Page:Little Clay Cart (Ryder 1905).djvu/193

P. 261.15]

Maitreya. Make haste, my boy, make haste! Your father is being led to his death.

Rohasena. My father! oh, my father!

Maitreya. Oh, my friend! Where must I behold you now?

Chārudatta. [Perceives his son and his friend.] Alas, my son! Alas, Maitreya! [Mournfully.] Ah, woe is me!

Long, too long, shall I thirst in vain

Through all my sojourn dread;

This vessel small will not contain

The water for the dead.

What may I give my son? [He looks at himself, and perceives the sacrificial cord.] Ah, this at least is mine.

The precious cord that Brahmans hold

Is unadorned with pearls and gold;

Yet, girt therewith, they sacrifice

To gods above and fathers old.

[He gives Rohasena the cord.]

Goha. Come, Chārudatta! Come, man!

Ahīnta. Man, do you name the noble Chārudatta's name, and forget the title? Remember:

In happy hours, in death, by night, by day,

Roving as free as a yet unbroken colt,

Fate wanders on her unrestricted way.

And again:

Life will depart his body soon;

Shall our reproaches bow his head?

Although eclipse may seize the moon,

We worship while it seems but dead.

Rohasena. Oh, headsmen, where are you leading my father?