The Light of Asia/Book the Sixth

Thou who wouldst see where dawned the light at last, North-westwards from the "Thousand Gardens" go By Gunga's valley till thy steps be set On the green hills where those twin streamlets spring Nilajan and Mohana; follow them, Winding beneath broad-leaved mahua-trees, 'Mid thickets of the sansar and the bir, Till on the plain the shining sisters meet In Phalgu's bed, flowing by rocky banks To Gaya and the red Barabar hills. Hard by that river spreads a thorny waste, Uruwelaya named in ancient days, With sandhills broken; on its verge a wood Waves sea-green plumes and tassels 'thwart the sky, With undergrowth wherethrough a still flood steals, Dappled with lotus-blossoms, blue and white, And peopled with quick fish and tortoises. Near it the village of Senani reared Its roofs of grass, nestled amid the palms, Peaceful with simple folk and pastoral toils.

There in the sylvan solitudes once more Lord Buddha lived, musing the woes of men, The ways of fate, the doctrines of the books, The lessons of the creatures of the brake, The secrets of the silence whence all come, The secrets of the gloom whereto all go, The life which lies between, like that arch flung From cloud to cloud across the sky, which hath Mists for its masonry and vapoury piers, Melting to void again which was so fair With sapphire hues, garnet, and chrysoprase. Moon after moon our Lord sate in the wood, So meditating these that he forgot Ofttimes the hour of food, rising from thoughts Prolonged beyond the sunrise and the noon To see his bowl unfilled, and eat perforce Of wild fruit fallen from the boughs o'erhead, Shaken to earth by chattering ape or plucked By purple parokeet. Therefore his grace Faded; his body, worn by stress of soul, Lost day by day the marks, thirty and two, Which testify the Buddha. Scarce that leaf, Fluttering so dry and withered to his feet From off the sal-branch, bore less likeliness Of spring's soft greenery than he of him Who was the princely flower of all his land.

And once at such a time the o'erwrought Prince Fell to the earth in deadly swoon, all spent, Even as one slain, who hath no longer breath Nor any stir of blood; so wan he was, So motionless. But there came by that way A shepherd-boy, who saw Siddartha lie With lids fast-closed, and lines of nameless pain Fixed on his lips--the fiery noonday sun Beating upon his head--who, plucking boughs From wild rose-apple trees, knitted them thick Into a bower to shade the sacred face. Also he poured upon the Master's lips Drops of warm milk, pressed from his she-goat's bag, Lest, being of low caste, he do wrong to one So high and holy seeming. But the books Tell how the jambu-branches, planted thus, Shot with quick life in wealth of leaf and flower And glowing fruitage interlaced and close, So that the bower grew like a tent of silk Pitched for a king at hunting, decked with studs Of silver-work and bosses of red gold. And the boy worshipped, deeming him some God; But our Lord, gaining breath, arose and asked Milk in the shepherd's lots. "Ah, my Lord, I cannot give thee," quoth the lad; "thou seest I am a Sudra, and my touch defiles!" Then the World-honoured spake: "Pity and need Make all flesh kin. There is no caste in blood, Which runneth of one hue, nor caste in tears, Which trickle salt with all; neither comes man To birth with tilka-mark stamped on the brow, Nor sacred thread on neck.  Who doth right deeds Is twice-born, and who doeth ill deeds vile. Give me to drink, my brother; when I come Unto my quest it shall be good for thee." Thereat the peasant's heart was glad, and gave.

And on another day there passed that road A band of tinselled, girls, the nautch-dancers Of Indra's temple in the town, with those Who made their music--one that beat a drum Set round with peacock-feathers, one that blew The piping bansuli, and one that twitched A three-string sitar. Lightly tripped they down From ledge to ledge and through the chequered paths To some gay festival, the silver bells Chiming soft peals about the small brown feet, Armlets and wrist-rings tattling answer shrill; While he that bore the sitar thrummed and twanged His threads of brass, and she beside him sang--

"Fair goes the dancing when the sitar's tuned; Tune us the sitar neither low nor high, And we will dance away the hearts of men.

"The string o'erstretched breaks, and the music flies, The string o'erslack is dumb, and music dies; Tune us the sitar neither low nor high."

