From that time on it was like a continual festival for the city of Saketa. From the king down, every one was provided with garlands, perfumes, garments, and other gifts, so that each one felt himself the especial object of the treasurer’s hospitality.

Thus three months went by, but the parure was not yet finished.

Then came the masters of ceremonies, and announced to the treasurer:

“There is no lack of anything else, but the army has not sufficient wood to cook its meals.”

“Go, my dear sirs, take all the tumble-down elephant stables, and other buildings of the kind in the city, and all the dilapidated houses, and use them for cooking-fuel.”

This wood did the cooking for half a month, and thereupon they again announced to the treasurer:

“There is no wood.”

“At this time in the year one cannot go for wood. But open the store-houses where stuffs are kept, and make wicks of the coarse cloths, dip them in vessels of oil, and so cook your meals.”

They did so for half a month, and thus four months had gone by, and the parure was finished. There was no thread in this parure; silver was used instead. When this parure was on, it extended from head to foot. At the latter place were bunches of gold medals, and silver dies. On the crown of the head was a medal, at the top of the ears two, at the throat one, at the knees two, at the elbows two, and at the sides of the waist two.

Now a part of this parure consisted of a peacock, and there were five hundred feathers of red gold in the wing on the right side, and five hundred in the one on the left side. The beak was of coral, the eyes were of jewels, and likewise the neck and the tail-feathers. The midribs of the feathers were of silver, and likewise the shanks of the legs. When placed in position on Visakha’s head, it appeared like a peacock dancing on the summit of a mountain, and the sound which came from the thousand midribs rolled forth like the tones of celestial choruses and orchestras. And it was only when people had come quite close that they knew it was not a real peacock.

This parure was worth ninety millions, and a hundred thousand was spent on the workmanship. But what was the deed in a previous existence which caused her to obtain this parure— They say that in the time of Kassapa Buddha she gave cloth for robes to twenty thousand priests, also thread and needles and dyeing material, all her own property; and the parure was the result of this liberality. For the giving of robes by a woman attains its fruition in the great creeper parure; by a man, in the supernatural bowl and robes.

When the great treasurer had thus spent four months in getting ready his daughter’s trousseau, he began giving her the dowry. He gave five hundred carts full of money, five hundred carts full of gold dishes, five hundred full of silver dished, five hundred full of copper dishes, five hundred full of silk garments, five hundred full of clarified butter, five hundred full of husked rice, and five hundred full of plow-shares and other implements. They say the reason why he thus gave her all manner of implements was for fear that his daughter in her new home might need something, and be obliged to send to a neighbor’s for it. And he gave fifteen hundred waitingmaids whose duties were to bathe, feed, and dress her,—all of them handsome slaves, and richly dressed, and riding in five hundred chariots, three to each several chariot.

Then he determined to give his daughter some cattle, and gave orders to his men:

“Look you now! Go and open the door of my lesser cattle-fold, and post yourselves for a distance of three quarters of a league, and at every quarter-league have a drum. And let the space across from side to side be a hundred and forty cubits, and let not the cows transgress those limits. And as soon as you get them in position, sound your drums.”

They did so. When the cows passed out of the fold, and had gone a quarter-league, the men gave a signal with the drum, and again at the end of the second quarter-league, and again at the third quarter-league. And they hemmed them in at the sides. Thus, for a space of three-quarters of a league in length, and a hundred and forty cubits across, the cows stood so close that they chafed one another.

Then said the great treasurer, “That is enough cows for my daughter. Shut the door.” So they shut the door of the fold; but, notwithstanding the door was shut, such was the effect of Visakha’s merit that the vigorous bulls and the milch cows leaped up and got out. And in spite of all the men could do to prevent them, sixty thousand vigorous bulls and sixty thousand milch cows got out, and behind the milch cows followed vigorous bull calves.

