The Dawn and the Day Part 8

Better confess how little we can know, Better with feet unshod and humble awe Approach this living Power to ask for aid."

And as he spoke the devas filled the air, Unseen, unheard of men, and sweetly sung: "Hail, prince of peace! hail, harbinger of day!

The darkness vanishes, the light appears."

But Mara heard, and silent slunk away, The o'erwrought prince fell prostrate on the ground And lay entranced, while devas hovered near, Watching each heart-throb, breathing that sweet calm Its guardian angel gives the sleeping child.

The night has pa.s.sed, the day-star fades from sight, And morning's softest tint of rose and gold Tinges the east and tips the mountain-tops.

The silent village stirs with waking life, The bleat of goats and low of distant herds, The song of birds and crow of jungle-c.o.c.ks Breathe softest music through the dewy air.

And now two girls,[4] just grown to womanhood, The lovely daughters of the village lord, Trapusha one, and one Balika called, Up with the dawn, trip lightly o'er the gra.s.s, Bringing rich curds and rice picked grain by grain, A willing offering to their guardian G.o.d-- Who dwelt, as all the simple folk believed, Beneath an aged bodhi-tree that stood Beside the path and near where Buddha lay-- To ask such husbands as their fancies paint, Gentle and strong, and n.o.ble, true and brave; And having left their gifts and made their vows, With timid steps the maidens stole away.

But while the outer world is filled with life.

That inner world from whence this life proceeds, Concealed from sight by matter's blinding folds, Whose coa.r.s.er currents fill with wondrous power The nervous fluid of the universe Which darts through nature's frame, from star to star, From cloud to cloud, filling the world with awe; Now harnessed to our use, a patient drudge, Heedless of time or s.p.a.ce, bears human thought From land to land and through the ocean's depths; And bears the softest tones of human speech Faster than light, farther than ocean sounds; And whirls the clattering car through crowded streets, And floods with light the haunts of prowling thieves-- That inner world, whose very life is love, Pure love, and perfect, infinite, intense, That world is now astir. A rift appears In those dark clouds that rise from sinful souls And hide from us its clear celestial light, And clouds of messengers from that bright world, Whom they called devas and we angels call, Rush to that rift to rescue and to save.

The wind from their bright wings fanned Buddha's soul, The love from their sweet spirits warmed his heart.

He starts from sleep, but rising, scarcely knows If he had seen a vision while awake, Or, sunk in sleep, had dreamed a heavenly dream.

From that pure presence all his tempters fled.

The calm of conflict ended filled his soul, And led by unseen hands he forward pa.s.sed To where the sacred fig-tree long had grown, Beneath whose shade the village altar stood, Where simple folk would place their willing gifts, And ask the aid their simple wants required, Believing all the life above, around, The life within themselves, must surely come From living powers that ever hovered near.

Here lay the food Sagata's daughters brought, The choicest products of his herds and fields, This grateful food met nature's every need, Diffused a healthful glow through all his frame, And all the body's eager yearnings stilled.

Seven days he sat, and ate no more nor drank, Yet hungered not, nor burned with parching thirst, For heavenly manna fed his hungry soul-- Its wants were satisfied, the body's ceased.

Seven days he sat, in sweet internal peace Waiting for light, and sure that light would come, When seeming scales fell from his inner sight, His spirit's eyes were opened and he saw Not far away, but near, within, above, As dwells the soul within this mortal frame, A world within this workday world of ours, The living soul of all material things.

Eastward he saw a never-setting Sun, Whose light is truth, the light of all the worlds, Whose heat is tender, all-embracing love, The inmost Life of everything that lives, The mighty Prototype and primal Cause Of all the suns that light this universe, From ours, full-orbed, that tints the glowing east And paints the west a thousand varied shades, To that far distant little twinkling star That seems no larger than the glow-worm's lamp, Itself a sun to light such worlds as ours; And round about Him clouds of living light, Bright clouds of cherubim and seraphim, Who sing His praise and execute His will-- Not idly singing, as the foolish feign, But voicing forth their joy they work and sing; Doing His will, their works sound forth His praise.

On every side were fields of living green, With gardens, groves and gently rising hills, Where crystal streams of living waters flow, And dim with distance Meru's lofty heights.

