war,
  Who never failed in danger or distress,
  Oppressed with fear, I come to you for aid.
  You know the prophecies, that from my house
  Shall come a king, or savior of the world.
  You saw strange signs precede Siddartha's birth,
  And saw the ancient sage whom no one knew
  Fall down before the prince, and hail my house.
  You heard him tell the queen she soon would die,
  And saw her sink in death as in sweet sleep;
  You laid her gently on her funeral pile,
  And heard my cry of anguish, when the sage
  Again appeared and bade me not to weep
  For her as dead who lived and loved me still.
  We saw the prince grow up to man's estate,
  So strong and full of manliness and grace,
  And wise beyond his teachers and his years,
  And thought in him the prophecies fulfilled,
  And that with glory he would rule the world
  And bless all men with universal peace.
  But now dark shadows fall athwart our hopes.
  Often in sleep the prince will start and cry
  As if in pain, 'O world, sad world, I come!'
  But roused, he'll sometimes sit the livelong day,
  Forgetting teachers, sports and even food,
  As if with dreadful visions overwhelmed,
  Or buried in great thoughts profound and deep.
  But yet to see our people, riding forth,
  To their acclaims he answers with such grace
  And gentle stateliness, my heart would swell
  As I would hear the people to each other say;
  'Who ever saw such grace and grandeur joined?'
  Yet while he answers gladness with like joy,
  His eyes seem searching for the sick and old,
  The poor, and maimed, and blind—all forms of grief,
  And oft he'd say, tears streaming from his eyes,[13]
  'Let us return; my heart can bear no more.'
  One day we saw beneath a peepul-tree
  An aged Brahman, wasted with long fasts,
  Loathsome with self-inflicted ghastly wounds,
  A rigid skeleton, standing erect,
  One hand stretched out, the other stretched aloft,
  His long white beard grown filthy by neglect.
  Whereat the prince with shuddering horror shook,
  And cried, 'O world! must I be such for thee?'
  And once he led the chase of a wild boar
  In the great forest near the glacier's foot;
  On Kantaka so fleet he soon outstripped
  The rest, and in the distance disappeared.
  But when at night they reached the rendezvous,
  Siddartha was not there; and through the night
  They searched, fearing to find their much loved prince
  A mangled corpse under some towering cliff,
  But searched in vain, and searched again next day,
  Till in despair they thought to bring me word
  The prince was lost, when Kantaka was seen
  Loose-reined and free, and near Siddartha sat
  Under a giant cedar's spreading shade.
  Absorbed in thought, in contemplation lost,
  Unconscious that a day and night had passed.
  I cannot reason with such earnestness—
  I dare not chide such deep and tender love,
  But much I fear his reason's overthrow
  Or that he may become like that recluse
  He shuddered at, and not a mighty king
  With power to crush the wrong and aid the right.
  How can we turn his mind from such sad thoughts
  To life's full joys, the duties of a king,
  And his great destiny so long foretold?"

  The oldest and the wisest answered him:
  "Most noble king, your thoughts have long been mine.
  Oft have I seen him lost in musings sad,
  And overwhelmed with this absorbing love.
  I know no cure for such corroding thoughts
  But thoughts less sad, for such absorbing love
  But stronger love."
                   "But how awake such thoughts?"
  The king replied. "How kindle such a love?
  His loves seem but as phosphorescent flames
  That skim the surface, leaving him heart-whole—
  All but this deep and all-embracing love
  That folds within its arms a suffering world."

  "Yes, noble king, so roams the antlered deer,
  Adding each year a branch to his great horns,
  Until the unseen archer lays him low.
  So lives our prince; but he may see the day
  Two laughing eyes shall pierce his inmost soul,
  And make his whole frame quiver with new fire.
  The next full moon he reaches man's estate.
  We all remember fifty years ago
  When you became a man, the sports and games,
  The contests of fair women and brave men,
  In beauty, arts and arms, that filled three days
  With joy and gladness, music, dance and song.
  Let us with double splendor now repeat
  That festival, with prizes that shall draw
  From all your kingdom and the neighbor states
  Their fairest women and their bravest men.
  If any chance shall bring his destined mate,
  You then shall see love dart from eye to eye,
  As darts the lightning's flash from cloud to cloud."
  And this seemed good, and so was ordered done.

  The king to all his kingdom couriers sent,
  And to the neighbor states, inviting all
  To a great festival and royal games
  The next full moon, day of Siddartha's birth,
  And offering varied prizes, rich and rare,
  To all in feats of strength and speed and skill,
  And prizes doubly rich and doubly rare
  To all such maidens fair as should compete
  In youth and beauty, whencesoe'er they came,
  The prince to be the judge and give the prize.

  Now all was joy and bustle in the streets,
  And joy and stir in palace and in park,
  The prince himself joining the joyful throng,
  Forgetting now the sorrows of the world.
  Devising and directing new delights
  Until the park became a fairy scene.

  Behind the palace lay a maidan wide
  For exercise in arms and manly sports,
  Its sides bordered by gently rising hills,
  Where at their ease the city's myriads sat
  Under the shade of high-pruned spreading trees,
  Fanned by cool breezes from the snow-capped peaks;
  While north, and next the lake, a stately dome
  Stood out, on slender, graceful columns raised,
  With seats, rank above rank, in order placed,
  The throne above, and near the throne were bowers
  Of slender lattice-work, with trailing vines,
  Thick set with flowers of every varied tint,
  Breathing perfumes, where beauty's champions
  Might sit, unseen of all yet seeing all.

  At length Siddartha's natal day arrives
  With joy to rich and poor, to old and young—-
  Not joy that wealth can buy or power command,
  But real joy, that springs from real love,
  Love to the good old king and noble prince.

  When dawning day tinges with rosy light
  The snow-capped peaks of Himalaya's chain,
  The people are astir. In social groups,
  The old and young, companions, neighbors, friends,
  Baskets well filled, they choose each vantage-ground,
  Until each hill a sea of faces shows,
  A sea of sparkling joy and rippling mirth.

  At trumpet-sound all eyes are eager turned
  Up toward the palace gates, now open wide,
  From whence a gay procession issues forth,
  A chorus of musicians coming first,
  And next the prince mounted on Kantaka;