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Warner - World's Best Literature - v02 - Aqu to Bag
In the autumn she sent him away, well
laden with money, to his own home in the south. The next
summer, and more than one summer following, he spent in her
employ, always being paid as his heart could desire, at the end.
of the season.
## p. 809 (#227) ############################################
JON ARNASON
809
After some years he took a farm of his own in the south
country, and was always looked upon by all his neighbors as an
honest man, a good fisherman, and an able workman in whatever
he might put his hand to. He always cut his own hay, never
using any scythe but that which the elf-woman had given him
upon the mountains; nor did any of his neighbors ever finish
their mowing before him.
One summer it chanced that while he was fishing, one of his
neighbors came to his house and asked his wife to lend him her
husband's scythe, as he had lost his own. The farmer's wife
looked for one, but could only find the one upon which her hus-
band set such store. This, however, a little loth, she lent to the
man, begging him at the same time never to temper it in the
fire; for that, she said, her good man never did. So the neigh-
bor promised, and taking it with him, bound it to a handle and
began to work with it. But, sweep as he would, and strain as
he would (and sweep and strain he did right lustily), not a single
blade of grass fell. Wroth at this, the man tried to sharpen it,
but with no avail. Then he took it into his forge, intending to
temper it, for, thought he, what harm could that possibly do?
but as soon as the flames touched it, the steel melted like wax,
and nothing was left but a little heap of ashes. Seeing this, he
went in haste to the farmer's house, where he had borrowed it,
and told the woman what had happened; she was at her wits'
end with fright and shame when she heard it, for she knew well
enough how her husband set store by this scythe, and how angry
he would be at its loss.
And angry indeed he was, when he came home, and he beat
his wife well for her folly in lending what was not hers to lend.
But his wrath was soon over, and he never again, as he never
had before, laid the stick about his wife's shoulders.
THE MAN-SERVANT AND THE WATER-ELVES
I
NA large house, where all the chief rooms were paneled, there
lived once upon a time a farmer, whose ill-fate it was that
every servant of his that was left alone to guard the house
on Christmas Eve, while the rest of the family went to church,
was found dead when the family returned home.
As soon as
the report of this was spread abroad, the farmer had the greatest
## p. 810 (#228) ############################################
810
JÓN ARNASON
difficulty in procuring servants who would consent to watch alone
in the house on that night; until at last one day a man, a strong
fellow, offered him his services, to sit up alone and guard the
house. The farmer told him what fate awaited him for his rash-
ness; but the man despised such a fear, and persisted in his
determination.
On Christmas Eve, when the farmer and all his family, except
the new man-servant, were preparing for church, the farmer said
to him, "Come with us to church; I cannot leave you here to
die. "
But the other replied, "I intend to stay here, for it would be
unwise in you to leave your house unprotected; and besides, the
cattle and sheep must have their food at the proper time. "
"Never mind the beasts," answered the farmer. "Do not be
so rash as to remain in the house this night; for whenever we
have returned from church on this night, we have always found
every living thing in the house dead, with all its bones broken. "
But the man was not to be persuaded, as he considered all
these fears beneath his notice; so the farmer and the rest of the
servants went away and left him behind, alone in the house.
As soon as he was by himself he began to consider how to
guard against anything that might occur; for a dread had stolen
over him, in spite of his courage, that something strange was
about to take place. At last he thought that the best thing to do
was, first of all to light up the family room; and then to find
some place in which to hide himself. As soon as he had lighted
all the candles, he moved two planks out of the wainscot at the
end of the room, and creeping into the space between it and the
wall, restored the planks to their places, so that he could see
plainly into the room and yet avoid being himself discovered.
He had scarcely finished concealing himself, when two fierce
and strange-looking men entered the room and began looking
about.
One of them said, "I smell a human being. "
"No," replied the other, "there is no human being here. "
Then they took a candle and continued their search, until they
found the man's dog asleep under one of the beds. They took it
up, and having dashed it on the ground till every bone in its
body was broken, hurled it from them. When the man-servant
saw this, he congratulated himself on not having fallen into their
hands.
## p. 811 (#229) ############################################
JÓN ARNASON
811
Suddenly the room was filled with people, who were laden
with tables and all kinds of table furniture, silver, cloths, and all,
which they spread out, and having done so, sat down to a rich
supper, which they had also brought with them. They feasted
noisily, and spent the remainder of the night in drinking and
dancing. Two of them were appointed to keep guard, in order
to give the company due warning of the approach either of any-
body or of the day. Three times they went out, always returning
with the news that they saw neither the approach of any human
being, nor yet of the break of day.
But when the man-servant suspected the night to be pretty
far spent, he jumped from his place of concealment into the
room, and clashing the two planks together with as much noise
as he could make, shouted like a madman, "The day! the day!
the day! "
On these words the whole company rose scared from their
seats, and rushed headlong out, leaving behind them not only
their tables, and all the silver dishes, but even the very clothes
they had taken off for ease in dancing. In the hurry of flight
many were wounded and trodden under foot, while the rest ran
into the darkness, the man-servant after them, clapping the
planks together and shrieking, "The day! the day! the day! "
until they came to a large lake, into which the whole party
plunged headlong and disappeared.
From this the man knew them to be water-elves.
Then he returned home, gathered the corpses of the elves
who had been killed in the flight, killed the wounded ones, and,
making a great heap of them all, burned them. When he had
finished this task, he cleaned up the house and took possession
of all the treasures the elves had left behind them.
On the farmer's return, his servant told him all that had
occurred, and showed him the spoils. The farmer praised him
for a brave fellow, and congratulated him on having escaped
with his life. The man gave him half the treasures of the elves,
and ever afterward prospered exceedingly.
This was the last visit the water-elves ever paid to that house.
## p. 812 (#230) ############################################
812
JÓN ARNASON
THE CROSSWAYS
IT
T IS supposed that among the hills there are certain cross-roads,
from the centre of which you can see four churches, one at
the end of each road.
If you sit at the crossing of these roads on Christmas Eve
(or as others say, on New Year's Eve), elves come from every
direction and cluster round you, and ask you, with all sorts of
blandishments and fair promises, to go with them; but you must
continue silent. Then they bring to you rarities and delicacies
of every description, gold, silver, and precious stones, meats and
wines, of which they beg you to accept; but you must neither
move a limb nor accept a single thing they offer you. If you
get so far as this without speaking, elf-women come to you in the
likeness of your mother, your sister, or any other relation, and
beg you to come with them, using every art and entreaty; but
beware you neither move nor speak. And if you can continue
to keep silent and motionless all the night, until you see the first
streak of dawn, then start up and cry aloud, "Praise be to God!
His daylight filleth the heavens! "
As soon as you have said this, the elves will leave you, and
with you all the wealth they have used to entice you, which will
now be yours.
But should you either answer, or accept of their offers, you
will from that moment become mad.
On the night of one Christmas Eve, a man named Fusi was
out on the cross-roads, and managed to resist all the entreaties.
and proffers of the elves, until one of them offered him a large
lump of mutton-suet, and begged him to take a bite of it. Fusi,
who had up to this time gallantly resisted all such offers as gold
and silver and diamonds and such filthy lucre, could hold out no
longer, and crying, "Seldom have I refused a bite of mutton-
suet," he went mad.
## p. 813 (#231) ############################################
813
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
(1769-1860)
PRUNG from the sturdy peasant stock of the north, to which
patriotism is a chief virtue, Ernst Moritz Arndt first saw the
light at Schoritz, Island of Rügen (then a dependency of
Sweden), December 29th, 1769. His father, once a serf, had achieved
a humble independence, and he destined his clever son for the min-
istry, the one vocation open to him which meant honor and advance-
ment. The young man studied theology at Greifswald and Jena, but
later turned his attention exclusively to history and literature. His
early life is delightfully described in his
'Stories and Recollections of Childhood. '
His youth was molded by the influence of
Goethe, Klopstock, Bürger, and Voss. After
completing his university studies he trav-
eled extensively in Austria, Hungary, and
Northern Italy. His account of these jour-
neys, published in 1802, shows his keen
observation of men and affairs.
<
ERNST ARNDT
(
He began his long service to his coun-
try by his History of Serfdom in Pomera-
nia and Sweden,' which contributed largely
to the general abolition of the ancient
abuse. He became professor of history in
the University of Greifswald in 1806, and about that time began to
publish the first series of the Spirit of the Times. ' These were
stirring appeals to rouse the Germans against the oppressions of
Napoleon. In consequence he was obliged to flee to Sweden. After
three years he returned under an assumed name, and again took up
his work at Greifswald. In 1812, after the occupation of Pomerania
by the French, his fierce denunciations again forced him to flee, this
time to Russia, the only refuge open to him. There he joined Baron
von Stein, who eagerly made use of him in his schemes for the
liberation of Germany. At this time his finest poems were written:
those kindling war songs that appealed so strongly to German
patriotism, when "songs were sermons and sermons were songs. "
The most famous of these, 'What is the German's Fatherland ? >
"The Song of the Field-marshal,' and 'The God Who Made Earth's
Iron Hoard,' still live as national lyrics.