What was the deed in a previous existence by reason of which the cattle thus got out— Because once she kept on giving, in spite of the efforts people made to stop her. As tradition has it, in the time of The Supreme Buddha Kassapa, she was the youngest of the seven daughters of king Kiki, and her name was Servant-of-the-Congregation. And as she was once giving the five products of the cow in alms to twenty thousand priests, the yound priests and the novices cried, “Enough, enough!” and closed their hands up tight. But, notwithstanding their efforts to prevent her, she kept on giving, saying, “Here is a sweet bit; here is a dainty morsel.” This was the reason the cattle kept on coming out, notwithstanding the efforts made to prevent them.

When the treasurer had got thus far in his giving, his wife said to him,

“You have assigned goods to my daughter, but no male and female vassals to do her bidding. Why is this—”

“Because I want to find out who are fond of her, and who are not. Of course, I shall vassals with her to do her bidding. When she comes to mount her chariot to depart, I shall make proclamation: ‘Let all who wish to go with my daughter, do so; and let all others stay at home.”’

Now the day before she was to depart, the treasurer sat in his room and had his daughter sit by him, and he admonished her, telling her what rules of conduct she should adopt when she came to dwell in her husband’s family. And it happened that Migara the treasurer was seated in the next room, and overheard the admonition of Dhanañjaya the treasurer, which was as follows:

“My child, as long as you dwell in your father-in-law’s family, the in-door fire is not to be taken out of doors; out-door fire is not to be brought within doors; give only to him who gives; give not to him who does not give; give both to him who gives, and to him who does not give; sit happily; eat happily; sleep happily; wait upon the fire; and reverence the household divinities.” This was the tenfold admonition.

On the next day he assembled the different guilds of artisans, and in the presence of the royal army he appointed eight householders to be sponsors for his daughter, saying, “You are to try any charge of sin that may be brought against my daughter in her new home.”Next he had his daughter put on her great creeper parure that was worth ninety millions, and gave her besides five hundred and forty millions with which to buy aromatic powders for her bath. And causing her to mount a chariot, he took her about in the neighborhood of Saketa as far as to Anuradhapura, through fourteen villages that were subject to him; and as he went through one after another, he caused proclamation to be made: “Let all who wish to go with my daughter, go.” On hearing the proclamation all the inhabitants of the fourteen villages, without exception, issued forth, saying, “When our mistress is on the point of leaving, why stay we here—” Then Dhanañjaya the treasurer, full of polite attentions to the king and Migara the treasurer, accompanied them a short distance on their way; and having intrusted his daughter into their hands, he there took leave of them.

And Migara the treasurer rode in a conveyance behind the others, and beholding a great crowd of people following, he asked,

“Pray, who are these—”

“They are male and female vassals to do the bidding of your daughter-in-law.”

“Who could ever feed so many— Beat and drive them away and keep only those who do not run.”

“Hold!” cried Visakha; “do not drive them away! The one army can feed the other.”

But the treasurer persisted, saying, “My dear girl, we have no use for them. Who is there to feed them—” And he caused his men to fling clods of earth at them, and to beat them with sticks, and all those who did not run he took with him, saying, “These are a plenty.”

When Visakha approached the gate of the city of Savatthi, she began to reflect, “Shall I enter seated in a covered conveyance, or standing erect in a chariot—” Then she thought, “If I am in a covered conveyance when I enter, no one will see the elegance of my great creeper parure.” So she entered the city standing in her chariot, and showing herself to the whole town. And when the inhabitants of Savatthi beheld the magnificence of Visakha, they said, “This, then, is Visakha. Truly, her magnificence becomes her well!” And thus it was in great pomp she entered the treasurer’s house.

Then all the inhabitants of the city sent gifts to her, according to their power, and according to their ability; for they thought, “Dhanañjaya the treasurer was exceedingly hospitable to us when we went to his city.” But Visakha took all the gifts that were sent her, and distributed them to the different families everywhere throughout the city. And in sending, she accompanied each gift with an affectionate message: “This is for my mother, this for my father, this for my brother, and this for my sister;” thus treating each one according to age, and making, as it were, all the inhabitants of the city her relatives.

Now towards the end of the night, her thoroughbred mare gave birth to a foal. And Visakha, accompanied by her female slaves bearing torches, went to the stable, and superintended while they washed the mare with warm water, and anointed her with oil. Then she returned to her own quarters.

