The Dawn and the Day Part 12

That n.o.ble form, that calm, majestic face, Had never faded from his memory.

His words of wisdom, words of tender love, Had often stayed his hands when raised to strike, Had often put a bridle on his tongue When harsh and bitter words leaped to his lips, And checked those cruel acts of sudden wrath That stain the annals of the greatest kings, Until the people to each other said: "How mild and gentle our good king has grown!"

And when he heard this prince had now returned, In flower-embroidered purple robes arrayed, With all the pomp and circ.u.mstance of state, Followed by those who ever wait on power, He issued forth and climbed the rugged hill Until he reached the cave where Buddha sat, Calm and majestic as the rounded moon That moves serene along its heavenly path.

Greeting each other with such royal grace As fits a prince greeting a brother prince, The king inquired why he had left his home?

Why he, a Chakravartin's only son, Had left his palace for a lonely cave, Wore coa.r.s.est cloth instead of royal robes, And for a scepter bore a begging-bowl?

"Youth," said the king, "with full and bounding pulse, Youth is the time for boon companions.h.i.+p, The time for pleasure, when all pleasures please; Manhood, the time for gaining wealth and power; But as the years creep on, the step infirm, The arm grown feeble and the hair turned gray, 'Tis time to mortify the five desires, To give religion what of life is left, And look to heaven when earth begins to pall.

I would not use my power to hold you here, But offer half my kingdom for your aid To govern well and use my power aright."

The prince with gentle earnestness replied: "O king, ill.u.s.trious and world-renowned!

Your n.o.ble offer through all coming time Shall be remembered. Men will praise an act By likening it to Bimbasara's gift.

You offer me the half of your domain.

I in return beseech you share with me Better than wealth, better than kingly power, The peace and joy that follows l.u.s.ts subdued.

Wait not on age--for age brings feebleness-- But this great battle needs our utmost strength.

If you will come, then welcome to our cave; If not, may wisdom all your actions guide.

Ruling your empire in all righteousness, Preserve your country and protect her sons.

Sadly I leave you, great and gracious king, But my work calls--a world that waits for light.

In yonder sacred grove three brothers dwell-- Kasyapa, Gada, Nadi, they are called; Three chosen vessels for the perfect law, Three chosen lamps to light a groping world, Who wors.h.i.+p now the gross material fire Which burns and wastes but fails to purify.

I go to tell them of Nirvana's Sun, Perennial source of that undying flame, The fire of love, consuming l.u.s.t and hate As forest fires devour the crackling thorns, Until the soul is purified from sin, And sorrow, birth and death are left behind."

He found Kasyapa as the setting sun Was sinking low behind the western hills, And somber shadows darkened Phalgu's vale, And asked a place to pa.s.s the gathering night.

"Here is a grotto, cooled by trickling streams And overhanging shades, fit place for sleep,"

Kasyapa said, "that I would gladly give; But some fierce Naga nightly haunts the spot Whose poisoned breath no man can breathe and live."

"Fear not for me," the Buddha answered him, "For I this night will make my dwelling there."

"Do as you will," Kasyapa doubtful said, "But much I fear some dire catastrophe."

Now mighty Mara, spirit of the air, The prince of darkness, roaming through the earth Had found this grotto in the sacred grove, And as a Naga there kept nightly watch For those who sought deliverance from his power, Who, when the master calmly took his seat, Belched forth a flood of poison, foul and black, And with hot, burning vapors filled the cave.

But Buddha sat unmoved, serene and calm As Brahma sits amid the kalpa fires That burn the worlds but cannot harm his heaven.

While Mara, knowing Buddha, fled amazed And left the Naga coiled in Buddha's bowl.[3]

Kasyapa, terrified, beheld the flames, And when the first faint rays of dawn appeared With all his fearful followers sought the cave, And found the master not consumed to dust, But full of peace, aglow with perfect love.

Kasyapa, full of wonder, joyful said: "I, though a master, have no power like this To conquer groveling l.u.s.ts and evil beasts."

Then Buddha taught the source of real power, The power of love to fortify the soul, Until Kasyapa gathered all his stores, His sacred vessels, sacrificial robes, And cast them in the Phalgu pa.s.sing near.

His brothers saw them floating down the stream, And winged with fear made haste to learn the cause.

They too the master saw, and heard his words, And all convinced received the perfect law, And with their followers joined the Buddha's band.

The days pa.s.s on, and in the bamboo-grove A great vihara as by magic rose, Built by the king for Buddha's growing band, A s.p.a.cious hall where all might hear his words, And little cells where each might take his rest, A school and rest-house through the summer rains.

