[2]Any one who has read that remarkable work, "Ben Bur," and every one who has not should, will recognize my obligations to General Wallace.

[3]One may be satisfied with the antiquity of the dance, practically as we have it, from lines 187-8, Book VI. of the Odyssey:

"Joyful they see applauding princes gaze
When stately in the dance they swim the harmonious maze."

[4]I am aware I place Kapilavasta nearer the Vale of Cashmere than most, but as two such writers as Beal and Rhys Davids differ 30 yojanas, or 180 miles in its location, and as no remains have yet been identified at all corresponding to the grandeur of the ancient city as described by all Buddhist writers, I felt free to indulge my fancy. Perhaps these ruins may yet be found by some chance traveler in some unexplored jungle.

BOOK III.

And now his cup with every blessing filled
Full to the brim, to overflowing full,
What more has life to give or heart to wish?
Stately in form, with every princely grace,
A very master of all manly arts,
His gentle manners making all his friends,
His young blood bounding on in healthful flow,
His broad domains rich in all earth can yield,
Guarded by nature and his people's love,
And now that deepest of all wants supplied,
The want of one to share each inmost thought,
Whose sympathy can soothe each inmost smart,
Whose presence, care and loving touch can make
The palace or the humblest cottage home,
His life seemed rounded, perfect, full, complete.
And they were happy as the days glide on,
And when at night, locked in each other's arms,
They sink to rest, heart beating close to heart,
Their thoughts all innocence and trust and love,
It almost seemed as if remorseless Time
Had backward rolled his tide, and brought again
The golden age, with all its peace and joy,
And our first parents, ere the tempter came,
Were taking sweet repose in paradise.
But as one night they slept, a troubled dream
Disturbed the prince. He dreamed he saw one come,
As young and fair as sweet Yasodhara,
But clad in widow's weeds, and in her arms
A lifeless child, crying: "Most mighty prince!
O bring me back my husband and my child!"
But he could only say "Alas! poor soul!"
And started out of sleep he cried "Alas!"
Which waked the sweet Yasodhara, who asked,
"What ails my love?" "Only a troubled dream,"
The prince replied, but still she felt him tremble,
And kissed and stroked his troubled brow,
And soothed him into quiet sleep again.
And then once more he dreamed—a pleasing dream.
He dreamed he heard strange music, soft and sweet;
He only caught its burden: "Peace, be still!"
And then he thought he saw far off a light,
And there a place where all was peace and rest,
And waking sighed to find it all a dream.

One day this happy couple, side by side,
Rode forth alone, Yasodhara unveiled—
"For why," said she, "should those whose thoughts are pure
Like guilty things hide from their fellow-men?"—
Rode through the crowded streets, their only guard
The people's love, strongest and best of guards;
For many arms would spring to their defense,
While some grim tyrant, at whose stern command
A million swords would from their scabbards leap,
Cringes in terror behind bolts and bars,
Starts at each sound, and fears some hidden mine
May into atoms blow his stately towers,
Or that some hand unseen may strike him down,
And thinks that poison lurks in every cup,
While thousands are in loathsome dungeons thrust
Or pine in exile for a look or word.
And as they pass along from street to street
A sea of happy faces lines their way,
Their joyful greetings answered by the prince.
No face once seen, no name once heard, forgot,
While sweet Yasodhara was wreathed in smiles,
The kind expression of her gentle heart,
When from a little cottage by the way,
The people making room for him to pass,
There came an aged man, so very old
That time had ceased to register his years;
His step was firm, his eye, though faded, mild,
And childhood's sweet expression on his face.
The prince stopped short before him, bending low,
And gently asked: "What would my father have?
Speak freely—what I can, I freely give."
"Most noble prince, I need no charity,
For my kind neighbors give me all unasked,
And my poor cottage where my fathers dwelt,
And where my children and their mother died,
Is kept as clean as when sweet Gunga lived;
And young and old cheer up my lonely hours,
And ask me much of other times and men.
For when your father's father was a child,
I was a man, as young and strong as you,
And my sweet Gunga your companion's age.
But O the mystery of life explain!
Why are we born to tread this little round,
To live, to love, to suffer, sorrow, die?
Why do the young like field-flowers bloom to fade?
Why are the strong like the mown grass cut down?
Why am I left as if by death forgot,
Left here alone, a leafless, fruitless trunk?
Is death the end, or what comes after death?
Often when deepest sleep shuts out the world,
The dead still seem to live, while life fades out;
And when I sit alone and long for light
The veil seems lifted, and I seem to see
A world of life and light and peace and rest,
No sickness, sin or sorrow, pain or death,
No helpless infancy or hopeless age.
But we poor Sudras cannot understand—
Yet from my earliest memory I've heard
That from this hill one day should burst a light,
Not for the Brahmans only, but for all.
And when you were a child I saw a sage
Bow down before you, calling you that light.
O noble, mighty prince! let your light shine,
That men no longer grope in dark despair!"

He spoke, and sank exhausted on the ground.
They gently raised him, but his life was fled.
The prince gave one a well-filled purse and said:
"Let his pile neither lack for sandal-wood
Or any emblem of a life well spent."
And when fit time had passed they bore him thence
And laid him on that couch where all sleep well,
Half hid in flowers by loving children brought,
A smile still lingering on his still, cold lips,
As if they just had tasted Gunga's kiss,
Soon to be kissed by eager whirling flames.

Just then two stately Brahmans proudly passed—
Passed on the other side, gathering their robes
To shun pollution from the common touch,
And passing said: "The prince with Sudras talks
As friend to friend—but wisdom comes with years."

Silent and thoughtful then they homeward turned,
The prince deep musing on the old man's words;
"'The veil is lifted, and I seem to see
A world of life and light and peace and rest.'
O if that veil would only lift for me
The mystery of life would be explained."
As they passed on through unfrequented streets,
Seeking to shun the busy, thoughtless throng,
Those other words like duty's bugle-call
Still ringing in his ears: "Let your light shine,
That men no longer grope in dark despair"—
The old sad thoughts, long checked by passing joys,
Rolling and surging, swept his troubled soul—
As pent-up waters, having burst their dams,
Sweep down the valleys and o'erwhelm the plains.