peace, and learn to manage and brand cattle, hunt wild animals, and
tame horses. There is in the early portion a striking picture of an
Aryan tournament, wherein the young cousins display their skill,
"highly arrayed, amid vast crowds," and Arjuna especially
distinguishes himself. Clad in golden mail, he shows amazing feats
with sword and bow. He shoots twenty-one arrows into the hollow of a
buffalo-horn while his chariot whirls along; he throws the "chakra,"
or sharp quoit, without once missing his victim; and, after winning
the prizes, kneels respectfully at the feet of his instructor to
receive his crown. The cousins, after this, march out to fight with a
neighbouring king, and the Pandavas, who are always the favoured
family in the poem, win most of the credit, so that Yudhishthira is
elected from among them _Yuvaraj_, or heir apparent. This incenses
Duryodhana, who, by appealing to his father, Dhritarashtra, procures a
division of the kingdom, the Pandavas being sent to Vacanavat, now
Allahabad. All this part of the story refers obviously to the advances
gradually made by the Aryan conquerors of India into the jungles
peopled by aborigines. Forced to quit their new city, the Pandavas
hear of the marvellous beauty of Draupadí, whose _Swayamvara_, or
"choice of a suitor," is about to be celebrated at Kâmpilya. This
again furnishes a strange and glittering picture of the old times;
vast masses of holiday people, with rajahs, elephants, troops,
jugglers, dancing-women, and showmen, are gathered in a gay encampment
round the pavilion of the King Draupada, whose lovely daughter is to
take for her husband (on the well-understood condition that she
approves of him) the fortunate archer who can strike the eye of a
golden fish, whirling round upon the top of a tall pole, with an arrow
shot from an enormously strong bow. The princess, adorned with radiant
gems, holds a garland of flowers in her hand for the victorious
suitor; but none of the rajahs can bend the bow. Arjuna, disguised as
a Brahman, performs the feat with ease, and his youth and grace win
the heart of Draupadí more completely than his skill. The princess
henceforth follows the fortunes of the brothers, and, by a strange
ancient custom, lives with them in common. The Pandavas, now allied to
the King Draupada and become strong, are so much dreaded by the
Kauravas that they are invited back again, for safety's sake, to
Hastinapura, and settle near it in the city of Indraprastha, now
Delhi. The reign of Yudhishthira and his brothers is very prosperous
there; "every subject was pious; there were no liars, thieves, or
cheats; no droughts, floods, or locusts; no conflagrations nor
invaders, nor parrots to eat up the grain."

The Pandava king, having subdued all enemies, now performs the
_Rajasuya_, or ceremony of supremacy,--and here again occur
wonderfully interesting pictures. Duryodhana comes thither, and his
jealousy is inflamed by the magnificence of the rite. Among other
curious incidents is one which seems to show that glass was already
known. A pavilion is paved with "black crystal," which the Kaurava
prince mistakes for water, and "draws up his garments lest he should
be wetted." But now approaches a turning-point in the epic. Furious at
the wealth and fortune of his cousins, Duryodhana invites them to
Hastinapura to join in a great gambling festival. The passion for play
was as strong apparently with these antique Hindus as that for
fighting or for love: "No true Kshatriya must ever decline a challenge
to combat or to dice." The brothers go to the entertainment, which is
to ruin their prosperity; for Sakuni, the most skilful and lucky
gambler, has loaded the "coupun," so as to win every throw. Mr.
Wheeler's excellent summary again says:--

     "Then Yudhishthira and Sakuni sat down to play, and whatever
     Yudhishthira laid as stakes Duryodhana laid something of
     equal value; but Yudhishthira lost every game. He first lost
     a very beautiful pearl; next a thousand bags each containing
     a thousand pieces of gold; next a great piece of gold so
     pure that it was as soft as wax; next a chariot set with
     jewels and hung all round with golden bells; next a thousand
     war-elephants with golden howdahs set with diamonds; next a
     lakh of slaves all dressed in rich garments; next a lakh of
     beautiful slave-girls, adorned from head to foot with golden
     ornaments; next all the remainder of his goods; next all his
     cattle; and then the whole of his Râj, excepting only the
     lands which had been granted to the Brahmans."

After this tremendous run of ill-luck, he madly stakes Draupadí the
Beautiful, and loses her. The princess is dragged away by the hair,
and Duryodhana mockingly bids her come and sit upon his knee, for
which Bhíma the Pandava swears that he will some day break his
thigh-bone,--a vow which is duly kept. But the blind old king rebukes
this fierce elation of the winner, restores Draupadí, and declares
that they must throw another main to decide who shall leave
Hastinapura. The cheating Sakuni cogs the dice again, and the Pandavas
must now go away into the forest, and let no man know them by name for
thirteen years. They depart, Draupadí unbinding her long black hair,
and vowing never to fasten it back again till the hands of Bhíma, the
strong man among the Pandavas, are red with the punishment of the
Kauravas. "Then he shall tie my tresses up again, when his fingers are
dripping with Duhsasana's blood."

There follow long episodes of their adventures in the jungle till the
time when the Pandavas emerge, and, still disguised, take up their
residence in King Viráta's city. Here the vicissitudes of Draupadí as
a handmaid of the queen, of Bhíma as the palace wrestler, of Arjuna
disguised as a eunuch, and of Nakula, Sahadeva, and Yudhishthira,
acting as herdsmen and attendants, are most absorbing and dramatic.
The virtue of Draupadí, assailed by a prince of the State, is terribly
defended by the giant Bhíma; and when the Kauravas, suspecting the
presence in the place of their cousins, attack Viráta, Arjuna drives
the chariot of the heir apparent, and victoriously repulses them with
his awful bow Gandiva.

After all these evidences of prowess and the help afforded in the
battle, the King of Viráta discovers the princely rank of the
Pandavas, and gives his daughter in marriage to the son of Arjuna. A
great council is then held to consider the question of declaring war
on the Kauravas, at which the speeches are quite Homeric, the god
Krishna taking part. The decision is to prepare for war, but to send
an embassy first. Meantime Duryodhana and Arjuna engage in a singular
contest to obtain the aid of Krishna, whom both of them seek out. This
celestial hero is asleep when they arrive, and the proud Kaurava, as
Lord of Indraprastha, sits down at his head; Arjuna, more reverently,
takes a place at his feet. Krishna, awaking, offers to give his vast
army to one of them, and himself as counsellor to the other; and
Arjuna gladly allows Duryodhana to take the army, which turns out much
the worse bargain. The embassy, meantime, is badly received; but it is
determined to reply by a counter-message, while warlike preparations
continue. There is a great deal of useless negotiation, against which
Draupadí protests, like another Constance, saying, "War, war! no
peace! Peace is to me a war!" Krishna consoles her with the words,
"Weep not! the time has nearly come when the Kauravas will be slain,
both great and small, and their wives will mourn as you have been
mourning." The ferocity of the chief of the Kauravas prevails over the
wise counsels of the blind old king and the warnings of Krishna, so
that the fatal conflict must now begin upon the plain of Kurukshetra.

All is henceforth martial and stormy in the "parvas" that ensue. The
two enormous hosts march to the field, generalissimos are selected,
and defiances of the most violent and abusive sort exchanged. Yet
there are traces of a singular civilisation in the rules which the
leaders draw up to be observed in the war. Thus, no stratagems are to
be used; the fighting men are to fraternise, if they will, after each
combat; none may slay the flier, the unarmed, the charioteer, or the
beater of the drum; horsemen are not to attack footmen, and nobody is
to fling a spear till the preliminary challenges are finished; nor may
any third man interfere when two combatants are engaged. These curious
regulations--which would certainly much embarrass Von Moltke--are,
sooth to say, not very strictly observed, and, no doubt, were inserted
at a later age in the body of the poem by its Brahman editors. Those
same interpolaters have overloaded the account of the eighteen days of
terrific battle which follow with many episodes and interruptions,
some very eloquent and philosophic; indeed, the whole _Bhagavad-Gîta_
comes in hereabouts as a religious interlude. Essays on laws, morals,
and the sciences are grafted, with lavish indifference to the
continuous flow of the narrative, upon its most important portions;
but there is enough of solid and tremendous fighting, notwithstanding,
to pale the crimson pages of the Greek Iliad itself. The field
glitters, indeed, with kings and princes in panoply of gold and
jewels, who engage in mighty and varied combats, till the earth swims
in blood, and the heavens themselves are obscured with dust and flying
weapons. One by one the Kaurava chiefs are slain, and Bhíma, the
giant, at last meets in arms Duhsasana, the Kaurava prince who had
dragged Draupadí by the hair. He strikes him down with the terrible
mace of iron, after which he cuts off his head, and drinks of his
blood, saying, "Never have I tasted a draught so delicious as this."
So furious now becomes the war that even the just and mild Arjuna
commits two breaches of Aryan chivalry,--killing an enemy while
engaged with a third man, and shooting Karna dead while he is
extricating his chariot-wheel and without a weapon. At last none are
left of the chief Kauravas except Duryodhana, who retires from the
field and hides in an island of the lake. The Pandavas find him out,
and heap such reproaches on him that the surly warrior comes forth at
length, and agrees to fight with Bhíma. The duel proves of a
tremendous nature, and is decided by an act of treachery; for Arjuna,
standing by, reminds Bhíma, by a gesture, of his oath to break the
thigh of Duryodhana, because he had bidden Draupadí sit on his knee.
The giant takes the hint, and strikes a foul blow, which cripples the
Kaurava hero, and he falls helpless to earth. After this the Pandava
princes are declared victorious, and Yudhishthira is proclaimed king.

The great poem soon softens its martial music into a pathetic strain.
The dead have to be burned, and the living reconciled to their new
lords; while afterwards King Yudhishthira is installed in high state
with "chámaras, golden umbrellas, elephants, and singing." He is
enthroned facing towards the east, and touches rice, flowers, earth,
gold, silver, and jewels, in token of owning all the products of his
realm. Being thus firmly seated on his throne, with his cousins round
him, the Rajah prepares to celebrate the most magnificent of ancient
Hindu rites,--the _Aswamedha_, or Sacrifice of the Horse. It is
difficult to raise the thoughts of a modern and Western public to the
solemnity, majesty, and marvel of this antique Oriental rite, as
viewed by Hindus. The monarch who was powerful enough to perform it
chose a horse of pure white colour, "like the moon," with a saffron
tail, and a black right ear; or the animal might be all black, without
a speck of colour. This steed, wearing a gold plate on its forehead,
with the royal name inscribed, was turned loose, and during a whole
year the king's army was bound to follow its wanderings. Whithersoever
it went, the ruler of the invaded territory must either pay homage to
the king, and join him with his warriors, or accept battle; but
whether conquered or peacefully submitting, all these princes must
follow the horse, and at the end of the year assist at the sacrifice
of the consecrated animal. Moreover, during the whole year the king
must restrain all passion, live a perfectly purified life, and sleep
on the bare ground. The white horse could not be loosened until the
night of the full moon in _Chaitra_, which answers to the latter half
of March and the first half of April,--in fact, at Easter-time; and it
may be observed here that this is not the only strange coincidence in
the sacrifice. It was thus an adventure of romantic conquest, mingled
with deep religion and arrogant ostentation; and the entire
description of the _Aswamedha_ would prove most interesting. The horse
is found, is adorned with the golden plate, and turned loose,
wandering into distant regions; where the army of Arjuna--for it was
he who led Yudhishthira's forces--goes through twelve amazing
adventures. They come, for instance, to a land of Amazons, all of
wonderful beauty, wearing armour of pearls and gold, and equally fatal
either to love or to fight with. These dazzling enemies, however,
finally submit, as also the Rajah of the rich city of Babhruváhan,
which possessed high walls of solid silver, and was lighted with
precious jewels for lamps. The serpent people, in the same way, who
live beneath the earth in the city of Vasuki, yield, after combat, to
Arjuna. A thousand million semi-human snakemen dwelt there, with wives
of consummate loveliness, possessing in their realm gems which would
restore dead people to life, as well as a fountain of perpetual youth.
Finally, Arjuna's host marches back in great glory, and with a vast
train of vanquished monarchs, to the city of Hastinapura, where all
the subject kings have audience of Yudhishthira, and the immense
preparations begin for the sacrifice of the snow-white horse.