Arndt was also constantly occupied in writing pamphlets of the
most stirring nature, as their titles show:-'The Rhine, Germany's
## p. 814 (#232) ############################################
814
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
River, but Never Germany's Boundary'; 'The Soldier's Catechism';
and The Militia and the General Levy. ' After the disasters of the
French in Russia, he returned to Germany, unceasingly devoted to
his task of rousing the people. Though by birth a Swede, he had
become at heart a Prussian, seeing in Prussia alone the possibility of
German unity.
In 1817 he married Schleiermacher's sister, and the following year
was appointed professor of history in the newly established University
of Bonn. Shortly afterward suspended, on account of his liberal
views, he was forced to spend twenty years in retirement. His
leisure gave opportunity for literary work, however, and he availed
himself of it by producing several historical treatises and his inter-
esting Reminiscences of My Public Life. ' One of the first acts of
Frederick William IV. , after his accession, was to restore Arndt to
his professorship at Bonn. He took a lively interest in the events of
1848, and belonged to the deputation that offered the imperial crown
to the King of Prussia. He continued in the hope and the advocacy
of German unity, though he did not live to see it realized. The
ninetieth birthday of "Father Arndt," as he was fondly called by
his countrymen, was celebrated with general rejoicing throughout
Germany. He died shortly afterward, on January 29th, 1860.
Arndt's importance as a poet is due to the stirring scenes of his
earlier life and the political needs of Germany. He was no genius.
He was not even a deep scholar. His only great work is his war-
songs and patriotic ballads. Germany honors his manly character
and patriotic zeal in that stormy period of Liberation which led
through many apparent defeats to the united Empire of to-day.
The best German biographies are that of Schenkel (1869), W.
Baur (1882), and Langenberg (1869); the latter in 1878 edited 'Arndt's
Letters to a Friend. ' J. R. Seeley's 'Life and Adventures of E. M.
Arndt (1879) is founded on the latter's 'Reminiscences of My Public
Life. '
WHAT IS THE GERMAN'S FATHERLAND?
WHAT is the German's fatherland?
WHA
Is it Prussia, or the Swabian's land?
Is it where the grape glows on the Rhine?
Where sea-gulls skim the Baltic's brine ?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Bavaria, or the Styrian's land?
## p. 815 (#233) ############################################
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
815
Is it where the Master's cattle graze ?
Is it the Mark where forges blaze?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Westphalia? Pomerania's strand?
Where the sand drifts along the shore?
Or where the Danube's surges roar?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Now name for me that mighty land!
Is it Switzerland? or Tyrols, tell;
The land and people pleased me well!
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Now name for me that mighty land!
Ah! Austria surely it must be,
So rich in fame and victory.
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Tell me the name of that great land!
Is it the land which princely hate
Tore from the Emperor and the State?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Now name at last that mighty land!
"Where'er resounds the German tongue,
Where'er its hymns to God are sung! "
That is the land,
Brave German, that thy fatherland!
That is the German's fatherland!
Where binds like oak the claspèd hand,
Where truth shines clearly from the eyes,
And in the heart affection lies.
Be this the land,
Brave German, this thy fatherland!
## p. 816 (#234) ############################################
816
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
That is the German's fatherland!
Where scorn shall foreign triflers brand,
Where all are foes whose deeds offend,
Where every noble soul's a friend:
Be this the land,
All Germany shall be the land!
All Germany that land shall be:
Watch o'er it, God, and grant that we,
With German hearts, in deed and thought,
May love it truly as we ought.
Be this the land,
All Germany shall be the land!
THE SONG OF THE FIELD-MARSHAL
HAT'S the blast from the trumpets? Hussars, to the
fray!
WHAT'S
The field-marshal* rides in the rolling mellay;
So gay on his mettlesome war-horse he goes,
So fierce waves his glittering sword at his foes.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
Oh, see as he comes how his piercing eyes gleam!
Oh, see how behind him his snowy locks stream!
So fresh blooms his age, like a well-ripened wine,
He may well as the battle-field's autocrat shine.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
It was he, when his country in ruin was laid,
Who sternly to heaven uplifted his blade,
And swore on the brand, with a heart burning high,
To show Frenchmen the trade that the Prussians could ply.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
That oath he has kept. When the battle-cry rang,
Hey! how the gray youth to the saddle upsprang!
He made a sweep-dance for the French in the room,
And swept the land clean with a steel-ended broom.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
* Blücher.
## p. 817 (#235) ############################################
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
817
At Lützen, in the meadow, he kept up such a strife,
That many thousand Frenchmen there yielded up their life;
That thousands ran headlong for very life's sake,
And thousands are sleeping who never will wake.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
On the water, at Katzbach, his oath was in trim:
He taught in a moment the Frenchmen to swim.
Farewell, Frenchmen; fly to the Baltic to save!
You mob without breeches, catch whales for your grave.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
At Wartburg, on the Elbe, how he cleared him a path!
Neither fortress nor town barred the French from his wrath;
Like hares o'er the field they all scuttled away,
While behind them the hero rang out his Huzza!
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
At Leipzig-O glorious fight on the plain! -
French luck and French might strove against him in vain;
There beaten and stiff lay the foe in their blood,
And there dear old Blücher a field-marshal stood.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
Then sound, blaring trumpets! Hussars, charge once more!
Ride, field-marshal, ride like the wind in the roar!
To the Rhine, over Rhine, in your triumph advance!
Brave sword of our country, right on into France!
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful; they're shouting hurrah!
PATRIOTIC SONG
G
OD, who gave iron, purposed ne'er
That man should be a slave:
Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear
In his right hand He gave.
Therefore He gave him fiery mood,
Fierce speech, and free-born breath,
That he might fearlessly the feud
Maintain through life and death.
11-52
## p. 818 (#236) ############################################
818
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
Therefore will we what God did say,
With honest truth, maintain,
And ne'er a fellow-creature slay,
A tyrant's pay to gain!
But he shall fall by stroke of brand
Who fights for sin and shame,
And not inherit German land
With men of German name.
O Germany, bright fatherland!
O German love, so true!
Thou sacred land, thou beauteous land,
We swear to thee anew!
Outlawed, each knave and coward shall
The crow and raven feed;
But we will to the battle all-
Revenge shall be our meed.
Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can,
To bright and flaming life!
Now all ye Germans, man for man,
Forth to the holy strife!
Your hands lift upward to the sky-
Your heart shall upward soar—
And man for man, let each one cry,
Our slavery is o'er!
Let sound, let sound, whatever can,
Trumpet and fife and drum.
This day our sabres, man for man,
To stain with blood we come:
With hangman's and with Frenchmen's blood,
O glorious day of ire,
That to all Germans soundeth good-
Day of our great desire!
Let wave, let wave, whatever can,
Standard and banner wave!
Here will we purpose, man for man,
To grace a hero's grave.
Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-
Your banners wave on high;
We'll gain us freedom's victory,
Or freedom's death we'll die!
-
## p. 819 (#237) ############################################
819
•
EDWIN ARNOLD
(1832-)
HE favorite and now venerable English poet, Edwin Arnold,
showed his skill in smooth and lucid verse early in life. In
1852, when twenty years of age, he won the Newdigate
Prize at Oxford for a poem, 'The Feast of Belshazzar. ' Two years
later, after graduation with honors, he was named second master of
Edward the Sixth's School at Birmingham; and, a few years subse-
quent, principal of the Government Sanskrit College at Poona, in
India. In 1856 he published Griselda, a Tragedy'; and after his
return to London in 1861, translations from the Greek of Herodotus
and the Sanskrit of the Indian classic 'Hitopadeça,' the latter under
the name of 'The Book of Good Counsels. ' There followed from his
pen Education in India'; 'A History of the Administration in India
under the Late Marquis of Dalhousie (1862-64); and 'The Poets of
Greece,' a collection of fine passages (1869). In addition to his other
labors he has been one of the editors-in-chief of the London Daily
Telegraph.