Now Migara the treasurer had for a long time been favorably disposed to the sect of naked ascetics. And urged by this feeling, though The Buddha was dwelling in a neighboring monastery, he neglected him in the festivities of his son’s wedding, but determined to do the naked ascetics an honor. So, on a certain day, he had some rice porridge cooked in several hundred new dishes, and extended an invitation to five hundred of the unclothed. And when he had got them all into his house he sent a message to Visakha, saying, “Let my daughter-in-law come and do reverence to the saints.”

When Visakha heard the word “saints” she was greatly delighted, for she had been converted, and was a noble disciple. But when she came to the place where they were eating, and beheld them, she was angry with the treasurer, and returned to her own quarters, saying reproachfully, “These persons so devoid of shame and fear of sinning cannot be saints. Why did my father-in-law have me summoned—”

“Why, O householder, did you not find some one else for a daughter-in-law— You have introduced into your house an arrant misfortune-breeder, a disciple of the monk Gotama. Make haste and have her expelled from the house.”

“It is out of the question,” thought the treasurer, “for me to expel her just because these men tell me to do so. She is from too powerful a family.” And he dismissed them, saying,

“Your reverences, young people sometimes act without knowing what they are about. Hold your peace!”

Then he sat down on a costly seat, and began to eat the sweet rice porridge from a golden bowl. At that moment a [Buddhist] elder on his begging rounds entered the house. Visakha was standing fanning her father-in-law, and saw him. And thinking, “It would not be fitting for me to announce him to my father-in-law,” she moved off in such a way as to call his attention to the elder. But the foolish, unconverted man, although he saw the elder, made as if he did not see him, and with head bent down, he kept on eating.

“Pass on, reverend sir,” said Visakha, when she perceived that her father-in-law made no sign, notwithstanding he had seen the elder; “my father-in-law is eating stale fare.”

The treasurer, although he had borne with the talk of the naked ascetics, the moment she said, “He is eating stale fare,” removed his hand from his bowl, and exclaimed,

“Take away this rice porridge, and turn the girl out of the house! To think that she should accuse me, and in a time of festivity, too, of eating anything unclean!”

But all the slaves and servants in the house belonged to Visakha. Who was there to seize her by hand or foot— There was not one who dared so much as open his mouth.

“Father,” said Visakha, after listening to him; ‘I’ll not leave so easily as you seem to think. I am not a common prostitute, picked up at some river bathing-place; and daughters whose parents are still living are not turned out so easily. Now my father has provided for this very case. When I was starting to come hither, he summoned eight householders, and put me in their charge, saying, ‘If any charge of sin be made against my daughter, investigate it.’ Have these men summoned, and establish my guilt or innocence.”

“She speaks well,” said the treasurer, and had the eight householders summoned.

Said he: “This young girl, when I was seated, in a time of festivity, eating rice porridge from a golden bowl, said I was eating what was unclean. Find her guilty and turn her out.”

“Dear girl, is it so, as he says—”

“That is not as Isay:—but when a certain elder on his beggingrounds came and stood in the door-way, my father-in-law, who was eating sweet rice porridge, paid to attention to him. Then I thought: ‘My father-in-law is not acquiring any merit in this existence, but is consuming old, stale merit.’ So I said: ‘Pass on, reverend sir; my father-in-law is eating stale fare.’ Now, what fault is there here of mine—”

“There is none. Our daughter speaks justly. Why are you angry with her—”

“Sirs, granted that this is no fault: but one night in the middle watch, she went out behind the house, accompanied by her male and female slaves.”

“Dear girl, is it so, as he says—”

“Good sirs, I went for no other reason but that I thought when a thoroughbred mare was bringing forth in this very house, it would not do to sit still and make no sign. So I had my slave-girls take torches, and went and caused the mare to receive the attentions suitable for a time of foaling.”

