LITMIR.BIZ

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than kings, otherwise fed,

      And yet so like—perchance—in joys and griefs.

      But when the Prince saw sweet Yasodhara,

      Brightly he smiled, and drew his silken rein,

      Leaped to the earth from Kantaka's broad back,

      And cried, "He is not worthy of this pearl

      Who is not worthiest; let my rivals prove

      If I have dared too much in seeking her."

      Then Nanda challenged for the arrow-test

      And set a brazen drum six gows away,

      Ardjuna six and Devadatta eight;

      But Prince Siddartha bade them set his drum

      Ten gows from off the line, until it seemed

      A cowry-shell for target. Then they loosed,

      And Nanda pierced his drum, Ardjuna his,

      And Devadatta drove a well-aimed shaft

      Through both sides of his mark, so that the crowd

      Marvelled and cried; and sweet Yasodhara

      Dropped the gold sari o'er her fearful eyes,

      Lest she should see her Prince's arrow fail.

      But he, taking their bow of lacquered cane,

      With sinews bound, and strung with silver wire,

      Which none but stalwart arms could draw a span,

      Thrummed it—low laughing—drew the twisted string

      Till the horns kissed, and the thick belly snapped

      "That is for play, not love," he said; "hath none

      A bow more fit for Sakya lords to use?"

      And one said, "There is Sinhahanu's bow,

      Kept in the temple since we know not when,

      Which none can string, nor draw if it be strung."

      "Fetch me," he cried, "that weapon of a man!"

      They brought the ancient bow, wrought of black steel,

      Laid with gold tendrils on its branching curves

      Like bison-horns; and twice Siddartha tried

      Its strength across his knee, then spake "Shoot now

      With this, my cousins!" but they could not bring

      The stubborn arms a hand's-breadth nigher use;

      Then the Prince, lightly leaning, bent the bow,

      Slipped home the eye upon the notch, and twanged

      Sharply the cord, which, like an eagle's wing

      Thrilling the air, sang forth so clear and loud

      That feeble folk at home that day inquired

      "What is this sound?" and people answered them,

      "It is the sound of Sinhahanu's bow,

      Which the King's son has strung and goes to shoot;"

      Then fitting fair a shaft, he drew and loosed,

      And the keen arrow clove the sky, and drave

      Right through that farthest drum, nor stayed its flight,

      But skimmed the plain beyond, past reach of eye.

      Then Devadatta challenged with the sword,

      And clove a Talas-tree six fingers thick;

      Ardjuna seven; and Nanda cut through nine;

      But two such stems together grew, and both

      Siddartha's blade shred at one flashing stroke,

      Keen, but so smooth that the straight trunks upstood,

      And Nanda cried, "His edge turned!" and the maid

      Trembled anew seeing the trees erect,

      Until the Devas of the air, who watched,

      Blew light breaths from the south, and both green crowns

      Crashed in the sand, clean-felled.

      Then brought they steeds,

      High-mettled, nobly-bred, and three times scoured

      Around the maidan, but white Kantaka

      Left even the fleetest far behind—so swift,

      That ere the foam fell from his mouth to earth

      Twenty spear-lengths he flew; but Nanda said,

      "We too might win with such as Kantaka;

      Bring an unbroken horse, and let men see

      Who best can back him." So the syces brought

      A stallion dark as night, led by three chains,

      Fierce-eyed, with nostrils wide and tossing mane,

      Unshod, unsaddled, for no rider yet

      Had crossed him. Three times each young Sakya

      Sprang to his mighty back, but the hot steed

      Furiously reared, and flung them to the plain

      In dust and shame; only Ardjuna held

      His seat awhile, and, bidding loose the chains,

      Lashed the black flank, and shook the bit, and held

      The proud jaws fast with grasp of master-hand,

      So that in storms of wrath and rage and fear

      The savage stallion circled once the plain

      Half-tamed; but sudden turned with naked teeth,

      Gripped by the foot Ardjuna, tore him down,

      And would have slain him, but the grooms ran in,

      Fettering the maddened beast. Then all men cried,

      "Let not Siddartha meddle with this Bhut,

      Whose liver is a tempest, and his blood

      Red flame;" but the Prince said, "Let go the chains,

      Give me his forelock only," which he held

      With quiet grasp, and, speaking some low word,

      Laid his right palm across the stallion's eyes,

      And drew it gently down the angry face,

      And all along the neck and panting flanks,

      Till men astonished saw the night-black horse

      Sink his fierce crest and stand subdued and meek,

      As though he knew our Lord and worshipped him.

      Nor stirred he while Siddartha mounted, then

      Went soberly to touch of knee and rein

      Before all eyes, so that the people said,

      "Strive no more, for Siddartha is the best."

      And all the suitors answered "He is best!"

      And Suprabuddha, father of the maid,

      Said, "It was in our hearts to find thee best,

      Being dearest, yet what magic taught thee more

      Of manhood 'mid thy rose-bowers and thy dreams

      Than war and chase and world's work bring to these?

      But wear, fair Prince, the treasure thou halt won."

      Then at a word the lovely Indian girl

      Rose from her place above the

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