After all these stately celebrations, it might be expected that the
great poem would conclude with the established glories of the ancient
dynasty. But if the martial part of the colossal epic is "Kshatriyan,"
and the religious episodes "Brahmanic," the conclusion breathes the
spirit of Buddhism. Yudhishthira sits grandly on the throne; but
earthly greatness does not content the soul of man, nor can riches
render weary hearts happy. A wonderful scene, which reads like a
rebuke from the dead addressed to the living upon the madness of all
war, occurs in this part of the poem. The Pandavas and the old King
Dhritarashtra being together by the banks of the Ganges, the great
saint Vyása undertakes to bring back to them all the departed, slain
in their fratricidal conflict. The spectacle is at once terrible and
tender.

But this revealing of the invisible world deepens the discontent of
the princes, and when the sage Vyása tells them that their prosperity
is near its end, they determine to leave their kingdom to younger
princes, and to set out with their faces towards Mount Meru, where is
Indra's heaven. If, haply, they may reach it, there will be an end of
this world's joys and sorrows, and "union with the Infinite" will be
obtained. My translations from the Sanskrit of the two concluding
parvas of the poem (of which the above is a swift summary) describe
the "Last Journey" of the princes and their "Entry into Heaven;" and
herein occurs one of the noblest religious apologues not only of this
great Epic but of any creed,--a beautiful fable of faithful love
which may be contrasted, to the advantage of the Hindu teaching, with
any Scriptural representations of Death, and of Love, "which stronger
is than Death." There is always something selfish in the anxiety of
Orthodox people to save their own souls, and our best religious
language is not free from that taint of pious egotism. The Parvas of
the Mahábhárata which contain Yudhishthira's approach to Indra's
paradise teach, on the contrary, that deeper and better lesson nobly
enjoined by an American poet--

    "The gate of heaven opens to none alone,
    Save thou one soul, and it shall save thine own."

These prefatory remarks seemed necessary to introduce the subjoined
close paraphrase of the "Book of the Great Journey,"--and the "Book of
the Entry into Heaven;" being the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Parvas of
the noble but, as yet, almost unknown Mahábhárata.

THE MAHAPRASTHÁNIKA PARVA OF THE MAHÁBHÁRATA.

"THE GREAT JOURNEY."

    _To Narayen, Lord of lords, be glory given,
    To sweet Saraswati, the Queen in Heaven,
    To great Vyása, eke, pay reverence due,
    So shall this story its high course pursue._

    Then Janmejaya prayed: "Thou Singer, say,
    What wrought the princes of the Pandavas
    On tidings of the battle so ensued,
    And Krishna, gone on high?"

                                 Answered the Sage:
    "On tidings of the wreck of Vrishni's race,
    King Yudhishthira of the Pandavas
    Was minded to be done with earthly things,
    And to Arjuna spake: 'O noble Prince,
    Time endeth all; we linger, noose on neck,
    Till the last day tightens the line, and kills.
    Let us go forth to die, being yet alive,'
    And Kunti's son, the great Arjuna, said:
    'Let us go forth to die!--Time slayeth all;
    We will find Death, who seeketh other men.'
    And Bhimasena, hearing, answered: 'Yea!
    We will find Death!' and Sahadev cried: 'Yea!'
    And his twin brother Nakula: whereat
    The princes set their faces for the Mount.

    "But Yudhishthira--ere he left his realm,
    To seek high ending--summoned Yuyutsu,
    Surnamed of fights, and set him over all,
    Regent, to rule in Parikshita's name
    Nearest the throne; and Parikshita king
    He crowned, and unto old Subhadra said:
    'This, thy son's son, shall wear the Kuru crown,
    And Yadu's offspring, Vajra, shall be first
    In Yadu's house. Bring up the little prince
    Here in our Hastinapur, but Vajra keep
    At Indraprasth; and let it be thy last
    Of virtuous works to guard the lads, and guide.'

    "So ordering ere he went, the righteous king
    Made offering of white water, heedfully,
    To Vasudev, to Rama, and the rest,--
    All funeral rites performing; next he spread
    A funeral feast, whereat there sate as guests
    Narada, Dwaipayana, Bharadwaj,
    And Markandeya, rich in saintly years,
    And Tajnavalkya, Hari, and the priests.
    Those holy ones he fed with dainty meats
    In kingliest wise, naming the name of Him
    Who bears the bow: and--that it should be well
    For him and his--gave to the Brahmanas
    Jewels of gold and silver, lakhs on lakhs.
    Fair broidered cloths, gardens and villages,
    Chariots and steeds and slaves.

                                 "Which being done,--
    O Best of Bhârat's line!--he bowed him low
    Before his Guru's feet,--at Kripa's feet,
    That sage all honoured,--saying, 'Take my prince;
    Teach Parikshita as thou taughtest me;
    For hearken, ministers and men of war!
    Fixed is my mind to quit all earthly state.'
    Full sore of heart were they, and sore the folk
    To hear such speech, and bitter spread the word
    Through town and country, that the king would go;
    And all the people cried, 'Stay with us, Lord!'
    But Yudhishthira knew the time was come,
    Knew that life passes and that virtue lasts,
    And put aside their love.

                                 "So--with farewells
    Tenderly took of lieges and of lords--
    Girt he for travel, with his princely kin,
    Great Yudhishthira, Dharma's royal son.
    Crest-gem and belt and ornaments he stripped
    From off his body, and, for broidered robe
    A rough dress donned, woven of jungle-bark;
    And what he did--O Lord of men!--so did
    Arjuna, Bhíma, and the twin-born pair,
    Nakula with Sahadev, and she--in grace
    The peerless--Draupadí. Lastly these six,
    Thou son of Bhârata! in solemn form
    Made the high sacrifice of Naishtiki,
    Quenching their flames in water at the close;
    And so set forth, 'midst wailing of all folk
    And tears of women, weeping most to see
    The Princess Draupadí--that lovely prize
    Of the great gaming, Draupadí the Bright--
    Journeying afoot; but she and all the Five
    Rejoiced, because their way lay heavenwards.

    "Seven were they, setting forth,--princess and king,
    The king's four brothers, and a faithful dog.
    Those left Hastinapur; but many a man,
    And all the palace household, followed them
    The first sad stage; and, ofttimes prayed to part,
    Put parting off for love and pity, still
    Sighing 'A little farther!'--till day waned;
    Then one by one they turned, and Kripa said,
    'Let all turn back, Yuyutsu! These must go.'
    So came they homewards, but the Snake-King's child,
    Ulùpi, leapt in Ganges, losing them;
    And Chitranâgad with her people went
    Mournful to Munipoor, whilst the three queens
    Brought Parikshita in.

                                 "Thus wended they,
    Pandu's five sons and loveliest Draupadí,
    Tasting no meat, and journeying due east;
    On righteousness their high hearts bent, to heaven
    Their souls assigned; and steadfast trode their feet,
    By faith upborne, past nullah, ran, and wood,
    River and jheel and plain. King Yudhishthir
    Walked foremost, Bhíma followed, after him
    Arjuna, and the twin-born brethren next,
    Nakula with Sahadev; in whose still steps--
    O Best of Bhârat's offspring!--Draupadí,
    That gem of women, paced; with soft, dark face,--
    Beautiful, wonderful!--and lustrous eyes,
    Clear-lined like lotus-petals; last the dog,
    Following the Pandavas.

                                 "At length they reach
    The far Lauchityan Sea, which foameth white
    Under Udayachâla's ridge.--Know ye
    That all this while Nakula had not ceased
    Bearing the holy bow, named Gandiva,
    And jewelled quiver, ever filled with shafts
    Though one should shoot a thousand thousand times.
    Here--broad across their path--the heroes see
    Agni, the god. As though a mighty hill
    Took form of front and breast and limb, he spake.
    Seven streams of shining splendour rayed his brow,
    While the dread voice said: 'I am Agni, chiefs!
    O sons of Pandu, I am Agni! Hail!
    O long-armed Yudhishthira, blameless king,--
    O warlike Bhíma,--O Arjuna, wise,--
    O brothers twin-born from a womb divine,--
    Hear! I am Agni, who consumed the wood
    By will of Narayan for Arjuna's sake.
    Let this your brother give Gandiva back--
    The matchless bow: the use for it is o'er.
    That gem-ringed battle-discus which he whirled
    Cometh again to Krishna in his hand
    For avatars to be; and need is none
    Henceforth of this most excellent bright bow,
    Gandiva, which I brought for Partha's aid
    From high Varuna. Let it be returned.
    Cast it herein!'

                      "And all the princes said,
    'Cast it, dear brother!' So Arjuna threw
    Into that sea the quiver ever-filled,
    And glittering bow. Then led by Agni's light,
    Unto the south they turned, and so south-west,
    And afterwards right west, until they saw
    Dwaraka, washed and bounded by a main
    Loud-thundering on its shores; and here--O Best!--
    Vanished the God; while yet those heroes walked,
    Now to the north-west bending, where long coasts
    Shut in the sea of salt, now to the north,
    Accomplishing all quarters, journeyed they;
    The earth their altar of high sacrifice,
    Which these most patient feet did pace around
    Till Meru rose.

                      "At last it rose! These Six,
    Their senses subjugate, their spirits pure,
    Wending alone, came into sight--far off
    In the eastern sky--of awful Himavan;
    And, midway in the peaks of Himavan,
    Meru, the Mountain of all mountains, rose,
    Whose head is Heaven; and under Himavan
    Glared a wide waste of sand, dreadful as death.

    "Then, as they hastened o'er the deadly waste,
    Aiming for Meru, having thoughts at soul
    Infinite, eager,--lo! Draupadí reeled,
    With faltering heart and feet; and Bhíma turned
    Gazing upon her; and that hero spake
    To Yudhishthira: 'Master, Brother, King
    Why doth she fail? For never all her life
    Wrought our sweet lady one thing wrong, I think.
    Thou knowest, make us know, why hath she failed?'

