Part 8

Then Bhalluk told Such as the people of the valleys knew Of that dread night of conflict, when the air Darkened with fiendish shadows, and the earth Quaked, and the waters swelled with Mara's wrath. Also how gloriously that morning broke Radiant with rising hopes for man, and how The Lord was found rejoicing 'neath his Tree. But many days the burden of release-- To be escaped beyond all storms of doubt, Safe on Truth's shore--lay, spake he, on that heart A golden load; for how shall men--Buddh mused-- Who love their sins and cleave to cheats of sense, And drink of error from a thousand springs-- Having no mind to see, nor strength to break The fleshly snare which binds them--how should such Receive the Twelve Nidanas and the Law Redeeming all, yet strange to profit by, As the caged bird oft shuns its open door? So had we missed the helpful victory If, in this earth without a refuge, Buddh Winning the way had deemed it all too hard For mortal feet, and passed, none following him. Yet pondered the compassion of our Lord, But in that hour there rang a voice as sharp As cry of travail, so as if the earth Moaned in birth-throe "Nasyami aham bhu Nasyati loka! Surely I Am Lost, I And My Creatures:" then a pause, and next A pleading sigh borne on the western wind, "Sruyatam dharma, Bhagwat!" Oh, Supreme Let Thy Great Law Be Uttered! Whereupon The Master cast his vision forth on flesh, Saw who should hear and who must wait to hear, As the keen Sun gilding the lotus-lakes Seeth which buds will open to his beams And which are not yet risen from their roots; Then spake, divinely smiling, "Yea, I preach! Whoso will listen let him learn the Law."

Afterwards passed he, said they, by the hills Unto Benares, where he taught the Five, Showing how birth and death should be destroyed, And how man hath no fate except past deeds, No Hell but what he makes, no Heaven too high For those to reach whose passions sleep subdued. This was the fifteenth day of Vaishya Mid-afternoon and that night was full moon.

But, of the Rishis, first Kaundinya Owned the Four Truths and entered on the Paths; And after him Bhadraka, Asvajit, Bassav, Mahanama; also there Within the Deer-park, at the feet of Buddh, Yasad the Prince with nobles fifty-four Hearing the blessed word our Master spake Worshipped and followed; for there sprang up peace And knowledge of a new time come for men In all who heard, as spring the flowers and grass When water sparkles through a sandy plain.

These sixty--said they--did our Lord send forth, Made perfect in restraint and passion-free, To teach the Way; but the World-honoured turned South from the Deer-park and Isipatan To Yashti and King Bimbasara's realm, Where many days he taught; and after these King Bimbasara and his folk believed, Learning the law of love and ordered life. Also he gave the Master, of free gift-- Pouring forth water on the hands of Buddh-- The Bamboo-Garden, named Weluvana, Wherein are streams and caves and lovely glades; And the King set a stone there, carved with this:

"Ye dharma hetuppabhawa Yesan hetun Tathagato; Aha yesan cha yo nirodho Ewan wadi Maha samano.

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

And, in that Garden--said they--there was held A high Assembly, where the Teacher spake Wisdom and power, winning all souls which heard, So that nine hundred took the yellow robe-- Such as the Master wears,--and spread his Law; And this the gatha was wherewith he closed:

Sabba papassa akaranan; Kusalassa upasampada; Sa chitta pariyodapanan; Etan Budhanusasanan.

"Evil swells the debts to pay, Good delivers and acquits; Shun evil, follow good; hold sway Over thyself. This is the Way."

Whom, when they ended, speaking so of him, With gifts, and thanks which made the jewels dull, The Princess recompensed. "But by what road Wendeth my Lord?" she asked: the merchants said, "Yojans threescore stretch from the city-walls To Rajagriha, whence the easy path Passeth by Sona hither and the hills. Our oxen, treading eight slow koss a day, Came in one moon."