"So sang the nautch-girl to the pipe and wires, Fluttering like some vain, painted butterfly From glade to glade along the forest path, Nor dreamed her light words echoed on the ear Of him, that holy man, who sate so rapt Under the fig-tree by the path. But Buddh Lifted his great brow as the wantons passed, And spake: 'The foolish ofttimes teach the wise; I strain too much this string of life, belike, Meaning to make such music as shall save. Mine eyes are dim now that they see the truth, My strength is waned now that my need is most; Would that I had such help as man must have, For I shall die, whose life was all men's hope.'"

Now, by that river dwelt a landholder Pious and rich, master of many herds, A goodly chief, the friend of all the poor; And from his house the village drew its name-- "Senani." Pleasant and in peace he lived, Having for wife Sujata, loveliest Of all the dark-eyed daughters of the plain; Gentle and true, simple and kind was she, Noble of mien, with gracious speech to all And gladsome looks--a pearl of womanhood-- Passing calm years of household happiness Beside her lord in that still Indian home, Save that no male child blessed their wedded love. Wherefore with many prayers she had besought Lukshmi, and many nights at full-moon gone Round the great Lingam, nine times nine, with gifts Of rice and jasmine wreaths and sandal oil, Praying a boy; also Sujata vowed-- If this should be--an offering of food Unto the Wood-God, plenteous, delicate, Set in a bowl of gold under his tree, Such as the lips of Devs may taste and take. And this had been: for there was born to her A beauteous boy, now three months old, who lay Between Sujata's breasts, while she did pace With grateful footsteps to the Wood-God's shrine, One arm clasping her crimson sari close To wrap the babe, that jewel of her joys, The other lifted high in comely curve To steady on her head the bowl and dish Which held the dainty victuals for the God.

But Radha, sent before to sweep the ground And tie the scarlet threads around the tree, Came eager, crying, "Ah, dear Mistress! look! There is the Wood-God sitting in his place, Revealed, with folded hands upon his knees. See how the light shines round about his brow! How mild and great he seems, with heavenly eyes! Good fortune is it thus to meet the gods."

So,--thinking him divine,--Sujata drew Tremblingly nigh, and kissed the earth and said, With sweet face bent: "Would that the Holy One Inhabiting his grove, Giver of good, Merciful unto me his handmaiden, Vouchsafing now his presence, might accept These our poor gifts of snowy curds, fresh made, With milk as white as new-carved ivory!"

Therewith into the golden bowl she poured The curds and milk, and on the hands of Buddh Dropped attar from a crystal flask-distilled Out of the hearts of roses; and he ate, Speaking no word, while the glad mother stood In reverence apart. But of that meal So wondrous was the virtue that our Lord Felt strength and life return as though the nights Of watching and the days of fast had passed In dream, as though the spirit with the flesh Shared that fine meat and plumed its wings anew, Like some delighted bird at sudden streams Weary with flight o'er endless wastes of sand, Which laves the desert dust from neck and crest-- And more Sujata worshipped, seeing our Lord Grow fairer and his countenance more bright: "Art thou indeed the God?" she lowly asked, "And hath my gift found favour?"

But Buddh said, "What is it thou dost bring me?"

"Holy one!" Answered Sujata, "from our droves I took Milk of a hundred mothers newly-calved, And with that milk I fed fifty white cows, And with their milk twenty-and-five, and then With theirs twelve more, and yet again with theirs The six noblest and best of all our herds, That yield I boiled with sandal and fine spice In silver lotas, adding rice, well grown From chosen seed, set in new-broken ground, So picked that every grain was like a pearl. This did I of true heart, because I vowed, Under thy tree, if I should bear a boy I would make offering for my joy, and now I have my son and all my life is bliss!"

Softly our Lord drew down the crimson fold, And, laying on the little head those hands Which help the world, he said: "Long be thy bliss! And lightly fall on him the load of life! For thou hast holpen me who am no God, But one thy Brother; heretofore a Prince And now a wanderer, seeking night and day These six hard years that light which somewhere shines To lighten all men's darkness, if they knew! And I shall find the light; yea, now it dawned Glorious and helpful, when my weak flesh failed Which this pure food, fair Sister, hath restored, Drawn manifold through lives to quicken life As life itself passes by many births To happier heights and purging off of sins. Yet dost thou truly find it sweet enough Only to live? Can life and love suffice?"

