The Dawn and the Day Part 4

But when corrupt, Pandora's box itself, Whence spring all human ills and woes and crimes, The very fire that lights the flames of h.e.l.l.

The festival is past. The crowds have gone, The diligent to their accustomed round Of works and days, works to each day a.s.signed, The thoughtless and the thriftless mult.i.tude To meet their tasks haphazard as they come, But all the same old story to repeat Of cares and sorrows sweetened by some joys.

Three days the sweet Yasodhara remained, For her long journey taking needful rest.

But when the rosy dawn next tinged the east And lit the mountain-tops and filled the park With a great burst of rich and varied song, The good old king bade the sweet girl farewell, Imprinting on her brow a loving kiss, While welling up from tender memories Big tear-drops trickled down his furrowed cheeks.

And as her train, escorted by the prince And n.o.ble youth, wound slowly down the hill, The rising sun with glory gilds the city That like a diadem circled its brow, While giant shadows stretch across the plain; And when they reach the plain they halt for rest Deep in a garden's cooling shade, where flowers That fill the air with grateful fragrance hang By ripening fruits, and where all seems at rest Save two young hearts and tiny tireless birds That dart from flower to newer to suck their sweets, And even the brook that babbled down the hill Now murmurs dreamily as if asleep.

Sweet spot! sweet hour! how quick its moments fly!

How soon the cooling winds and sinking sun And bustling stir of preparation tells 'Tis time for her to go; and when they part, The gentle pressure of the hand, one kiss-- A kiss not given yet not resisted--tells A tale of love that words are poor to tell.

And when she goes how lonely seems her way Through groves, through fields, through busy haunts of men; And as he climbs the hill and often stops To watch her lessening train until at length Her elephant seems but a moving speck, Proud Kantaka, pawing and neighing, asks As plain as men could ever ask in, words: "What makes my master choose this laggard pace?"

At length she climbs those rocky, rugged hills.

That guarded well the loveliest spot on earth Until the Moguls centuries after came, Like swarms of locusts swept before the wind, Or ravening wolves, to conquer fair Cashmere.[4]

And when she reached the top, before her lay, As on a map spread out, her native land, By lofty mountains walled on every side, From winds, from wars, and from the world shut out; The same great snow-capped mountains north and east In silent, glittering, awful grandeur stand, And west the same bold, rugged, cliff-crowned hills.

That filled her eyes with wonder when a child.

Below the snow a belt of deepest green; Below this belt of green great rolling hills, Checkered with orchards, vineyards, pastures, fields, The vale beneath peaceful as sleeping babe, The city nestling round the shining lake, And near the park and palace, her sweet home.

O n.o.ble, peaceful, beautiful Cashmere!

Well named the garden of eternal spring!

But yet, with home and all its joys so near.

She often turned and strained her eager eyes To catch one parting glimpse of that sweet spot Where more than half of her young heart was left.

At length their horns, whose mocking echoes Rolled from hill to hill, were answered from below, While from the park a gay procession comes, Increasing as it moves, to welcome her, Light of the palace, the people's idol, home.

The prince's thoughts by day and dreams by night Meanwhile were filled with sweet Yasodhara, And this bright vision ever hovering near Hid from his eyes those grim and ghastly forms, Night-loving and light-shunning brood of sin, That ever haunt poor fallen human lives, And from the darkened corners of the soul Are quick to sting each pleasure with sharp pain, To pour some bitter in life's sweetest cup, And shadow with despair its brightest hopes-- Made him forget how sorrow fills the world, How strength is used to crush and not to raise, How creeds are bandages to blind men's eyes, Lest they should see and walk in duty's path That leads to peace on earth and joy in heaven, And even made him for the time forget His n.o.ble mission to restore and save.

He sought her for his bride, but waited long, For princes cannot wed like common folk-- Friends called, a feast prepared, some bridal gifts, Some tears at parting and some solemn vows, Rice scattered, slippers thrown with noisy mirth, And common folk are joined till death shall part.

Till death shall part! O faithless, cruel thought!

Death ne'er shall part souls joined by holy love, Who through life's trials, joys and cares Have to each other clung, faithful till death, Tender and true in sickness and in health, Bearing each other's burdens, sharing griefs, Lightening each care and heightening every joy.

