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plainest mark! He who shall draw

       As the wise tortoise draws its four feet safe

       Under its shield, his five frail senses back

       Under the spirit's buckler from the world

       Which else assails them, such an one, my Prince!

       Hath wisdom's mark! Things that solicit sense

       Hold off from the self-governed; nay, it comes,

       The appetites of him who lives beyond

       Depart,--aroused no more. Yet may it chance,

       O Son of Kunti! that a governed mind

       Shall some time feel the sense-storms sweep, and wrest

       Strong self-control by the roots. Let him regain

       His kingdom! let him conquer this, and sit

       On Me intent. That man alone is wise

       Who keeps the mastery of himself! If one

       Ponders on objects of the sense, there springs

       Attraction; from attraction grows desire,

       Desire flames to fierce passion, passion breeds

       Recklessness; then the memory--all betrayed--

       Lets noble purpose go, and saps the mind,

       Till purpose, mind, and man are all undone.

       But, if one deals with objects of the sense

       Not loving and not hating, making them

       Serve his free soul, which rests serenely lord,

       Lo! such a man comes to tranquillity;

       And out of that tranquillity shall rise

       The end and healing of his earthly pains,

       Since the will governed sets the soul at peace.

       The soul of the ungoverned is not his,

       Nor hath he knowledge of himself; which lacked,

       How grows serenity? and, wanting that,

       Whence shall he hope for happiness?

      The mind

       That gives itself to follow shows of sense

       Seeth its helm of wisdom rent away,

       And, like a ship in waves of whirlwind, drives

       To wreck and death. Only with him, great Prince!

       Whose senses are not swayed by things of sense--

       Only with him who holds his mastery,

       Shows wisdom perfect. What is midnight-gloom

       To unenlightened souls shines wakeful day

       To his clear gaze; what seems as wakeful day

       Is known for night, thick night of ignorance,

       To his true-seeing eyes. Such is the Saint!

      And like the ocean, day by day receiving

       Floods from all lands, which never overflows

       Its boundary-line not leaping, and not leaving,

       Fed by the rivers, but unswelled by those;--

      So is the perfect one! to his soul's ocean

       The world of sense pours streams of witchery;

       They leave him as they find, without commotion,

       Taking their tribute, but remaining sea.

      Yea! whoso, shaking off the yoke of flesh

       Lives lord, not servant, of his lusts; set free

       From pride, from passion, from the sin of "Self,"

       Toucheth tranquillity! O Pritha's Son!

       That is the state of Brahm! There rests no dread

       When that last step is reached! Live where he will,

       Die when he may, such passeth from all 'plaining,

       To blest Nirvana, with the Gods, attaining.

      HERE ENDETH CHAPTER II. OF THE BHAGAVAD-GITA,

       Entitled "Sankhya-Yog,"

       Or "The Book of Doctrines."

2 Technical phrases of Vedic religion.

3 The whole of this passage is highly involved and difficult to render.

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