“Sir, our daughter does in your house work that is unfit even for slave-girls. What fault can you discover here—”

“Sirs, granted that here also there is no fault. Her father, however, was admonishing her at the time she was starting to come hither, and gave her ten admonitions of a deeply hidden meaning; and I do not understand them. Let her tell me their meaning. For instance, her father said, ‘The in-door fire is not to be taken out of doors.’ Is it possible, pray, for us to get on with our neighbors, without ever sending fire to their households—”

“Is it so, as he says, dear girl—”

“Good sirs, my father did not mean that by what he said; but this is what he meant: ‘Dear girl, if you notice any fault in your mother-in-law, or your father-in-law, or your husband, do not tell of it outside in some one else’s house. There is no worse fire than this.”

“Sirs, so be it: but her father said: ‘Out-door fire is not to be brought within doors.’ Would it be possible, if our in-door fire were to go out, for us not to fetch fire from outside—”

“Is it so, as he says, dear girl—”

“Good sirs, my father did not mean that by what he said; but this is what he meant: ‘If any of your neighbors, whether male or female, speak ill of your father-in-law, or of your husband, do not bring their talk home, and repeat it saying. “So and so has this or that to say of you.” For there is no fire comparable to this fire.”’

Thus, in this point also she was guiltless. And as in this case, so also in the others; and the following is their purport:—

“When her father said to her: ‘Give only to him who gives,’ he meant, ‘Give only to those who give borrowed articles back again.’”

And “Give not to him who does not give,” meant, “Give not to those who do not give back again what they borrow.”

“Give both to him who gives, and to him who does not give,” meant, “When your needy relatives and friends come to you, you should give to them, whether they are able to repay you or not.”

“Sit happily,” meant, “When you see your mother-in-law, or your father-in-law, or your husband, you should rise, and not keep your seat.”

“Eat happily,” meant, “You should not eat before your mother-in-law, or your father-in-law, or your husband. You must eat after you have waited on them, and they have been helped to everything they wish.”

“Sleep happily,” meant, “Do not ascend your couch to lie down to sleep before your mother-in-law, or your father-in-law, or your husband; but when you have done for them all the different services which should be done, you can afterwards yourself lie down to sleep.”

“Wait upon the fire,” meant, “You should look upon your mother-in-law, your father-in-law, and your husband, as if they were a flame of fire, or a royal serpent.”

“Reverence the household divinities,” meant, “You should look upon your mother-in-law, your father-in-law, and your husband, as your divinities.”

When thus the treasurer had heard the meaning of the ten admonitions, he was unable to find any reply, and sat with downcast eyes. The householders then said to him,

“Treasurer, is there any other sin in our daughter—”

“Sirs, there is none.”

“Then, if she is guiltless, why did you attempt without cause to turn her out of doors—”

“Good sirs,” said Visakha, at this point in the discussion, “although at first it was not fitting that I should leave at the command of my father-in-law, yet now that you whom my father appointed to try charges which might be brought against me, have found me guiltless, it is a good time to go.”

So saying, she gave orders to her male and female slaves to get ready the carriages and make the other necessary preparations.

“Dear girl, I spoke in ignorance; pardon me,” said then the treasurer, speaking half to the householders.

“Good sir, I do pardon you all there is to pardon. I am, however, daughter in a family that has studied and has faith in the religion of The Buddha, and to see something of the congregation of the priests is necessary to us. If I can be allowed to wait on the congregation of the priests at my pleasure, I will stay.”

“Dear girl, wait on your monks as much as you please,” was the reply.

Visakha, accordingly, sent an invitation to The One Possessing the Ten Forces, and on the next day received him at her house. And the naked monks, when they heard that The Teacher had gone to the house of Migara the treasurer, went also, and sat down outside the house encompassing it. Visakha, having given the water of donation, sent a message to her father-in-law:

“All the arrangements for the entertainment are ready. Let my father-in-law come and wait on The One Possessing the Ten Forces.”

But as he was about to go, the naked ascetics restrained him, saying,

“O householder, go not near the monk Gotama.”

So he sent back word: “Let my daughter-in-law wait on him herself.”