    "Then Yudhishthira answered: 'Yea, one thing.
    She loved our brother better than all else,--
    Better than heaven: that was her tender sin,
    Fault of a faultless soul; she pays for that'
    'So spake the monarch, turning not his eyes,
    Though Draupadí lay dead--striding straight on
    For Meru, heart-full of the things of heaven,
    Perfect and firm. But yet a little space,
    And Sahadev fell down, which Bhíma seeing,
    Cried once again: 'O King, great Madri's son
    Stumbles and sinks. Why hath he sunk?--so true,
    So brave and steadfast, and so free from pride!'

    "'He was not free,' with countenance still fixed,
    Quoth Yudhishthira; 'he was true and fast
    And wise, yet wisdom made him proud; he hid
    One little hurt of soul, but now it kills.'

    "So saying, he strode on--Kunti's strong son--
    And Bhíma, and Arjuna followed him,
    And Nakula, and the hound; leaving behind
    Sahadev in the sands. But Nakula,
    Weakened and grieved to see Sahadev fall--
    His loved twin-brother--lagged and stayed; and next
    Prone on his face he fell, that noble face
    Which had no match for beauty in the land,--
    Glorious and godlike Nakula! Then sighed
    Bhíma anew: 'Brother and Lord! the man
    Who never erred from virtue, never broke
    Our fellowship, and never in the world
    Was matched for goodly perfectness of form
    Or gracious feature,--Nakula has fallen!'

    "But Yudhishthira, holding fixed his eyes,--
    That changeless, faithful, all-wise king,--replied:
    'Yea, but he erred. The godlike form he wore
    Beguiled him to believe none like to him,
    And he alone desirable, and things
    Unlovely to be slighted. Self-love slays
    Our noble brother. Bhíma, follow! Each
    Pays what his debt was.'

                          "Which Arjuna heard,
    Weeping to see them fall; and that stout son
    Of Pandu, that destroyer of his foes,
    That prince, who drove through crimson waves of war,
    In old days, with his chariot-steeds of milk,
    He, the arch-hero, sank! Beholding this,--
    The yielding of that soul unconquerable,
    Fearless, divine, from Sákra's self derived,
    Arjuna's,--Bhíma cried aloud: 'O king!
    This man was surely perfect. Never once,
    Not even in slumber when the lips are loosed,
    Spake he one word that was not true as truth.
    Ah, heart of gold, why art thou broke? O King!
    Whence falleth he?'

                          "And Yudhishthira said,
    Not pausing: 'Once he lied, a lordly lie!
    He bragged--our brother--that a single day
    Should see him utterly consume, alone,
    All those his enemies,--which could not be.
    Yet from a great heart sprang the unmeasured speech.
    Howbeit, a finished hero should not shame
    Himself in such wise, nor his enemy,
    If he will faultless fight and blameless die:
    This was Arjuna's sin. Follow thou me!'

    "So the king still went on. But Bhíma next
    Fainted, and stayed upon the way, and sank;
    Yet, sinking cried, behind the steadfast prince:
    'Ah, brother, see! I die! Look upon me,
    Thy well-beloved! Wherefore falter I,
    Who strove to stand?'

                          "And Yudhishthira said:
    'More than was well the goodly things of earth
    Pleased thee, my pleasant brother! Light the offence,
    And large thy virtue; but the o'er-fed flesh
    Plumed itself over spirit. Pritha's son,
    For this thou failest, who so near didst gain.'

    "Thenceforth alone the long-armed monarch strode,
    Not looking back,--nay! not for Bhíma'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!
    Sákra 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 Yudhishthira 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 kinsmen and the queen--these will attain--
    With Krishna. Grieve no longer for thy dead,
    Thou chief of men! their mortal covering stripped,
    They 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.'

    "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 Yudhishthira 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 would not leave one living thing I loved.'

    "Then sternly Indra spake: 'He is unclean,
    And into Swarga such shall enter not.
    The Krodhavasha's hand 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 offence 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.
    Why didst thou quit thy brethren on the way,
    Quit Krishna, quit the dear-loved Draupadí,
    Attaining, firm and glorious, to this Mount
    Through perfect deeds, to linger for a brute?
    Hath Yudhishthira vanquished self, to melt
    With one poor passion at the door of bliss?
    Stay'st thou for this, who didst not stay for them,--
    Draupadí, Bhíma?'

                          "But the king yet spake:
    ''Tis known that none can hurt or help the dead.
    They, the delightful ones, who sank and died,
    Following my footsteps, could not live again
    Though I had turned,--therefore I did not turn;
    But could help profit, I had turned to help.
    There be four sins, O Sákra, grievous sins:
    The first is making suppliants despair,
    The second is to slay a nursing wife,
    The third is spoiling Brahmans' goods by force,
    The fourth is injuring an ancient friend.
    These four I deem not direr than the sin,
    If one, in coming forth from woe to weal,
    Abandon any meanest comrade then.'

    "Straight as he spake, brightly great Indra smiled;
    Vanished the hound;--and in its stead stood there
    The Lord of Death and Justice, Dharma's self!
    Sweet were the words which fell from those dread lips,
    Precious the lovely praise: 'O thou true king,
    Thou that dost bring to harvest the good seed
    Of Pandu's righteousness; thou that hast ruth
    As he before, on all which lives!--O Son,
    I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time
    The Yaksha smote them, bringing water; then
    Thou prayedst for Nakula's life--tender and just--
    Not Bhíma's nor Arjuna's, true to both,
    To Madrî as to Kuntî, to both queens.
    Hear thou my word! Because thou didst not mount
    This car divine, lest the poor hound be shent
    Who looked to thee, lo! there is none in heaven
    Shall sit above thee, King!--Bhârata's son,
    Enter thou now to the eternal joys,
    Living and in thy form. Justice and Love
    Welcome thee, Monarch! thou shalt throne with us!'

    "Thereat those mightiest Gods, in glorious train,
    Mahendra, Dharma,--with bright retinue
    Of Maruts, Saints, Aswin-Kumãras, Nats,
    Spirits and Angels,--bore the king aloft,
    The thundering chariot first, and after it
    Those airy-moving Presences. Serene,
    Clad in great glory, potent, wonderful,
    They glide at will,--at will they know and see,
    At wish their wills are wrought; for these are pure,
    Passionless, hallowed, perfect, free of earth,
    In such celestial midst the Pandu king
    Soared upward; and a sweet light filled the sky
    And fell on earth, cast by his face and form,
    Transfigured as he rose; and there was heard
    The voice of Narad,--it is he who sings,
    Sitting in heaven, the deeds that good men do
    In all the quarters,--Narad, chief of bards,
    Narad the wise, who laudeth purity,--
    So cried he: 'Thou art risen, unmatched king,
    Whose greatness is above all royal saints.
    Hail, son of Pandu! like to thee is none
    Now or before among the sons of men,
    Whose fame hath filled the three wide worlds, who com'st
    Bearing thy mortal body, which doth shine
    With radiance as a god's.'

                          "The glad king heard
    Narad's loud praise; he saw the immortal gods,--
    Dharma, Mahendra; and dead chiefs and saints,
    Known upon earth, in blessed heaven he saw;
    But only those. 'I do desire,' he said,
    'That region, be it of the Blest as this,
    Or of the Sorrowful some otherwhere,
    Where my dear brothers are, and Draupadí.
    I cannot stay elsewhere! I see them not!'

    "Then answer made Purandará, the God:
    'O thou compassionate and noblest One,
    Rest in the pleasures which thy deeds have gained.
    How, being as are the Gods, canst thou live bound
    By mortal chains? Thou art become of Us,
    Who live above hatred and love, in bliss
    Pinnacled, safe, supreme. Sun of thy race.
    Thy brothers cannot reach where thou hast climbed:
    Most glorious lord of men, let not thy peace
    Be touched by stir of earth! Look! this is Heaven.
    See where the saints sit, and the happy souls,
    Siddhas and angels, and the gods who live
    For ever and for ever.'

                          "'King of gods,'
    Spake Yudhishthira, 'but I will not live
    A little space without those souls I loved.
    O Slayer of the demons! let me go
    Where Bhíma and my brothers are, and she,
    My Draupadí, the princess with the face
    Softer and darker than the Vrihat-leaf,
    And soul as sweet as are its odours. Lo!
    Where they have gone, there will I surely go,'"

_THE ILIAD OF INDIA._

THE SWARGAROHANA PARVA OF THE MAHÁBHARATA; OR, "THE ENTRY INTO
HEAVEN."

    _To Narayen, Lord of lords, be glory given,
    To Queen Saraswati be praise in heaven;
    Unto Vyâsa pay the reverence due,--
    So may this story its high course pursue._

    Then Janmejaya said: "I am fain to learn
    How it befell with my great forefathers,
    The Pandu chiefs and Dhritarashtra's sons,
    Being to heaven ascended. If thou know'st,--
    And thou know'st all, whom wise Vyâsa taught--
    Tell me, how fared it with those mighty souls?"

    Answered the Sage: "Hear of thy forefathers--
    Great Yudhishthira and the Pandu lords--
    How it befell. When thus the blameless king
    Was entered into heaven, there he beheld
    Duryodhana, his foe, throned as a god
    Amid the gods; splendidly sate that prince,
    Peaceful and proud, the radiance of his brows
    Far-shining like the sun's; and round him thronged
    Spirits of light, with Sádhyas,--companies
    Goodly to see. But when the king beheld
    Duryodhana in bliss, and not his own,--
    Not Draupadí, nor Bhíma, nor the rest,--
    With quick-averted face and angry eyes
    The monarch spake: 'Keep heaven for such as these
    If these come here! I do not wish to dwell
    Where he is, whom I hated rightfully,
    Being a covetous and witless prince,
    Whose deed it was that in wild fields of war
    Brothers and friends by mutual slaughter fell,
    While our swords smote, sharpened so wrathfully
    By all those wrongs borne wandering in the woods:
    But Draupadí's the deepest wrong, for he--
    He who sits there--haled her before the court,
    Seizing that sweet and virtuous lady--he!--
    With grievous hand wound in her tresses. Gods,
    I cannot look upon him! Sith 'tis so,
    Where are my brothers? Thither will I go!'

    "Smiling, bright Narada, the Sage, replied:
    'Speak thou not rashly! Say not this, O King!
    Those who come here lay enmities aside.
    O Yudhishthira, long-armed monarch, hear!
    Duryodhana is cleansed of sin; he sits
    Worshipful as the saints, worshipped by saints
    And kings who lived and died in virtue's path,
    Attaining to the joys which heroes gain
    Who yield their breath in battle. Even so
    He that did wrong thee, knowing not thy worth,
    Hath won before thee hither, raised to bliss
    For lordliness, and valour free of fear.
    Ah, well-beloved Prince! ponder thou not
    The memory of that gaming, nor the griefs
    Of Draupadí, nor any vanished hurt
    Wrought in the passing shows of life by craft
    Or wasteful war. Throne happy at the side
    Of this thy happy foeman,--wiser now;
    For here is Paradise, thou chief of men!
    And in its holy air hatreds are dead.'

