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  The first of myriad things which shall be mine

  By right of mercy and love's lordliness.

  For now I know, by what within me stirs,

  That I shall teach compassion unto men

  And be a speechless world's interpreter,

  Abating this accursed flood of woe,

  Not man's alone; but, if the Prince disputes,

  Let him submit this matter to the wise

  And we will wait their word." So was it done;

  In full divan the business had debate,

  And many thought this thing and many that,

  Till there arose an unknown priest who said,

  "If life be aught, the saviour of a life

  Owns more the living thing than be can own

  Who sought to slay—the slayer spoils and wastes,

  The cherisher sustains, give him the bird:"

  Which judgment all found just; but when the King

  Sought out the sage for honour, he was gone;

  And some one saw a hooded snake glide forth,—

  The gods come ofttimes thus! So our Lord Buddh

  Began his works of mercy.

  Yet not more

  Knew he as yet of grief than that one bird's,

  Which, being healed, went joyous to its kind.

  But on another day the King said, "Come,

  Sweet son! and see the pleasaunce of the spring,

  And how the fruitful earth is wooed to yield

  Its riches to the reaper; how my realm—

  Which shall be thine when the pile flames for me—

  Feeds all its mouths and keeps the King's chest filled.

  Fair is the season with new leaves, bright blooms,

  Green grass, and cries of plough-time." So they rode

  Into a lane of wells and gardens, where,

  All up and down the rich red loam, the steers

  Strained their strong shoulders in the creaking yoke

  Dragging the ploughs; the fat soil rose and rolled

  In smooth dark waves back from the plough; who drove

  Planted both feet upon the leaping share

  To make the furrow deep; among the palms

  The tinkle of the rippling water rang,

  And where it ran the glad earth 'broidered it

  With balsams and the spears of lemon-grass.

  Elsewhere were sowers who went forth to sow;

  And all the jungle laughed with nesting-songs,

  And all the thickets rustled with small life

  Of lizard, bee, beetle, and creeping things

  Pleased at the spring-time. In the mango-sprays

  The sun-birds flashed; alone at his green forge

  Toiled the loud coppersmith; bee-eaters hawked

  Chasing the purple butterflies; beneath,

  Striped squirrels raced, the mynas perked and picked,

  The nine brown sisters chattered in the thorn,

  The pied fish-tiger hung above the pool,

  The egrets stalked among the buffaloes,

  The kites sailed circles in the golden air;

  About the painted temple peacocks flew,

  The blue doves cooed from every well, far off

  The village drums beat for some marriage-feast;

  All things spoke peace and plenty, and the Prince

  Saw and rejoiced. But, looking deep, he saw

  The thorns which grow upon this rose of life

  How the sweat peasant sweated for his wage,

  Toiling for leave to live; and how he urged

  The great-eyed oxen through the flaming hours,

  Goading their velvet flanks: then marked he, too,

  How lizard fed on ant, and snake on him,

  And kite on both; and how the fish-hawk robbed

  The fish-tiger of that which it had seized;

  The shrike chasing the bulbul, which did chase

  The jewelled butterflies; till everywhere

  Each slew a slayer and in turn was slain,

  Life living upon death. So the fair show

  Veiled one vast, savage, grim conspiracy

  Of mutual murder, from the worm to man,

  Who himself kills his fellow; seeing which—

  The hungry ploughman and his labouring kine,

  Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke,

  The rage to live which makes all living strife—

  The Prince Siddartha sighed. "In this," he said,

  "That happy earth they brought me forth to see?

  How salt with sweat the peasant's bread! how hard

  The oxen's service! in the brake how fierce

  The war of weak and strong! i' th' air what plots!

  No refuge e'en in water. Go aside

  A space, and let me muse on what ye show."

  So saying, the good Lord Buddha seated him

  Under a jambu-tree, with ankles crossed—

  As holy statues sit—and first began

  To meditate this deep disease of life,

  What its far source and whence its remedy.

  So vast a pity filled him, such wide love

  For living things, such passion to heal pain,

  That by their stress his princely spirit passed

  To ecstasy, and, purged from mortal taint

  Of sense and self, the boy attained thereat

  Dhyana, first step of "the path."

  There flew

  High overhead that hour five holy ones,

  Whose free wings faltered as they passed the tree.

  "What power superior draws us from our flight?"

  They asked, for spirits feel all force divine,

  And know the sacred presence of the pure.

  Then, looking downward, they beheld the Buddh

  Crowned with a rose-hued aureole, intent

  On thoughts to save; while from the grove a voice

  Cried, "Rishis! this is He shall help the world,

  Descend and worship." So the Bright Ones came

  And sang a song of praise, folding their wings,

  Then journeyed on, taking good news to Gods.