When she had waited on The Buddha and on the congregation of the priests that followed him, and the meal was now at an end, she again sent a message:

“Let my father-in-law come and hear the sermon.”

“If I were not to go now, it would not do at all,” said then the treasurer; for he was very desirous of hearing the Doctrine.

“Well, then,” said the naked monks, when they saw he was bent on going, “you may listen to the Doctrine of the monk Gotama, if you will sit outside of a curtain.” Then they went ahead of him, and drew a curtain around, and he went and sat down outside of the curtain.

But The Teacher thought, “Sit outside of a curtain, if you will, or beyond a wall, or beyond a mountain, or at the end of the world. I am The Buddha, and can make you hear my voice.” And marching as it were with a mighty Jambu trunk held aloft, and showering down as it were showers of ambrosia, he began to teach the Doctrine in consecutive discourse.

Now when a Supreme Buddha teaches the Doctrine, those in front, and those behind, and those beyond a hundred or a thousand worlds, and those, even, who inhabit the abode of the Sublime Gods, exclaim: “The Teacher is looking at me; The Teacher is teaching the Doctrine to me.” To each one it seems as if The Teacher were beholding and addressing him alone. The Buddhas, they say, resemble the moon: as the moon in the midst of the heavens appears to every living being as if over his head, so The Buddhas appear to every one as if standing in front of him. This gift is said to be their reward for liberality in previous existences, when, for the benefit of others, they cut off their own garlanded heads, gouged out their own eyes, tore out their own hearts, and gave away to be slaves sons such as Jali, daughters such as Kanhajina, and wives such as Maddi.

And Migara the treasurer, as he sat outside the curtain, and turned over and over in his mind the teaching of The Tathagata, became established in the thousandfold ornamented fruit of conversion, and acquired an immovable and unquestioning faith in the three refuges. Then, raising the curtain, he approached his daughter-in-law, and taking her breast in his hand, he said: “From this day forth you are my mother,” thus giving her the position of mother. And henceforth she was known as “Migara’s mother”; and when, later on, she had a son, she named him Migara.

The great treasurer then let go his daughter-in-law’s breast, and went and fell at the feet of The Blessed One, and stroking them with his hands, and kissing them with his lips, he three times proclaimed his own name, “Reverend Sir, I am Migara.”

“Reverend Sir,” continued he, “all this time have I been without knowing that on you should one bestow alms to obtain great reward. But now I have learnt it, thanks to my daughter-in-law, and am released from all danger of being reborn in a lower state of existence. Truly, it was for my advantage and for my welfare that my daughter-in-law came to my house.” So saying, he pronounced the following stanza:

“Now have I learnt where rich reward

Will surely follow every gift!

Truly a happy day for me,

When first my daughter sought my home!”

Visakha invited The Teacher again for the next day on her own account, and on the day after her mother-in-law also attained to the fruit of conversion. And henceforth that house kept open doors for the religion of The Buddha.

Then thought the treasurer, “My daughter-in-law is a great benefactress to me; I must make her a present. And, truly, her present parure is too heavy for every-day wear. I will have a very light one made, which she can wear both by day and by night in all the four postures.”

And he had made what is called a highly polished parure, worth a thousand pieces of money: and when it was finished, he invited The Buddha, and the congregation of the priests, and assiduously waited on them at breakfast. And causing Visakha to bathe herself with sixteen pitcherfuls of perfumed water, he placed her in front of The Teacher, and putting her parure upon her, he had her do obeisance. Then The Teacher, after giving thanks for the repast, returned to the monastery.

And Visakha continued to give alms, and do other deeds of merit, and she received the eight boons from The Teacher. And as the crescent of the moon waxes great in the sky, so did she increase in sons and daughters. They say she had ten sons and ten daughters, and of these each had ten sons and ten daughters, and of these also each had ten sons and ten daughters. Thus the children and children’s children which had sprung from her numbered eight thousand and four hundred and twenty persons.