    "Thus by such lips addressed the Pandu king
    Answered uncomforted: 'Duryodhana,
    If he attains, attains; yet not the less
    Evil he lived and ill he died,--a heart
    Impious and harmful, bringing woes to all,
    To friends and foes. His was the crime which cost
    Our land its warriors, horses, elephants;
    His the black sin that set us in the field,
    Burning for rightful vengeance. Ye are gods,
    And just; and ye have granted heaven to him.
    Show me the regions, therefore, where they dwell,
    My brothers, those, the noble-souled, the loyal,
    Who kept the sacred laws, who swerved no step
    From virtue's path, who spake the truth, and lived
    Foremost of warriors. Where is Kunti's son,
    The hero-hearted Karna? Where are gone
    Sátyaki, Dhrishtadyumna, with their sons?
    And where those famous chiefs who fought for me.
    Dying a splendid death? I see them not.
    O Narada, I see them not! No King
    Draupada! no Viráta! no glad face
    Of Dhrisktaketu! no Shikandina,
    Prince of Panchála, nor his princely boys!
    Nor Abhimanyu the unconquerable!
    President Gods of heaven! I see not here
    Radha's bright son, nor Yudhamanyu,
    Nor Uttamanjaso, his brother dear!
    Where are those noble Maharashtra lords,
    Rajahs and rajpoots, slain for love of me?
    Dwell they in glory elsewhere, not yet seen?
    If they be here, high Gods! and those with them
    For whose sweet sakes I lived, here will I live,
    Meek-hearted; but if such be not adjudged
    Worthy, I am not worthy, nor my soul
    Willing to rest without them. Ah, I burn,
    Now in glad heaven, with grief, bethinking me
    Of those my mother's words, what time I poured
    Death-water for my dead at Kurkshetra,--
    "Pour for Prince Karna, Son!" but I wist not
    His feet were as my mother's feet, his blood
    Her blood, my blood. O Gods! I did not know,--
    Albeit Sákra's self had failed to break
    Our battle, where _he_ stood. I crave to see
    Surya's child, that glorious chief who fell
    By Saryasáchi's hand, unknown of me;
    And Bhíma! ah, my Bhíma! dearer far
    Than life to me; Arjuna, like a god,
    Nakla and Sahadev, twin lords of war,
    With tenderest Draupadí! Show me those souls!
    I cannot tarry where I have them not.
    Bliss is not blissful, just and mighty Ones!
    Save if I rest beside them. Heaven is there
    Where Love and Faith make heaven. Let me go!'

    "And answer made the hearkening heavenly Ones:
    'Go, if it seemeth good to thee, dear Son!
    The King of gods commands we do thy will.'"

    So saying [the Bard went on] Dharma's own voice
    Gave ordinance, and from the shining bands
    A golden Deva glided, taking hest
    To guide the king there where his kinsmen were.
    So wended these, the holy angel first,
    And in his steps the king, close following.
    Together passed they through the gates of pearl,
    Together heard them close; then to the left
    Descending, by a path evil and dark,
    Hard to be traversed, rugged, entered they
    The 'SINNERS' ROAD.' The tread of sinful feet
    Matted the thick thorns carpeting its slope;
    The smell of sin hung foul on them; the mire
    About their roots was trampled filth of flesh
    Horrid with rottenness, and splashed with gore
    Curdling in crimson puddles; where there buzzed
    And sucked and settled creatures of the swamp,
    Hideous in wing and sting, gnat-clouds and flies,
    With moths, toads, newts, and snakes red-gulleted,
    And livid, loathsome worms, writhing in slime
    Forth from skull-holes and scalps and tumbled bones.
    A burning forest shut the roadside in
    On either hand, and 'mid its crackling boughs
    Perched ghastly birds, or flapped amongst the flames,--
    Vultures and kites and crows,--with brazen plumes
    And beaks of iron; and these grisly fowl
    Screamed to the shrieks of Prets, lean, famished ghosts,
    Featureless, eyeless, having pin-point mouths,
    Hungering, but hard to fill,--all swooping down
    To gorge upon the meat of wicked ones;
    Whereof the limbs disparted, trunks and heads,
    Offal and marrow, littered all the way.
    By such a path the king passed, sore afeared
    If he had known of fear, for the air stank
    With carrion stench, sickly to breathe; and lo!
    Presently 'thwart the pathway foamed a flood
    Of boiling waves, rolling down corpses. This
    They crossed, and then the Asipatra wood
    Spread black in sight, whereof the undergrowth
    Was sword-blades, spitting, every blade, some wretch;
    All around poison trees; and next to this,
    Strewn deep with fiery sands, an awful waste,
    Wherethrough the wicked toiled with blistering feet,
    'Midst rocks of brass, red hot, which scorched, and pools
    Of bubbling pitch that gulfed them. Last the gorge
    Of Kutashála Mali,--frightful gate
    Of utmost Hell, with utmost horrors filled.
    Deadly and nameless were the plagues seen there;
    Which when the monarch reached, nigh overborne
    By terrors and the reek of tortured flesh,
    Unto the angel spake he: 'Whither goes
    This hateful road, and where be they I seek,
    Yet find not?' Answer made the heavenly One:
    'Hither, great King, it was commanded me
    To bring thy steps. If thou be'st overborne,
    It is commanded that I lead thee back
    To where the Gods wait. Wilt thou turn and mount?'

    "Then (O thou Son of Bhárat!) Yudhishthir
    Turned heavenward his face, so was he moved
    With horror and the hanging stench, and spent
    By toil of that black travel. But his feet
    Scarce one stride measured, when about the place
    Pitiful accents rang: 'Alas, sweet King!--
    Ah, saintly Lord!--Ah, Thou that hast attained
    Place with the Blessed, Pandu's offspring!--pause
    A little while, for love of us who cry!
    Nought can harm _thee_ in all this baneful place;
    But at thy coming there 'gan blow a breeze
    Balmy and soothing, bringing us relief.
    O Pritha's son, mightiest of men! we breathe
    Glad breath again to see thee; we have peace
    One moment in our agonies. Stay here
    One moment more, Bhárata's child! Go not,
    Thou Victor of the Kurus! Being here,
    Hell softens and our bitter pains relax.'

    "These pleadings, wailing all around the place,
    Heard the King Yudhishthira,--words of woe
    Humble and eager; and compassion seized
    His lordly mind. 'Poor souls unknown!' he sighed,
    And hellwards turned anew; for what those were.
    Whence such beseeching voices, and of whom,
    That son of Pandu wist not,--only wist
    That all the noxious murk was filled with forms,
    Shadowy, in anguish, crying grace of him.
    Wherefore he called aloud,'Who speaks with me?
    What do ye here, and what things suffer ye?'
    Then from the black depth piteously there came
    Answers of whispered suffering: 'Karna I,
    O King!' and yet another,'O my Liege,
    Thy Bhíma speaks!' and then a voice again,
    'I am Arjuna, Brother!' and again,
    'Nakla is here and Sahadev!' and last
    A moan of music from the darkness sighed,
    'Draupadí cries to thee!' Thereat broke forth
    The monarch's spirit,--knowing so the sound
    Of each familiar voice,--'What doom is this?
    What have my well-beloved wrought to earn
    Death with the damned, or life loathlier than death
    In Narak's midst? Hath Karna erred so deep,
    Bhíma, Arjuna, or the glorious twins,
    Or she, the slender-waisted, sweetest, best,
    My princess,--that Duryodhana should sit
    Peaceful in Paradise with all his crew,
    Throned by Mahendra and the shining gods?
    How should these fail of bliss, and he attain?
    What were their sins to his, their splendid faults?
    For if they slipped, it was in virtue's way
    Serving good laws, performing holy rites,
    Boundless in gifts and faithful to the death.
    These be their well-known voices! Are ye here,
    Souls I loved best? Dream I, belike, asleep,
    Or rave I, maddened with accursed sights
    And death-reeks of this hellish air?'

                                     "Thereat
    For pity and for pain the king waxed wroth.
    That soul fear could not shake, nor trials tire,
    Burned terrible with tenderness, the while
    His eyes searched all the gloom, his planted feet
    Stood fast in the mid horrors. Well-nigh, then,
    He cursed the gods; well-nigh that steadfast mind
    Broke from its faith in virtue. But he stayed
    Th' indignant passion, softly speaking this
    Unto the angel: 'Go to those thou serv'st;
    Tell them I come not thither. Say I stand
    Here in the throat of hell, and here will bide--
    Nay, if I perish--while my well-belov'd
    Win ease and peace by any pains of mine.'

    "Whereupon, nought replied the shining One,
    But straight repaired unto the upper light,
    Where Sákra sate above the gods, and spake
    Before the gods the message of the king."

    "Afterward what befell?" the prince inquired.

    "Afterward, Princely One!" replied the Sage,
    "At hearing and at knowing that high deed
    (Great Yudhishthira braving hell for love),
    The Presences of Paradise uprose,
    Each Splendour in his place,--god Sákra chief;
    Together rose they, and together stepped
    Down from their thrones, treading the nether road
    Where Yudhishthira tarried. Sákra led
    The shining van, and Dharma, Lord of laws,
    Paced glorious next. O Son of Bhárata,
    While that celestial company came down--
    Pure as the white stars sweeping through the sky,
    And brighter than their brilliance--look! Hell's shades
    Melted before them; warm gleams drowned the gloom;
    Soft, lovely scenes rolled over the ill sights;
    Peace calmed the cries of torment; in its bed
    The boiling river shrank, quiet and clear;
    The Asipatra Vana--awful wood--
    Blossomed with colours; all those cruel blades,
    And dreadful rocks, and piteous scattered wreck
    Of writhing bodies, where the king had passed,
    Vanished as dreams fade. Cool and fragrant went
    A wind before their faces, as these Gods
    Drew radiant to the presence of the king,--
    Maruts; and Vasus eight, who shine and serve
    Round Indra; Rudras; Aswins; and those Six
    Immortal Lords of light beyond our light,
    Th' Adityas; Saddhyas; Siddhas,--those were there,
    With angels, saints, and habitants of heaven,
    Smiling resplendent round the steadfast prince.

