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And certainly to trim his sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And veer his bark, none better knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before a changing adverse gale.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Sonda Marco,—such his name,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took home the four fair boys to teach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All knowledge that their years became,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Science, and war, and modes of speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he was told, if death he feared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to tell them of the soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of vows, and prayers, and rites revered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of the gods who all control.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sciences the boys were taught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They mastered with a quickness strange,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Prehlad was the one for thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He soared above the lesson's range.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One day the tutor unseen heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The boy discuss forbidden themes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if his inmost heart were stirred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he of truth from heaven had gleams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Prince, what mean'st thou?" In his fright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The teacher thus in private said—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Talk on such subjects is not right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wouldst thou bring ruin on my head?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are no gods except the king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ruler of the world is he!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look up to him, and do not bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destruction by a speech too free.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be wary for thy own sake, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If he should hear thee talking so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt for ever be exiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I shall die, full well I know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthy of worship, honour, praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is thy great father. Things unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What <i>are</i> they?—Themes of poets' lays!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They <i>are</i> not and have never been."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Smiling, the boy, with folded hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sign of a submission meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Answered his tutor. "Thy commands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are ever precious. Do not seek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lay upon me what I feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would be unrighteous. Let me hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those inner voices that reveal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long vistas in another sphere.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The gods that rule the earth and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I abjure them and adore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man? It may not, may not be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I should lie in pools of gore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My conscience I would hurt no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I shall follow what my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tells me is right, so I implore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My purpose fixed no longer thwart.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The coward calls black white, white black,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At bidding, or in fear of death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such suppleness, thank God, I lack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To die is but to lose my breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is death annihilation? No.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New worlds will open on my view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When persecuted hence I go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The right is right,—the true is true."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All's over now, the teacher thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now let this reach the monarch's ear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And instant death shall be my lot.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They parted, he in abject fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And soon he heard a choral song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung by young voices in the praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gods unseen, who right all wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rule the worlds from primal days.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What progress have thy charges made?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them be called, that I may see."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sonda Marco brought as bade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His pupils to the royal knee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three passed the monarch's test severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fourth remained: then spake the king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now, Prehlad, with attention hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know thou hast the strongest wing!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What is the cream of knowledge, child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which men take such great pains to learn?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With folded hands he answered mild:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Listen, O Sire! To speak I yearn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sciences are nothing worth,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Astronomy that tracks the star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Geography that maps the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Logic, and Politics, and War,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And Medicine, that strives to heal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But only aggravates disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All, all are futile,—so I feel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me, O father, none of these.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is true knowledge which can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glory of the living gods,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divest of pride, make men below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humble and happy, though but clods.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That is true knowledge which can make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Us mortals, saintlike, holy, pure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The strange thirst of the spirit slake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strengthen suffering to endure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is true knowledge which can change<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our very natures, with its glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sciences whate'er their range<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feed but the flesh, and make a show."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where hast thou learnt this nonsense, boy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where live these gods believed so great?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can they like me thy life destroy?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have they such troops and royal state?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above all gods is he who rules<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wide, wide earth, from sea to sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men, devils, gods,—yea, all but fools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bow down in fear and worship me!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And dares an atom from my loins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against my kingly power rebel?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though heaven itself to aid him joins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His end is death—the infidel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I warn thee yet,—bow down, thou slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And worship me, or thou shalt die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll see what gods descend to save—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What gods with me their strength will try!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus spake the monarch in his ire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One hand outstretched, in menace rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyes like blazing coals of fire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Prehlad, in unruffled mood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straight answered him; his head bent low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His palms joined meekly on his breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As ever, and his cheeks aglow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His rock-firm purpose to attest.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let not my words, Sire, give offence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee, and to my mother, both<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give as due all reverence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to obey thee am not loth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But higher duties sometimes clash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lower,—then these last must go,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or there will come a fearful crash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In lamentation, fear, and woe!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The gods who made us are the life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of living creatures, small and great;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see them not, but space is rife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their bright presence and their state.