Mârkandeya Purâna, books 7, 8 | Page 4

Rev. B. Hale Wortham
grief and pain,
Seeing her
husband's misery. When the boy
Beheld his parents lying on the
ground,
He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
Mother! my
tongue is parched with thirst!" Meanwhile
Upon the scene the mighty
Brâhman came;
And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--

Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
"Rise up! rise up! Pay me
the promised vow;
For this thy misery from day to day
Increases,
and will yet increase, until
The debt be paid." The water's cooling
touch
Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
But when he
saw the Brâhman, faintness seized
His limbs again. Then
overpowering rage
Seized Višvâmitra; but before he left,
The best
of Brâhmans said: "If what is just,
Or right, or true, enters thy mind,
O king!
Give me the present. Lo! by truth divine
The sun sends
forth his vivifying rays
Upon the earth. By truth this mighty world

Stands firm and steadfast. Truth all law excels.

By truth the very
heaven itself exists.
Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale

Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
And sacrifices countless,
still the truth
Would far outweigh them all. Why need I waste
My
words of loving-kindness upon thee--
An ill-intentioned, false,
ignoble man.
Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
With thee.
Yet hear me;--if the offering
Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun

has sunk
Behind the western mountain to his rest,
My curse shall
smite thee." Speaking words like these
The Brâhman left him; and the
king, o'ercome
With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--

Degraded to unfathomable depths--
The victim of his evil creditor--

Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
"O king! sell _me_! nor
let the fiery curse
Dissolve thy being!" Urged repeatedly,
The king
at length replied: "Most loving one!
What the most wicked man could
hardly do,
That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
Alas! that I
should utter such a word!"
And going with his wife into the town--

Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
"Come
hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
A wretch! inhuman! savage as a
fiend!
I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
I live! Here is a female
slave! Who buys?
Make haste and speak." "The female slave is
mine!"
(So spake an ancient Brâhman to the king.)
"Money I have
in heaps, and I will pay
You well for her. My wife is delicate;
Her
household duties are beyond her strength;
I want a slave, and
therefore I will give
A price proportioned to the woman's skill
And
temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
And beauty. What you think is
fair and right,
That will I pay." Struck dumb with grief, the king

Stood mute, nor answered aught. And then the priest,
Tying the price
in the king's garment-hem--
His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped
the queen,
And dragged her off. But when the loving child
Beheld
his mother led away, he seized
Her by her garment. And the queen
exclaimed:
"If only for a moment, noble sir!
Oh! let me go! that I
may gaze once more
Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
And
never touch again! My child, behold
Thy mother, now a slave! And
thou--a prince!
Oh, touch me not! My lot of servitude
Forbids that
thou should'st touch me." But the child,
His eyes bedewed with tears,
ran after her,
Calling her "Mother!" As the boy came near,
The
Brâhman spurned him with his foot; but he
Still following close
would not be torn from her,
Calling her "Mother!" "Oh, my lord! I
pray,
Be gracious to me!" said the queen. "Oh, buy
My son with me;
divide us not! For I
Without him shall be nought of use to you.
Be

gracious, O my lord!" Then said the priest:
"Here! take the money!
give the boy to me!
The saints, who know the scriptures, have
ordained
The right and lawful sum. Take it!" He tied
The money in
the king's bark dress, and led
Them both away--the mother and the
child--
Together bound. But when the king beheld
Himself bereft of
both his wife and son,
He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither
sun,
Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
Been kept from
vulgar gaze! Alas I a slave
Hast thou become! Alas! thou, too, my
son!--
A scion of the noble dynasty,
Sprung from the sun! disgrace
has seized on thee,
And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
Ye
have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
Have fallen. Would
that I were dead!" Thus spoke
The king. Meanwhile the Brâhman
hastily
Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
And vanished
with his slaves. Then met the king
The Brâhman Višvâmitra.
"Prince!" he said,
Pay me the offering!" Harišchandra gave
The
money gainèd by the shameful sale
Of wife and child. And when the
priest beheld
The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
"How
canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
Base Kshatriya! And
thinkest thou that this
Suffices for a sacrificial gift
Such as I would
accept? But if thy mind
Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my
power--
Power transcendant, gained by penances,
And scripture
meditation. Yes! the power
Of my pure Brâhmanhood shall show
itself
On thee." "More will I give thee," said the king,
"But wait,
most noble saint! Nought have I left!
Even my wife and child are
sold." Replied
The Brâhman: "Hold! be
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