Part 22

"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."

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"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,

"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