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are the parents of us all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis they create, sustain, redeem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven, earth and hell, they hold in thrall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shall we these high gods blaspheme?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Blest is the man whose heart obeys<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes their law of life his guide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He shall be led in all his ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His footsteps shall not ever slide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In forests dim, on raging seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In certain peace shall he abide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though he all the world displease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His gods shall all his wants provide!"<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cease, babbler! 'tis enough! I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy proud, rebellious nature well.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ho! Captain of our lifeguards, ho!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take down this lad to dungeon-cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid the executioner wait<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our orders." All unmoved and calm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He went, as reckless of his fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Erect and stately as a palm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hushed was the hall, as down he past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No breath, no whisper, not a sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through ranks of courtiers, all aghast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like beaten hounds that dare not whine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Outside the door, the Captain spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Recant," he said beneath his breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The lion's anger to provoke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is death, O prince, is certain death."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thanks," said the prince,—"I have revolved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The question in my mind with care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do what you will,—I am resolved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To do the right, all deaths I dare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gods, perhaps, may please to spare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tender years; if not,—why, still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never shall my faith forswear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can but say, be done their will."<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whether in pity for the youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The headsman would not rightly ply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weapon, or the gods in truth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had ordered that he should not die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon to the king there came report<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sword would not destroy his son,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The council held thereon was short,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The king's look frightened every one.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is a spell against cold steel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which known, the steel can work no harm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some sycophant with baneful zeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath taught this foolish boy the charm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It would be wise, O king, to deal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some other way, or else I fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much damage to the common weal."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus spake the wily-tongued vizier.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark frowned the king.—"Enough of this,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death, instant death, is my command!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go throw him down some precipice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or bury him alive in sand."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With terror dumb, from that wide hall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Departed all the courtier band,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not one man amongst them all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dared raise against the prince his hand.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now vague rumours ran around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men talked of them with bated breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river has a depth profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elephants trample down to death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poisons kill, the firebrands burn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had every means in turn been tried?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some said they had,—but soon they learn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brave young prince had not yet died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For once more in the Council-Hall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had been cited to appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas open to the public all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the people came in fear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Banners were hung along the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The King sat on his peacock throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now the hoary Marechal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brings in the youth,—bare skin and bone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who shall protect thee, Prehlad, now?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against steel, poison, water, fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art protected, men avow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who treason, if but bold, admire.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our own presence thou art brought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we and all may know the truth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are thy gods?—I long have sought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never found them, hapless youth.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Will they come down, to prove their strength?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will they come down, to rescue thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let them come down, for once, at length,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come one, or all, to fight with me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are thy gods? Or are they dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or do they hide in craven fear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There lies my gage. None ever said<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hide from any,—far or near."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My gracious Liege, my Sire, my King!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou indeed wouldst deign to hear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In humble mood, my words would spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a pellucid fountain clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have in my dungeon dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learnt more of truth than e'er I knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is one God—One only,—mark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Him is all our service due.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hath He a shape, or hath He none?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not this, nor care to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwelling in light, to which the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is darkness,—He sees all below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself unseen! In Him I trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can protect me if He will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if this body turn to dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can new life again instil.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I fear not fire, I fear not sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All dangers, father, I can dare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone, I can confront a horde,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oh! my God is everywhere!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What! everywhere? Then in this hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in this crystal pillar bright?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now tell me plain, before us all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is He herein, thy God of light?"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The monarch placed his steel-gloved hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a crystal pillar near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In mockful jest was his demand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The answer came, low, serious, clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Yes, father, God is even here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if He choose this very hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can strike us dead, with ghastly fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vindicate His name and power."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where is this God? Now let us see."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He spumed the pillar with his foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down, down it tumbled, like a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Severed by axes from the root,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from within, with horrid clang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That froze the blood in every vein,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stately sable warrior sprang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some phantasma of the brain.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He had a lion head and eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A human body, feet and hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Colossal,—such strange shapes arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In clouds, when Autumn rules the lands!