Saturated with the Orient, familiar with every aspect of its civ-
ilization, moral and religious life, history and feeling, Sir Edwin's
literary work has attested his knowledge in a large number of
smaller poetical productions, and a group of religious epics of long
and impressive extent. Chiefest among them ranks that on the life
and teachings of Buddha, 'The Light of Asia; or, The Great Renun-
ciation' (1879). It has passed through more than eighty editions in
this country, and almost as many in England. In recognition of this
work Mr. Arnold was decorated by the King of Siam with the Order
of the White Elephant. Two years after its appearance he published
'Mahabharata,' 'Indian Idylls,' and in 1883, 'Pearls of the Faith; or,
Islam's Rosary Being the Ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah,
with Comments in Verse from Various Oriental Sources. ' In 1886
the Sultan conferred on him the Imperial Order of Osmanli, and in
1888 he was created Knight Commander of the Indian Empire by
Queen Victoria. 'Sa'di in the Garden; or, The Book of Love'
(1888), a poem turning on a part of the 'Bôstâni' of the Persian
poet Sa'di, brought Sir Edwin the Order of the Lion and Sun from
the Shah of Persia. In 1888 he published also 'Poems National and
Non-Oriental. ' Since then he has written 'The Light of the World';
'Potiphar's Wife, and Other Poems' (1892); 'The Iliad and Odyssey
of Asia,' and in prose, 'India Revisited' (1891); 'Seas and Lands';
## p. 820 (#238) ############################################
820
EDWIN ARNOLD
'Japonica,' which treats of life and things Japanese; and 'Adzuma,
the Japanese Wife: a Play in Four Acts' (1893). During his travels
in Japan the Emperor decorated him with the Order of the Rising
Sun. In 1893 Sir Edwin was chosen President of the Birmingham
and Midland Institute. His latest volume, The Tenth Muse and
Other Poems,' appeared in 1895.
'The Light of Asia,' the most successful of his works, attracted
instant attention on its appearance, as a novelty of rich Indian local
color. In substance it is a graceful and dramatic paraphrase of the
mass of more or less legendary tales of the life and spiritual career of
the Buddha, Prince Gautama, and a summary of the principles of the
great religious system originating with him. It is lavishly embel-
lished with Indian allusions, and expresses incidentally the very
spirit of the East. In numerous cantos, proceeding from episode to
episode of its mystical hero's career, its effect is that of a loftily
ethical, picturesque, and fascinating biography, in highly polished
verse. The metre selected is a graceful and dignified one, especially
associated with 'Paradise Lost' and other of the foremost classics of
English verse. Sir Edwin says of the poem in his preface, "I have
sought, by the medium of an imaginary Buddhist votary, to depict
the life and character and indicate the philosophy of that noble hero
and reformer, Prince Gautama of India, the founder of Buddhism;"
and the poet has admirably, if most flatteringly, succeeded. The
poem has been printed in innumerable cheap editions as well as
those de luxe; and while it has been criticized as too complaisant
a study of even primitive Buddhism, it is beyond doubt a lyrical
tract of eminent utility as well as seductive charm.
THIS
THE YOUTH OF BUDDHA
From The Light of Asia'
HIS reverence
Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters,
Albeit beyond their learning taught; in speech
Right gentle, yet so wise; princely of mien,
Yet softly mannered; modest, deferent,
And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood:
No bolder horseman in the youthful band
E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles;
No keener driver of the chariot
In mimic contest scoured the palace courts:
Yet in mid-play the boy would oft-times pause,
Letting the deer pass free; would oft-times yield
## p. 821 (#239) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
821
His half-won race because the laboring steeds
Fetched painful breath; or if his princely mates
Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream
Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the years
Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord,
Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves
To spread its shade afar; but hardly yet
Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears,
Save as strange names for things not felt by kings,
Nor ever to be felt. But it befell
In the royal garden on a day of spring,
A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north
To their nest-places on Himâla's breast.
Calling in love-notes down their snowy line
The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted;
And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince,
Pointed his bow, and loosed a willful shaft
Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan
Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road,
So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed,
Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes.
Which seeing, Prince Siddârtha took the bird
Tenderly up, rested it in his lap,-
Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha sits,-
And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's fright,
Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick heart,
Caressed it into peace with light kind palms
As soft as plantain leaves an hour unrolled;
And while the left hand held, the right hand drew
The cruel steel forth from the wound, and laid
Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart.
Yet all so little knew the boy of pain,
That curiously into his wrist he pressed
The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting,
And turned with tears to soothe his bird again.
Then some one came who said, "My Prince hath shot
A swan, which fell among the roses here;
He bids me pray you send it. Will you send? "
"Nay," quoth Siddartha: "If the bird were dead,
To send it to the slayer might be well,
But the swan lives; my cousin hath but killed
The godlike speed which throbbed in this white wing. "
And Devadatta answered, "The wild thing,
Living or dead, is his who fetched it down;
## p. 822 (#240) ############################################
822
EDWIN ARNOLD
'Twas no man's in the clouds, but fallen 'tis mine.
Give me my prize, fair cousin. " Then our Lord
Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth cheek
And gravely spake: "Say no! the bird is mine,
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 savior of a life
Owns more the living thing than he 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 honor, he was gone;
And some one saw a hooded snake glide forth.
The gods come oft-times thus! So our Lord Buddha
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 plow-time. " So they rode
Into a land 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 plows; the fat soil rose and rolled
In smooth dark waves back from the plow; who drove
Planted both feet upon the leaping share
To make the furrow deep; among the palms
## p. 823 (#241) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
823
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 springtime. In the mango-sprays
The sunbirds 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 swart 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 jeweled 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 plowman and his laboring kine,
Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke,
The rage to live which makes all living strife—
The Prince Siddartha sighed. "Is 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!
## p. 824 (#242) ############################################
824
EDWIN ARNOLD
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
Dhyâna, first step of "the Path. "
THE PURE SACRIFICE OF BUDDHA
From The Light of Asia'
NWARD he passed,
Ο
Exceeding sorrowful, seeing how men
Fear so to die they are afraid to fear,
Lust so to live they dare not love their life,
But plague it with fierce penances, belike
To please the gods who grudge pleasure to man;
Belike to balk hell by self-kindled hells;
Belike in holy madness, hoping soul
May break the better through their wasted flesh.
"O flowerets of the field! " Siddârtha said,
་་
"Who turn your tender faces to the sun,
Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath
Of fragrance and these robes of reverence donned,
Silver and gold and purple, · - none of ye
Miss perfect living, none of ye despoil
-
Your happy beauty. O ye palms! which rise
Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind
Blown from Malaya and the cool blue seas;
What secret know ye that ye grow content,
From time of tender shoot to time of fruit,
Murmuring such sun-songs from your feathered crowns?
Ye too, who dwell so merry in the trees,
Quick-darting parrots, bee-birds, bulbuls, doves, -
None of ye hate your life, none of ye deem
To strain to better by foregoing needs!
But man, who slays ye-being lord-is wise,
## p. 825 (#243) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
825
And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thus forth
In self-tormentings! "
While the Master spake
Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet,
White goats and black sheep winding slow their way
With many a lingering nibble at the tufts,
And wanderings from the path, where water gleamed
Or wild figs hung. But always as they strayed
The herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and kept
The silly crowd still moving to the plain.
A ewe with couplets in the flock there was:
Some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled behind
Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped,
And the vexed dam hither and thither ran,
Fearful to lose this little one or that;
Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly
He took the limping lamb upon his neck,
Saying, "Poor wooly mother, be at peace!
Whither thou goest I will bear thy care;
'Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief
As sit and watch the sorrows of the world
In yonder caverns with the priests who pray. ”
"But," spake he of the herdsmen, "wherefore, friends!
Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon,
Since 'tis at evening that men fold their sheep? "
And answer gave the peasants:- "We are sent
To fetch a sacrifice of goats fivescore,
And fivescore sheep, the which our Lord the King
Slayeth this night in worship of his gods. "
Then said the Master, "I will also go! "
So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb.
Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun,
The wistful ewe low bleating at his feet.
Whom, when they came unto the river-side,
A woman-dove-eyed, young, with tearful face
And lifted hands-saluted, bending low:-
"Lord! thou art he," she said, "who yesterday
Had pity on me in the fig grove here,
Where I live lone and reared my child; but he,
Straying amid the blossoms, found a snake,
Which twined about his wrist, while he did laugh
And teased the quick forked tongue and opened mouth
## p. 826 (#244) ############################################
826
EDWIN ARNOLD
Of that cold playmate. But alas! ere long
He turned so pale and still, I could not think
Why he should cease to play, and let my breast
Fall from his lips. And one said, 'He is sick
Of poison; and another, 'He will die. '
But I, who could not lose my precious boy,
Prayed of them physic, which might bring the light
Back to his eyes; it was so very small,
That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think
It could not hate him, gracious as he was,
Nor hurt him in his sport. And some one said,
'There is a holy man upon the hill-
Lo! now he passeth in the yellow robe;
Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure
For that which ails thy son. ' Whereon I came
Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god's,
And wept and drew the face-cloth from my babe,
Praying thee tell what simples might be good.