But soon the monsoons from the distant seas Bring gathering clouds to veil the brazen sky, While nimble lightnings dart their blinding flames, And rolling thunders shake the trembling hills, And heaven's downpourings drench the thirsty earth-- The master's seed-time when the people rest.

For now the sixty from their distant fields Have gathered in to trim their lamps afresh And learn new wisdom from the master's lips-- All but brave Purna on the Tartar steppes Where summer is the fittest time for toil, When India's rains force India's sons to rest.

The new vihara and the bamboo-grove King Bimbasara to the master gave, Where day by day he taught his growing school, While rills, grown torrents, leap from rock to rock, And Phalgu's swollen stream sweeps down the vale.

That Saraputra after called the Great Had seen these new-come youths in yellow robes Pa.s.sing from street to street to ask for alms, Receiving coa.r.s.est food with gentle thanks-- Had seen them meet the poor and sick and old With kindly words and ever-helpful hands-- Had seen them pa.s.sing to the bamboo-grove Joyful as bridegrooms soon to meet their brides.

He, Vashpa and Asvajit met one day, Whom he had known beneath the banyan-tree, Two of the five who first received the law, Now clothed in yellow, bearing begging-bowls, And asked their doctrine, who their master was, That they seemed joyful, while within the grove All seemed so solemn, self-absorbed and sad.

They bade him come and hear the master's words, And when their bowls were filled, he followed them, And heard the living truth from Buddha's lips, And said: "The sun of wisdom has arisen.

What further need of our poor flickering lamps?"

And with Mugallan joined the master's band.

And now five strangers from the Tartar steppes, Strangers in form and features, language, dress, Guided by one as strange in dress as they, Weary and foot-sore, pa.s.sed within the gates Of Rajagriha, while the rising sun Was still concealed behind the vulture-peak, A laughing-stock to all the idle crowd, Whom noisy children followed through the streets As thoughtless children follow what is strange, Until they met the master asking alms, Who with raised hand and gentle, mild rebuke Hushed into silence all their noisy mirth.

"These are our brothers," Buddha mildly said.

"Weary and worn they come from distant lands, And ask for kindness--not for mirth and jeers."

They knew at once that calm, majestic face, That voice as sweet as Brahma's, and those eyes Beaming with tender, all-embracing love, Of which, while seated round their argol fires In their black tents, brave Purna loved to tell, And bowed in wors.h.i.+p at the master's feet.

He bade them rise, and learned from whence they came, And led them joyful to the bamboo-grove, Where some brought water from the nearest stream To bathe their festered feet and weary limbs, While some brought food and others yellow robes-- Fitter for India's heat than skins and furs-- All welcoming their new-found friends who came From distant lands, o'er desert wastes and snows, To see the master, hear the perfect law, And bring the message n.o.ble Purna sent.

The months pa.s.s on; the monsoons cease to blow, The thunders cease to roll, the rains to pour; The earth, refreshed, is clothed with living green, And flowers burst forth where all was parched and bare, And busy toil succeeds long days of rest.

The time for mission work has come.

The brethren, now to many hundreds grown, Where'er the master thought it best were sent.

The strongest and the bravest volunteered To answer Purna's earnest call for help, And clothed in fitting robes for piercing cold They scale the mountains, pa.s.s the desert wastes, Their guide familiar with their terrors grown; While some return to their expectant flocks, And some are sent to kindred lately left, And some to strangers dwelling near or far-- All bearing messages of peace and love-- Until but few in yellow robes remain, And single footfalls echo through that hall Where large a.s.semblies heard the master's words.

A few are left, not yet confirmed in faith; And those five brothers from the distant north Remain to learn the sacred tongue and lore, While Saraputra and Kasyapa stay To aid the master in his special work.

From far Kosala, rich Sudata came, Friend of the dest.i.tute and orphans called.

In houses rich, and rich in lands and gold, But richer far in kind and gracious acts, Who stopped in Rajagriha with a friend.

But when he learned a Buddha dwelt so near, And heard the gracious doctrine he proclaimed, That very night he sought the bamboo-grove, While roofs and towers were silvered by the moon, And silent streets in deepest shadows lay, And bamboo-plumes seemed waving silver sprays, And on the ground the trembling shadows played.

Humble in mind but great in gracious deeds, Of earnest purpose but of simple heart, The master saw in him a vessel fit For righteousness, and bade him stay and learn His rules of grace that bring Nirvana's rest.

And first of all the gracious master said: "This restless nature and this selfish world Is all a phantasy and empty show; Its life is l.u.s.t, its end is pain and death.

Waste not your time in speculations deep Of whence and why. One thing we surely know: Each living thing must have a living cause, And mind from mind and not from matter springs; While love, which like an endless golden chain.