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

Then meekly bowed his head and spake our Lord Before the people: "Surely I shall go! It is my duty as it was my will; Let no man miss to render reverence To those who lend him life, whereby come means To live and die no more, but safe attain Blissful Nirvana, if ye keep the Law, Purging past wrongs and adding nought thereto, Complete in love and lovely charities. Let the King know and let the Princess hear I take the way forthwith." This told, the folk Of white Kapilavastu and its fields Made ready for the entrance of their Prince. At the south gate a bright pavilion rose With flower-wreathed pillars and the walls of silk Wrought on their red and green with woven gold. Also the roads were laid with scented boughs Of neem and mango, and full mussuks shed Sandal and jasmine on the dust, and flags Fluttered; and on the day when he should come It was ordained how many elephants-- With silver howdahs and their tusks gold-tipped-- Should wait beyond the ford, and where the drums Should boom "Siddartha cometh!" where the lords Should light and worship, and the dancing-girls Where they should strew their flowers with dance and song So that the steed he rode might tramp knee-deep In rose and balsam, and the ways be fair; While the town rang with music and high joy. This was ordained and all men's ears were pricked Dawn after dawn to catch the first drum's beat Announcing, "Now he cometh!" But it fell Eager to be before--Yasodhara Rode in her litter to the city-walls Where soared the bright pavilion. All around A beauteous garden smiled--Nigrodha named-- Shaded with bel-trees and the green-plumed dates, New-trimmed and gay with winding walks and banks Of fruits and flowers; for the southern road Skirted its lawns, on this hand leaf and bloom, On that the suburb-huts where base-borns dwelt Outside the gates, a patient folk and poor, Whose touch for Kshatriya and priest of Brahm Were sore defilement. Yet those, too, were quick With expectation, rising ere the dawn To peer along the road, to climb the trees At far-off trumpet of some elephant, Or stir of temple-drum; and when none came, Busied with lowly chores to please the Prince; Sweeping their door-stones, setting forth their flags, Stringing the fruited fig-leaves into chains, New furbishing the Lingam, decking new Yesterday's faded arc of boughs, but aye Questioning wayfarers if any noise Be on the road of great Siddartha. These The Princess marked with lovely languid eyes, Watching, as they, the southward plain and bent Like them to listen if the passers gave News of the path. So fell it she beheld One slow approaching with his head close shorn, A yellow cloth over his shoulder cast, Girt as the hermits are, and in his hand An earthen bowl, shaped melonwise, the which Meekly at each hut-door he held a space, Taking the granted dole with gentle thanks And all as gently passing where none gave. Two followed him wearing the yellow robe, But he who bore the bowl so lordly seemed, So reverend, and with such a passage moved, With so commanding presence filled the air, With such sweet eyes of holiness smote all, That as they reached him alms the givers gazed Awestruck upon his face, and some bent down In worship, and some ran to fetch fresh gifts, Grieved to be poor; till slowly, group by group, Children and men and women drew behind Into his steps, whispering with covered lips, "Who is he? who? when looked a Rishi thus?" But as he came with quiet footfall on Nigh the pavilion, lo! the silken door Lifted, and, all unveiled, Yasodhara Stood in his path crying, "Siddartha! Lord!" With wide eyes streaming and with close-clasped hands, Then sobbing fell upon his feet, and lay.

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

But when the King heard how Siddartha came Shorn, with the mendicant's sad-coloured cloth, And stretching out a bowl to gather orts From base-borns' leavings, wrathful sorrow drove Love from his heart. Thrice on the ground he spat, Plucked at his silvered beard, and strode straight forth Lackeyed by trembling lords. Frowning he clomb Upon his war-horse, drove the spurs, and dashed, Angered, through wondering streets and lanes of folk. Scarce finding breath to say, "The King! bow down!" Ere the loud cavalcade had clattered by: Which--at the turning by the Temple-wall Where the south gate was seen--encountered full A mighty crowd; to every edge of it Poured fast more people, till the roads were lost, Blotted by that huge company which thronged And grew, close following him whose look serene Met the old King's. Nor lived the father's wrath Longer than while the gentle eyes of Buddh Lingered in worship on his troubled brows, Then downcast sank, with his true knee, to earth In proud humility. So dear it seemed To see the Prince, to know him whole, to mark That glory greater than of earthly state Crowning his head, that majesty which brought All men, so awed and silent, in his steps. Nathless the King broke forth: "Ends it in this, That great Siddartha steals into his realm, Wrapped in a clout, shorn, sandalled, craving food Of low-borns, he whose life was as a god's, My son! heir of this spacious power, and heir Of Kings who did but clap their palms to have What earth could give or eager service bring? Thou should'st have come apparelled in thy rank, With shining spears and tramp of horse and foot. Lo! all my soldiers camped upon the road, And all my city waited at the gates; Where hast thou sojourned through these evil years Whilst thy crowned father mourned? and she, too, there Lived as the widows use, foregoing joys; Never once hearing sound of song or string, Nor wearing once the festal robe, till now When in her cloth of gold she welcomes home A beggar spouse in yellow remnants clad. Son! why is this?"

"My father!" came reply, "It is the custom of my race."

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

"Not of a mortal line," the Master said, "I spake, but of descent invisible, The Buddhas who have been and who shall be: Of these am I, and what they did I do, And this which now befalls so fell before, That at his gate a King in warrior-mail Should meet his son, a Prince in hermit-weeds; And that, by love and self-control, being more Than mightiest Kings in all their puissance, The appointed Helper of the Worlds should bow-- As now do I--and with all lowly love Proffer, where it is owed for tender debts, The first-fruits of the treasure he hath brought; Which now I proffer."