And thou, great sir! didst spurn me not, but gaze
With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand;
Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me,
'Yea! little sister, there is that might heal
Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the thing:
For they who seek physicians bring to them
What is ordained. Therefore, I pray thee, find
Black mustard-seed, a tola; only mark
Thou take it not from any hand or house
Where father, mother, child, or slave hath died;
It shall be well if thou canst find such seed. '
Thus didst thou speak, my lord! "
The Master smiled
Exceeding tenderly. "Yea! I spake thus,
Dear Kisagôtami! But didst thou find
The seed? "
"I went, Lord, clasping to my breast
The babe, grown colder, asking at each hut,-
Here in the jungle and toward the town,—
'I pray you, give me mustard, of your grace,
A tola-black;' and each who had it gave,
For all the poor are piteous to the poor:
But when I asked, 'In my friend's household here
Hath any peradventure ever died—
Husband or wife, or child, or slave? ' they said:-
—
## p. 827 (#245) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
827
'O sister! what is this you ask? the dead
Are very many and the living few! '
So, with sad thanks, I gave the mustard back,
And prayed of others, but the others said,
'Here is the seed, but we have lost our slave! '
'Here is the seed, but our good man is dead! '
'Here is some seed, but he that sowed it died
Between the rain-time and the harvesting! '
Ah, sir! I could not find a single house
Where there was mustard-seed and none had died!
Therefore I left my child-who would not suck
Nor smile-beneath the wild vines by the stream,
To seek thy face and kiss thy feet, and pray
Where I might find this seed and find no death,
If now, indeed, my baby be not dead,
As I do fear, and as they said to me. "
"My sister! thou hast found," the Master said,
"Searching for what none finds, that bitter balm
I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept
Dead on thy bosom yesterday; to-day
Thou know'st the whole wide world weeps with thy woe;
The grief which all hearts share grows less for one.
Lo! I would pour my blood if it could stay
Thy tears, and win the secret of that curse
Which makes sweet love our anguish, and which drives
O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice —
As these dumb beasts are driven-men their lords.
I seek that secret: bury thou thy child! "
So entered they the city side by side,
The herdsmen and the Prince, what time the sun
Gilded slow Sona's distant stream, and threw
Long shadows down the street and through the gate
Where the King's men kept watch. But when these saw
Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood back,
The market-people drew their wains aside,
In the bazaar buyers and sellers stayed
The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face;
The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand,
Forgot to strike; the weaver left his web,
The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost
His count of cowries; from the unwatched rice
Shiva's white bull fed free; the wasted milk
Ran o'er the lota while the milkers watched
## p. 828 (#246) ############################################
828
EDWIN ARNOLD
The passage of our Lord moving so meek,
With yet so beautiful a majesty.
But most the women gathering in the doors
Asked, "Who is this that brings the sacrifice
So graceful and peace-giving as he goes?
What is his caste? whence hath he eyes so sweet?
Can he be Sâkra or the Devaraj ? »
And others said, "It is the holy man
Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill. "
But the Lord paced, in meditation lost,
Thinking, "Alas! for all my sheep which have
No shepherd; wandering in the night with none
To guide them; bleating blindly toward the knife.
Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are their kin. "
Then some one told the King, "There cometh here
A holy hermit, bringing down the flock
Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice. "
The King stood in his hall of offering;
On either hand the white-robed Brahmans ranged
Muttered their mantras, feeding still the fire
Which roared upon the midmost altar. There
From scented woods flickered bright tongues of flame,
Hissing and curling as they licked the gifts
Of ghee and spices and the Soma juice,
The joy of Indra. Round about the pile
A slow, thick, scarlet streamlet smoked and ran,
Sucked by the sand, but ever rolling down,
The blood of bleating victims. One such lay,
A spotted goat, long-horned, its head bound back.
With munja grass; at its stretched throat the knife
Pressed by a priest, who murmured, "This, dread gods,
Of many yajnas cometh as the crown
From Bimbasâra: take ye joy to see
The spirted blood, and pleasure in the scent
Of rich flesh roasting 'mid the fragrant flames;
Let the King's sins be laid upon this goat,
And let the fire consume them burning it,
For now I strike. "
But Buddha softly said,
"Let him not strike, great King! " and therewith loosed
The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great
His presence was. Then, craving leave, he spake
## p. 829 (#247) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
829
Of life, which all can take, but none can give,
Life, which all creatures love and strive to keep,
Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each,
Even to the meanest; yea, a boon to all
Where pity is, for pity makes the world
Soft to the weak and noble for the strong.
Unto the dumb lips of his flock he lent
Sad, pleading words, showing how man, who prays
For mercy to the 'gods, is merciless,
Being as god to those; albeit all life
Is linked and kin, and what we slay have given
Meek tribute of the milk and wool, and set
Fast trust upon the hands which murder them.
Also he spake of what the holy books
Do surely teach, how that at death some sink
To bird and beast, and these rise up to man
In wanderings of the spark which grows purged flame.
So were the sacrifice new sin, if so
The fated passage of a soul be stayed.
Nor, spake he, shall one wash his spirit clean
By blood; nor gladden gods, being good, with blood;
Nor bribe them, being evil; nay, nor lay
Upon the brow of innocent bound beasts
One hair's weight of that answer all must give
For all things done amiss or wrongfully,
Alone, each for himself, reckoning with that
The fixed arithmetic of the universe,
Which meteth good for good and ill or ill,
Measure for measure, unto deeds, words, thoughts;
Watchful, aware, implacable, unmoved;
Making all futures fruits of all the pasts.
Thus spake he, breathing words so piteous
With such high lordliness of ruth and right,
The priests drew back their garments o'er the hands
Crimsoned with slaughter, and the King came near,
Standing with clasped palms reverencing Buddha;
While still our Lord went on, teaching how fair
This earth were if all living things be linked
In friendliness of common use of foods,
Bloodless and pure; the golden grain, bright fruits,
Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan,
Sufficient drinks and meats. Which, when these heard,
The might of gentleness so conquered them,
The priests themselves scattered their altar-flames
## p. 830 (#248) ############################################
830
EDWIN ARNOLD
And flung away the steel of sacrifice;
And through the land next day passed a decree
Proclaimed by criers, and in this wise graved
On rock and column:-" Thus the King's will is:
There hath been slaughter for the sacrifice
And slaying for the meat, but henceforth none
Shall spill the blood of life nor taste of flesh,
Seeing that knowledge grows, and life is one,
And mercy cometh to the merciful. "
So ran the edict, and from those days forth
Sweet peace hath spread between all living kind,
Man and the beasts which serve him, and the birds,
Of all those banks of Gunga where our Lord
Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech.
THE FAITHFULNESS OF YUDHISTHIRA
From The Great Journey,' in the Mahâbhârata
THE
HENCEFORTH alone the long-armed monarch strode,
Not looking back, - nay, not for Bhima's sake,-
But walking with his face set for the mount;
And the hound followed him, only the hound.
-
After the deathly sands, the Mount; and lo!
Sâkra shone forth, the God, filling the earth
And heavens with thunder of his chariot-wheels.
"Ascend," he said, "with me, Pritha's great son! "
But Yudhisthira answered, sore at heart
For those his kinsfolk, fallen on the way:-
"O Thousand-eyed, O Lord of all the gods,
Give that my brothers come with me, who fell!
Not without them is Swarga sweet to me.
She, too, the dear and kind and queenly, — she
Whose perfect virtue Paradise must crown,
Grant her to come with us! Dost thou grant this? "
-
—
-
The God replied: "In heaven thou shalt see
Thy kinsman and the Queen - these will attain
And Krishna. Grieve no longer for thy dead,
Thou chief of men! their mortal covering stripped,
These have their places: but to thee the gods
Allot an unknown grace; Thou shalt go up,
Living and in thy form, to the immortal homes. "
## p. 831 (#249) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
831
But the King answered:-"O thou Wisest One,
Who know'st what was, and is, and is to be,
Still one more grace! This hound hath ate with me,
Followed me, loved me: must I leave him now? »
"Monarch. " spake Indra. "thou art now as we,
Deathless, divine; thou art become a god;
Glory and power and gifts celestial,
And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye:
What hath a beast with these? Leave here thy hound. "
Yet Yudhisthira answered:-"O Most High,
O, Thousand-eyed and wisest! can it be
That one exalted should seem pitiless?
Nay, let me lose such glory: for its sake
I cannot leave one living thing I loved. "
Then sternly Indra spake:-"He is unclean,
And into Swarga such shall enter not.
The Krodhavasha's wrath destroys the fruits
Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire.
Bethink thee, Dharmaraj; quit now this beast!
That which is seemly is not hard of heart. "
Still he replied: "'Tis written that to spurn
A suppliant equals in offense to slay
A twice-born; wherefore, not for Swarga's bliss
Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog,-
So without any hope or friend save me,
So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness;
So agonized to die, unless I help
Who among men was called steadfast and just. "
-
Quoth Indra:-"Nay, the altar-flame is foul
Where a dog passeth; angry angels sweep
The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits
Of offering, and the merit of the prayer
Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here!
He that will enter heaven must enter pure.
laden with money, to his own home in the south. The next
summer, and more than one summer following, he spent in her
employ, always being paid as his heart could desire, at the end.
of the season.
