Part 21

"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.'