Answered Sujata: "Worshipful! my heart Is little, and a little rain will fill The lily's cup which hardly moists the field. It is enough for me to feel life's sun Shine in my lord's grace and my baby's smile, Making the loving summer of our home. Pleasant my days pass filled with household cares From sunrise when I wake to praise the gods, And give forth grain, and trim the tulsi-plant, And set my handmaids to their tasks, till noon When my lord lays his head upon my lap Lulled by soft songs and wavings of the fan; And so to supper-time at quiet eve, When by his side I stand and serve the cakes. Then the stars light their silver lamps for sleep, After the temple and the talk with friends. How should I not be happy, blest so much, And bearing him this boy whose tiny hand Shall lead his soul to Swerga, if it need? For holy books teach when a man shall plant Trees for the travelers' shade, and dig a well For the folks' comfort, and beget a son, It shall be good for such after their death; And what the books say, that I humbly take, Being not wiser than those great of old Who spake with gods, and knew the hymns and charms, And all the ways of virtue and of peace. Also I think that good must come of good And ill of evil--surely--unto all-- In every place and time--seeing sweet fruit Groweth from wholesome roots, and bitter things From poison-stocks; yea, seeing, too, how spite Breeds hate, and kindness friends, and patience peace Even while we live; and when 't is willed we die Shall there not be as good a `Then' as `Now'? Haply much better! since one grain of rice Shoots a green feather gemmed with fifty pearls, And all the starry champak's white and gold Lurks in those little, naked, grey spring-buds. Ah, Sir! I know there might be woes to bear Would lay fond Patience with her face in dust; If this my babe pass first I think my heart Would break--almost I hope my heart would break! That I might clasp him dead and wait my lord In whatsoever world holds faithful wives-- Duteous, attending till his hour should come. But if Death called Senani, I should mount The pile and lay that dear head in my lap, My daily way, rejoicing when the torch Lit the quick flame and rolled the choking smoke. For it is written if an Indian wife Die so, her love shall give her husband's soul For every hair upon her head a crore Of years in Swerga. Therefore fear I not. And therefore, Holy Sir! my life is glad, Nowise forgetting yet those other lives Painful and poor, wicked and miserable, Whereon the gods grant pity! but for me, What good I see humbly I seek to do, And live obedient to the law, in trust That what will come, and must come, shall come well."

Then spake our Lord: "Thou teachest them who teach, Wiser than wisdom in thy simple lore. Be thou content to know not, knowing thus Thy way of right and duty: grow, thou flower With thy sweet kind in peaceful shade--the light Of Truth's high noon is not for tender leaves Which must spread broad in other suns and lift In later lives a crowned head to the sky. Thou who hast worshipped me, I worship thee! Excellent heart! learned unknowingly, As the dove is which flieth home by love. In thee is seen why there is hope for man And where we hold the wheel of life at will. Peace go with thee, and comfort all thy days! As thou accomplishest, may I achieve! He whom thou thoughtest God bids thee wish this."

"May'st thou achieve," she said, with earnest eyes Bent on her babe, who reached its tender hands To Buddh--knowing, belike, as children know, More than we deem, and reverencing our Lord; But he arose--made strong with that pure meat-- And bent his footsteps where a great Tree grew, The Bodhi-tree (thenceforward in all years Never to fade, and ever to be kept In homage of the world), beneath whose leaves It was ordained that Truth should come to Buddh Which now the Master knew; wherefore he went With measured pace, steadfast, majestical, Unto the Tree of Wisdom. Oh, ye Worlds! Rejoice! our Lord wended unto the Tree!