## p. 809 (#227) ############################################
JON ARNASON
809
After some years he took a farm of his own in the south
country, and was always looked upon by all his neighbors as an
honest man, a good fisherman, and an able workman in whatever
he might put his hand to. He always cut his own hay, never
using any scythe but that which the elf-woman had given him
upon the mountains; nor did any of his neighbors ever finish
their mowing before him.
One summer it chanced that while he was fishing, one of his
neighbors came to his house and asked his wife to lend him her
husband's scythe, as he had lost his own. The farmer's wife
looked for one, but could only find the one upon which her hus-
band set such store. This, however, a little loth, she lent to the
man, begging him at the same time never to temper it in the
fire; for that, she said, her good man never did. So the neigh-
bor promised, and taking it with him, bound it to a handle and
began to work with it. But, sweep as he would, and strain as
he would (and sweep and strain he did right lustily), not a single
blade of grass fell. Wroth at this, the man tried to sharpen it,
but with no avail. Then he took it into his forge, intending to
temper it, for, thought he, what harm could that possibly do?
but as soon as the flames touched it, the steel melted like wax,
and nothing was left but a little heap of ashes. Seeing this, he
went in haste to the farmer's house, where he had borrowed it,
and told the woman what had happened; she was at her wits'
end with fright and shame when she heard it, for she knew well
enough how her husband set store by this scythe, and how angry
he would be at its loss.
And angry indeed he was, when he came home, and he beat
his wife well for her folly in lending what was not hers to lend.
But his wrath was soon over, and he never again, as he never
had before, laid the stick about his wife's shoulders.
THE MAN-SERVANT AND THE WATER-ELVES
I
NA large house, where all the chief rooms were paneled, there
lived once upon a time a farmer, whose ill-fate it was that
every servant of his that was left alone to guard the house
on Christmas Eve, while the rest of the family went to church,
was found dead when the family returned home.
As soon as
the report of this was spread abroad, the farmer had the greatest
## p. 810 (#228) ############################################
810
JÓN ARNASON
difficulty in procuring servants who would consent to watch alone
in the house on that night; until at last one day a man, a strong
fellow, offered him his services, to sit up alone and guard the
house. The farmer told him what fate awaited him for his rash-
ness; but the man despised such a fear, and persisted in his
determination.
On Christmas Eve, when the farmer and all his family, except
the new man-servant, were preparing for church, the farmer said
to him, "Come with us to church; I cannot leave you here to
die. "
But the other replied, "I intend to stay here, for it would be
unwise in you to leave your house unprotected; and besides, the
cattle and sheep must have their food at the proper time. "
"Never mind the beasts," answered the farmer. "Do not be
so rash as to remain in the house this night; for whenever we
have returned from church on this night, we have always found
every living thing in the house dead, with all its bones broken. "
But the man was not to be persuaded, as he considered all
these fears beneath his notice; so the farmer and the rest of the
servants went away and left him behind, alone in the house.
As soon as he was by himself he began to consider how to
guard against anything that might occur; for a dread had stolen
over him, in spite of his courage, that something strange was
about to take place. At last he thought that the best thing to do
was, first of all to light up the family room; and then to find
some place in which to hide himself. As soon as he had lighted
all the candles, he moved two planks out of the wainscot at the
end of the room, and creeping into the space between it and the
wall, restored the planks to their places, so that he could see
plainly into the room and yet avoid being himself discovered.
He had scarcely finished concealing himself, when two fierce
and strange-looking men entered the room and began looking
about.
One of them said, "I smell a human being. "
"No," replied the other, "there is no human being here. "
Then they took a candle and continued their search, until they
found the man's dog asleep under one of the beds. They took it
up, and having dashed it on the ground till every bone in its
body was broken, hurled it from them. When the man-servant
saw this, he congratulated himself on not having fallen into their
hands.
## p. 811 (#229) ############################################
JÓN ARNASON
811
Suddenly the room was filled with people, who were laden
with tables and all kinds of table furniture, silver, cloths, and all,
which they spread out, and having done so, sat down to a rich
supper, which they had also brought with them. They feasted
noisily, and spent the remainder of the night in drinking and
dancing. Two of them were appointed to keep guard, in order
to give the company due warning of the approach either of any-
body or of the day. Three times they went out, always returning
with the news that they saw neither the approach of any human
being, nor yet of the break of day.
But when the man-servant suspected the night to be pretty
far spent, he jumped from his place of concealment into the
room, and clashing the two planks together with as much noise
as he could make, shouted like a madman, "The day! the day!
the day! "
On these words the whole company rose scared from their
seats, and rushed headlong out, leaving behind them not only
their tables, and all the silver dishes, but even the very clothes
they had taken off for ease in dancing. In the hurry of flight
many were wounded and trodden under foot, while the rest ran
into the darkness, the man-servant after them, clapping the
planks together and shrieking, "The day! the day! the day! "
until they came to a large lake, into which the whole party
plunged headlong and disappeared.
From this the man knew them to be water-elves.
Then he returned home, gathered the corpses of the elves
who had been killed in the flight, killed the wounded ones, and,
making a great heap of them all, burned them. When he had
finished this task, he cleaned up the house and took possession
of all the treasures the elves had left behind them.
On the farmer's return, his servant told him all that had
occurred, and showed him the spoils. The farmer praised him
for a brave fellow, and congratulated him on having escaped
with his life. The man gave him half the treasures of the elves,
and ever afterward prospered exceedingly.
This was the last visit the water-elves ever paid to that house.
## p. 812 (#230) ############################################
812
JÓN ARNASON
THE CROSSWAYS
IT
T IS supposed that among the hills there are certain cross-roads,
from the centre of which you can see four churches, one at
the end of each road.
If you sit at the crossing of these roads on Christmas Eve
(or as others say, on New Year's Eve), elves come from every
direction and cluster round you, and ask you, with all sorts of
blandishments and fair promises, to go with them; but you must
continue silent. Then they bring to you rarities and delicacies
of every description, gold, silver, and precious stones, meats and
wines, of which they beg you to accept; but you must neither
move a limb nor accept a single thing they offer you. If you
get so far as this without speaking, elf-women come to you in the
likeness of your mother, your sister, or any other relation, and
beg you to come with them, using every art and entreaty; but
beware you neither move nor speak. And if you can continue
to keep silent and motionless all the night, until you see the first
streak of dawn, then start up and cry aloud, "Praise be to God!
His daylight filleth the heavens! "
As soon as you have said this, the elves will leave you, and
with you all the wealth they have used to entice you, which will
now be yours.
But should you either answer, or accept of their offers, you
will from that moment become mad.
On the night of one Christmas Eve, a man named Fusi was
out on the cross-roads, and managed to resist all the entreaties.
and proffers of the elves, until one of them offered him a large
lump of mutton-suet, and begged him to take a bite of it. Fusi,
who had up to this time gallantly resisted all such offers as gold
and silver and diamonds and such filthy lucre, could hold out no
longer, and crying, "Seldom have I refused a bite of mutton-
suet," he went mad.
## p. 813 (#231) ############################################
813
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
(1769-1860)
PRUNG from the sturdy peasant stock of the north, to which
patriotism is a chief virtue, Ernst Moritz Arndt first saw the
light at Schoritz, Island of Rügen (then a dependency of
Sweden), December 29th, 1769. His father, once a serf, had achieved
a humble independence, and he destined his clever son for the min-
istry, the one vocation open to him which meant honor and advance-
ment. The young man studied theology at Greifswald and Jena, but
later turned his attention exclusively to history and literature. His
early life is delightfully described in his
'Stories and Recollections of Childhood. '
His youth was molded by the influence of
Goethe, Klopstock, Bürger, and Voss. After
completing his university studies he trav-
eled extensively in Austria, Hungary, and
Northern Italy. His account of these jour-
neys, published in 1802, shows his keen
observation of men and affairs.
<
ERNST ARNDT
(
He began his long service to his coun-
try by his History of Serfdom in Pomera-
nia and Sweden,' which contributed largely
to the general abolition of the ancient
abuse. He became professor of history in
the University of Greifswald in 1806, and about that time began to
publish the first series of the Spirit of the Times. ' These were
stirring appeals to rouse the Germans against the oppressions of
Napoleon. In consequence he was obliged to flee to Sweden. After
three years he returned under an assumed name, and again took up
his work at Greifswald. In 1812, after the occupation of Pomerania
by the French, his fierce denunciations again forced him to flee, this
time to Russia, the only refuge open to him. There he joined Baron
von Stein, who eagerly made use of him in his schemes for the
liberation of Germany. At this time his finest poems were written:
those kindling war songs that appealed so strongly to German
patriotism, when "songs were sermons and sermons were songs. "
The most famous of these, 'What is the German's Fatherland ? >
"The Song of the Field-marshal,' and 'The God Who Made Earth's
Iron Hoard,' still live as national lyrics.
