Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan Part 10

PREHLAD.

A terror both of G.o.ds and men Was Heerun Kasyapu, the king; No bear more sullen in its den, No tiger quicker at the spring.

In strength of limb he had not met, Since first his black flag he unfurled, Nor in audacious courage, yet, His equal in the wide, wide world.

The holy Veds he tore in shreds; Libations, sacrifices, rites, He made all penal; and the heads Of Bramins slain, he flung to kites, "I hold the sceptre in my hand, I sit upon the ivory throne, Bow down to me--'tis my command, And worship me, and me alone.

"No G.o.d has ever me withstood, Why raise ye altars?--cease your pains!

I shall protect you, give you food, If ye obey,--or else the chains."

Fled at such edicts, self-exiled, The Bramins and the pundits wise, To live thenceforth in forests wild, Or caves in hills that touch the skies.

In secret there, they altars raised, And made oblations due by fire, Their G.o.ds, their wonted G.o.ds, they praised, Lest these should earth destroy in ire; They read the Veds, they prayed and mused, Full well they knew that Time would bring For favours scorned, and gifts misused, Undreamt of changes on his wing.

Time changes deserts bare to meads, And fertile meads to deserts bare, Cities to pools, and pools with reeds To towns and cities large and fair.

Time changes purple into rags, And rags to purple. Chime by chime, Whether it flies, or runs, or drags-- The wise wait patiently on Time.

Time brought the tyrant children four, Rahd, Onoorahd, Prehlad, Sunghrad, Who made his castle gray and h.o.a.r, Once full of gloom, with sunshine glad.

No boys were e'er more beautiful, No brothers e'er loved more each other, No sons were e'er more dutiful, Nor ever kissed a fonder mother.

Nor less beloved were they of him Who gave them birth, Kasyapu proud, But made by nature stern and grim, His love was covered by a cloud From which it rarely e'er emerged, To gladden these sweet human flowers.

They grew apace, and now Time urged The education of their powers.

Who should their teacher be? A man Among the flatterers in the court Was found, well-suited to the plan The tyrant had devised. Report Gave him a wisdom owned by few, And certainly to trim his sail, And veer his bark, none better knew, Before a changing adverse gale.

And Sonda Marco,--such his name,-- Took home the four fair boys to teach All knowledge that their years became, Science, and war, and modes of speech, But he was told, if death he feared, Never to tell them of the soul, Of vows, and prayers, and rites revered, And of the G.o.ds who all control.

The sciences the boys were taught They mastered with a quickness strange, But Prehlad was the one for thought, He soared above the lesson's range.

One day the tutor unseen heard The boy discuss forbidden themes, As if his inmost heart were stirred, And he of truth from heaven had gleams.

"O Prince, what mean'st thou?" In his fright The teacher thus in private said-- "Talk on such subjects is not right, Wouldst thou bring ruin on my head?

There are no G.o.ds except the king, The ruler of the world is he!

Look up to him, and do not bring Destruction by a speech too free.

"Be wary for thy own sake, child, If he should hear thee talking so, Thou shalt for ever be exiled, And I shall die, full well I know.

Worthy of worship, honour, praise, Is thy great father. Things unseen, What _are_ they?--Themes of poets' lays!

They _are_ not and have never been."

Smiling, the boy, with folded hands, As sign of a submission meek, Answered his tutor. "Thy commands Are ever precious. Do not seek To lay upon me what I feel Would be unrighteous. Let me hear Those inner voices that reveal Long vistas in another sphere.

"The G.o.ds that rule the earth and sea, Shall I abjure them and adore A man? It may not, may not be; Though I should lie in pools of gore My conscience I would hurt no more; But I shall follow what my heart Tells me is right, so I implore My purpose fixed no longer thwart.

"The coward calls black white, white black, At bidding, or in fear of death; Such suppleness, thank G.o.d, I lack, To die is but to lose my breath.

Is death annihilation? No.

New worlds will open on my view, When persecuted hence I go, The right is right,--the true is true."