Whom--as he passed into its ample shade, Cloistered with columned dropping stems, and roofed With vaults of glistening green--the conscious earth Worshipped with waving grass and sudden flush Of flowers about his feet. The forest-boughs Bent down to shade him; from the river sighed Cool wafts of wind laden with lotus-scents Breathed by the water-gods. Large wondering eyes Of woodland creatures--panther, boar, and deer-- At peace that eve, gazed on his face benign From cave and thicket. From its cold cleft wound The mottled deadly snake, dancing its hood In honour of our Lord; bright butterflies Fluttered their vans, azure and green and gold, To be his fan-bearers; the fierce kite dropped Its prey and screamed; the striped palm-squirrel raced From stem to stem to see; the weaver-bird Chirped from her swinging nest; the lizard ran; The koil sang her hymn; the doves flocked round; Even the creeping things were 'ware and glad. Voices of earth and air joined in one song, Which unto ears that hear said: "Lord and Friend! Lover and Saviour! Thou who hast subdued Angers and prides, desires and fears and doubts, Thou that for each and all hast given thyself, Pass to the Tree!  The sad world blesseth thee Who art the Buddh that shall assuage her woes. Pass, Hailed and Honoured! strive thy last for us, King and high Conqueror! thine hour is come; This is the Night the ages waited for!"

Then fell the night even as our Master sate Under that Tree. But he who is the Prince Of Darkness, Mara--knowing this was Buddh Who should deliver men, and now the hour When he should find the Truth and save the worlds-- Gave unto all his evil powers command. Wherefore there trooped from every deepest pit The fiends who war with Wisdom and the Light, Arati, Trishna, Raga, and their crew Of passions, horrors, ignorances, lusts. The brood of gloom and dread; all hating Buddh, Seeking to shake his mind; nor knoweth one, Not even the wisest, how those fiends of Hell Battled that night to keep the Truth from Buddh: Sometimes with terrors of the tempest, blasts Of demon-armies clouding all the wind, With thunder, and with blinding lightning flung In jagged javelins of purple wrath From splitting skies; sometimes with wiles and words Fair-sounding, 'mid hushed leaves and softened airs From shapes of witching beauty; wanton songs, Whispers of love; sometimes with royal allures Of proffered rule; sometimes with mocking doubts, Making truth vain. But whether these befell Without and visible, or whether Buddh Strove with fell spirits in his inmost heart, Judge ye:--I write what ancient books have writ.

The ten chief Sins came--Mara's mighty ones, Angels of evil--Attavada first, The Sin of Self, who in the Universe As in a mirror sees her fond face shown, And crying "I" would have the world say "I," And all things perish so if she endure. "If thou be'st Buddh," she said, "let others grope Lightless; it is enough that thou art Thou Changelessly; rise and take the bliss of gods Who change not, heed not, strive not." But Buddh spake, "The right in thee is base, the wrong a curse; Cheat such as love themselves." Then came wan Doubt, He that denies--the mocking Sin--and this Hissed in the Master's ear: "All things are shows, And vain the knowledge of their vanity; Thou dost but chase the shadow of thyself; Rise and go hence, there is no better way Than patient scorn, nor any help for man, Nor any staying of his whirling wheel." But quoth our Lord, "Thou hast no part with me, False Visikitcha, subtlest of man's foes." And third came she who gives dark creeds their power, Silabbat-paramasa, sorceress, Draped fair in many lands as lowly Faith, But ever juggling souls with rites and prayers; The keeper of those keys which lock up Hells And open Heavens. "Wilt thou dare," she said, "Put by our sacred books, dethrone our gods, Unpeople all the temples, shaking down That law which feeds the priests and props the realms?" But Buddha answered, "What thou bidd'st me keep Is form which passes, but the free Truth stands; Get thee unto thy darkness." Next there drew Gallantly nigh a braver Tempter, he, Kama, the King of passions, who hath sway Over the gods themselves, lord of all loves, Ruler of Pleasure's realm. Laughing he came Unto the Tree, bearing his bow of gold Wreathed with red blooms, and arrows of desire Pointed with five-tongued delicate flame which stings The heart it smites sharper than poisoned barb. And round him came into that lonely place Bands of bright shapes with heavenly eyes and lips Singing in lovely words the praise of Love To music of invisible sweet chords, So witching, that it seemed the night stood still To hear them, and the listening stars and moon, Paused in their orbits while these hymned to Buddh Of lost delights, and how a mortal man Findeth nought dearer in the three wide worlds Than are the yielded loving fragrant breasts Of Beauty and the rosy breast-blossoms, Love's rubies; nay, and toucheth nought more high Than is that dulcet harmony of form Seen in the lines and charms of loveliness Unspeakable, yet speaking, soul to soul, Owned by the bounding blood, worshipped by will Which leaps to seize it, knowing this is best, This the true heaven where mortals are like gods, Makers and Masters, this the gift of gifts Ever renewed and worth a thousand woes. For who hath grieved when soft arms shut him safe, And all life melted to a happy sigh, And all the world was given in one warm kiss? So sang, they with soft float of beckoning hands, Eyes lighted with love-flames, alluring smiles; In dainty dance their supple sides and limbs Revealing and concealing like burst buds Which tell their colour, but hide yet their hearts. Never so matchless grace delighted eye As troop by troop these midnight-dancers swept Nearer the Tree, each daintier than the last, Murmuring, "O great Siddartha! I am thine, Taste of my mouth and see if youth is sweet!" Also, when nothing moved our Master's mind, Lo! Kama waved his magic bow, and lo! The band of dancers opened, and a shape Fairest and stateliest of the throng came forth Wearing the guise of sweet Yasodhara. Tender the passion of those dark eyes seemed Brimming with tears; yearning those outspread arms Opened towards him; musical that moan Wherewith the beauteous shadow named his name, Sighing: "My Prince! I die for lack of thee! What heaven hast thou found like that we knew By bright Rohini in the Pleasure-house, Where all these weary years I weep for thee? Return, Siddartha! ah, return!  But touch My lips again, but let me to thy breast Once, and these fruitless dreams will end!  Ah, look! Am I not she thou lovedst?" But Buddh said: "For that sweet sake of her thou playest thus Fair and false Shadow, is thy playing vain; I curse thee not who wear'st a form so dear, Yet as thou art, so are all earthly shows. Melt to thy void again!" Thereat a cry Thrilled through the grove, and all that comely rout Faded with flickering wafts of flame, and trail Of vaporous ropes.

