Thou mayest fare somewhat The same, if thou do likewise; and if not, Thy life may still be pleasant thou hast wealth And rank and friends and goodliness and health. Bethink thee, men are happy on far less Of this world's good: but if thou have success, And light on truth, which very much I doubt, What sort of profit wilt thou get thereout?
'Thou wilt but wake the wrath of envious priests; These will spring on thee like bloodthirsty beasts, And rend thee as a tiger rends a kid ;
Or by some secret dagger-stroke will rid
Themselves of one who meddles with their gains;
Or ban thee as an impious wretch, whom pains
Of hell await, and hurtful as a pest,
And leave the bigot crowd to do the rest.
'Hast thou no thought of those who sit alone, And mourn thy absence?' Sakya gave a groan. 'Return!' the king said, and without delay, Lest thou returning on some later day
Have but stiff welcome.' Thus he sought to find
Some argument to change Siddhartha's mind;
But laboured unavailingly, and so
Perceiving this, at last he let him go.
But ere they parted, thus the king spake : 'Prince,
As I have fail'd to move thee or convince
Thee of the folly of this toilsome task,
I will not keep thee longer than to ask
One favour of thee, and it is, that when
Thou hast found out deliverance for men
Thou wilt come hither early, and make known
Thy gospel to us dwellers in this town;
'And I will give-what surely thou wilt need-
Protection to thy person and thy creed.
Whate'er may be the product of thy thought
It must be better than what now is taught.
Farewell! our aims are diverse; yet, oh friend,
We may be of one mind towards the end.'
So Gaútama consenting to this thing,
Passed from the presence of the kindly king,
And went his way, and turn'd his feet once more
Towards the Brahman's dwelling. Long before
He came thereto, a crowd was at his heels,
For Rumour had gone forth upon the wheels
Of her swift chariot, and noised his fame :
So flocking to their doors the people came
To catch a glimpse of him as he passed by
With calm demeanour and with downcast eye.
Now when the Brahman lookt on him he said,
(Well eyeing him) 'Friend, certain men have spread
A strange report, concerning some great lord
Come hither in disguise: thou dost accord
With their description: say now, art thou he?
'O master, I am what all eyes may see,'
He answered; 'yet indeed a lord I was,
And I will tell thee how it comes to pass
'That I am here.' So he began to show
The Brahman all he cared to let him know
Of his past life; which learning, he cried: 'Son,
Believe me thou hast well and wisely done
To turn thy feet into the way of peace:
shalt not miss
Long thou shalt not pine,
For I have settled harder doubts than thine.'
So in that city he abode to learn
What he might teach him; and to pant and yearn
For knowledge that would satisfy his mind-
To prove this wise man's wisdom, and to find
The sophist lurking underneath the sage,
And all his fame a lying title-page,
Whereunder lay the scribbling of a fool
Or learned pedant of the sacred school.
'They know not truth, and yet pretend that they
Have turned the night of nature into day;
And made a plain path for all wandering feet.
They are not wise but in their own conceit,
And all who trust them wander in a night
More dark than nature's what they reckon light
Is but thick darkness. They are skill'd alone
In seeking and in holding fast their own.
'Moreover,' pondered Sakya, 'how should they
Who profit most by error lead the way
To reformation, when the same must cost
The giving up of what they value most?
Their hearts are narrow; I must look elsewhere
For that salvation wherein all may share.
I know their bigotry and scorn and pride,
They thrust the outcast and the poor aside.
'Their heavens are narrow, but full wide and deep Have they made all their heils; as flocks of sheep Are driven home on far Mongolian plains
They drive the helpless down to untold pains ;
All necks are wounded and all shoulders peel'd
Beneath their yokes and burdens: they have steel'd
Their hearts against compassion, so they can
Bring no deliverance at all to man.
I will go into solitude, and there
Seek what thus vainly I have sought elsewhere.
The silence of the voiceless woods may teach
A higher wisdom than man's babbling speech,
A deeper knowledge than his childish lore;
And even the crash of tempests and the roar
Of thunderings reverberating round
Prove more than unintelligible sound.
'But we perceive it not, because our ears
Are dulled by reason of our sin-bred fears,
Or that we know no language save our own.
How often have I heard the sad wind moan
Like one who mourneth in some house of death!
How often have I heard with holden breath
Great thunder voices pealing from on high
Rich with the awful secrets of the sky!
'Moreover, hitherto I may have lived
Too daintily, and so have not arrived
At what I seek for: whatsoe'er the cost
I will now test unto the uttermost
The harsh austerities that some profess.
Hereby I surely shall get good, unless
The world has err'd; for millions at this hour
Deem such austerities a mighty power.'
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