Page:A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields.djvu/10

x Long reigned in Saligram of ancient fame, The mighty monarch of the wide, wide world. Chief of the virtuous, never in his life Harmed he, or strove to harm, his fellow-man, Or any creature sentient. But he left His kingdom in the forest-shades to dwell, And changed his sceptre for a hermit's staff, And with ascetic rites, privations rude, And constant prayers, endeavoured to attain Perfect dominion on his soul. At morn, Fuel, and flowers, and fruit, and holy grass, He gathered for oblations; and he passed In stern devotion all his other hours; Of the world heedless, and its myriad cares, And heedless too of wealth, and love, and fame.

Once on a time, while living thus, he went To bathe where through the wood the river flows: And his ablutions done, he sat him down Upon the shelving bank to muse and pray. Thither impelled by thirst, a graceful hind, Big with its young, came fearlessly to drink. Sudden, while yet she drank, the lion's roar, Feared by all creatures, like a thunder-clap Burst in that solitude from a thicket nigh. Startled, the hind leapt up, and from her womb Her offspring tumbled in the rushing stream. Whelmed by the hissing waves and carried far By the strong current swoln by recent rain, The tiny thing still struggled for its life, While its poor mother, in her fright and pain, Fell down upon the bank and breathed her last. Up rose the hermit-monarch at the sight, Full of keen anguish; with his pilgrim staff He drew the new-born creature from the wave; 'Twas panting fast, but life was in it still.