Next under darkening skies And noise of rising storm came fiercer Sins The rearmost of the Ten, Patigha--Hate-- With serpents coiled about her waist, which suck Poisonous milk from both her hanging dugs, And with her curses mix their angry hiss. Little wrought she upon that Holy One Who with his calm eyes dumbed her bitter lips And made her black snakes writhe to hide their fangs. Then followed Ruparaga--Lust of days-- That sensual Sin which out of greed for life Forgets to live; and next him Lust of Fame, Nobler Aruparaga, she whose spell Beguiles the wise, mother of daring deeds, Battles and toils. And haughty Mano came, The Fiend of Pride; and smooth Self-Righteousness. Uddhachcha; and--with many a hideous band Of vile and formless things, which crept and flapped Toad-like and bat-like--Ignorance, the Dam Of Fear and Wrong, Avidya, hideous hag, Whose footsteps left the midnight darker, while The rooted mountains shook, the wild winds howled, The broken clouds shed from their caverns streams Of levin-lighted rain; stars shot from heaven, The solid earth shuddered as if one laid Flame to her gaping wounds; the torn black air Was full of whistling wings, of screams and yells, Of evil faces peering, of vast fronts Terrible and majestic, Lords of Hell Who from a thousand Limbos led their troops To tempt the Master.

But Buddh heeded not, Sitting serene, with perfect virtue walled As is a stronghold by its gates and ramps; Also the Sacred Tree--the Bodhi-tree-- Amid that tumult stirred not, but each leaf Glistened as still as when on moonlit eves No zephyr spills the glittering gems of dew; For all this clamour raged outside the shade Spread by those cloistered stems.

In the third watch, The earth being still, the hellish legions fled, A soft air breathing from the sinking moon, Our Lord attained samma-sambuddh; he saw By light which shines beyond our mortal ken The line of all his lives in all the worlds, Far back and farther back and farthest yet, Five hundred lives and fifty. Even as one, At rest upon a mountain-summit, marks His path wind up by precipice and crag Past thick-set woods shrunk to a patch; through bogs Glittering false-green; down hollows where he toiled Breathless; on dizzy ridges where his feet Had well-nigh slipped; beyond the sunny lawns, The cataract and the cavern and the pool, Backward to those dim flats wherefrom he sprang To reach the blue--thus Buddha did behold Life's upward steps long-linked, from levels low Where breath is base, to higher slopes and higher Whereon the ten great Virtues wait to lead The climber skyward. Also, Buddha saw How new life reaps what the old life did sow; How where its march breaks off its march begins; Holding the gain and answering for the loss; And how in each life good begets more good, Evil fresh evil; Death but casting up Debit or credit, whereupon th' account In merits or demerits stamps itself By sure arithmic--where no tittle drops-- Certain and just, on some new-springing life; Wherein are packed and scored past thoughts and deeds, Strivings and triumphs, memories and marks Of lives foregone:

