The Greatest Poems of Edwin Arnold (Illustrated Edition) - Edwin Arnold

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and stood

      With eyes bent down before the Sage, who said,

      "Child, write this Scripture, speaking slow the verse

      'Gayatri' named, which only High-born hear:—

      "Om, tatsaviturvarenyam

      Bhargo devasya dhimahi

      Dhiyo yo na prachodayat."

      "Acharya, I write," meekly replied

      The Prince, and quickly on the dust he drew—

      Not in one script, but many characters

      The sacred verse; Nagri and Dakshin, Ni,

      Mangal, Parusha, Yava, Tirthi, Uk,

      Darad, Sikhyani, Mana, Madhyachar,

      The pictured writings and the speech of signs,

      Tokens of cave-men and the sea-peoples,

      Of those who worship snakes beneath the earth,

      And those who flame adore and the sun's orb,

      The Magians and the dwellers on the mounds;

      Of all the nations all strange scripts he traced

      One after other with his writing-stick.

      Reading the master's verse in every tongue;

      And Viswamitra said, "It is enough,

      Let us to numbers.

      "After me repeat

      Your numeration till we reach the Lakh,

      One, two, three, four, to ten, and then by tens

      To hundreds, thousands." After him the child

      Named digits, decads, centuries; nor paused,

      The round Lakh reached, but softly murmured on

      "Then comes the koti, nahut, ninnahut,

      Khamba, viskhamba, abab, attata,

      To kumuds, gundhikas, and utpalas,

      By pundarikas unto padumas,

      Which last is how you count the utmost grains

      Of Hastagiri ground to finest dust;

      But beyond that a numeration is,

      The Katha, used to count the stars of night;

      The Koti-Katha, for the ocean drops;

      Ingga, the calculus of circulars;

      Sarvanikchepa, by the which you deal

      With all the sands of Gunga, till we come

      To Antah-Kalpas, where the unit is

      The sands of ten crore Gungas. If one seeks

      More comprehensive scale, th' arithmic mounts

      By the Asankya, which is the tale

      Of all the drops that in ten thousand years

      Would fall on all the worlds by daily rain;

      Thence unto Maha Kalpas, by the which

      The Gods compute their future and their past."

      "'Tis good," the Sage rejoined, "Most noble Prince,

      If these thou know'st, needs it that I should teach

      The mensuration of the lineal?"

      Humbly the boy replied, "Acharya!"

      "Be pleased to hear me. Paramanus ten

      A parasukshma make; ten of those build

      The trasarene, and seven trasarenes

      One mote's-length floating in the beam, seven motes

      The whisker-point of mouse, and ten of these

      One likhya; likhyas ten a yuka, ten

      Yukas a heart of barley, which is held

      Seven times a wasp-waist; so unto the grain

      Of mung and mustard and the barley-corn,

      Whereof ten give the finger joint, twelve joints

      The span, wherefrom we reach the cubit, staff,

      Bow-length, lance-length; while twenty lengths of lance

      Mete what is named a 'breath,' which is to say

      Such space as man may stride with lungs once filled,

      Whereof a gow is forty, four times that

      A yojana; and, Master! if it please,

      I shall recite how many sun-motes lie

      From end to end within a yojana."

      Thereat, with instant skill, the little Prince

      Pronounced the total of the atoms true.

      But Viswamitra heard it on his face

      Prostrate before the boy; "For thou," he cried,

      "Art Teacher of thy teachers—thou, not I,

      Art Guru. Oh, I worship thee, sweet Prince!

      That comest to my school only to show

      Thou knowest all without the books, and know'st

      Fair reverence besides."

      Which reverence

      Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters,

      Albeit beyond their learning taught; in speech

      Right gentle, yet so wise; princely of mien,

      Yet softly-mannered; modest, deferent,

      And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood;

      No bolder horseman in the youthful band

      E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles;

      No keener driver of the chariot

      In mimic contest scoured the Palace-courts;

      Yet in mid-play the boy would ofttimes pause,

      Letting the deer pass free; would ofttimes yield

      His half-won race because the labouring steeds

      Fetched painful breath; or if his princely mates

      Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream

      Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the years

      Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord,

      Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves

      To spread its shade afar; but hardly yet

      Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears,

      Save as strange names for things not felt by kings,

      Nor ever to be felt. But it befell

      In the Royal garden on a day of spring,

      A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north

      To their nest-places on Himala's breast.

      Calling in love-notes down their snowy line

      The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted;

      And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince,

      Pointed his bow, and loosed a wilful shaft

      Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan

      Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road,

      So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed,

      Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes.

      Which

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