LITMIR.BIZ

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great and small which suffer life.

      These did our Lord see in the middle watch.

      But when the fourth watch came the secret came

      Of Sorrow, which with evil mars the law,

      As damp and dross hold back the goldsmith's fire.

      Then was the Dukha-satya opened him

      First of the "Noble Truths"; how Sorrow is

      Shadow to life, moving where life doth move;

      Not to be laid aside until one lays

      Living aside, with all its changing states,

      Birth, growth, decay, love, hatred, pleasure, pain,

      Being and doing. How that none strips off

      These sad delights and pleasant griefs who lacks

      Knowledge to know them snares; but he who knows

      Avidya—Delusion—sets those snares,

      Loves life no longer but ensues escape.

      The eyes of such a one are wide; he sees

      Delusion breeds Sankhara, Tendency

      Perverse: Tendency Energy—Vidnnan—

      Whereby comes Namarupa, local form

      And name and bodiment, bringing the man

      With senses naked to the sensible,

      A helpless mirror of all shows which pass

      Across his heart; and so Vendana grows—

      "Sense-life "—false in its gladness, fell in sadness,

      But sad or glad, the Mother of Desire,

      Trishna, that thirst which makes the living drink

      Deeper and deeper of the false salt waves

      Whereon they float—pleasures, ambitions, wealth,

      Praise, fame, or domination, conquest, love;

      Rich meats and robes, and fair abodes, and pride

      Of ancient lines, and lust of days, and strife

      To live, and sins that flow from strife, some sweet,

      Some bitter. Thus Life's thirst quenches itself

      With draughts which double thirst; but who is wise

      Tears from his soul this Trishna, feeds his sense

      No longer on false shows, fills his firm mind

      To seek not, strive not, wrong not; bearing meek

      All ills which flow from foregone wrongfulness,

      And so constraining passions that they die

      Famished; till all the sum of ended life—

      The Karma—all that total of a soul

      Which is the things it did, the thoughts it had,

      The "Self" it wove—with woof of viewless time,

      Crossed on the warp invisible of acts—

      The outcome of him on the Universe,

      Grows pure and sinless; either never more

      Needing to find a body and a place,

      Or so informing what fresh frame it takes

      In new existence that the new toils prove

      Lighter and lighter not to be at all,

      Thus "finishing the Path"; free from Earth's cheats;

      Released from all the skandhas of the flesh;

      Broken from ties—from Upandanas—saved

      From whirling on the wheel; aroused and sane

      As is a man wakened from hateful dreams;

      Until—greater than Kings, than Gods more glad!—

      The aching craze to live ends, and life glides—

      Lifeless—to nameless quiet, nameless joy,

      Blessed NIRVANA—sinless, stirless rest

      That change which never changes!

      Lo! the Dawn

      Sprang with Buddh's Victory! lo! in the East

      Flamed the first fires of beauteous day, poured forth

      Through fleeting folds of Night's black drapery.

      High in the widening blue the herald-star

      Faded to paler silver as there shot

      Brighter and brighter bars of rosy gleam

      Across the grey. Far off the shadowy hills

      Saw the great Sun, before the world was 'ware,

      And donned their crowns of crimson; flower by flower

      Felt the warm breath of Morn and 'gan unfold

      Their tender lids. Over the spangled grass

      Swept the swift footsteps of the lovely Light,

      Turning the tears of Night to joyous gems,

      Decking the earth with radiance, 'broidering

      The sinking storm-clouds with a golden fringe;

      Gilding the feathers of the palms, which waved

      Glad salutation; darting beams of gold

      Into the glades; touching with magic wand

      The stream to rippled ruby; in the brake

      Finding the mild eyes of the antelopes

      And saying, "It is day"; in nested sleep

      Touching the small heads under many a wing

      And whispering, "Children, praise the light of day!"

      Whereat there piped anthems of all the birds!

      The koil's fluted song, the bulbul's hymn,

      The "morning, morning" of the painted thrush,

      The twitter of the sunbirds starting forth

      To find the honey ere the bees be out,

      The grey crow's caw, the parrot's scream, the strokes

      Of the green hammersmith, the myna's chirp,

      The never finished love-talk of the doves

      Yea! and so holy was the influence

      Of that high Dawn which came with victory

      That, far and near, in homes of men there spread

      An unknown peace. The slayer hid his knife;

      The robber laid his plunder back; the shroff

      Counted full tale of coins; all evil hearts

      Grew gentle, kind hearts gentler, as the balm

      Of that divinest Daybreak lightened Earth.

      Kings at fierce war called truce; the sick men leaped

      Laughing from beds of pain; the dying smiled

      As though they knew that happy Morn was sprung

      From fountains farther than the utmost East;

      And o'er the heart of sad Yasodhara,

      Sitting forlorn at Prince Siddartha's bed,

      Came sudden bliss, as if love should not fail

      Nor such vast sorrow miss to end in joy.

      So glad the World was—though it wist not why—

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