LITMIR.BIZ

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in what clime I know not-fell in showers,

      Coloured as none are coloured in our groves."

      Then spake the Prince: "All this, my Lotus-flower!

      Was good to see."

      "Ay, Lord," the Princess said,

      "Save that it ended with a voice of fear

      Crying, `The time is nigh! the time is nigh!'

      Thereat the third dream came; for when I sought

      Thy side, sweet Lord! ah, on our bed there lay

      An unpressed pillow and an empty robe—

      Nothing of thee but those!—-nothing of thee,

      Who art my life and light, my king, my world!

      And sleeping still I rose, and sleeping saw

      Thy belt of pearls, tied here below my breasts,

      Change to a stinging snake; my ankle-rings

      Fall off, my golden bangles part and fall;

      The jasmines in my hair wither to dust;

      While this our bridal-couch sank to the ground,

      And something rent the crimson purdah down;

      Then far away I heard the white bull low,

      And far away the embroidered banner flap,

      And once again that cry, 'The time is come!'

      But with that cry—which shakes my spirit still—

      I woke! O Prince! what may such visions mean

      Except I die, or—worse than any death—

      Thou shouldst forsake me or be taken?"

      Sweet

      As the last smile of sunset was the look

      Siddartha bent upon his weeping wife.

      "Comfort thee, dear!" he said, "if comfort lives

      In changeless love; for though thy dreams may be

      Shadows of things to come, and though the gods

      Are shaken in their seats, and though the world

      Stands nigh, perchance, to know some way of help,

      Yet, whatsoever fall to thee and me,

      Be sure I loved and love Yasodhara.

      Thou knowest how I muse these many moons,

      Seeking to save the sad earth I have seen;

      And when the time comes, that which will be will.

      But if my soul yearns sore for souls unknown,

      And if I grieve for griefs which are not mine,

      Judge how my high-winged thoughts must hover here

      O'er all these lives that share and sweeten mine

      So dear! and thine the dearest, gentlest, best,

      And nearest. Ah, thou mother of my babe!

      Whose body mixed with mine for this fair hope,

      When most my spirit wanders, ranging round

      The lands and seas—as full of ruth for men

      As the far-flying dove is full of ruth

      For her twin nestlings—ever it has come

      Home with glad wing and passionate plumes to thee,

      Who art the sweetness of my kind best seen,

      The utmost of their good, the tenderest

      Of all their tenderness, mine most of all.

      Therefore, whatever after this betide,

      Bethink thee of that lordly bull which lowed,

      That jewelled banner in thy dreams which waved

      Its folds departing, and of this be sure,

      Always I loved and always love thee well,

      And what I sought for all sought most for thee.

      But thou, take comfort; and, if sorrow falls,

      Take comfort still in deeming there may be

      A way of peace on earth by woes of ours;

      And have with this embrace what faithful love

      Can think of thanks or frame for benison—

      Too little, seeing love's strong self is weak—

      Yet kiss me on the mouth, and drink these words

      From heart to heart therewith, that thou mayst know—

      What others will not—that I loved thee most

      Because I loved so well all living souls.

      Now, Princess! rest, for I will rise and watch."

      Then in her tears she slept, but sleeping sighed—

      As if that vision passed again—"The time!

      The time is come!" Whereat Siddartha turned,

      And, lo! the moon shone by the Crab! the stars

      In that same silver order long foretold

      Stood ranged to say: "This is the night!—choose thou

      The way of greatness or the way of good

      To reign a King of kings, or wander lone,

      Crownless and homeless, that the world be helped."

      Moreover, with the whispers of the gloom

      Came to his ears again that warning song,

      As when the Devas spoke upon the wind:

      And surely gods were round about the place

      Watching our Lord, who watched the shining stars.

      "I will depart," he spake; "the hour is come!

      Thy tender lips, dear sleeper, summon me

      To that which saves the earth but sunders us;

      And in the silence of yon sky I read

      My fated message flashing. Unto this

      Came I, and unto this all nights and days

      Have led me; for I will not have that crown

      Which may be mine: I lay aside those realms

      Which wait the gleaming of my naked sword

      My chariot shall not roll with bloody wheels

      From victory to victory, till earth

      Wears the red record of my name. I choose

      To tread its paths with patient, stainless feet,

      Making its dust my bed, its loneliest wastes

      My dwelling, and its meanest things my mates:

      Clad in no prouder garb than outcasts wear,

      Fed with no meats save what the charitable

      Give of their will, sheltered by no more pomp

      Than the dim cave lends or the jungle-bush,

      This will I do because the woful cry

      Of life and all flesh living cometh up

      Into my ears, and all my soul is full

      Of pity for the sickness of this world;

      Which I will heal, if healing may be found

      By uttermost renouncing and strong strife.

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