LITMIR.BIZ

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and Gotami—on either side,

      And those, their silk-leaved sisterhood, beyond.

      "Pleasant ye are to me, sweet friends!" he said,

      "And dear to leave; yet if I leave ye not

      What else will come to all of us save eld

      Without assuage and death without avail?

      Lo! as ye lie asleep so must ye lie

      A-dead; and when the rose dies where are gone

      Its scent and splendour? when the lamp is drained

      Whither is fled the flame? Press heavy, Night!

      Upon their down-dropped lids and seal their lips,

      That no tear stay me and no faithful voice.

      For all the brighter that these made my life,

      The bitterer it is that they and I,

      And all, should live as trees do—so much spring,

      Such and such rains and frosts, such wintertimes,

      And then dead leaves, with maybe spring again,

      Or axe-stroke at the root. This will not I,

      Whose life here was a god's!—this would not I,

      Though all my days were godlike, while men moan

      Under their darkness. Therefore farewell, friends!

      While life is good to give, I give, and go

      To seek deliverance and that unknown Light!"

      Then, lightly treading where those sleepers lay,

      Into the night Siddartha passed: its eyes,

      The watchful stars, looked love on him: its breath,

      The wandering wind, kissed his robe's fluttered fringe;

      The garden-blossoms, folded for the dawn,

      Opened their velvet hearts to waft him scents

      From pink and purple censers: o'er the land,

      From Himalay unto the Indian Sea,

      A tremor spread, as if earth's soul beneath

      Stirred with an unknown hope; and holy books—

      Which tell the story of our Lord—say, too,

      That rich celestial musics thrilled the air

      From hosts on hosts of shining ones, who thronged

      Eastward and westward, making bright the night

      Northward and southward, making glad the ground.

      Also those four dread Regents of the Earth,

      Descending at the doorway, two by two,—

      With their bright legions of Invisibles

      In arms of sapphire, silver, gold, and pearl—

      Watched with joined hands the Indian Prince, who stood,

      His tearful eyes raised to the stars, and lips

      Close-set with purpose of prodigious love.

      Then strode he forth into the gloom and cried,

      "Channa, awake! and bring out Kantaka!"

      "What would my Lord?" the charioteer replied—

      Slow-rising from his place beside the gate

      "To ride at night when all the ways are dark?"

      "Speak low," Siddartha said, "and bring my horse,

      For now the hour is come when I should quit

      This golden prison where my heart lives caged

      To find the truth; which henceforth I will seek,

      For all men's sake, until the truth be found."

      "Alas! dear Prince," answered the charioteer,

      "Spake then for nought those wise and holy men

      Who cast the stars and bade us wait the time

      When King Suddhodana's great son should rule

      Realms upon realms, and be a Lord of lords?

      Wilt thou ride hence and let the rich world slip

      Out of thy grasp, to hold a beggar's bowl?

      Wilt thou go forth into the friendless waste

      That hast this Paradise of pleasures here?"

      The Prince made answer: "Unto this I came,

      And not for thrones: the kingdom that I crave

      Is more than many realms, and all things pass

      To change and death. Bring me forth Kantaka!"

      "Most honored," spake again the charioteer,

      "Bethink thee of their woe whose bliss thou art—

      How shalt thou help them, first undoing them?"

      Siddartha answered: "Friend, that love is false

      Which clings to love for selfish sweets of love;

      But I, who love these more than joys of mine—

      Yea, more than joy of theirs—depart to save

      Them and all flesh, if utmost love avail.

      Go, bring me Kantaka!"

      Then Channa said,

      "Master, I go!" and forthwith, mournfully,

      Unto the stall he passed, and from the rack

      Took down the silver bit and bridle-chains,

      Breast-cord and curb, and knitted fast the straps,

      And linked the hooks, and led out Kantaka

      Whom tethering to the ring, he combed and dressed,

      Stroking the snowy coat to silken gloss;

      Next on the steed he laid the numdah square,

      Fitted the saddle-cloth across, and set

      The saddle fair, drew tight the jewelled girths,

      Buckled the breech-bands and the martingale,

      And made fall both the stirrups of worked gold.

      Then over all he cast a golden net,

      With tassels of seed-pearl and silken strings,

      And led the great horse to the palace door,

      Where stood the Prince; but when he saw his Lord,

      Right glad he waxed and joyously he neighed,

      Spreading his scarlet nostrils; and the books

      Write, "Surely all had heard Kantaka's neigh,

      And that strong trampling of his iron heels,

      Save that the Devas laid their unseen wings

      Over their ears and kept the sleepers deaf."

      Fondly Siddartha drew the proud head down,

      Patted the shining neck, and said, "Be still,

      White Kantaka! be still, and bear me now

      The farthest journey ever rider rode;

      For this night take I horse to find the truth,

      And where my quest will end yet know I not,

      Save that it shall not end until I find.

      Therefore tonight,

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