She lived to be a hundred and twenty years old, but there was not a single gray hair on her head,—always she appeared as if about sixteen. When people saw her on her way to the monastery, surrounded by her children and children’s children, there were always those who inquired: “Which of these is Visakha—” Those who saw her as she walked would think: “I hope she will walk a little further; our lady looks well when she walks.” And those who saw her stand, or sit, or lie, would think: “I hope she will lie a little longer now; our lady looks well when she is lying down.” Thus in respect of the four postures, it could not be charged against her that there was any one posture in which she did not look well.

Moreover, she was as strong as five elephants. And the king, hearing that Visakha was currently reported to be as strong as five elephants, was desirous of testing her strength; and one day, as she was on her way back from the monastery where she had been to hear a sermon, he let loose an elephant against her. The elephant, lifting his trunk, came on to meet Visakha. Of her five hundred attendant women, some fled away, while others threw their arms about her. And when she asked what the matter was, they replied: “They say the king is desirous of testing your iron strength, and has let loose an elephant against you.” When Visakha saw the elephant, she thought, “What is the need of my running away— It is only a question how I shall take hold of him.” And, being afraid that if she seized him roughly it might kill him, she took hold of his trunk with two fingers, and pressed him back. The elephant was unable either to resist or to keep his feet, and fell back on his haunches in the royal court. Thereupon the crowd shouted “Bravo!” and she and her attendants reached home in safety.

Now at that time Visakha, Migara’s mother, lived at Savatthi, and had many children and many children’s children, and the children were free from disease, and the children’s children were free from disease, and she was considered to bring good luck. Among her thousands of children and children’s children not one had died. And when the inhabitants of Savatthi had their festivals and holidays, Visakha was always the first to be invited, and the first to be feasted.

Now on a certain day of merry-making, the populace were going in their fine clothes and ornaments to the monastery to listen to the Doctrine. And Visakha, having come from a place of entertainment, and wearing the great creeper parure, was likewise proceeding with the populace to the monastery. There she took off her ornaments, and gave them to her slave-girl. Concerning which it is said,

“Now at that time there was a merry-making at Savatthi; and the people in gorgeous array went to the park. Visakha, also, Migara’s mother, in gorgeous array went to the monastery. Then Visakha, Migara’s mother, took off her ornaments, and tying them up in a bundle in her cloak, gave them to her slave-girl, saying, ‘Here, take this bundle.’”

It would appear that she thought it not seemly to enter the monastery wearing such an extremely costly and showy parure,—a decoration which, when put on, adorned her from head to foot. Thus it was that, as she was proceeding to the monastery, she took it off, and made of it a bundle, and gave it to a slave-girl, who had been born with the strength of five elephants as the result of former good deeds, and hence was able to carry it. Thus her mistress could say to her, “Dear girl, take this parure. I will put it on when I return from The Teacher.”

Having put on her highly polished parure, she drew near The Teacher, and listened to the Doctrine. And at the close of the sermon she rose, did obeisance to The Blessed One, and went forth from his presence. The slave-girl, however, forgot the parure. Now it was the custom of Ananda the elder, when the assembly had listened to the Doctrine, and had departed, to put away anything that had been forgotten. And so this day he noticed the great creeper parure, and announced to The Teacher,

“Reverend Sir, Visakha has gone forgetting her parure.”

“Lay it aside, Ananda.”

The elder lifted it up, and hung it on the side of the staircase.

And Visakha, in company with her friend Suppiya, wandered about the monastery to see what could be done for the in-coming, for the out-going, for the sick, and others. Now it was the custom of the young priests and novices, when they saw the devout ladies bringing clarified butter, honey, oil, and other medicaments, to draw near with basins of various kinds. And on that day also they did so.

Thereupon Suppiya saw a certain sick priest, and asked him,

“Sir, of what do you stand in need—”

“Meat broth,” was the reply.

“Very well, sir; I will send you some.

But as she failed on the next day to obtain any suitable meat, she made the preparation with flesh from her own thigh; and afterwards by the favor of The Teacher her body was made whole.

When Visakha had attended to the sick and to the young priests, she issued forth from the monastery. But before she had gone far, she stopped and said,

“Dear girl, bring me the parure; I will put it on.”