No desert sands, no mountains crowned with ice, For here the scorching simoom never blows, Nor wintry winds, that pierce and freeze and kill, But gentle breezes breathing sweet perfumes; No weeds, no thorns, no bitter poisonous fruits, No noxious reptiles and no prowling beasts; For in this world of innocence and love No evil thoughts give birth to evil things, But many birds of every varied plume Delight the ear with sweetest melody; And many flowers of every varied tint Fill all the air with odors rich and sweet; And many fruits, suited to every taste, Hang ripe and ready that who will may eat-- A world of life, with all its lights and shades, The bright original of our sad world Without its sin and storms, its thorns and tears.

No Lethe's sluggish waters lave its sh.o.r.es, Nor solemn shades, of poet's fancy bred, Sit idly here to boast of battles past, Nor wailing ghosts wring here their shadowy hands For lack of honor to their cast-off dust; But living men, in human bodies clothed-- Not bodies made of matter, dull and coa.r.s.e, Dust from the dust and soon to dust returned, But living bodies, clothing living souls, Bodies responsive to the spirit's will, Clothing in acts the spirit's inmost thoughts-- Dwell here in many mansions, large and fair, Stretching beyond the keenest vision's hen, With room for each and more than room for all, Forever filling and yet never full.

Not clogged by matter, fast as fleetest birds, Wishing to go, they go; to come, they come.

No helpless infancy or palsied age, But all in early manhood's youthful bloom, The old grown young, the child to man's estate.

Gentle they seemed as they pa.s.sed to and fro, Gentle and strong, with every manly grace; Busy as bees in summer's sunny hours, In works of usefulness and acts of love; No pinching poverty or grasping greed, Gladly receiving, they more gladly give, Sharing in peace the bounties free to all.

As lost in wonder and delight he gazed, He saw approaching from a pleasant grove Two n.o.ble youths, yet full of gentleness, Attending one from sole to crown a queen, With every charm of fresh and blooming youth And every grace of early womanhood, Her face the mirror of her gentle soul, Her flowing robes finer than softest silk, That as she moved seemed woven of the light; Not borne by clumsy wings, or labored steps, She glided on as if her will had wings That bore her willing body where she wished.

As she approached, close by her side he saw, As through a veil or thin transparent mist, The form and features of the aged king, Older and frailer by six troubled years Than when they parted, yet his very face, Whom she was watching with the tenderest care.

And nearer seen each seeming youth was two, As when at first in Eden's happy shade Our primal parents ere the tempter came Were twain, and yet but one, so on they come, Hand joined in hand, heart beating close to heart, One will their guide and sharing every thought, Beaming with tender, all-embracing love, Whom G.o.d had joined and death had failed to part.

What need of words to introduce his guests?

Love knows her own, the mother greets her son.

Her parents and the king's, who long had watched Their common offspring with a constant care, Inspiring hope and breathing inward peace When secret foes a.s.sailed on every side, Now saw him burst the clouds that veiled their view And stand triumphant full before their eyes.

O happy meeting! joy profound, complete!

Soul greeting soul, heart speaking straight to heart, While countless happy faces hovered near And song's of joy sound through Nirvana's heights.

At length, the transports of first meeting past, More of this new-found world he wished to see, More of its peace and joy he wished to know.

Led by his loving guides, enwrapt he saw Such scenes of beauty pa.s.sing human speech, Such scenes of peace and joy past human thought, That he who sings must tune a heavenly lyre And seraphs touch his lips with living fire.

My unanointed lips will not presume To try such lofty themes, glad if I gain A distant prospect of the promised land, And catch some glimpses through the gates ajar.

Long time he wandered through these blissful scenes, Time measured by succession of delights, Till wearied by excess of very joy Both soul and body sunk in tranquil sleep.

He slept while hosts of devas sweetly sung: "Hail, great physician! savior, lover, friend!

Joy of the worlds, guide to Nirvana, hail!"

From whose bright presence Mara's myriads fled.

But Mara's self, subtlest of all, fled not, But putting on a seeming yogi's form, Wasted, as if by fasts, to skin and bone, On one foot standing, rooted to the ground, The other raised against his fleshless thigh, Hands stretched aloft till joints had lost their use, And clinched so close, as if in firm resolve, The nails had grown quite through the festering palms,[5]

His tattered robes, as if worn out by age, Hanging like moss from trees decayed and dead, While birds were nesting in his tangled hair.

And thus disguised the subtle Mara stood, And when the master roused him from his sleep His tempter cried in seeming ecstasy: "O! happy wakening! joy succeeding grief!

Peace after trouble! rest that knows no end!

Life after death! Nirvana found at last!

Here let us wait till wasted by decay The body's worn-out fetters drop away."