  But certain from the King seeking the Prince

  Found him still musing, though the noon was past,

  And the sun hastened to the western hills

  Yet, while all shadows moved, the jambu-tree's

  Stayed in one quarter, overspreading him,

  Lest the sloped rays should strike that sacred head;

  And he who saw this sight heard a voice say,

  Amid the blossoms of the rose-apple,

  "Let be the King's son! till the shadow goes

  Forth from his heart my shadow will not shift."

  Book The Second

  *

  Now, when our Lord was come to eighteen years,

  The King commanded that there should be built

  Three stately houses, one of hewn square beams

  With cedar lining, warm for winter days;

  One of veined marbles, cool for summer heat;

  And one of burned bricks, with blue tiles bedecked,

  Pleasant at seed-time, when the champaks bud—

  Subha, Suramma, Ramma, were their names.

  Delicious gardens round about them bloomed,

  Streams wandered wild and musky thickets stretched,

  With many a bright pavilion and fair lawn

  In midst of which Siddartha strayed at will,

  Some new delight provided every hour;

  And happy hours he knew, for life was rich,

  With youthful blood at quickest; yet still came

  The shadows of his meditation back,

  As the lake's silver dulls with driving clouds.

  Which the King marking, called his Ministers:

  "Bethink ye, sirs I how the old Rishi spake,"

  He said, "and what my dream-readers foretold.

  This boy, more dear to me than mine heart's blood,

  Shall be of universal dominance,


  Trampling the neck of all his enemies,

  A King of kings—and this is in my heart;—

  Or he shall tread the sad and lowly path

  Of self-denial and of pious pains,

  Gaining who knows what good, when all is lost

  Worth keeping; and to this his wistful eyes

  Do still incline amid my palaces.

  But ye are sage, and ye will counsel me;

  How may his feet be turned to that proud road

  Where they should walk, and all fair signs come true

  Which gave him Earth to rule, if he would rule?"

  The eldest answered, "Maharaja! love

  Will cure these thin distempers; weave the spell

  Of woman's wiles about his idle heart.

  What knows this noble boy of beauty yet,

  Eyes that make heaven forgot, and lips of balm?

  Find him soft wives and pretty playfellows;

  The thoughts ye cannot stay with brazen chains

  A girl's hair lightly binds."

  And all thought good,

  But the King answered, "if we seek him wives,

  Love chooseth ofttimes with another eye;

  And if we bid range Beauty's garden round,

  To pluck what blossom pleases, he will smile

  And sweetly shun the joy he knows not of."

  Then said another, "Roams the barasingh

  Until the fated arrow flies; for him,

  As for less lordly spirits, some one charms,

  Some face will seem a Paradise, some form

  Fairer than pale Dawn when she wakes the world.

  This do, my King! Command a festival

  Where the realm's maids shall be competitors

  In youth and grace, and sports that Sakyas use.

  Let the Prince give the prizes to the fair,

  And, when the lovely victors pass his seat,

  There shall be those who mark if one or two

  Change the fixed sadness of his tender cheek;

  So we may choose for Love with Love's own eyes,

  And cheat his Highness into happiness."

  This thing seemed good; wherefore upon a day

  The criers bade the young and beautiful

  Pass to the palace, for 't was in command

  To hold a court of pleasure, and the Prince

  Would give the prizes, something rich for all,

  The richest for the fairest judged. So flocked

  Kapilavastu's maidens to the gate,

  Each with her dark hair newly smoothed and bound,

  Eyelashes lustred with the soorma-stick,

  Fresh-bathed and scented; all in shawls and cloths

  Of gayest; slender hands and feet new-stained

  With crimson, and the tilka-spots stamped bright.

  Fair show it was of all those Indian girls

  Slow-pacing past the throne with large black eyes

  Fixed on the ground, for when they saw the Prince

  More than the awe of Majesty made beat

  Their fluttering hearts, he sate so passionless,

  Gentle, but so beyond them. Each maid took

  With down-dropped lids her gift, afraid to gaze;

  And if the people hailed some lovelier one

  Beyond her rivals worthy royal smiles,

  She stood like a scared antelope to touch

  The gracious hand, then fled to join her mates

  Trembling at favour, so divine he seemed,

  So high and saint-like and above her world.

  Thus filed they, one bright maid after another,

  The city's flowers, and all this beauteous march

  Was ending and the prizes spent, when last

  Came young Yasodhara, and they that stood

  Nearest Siddartha saw the princely boy

  Start, as the radiant girl approached. A form

  Of heavenly mould; a gait like Parvati's; the

  Eyes like a hind's in love-time, face so fair

  Words cannot paint its spell; and she alone

  Gazed full-folding her palms across her breasts

  On the boy's gaze, her stately neck unbent.

  "Is there a gift for me?" she asked, and smiled.

  "The gifts are gone," the Prince replied, "yet take

  This for amends, dear sister, of whose grace

  Our happy city boasts;" therewith he loosed

  The emerald necklet from his throat, and clasped

  Its green beads round her dark and silk-soft waist;

  And their eyes mixed, and from the look sprang love.

