The father, anxious for his absent son,
Had sought him through the night from street to street
In every haunt that youthful folly seeks,
And now despairing sought the sacred grove—
Perhaps by chance, perhaps led by the light
That guides the pigeon to her distant home—
And found him there. He too the Buddha heard,
And finding light, and filled with joy, he said:
"Illustrious master, you have found the way.
You place the upturned chalice on its base.
You fill with light the sayings dark of old.
You open blinded eyes to see the truth."
At length they thought of those poor hearts at home,
Mother and sister, watching through the night—
Waiting and watching through the livelong day,
Startled at every step, at every sound,
Startled at every bier that came in view
In that great city of the stranger dead,
That city where the living come to die—
And home returned when evening's rose and gold
Had faded from the sky, and myriad lamps
Danced on the sacred stream, and moon and stars
Hung quivering in its dark and silent depths.
But day by day returned, eager to hear
More of that truth that sweetens daily life,
Yet reaches upward to eternal day.
A marriage-feast,[3] three festivals in one,
Stirs to its depths Benares' social life.
A gorgeous sunset ushers in the night,
Sunset and city mirrored in the stream.
Broad marble steps upon the river-bank
Lead to a garden where a blaze of bloom,
A hedge of rose-trees, forms the outer wall;
An aged banyan-tree,[4] whose hundred trunks
Sustain a vaulted roof of living green
Which scarce a ray of noonday's sun can pierce,
The garden's vestibule and outer court;
While trees of every varied leaf and bloom
Shade many winding walks, where fountains fall
With liquid cadence into shining pools.
Above, beyond, the stately palace stands,
Inviting in, calling to peace and rest,
As if a soul dwelt in its marble form.
The darkness thickens, when a flood of light
Fills every recess, lighting every nook;
The garden hedge a wall of mellow light,
A line of lamps along the river's bank,
With lamps in every tree and lining every walk,
While lamps thick set surround each shining pool,
Weaving with rainbow tints the falling spray.
And now the palace through the darkness shines.
A thing of beauty traced with lines of light.[5]
The guests arrive in light and graceful boats,
In gay gondolas such as Venice used,
With richest carpets, richest canopies,
And over walks with rose-leaves carpeted
Pass to the palace, whose wide open gates
Display within Benares' rank and wealth,
Proud Brahman lords and stately Brahman dames
And Brahman youth and beauty, all were there,
Of Aryan blood but bronzed by India's sun,
Not dressed like us, as very fashion-plates,
But clothed in flowing robes of softest wool
And finest silk, a harmony of shades,
Sparkling with gems, ablaze with precious stones.[6]
Three noble couples greet their gathering guests:
An aged Brahman and his aged wife,
For fifty years united in the bonds
Of wedded love, no harsh, unloving word
For all those happy years, their only fear
That death would break the bonds that bound their souls;
And next their eldest born, who sought his son,
And drank deep wisdom from the Buddha's lips,
And by his side that mother we have seen
Outwatch the night, whose sweet and earnest face
By five and twenty years of wedded love,
By five and twenty years of busy cares—
The cares of home, with all its daily joys—
Had gained that look of holy motherhood[7]
That millions worship on their bended knees
As highest emblem of eternal love;
And last that sister whose untiring love
Watched by her mother through the weary hours,
Her fair young face all trust and happiness,
Before her, rainbow-tinted hopes and joys,
Life's dark and cold and cruel side concealed,
And by her side a noble Brahman youth,
Who saw in her his every hope fulfilled.
But where is now that erring, wandering son,
The pride of all these loyal, loving hearts,
Heir to this wealth and hope of this proud house?
Seven clothed in coarsest yellow robes draw near
With heads close shorn and bare, unsandaled feet,
Alms-bowl on shoulder slung and staff in hand,
But moving with that gentle stateliness
That birth and blood, not wealth and effort, give,
All in the strength of manhood's early prime,
All heirs to wealth rejected, cast aside,
But all united in the holy cause
Of giving light and hope and help to all,
While earnest greetings from the evening's hosts
Show they are welcome and expected guests.
Startled, the stately Brahmans turn aside.
"The heir has lost his reason," whispered they,
"And joined that wandering prince who late appeared
Among the yogis in the sacred grove,
Who thinks he sees the truth by inner sight,
Who fain would teach the wise, and claims to know
More than the fathers and the Vedas teach."
