The Light of Asia | Page 4

yet of grief than that one bird's,?Which, being healed, went joyous to its kind.?But on another day the King said, "Come,?Sweet son! and see the pleasaunce of the spring,?And how the fruitful earth is wooed to yield?Its riches to the reaper; how my realm--?Which shall be thine when the pile flames for me--?Feeds all its mouths and keeps the King's chest filled.?Fair is the season with new leaves, bright blooms,?Green grass, and cries of plough-time." So they rode?Into a lane of wells and gardens, where,?All up and down the rich red loam, the steers?Strained their strong shoulders in the creaking yoke?Dragging the ploughs; the fat soil rose and rolled?In smooth dark waves back from the plough; who drove?Planted both feet upon the leaping share?To make the furrow deep; among the palms?The tinkle of the rippling water rang,?And where it ran the glad earth 'broidered it?With balsams and the spears of lemon-grass.?Elsewhere were sowers who went forth to sow;?And all the jungle laughed with nesting-songs,?And all the thickets rustled with small life?Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things?Pleased at the spring-time. In the mango-sprays?The sun-birds flashed; alone at his green forge?Toiled the loud coppersmith; bee-eaters hawked?Chasing the purple butterflies; beneath,?Striped squirrels raced, the mynas perked and picked,?The nine brown sisters chattered in the thorn,?The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool,?The egrets stalked among the buffaloes,?The kites sailed circles in the golden air;?About the painted temple peacocks flew,?The blue doves cooed from every well, far off?The village drums beat for some marriage-feast;?All things spoke peace and plenty, and the Prince?Saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw?The thorns which grow upon this rose of life?How the sweat peasant sweated for his wage,?Toiling for leave to live; and how he urged?The great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours,?Goading their velvet flanks: then marked he, too,?How lizard fed on ant, and snake on him,?And kite on both; and how the fish-hawk robbed?The fish-tiger of that which it had seized;?The shrike chasing the bulbul, which did chase?The jewelled butterflies; till everywhere?Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain,?Life living upon death. So the fair show?Veiled one vast, savage, grim conspiracy?Of mutual murder, from the worm to man,?Who himself kills his fellow; seeing which--?The hungry ploughman and his labouring kine,?Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke,?The rage to live which makes all living strife--?The Prince Siddartha sighed. "In this," he said,?"That happy earth they brought me forth to see??How salt with sweat the peasant's bread! how hard?The oxen's service! in the brake how fierce?The war of weak and strong! i' th' air what plots!?No refuge e'en in water. Go aside?A space, and let me muse on what ye show."?So saying, the good Lord Buddha seated him?Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed--?As holy statues sit--and first began?To meditate this deep disease of life,?What its far source and whence its remedy.?So vast a pity filled him, such wide love?For living things, such passion to heal pain,?That by their stress his princely spirit passed?To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint?Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat?Dhyana, first step of "the path."
There flew?High overhead that hour five holy ones,?Whose free wings faltered as they passed the tree.?"What power superior draws us from our flight?"?They asked, for spirits feel all force divine,?And know the sacred presence of the pure.?Then, looking downward, they beheld the Buddh?Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent?On thoughts to save; while from the grove a voice?Cried, "Rishis! this is He shall help the world,?Descend and worship." So the Bright Ones came?And sang a song of praise, folding their wings,?Then journeyed on, taking good news to Gods.
But certain from the King seeking the Prince?Found him still musing, though the noon was past,?And the sun hastened to the western hills?Yet, while all shadows moved, the jambu-tree's?Stayed in one quarter, overspreading him,?Lest the sloped rays should strike that sacred head;?And he who saw this sight heard a voice say,?Amid the blossoms of the rose-apple,?"Let be the King's son! till the shadow goes?Forth from his heart my shadow will not shift."
Book The Second
Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen years,?The King commanded that there should be built?Three stately houses, one of hewn square beams?With cedar lining, warm for winter days;?One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat;?And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles bedecked,?Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks bud--?Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names.?Delicious gardens round about them bloomed,?Streams wandered wild and musky thickets stretched,?With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn?In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will,?Some new delight provided every hour;?And happy hours he knew, for life was rich,?With youthful blood at quickest; yet still came?The shadows of his meditation back,?As the lake's silver dulls with driving clouds.
Which the King marking, called his Ministers:?"Bethink ye, sirs I how the old Rishi spake,"?He said, "and what