Arndt was also constantly occupied in writing pamphlets of the
most stirring nature, as their titles show:-'The Rhine, Germany's
## p. 814 (#232) ############################################
814
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
River, but Never Germany's Boundary'; 'The Soldier's Catechism';
and The Militia and the General Levy. ' After the disasters of the
French in Russia, he returned to Germany, unceasingly devoted to
his task of rousing the people. Though by birth a Swede, he had
become at heart a Prussian, seeing in Prussia alone the possibility of
German unity.
In 1817 he married Schleiermacher's sister, and the following year
was appointed professor of history in the newly established University
of Bonn. Shortly afterward suspended, on account of his liberal
views, he was forced to spend twenty years in retirement. His
leisure gave opportunity for literary work, however, and he availed
himself of it by producing several historical treatises and his inter-
esting Reminiscences of My Public Life. ' One of the first acts of
Frederick William IV. , after his accession, was to restore Arndt to
his professorship at Bonn. He took a lively interest in the events of
1848, and belonged to the deputation that offered the imperial crown
to the King of Prussia. He continued in the hope and the advocacy
of German unity, though he did not live to see it realized. The
ninetieth birthday of "Father Arndt," as he was fondly called by
his countrymen, was celebrated with general rejoicing throughout
Germany. He died shortly afterward, on January 29th, 1860.
Arndt's importance as a poet is due to the stirring scenes of his
earlier life and the political needs of Germany. He was no genius.
He was not even a deep scholar. His only great work is his war-
songs and patriotic ballads. Germany honors his manly character
and patriotic zeal in that stormy period of Liberation which led
through many apparent defeats to the united Empire of to-day.
The best German biographies are that of Schenkel (1869), W.
Baur (1882), and Langenberg (1869); the latter in 1878 edited 'Arndt's
Letters to a Friend. ' J. R. Seeley's 'Life and Adventures of E. M.
Arndt (1879) is founded on the latter's 'Reminiscences of My Public
Life. '
WHAT IS THE GERMAN'S FATHERLAND?
WHAT is the German's fatherland?
WHA
Is it Prussia, or the Swabian's land?
Is it where the grape glows on the Rhine?
Where sea-gulls skim the Baltic's brine ?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Bavaria, or the Styrian's land?
## p. 815 (#233) ############################################
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
815
Is it where the Master's cattle graze ?
Is it the Mark where forges blaze?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Westphalia? Pomerania's strand?
Where the sand drifts along the shore?
Or where the Danube's surges roar?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Now name for me that mighty land!
Is it Switzerland? or Tyrols, tell;
The land and people pleased me well!
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Now name for me that mighty land!
Ah! Austria surely it must be,
So rich in fame and victory.
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Tell me the name of that great land!
Is it the land which princely hate
Tore from the Emperor and the State?
Oh no! more grand
Must be the German's fatherland!
What is the German's fatherland?
Now name at last that mighty land!
"Where'er resounds the German tongue,
Where'er its hymns to God are sung! "
That is the land,
Brave German, that thy fatherland!
That is the German's fatherland!
Where binds like oak the claspèd hand,
Where truth shines clearly from the eyes,
And in the heart affection lies.
Be this the land,
Brave German, this thy fatherland!
## p. 816 (#234) ############################################
816
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
That is the German's fatherland!
Where scorn shall foreign triflers brand,
Where all are foes whose deeds offend,
Where every noble soul's a friend:
Be this the land,
All Germany shall be the land!
All Germany that land shall be:
Watch o'er it, God, and grant that we,
With German hearts, in deed and thought,
May love it truly as we ought.
Be this the land,
All Germany shall be the land!
THE SONG OF THE FIELD-MARSHAL
HAT'S the blast from the trumpets? Hussars, to the
fray!
WHAT'S
The field-marshal* rides in the rolling mellay;
So gay on his mettlesome war-horse he goes,
So fierce waves his glittering sword at his foes.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
Oh, see as he comes how his piercing eyes gleam!
Oh, see how behind him his snowy locks stream!
So fresh blooms his age, like a well-ripened wine,
He may well as the battle-field's autocrat shine.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
It was he, when his country in ruin was laid,
Who sternly to heaven uplifted his blade,
And swore on the brand, with a heart burning high,
To show Frenchmen the trade that the Prussians could ply.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
That oath he has kept. When the battle-cry rang,
Hey! how the gray youth to the saddle upsprang!
He made a sweep-dance for the French in the room,
And swept the land clean with a steel-ended broom.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
* Blücher.
## p. 817 (#235) ############################################
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
817
At Lützen, in the meadow, he kept up such a strife,
That many thousand Frenchmen there yielded up their life;
That thousands ran headlong for very life's sake,
And thousands are sleeping who never will wake.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
On the water, at Katzbach, his oath was in trim:
He taught in a moment the Frenchmen to swim.
Farewell, Frenchmen; fly to the Baltic to save!
You mob without breeches, catch whales for your grave.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
At Wartburg, on the Elbe, how he cleared him a path!
Neither fortress nor town barred the French from his wrath;
Like hares o'er the field they all scuttled away,
While behind them the hero rang out his Huzza!
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
At Leipzig-O glorious fight on the plain! -
French luck and French might strove against him in vain;
There beaten and stiff lay the foe in their blood,
And there dear old Blücher a field-marshal stood.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!
Then sound, blaring trumpets! Hussars, charge once more!
Ride, field-marshal, ride like the wind in the roar!
To the Rhine, over Rhine, in your triumph advance!
Brave sword of our country, right on into France!
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful; they're shouting hurrah!
PATRIOTIC SONG
G
OD, who gave iron, purposed ne'er
That man should be a slave:
Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear
In his right hand He gave.
Therefore He gave him fiery mood,
Fierce speech, and free-born breath,
That he might fearlessly the feud
Maintain through life and death.
11-52
## p. 818 (#236) ############################################
818
ERNST MORITZ ARNDT
Therefore will we what God did say,
With honest truth, maintain,
And ne'er a fellow-creature slay,
A tyrant's pay to gain!
But he shall fall by stroke of brand
Who fights for sin and shame,
And not inherit German land
With men of German name.
O Germany, bright fatherland!
O German love, so true!
Thou sacred land, thou beauteous land,
We swear to thee anew!
Outlawed, each knave and coward shall
The crow and raven feed;
But we will to the battle all-
Revenge shall be our meed.
Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can,
To bright and flaming life!
Now all ye Germans, man for man,
Forth to the holy strife!
Your hands lift upward to the sky-
Your heart shall upward soar—
And man for man, let each one cry,
Our slavery is o'er!
Let sound, let sound, whatever can,
Trumpet and fife and drum.
This day our sabres, man for man,
To stain with blood we come:
With hangman's and with Frenchmen's blood,
O glorious day of ire,
That to all Germans soundeth good-
Day of our great desire!
Let wave, let wave, whatever can,
Standard and banner wave!
Here will we purpose, man for man,
To grace a hero's grave.
Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-
Your banners wave on high;
We'll gain us freedom's victory,
Or freedom's death we'll die!
-
## p. 819 (#237) ############################################
819
•
EDWIN ARNOLD
(1832-)
HE favorite and now venerable English poet, Edwin Arnold,
showed his skill in smooth and lucid verse early in life. In
1852, when twenty years of age, he won the Newdigate
Prize at Oxford for a poem, 'The Feast of Belshazzar. ' Two years
later, after graduation with honors, he was named second master of
Edward the Sixth's School at Birmingham; and, a few years subse-
quent, principal of the Government Sanskrit College at Poona, in
India. In 1856 he published Griselda, a Tragedy'; and after his
return to London in 1861, translations from the Greek of Herodotus
and the Sanskrit of the Indian classic 'Hitopadeça,' the latter under
the name of 'The Book of Good Counsels. ' There followed from his
pen Education in India'; 'A History of the Administration in India
under the Late Marquis of Dalhousie (1862-64); and 'The Poets of
Greece,' a collection of fine passages (1869). In addition to his other
labors he has been one of the editors-in-chief of the London Daily
Telegraph.
Saturated with the Orient, familiar with every aspect of its civ-
ilization, moral and religious life, history and feeling, Sir Edwin's
literary work has attested his knowledge in a large number of
smaller poetical productions, and a group of religious epics of long
and impressive extent. Chiefest among them ranks that on the life
and teachings of Buddha, 'The Light of Asia; or, The Great Renun-
ciation' (1879). It has passed through more than eighty editions in
this country, and almost as many in England. In recognition of this
work Mr. Arnold was decorated by the King of Siam with the Order
of the White Elephant. Two years after its appearance he published
'Mahabharata,' 'Indian Idylls,' and in 1883, 'Pearls of the Faith; or,
Islam's Rosary Being the Ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah,
with Comments in Verse from Various Oriental Sources. ' In 1886
the Sultan conferred on him the Imperial Order of Osmanli, and in
1888 he was created Knight Commander of the Indian Empire by
Queen Victoria. 'Sa'di in the Garden; or, The Book of Love'
(1888), a poem turning on a part of the 'Bôstâni' of the Persian
poet Sa'di, brought Sir Edwin the Order of the Lion and Sun from
the Shah of Persia. In 1888 he published also 'Poems National and
Non-Oriental. ' Since then he has written 'The Light of the World';
'Potiphar's Wife, and Other Poems' (1892); 'The Iliad and Odyssey
of Asia,' and in prose, 'India Revisited' (1891); 'Seas and Lands';
## p. 820 (#238) ############################################
820
EDWIN ARNOLD
'Japonica,' which treats of life and things Japanese; and 'Adzuma,
the Japanese Wife: a Play in Four Acts' (1893). During his travels
in Japan the Emperor decorated him with the Order of the Rising
Sun. In 1893 Sir Edwin was chosen President of the Birmingham
and Midland Institute. His latest volume, The Tenth Muse and
Other Poems,' appeared in 1895.