But as he nearer came, his stately form,
His noble presence and his earnest face,
Beaming with gentleness and holy love,
Hushed into silence every rising sneer.
One of their number, wise in sacred lore,
Profoundly learned, in all the Vedas versed,
With courtly grace saluting Buddha, said:
"Our Brahman masters teach that many ways
Lead up to Brahma Loca, Brahma's rest,
As many roads from many distant lands
All meet before Benares' sacred shrines.
They say that he who learns the Vedas' hymns,
Performs the rites and prays the many prayers
That all the sages of the past have taught,
In Brahma's self shall be absorbed at last—
As all the streams from mountain, hill and plain,
That swell proud Gunga's broad and sacred stream,
At last shall mingle with the ocean's waves,
They say that Brahmans are a holy caste,
Of whiter skin and higher, purer blood,
From Brahma sprung, and Brahma's only heirs,
While you proclaim, if rumor speaks the truth,
That only one hard road to Brahma leads,
That every caste is pure, of common blood,
That all are brothers, all from Brahma sprung."
But Buddha, full of gentleness, replied:
"Ye call on Dyaus Pittar, Brahma, God,[8]
One God and Father, called by many names,
One God and Father, seen in many forms,
Seen in the tempest, mingling sea and sky,
The blinding sand-storm, changing day to night,
In gentle showers refreshing thirsty fields,
Seen in the sun whose rising wakes the world,
Whose setting calls a weary world to rest,
Seen in the deep o'erarching azure vault,
By day a sea of light, shining by night
With countless suns of countless worlds unseen,
Making us seem so little, God so great.
Ye say that Brahma dwells in purest light;
Ye say that Brahma's self is perfect love;
Ye pray to Brahma under many names
To give you Brahma Loca's perfect rest.[9]
Your prayers are vain unless your hearts are clean.
For how can darkness dwell with perfect light?
And how can hatred dwell with perfect love?
The slandering tongue, that stirs up strife and hate,
The grasping hand, that takes but never gives,
The lying lips, the cold and cruel heart,
Whence bitterness and wars and murders spring,
Can ne'er by prayers to Brahma Loca climb.[10]
The pure in heart alone with Brahma dwell.
Ye say that Brahmans are a holy caste,
From Brahma sprung and Brahma's only heirs;
But yet in Bactria, whence our fathers came,
And where their brothers and our kindred dwell,
No Brahman ever wore the sacred cord.
Has mighty Brahma there no son, no heir?
The Brahman mother suffers all the pangs
Kshatriyas, Sudras or the Vassas feel.
The Brahman's body, when the soul has fled,
A putrid mass, defiles the earth and air,
Vile as the Sudras or the lowest beasts.
The Brahman murderer, libertine or thief
Ye say will be reborn in lowest beast,
While some poor Sudra, full of gentleness
And pity, charity and trust and love,
May rise to Brahma Loca's perfect rest,
Why boast of caste, that seems so little worth
To raise the soul or ward off human ill?
Why pray for what we do not strive to gain?
Like merchants on the swollen Ganges' bank
Praying the farther shore to come to them,
Taking no steps, seeking no means, to cross.
Far better strive to cast out greed and hate.
Live not for self, but live for others' good.
Indulge no bitter speech, no bitter thoughts.
Help those in need; give freely what we have.
Kill not, steal not, and ever speak the truth.
Indulge no lust; taste not the maddening bowl
That deadens sense and stirs all base desires;
And live in charity and gentle peace,
Bearing all meekly, loving those who hate.
This is the way to Brahma Loca's rest.
And ye who may, come, follow after me.
Leave wealth and home and all the joys of life,
That we may aid a sad and suffering world
In sin and sorrow groping blindly on,
Becoming poor that others may be rich,
Wanderers ourselves to lead the wanderers home.
And ye who stay, ever remember this:
That hearth is Brahma's altar where love reigns,
That house is Brahma's temple where love dwells,
Ye ask, my aged friends, if death can break
The bonds that bind your souls in wedded love.
Fear not; death has no power to conquer love.
Go hand in hand till death shall claim his own,
Then hand in hand ascend Nirvana's heights,
There, hand in hand, heart beating close to heart,
Enter that life whose joys shall never end,
Perennial youth succeeding palsied age,
Mansions of bliss for this poor house of clay,
Labors of love instead of toil and tears."