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He gave a shout;—the boldest quailed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then struck the tyrant on the helm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ripped him down; and last, he hailed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prehlad as king of all the realm!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A thunder clap—the shape was gone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One king lay stiff, and stark, and dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another on the peacock throne<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bowed reverently his youthful head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loud rang the trumpets; louder still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sovereign people's wild acclaim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echoes ran from hill to hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Kings rule for us and in our name."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tyrants of every age and clime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remember this,—that awful shape<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall startle you when comes the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And send its voice from cape to cape.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As human, peoples suffer pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh, the lion strength is theirs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe to the king when galls the chain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe, woe, their fury when he dares!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p> +<h2>IX.</h2> + +<h2>SÎTA.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 22em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three happy children in a darkened room!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What do they gaze on with wide-open eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dense, dense forest, where no sunbeam pries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its centre a cleared spot.—There bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gigantic flowers on creepers that embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tall trees; there, in a quiet lucid lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white swans glide; there, "whirring from the brake,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peacock springs; there, herds of wild deer race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, patches gleam with yellow waving grain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, blue smoke from strange altars rises light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, dwells in peace, the poet-anchorite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who is this fair lady? Not in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She weeps,—for lo! at every tear she sheds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears from three pairs of young eyes fall amain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bowed in sorrow are the three young heads.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is an old, old story, and the lay<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Which has evoked sad Sîta from the past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is by a mother sung.... 'Tis hushed at last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And melts the picture from their sight away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet shall they dream of it until the day!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When shall those children by their mother's side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather, ah me! as erst at eventide?<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> +<h2>NEAR HASTINGS.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 18em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Near Hastings, on the shingle-beach,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We loitered at the time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ripens on the wall the peach,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The autumn's lovely prime.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far off,—the sea and sky seemed blent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day was wholly done,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The distant town its murmurs sent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strangers,—we were alone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We wandered slow; sick, weary, faint,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then one of us sat down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No nature hers, to make complaint;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shadows deepened brown.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lady past,—she was not young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But oh! her gentle face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No painter-poet ever sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or saw such saintlike grace.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She past us,—then she came again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Observing at a glance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we were strangers; one, in pain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then asked,—Were we from France?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We talked awhile,—some roses red<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That seemed as wet with tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gave my sister, and she said,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"God bless you both, my dears!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet were the roses,—sweet and full,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And large as lotus flowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in our own wide tanks we cull<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To deck our Indian bowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweeter was the love that gave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those flowers to one unknown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think that He who came to save<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gift a debt will own.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lady's name I do not know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her face no more may see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet, oh yet I love her so!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blest, happy, may she be!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her memory will not depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though grief my years should shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still bloom her roses in my heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they shall never fade!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h2>FRANCE.</h2> + +<h2>1870.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 19em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not dead,—oh no,—she cannot die!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only a swoon, from loss of blood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Levite England passes her by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Help, Samaritan! None is nigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who shall stanch me this sanguine flood?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Range the brown hair, it blinds her eyne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dash cold water over her face!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drowned in her blood, she makes no sign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give her a draught of generous wine.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">None heed, none hear, to do this grace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Head of the human column, thus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ever in swoon wilt thou remain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought, Freedom, Truth, quenched ominous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence then shall Hope arise for us,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Plunged in the darkness all again!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No, she stirs!—There's a fire in her glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ware, oh ware of that broken sword!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, dare ye for an hour's mischance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gather around her, jeering France,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attila's own exultant horde?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, she stands up,—stands up e'en now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strong once more for the battle-fray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleams bright the star, that from her brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lightens the world. Bow, nations, bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let her again lead on the way!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE TREE OF LIFE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 21em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Broad daylight, with a sense of weariness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes were closed, but I was not asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hand was in my father's, and I felt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His presence near me. Thus we often past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silence, hour by hour. What was the need<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of interchanging words when every thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in our hearts arose, was known to each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every pulse kept time? Suddenly there shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A strange light, and the scene as sudden changed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was awake:—It was an open plain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illimitable,—stretching, stretching—oh, so far!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er it that strange light,—a glorious light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like that the stars shed over fields of snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In a clear, cloudless, frosty winter night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only intenser in its brilliance calm.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the midst of that vast plain, I saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I was wide awake,—it was no dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tree with spreading branches and with leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of divers kinds,—dead silver and live gold,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Shimmering in radiance that no words may tell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the tree an Angel stood; he plucked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A few small sprays, and bound them round my head.