'The Light of Asia,' the most successful of his works, attracted
instant attention on its appearance, as a novelty of rich Indian local
color. In substance it is a graceful and dramatic paraphrase of the
mass of more or less legendary tales of the life and spiritual career of
the Buddha, Prince Gautama, and a summary of the principles of the
great religious system originating with him. It is lavishly embel-
lished with Indian allusions, and expresses incidentally the very
spirit of the East. In numerous cantos, proceeding from episode to
episode of its mystical hero's career, its effect is that of a loftily
ethical, picturesque, and fascinating biography, in highly polished
verse. The metre selected is a graceful and dignified one, especially
associated with 'Paradise Lost' and other of the foremost classics of
English verse. Sir Edwin says of the poem in his preface, "I have
sought, by the medium of an imaginary Buddhist votary, to depict
the life and character and indicate the philosophy of that noble hero
and reformer, Prince Gautama of India, the founder of Buddhism;"
and the poet has admirably, if most flatteringly, succeeded. The
poem has been printed in innumerable cheap editions as well as
those de luxe; and while it has been criticized as too complaisant
a study of even primitive Buddhism, it is beyond doubt a lyrical
tract of eminent utility as well as seductive charm.
THIS
THE YOUTH OF BUDDHA
From The Light of Asia'
HIS reverence
Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters,
Albeit beyond their learning taught; in speech
Right gentle, yet so wise; princely of mien,
Yet softly mannered; modest, deferent,
And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood:
No bolder horseman in the youthful band
E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles;
No keener driver of the chariot
In mimic contest scoured the palace courts:
Yet in mid-play the boy would oft-times pause,
Letting the deer pass free; would oft-times yield
## p. 821 (#239) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
821
His half-won race because the laboring steeds
Fetched painful breath; or if his princely mates
Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream
Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the years
Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord,
Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves
To spread its shade afar; but hardly yet
Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears,
Save as strange names for things not felt by kings,
Nor ever to be felt. But it befell
In the royal garden on a day of spring,
A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north
To their nest-places on Himâla's breast.
Calling in love-notes down their snowy line
The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted;
And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince,
Pointed his bow, and loosed a willful shaft
Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan
Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road,
So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed,
Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes.
Which seeing, Prince Siddârtha took the bird
Tenderly up, rested it in his lap,-
Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha sits,-
And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's fright,
Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick heart,
Caressed it into peace with light kind palms
As soft as plantain leaves an hour unrolled;
And while the left hand held, the right hand drew
The cruel steel forth from the wound, and laid
Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart.
Yet all so little knew the boy of pain,
That curiously into his wrist he pressed
The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting,
And turned with tears to soothe his bird again.
Then some one came who said, "My Prince hath shot
A swan, which fell among the roses here;
He bids me pray you send it. Will you send? "
"Nay," quoth Siddartha: "If the bird were dead,
To send it to the slayer might be well,
But the swan lives; my cousin hath but killed
The godlike speed which throbbed in this white wing. "
And Devadatta answered, "The wild thing,
Living or dead, is his who fetched it down;
## p. 822 (#240) ############################################
822
EDWIN ARNOLD
'Twas no man's in the clouds, but fallen 'tis mine.
Give me my prize, fair cousin. " Then our Lord
Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth cheek
And gravely spake: "Say no! the bird is mine,
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 savior of a life
Owns more the living thing than he 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 honor, he was gone;
And some one saw a hooded snake glide forth.
The gods come oft-times thus! So our Lord Buddha
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 plow-time. " So they rode
Into a land 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 plows; the fat soil rose and rolled
In smooth dark waves back from the plow; who drove
Planted both feet upon the leaping share
To make the furrow deep; among the palms
## p. 823 (#241) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
823
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 springtime. In the mango-sprays
The sunbirds 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 swart 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 jeweled 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 plowman and his laboring kine,
Their dewlaps blistered with the bitter yoke,
The rage to live which makes all living strife—
The Prince Siddartha sighed. "Is 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!
## p. 824 (#242) ############################################
824
EDWIN ARNOLD
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
Dhyâna, first step of "the Path. "
THE PURE SACRIFICE OF BUDDHA
From The Light of Asia'
NWARD he passed,
Ο
Exceeding sorrowful, seeing how men
Fear so to die they are afraid to fear,
Lust so to live they dare not love their life,
But plague it with fierce penances, belike
To please the gods who grudge pleasure to man;
Belike to balk hell by self-kindled hells;
Belike in holy madness, hoping soul
May break the better through their wasted flesh.
"O flowerets of the field! " Siddârtha said,
་་
"Who turn your tender faces to the sun,
Glad of the light, and grateful with sweet breath
Of fragrance and these robes of reverence donned,
Silver and gold and purple, · - none of ye
Miss perfect living, none of ye despoil
-
Your happy beauty. O ye palms! which rise
Eager to pierce the sky and drink the wind
Blown from Malaya and the cool blue seas;
What secret know ye that ye grow content,
From time of tender shoot to time of fruit,
Murmuring such sun-songs from your feathered crowns?
Ye too, who dwell so merry in the trees,
Quick-darting parrots, bee-birds, bulbuls, doves, -
None of ye hate your life, none of ye deem
To strain to better by foregoing needs!
But man, who slays ye-being lord-is wise,
## p. 825 (#243) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
825
And wisdom, nursed on blood, cometh thus forth
In self-tormentings! "
While the Master spake
Blew down the mount the dust of pattering feet,
White goats and black sheep winding slow their way
With many a lingering nibble at the tufts,
And wanderings from the path, where water gleamed
Or wild figs hung. But always as they strayed
The herdsman cried, or slung his sling, and kept
The silly crowd still moving to the plain.
A ewe with couplets in the flock there was:
Some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled behind
Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped,
And the vexed dam hither and thither ran,
Fearful to lose this little one or that;
Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly
He took the limping lamb upon his neck,
Saying, "Poor wooly mother, be at peace!
Whither thou goest I will bear thy care;
'Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief
As sit and watch the sorrows of the world
In yonder caverns with the priests who pray. ”
"But," spake he of the herdsmen, "wherefore, friends!
Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon,
Since 'tis at evening that men fold their sheep? "
And answer gave the peasants:- "We are sent
To fetch a sacrifice of goats fivescore,
And fivescore sheep, the which our Lord the King
Slayeth this night in worship of his gods. "
Then said the Master, "I will also go! "
So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb.
Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun,
The wistful ewe low bleating at his feet.
Whom, when they came unto the river-side,
A woman-dove-eyed, young, with tearful face
And lifted hands-saluted, bending low:-
"Lord! thou art he," she said, "who yesterday
Had pity on me in the fig grove here,
Where I live lone and reared my child; but he,
Straying amid the blossoms, found a snake,
Which twined about his wrist, while he did laugh
And teased the quick forked tongue and opened mouth
## p. 826 (#244) ############################################
826
EDWIN ARNOLD
Of that cold playmate. But alas! ere long
He turned so pale and still, I could not think
Why he should cease to play, and let my breast
Fall from his lips. And one said, 'He is sick
Of poison; and another, 'He will die. '
But I, who could not lose my precious boy,
Prayed of them physic, which might bring the light
Back to his eyes; it was so very small,
That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think
It could not hate him, gracious as he was,
Nor hurt him in his sport. And some one said,
'There is a holy man upon the hill-
Lo! now he passeth in the yellow robe;
Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure
For that which ails thy son. ' Whereon I came
Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god's,
And wept and drew the face-cloth from my babe,
Praying thee tell what simples might be good.
