The Dawn and the Day Part 13

The king, convicted, heard his solemn words That like an arrow pierced his inmost life.

To him religion ceased to be a show Of chants and incense, empty forms and creeds, But stood a living presence in his way To check his blind and headlong downward course, And lead him to the n.o.ble eightfold path, That day by day and step by step shall lead To purity and peace and heavenly rest.

Kapilavastu's king, Suddhodana, His step grown feeble, snowy white his hair, By cares oppressed and sick with hope deferred, For eight long years had waited for his son.

But sweet Yasodhara, in widow's weeds, Her love by sorrow only purified As fire refines the gold by dross debased, Though tender memories bring unbidden tears, Wasted no time in morbid, selfish grief, But sought in care for others her own cure.

Both son and daughter to the aged king, She aids with counsels, soothes with tender care.

Father and mother to her little son, She lavishes on him a double love.

And oft on mercy's missions going forth, Shunning the pomp and show of royal state, Leading Rahula, prattling by her side, The people saw her pa.s.s with swelling hearts, As if an angel clothed in human form.

And now strange rumors reach the public ear, By home-bound pilgrims from Benares brought And merchantmen from Rajagriha come, That there a holy ris.h.i.+ had appeared Whom all believed a very living Buddh, While kings and peoples followed after him.

These rumors reached the sweet Yasodhara, And stirred these musings in her watchful heart: "Stately and tall they say this ris.h.i.+ is, Gentle to old and young, to rich and poor, And filled with love for every living thing.

But who so gentle, stately, tall and grand As my Siddartha? Who so full of love?

And he has found the light Siddartha sought!

It must be he--my own, my best beloved!

And surely he will hither come, and bring To his poor people, now in darkness sunk, That living light he left his home to seek."

As the same sun that makes the cedars grow And sends their vital force through giant oaks, Clothes fields with green and decks the wayside flower, And crowns the autumn with its golden fruits, So that same love which swept through Buddha's soul And drove him from his home to seek and save, Warmed into brighter glow each lesser love Of home and people, father, wife and child,[4]

And often through those long and troubled years He felt a burning longing to return.

And now, when summer rains had ceased to fall, And his disciples were again, sent forth, Both love and duty with united voice Bade him revisit his beloved home, And Saraputra and Kasyapa joined The master wending on his homeward way, While light-winged rumor bore Yasodhara This joyful news: "The holy ris.h.i.+ comes."

Without the southern gate a garden lay, Lumbini called, by playing fountains cooled, With shaded walks winding by banks of flowers, Whose mingled odors load each pa.s.sing breeze.

Thither Yasodhara was wont to go, For there her lord and dearest love was born, And there they pa.s.sed full many happy days.

The southern road skirted this garden's wall, While on the other side were suburb huts Where toiling poor folk and the base-born dwell.

And near this wall a bright pavilion rose, Whence she could see each pa.s.ser by the way.

One morning, after days of patient watch, She saw approach along this dusty road Three seeming pilgrims, clothed in yellow robes, Presenting at each humble door their bowls For such poor food as these poor folk could give.

As they drew near, a growing mult.i.tude, From every cottage swelled, followed their steps, Gazing with awe upon the leader's face, While each to his companion wondering said: "Who ever saw a ris.h.i.+ such as this, Who calls us brothers, whom the Brahmans scorn?"

But sweet Yasodhara, with love's quick sight, Knew him she waited for, and forth she rushed, Crying: "Siddartha, O my love! my lord!"

And prostrate in the dust she clasped his feet.

He gently raised and pressed her to his heart In one most tender, loving, long embrace.

By that embrace her every heartache cured, She calmly said: "Give me a humble part In your great work, for though my hands are weak My heart is strong, and my weak hands can bear The cooling cup to fever's burning lips; My mother's heart has more than room enough For many outcasts, many helpless waifs."

And there in presence of that base-born throng, Who gazed with tears and wonder on the scene, And in a higher presence, who can doubt He made her first of that great sisterhood, Since through the ages known in every land, Who gently raise the dying soldier's head, Where cruel war is mangling human limbs; Who smooth the pillow, bathe the burning brow Of sick and helpless strangers taken in; Whose tender care has made the orphans' home, For those poor waifs who know no mother's love.

Then toward the palace they together went To their Rahula and the aged king, While streets were lined and doors and windows filled With eager gazers at the prince returned In coa.r.s.est robes, with closely shaven head, Returned a Buddha who went forth a prince.

Through all these troubled, weary, waiting years, The king still hoped to see his son return In royal state, with kings for waiting-men, To rule a willing world as king of kings.

But now that son enters his palace-gates In coa.r.s.est beggar-garb, his alms-bowl filled With Sudras' leavings for his daily food.

The king with mingled grief and anger said: "Is this the end of all our cherished hopes, The answer to such lofty prophecies, To see the heir of many mighty king's Enter his kingdom like a beggar-tramp?

This the return for all the patient love Of sweet Yasodhara, and this the way To teach his duty to your royal son?"

The prince with reverence kissed his father's hand, Bent loving eyes upon his troubled brow That banished all his bitterness and said: "How hard it is to give up cherished hopes I know full well. I know a father's love.

Your love for me I for Rahula feel, And who can better know that deepest love Whose tendrils round my very heartstrings twine!

But crores of millions, with an equal love, Fathers and mothers, children, husbands, wives, In doubt and darkness groping blindly on, Cry out for help. Not lack of love for you, Or my Rahula or Yasodhara, But love for them drove me to leave my home.

The greatest kingdoms are like ocean's foam, A moment white upon the crested wave.

The longest life is but a pa.s.sing dream, Whose changing scenes but fill a moment's s.p.a.ce.

But these poor souls shall live in joy or woe While nations rise and fall and kalpas pa.s.s, And this proud city crumbles to decay Till antiquarians search its site in vain, And beasts shall burrow where this palace stands.

Not for the pleasures of a pa.s.sing day, Like shadows flitting ere you point their place, Not for the transient glories of a king, Now clothed in scarlet but to-morrow dust, Can I forget those loving, living souls, Groping in darkness, vainly asking help."

And then he showed the n.o.ble eightfold path From life's low levels to Nirvana's heights, While king and people on the master gazed, Whose face, beaming with pure, unselfish love, Transfigured seemed; and many n.o.ble youth, And chief Ananda, the Beloved called, Forsook their gay companions and the round Of youthful sports, and joined the master's band.

And as he spoke, crores more than mortals saw Gathered to hear, and King Suddhodana And sweet Yasodhara entered the path.

[1]I have substantially followed the description of this fearful route given by Fa Hian, the Chinese Buddhist pilgrim, who pa.s.sed by it from China to India.

[2]Like the aspen, the leaf of the sacred fig-tree is always trembling.--"Two Years in Ceylon," c.u.mming.

[3]This is Asvaghosha's version, but the Sanchi inscriptions make the Naga or cobra rise up behind Buddha and extend its hood over his head as a shelter.

[4]Some Buddhists teach that Buddha had conquered all human affections, and even enter into apologies for a show of affection for his wife, one of the most elaborate of which Arnold, in the "Light of Asia," puts into his own mouth; but this is no more like the teachings of Buddha than the doctrine of infant d.a.m.nation is like the teachings of Him who said: "Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not; for of such is the kingdom of G.o.d."