    "Then spake the God of gods these gracious words
    To Yudhishthira, standing in that place:--
    "'King Yudhishthira! O thou long-armed Lord,
    This is enough! All heaven is glad of thee.
    It is enough! Come, thou most blessed one.
    Unto thy peace, well-gained. Lay now aside
    Thy loving wrath, and hear the speech of Heaven.
    It is appointed that all kings see hell.
    The reckonings for the life of men are twain:
    Of each man's righteous deeds a tally true,
    A tally true of each man's evil deeds.
    Who hath wrought little right, to him is paid
    A little bliss in Swarga, then the woe
    Which purges; who much right hath wrought, from him
    The little ill by lighter pains is cleansed,
    And then the joys. Sweet is peace after pain,
    And bitter pain which follows peace; yet they,
    Who sorely sin, taste of the heaven they miss,
    And they that suffer quit their debt at last.
    Lo! We have loved thee, laying hard on thee
    Grievous assaults of soul, and this black road.
    Bethink thee: by a semblance once, dear Son!
    Drona thou didst beguile; and once, dear Son!
    Semblance of hell hath so thy sin assoiled,
    "Which passeth with these shadows. Even thus
    Thy Bhíma came a little space t' account,
    Draupadí, Krishna,--all whom thou didst love,
    Never again to lose! Come, First of Men!
    These be delivered and their quittance made.
    Also the princes, son of Bhárata!
    Who fell beside thee fighting, have attained.
    Come thou to see! Karna, whom thou didst mourn,--
    That mightiest archer, master in all wars,--
    He hath attained, shining as doth the sun;
    Come thou and see! Grieve no more, King of Men!
    Whose love helped them and thee, and hath its meed.
    Rajas and maharajahs, warriors, aids,--
    All thine are thine for ever. Krishna waits
    To greet thee coming, 'companied by gods,
    Seated in heaven, from toils and conflicts saved.
    Son! there is golden fruit of noble deeds,
    Of prayer, alms, sacrifice. The most just Gods
    Keep thee thy place above the highest saints,
    Where thou shalt sit, divine, compassed about
    With royal souls in bliss, as Hari sits;
    Seeing Mándháta crowned, and Bhagirath,
    Daushyanti, Bhárata, with all thy line.
    Now therefore wash thee in this holy stream,
    Gunga's pure fount, whereof the bright waves bless
    All the Three Worlds. It will so change thy flesh
    To likeness of th' immortal, thou shalt leave
    Passions and aches and tears behind thee there.'

    "And when the awful Sákra thus had said,
    Lo! Dharma spake,--th' embodied Lord of Right:

    "'Bho! bho! I am well pleased! Hail to thee, Chief!
    Worthy, and wise, and firm. Thy faith is full,
    Thy virtue, and thy patience, and thy truth,
    And thy self-mastery. Thrice I put thee, King!
    Unto the trial. In the Dwaita wood,
    The day of sacrifice,--then thou stood'st fast;
    Next, on thy brethren's death and Draupadí's,
    When, as a dog, I followed thee, and found
    Thy spirit constant to the meanest friend.
    Here was the third and sorest touchstone, Son!
    That thou shouldst hear thy brothers cry in hell,
    And yet abide to help them. Pritha's child,
    We love thee! Thou art fortunate and pure,
    Past trials now. Thou art approved, and they
    Thou lov'st have tasted hell only a space,
    Not meriting to suffer more than when
    An evil dream doth come, and Indra's beam
    Ends it with radiance--as this vision ends.
    It is appointed that all flesh see death,
    And therefore thou hast borne the passing pangs,
    Briefest for thee, and brief for those of thine,--
    Bhíma the faithful, and the valiant twins
    Nakla and Sahadev, and those great hearts
    Karna, Arjuna, with thy princess dear,
    Draupadí. Come, thou best-belovèd Son,
    Blessed of all thy line! Bathe in this stream,--
    It is great Gunga, flowing through Three Worlds.'

    "Thus high-accosted, the rejoicing king
    (Thy ancestor, O Liege!) proceeded straight
    Unto that river's brink, which floweth pure
    Through the Three Worlds, mighty, and sweet, and praised.
    There, being bathed, the body of the king
    Put off its mortal, coming up arrayed
    In grace celestial, washed from soils of sin,
    From passion, pain, and change. So, hand in hand
    With brother-gods, glorious went Yudhishthir,
    Lauded by softest minstrelsy, and songs
    Of unknown music, where those heroes stood--
    The princes of the Pandavas, his kin--
    And lotus-eyed and lovliest Draupadí,
    Waiting to greet him, gladdening and glad."

_FROM THE "SAUPTIKA PARVA" OF THE MAHÁBHÁRATA,_

OR

_"NIGHT OF SLAUGHTER."_

    _To Narayen, Best of Lords, be glory given,
    To great Saraswati, the Queen in Heaven;
    Unto Vyása, too, be paid his meed,
    So shall this story worthily proceed._

    "Those vanquished warriors then," Sanjaya said,
    "Fled southwards; and, near sunset, past the tents,
    Unyoked; abiding close in fear and rage.
    There was a wood beyond the camp,--untrod,
    Quiet,--and in its leafy harbour lay
    The Princes, some among them bleeding still
    From spear and arrow-gashes; all sore-spent,
    Fetching faint breath, and fighting o'er again
    In thought that battle. But there came the noise
    Of Pandavas pursuing,--fierce and loud
    Outcries of victory--whereat those chiefs
    Sullenly rose, and yoked their steeds again,
    Driving due east; and eastward still they drave
    Under the night, till drouth and desperate toil
    Stayed horse and man; then took they lair again,
    The panting horses, and the Warriors, wroth
    With chilled wounds, and the death-stroke of their King.

    "Now were they come, my Prince," Sanjaya said,
    "Unto a jungle thick with stems, whereon
    The tangled creepers coiled; here entered they--
    Watering their horses at a stream--and pushed
    Deep in the thicket. Many a beast and bird
    Sprang startled at their feet; the long grass stirred
    With serpents creeping off; the woodland flowers
    Shook where the pea-fowl hid, and, where frogs plunged,
    The swamp rocked all its reeds and lotus-buds.
    A banian-tree, with countless dropping boughs
    Earth-rooted, spied they, and beneath its aisles
    A pool; hereby they stayed, tethering their steeds,
    And dipping water, made the evening prayer.

    "But when the 'Day-maker' sank in the west
    And Night descended--gentle, soothing Night,
    Who comforts all, with silver splendour decked
    Of stars and constellations, and soft folds
    Of velvet darkness drawn--then those wild things
    Which roam in darkness woke, wandering afoot
    Under the gloom. Horrid the forest grew
    With roar, and yelp, and yell, around that place
    Where Kripa, Kritavarman, and the son
    Of Drona lay, beneath the banian-tree;
    Full many a piteous passage instancing
    In their lost battle-day of dreadful blood;
    Till sleep fell heavy on the wearied lids
    Of Bhoja's child and Kripa. Then these Lords--
    To princely life and silken couches used--
    Sought on the bare earth slumber, spent and sad,
    As houseless outcasts lodge.

                              "But, Oh, my King!
    There came no sleep to Drona's angry son,
    Great Aswatthâman. As a snake lies coiled
    And hisses, breathing, so his panting breath
    Hissed rage and hatred round him, while he lay,
    Chin uppermost, arm-pillowed, with fierce eyes
    Roving the wood, and seeing sightlessly.
    Thus chanced it that his wandering glances turned
    Into the fig-tree's shadows, where there perched
    A thousand crows, thick-roosting, on its limbs;
    Some nested, some on branchlets, deep asleep,
    Heads under wings--all fearless; nor, O Prince!
    Had Aswatthâman more than marked the birds,
    When, lo! there fell out of the velvet night,
    Silent and terrible, an eagle-owl,
    With wide, soft, deadly, dusky wings, and eyes
    Flame-coloured, and long claws, and dreadful beak;
    Like a winged sprite, or great Garood himself;
    Offspring of Bhârata! it lighted there
    Upon the banian's bough; hooted, but low,
    The fury smothering in its throat;--then fell
    With murderous beak and claws upon those crows,
    Rending the wings from this, the legs from that,
    From some the heads, of some ripping the crops;
    Till, tens and scores, the fowl rained down to earth
    Bloody and plucked, and all the ground waxed black
    With piled crow-carcases; whilst the great owl
    Hooted for joy of vengeance, and again
    Spread the wide, deadly, dusky wings.

                                        "Up sprang
    The son of Drona: 'Lo! this owl,' quoth he,
    'Teacheth me wisdom; lo! one slayeth so
    Insolent foes asleep. The Pandu Lords
    Are all too strong in arms by day to kill;
    They triumph, being many. Yet I swore
    Before the King, my Father, I would "kill"
    And "kill"--even as a foolish fly should swear
    To quench a flame. It scorched, and I shall die
    If I dare open battle; but by art
    Men vanquish fortune and the mightiest odds.
    If there be two ways to a wise man's wish,
    Yet only one way sure, he taketh this;
    And if it be an evil way, condemned
    For Brahmans, yet the Kshattriya may do
    What vengeance bids against his foes. Our foes,
    The Pandavas, are furious, treacherous, base,
    Halting at nothing; and how say the wise
    In holy Shastras?--"Wounded, wearied, fed,
    Or fasting; sleeping, waking, setting forth,
    Or new arriving; slay thine enemies;"
    And so again, "At midnight when they sleep,
    Dawn when they watch not; noon if leaders fall;
    Eve, should they scatter; all the times and hours
    Are times and hours fitted for killing foes."'

    "So did the son of Drona steel his soul
    To break upon the sleeping Pandu chiefs
    And slay them in the darkness. Being set
    On this unlordly deed, and clear in scheme,
    He from their slumbers roused the warriors twain,
    Kripa and Kritavarman."

_THE MORNING PRAYER._

    Our Lord the Prophet (peace to him!) doth write--
    Súrah the Seventeenth, intituled "Night"--
    "Pray at the noon; pray at the sinking sun;
    In night-time pray; but most when night is done;
    For daybreak's prayer is surely borne on high
    By angels, changing guard within the sky;"
    And in another place:--"Dawn's prayer is more
    Than the wide world, with all its treasured store."

    Therefore the Faithful, when the growing light
    Gives to discern a black hair from a white,
    Haste to the mosque, and, bending Mecca-way,
    Recite _Al-Fâtihah_ while 'tis scarce yet day:
    "_Praise be to Allah--Lord of all that live:
    Merciful King and Judge! To Thee we give
    Worship and honour! Succour us, and guide
    Where those have walked who rest Thy throne beside:
    The way of Peace; the way of truthful speech;
    The way of Righteousness. So we beseech._"
    He that saith this, before the East is red,
    A hundred prayers of Azan hath he said.