  Long after—when enlightenment was full—

  Lord Buddha—being prayed why thus his heart

  Took fire at first glance of the Sakya girl,

  Answered, "We were not strangers, as to us

  And all it seemed; in ages long gone by

  A hunter's son, playing with forest girls

  By Yamun's spring, where Nandadevi stands,

  Sate umpire while they raced beneath the firs

  Like hares at eve that run their playful rings;

  One with flower-stars crowned he, one with long plumes

  Plucked from eyed pheasant and the junglecock,

  One with fir-apples; but who ran the last

  Came first for him, and unto her the boy

  Gave a tame fawn and his heart's love beside.

  And in the wood they lived many glad years,

  And in the wood they undivided died.

  Lo! as hid seed shoots after rainless years,

  So good and evil, pains and pleasures, hates

  And loves, and all dead deeds, come forth again

  Bearing bright leaves or dark, sweet fruit or sour.

  Thus I was he and she Yasodhara;

  And while the wheel of birth and death turns round,

  That which hath been must be between us two."

  But they who watched the Prince at prize-giving

  Saw and heard all, and told the careful King

  How sate Sidddrtha heedless till there passed

  Great Suprabuddha's child, Yasodhara;

  And how—at sudden sight of her—he changed,

  And how she gazed on him and he on her,

  And of the jewel-gift, and what beside

  Passed in their speaking glance.

  The fond King smiled:

  "Look! we have found a lure; take counsel now

  To fetch therewith our falcon from the clouds.

  Let messengers be sent to ask the maid

  In marriage for my son." But it was law

  With Sakyas, when any asked a maid

  Of noble house, fair and desirable,

  He must make good his skill in martial arts

  Against all suitors who should challenge it;

  Nor might this custom break itself for kings.

  Therefore her father spake: "Say to the King,

  The child is sought by princes far and near;

  If thy most gentle son can bend the bow,

  Sway sword, and back a horse better than they,

  Best would he be in all and best to us

  But how shall this be, with his cloistered ways?"

  Then the King's heart was sore, for now the Prince

  Begged sweet Yasodhara for wife—in vain,

  With Devadatta foremost at the bow,

  Ardjuna master of all fiery steeds,

  And Nanda chief in sword-play; but the Prince

  Laughed low and said, "These things, too, I

  have learned;

  Make proclamation that thy son will meet

  All comers at their chosen games. I think

  I shall not lose my love for such as these."

  So 't was given forth that on the seventh day

  The Prince Siddartha summoned whoso would

  To match with him in feats of manliness,

  The victor's crown to be Yasodhara.

  Therefore, upon the seventh day, there went

  T
he Sakya lords and town and country round

  Unto the maidan; and the maid went too

  Amid her kinsfolk, carried as a bride,

  With music, and with litters gaily dight,

  And gold-horned oxen, flower-caparisoned.

  Whom Devadatta claimed, of royal line,

  And Nanda and Ardjuna, noble both,

  The flower of all youths there, till the Prince came

  Riding his white horse Kantaka, which neighed,

  Astonished at this great strange world without

  Also Siddartha gazed with wondering eyes

  On all those people born beneath the throne,

  Otherwise housed than kings, otherwise fed,

  And yet so like—perchance—in joys and griefs.

  But when the Prince saw sweet Yasodhara,

  Brightly he smiled, and drew his silken rein,

  Leaped to the earth from Kantaka's broad back,

  And cried, "He is not worthy of this pearl

  Who is not worthiest; let my rivals prove

  If I have dared too much in seeking her."

  Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test

  And set a brazen drum six gows away,

  Ardjuna six and Devadatta eight;

  But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum

  Ten gows from off the line, until it seemed

  A cowry-shell for target. Then they loosed,

  And Nanda pierced his drum, Ardjuna his,

  And Devadatta drove a well-aimed shaft

  Through both sides of his mark, so that the crowd

  Marvelled and cried; and sweet Yasodhara

  Dropped the gold sari o'er her fearful eyes,

  Lest she should see her Prince's arrow fail.

  But he, taking their bow of lacquered cane,

  With sinews bound, and strung with silver wire,

  Which none but stalwart arms could draw a span,

  Thrummed it—low laughing—drew the twisted string

  Till the horns kissed, and the thick belly snapped

  "That is for play, not love," he said; "hath none

  A bow more fit for Sakya lords to use?"

  And one said, "There is Sinhahanu's bow,

  Kept in the temple since we know not when,

  Which none can string, nor draw if it be strung."

  "Fetch me," he cried, "that weapon of a man!"

  They brought the ancient bow, wrought of black steel,

  Laid with gold tendrils on its branching curves

  Like bison-horns; and twice Siddartha tried

  Its strength across his knee, then spake "Shoot now

  With this, my cousins!" but they could not bring

  The stubborn arms a hand's-breadth nigher use;

  Then the Prince, lightly leaning, bent the bow,

  Slipped home the eye upon the notch, and twanged

  Sharply the cord, which, like an eagle's wing