Instantly the slave-girl remembered that she had forgotten it, and had left it behind. And she said,

“Mistress, I forgot it.”

“Go, then, and get it, and bring it hither. But if my master, Ananda the elder, has taken it up and laid it away anywhere, then do not fetch it. It is a present to my master.” It appears she knew that the elder was in the habit of putting away valuables which highborn personages had forgotten; and this was why she spoke as she did.

When the elder saw the slave-girl, he said to her,

“Why have you returned—”

“I went away forgetting my mistress’s parure,” said she.

“I have put it by the staircase,” said the elder; “go and get it.”

“My lord,” said the slave-girl, “an article which has been touched by your hand is not to be reclaimed by my mistress.” And so she returned empty-handed.

“How was it, dear girl—” said Visakha. And she told her.

“Dear girl, never will I wear an article which my master has touched. I make him a present of it. Nevertheless, it would be troublesome for my masters to take care of it. I will sell it, and give them things which are more suitable. Go fetch it.”

And the slave-girl went and fetched it.

Visakha did not put it on, but sent for some goldsmiths and had it appraised.

“It is worth ninety millions,” said they; “and the workmanship is worth a hundred thousand.”

“Then put the parure in a wagon,” said Visakha, “and sell it.”

“There is no one who is able to take it at such a price, and a woman worthy to wear such a parure is difficult to find. For in all the circuit of the earth only three women have the great creeper parure: Visakha, the great female lay disciple; the wife of Bandhula, the general of the Mallas; and Mallika, daughter of a treasurer of Benares.”

So Visakha paid the price herself; and, putting ninety millions and a hundred thousand into a cart, she took the amount to the monastery.

“Reverend Sir,” said she, when she had made her obeisance to The Teacher, “my master, Ananda the elder, has touched with his hand my parure, and from the time he has touched it, it is impossible for me to wear it again. I have endeavored to sell it, thinking that with the amount I should get for it, I would give things suitable for priests. But when I saw there was no one else able to buy it, I made up the price myself, and have now brought the money with me. Reverend Sir, which one of the four reliances shall I give—”

“Visakha, a dwelling-place at the east gate for the congregation of the priests would be fitting.”

“The very thing, Reverend Sir!”

And Visakha, with a joyous mind, bought a site for ninety millions, and with another ninety millions she began constructing a monastery.

Now one day, as The Teacher at dawn was gazing over the world, he perceived that a son, Bhaddiya, had been born from heaven into the family of a treasurer of the city of Bhaddiya, and was competent to attain to salvation. And after taking breakfast at the house of Anathapindika, he directed his steps towards the north gate of the city. Now it was the custom of The Teacher, if he took alms at the house of Visakha, to issue forth from the city by the south gate and lodge at Jetavana monastery. If he took alms at the house of Anathapindika, he would issue forth by the east gate, and lodge in Eastern Park; but if The Blessed One was perceived at sunrise making his way to the north gate, then people knew that he was setting out on his travels.

So when Visakha heard on that day that he had gone in the direction of the north gate, she hastened to him, and making an obeisance, said,

“Reverend Sir, are you desirous of going traveling—”

“Yes, Visakha,”

“Reverend Sir, at this vast expense am I having a monastery built for you. Reverend Sir, turn back.”

“Visakha, this journey admits not of my turning back.”

“Assuredly,” thought Visakha, “The Blessed One has some special reason in all this.” Then she said, “Reverend Sir, in that case, before you go, command some priest to stay behind who will know how the work should be done.”

“Visakha, take the bowl of any one you wish.”

Then Visakha, though fond of Ananda, thought of the magical power of the elder, Moggallana the Great, and how swiftly the work would progress with him to assist, and took his bowl.

The elder then looked at The Teacher.

“Moggallana,” said The Teacher, “take five hundred priests in your train and turn back.”

And he did so: and by his supernatural power they would go a distance of fifty or sixty leagues for logs and stones; and having secured logs and stones of tremendous size, they would bring them home on the same day. And they who placed the logs and stones on the carts were not exhausted, nor did the axles break. And in no long time they had erected a two-story building on high foundations and approached by steps. The building contained a thousand apartments,—five hundred apartments being in the lower story, and the same number in the upper.