    Hear now a story of it--told, I ween,
    For your souls' comfort by Jelal-ud-din,
    In the great pages of the Mesnevî;
    For therein, plain and certain, shall ye see
    How precious is the prayer at break of day
    In Allah's ears, and in his sight alway
    How sweet are reverence and gentleness
    Shown to his creatures. Àli (whom I bless!)
    The son of Abu Talib--he surnamed
    "Lion of God," in many battles famed,
    The cousin of our Lord the Prophet (grace
    Be his!)--uprose betimes one morn, to pace--
    As he was wont--unto the mosque, wherein
    Our Lord (bliss live with him!) watched to begin
    _Al-Fâtihah_. Darkling was the sky, and strait
    The lane between the city and mosque-gate,
    By rough stones broken and deep pools of rain;
    And there through toilfully, with steps of pain,
    Leaning upon his staff an old Jew went
    To synagogue, on pious errand bent:
    For those be "People of the Book,"--and some
    Are chosen of Allah's will, who have not come
    Unto full light of wisdom. Therefore he
    Àli--the Caliph of proud days to be--
    Knowing this good old man, and why he stirred
    Thus early, e'er the morning mills were heard,
    Out of his nobleness and grace of soul
    Would not thrust past, though the Jew blocked the whole
    Breadth of the lane, slow-hobbling. So they went,
    That ancient first; and in soft discontent,
    After him Àli--noting how the sun
    Flared nigh, and fearing prayer might be begun;
    Yet no command upraising, no harsh cry
    To stand aside;--because the dignity
    Of silver hairs is much, and morning praise
    Was precious to the Jew, too. Thus their ways
    Wended the pair; Great Àli, sad and slow,
    Following the greybeard, while the East, a-glow,
    Blazed with bright spears of gold athwart the blue,
    And the Muezzin's call came "_Illahu!
    Allah-il-Allah!_"

                          In the mosque, our Lord
    (On whom be peace!) stood by the Mehrab-board
    In act to bow, and _Fâtihah_ forth to say.
    But as his lips moved, some strong hand did lay
    Over his mouth a palm invisible,
    So that no voice on the Assembly fell.
    "_Ya! Rabbi 'lalamîna_" thrice he tried
    To read, and thrice the sound of reading died,
    Stayed by this unseen touch. Thereat amazed
    Our Lord Muhammed turned, arose, and gazed;
    And saw--alone of those within the shrine--
    A splendid Presence, with large eyes divine
    Beaming, and golden pinions folded down,
    Their speed still tokened by the fluttered gown.
    GABRIEL he knew, the spirit who doth stand
    Chief of the Sons of Heav'n, at God's right hand:
    "Gabriel! why stayest thou me?" the Prophet said,
    "Since at this hour the _Fâtihah_  should be read."

    But the bright Presence, smiling, pointed where
    Àli towards the outer gate drew near,
    Upon the threshold shaking off his shoes
    And giving "alms of entry," as men use.
    "Yea!" spake th' Archangel, "sacred is the sound
    Of morning-praise, and worth the world's wide round,
    Though earth were pearl and silver; therefore I
    Stayed thee, Muhammed, in the act to cry,
    Lest Àli, tarrying in the lane, should miss,
    For his good deed, its blessing and its bliss."

    Thereat th' Archangel vanished:--and our Lord
    Read _Fâtihah_ forth beneath the Mehrab-board.

_PROVERBIAL WISDOM_

FROM THE

_SHLOKAS OF THE HITOPADESA_.

DEDICATION

(_TO FIRST EDITION_)

    _To you, dear Wife--to whom beside so well?--
      True Counsellor and tried, at every shift,
    I bring my "Book of Counsels:" let it tell
      Largeness of love by littleness of gift;_

    _And take this growth of foreign skies from me,
      (A scholar's thanks for gentle help in toil,)
    Whose leaf, "though dark," like Milton's Hœmony,
      "Bears a bright golden flower, if not in this soil."_

_April 9, 1861._

PREFACE

_TO THE "BOOK OF GOOD COUNSELS."_

The _Hitopadeśa_ is a work of high antiquity and extended popularity.
The prose is doubtless as old as our own era; but the intercalated
verses and proverbs compose a selection from writings of an age
extremely remote. The _Mahábhárata_ and the textual _Veds_ are of
those quoted; to the first of which Professor M. Williams (in his
admirable edition of the _Nala_, 1860) assigns the modest date of 350
B.C., while he claims for the _Rig-Veda_ an antiquity as high as 1300
B.C. The _Hitopadeśa_ may thus be fairly styled "The Father of all
Fables;" for from its numerous translations have probably come Esop
and Pilpay, and in latter days _Reineke Fuchs_. Originally compiled in
Sanskrit, it was rendered, by order of Nushirván, in the sixth century
A.D., into Persic. From the Persic it passed, A.D. 850, into the
Arabic, and thence into Hebrew and Greek. In its own land it obtained
as wide a circulation. The Emperor Akbar, impressed with the wisdom of
its maxims and the ingenuity of its apologues, commended the work of
translating it to his own Vizier, Abdul Fazel. That Minister
accordingly put the book into a familiar style, and published it with
explanations, under the title of the _Criterion of Wisdom_. The
Emperor had also suggested the abridgment of the long series of
shlokes which here and there interrupt the narrative, and the Vizier
found this advice sound, and followed it, like the present Translator.
To this day, in India, the _Hitopadeśa_, under its own or other names
(as the _Anvári Suhaili_), retains the delighted attention of young
and old, and has some representative in all the Indian vernaculars. A
selection from the metrical Sanskrit proverbs and maxims is here
given.

_PROVERBIAL WISDOM_

FROM THE

_SHLOKAS OF THE HITOPADEŚA._

        _This Book of Counsel read, and you shall see,
         Fair speech and Sanskrit lore, and Policy._

    "Wise men, holding wisdom highest, scorn delights, more false than
        fair;
    Daily live as if Death's fingers twined already in thy hair!

    "Truly, richer than all riches, better than the best of gain,
    Wisdom is; unbought, secure--once won, none loseth her again.

    "Bringing dark things into daylight, solving doubts that vex the mind,
    Like an open eye is Wisdom--he that hath her not is blind."

    "Childless art thou? dead thy children? leaving thee to want and doole?
    Less thy misery than his is, who lives father to a fool."

    "One wise son makes glad his father, forty fools avail him not:
    One moon silvers all that darkness which the silly stars did dot."

    "Ease and health, obeisant children, wisdom, and a fair-voiced wife--
    Thus, great King! are counted up the five felicities of life."

    "For the son the sire is honoured; though the bow-cane bendeth true,
    Let the strained string crack in using, and what service shall it do?"

    "That which will not be, will not be--and what is to be, will be:
    Why not drink this easy physic, antidote of misery?"

    "Nay! but faint not, idly sighing, 'Destiny is mightiest,'
    Sesamum holds oil in plenty, but it yieldeth none unpressed."

    "Ah! it is the Coward's babble, 'Fortune taketh, Fortune gave;'
    Fortune! rate her like a master, and she serves thee like a slave."

    "Two-fold is the life we live in--Fate and Will together run:
    Two wheels bear life's chariot onward--Will it move on only one?"

    "Look! the clay dries into iron, but the potter moulds the clay:
    Destiny to-day is master--Man was master yesterday."

    "Worthy ends come not by wishing. Wouldst thou? Up, and win it, then!
    While the hungry lion slumbers, not a deer comes to his den."

    "Silly glass, in splendid settings, something of the gold may gain;
    And in company of wise ones, fools to wisdom may attain."

    "Labours spent on the unworthy, of reward the labourer balk;
    Like the parrot, teach the heron twenty words, he will not talk."

    "Ah! a thousand thoughts of sorrow, and a hundred things of dread,
    By the fools unheeded, enter day by day the wise man's head."

    "Of the day's impending dangers, Sickness, Death, and Misery,
    One will be; the wise man, waking, ponders which that one will be."

    "Good things come not out of bad things; wisely leave a longed-for ill.
    Nectar being mixed with poison serves no purpose but to kill."

    "Give to poor men, son of Kûnti--on the wealthy waste not wealth;
    Good are simples for the sick man, good for nought to him in health."

    "Be his Scripture-learning wondrous, yet the cheat will be a cheat;
    Be her pasture ne'er so bitter, yet the cow's milk will taste sweet."

    "Trust not water, trust not weapons; trust not clawed nor horned
        things;
    Neither give thy soul to women, nor thy life to Sons of Kings."

    "Look! the Moon, the silver roamer, from whose splendour darkness
        flies,
    With his starry cohorts marching, like a crowned king, through the
        skies:
    All his grandeur, all his glory, vanish in the Dragon's jaw;
    What is written on the forehead, that will be, and nothing more."

            "Counsel in danger; of it
               Unwarned, be nothing begun;
             But nobody asks a Prophet,
               Shall the risk of a dinner be run?"

    "Avarice begetteth anger; blind desires from her begin;
    A right fruitful mother is she of a countless spawn of sin."

    "Be second and not first!--the share's the same
    If all go well. If not, the Head's to blame."

    "Passion will be Slave or Mistress: follow her, she brings to woe;
    Lead her, 'tis the way to Fortune. Choose the path that thou wilt go."

    "When the time of trouble cometh, friends may ofttimes irk us most:
    For the calf at milking-hour the mother's leg is tying-post."

    "In good-fortune not elated, in ill-fortune not dismayed,
    Ever eloquent in council, never in the fight affrayed,
    Proudly emulous of honour, steadfastly on wisdom set;
    These six virtues in the nature of a noble soul are met.
    Whoso hath them, gem and glory of the three wide worlds is he;
    Happy mother she that bore him, she who nursed him on her knee."

    "Small things wax exceeding mighty, being cunningly combined;
    Furious elephants are fastened with a rope of grass-blades twined."

    "Let the household hold together, though the house be ne'er so small;
    Strip the rice-husk from the rice-grain, and it groweth not at all."

          "Sickness, anguish, bonds, and woe
          Spring from wrongs wrought long ago."

    "Keep wealth for want, but spend it for thy wife,
    And wife, and wealth, and all, to guard thy life."

    "Death, that must come, comes nobly when we give
    Our wealth, and life, and all, to make men live."

    "Floating on his fearless pinions, lost amid the noonday skies,
    Even thence the Eagle's vision kens the carcass where it lies;
    But the hour that comes to all things comes unto the Lord of Air,
    And he rushes, madly blinded, to die helpless in the snare."

    Bar thy door not to the stranger, be he friend or be he foe,
    For the tree will shade the woodman while his axe doth lay it low.

    Greeting fair, and room to rest in; fire, and water from the well--
    Simple gifts--are given freely in the house where good men dwell;--

    Young, or bent with many winters; rich, or poor whate'er thy guest,
    Honour him for thine own honour--better is he than the best.

    "Pity them that crave thy pity: who art thou to stint thy hoard,
    When the holy moon shines equal on the leper and the lord?"

    When thy gate is roughly fastened, and the asker turns away,
    Thence he bears thy good deeds with him, and his sins on thee doth lay.

    In the house the husband ruleth; men the Brahman "master" call;
    Agni is the Twice-born's Master--but the guest is lord of all.

          "He who does and thinks no wrong--
          He who suffers, being strong--
          He whose harmlessness men know--
          Unto Swarga such doth go."

    "In the land where no wise men are, men of little wit are lords;
    And the castor-oil's a tree, where no tree else its shade affords."

          "Foe is friend, and friend is foe,
          As our actions make them so."

    "That friend only is the true friend who abides when trouble comes;
    That man only is the brave man who can bear the battle-drums;
    Words are wind; deed proveth promise: he who helps at need is kin;
    And the leal wife is loving though the husband lose or win."

    "Friend and kinsman--more their meaning than the idle-hearted mind;
    Many a friend can prove unfriendly, many a kinsman less than kind:
    He who shares his comrade's portion, be he beggar, be he lord,
    Comes as truly, comes as duly, to the battle as the board--
    Stands before the king to succour, follows to the pile to sigh--
    He is friend, and he is kinsman; less would make the name a lie."