Such life is but a transient honeymoon, A feeble foretaste of eternal joys.

But princes when they love, though all approve, Must wait on councils, emba.s.sies and forms.

But how the coach of state lumbers and lags With messages of love whose own light wings Glide through all bars, outstrip all fleetest things-- No bird so light, no thought so fleet as they.

But while the prince chafed at the long delay, The sweet Yasodhara began to feel The bitter pangs of unrequited love.

But her young hands, busy with others' wants, And her young heart, busy with others' woes, With acts of kindness filled the lagging hours, Best of all medicines for aching hearts.

Yet often she would seek a quiet nook Deep in the park, where giant trees cross arms, Making high gothic arches, and a shade That noonday's fiercest rays could scarcely pierce, And there alone with her sad heart communed: "Yes! I have kept it for the giver's sake, But he has quite forgot his love, his gift, and me.

How bright these jewels seemed warmed by his love, But now how dull, how icy and how dead!"

But soon the soft-eyed antelopes and fawns And fleet gazelles came near and licked her hands; And birds of every rich and varied plume Gathered around and filled the air with song; And even timid pheasants brought their broods, For her sweet loving life had here restored The peace and harmony of paradise; And as they shared her bounty she was soothed By their mute confidence and perfect trust.

But though time seems to lag, yet still it moves, Resistless as the ocean's swelling tide, Bearing its mighty freight of human lives With all their joys and sorrows, hopes and fears, Onward, forever onward, to life's goal.

At length the emba.s.sy is sent, and now, Just as the last faint rays of rosy light Fade from the topmost Himalayan peaks, And tired nature sinks to quiet rest, A horseman dashes through the silent streets Bearing the waiting prince the welcome word That one short journey of a single day Divides him from the sweet Yasodhara; And light-winged rumor spreads the joyful news, And ere the dawn had danced from mountain-top O'er hill and vale and plain to the sweet notes Of nature's rich and varied orchestra, And dried the pearly tears that night had wept, The prince led forth his train to meet his bride, Wondering that Kantaka, always so free, So eager and so fleet, should seem to lag.

And in that fragrant garden's cooling shade, Where they had parted, now again they meet, And there we leave them reverently alone, For art can never paint nor words describe The peace and rest and rapture of that scene.

Meanwhile the city rings with busy stir.

The streets are swept and sprinkled with perfumes, And when the evening shades had veiled the earth, And heaven's blue vault was set with myriad stars, The promised signal from the watchtower sounds, And myriad lamps shine from each house and tree, And merry children strew their way with flowers, And all come forth to greet Siddartha's bride, And welcome her, their second Maya, home.

And at the palace gate the good old king Receives her with such loving tenderness, As fondest mother, sick with hope deferred, Waiting and watching for an absent child, At length receives him in her open arms.

[1]Sinhahamu was an ancestor, said to be the grandfather, of our prince, whose bow, like that of Ulysses, no one else could bend. See notes 24 and 35 to Book Second of Arnold's "Light of Asia."

[2]Any one who has read that remarkable work, "Ben Bur," and every one who has not should, will recognize my obligations to General Wallace.

[3]One may be satisfied with the antiquity of the dance, practically as we have it, from lines 187-8, Book VI. of the Odyssey:

"Joyful they see applauding princes gaze When stately in the dance they swim the harmonious maze."

[4]I am aware I place Kapilavasta nearer the Vale of Cashmere than most, but as two such writers as Beal and Rhys Davids differ 30 yojanas, or 180 miles in its location, and as no remains have yet been identified at all corresponding to the grandeur of the ancient city as described by all Buddhist writers, I felt free to indulge my fancy.

Perhaps these ruins may yet be found by some chance traveler in some unexplored jungle.

BOOK III.

And now his cup with every blessing filled Full to the brim, to overflowing full, What more has life to give or heart to wish?

Stately in form, with every princely grace, A very master of all manly arts, His gentle manners making all his friends, His young blood bounding on in healthful flow, His broad domains rich in all earth can yield, Guarded by nature and his people's love, And now that deepest of all wants supplied, The want of one to share each inmost thought, Whose sympathy can soothe each inmost smart, Whose presence, care and loving touch can make The palace or the humblest cottage home, His life seemed rounded, perfect, full, complete.

