The Light of Asia | Page 2

his dream-readers?Augured a Prince of earthly dominance,?A Chakravartin, such as rise to rule?Once in each thousand years; seven gifts he has?The Chakra-ratna, disc divine; the gem;?The horse, the Aswa-ratna, that proud steed?Which tramps the clouds; a snow-white elephant,?The Hasti-ratna, born to bear his King;?The crafty Minister, the General?Unconquered, and the wife of peerless grace,?The Istri-ratna, lovelier than the Dawn.?For which gifts looking with this wondrous boy,?The King gave order that his town should keep?High festival; therefore the ways were swept,?Rose-odours sprinkled in the street, the trees?Were hung with lamps and flags, while merry crowds?Gaped on the sword-players and posturers,?The jugglers, charmers, swingers, rope-walkers,?The nautch-girls in their spangled skirts and bells?That chime light laughter round their restless feet;?The masquers wrapped in skins of bear and deer.?The tiger-tamers, wrestlers, quail-fighters,?Beaters of drum and twanglers of the wire,?Who made the people happy by command.?Moreover from afar came merchant-men,?Bringing, on tidings of this birth, rich gifts?In golden trays; goat-shawls, and nard and jade,?Turkises, "evening-sky" tint, woven webs--?So fine twelve folds hide not a modest face--?Waist-cloths sewn thick with pearls, and sandalwood;?Homage from tribute cities; so they called?Their Prince Svarthasiddh, "All-Prospering,"?Briefer, Siddartha.
'Mongst the strangers came?A grey-haired saint, Asita, one whose ears,?Long closed to earthly things, caught heavenly sounds,?And heard at prayer beneath his peepul-tree?The Devas singing songs at Buddha's birth.?Wondrous in lore he was by age and fasts;?Him, drawing nigh, seeming so reverend,?The King saluted, and Queen Maya made?To lay her babe before such holy feet;?But when he saw the Prince the old man cried?"Ah, Queen, not so!" and thereupon he touched?Eight times the dust, laid his waste visage there,?Saying, "O Babe! I worship! Thou art He!?I see the rosy light, the foot-sole marks,?The soft curled tendril of the Swastika,?The sacred primal signs thirty and two,?The eighty lesser tokens. Thou art Buddh,?And thou wilt preach the Law and save all flesh?Who learn the Law, though I shall never hear,?Dying too soon, who lately longed to die;?Howbeit I have seen Thee. Know, O King!?This is that Blossom on our human tree?Which opens once in many myriad years--?But opened, fills the world with Wisdom's scent?And Love's dropped honey; from thy royal root?A Heavenly Lotus springs: Ah, happy House!?Yet not all-happy, for a sword must pierce?Thy bowels for this boy--whilst thou, sweet Queen!?Dear to all gods and men for this great birth,?Henceforth art grown too sacred for more woe,?And life is woe, therefore in seven days?Painless thou shalt attain the close of pain."
Which fell: for on the seventh evening?Queen Maya smiling slept, and waked no more,?Passing content to Trayastrinshas-Heaven,?Where countless Devas worship her and wait?Attendant on that radiant Motherhead.?But for the Babe they found a foster-nurse,?Princess Mahaprajapati--her breast?Nourished with noble milk the lips of?Him Whose lips comfort the Worlds.
When th' eighth year passed?The careful King bethought to teach his son?All that a Prince should learn, for still he shunned?The too vast presage of those miracles,?The glories and the sufferings of a Buddh.?So, in full council of his Ministers,?"Who is the wisest man, great sirs," he asked,?"To teach my Prince that which a Prince should know?"?Whereto gave answer each with instant voice?"King! Viswamitra is the wisest one,?The farthest-seen in Scriptures, and the best?In learning, and the manual arts, and all."?Thus Viswamitra came and heard commands;?And, on a day found fortunate, the Prince?Took up his slate of ox-red sandal-wood,?All-beautified by gems around the rim,?And sprinkled smooth with dust of emery,?These took he, and his writing-stick, and stood?With eyes bent down before the Sage, who said,?"Child, write this Scripture, speaking slow the verse?'Gayatri' named, which only High-born hear:--
"Om, tatsaviturvarenyam?Bhargo devasya dhimahi?Dhiyo yo na prachodayat."
"Acharya, I write," meekly replied?The Prince, and quickly on the dust he drew--?Not in one script, but many characters?The sacred verse; Nagri and Dakshin, Ni,?Mangal, Parusha, Yava, Tirthi, Uk,?Darad, Sikhyani, Mana, Madhyachar,?The pictured writings and the speech of signs,?Tokens of cave-men and the sea-peoples,?Of those who worship snakes beneath the earth,?And those who flame adore and the sun's orb,?The Magians and the dwellers on the mounds;?Of all the nations all strange scripts he traced?One after other with his writing-stick.?Reading the master's verse in every tongue;?And Viswamitra said, "It is enough,?Let us to numbers.
"After me repeat?Your numeration till we reach the Lakh,?One, two, three, four, to ten, and then by tens?To hundreds, thousands." After him the child?Named digits, decads, centuries; nor paused,?The round Lakh reached, but softly murmured on?"Then comes the koti, nahut, ninnahut,?Khamba, viskhamba, abab, attata,?To kumuds, gundhikas, and utpalas,?By pundarikas unto padumas,?Which last is how you count the utmost grains?Of Hastagiri ground to finest dust;?But beyond that a numeration is,?The Katha, used to count the stars of night;?The Koti-Katha, for the ocean drops;?Ingga, the calculus of circulars;?Sarvanikchepa, by the which you deal?With all the sands of Gunga, till we come?To Antah-Kalpas, where the unit is?The sands of ten crore Gungas. If one seeks?More comprehensive scale, th' arithmic