And in the middle watch, Our Lord attained Abhidjna--insight vast Ranging beyond this sphere to spheres unnamed, System on system, countless worlds and suns Moving in splendid measures, band by band Linked in division, one yet separate, The silver islands of a sapphire sea Shoreless, unfathomed, undiminished, stirred With waves which roll in restless tides of change. He saw those Lords of Light who hold their worlds By bonds invisible, how they themselves Circle obedient round mightier orbs Which serve profounder splendours, star to star Flashing the ceaseless radiance of life From centres ever shifting unto cirques Knowing no uttermost. These he beheld With unsealed vision, and of all those worlds, Cycle on epicycle, all their tale Of Kalpas, Mahakalpas--terms of time Which no man grasps, yea, though he knew to count The drops in Gunga from her springs to the sea, Measureless unto speech--whereby these wax And wane; whereby each of this heavenly host Fulfils its shining life and darkling dies. Sakwal by Sakwal, depths and heights be passed Transported through the blue infinitudes, Marking--behind all modes, above all spheres, Beyond the burning impulse of each orb-- That fixed decree at silent work which wills Evolve the dark to light, the dead to life, To fulness void, to form the yet unformed, Good unto better, better unto best, By wordless edict; having none to bid, None to forbid; for this is past all gods Immutable, unspeakable, supreme, A Power which builds, unbuilds, and builds again, Ruling all things accordant to the rule Of virtue, which is beauty, truth, and use. So that all things do well which serve the Power, And ill which hinder; nay, the worm does well Obedient to its kind; the hawk does well Which carries bleeding quarries to its young; The dewdrop and the star shine sisterly, Globing together in the common work; And man, who lives to die, dies to live well So if he guide his ways by blamelessness And earnest will to hinder not but help All things both great and small which suffer life. These did our Lord see in the middle watch.

But when the fourth watch came the secret came Of Sorrow, which with evil mars the law, As damp and dross hold back the goldsmith's fire. Then was the Dukha-satya opened him First of the "Noble Truths"; how Sorrow is Shadow to life, moving where life doth move; Not to be laid aside until one lays Living aside, with all its changing states, Birth, growth, decay, love, hatred, pleasure, pain, Being and doing. How that none strips off These sad delights and pleasant griefs who lacks Knowledge to know them snares; but he who knows Avidya--Delusion--sets those snares, Loves life no longer but ensues escape. The eyes of such a one are wide; he sees Delusion breeds Sankhara, Tendency Perverse: Tendency Energy--Vidnnan-- Whereby comes Namarupa, local form And name and bodiment, bringing the man With senses naked to the sensible, A helpless mirror of all shows which pass Across his heart; and so Vendana grows-- "Sense-life "--false in its gladness, fell in sadness, But sad or glad, the Mother of Desire, Trishna, that thirst which makes the living drink Deeper and deeper of the false salt waves Whereon they float--pleasures, ambitions, wealth, Praise, fame, or domination, conquest, love; Rich meats and robes, and fair abodes, and pride Of ancient lines, and lust of days, and strife To live, and sins that flow from strife, some sweet, Some bitter. Thus Life's thirst quenches itself With draughts which double thirst; but who is wise Tears from his soul this Trishna, feeds his sense No longer on false shows, fills his firm mind To seek not, strive not, wrong not; bearing meek All ills which flow from foregone wrongfulness, And so constraining passions that they die Famished; till all the sum of ended life-- The Karma--all that total of a soul Which is the things it did, the thoughts it had, The "Self" it wove--with woof of viewless time, Crossed on the warp invisible of acts-- The outcome of him on the Universe, Grows pure and sinless; either never more Needing to find a body and a place, Or so informing what fresh frame it takes In new existence that the new toils prove Lighter and lighter not to be at all, Thus "finishing the Path"; free from Earth's cheats; Released from all the skandhas of the flesh; Broken from ties--from Upandanas--saved From whirling on the wheel; aroused and sane As is a man wakened from hateful dreams; Until--greater than Kings, than Gods more glad!-- The aching craze to live ends, and life glides-- Lifeless--to nameless quiet, nameless joy, Blessed NIRVANA--sinless, stirless rest That change which never changes!