"Much suffering-brother," Buddha answered him, "The weary traveler, wandering through the night In doubt and darkness, gladly sees the dawn.

The storm-tossed sailor on the troubled sea, Wearied and drenched, with joy re-enters port.

But other nights succeed that happy dawn, And other seas may toss that sailor's bark.

But he who sees Nirvana's sacred Sun, And in Nirvana's haven furls his sails, No more shall wander through the starless night, No more shall battle with the winds and waves.

O joy of joys! our eyes have seen that Sun!

Our sails have almost reached that sheltering port, But shall we, joyful at our own escape, Leave our poor brothers battling with the storm, Sails rent, barks leaking, helm and compa.s.s lost, No light to guide, no hope to cheer them on?"

"Each for himself must seek, as we have sought,"

The tempter said, "and each must climb alone The rugged path our weary feet have trod.

No royal road leads to Nirvana's rest; No royal captain guides his army there.

Why leave the heights with so much labor gained?

Why plunge in darkness we have just escaped?

Men will not heed the message we may bring.

The great will scorn, the rabble will deride,[6]

And cry 'He hath a devil and is mad.'"

"True," answered Buddha, "each must seek to find; Each for himself must leave the downward road; Each for himself must choose the narrow path That leads to purity and peace and life.

But helping hands will aid those struggling up; A warning voice may check those hasting down.

Men are like lilies in yon shining pool: Some sunk in evil grovel in the dust, Loving like swine to wallow in the mire-- Like those that grow within its silent depths, Scarce raised above its black and oozy bed; While some love good, and seek the purest light, Breathing sweet fragrance from their gentle lives-- Like those that rise above its gla.s.sy face, Sparkling with dewdrops, royally arrayed, Drinking the brightness of the morning sun, Distilling odors through the balmy air; But countless mult.i.tudes grope blindly on, Shut out from light and crushed by cruel castes, Willing to learn, whom none will deign to teach, Willing to rise, whom none will deign to guide, Who from the cradle to the silent grave, Helpless and hopeless, only toil and weep-- Like those that on the stagnant waters float, Smothered with leaves, covered with ropy slime, That from the rosy dawn to dewy eve Scarce catch one glimmer of the glorious sun.

The good scarce need, the bad will scorn, my aid; But these poor souls will gladly welcome help.

Welcome to me the scorn of rich and great, Welcome the Brahman's proud and cold disdain, Welcome revilings from the rabble rout, If I can lead some groping souls to light-- If I can give some weary spirits rest.

Farewell, my brother, you have earned release-- Rest here in peace. I go to aid the poor."

And as he spoke a flash of lurid light Shot through the air, and Buddha stood alone-- Alone! to teach the warring nations peace!

Alone! to lead a groping world to light!

Alone! to give the heavy-laden rest!

[1]A sakwal was a sun with its system of worlds, which the ancient Hindoos believed extended one beyond another through infinite s.p.a.ce.

It indicates great advance in astronomical knowledge when such a complex idea, now universally received as true, as that the fixed stars are suns with systems of worlds like ours, could be expressed in a single word.

[2]It may seem like an anachronism to put the very words of the modern agnostic into the mouth of Buddha's tempter, but these men are merely threshing over old straw. The sneer of Epicurus curled the lip of Voltaire, and now merely breaks out into a broad laugh on the good-natured face of Ingersoll.

[3]The Sanscrit, the most perfect of all languages, and the mother of Greek and of all the languages of the Aryan races, now spread over the world, had gone out of use in Buddha's time, and the Pali, one of its earliest offspring, was used by the great teacher and his people.

[4]Arnold follows the tradition, that there was but one, whom he makes a young wife, without any authority so far as I can learn. I prefer to follow the Chinese pilgrim, Fa Hian, who was on the ground with every means of knowing, who makes them two young girls, and named as above.

[5]Bishop Heber says he saw a recluse whose hands had been clinched so close and so long that the nails had actually grown through the hands as here described.

[6]The last temptation of Buddha was to keep his light to himself under the fear that men would reject his message.

BOOK VI.

Seven days had pa.s.sed since first he saw the light, Seven days of deep, ecstatic peace and joy, Of open vision of that blissful world, Of sweet communion with those dwelling there.

But having tasted, seen and felt the joys Of that bright world where love is all in all, Filling each heart, inspiring every thought, Guiding each will and prompting every act, He yearned to see the other, darker side Of that bright picture, where the wars and hates, The l.u.s.t, the greed, the cruelty and crime That fill the world with pain and want and woe Have found their dwelling-place and final goal.