But though the beasts have lairs, the birds have nests,
Buddha had not whereon to lay his head,
Not even a mountain-cave to call his home;
And forth he fared, heedless about his way—
For every way was now alike to him.
Heedless of food, his alms-bowl hung unused.
While all the people stood aside with awe,
And to their children pointed out the man
Who plead the shepherd's cause before the king.
At length he passed the city's western gate,
And crossed the little plain circling its walls.
Circled itself by five bold hills that rise,
A rugged, rampart and an outer wall.
Two outer gates this mountain rampart had,
The one a narrow valley opening west
Toward Gaya, through the red Barabar hills.
Through which the rapid Phalgu swiftly glides,
Down from the Vindhya mountains far away,
Then gently winds around this fruitful plain,
Its surface green with floating lotus leaves.
And bright with lotus blossoms, blue and white,
O'erhung with drooping trees and trailing vines,
Till through the eastern gate it hastens on,
To lose itself in Gunga's sacred stream.
Toward Gaya now Siddartha bent his steps,
Distant the journey of a single day
As men marked distance in those ancient times,
No longer heeded in this headlong age,
When we count moments by the miles we pass;
And one may see the sun sink out of sight.
Behind great banks of gray and wintry clouds,
While feathery snowflakes fill the frosty air,
And after quiet sleep may wake next day
To see it bathe green fields with floods of light,
And dry the sparkling dew from opening flowers,
And hear the joyful burst of vernal song,
And breathe the balmy air of opening spring.
And as he went, weary and faint and sad,
The valley opening showed a pleasant grove,
Where many trees mingled their grateful shade,
And many blossoms blended sweet perfumes;
And there, under a drooping vakul-tree,
A bower of roses and sweet jasmine vines,
Within a couch, without a banquet spread,
While near a fountain with its falling spray
Ruffled the surface of a shining pool,
Whose liquid cadence mingled with the songs
Of many birds concealed among the trees.
And there three seeming sister graces were,[2]
Fair as young Venus rising from the sea,
The one in seeming childlike innocence
Bathed in the pool, while her low liquid laugh
Rung sweet and clear; and one her vina tuned,
And as she played, the other lightly danced,
Clapping her hands, tinkling her silver bells,
Whose gauzy silken garments seemed to show
Rather than hide her slender, graceful limbs.
And she who played the vina sweetly sang;
"Come to our bower and take your rest—
Life is a weary road at best.
Eat, for your board is richly spread;
Drink, for your wine is sparkling red;
Rest, for the weary day is past;
Sleep, for the shadows gather fast.
Tune not your vina-strings too high,
Strained they will break and the music die.
Come to our bower and take your rest—
Life is a weary road at best."
But Buddha, full of pity, passing said:
"Alas, poor soul! flitting a little while
Like painted butterflies before the lamp
That soon will burn your wings; like silly doves,
Calling the cruel kite to seize and kill;
Displaying lights to be the robber's guide;
Enticing men to wrong, who soon despise.
Ah! poor, perverted, cold and cruel world!
Delights of love become the lures of lust,
The joys of heaven changed into fires of hell."
[1]I am aware there are many who think that Buddha did not believe in prayer, which Arnold puts into his own mouth in these words, which sound like the clanking of chains in a prison-vault:
"Pray not! the darkness will not brighten! Ask
Nought from Silence, for it cannot speak!"
Buddha did teach that mere prayers without any effort to overcome our evils is of no more use than for a merchant to pray the farther bank of a swollen stream to come to him without seeking any means to cross, which merely differs in words from the declaration of St. James that faith without works is dead; but if he ever taught that the earnest yearning of a soul for help, which is the essence of prayer, is no aid in the struggle for a higher life, then my whole reading has been at fault, and the whole Buddhist worship has been a departure from the teachings of its founder.
[2]Mara dispatched three pleasure-girls from the north quarter to come and tempt him. Their names were Tanha, Rati and Ranga. Fa Hian (Beal), p. 120.