    "Stars gleam, lamps flicker, friends foretell of fate;
    The fated sees, knows, hears them--all too late."

    "Absent, flatterers' tongues are daggers--present, softer than the
        silk;
    Shun them! 'tis a draught of poison hidden under harmless milk;
    Shun them when they promise little! Shun them when they promise much!
    For enkindled, charcoal burneth--cold, it doth defile the touch."

          "In years, or moons, or half-moons three,
          Or in three days--suddenly,
          Knaves are shent--true men go free."

    "Anger comes to noble natures, but leaves there no strife or storm:
    Plunge a lighted torch beneath it, and the ocean grows not warm."

    "Noble hearts are golden vases--close the bond true metals make;
    Easily the smith may weld them, harder far it is to break.
    Evil hearts are earthen vessels--at a touch they crack a-twain,
    And what craftsman's ready cunning can unite the shards again?"

    "Good men's friendships may be broken, yet abide they friends at heart;
    Snap the stem of Luxmee's lotus, but its fibres will not part."

          "One foot goes, and one foot stands,
          When the wise man leaves his lands."

    "Over-love of home were weakness; wheresoe'er the hero come,
    Stalwart arm and steadfast spirit find or make for him a home.
    Little recks the awless lion where his hunting jungles lie--
    When he enters them be certain that a royal prey shall die."

    "Very feeble folk are poor folk; money lost takes wit away:
    All their doings fail like runnels, wasting through the summer day."

    "Wealth is friends, home, father, brother--title to respect and fame;
    Yea, and wealth is held for wisdom--that it should be so is shame."

    "Home is empty to the childless; hearts to those who friends deplore:
    Earth unto the idle-minded; and the three worlds to the poor."

    "Say the sages, nine things name not: Age, domestic joys and woes,
    Counsel, sickness, shame, alms, penance; neither Poverty disclose.
    Better for the proud of spirit, death, than life with losses told;
    Fire consents to be extinguished, but submits riot to be cold."

          "As Age doth banish beauty,
            As moonlight dies in gloom,
          As Slavery's menial duty
            Is Honour's certain tomb;

          As Hari's name and Hara's
            Spoken, charm sin away,
          So Poverty can surely
            A hundred virtues slay."

    "Half-known knowledge, present pleasure purchased with a future woe,
    And to taste the salt of service--greater griefs no man can know."

    "All existence is not equal, and all living is not life;
    Sick men live; and he who, banished, pines for children, home, and
        wife;
    And the craven-hearted eater of another's leavings lives,
    And the wretched captive, waiting for the word of doom, survives;
    But they bear an anguished body, and they draw a deadly breath;
    And life cometh to them only on the happy day of death."

    "Golden gift, serene Contentment! have thou that, and all is had;
    Thrust thy slipper on, and think thee that the earth is leather-clad."

    "All is known, digested, tested; nothing new is left to learn
    When the soul, serene, reliant, Hope's delusive dreams can spurn."

    "Hast thou never watched, awaiting till the great man's door unbarred?
    Didst thou never linger parting, saying many a sad last word?
    Spak'st thou never word of folly, one light thing thou would'st recall?
    Rare and noble hath thy life been! fair thy fortune did befall!"

    "True Religion!--'tis not blindly prating what the gurus prate,
    But to love, as God hath loved them, all things, be they small or
        great;
    And true bliss is when a sane mind doth a healthy body fill;
    And true knowledge is the knowing what is good and what is ill."

    "Poisonous though the tree of life be, two fair blossoms grow thereon:
    One, the company of good men; and sweet songs of Poets, one."

    "Give, and it shall swell thy getting; give, and thou shalt safer keep:
    Pierce the tank-wall; or it yieldeth, when the water waxeth deep."

    "When the miser hides his treasure in the earth, he doeth well;
    For he opens up a passage that his soul may sink to hell."

    "He whose coins are kept for counting, not to barter nor to give,
    Breathe he like a blacksmith's bellows, yet in truth he doth not live."

    "Gifts, bestowed with words of kindness, making giving doubly dear:
    Wisdom, deep, complete, benignant, of all arrogancy clear;
    Valour, never yet forgetful of sweet Mercy's pleading prayer;
    Wealth, and scorn of wealth to spend it--oh! but these be virtues
        rare!"

    "Sentences of studied wisdom, nought avail they unapplied;
    Though the blind man hold a lantern, yet his footsteps stray aside."

    "Would'st thou, know whose happy dwelling Fortune entereth unknown?
    His, who careless of her favour, standeth fearless in his own;
    His, who for the vague to-morrow barters not the sure to-day--
    Master of himself, and sternly steadfast to the rightful way:
    Very mindful of past service, valiant, faithful, true of heart--
    Unto such comes Lakshmi smiling--comes, and will not lightly part."

    "Be not haughty, being wealthy; droop not, having lost thine all;
    Fate doth play with mortal fortunes as a girl doth toss her ball."

    "Worldly friendships, fair but fleeting; shadows of the clouds at noon;
    Women, youth, new corn, and riches; these be pleasures passing soon."

    "For thy bread be not o'er thoughtful--Heav'n for all hath taken
        thought:
    When the babe is born, the sweet milk to the mother's breast is
        brought.

    "He who gave the swan her silver, and the hawk her plumes of pride,
    And his purples to the peacock--He will verily provide."

    "Though for good ends, waste not on wealth a minute;
    Mud may be wiped, but wise men plunge not in it."

          "Brunettes, and the Banyan's shadow,
            Well-springs, and a brick-built wall,
          Are all alike cool in the summer,
            And warm in the winter--all."

    "Ah! the gleaming, glancing arrows of a lovely woman's eye!
    Feathered with her jetty lashes, perilous they pass thee by:
    Loosed at venture from the black bows of her arching brow, they part,
    All too penetrant and deadly for an undefended heart."

    "Beautiful the Koil seemeth for the sweetness of his song,
    Beautiful the world esteemeth pious souls for patience strong;
    Homely features lack not favour when true wisdom they reveal,
    And a wife is fair and honoured while her heart is firm and leal."

    "Friend! gracious word!--the heart to tell is ill able
    Whence came to men this jewel of a syllable."

          "Whoso for greater quits small gain,
          Shall have his labour for his pain;
          The things unwon unwon remain,
          And what was won is lost again."

    "Looking down on lives below them, men of little store are great;
    Looking up to higher fortunes, hard to each man seems his fate."

    "As a bride, unwisely wedded, shuns the cold caress of eld,
    So, from coward souls and slothful, Lakshmi's favours turn repelled."

    "Ease, ill-health, home-keeping, sleeping, woman-service, and content--
    In the path that leads to greatness these be six obstructions sent."

    "Seeing how the soorma wasteth, seeing how the ant-hill grows,
    Little adding unto little--live, give, learn, as life-time, goes."

    "Drops of water falling, falling, falling, brim the chatty o'er;
    Wisdom comes in little lessons--little gains make largest store."

          "Men their cunning schemes may spin--
          God knows who shall lose or  win."

    "Shoot a hundred shafts, the quarry lives and flies--not due to death;
    When his hour is come, a grass-blade hath a point to stop his breath."

    "Robes were none, nor oil of unction, when the King of Beasts was
        crowned:
    'Twas his own fierce roar proclaimed him, rolling all the kingdom
        round."

          "What but for their vassals,
            Elephant and man--
          Swing of golden tassels,
            Wave of silken fan--
          But for regal manner
            That the 'Chattra' brings,
          Horse, and foot, and banner--
            What would come of kings?"

    "At the work-time, asking wages--is it like a faithful herd?
    When the work's done, grudging wages--is _that_ acting like a lord?"

    "Serve the Sun with sweat of body; starve thy maw to feed the flame;
    Stead thy lord with all thy service; to thy death go, quit of blame."

    "Many prayers for him are uttered whereon many a life relies;
    'Tis but one poor fool the fewer when the greedy jack-daw dies."

    "Give thy Dog the merest mouthful, and he crouches at thy feet,
    Wags his tail, and fawns, and grovels, in his eagerness to eat;
    Bid the Elephant be feeding, and the best of fodder bring;
    Gravely--after much entreaty--condescends that mighty king."

    "By their own deeds men go downward, by them men mount upward all,
    Like the diggers of a well, and like the builders of a wall."

    "Rushes down the hill the crag, which upward 'twas so hard to roll:
    So to virtue slowly rises--so to vice quick sinks the soul."

          "Who speaks unasked, or comes unbid,
          Or counts on service--will be chid."

          "Wise, modest, constant, ever close at hand,
          Not weighing but obeying all command,
          Such servant by a Monarch's throne may stand."

    "Pitiful, who fearing failure, therefore no beginning makes,
    Why forswear a daily dinner for the chance of stomach-aches?"

    "Nearest to the King is dearest, be thy merit low or high;
    Women, creeping plants, and princes, twine round that which groweth
        nigh."

    "Pearls are dull in leaden settings, but the setter is to blame;
    Glass will glitter like the ruby, dulled with dust--are they the same?"

    "And a fool may tread on jewels, setting in his turban glass;
    Yet, at selling, gems are gems, and fardels but for fardels pass."

    "Horse and weapon, lute and volume, man and woman, gift of speech,
    Have their uselessness or uses in the one who owneth each."

    "Not disparagement nor slander kills the spirit of the brave;
    Fling a torch down, upward ever burns the brilliant flame it gave."

    "Wisdom from the mouth of children be it overpast of none;
    What man scorns to walk by lamplight in the absence of the sun?"

    "Strength serves Reason. Saith the Mahout, when he beats the brazen
        drum,
    'Ho! ye elephants, to this work must your mightinesses come.'"

    "Mighty natures war with mighty: when the raging tempests blow,
    O'er the green rice harmless pass they, but they lay the palm-trees
        low."

    "Narrow-necked to let out little, big of belly to keep much,
    As a flagon is--the Vizier of a Sultan should be such."

    "He who thinks a minute little, like a fool misuses more;
    He who counts a cowry nothing, being wealthy, will be poor."

    "Brahmans, soldiers, these and kinsmen--of the three set none in
        charge:
    For the Brahman, though you rack him, yields no treasure small or
        large;
    And the soldier, being trusted, writes his quittance with his sword,
    And the kinsman cheats his kindred by the charter of the word;
    But a servant old in service, worse than any one is thought,
    Who, by long-tried license fearless, knows his master's anger nought."

    "Never tires the fire of burning, never wearies Death of slaying,
    Nor the sea of drinking rivers, nor the bright-eyed of betraying."

          "From false friends that breed thee strife,
          From a house with serpents rife,
          Saucy slaves and brawling wife--
          Get thee forth, to save thy life."

    "Teeth grown loose, and wicked-hearted ministers, and poison trees,
    Pluck them by the roots together; 'tis the thing that giveth ease."

    "Long-tried friends are friends to cleave to--never leave thou these
       i' the lurch:
    What man shuns the fire as sinful for that once it burned a church?"