And they were happy as the days glide on, And when at night, locked in each other's arms, They sink to rest, heart beating close to heart, Their thoughts all innocence and trust and love, It almost seemed as if remorseless Time Had backward rolled his tide, and brought again The golden age, with all its peace and joy, And our first parents, ere the tempter came, Were taking sweet repose in paradise.

But as one night they slept, a troubled dream Disturbed the prince. He dreamed he saw one come, As young and fair as sweet Yasodhara, But clad in widow's weeds, and in her arms A lifeless child, crying: "Most mighty prince!

O bring me back my husband and my child!"

But he could only say "Alas! poor soul!"

And started out of sleep he cried "Alas!"

Which waked the sweet Yasodhara, who asked, "What ails my love?" "Only a troubled dream,"

The prince replied, but still she felt him tremble, And kissed and stroked his troubled brow, And soothed him into quiet sleep again.

And then once more he dreamed--a pleasing dream.

He dreamed he heard strange music, soft and sweet; He only caught its burden: "Peace, be still!"

And then he thought he saw far off a light, And there a place where all was peace and rest, And waking sighed to find it all a dream.

One day this happy couple, side by side, Rode forth alone, Yasodhara unveiled-- "For why," said she, "should those whose thoughts are pure Like guilty things hide from their fellow-men?"-- Rode through the crowded streets, their only guard The people's love, strongest and best of guards; For many arms would spring to their defense, While some grim tyrant, at whose stern command A million swords would from their scabbards leap, Cringes in terror behind bolts and bars, Starts at each sound, and fears some hidden mine May into atoms blow his stately towers, Or that some hand unseen may strike him down, And thinks that poison lurks in every cup, While thousands are in loathsome dungeons thrust Or pine in exile for a look or word.

And as they pa.s.s along from street to street A sea of happy faces lines their way, Their joyful greetings answered by the prince.

No face once seen, no name once heard, forgot, While sweet Yasodhara was wreathed in smiles, The kind expression of her gentle heart, When from a little cottage by the way, The people making room for him to pa.s.s, There came an aged man, so very old That time had ceased to register his years; His step was firm, his eye, though faded, mild, And childhood's sweet expression on his face.

The prince stopped short before him, bending low, And gently asked: "What would my father have?

Speak freely--what I can, I freely give."

"Most n.o.ble prince, I need no charity, For my kind neighbors give me all unasked, And my poor cottage where my fathers dwelt, And where my children and their mother died, Is kept as clean as when sweet Gunga lived; And young and old cheer up my lonely hours, And ask me much of other times and men.

For when your father's father was a child, I was a man, as young and strong as you, And my sweet Gunga your companion's age.

But O the mystery of life explain!

Why are we born to tread this little round, To live, to love, to suffer, sorrow, die?

Why do the young like field-flowers bloom to fade?

Why are the strong like the mown gra.s.s cut down?

Why am I left as if by death forgot, Left here alone, a leafless, fruitless trunk?

Is death the end, or what comes after death?

Often when deepest sleep shuts out the world, The dead still seem to live, while life fades out; And when I sit alone and long for light The veil seems lifted, and I seem to see A world of life and light and peace and rest, No sickness, sin or sorrow, pain or death, No helpless infancy or hopeless age.

But we poor Sudras cannot understand-- Yet from my earliest memory I've heard That from this hill one day should burst a light, Not for the Brahmans only, but for all.

And when you were a child I saw a sage Bow down before you, calling you that light.

O n.o.ble, mighty prince! let your light shine, That men no longer grope in dark despair!"

He spoke, and sank exhausted on the ground.

They gently raised him, but his life was fled.

The prince gave one a well-filled purse and said: "Let his pile neither lack for sandal-wood Or any emblem of a life well spent."

And when fit time had pa.s.sed they bore him thence And laid him on that couch where all sleep well, Half hid in flowers by loving children brought, A smile still lingering on his still, cold lips, As if they just had tasted Gunga's kiss, Soon to be kissed by eager whirling flames.