And thou, great sir! didst spurn me not, but gaze
With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand;
Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me,
'Yea! little sister, there is that might heal
Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the thing:
For they who seek physicians bring to them
What is ordained. Therefore, I pray thee, find
Black mustard-seed, a tola; only mark
Thou take it not from any hand or house
Where father, mother, child, or slave hath died;
It shall be well if thou canst find such seed. '
Thus didst thou speak, my lord! "
The Master smiled
Exceeding tenderly. "Yea! I spake thus,
Dear Kisagôtami! But didst thou find
The seed? "
"I went, Lord, clasping to my breast
The babe, grown colder, asking at each hut,-
Here in the jungle and toward the town,—
'I pray you, give me mustard, of your grace,
A tola-black;' and each who had it gave,
For all the poor are piteous to the poor:
But when I asked, 'In my friend's household here
Hath any peradventure ever died—
Husband or wife, or child, or slave? ' they said:-
—
## p. 827 (#245) ############################################
EDWIN ARNOLD
827
'O sister! what is this you ask? the dead
Are very many and the living few! '
So, with sad thanks, I gave the mustard back,
And prayed of others, but the others said,
'Here is the seed, but we have lost our slave! '
'Here is the seed, but our good man is dead! '
'Here is some seed, but he that sowed it died
Between the rain-time and the harvesting! '
Ah, sir! I could not find a single house
Where there was mustard-seed and none had died!
Therefore I left my child-who would not suck
Nor smile-beneath the wild vines by the stream,
To seek thy face and kiss thy feet, and pray
Where I might find this seed and find no death,
If now, indeed, my baby be not dead,
As I do fear, and as they said to me. "
"My sister! thou hast found," the Master said,
"Searching for what none finds, that bitter balm
I had to give thee. He thou lovedst slept
Dead on thy bosom yesterday; to-day
Thou know'st the whole wide world weeps with thy woe;
The grief which all hearts share grows less for one.
Lo! I would pour my blood if it could stay
Thy tears, and win the secret of that curse
Which makes sweet love our anguish, and which drives
O'er flowers and pastures to the sacrifice —
As these dumb beasts are driven-men their lords.
I seek that secret: bury thou thy child! "
So entered they the city side by side,
The herdsmen and the Prince, what time the sun
Gilded slow Sona's distant stream, and threw
Long shadows down the street and through the gate
Where the King's men kept watch. But when these saw
Our Lord bearing the lamb, the guards stood back,
The market-people drew their wains aside,
In the bazaar buyers and sellers stayed
The war of tongues to gaze on that mild face;
The smith, with lifted hammer in his hand,
Forgot to strike; the weaver left his web,
The scribe his scroll, the money-changer lost
His count of cowries; from the unwatched rice
Shiva's white bull fed free; the wasted milk
Ran o'er the lota while the milkers watched
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EDWIN ARNOLD
The passage of our Lord moving so meek,
With yet so beautiful a majesty.
But most the women gathering in the doors
Asked, "Who is this that brings the sacrifice
So graceful and peace-giving as he goes?
What is his caste? whence hath he eyes so sweet?
Can he be Sâkra or the Devaraj ? »
And others said, "It is the holy man
Who dwelleth with the Rishis on the hill. "
But the Lord paced, in meditation lost,
Thinking, "Alas! for all my sheep which have
No shepherd; wandering in the night with none
To guide them; bleating blindly toward the knife.
Of Death, as these dumb beasts which are their kin. "
Then some one told the King, "There cometh here
A holy hermit, bringing down the flock
Which thou didst bid to crown the sacrifice. "
The King stood in his hall of offering;
On either hand the white-robed Brahmans ranged
Muttered their mantras, feeding still the fire
Which roared upon the midmost altar. There
From scented woods flickered bright tongues of flame,
Hissing and curling as they licked the gifts
Of ghee and spices and the Soma juice,
The joy of Indra. Round about the pile
A slow, thick, scarlet streamlet smoked and ran,
Sucked by the sand, but ever rolling down,
The blood of bleating victims. One such lay,
A spotted goat, long-horned, its head bound back.
With munja grass; at its stretched throat the knife
Pressed by a priest, who murmured, "This, dread gods,
Of many yajnas cometh as the crown
From Bimbasâra: take ye joy to see
The spirted blood, and pleasure in the scent
Of rich flesh roasting 'mid the fragrant flames;
Let the King's sins be laid upon this goat,
And let the fire consume them burning it,
For now I strike. "
But Buddha softly said,
"Let him not strike, great King! " and therewith loosed
The victim's bonds, none staying him, so great
His presence was. Then, craving leave, he spake
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Of life, which all can take, but none can give,
Life, which all creatures love and strive to keep,
Wonderful, dear and pleasant unto each,
Even to the meanest; yea, a boon to all
Where pity is, for pity makes the world
Soft to the weak and noble for the strong.
Unto the dumb lips of his flock he lent
Sad, pleading words, showing how man, who prays
For mercy to the 'gods, is merciless,
Being as god to those; albeit all life
Is linked and kin, and what we slay have given
Meek tribute of the milk and wool, and set
Fast trust upon the hands which murder them.
Also he spake of what the holy books
Do surely teach, how that at death some sink
To bird and beast, and these rise up to man
In wanderings of the spark which grows purged flame.
So were the sacrifice new sin, if so
The fated passage of a soul be stayed.
Nor, spake he, shall one wash his spirit clean
By blood; nor gladden gods, being good, with blood;
Nor bribe them, being evil; nay, nor lay
Upon the brow of innocent bound beasts
One hair's weight of that answer all must give
For all things done amiss or wrongfully,
Alone, each for himself, reckoning with that
The fixed arithmetic of the universe,
Which meteth good for good and ill or ill,
Measure for measure, unto deeds, words, thoughts;
Watchful, aware, implacable, unmoved;
Making all futures fruits of all the pasts.
Thus spake he, breathing words so piteous
With such high lordliness of ruth and right,
The priests drew back their garments o'er the hands
Crimsoned with slaughter, and the King came near,
Standing with clasped palms reverencing Buddha;
While still our Lord went on, teaching how fair
This earth were if all living things be linked
In friendliness of common use of foods,
Bloodless and pure; the golden grain, bright fruits,
Sweet herbs which grow for all, the waters wan,
Sufficient drinks and meats. Which, when these heard,
The might of gentleness so conquered them,
The priests themselves scattered their altar-flames
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EDWIN ARNOLD
And flung away the steel of sacrifice;
And through the land next day passed a decree
Proclaimed by criers, and in this wise graved
On rock and column:-" Thus the King's will is:
There hath been slaughter for the sacrifice
And slaying for the meat, but henceforth none
Shall spill the blood of life nor taste of flesh,
Seeing that knowledge grows, and life is one,
And mercy cometh to the merciful. "
So ran the edict, and from those days forth
Sweet peace hath spread between all living kind,
Man and the beasts which serve him, and the birds,
Of all those banks of Gunga where our Lord
Taught with his saintly pity and soft speech.
THE FAITHFULNESS OF YUDHISTHIRA
From The Great Journey,' in the Mahâbhârata
THE
HENCEFORTH alone the long-armed monarch strode,
Not looking back, - nay, not for Bhima's sake,-
But walking with his face set for the mount;
And the hound followed him, only the hound.
-
After the deathly sands, the Mount; and lo!
Sâkra shone forth, the God, filling the earth
And heavens with thunder of his chariot-wheels.
"Ascend," he said, "with me, Pritha's great son! "
But Yudhisthira answered, sore at heart
For those his kinsfolk, fallen on the way:-
"O Thousand-eyed, O Lord of all the gods,
Give that my brothers come with me, who fell!
Not without them is Swarga sweet to me.
She, too, the dear and kind and queenly, — she
Whose perfect virtue Paradise must crown,
Grant her to come with us! Dost thou grant this? "
-
—
-
The God replied: "In heaven thou shalt see
Thy kinsman and the Queen - these will attain
And Krishna. Grieve no longer for thy dead,
Thou chief of men! their mortal covering stripped,
These have their places: but to thee the gods
Allot an unknown grace; Thou shalt go up,
Living and in thy form, to the immortal homes. "
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But the King answered:-"O thou Wisest One,
Who know'st what was, and is, and is to be,
Still one more grace! This hound hath ate with me,
Followed me, loved me: must I leave him now? »
"Monarch. " spake Indra. "thou art now as we,
Deathless, divine; thou art become a god;
Glory and power and gifts celestial,
And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye:
What hath a beast with these? Leave here thy hound. "
Yet Yudhisthira answered:-"O Most High,
O, Thousand-eyed and wisest! can it be
That one exalted should seem pitiless?
Nay, let me lose such glory: for its sake
I cannot leave one living thing I loved. "
Then sternly Indra spake:-"He is unclean,
And into Swarga such shall enter not.
The Krodhavasha's wrath destroys the fruits
Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire.
Bethink thee, Dharmaraj; quit now this beast!
That which is seemly is not hard of heart. "
Still he replied: "'Tis written that to spurn
A suppliant equals in offense to slay
A twice-born; wherefore, not for Swarga's bliss
Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog,-
So without any hope or friend save me,
So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness;
So agonized to die, unless I help
Who among men was called steadfast and just. "
-
Quoth Indra:-"Nay, the altar-flame is foul
Where a dog passeth; angry angels sweep
The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits
Of offering, and the merit of the prayer
Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here!
He that will enter heaven must enter pure.