Lo! the Dawn Sprang with Buddh's Victory! lo! in the East Flamed the first fires of beauteous day, poured forth Through fleeting folds of Night's black drapery. High in the widening blue the herald-star Faded to paler silver as there shot Brighter and brighter bars of rosy gleam Across the grey. Far off the shadowy hills Saw the great Sun, before the world was 'ware, And donned their crowns of crimson; flower by flower Felt the warm breath of Morn and 'gan unfold Their tender lids. Over the spangled grass Swept the swift footsteps of the lovely Light, Turning the tears of Night to joyous gems, Decking the earth with radiance, 'broidering The sinking storm-clouds with a golden fringe; Gilding the feathers of the palms, which waved Glad salutation; darting beams of gold Into the glades; touching with magic wand The stream to rippled ruby; in the brake Finding the mild eyes of the antelopes And saying, "It is day"; in nested sleep Touching the small heads under many a wing And whispering, "Children, praise the light of day!" Whereat there piped anthems of all the birds! The koil's fluted song, the bulbul's hymn, The "morning, morning" of the painted thrush, The twitter of the sunbirds starting forth To find the honey ere the bees be out, The grey crow's caw, the parrot's scream, the strokes Of the green hammersmith, the myna's chirp, The never finished love-talk of the doves Yea! and so holy was the influence Of that high Dawn which came with victory That, far and near, in homes of men there spread An unknown peace. The slayer hid his knife; The robber laid his plunder back; the shroff Counted full tale of coins; all evil hearts Grew gentle, kind hearts gentler, as the balm Of that divinest Daybreak lightened Earth. Kings at fierce war called truce; the sick men leaped Laughing from beds of pain; the dying smiled As though they knew that happy Morn was sprung From fountains farther than the utmost East; And o'er the heart of sad Yasodhara, Sitting forlorn at Prince Siddartha's bed, Came sudden bliss, as if love should not fail Nor such vast sorrow miss to end in joy. So glad the World was--though it wist not why-- That over desolate wastes went swooning songs Of mirth, the voice of bodiless Prets and Bhuts Foreseeing Buddh; and Devas in the air Cried, "It is finished, finished!" and the priests Stood with the wondering people in the streets Watching those golden splendours flood the sky And saying, "There hath happed some mighty thing." Also in Ran and jungle grew that day Friendship amongst the creatures: spotted deer Browsed fearless where the tigress fed her cubs, And cheetahs lapped the pool beside the bucks; Under the eagle's rock the brown hares scoured While his fierce beak but preened an idle wing; The snake sunned all his jewels in the beam With deadly fangs in sheath; the shrike let pass The nestling finch; the emerald halcyons Sate dreaming while the fishes played beneath, Nor hawked the merops, though the butterflies-- Crimson and blue and amber-flitted thick Around his perch; the Spirit of our Lord Lay potent upon man and bird and beast, Even while he mused under that Bodhi-tree, Glorified with the Conquest gained for all And lightened by a Light greater than Day's.

Then he arose--radiant, rejoicing, strong-- Beneath the Tree, and lifting high his voice Spake this, in hearing of all Times and Worlds:

Anekajatisangsarang Sandhawissang anibhisang Gahakarakangawesanto Dukkhajatipunappunang.

Gahakarakadithosi; Punagehang nakahasi; Sabhatephasukhabhagga, Gahakutangwisang Khitang; Wisangkharagatang chittang, Janhanangknayamajhaga.

Many a House of Life Held me--Seeking Ever Him Wrought These Prisons of the Senses, Sorrow-Fraught; Sore was My Ceaseless Strife!

But Now, Thou Builder of this Tabernacle--Thou! I Know Thee! Never Shalt Thou Build Again These Walls of Pain,

Nor Raise the Roof-Tree of Deceits, Nor Lay Fresh Rafters on the Clay: Broken Thy House is, and the Ridge-Pole Split! Delusion Fashioned it! Safe Pass I Thence--Deliverance to Obtain.