    "Raise an evil soul to honour, and his evil bents remain;
    Bind a cur's tail ne'er so straightly, yet it curleth up again."

    "How, in sooth, should Trust and Honour change the evil nature's root?
    Though one watered them with nectar, poison-trees bear deadly fruit."

    "Safe within the husk of silence guard the seed of counsel so
    That it break not--being broken, then the seedling will not grow."

    "Even as one who grasps a serpent, drowning in the bitter sea,
    Death to hold and death to loosen--such is life's perplexity."

    "Woman's love rewards the worthless--kings of knaves exalters be;
    Wealth attends the selfish niggard, and the cloud rains on the sea."

    "Many a knave wins fair opinions standing in fair company,
    As the sooty soorma pleases, lighted by a brilliant eye."

    "Where the azure lotus blossoms, there the alligators hide;
    In the sandal-tree are serpents. Pain and pleasure live allied."

    "Rich the sandal--yet no part is but a vile thing habits there;
    Snake and wasp haunt root and blossom; on the boughs sit ape and bear."

    "As a bracelet of crystal, once broke, is not mended
    So the favour of princes, once altered, is ended."

    "Wrath of kings, and rage of lightning--both be very full of dread;
    But one falls on one man only--one strikes many victims dead."

    "All men scorn the soulless coward who his manhood doth forget:
    On a lifeless heap of ashes fearlessly the foot is set."

    "Simple milk, when serpents drink it, straightway into venom turns;
    And a fool who heareth counsel all the wisdom of it spurns."

          "A modest manner fits a maid,
            And Patience is a man's adorning;
          But brides may kiss, nor do amiss,
            And men may draw, at scathe and scorning."

    "Serving narrow-minded masters dwarfs high natures to their size:
    Seen before a convex mirror, elephants do show as mice."

    "Elephants destroy by touching, snakes with point of tooth beguile;
    Kings by favour kill, and traitors murder with a fatal smile."

    "Of the wife the lord is jewel, though no gems upon her beam;
    Lacking him, she lacks adornment, howsoe'er her jewels gleam!"

    "Hairs three-lakhs, and half-a-lakh hairs, on a man so many grow--
    And so many years to Swarga shall the true wife surely go!"

    "When the faithful wife, embracing tenderly her husband dead,
    Mounts the blazing pyre beside him, as it were a bridal-bed;
    Though his sins were twenty thousand, twenty thousand times o'er-told,
    She shall bring his soul to splendour, for her love so large and bold."

    "Counsel unto six ears spoken, unto all is notified
    When a King holds consultation, let it be with one beside."

    "Sick men are for skilful leeches--prodigals for poisoning--
    Fools for teachers--and the man who keeps a secret, for a King."

    "With gift, craft, promise, cause thy foe to yield;
    When these have failed thee, challenge him afield."

          "The subtle wash of waves do smoothly pass,
          But lay the tree as lowly as the grass."

    "Ten true bowmen on a rampart fifty's onset may sustain;
    Fortalices keep a country more than armies in the plain."

    "Build it strong, and build it spacious, with an entry and retreat;
    Store it well with wood and water, fill its garners full with wheat."

          "Gems will no man's life sustain;
          Best of gold is golden grain."

    "Hard it is to conquer nature: if a dog were made a King,
    'Mid the coronation trumpets he would gnaw his sandal-string."

    "'Tis no Council where no Sage is--'tis no Sage that fears not Law;
    'Tis no Law which Truth confirms not--'tis no Truth which Fear can
        awe."

          "Though base be the Herald, nor hinder nor let,
            For the mouth of a king is he;
          The sword may be whet, and the battle set,
            But the word of his message goes free."

    "Better few and chosen fighters than of shaven-crowns a host,
    For in headlong flight confounded, with the base the brave are lost."

    "Kind is kin, howe'er a stranger--kin unkind is stranger shown;
    Sores hurt, though the body breeds them--drugs relieve, though
        desert-grown."

    "Betel-nut is bitter, hot, sweet, spicy, binding, alkaline--
    A demulcent--an astringent--foe to evils intestine;
    Giving to the breath a fragrance--to the lips a crimson red;
    A detergent, and a kindler of Love's flame that lieth dead.
    Praise the Gods for the good betel!--these be thirteen virtues given,
    Hard to meet in one thing blended, even in their happy heaven."

    "He is brave whose tongue is silent of the trophies of his sword;
    He is great whose quiet bearing marks his greatness well assured."

    "When the Priest, the Leech, the Vizier of a King his flatterers be,
    Very soon the King will part with health, and wealth and piety."

    "Merciless, or money-loving, deaf to counsel, false of faith,
    Thoughtless, spiritless, or careless, changing course with every
        breath,
    Or the man who scorns his rival--if a prince should choose a foe,
    Ripe for meeting and defeating, certes he would choose him so."

    "By the valorous and unskilful great achievements are not wrought;
    Courage, led by careful Prudence, unto highest ends is brought."

    "Grief kills gladness, winter summer, midnight-gloom the light of day,
    Kindnesses ingratitude, and pleasant friends drive pain away;
    Each ends each, but none of other surer conquerors can be
    Than Impolicy of Fortune--of Misfortune Policy."

    "Wisdom answers all who ask her, but a fool she cannot aid;
    Blind men in the faithful mirror see not their reflection made."

    "Where the Gods are, or thy Gúrú--in the face of Pain and Age,
    Cattle, Brahmans, Kings, and Children--reverently curb thy rage."

    "Oh, my Prince! on eight occasions prodigality is none--
    In the solemn sacrificing, at the wedding of a son,
    When the glittering treasure given makes the proud invader bleed,
    Or its lustre bringeth comfort to the people in their need,
    Or when kinsmen are to succour, or a worthy work to end,
    Or to do a loved one honour, or to welcome back a friend."

    "Truth, munificence, and valour, are the virtues of a King;
    Royalty, devoid of either, sinks to a rejected thing."

    "Hold thy vantage!--alligators on the land make none afraid;
    And the lion's but a jackal who hath left his forest-shade."

    "The people are the lotus-leaves, their monarch is the sun--
    When he doth sink beneath the waves they vanish every one.
    When he doth rise they rise again with bud and blossom rife,
    To bask awhile in his warm smile, who is their lord and life."

    "All the cows bring forth are cattle--only now and then is born
    An authentic lord of pastures, with his shoulder-scratching horn."

    "When the soldier in the battle lays his life down for his king,
    Unto Swarga's perfect glory such a deed his soul shall bring."

    "'Tis the fool who, meeting trouble, straightway Destiny reviles,
    Knowing not his own misdoing brought his own mischance the whiles."

    "'Time-not-come' and 'Quick-at-Peril,' these two fishes 'scaped the
        net;
    'What-will-be-will-be,' he perished, by the fishermen beset."

          "Sex, that tires of being true,
          Base and new is brave to you!
          Like the jungle-cows ye range,
          Changing food for sake of change."

    "That which will not be will not be, and what is to be will be:
    Why not drink this easy physic, antidote of misery?"

    "Whoso trusts, for service rendered, or fair words, an enemy,
    Wakes from folly like one falling in his slumber from a tree."

    "Fellow be with kindly foemen, rather than with friends unkind;
    Friend and foeman are distinguished not by title but by mind."

    "Whoso setting duty highest, speaks at need unwelcome things,
    Disregarding fear and favour, such an one may succour kings."

    "Brahmans for their lore have honour; Kshattriyas for their bravery;
    Vaisyas for their hard-earned treasure; Sudras for humility."

    "Seven foemen of all foemen, very hard to vanquish be:
    The Truth-teller, the Just-dweller, and the man from passion free.

    "Subtle, self-sustained, and counting frequent well-won victories,
    And the man of many kinsmen--keep the peace with such as these."

    "For the man with many kinsmen answers by them all attacks;
    As the bambu, in the bambus safely sheltered, scorns the axe."

    "Whoso hath the gift of giving wisely, equitably, well;
    Whoso, learning all men's secrets, unto none his own will tell:
    Whoso, ever cold and courtly, utters nothing that offends,
    Such an one may rule his fellows unto Earth's extremest ends."

    "Cheating them that truly trust you, 'tis a clumsy villany!
    Any knave may slay the child who climbs and slumbers on his knee."

    "Hunger hears not, cares not, spares not; no boon of the starving beg;
    When the snake is pinched with craving, verily she eats her egg."

          "Of the Tree of State the root
          Kings are--feed what brings the fruit."

    "Courtesy may cover malice; on their _heads_ the woodmen bring,
    Meaning all the while to burn them, logs and faggots--oh, my King!
    And the strong and subtle river, rippling at the cedar's foot,
    While it seems to lave and kiss it, undermines the hanging root."

    "Weep not! Life the hired nurse is, holding us a little space;
    Death, the mother who doth take us back into our proper place."

    "Gone, with all their gauds and glories: gone, like peasants, are the
        Kings,
    Whereunto this earth was witness, whereof all her record rings."

    "For the body, daily wasting, is not seen to waste away,
    Until wasted; as in water set a jar of unbaked clay."

    "And day after day man goeth near and nearer to his fate,
    As step after step the victim thither where its slayers wait."

          "Like as a plank of drift-wood
             Tossed on the watery main,
           Another plank encountered,
             Meets,--touches,--parts again;
           So tossed, and drifting ever,
             On life's unresting sea,
           Men meet, and greet, and sever,
             Parting eternally."

    "Halt, traveller! rest i' the shade: then up and leave it!
    Stay, Soul! take fill of love; nor losing, grieve it!"

          "Each beloved object born
           Sets within the heart a thorn,
           Bleeding, when they be uptorn."

    "If thine own house, this rotting frame, doth wither,
    Thinking another's lasting--goest thou thither?"

          "Meeting makes a parting sure,
           Life is nothing but death's door."

    "As the downward-running rivers never turn and never stay,
    So the days and nights stream deathward, bearing human lives away."

    "Bethinking him of darkness grim, and death's unshunnèd pain,
    A man strong-souled relaxes hold, like leather soaked in rain."

          "From the day, the hour, the minute.
             Each life quickens in the womb;
           Thence its march, no falter in it,
             Goes straight forward to the tomb."

    "An 'twere not so, would sorrow cease with years?
    Wisdom sees right what want of knowledge fears."

    "Seek not the wild, sad heart! thy passions haunt it;
    Play hermit in thy house with heart undaunted;
    A governed heart, thinking no thought but good,
    Makes crowded houses holy solitude."

    "Away with those that preach to us the washing off of sin--
    Thine own self is the stream for thee to make ablutions in:
    In self-restraint it rises pure--flows clear in tide of truth,
    By widening banks of wisdom, in waves of peace and truth."

    "Bathe there, thou son of Pandu! with reverence and rite,
    For never yet was water wet could wash the spirit white."

    "Thunder for nothing, like December's cloud,
    Passes unmarked: strike hard, but speak not loud."

    "Minds deceived by evil natures, from the good their faith withhold;
    When hot conjee once has burned them, children blow upon the cold."

THE END.