All's over now, the teacher thought, Now let this reach the monarch's ear!

And instant death shall be my lot.

They parted, he in abject fear.

And soon he heard a choral song Sung by young voices in the praise Of G.o.ds unseen, who right all wrong, And rule the worlds from primal days.

"What progress have thy charges made?

Let them be called, that I may see."

And Sonda Marco brought as bade His pupils to the royal knee.

Three pa.s.sed the monarch's test severe, The fourth remained: then spake the king, "Now, Prehlad, with attention hear, I know thou hast the strongest wing!

"What is the cream of knowledge, child, Which men take such great pains to learn?"

With folded hands he answered mild: "Listen, O Sire! To speak I yearn.

All sciences are nothing worth,-- Astronomy that tracks the star, Geography that maps the earth, Logic, and Politics, and War,--

"And Medicine, that strives to heal But only aggravates disease, All, all are futile,--so I feel, For me, O father, none of these.

That is true knowledge which can show The glory of the living G.o.ds,-- Divest of pride, make men below Humble and happy, though but clods.

"That is true knowledge which can make Us mortals, saintlike, holy, pure, The strange thirst of the spirit slake And strengthen suffering to endure.

That is true knowledge which can change Our very natures, with its glow; The sciences whate'er their range Feed but the flesh, and make a show."

"Where hast thou learnt this nonsense, boy?

Where live these G.o.ds believed so great?

Can they like me thy life destroy?

Have they such troops and royal state?

Above all G.o.ds is he who rules The wide, wide earth, from sea to sea, Men, devils, G.o.ds,--yea, all but fools Bow down in fear and worship me!

"And dares an atom from my loins Against my kingly power rebel?

Though heaven itself to aid him joins, His end is death--the infidel!

I warn thee yet,--bow down, thou slave, And worship me, or thou shalt die!

We'll see what G.o.ds descend to save-- What G.o.ds with me their strength will try!"

Thus spake the monarch in his ire, One hand outstretched, in menace rude, And eyes like blazing coals of fire.

And Prehlad, in unruffled mood Straight answered him; his head bent low, His palms joined meekly on his breast As ever, and his cheeks aglow His rock-firm purpose to attest.

"Let not my words, Sire, give offence, To thee, and to my mother, both I give as due all reverence, And to obey thee am not loth.

But higher duties sometimes clash With lower,--then these last must go,-- Or there will come a fearful crash In lamentation, fear, and woe!

"The G.o.ds who made us are the life Of living creatures, small and great; We see them not, but s.p.a.ce is rife With their bright presence and their state.

They are the parents of us all, 'Tis they create, sustain, redeem, Heaven, earth and h.e.l.l, they hold in thrall, And shall we these high G.o.ds blaspheme?

"Blest is the man whose heart obeys And makes their law of life his guide, He shall be led in all his ways, His footsteps shall not ever slide; In forests dim, on raging seas, In certain peace shall he abide, What though he all the world displease, His G.o.ds shall all his wants provide!"

"Cease, babbler! 'tis enough! I know Thy proud, rebellious nature well.

Ho! Captain of our lifeguards, ho!

Take down this lad to dungeon-cell, And bid the executioner wait Our orders." All unmoved and calm, He went, as reckless of his fate, Erect and stately as a palm.

Hushed was the hall, as down he past, No breath, no whisper, not a sign, Through ranks of courtiers, all aghast Like beaten hounds that dare not whine.

Outside the door, the Captain spoke, "Recant," he said beneath his breath; "The lion's anger to provoke Is death, O prince, is certain death."

"Thanks," said the prince,--"I have revolved The question in my mind with care, Do what you will,--I am resolved, To do the right, all deaths I dare.

The G.o.ds, perhaps, may please to spare My tender years; if not,--why, still I never shall my faith forswear, I can but say, be done their will."

Whether in pity for the youth, The headsman would not rightly ply The weapon, or the G.o.ds in truth Had ordered that he should not die, Soon to the king there came report The sword would not destroy his son, The council held thereon was short, The king's look frightened every one.