Binds all in one, is love in every link, Up from the sparrow's nest, the mother's heart, Through all the heavens to Brahma's boundless love.

And l.u.s.ts resisted, daily duties done, Unite our lives to that unbroken chain Which draws us up to heaven's eternal rest."

And through the night they earnestly communed, Until Sudata saw the living truth In rising splendor, like the morning sun, And doubts and errors all are swept away As gathering clouds are swept by autumn's winds.

Bowing in reverence, Sudata said: "I know the Buddha never seeks repose, But gladly toils to give to others rest.

O that my people, now in darkness sunk, Might see the light and hear the master's words!

I dwell in King Pasenit's distant realm-- A king renowned, a country fair and rich-- And yearn to build a great vihara there."

The master, knowing well Sudata's heart And his unselfish charity, replied: "Some give in hope of greater gifts returned; Some give to gain a name for charity; Some give to gain the rest and joy of heaven, Some to escape the woes and pains of h.e.l.l.

Such giving is but selfishness and greed, But he who gives without a selfish thought Has entered on the n.o.ble eightfold path, Is purified from anger, envy, hate.

The bonds of pain and sorrow are unloosed; The way to rest and final rescue found.

Let your hands do what your kind heart desires."

Hearing this answer, he departs with joy, And Buddha with him Saraputra sent.

Arriving home, he sought a pleasant spot, And found the garden of Pasenit's son, And sought the prince, seeking to buy the ground.

But he refused to sell, yet said in jest: "Cover the grove with gold, the ground is yours."

Forthwith Sudata spread his yellow coin.

But Gata said, caught by his thoughtless jest: "Spread not your gold--I will not sell the ground."

"Not sell the ground?" Sudata sharply said, "Why then said you, 'Fill it with yellow gold'?"

And both contending sought a magistrate.

But Gata, knowing well his earnestness, Asked why he sought the ground; and when he learned, He said: "Keep half your gold; the land is yours, But mine the trees, and jointly we will build A great vihara for the Buddha's use."

The work begun was pressed both night and day; Lofty it rose, in just proportions built, Fit for the palace of a mighty king.

The people saw this great vihara rise, A stately palace for a foreign prince, And said in wonder: "What strange thing is this?

Our king to welcome thus a foreign king To new-made palaces, and not with war And b.l.o.o.d.y spears and hands to new-made graves, As was his father's wont in times gone by?"

Yet all went forth to meet this coming prince, And see a foreign monarch's royal pomp, But heard no trumpeting of elephants, Nor martial music, nor the neigh of steeds, But saw instead a little band draw near In yellow robes, with dust and travel-stained; But love, that like a holy halo crowned That dusty leader's calm, majestic brow, Hushed into silence every rising sneer.

And when Sudata met this weary band, And to the prince's garden led their way, They followed on, their hands in reverence joined, To where the stately new vihara rose, Enbowered in giant trees of every kind That India's climate grows, while winding streams Along their flowery banks now quiet flow, Now leap from rocks, now spread in s.h.i.+ning pools With lotuses and lilies overspread, While playing fountains with their falling spray Spread grateful coolness, and a blaze of bloom From myriad opening flowers perfumes the air, And myriad birds that sought this peaceful spot Burst forth in every sweet and varied song That India's fields and groves and gardens know.

And there Sudata bowed on bended knee, And from a golden pitcher water poured, The sign and sealing of their gift of love Of this vihara, Gatavana called, A school and rest-house for the Buddha's use, And for the brotherhood throughout the world.

Buddha received it with the fervent prayer That it might give the kingdom lasting peace.

Unlike Sudata's self, Sudata's king Believed religion but a comely cloak To hide besetting sins from public view, And sought the master in his new retreat To talk religion and to act a part, And greetings ended, said in solemn wise: "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown; But my poor kingdom now is doubly blest In one whose teachings purify the soul And give the highest and the humblest rest, As all are cleansed who bathe in Rapti's stream."

But Buddha saw through all this outer show His real purposes and inner life: The love of pleasure blighting high resolve, The love of money, root of every ill, That sends its poison fibers through the soul And saps its life and wastes its vital strength.

"The Tathagata only shows the way To purity and rest," the master said.

"There is a way to darkness out of light, There is a way to light from deepest gloom.

They only gain the goal who keep the way.

Harsh words and evil deeds to sorrow lead As sure as shadows on their substance wait.

For as we sow, so also shall we reap.

Boast not overmuch of kingly dignity.

A king most needs a kind and loving heart To love his subjects as an only son, To aid--not injure, comfort--not oppress, Their help, protector, father, friend and guide.

Such kings shall live beloved and die renowned, Whose works shall welcome them to heavenly rest."