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

Book The Eighth

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

Lo! ye shall read it in the Sacred Books How, being met in that glad pleasaunce-place-- A garden in old days with hanging walks, Fountains, and tanks, and rose-banked terraces Girdled by gay pavilions and the sweep Of stately palace-fronts--the Master sate Eminent, worshipped, all the earnest throng Catching the opening of his lips to learn That wisdom which hath made our Asia mild; Whereto four hundred crores of living souls Witness this day. Upon the King's right hand He sate, and round were ranged the Sakya Lords Ananda, Devadatta--all the Court. Behind stood Seriyut and Mugallan, chiefs Of the calm brethren in the yellow garb, A goodly company. Between his knees Rahula smiled with wondering childish eyes Bent on the awful face, while at his feet Sate sweet Yasodhara, her heartaches gone, Foreseeing that fair love which doth not feed On fleeting sense, that life which knows no age, That blessed last of deaths when Death is dead, His victory and hers. Wherefore she laid Her hand upon his hands, folding around Her silver shoulder-cloth his yellow robe, Nearest in all the world to him whose words The Three Worlds waited for. I cannot tell A small part of the splendid lore which broke From Buddha's lips: I am a late-come scribe Who love the Master and his love of men, And tell this legend, knowing he was wise, But have not wit to speak beyond the books; And time hath blurred their script and ancient sense, Which once was new and mighty, moving all. A little of that large discourse I know Which Buddha spake on the soft Indian eve. Also I know it writ that they who heard Were more--lakhs more--crores more--than could be seen, For all the Devas and the Dead thronged there, Till Heaven was emptied to the seventh zone And uttermost dark Hells opened their bars; Also the daylight lingered past its time In rose-leaf radiance on the watching peaks, So that it seemed night listened in the glens, And noon upon the mountains; yea! they write, The evening stood between them like some maid Celestial, love-struck, rapt; the smooth-rolled clouds Her braided hair; the studded stars the pearls And diamonds of her coronal; the moon Her forehead jewel, and the deepening dark Her woven garments. 'T was her close-held breath Which came in scented sighs across the lawns While our Lord taught, and, while he taught, who heard-- Though he were stranger in the land, or slave, High caste or low, come of the Aryan blood, Or Mlech or Jungle-dweller--seemed to hear What tongue his fellows talked. Nay, outside those Who crowded by the river, great and small, The birds and beasts and creeping things--'t is writ-- Had sense of Buddha's vast embracing love And took the promise of his piteous speech; So that their lives--prisoned in shape of ape, Tiger, or deer, shagged bear, jackal, or wolf, Foul-feeding kite, pearled dove, or peacock gemmed, Squat toad, or speckled serpent, lizard, bat, Yea, or of fish fanning the river waves-- Touched meekly at the skirts of brotherhood With man who hath less innocence than these; And in mute gladness knew their bondage broke Whilst Buddha spake these things before the King:

Om, Amitaya! measure not with words Th' Immeasurable; nor sink the string of thought Into the Fathomless. Who asks doth err, Who answers, errs. Say nought!

The Books teach Darkness was, at first of all, And Brahm, sole meditating in that Night; Look not for Brahm and the Beginning there! Nor him, nor any light

Shall any gazer see with mortal eyes, Or any searcher know by mortal mind, Veil after veil will lift--but there must be Veil upon veil behind.

Stars sweep and question not. This is enough That life and death and joy and woe abide; And cause and sequence, and the course of time, And Being's ceaseless tide,

Which, ever-changing, runs, linked like a river By ripples following ripples, fast or slow-- The same yet not the same--from far-off fountain To where its waters flow

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

This is enough to know, the phantasms are; The Heavens, Earths, Worlds, and changes changing them A mighty whirling wheel of strife and stress Which none can stay or stem.

Pray not! the Darkness will not brighten! Ask Nought from the Silence, for it cannot speak! Vex not your mournful minds with pious pains! Ah! Brothers, Sisters! seek

Nought from the helpless gods by gift and hymn, Nor bribe with blood, nor feed with fruit and cakes; Within yourselves deliverance must be sought; Each man his prison makes.

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

## Act maketh joy and woe.

What hath been bringeth what shall be, and is, Worse--better--last for first and first for last; The Angels in the Heavens of Gladness reap Fruits of a holy past.

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

Who toiled a slave may come anew a Prince For gentle worthiness and merit won; Who ruled a King may wander earth in rags For things done and undone.