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, the delicious touch of those strange leaves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer throbbed my brows, no more I felt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fever in my limbs—"And oh," I cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Bind too my father's forehead with these leaves."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One leaf the Angel took and therewith touched<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His forehead, and then gently whispered "Nay!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never, oh never had I seen a face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More beautiful than that Angel's, or more full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of holy pity and of love divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wondering I looked awhile,—then, all at once<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Opened my tear-dimmed eyes—When lo! the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was gone—the light as of the stars when snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lies deep upon the ground. No more, no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was seen the Angel's face. I only found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father watching patient by my bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And holding in his own, close-prest, my hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span></p> +<h2>ON THE FLY-LEAF OF ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN'S<br />NOVEL ENTITLED +"MADAME THÉRÈSE."</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 20em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wavered the foremost soldiers,—then fell back.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fallen was their leader, and loomed right before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sullen Prussian cannon, grim and black,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lighted matches waving. Now, once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Patriots and veterans!—Ah! 'Tis in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back they recoil, though bravest of the brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No human troops may stand that murderous rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who is this—that rushes to a grave?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is a woman,—slender, tall, and brown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She snatches up the standard as it falls,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her hot haste tumbles her dark hair down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the drummer-boy aloud she calls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beat the charge; then forwards on the <i>pont</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">They dash together;—who could bear to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman and a child, thus Death confront,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor burn to follow them to victory?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I read the story and my heart beats fast!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well might all Europe quail before thee, France,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battling against oppression! Years have past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet of that time men speak with moistened glance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Va-nu-pieds!</i> When rose high your Marseillaise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man knew his rights to earth's remotest bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tyrants trembled. Yours alone the praise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, had a Washington but then been found!<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET.—BAUGMAREE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 22em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sea of foliage girds our garden round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not a sea of dull unvaried green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sharp contrasts of all colours here are seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The light-green graceful tamarinds abound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amid the mangoe clumps of green profound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And palms arise, like pillars gray, between;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red,—red, and startling like a trumpet's sound.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nothing can be lovelier than the ranges<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of bamboos to the eastward, when the moon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks through their gaps, and the white lotus changes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into a cup of silver. One might swoon<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Drunken with beauty then, or gaze and gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i4">On a primeval Eden, in amaze.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> +<h2>SONNET.—THE LOTUS.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Love came to Flora asking for a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That would of flowers be undisputed queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lily and the rose, long, long had been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rivals for that high honour. Bards of power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had sung their claims. "The rose can never tower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the pale lily with her Juno mien"—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"But is the lily lovelier?" Thus between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flower-factions rang the strife in Psyche's bower.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Give me a flower delicious as the rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And stately as the lily in her pride"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"But of what colour?"—"Rose-red," Love first chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then prayed,—"No, lily-white,—or, both provide;"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Flora gave the lotus, "rose-red" dyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And "lily-white,"—the queenliest flower that blows.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span></p> +<h2>OUR CASUARINA TREE.</h2> + + +<div class="cpoem" style="width: 23em;"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a huge Python, winding round and round<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Up to its very summit near the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No other tree could live. But gallantly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In crimson clusters all the boughs among,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft at nights the garden overflows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With one sweet song that seems to have no close,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first my casement is wide open thrown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A grey baboon sits statue-like alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His puny offspring leap about and play;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And far and near kokilas hail the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By that hoar tree, so beautiful and vast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not because of its magnificence<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear is the Casuarina to my soul:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath it we have played; though years may roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O sweet companions, loved with love intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blent with your images, it shall arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the sea breaking on a shingle-beach?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the tree's lament, an eerie speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That haply to the unknown land may reach.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unknown, yet well-known to the eye of faith!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When slumbered in his cave the water-wraith<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the waves gently kissed the classic shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of France or Italy, beneath the moon,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When earth lay trancèd in a dreamless swoon:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And every time the music rose,—before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine inner vision rose a form sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy form, O Tree, as in my happy prime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I saw thee, in my own loved native clime.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Therefore I fain would consecrate a lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto thy honour, Tree, beloved of those<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who now in blessed sleep, for aye, repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dearer than life to me, alas! were they!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mayst thou be numbered when my days are done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With deathless trees—like those in Borrowdale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under whose awful branches lingered pale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Fear, trembling Hope, and Death, the skeleton,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Time the shadow;" and though weak the verse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That would thy beauty fain, oh fain rehearse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May Love defend thee from Oblivion's curse.<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class="center"><small>CHISWICK PRESS:<br /> +C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT,<br /> +CHANCERY LANE.</small></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="trans1"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note. +Archaic spellings have been retained. Punctuation has been normalised.</div> + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ancient Ballads and Legends of +Hindustan, by Toru Dutt + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANCIENT BALLADS AND LEGENDS *** + +***** This file should be named 23245-h.htm or 23245-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/2/4/23245/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Stephen Blundell and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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