After traveling about for nine months, The Teacher came again to Savatthi; and in these nine months Visakha had put up her building, and was now at work on the peak, which was intended to hold the water-pots, and was finished in solid, beaten, red gold.

And Visakha, hearing that The Teacher was proceeding towards Jetavana monastery, went to meet him; and, conducting him to her monastery, she exacted of him a promise:

“Reverend Sir, dwell here for four months with the congregation of the priests, and I will have the building completed.”

The Teacher consented; and thenceforth she gave alms to The Buddha, and to the congregation of the priests in the monastery.

And it came to pass that a certain female friend of Visakha came to her with a piece of stuff that was worth a thousand pieces of money.

“Dear friend,” said she, “I want to replace some of the floor covering in your pavilion, and spread this instead. Tell me a place in which to spread it.”

“Dear friend, if I were to tell you there was no place left, you would think, ‘She does not want to let me have a place.’ But look through the two floors of the pavilion and the thousand apartments yourself, and find a place in which to spread it.”

Then the other took the piece of stuff worth a thousand pieces of money, and went through the building; but finding no stuff there of less value than hers, she was overcome with grief; for she thought: “I shall have no share in the merit of this building.” And stopping still, she wept.

And Ananda the elder happened to see her, and said, “Why do you weep—” And she told him the matter.

“Let not that trouble you,” said the elder; “I will tell you a place in which to spread it. Make a door-mat of it, and spread it between the place for washing the feet and the staircase. The priests, after washing their feet, will wipe them upon the mat before they enter the building: thus will your reward be great.” This spot, it appears, had been overlooked by Visakha.

For four months did Visakha give alms in her monastery to The Buddha and to the congregation which followed him; and at the end of that time she presented the congregation of the priests with stuff for robes, and even that received by the novices was worth a thousand pieces of money. And of medicines, she gave the fill of every man’s bowl. Ninety millions were spent in this donation. Thus ninety millions went for the site of the monastery, ninety for the construction of the monastery, and ninety for the festival at the opening of the monastery, making two hundred and seventy millions in all that were expended by her on the religion of The Buddha. No other woman in the world was as liberal as this one who lived in the house of a heretic.

On the day the monastery was completed, when the shadows of eventide were lengthening, she walked with her children and her children’s children round and round the building, delighted with the thought that her prayer of a former existence had now attained its complete fruition. And with a sweet voice, in five stanzas, she breathed forth this solemn utterance:—

“‘O when shall I a mansion give,

Plastered with mud and stuccoed o’er,

A pleasing monastery-gift—’—

O this my prayer is now fulfilled!

“‘O when shall I give household goods,

Benches and stools to sit upon,

And bolsters, pillows for the couch—’—

O this my prayer is now fulfilled!

“‘O when shall I provisions give,

The ticket-food so pure and good,

Smothered in broths of various meats—’—

O this my prayer is now fulfilled!

“‘O when shall I give priestly robes,

Garments of fine Benares cloth,

And linen, cotton goods as well—’—

O this my prayer is now fulfilled!

“‘O when shall I give medicines,

Fresh butter, butter clarified,

And honey, treacle, purest oil—’—

O this my prayer is now fulfilled!”

When the priests heard her, they brought word to The Teacher:

“Reverend Sir, in all this time we have never known Visakha to sing; but now, surrounded by her children and her children’s children, she walks singing round and round the building. Pray, is her bile out of order— or has she become mad—”

“Priests,” said The Teacher, “my daughter is not singing; but the desire of her heart having come to pass, in her delight she breathes forth a solemn utterance.”

“But when was it, Reverend Sir, she made the prayer—”

“Priests, will you listen—”

“Reverend Sir, we will.”

Whereupon he related a tale of ancient times—

“Priests, a hundred thousand cycles ago, a Buddha was born into the world by the name of Padumuttara. His term of life was a hundred thousand years; his retinue of those in whom depravity had become extinct was a hundred thousand; his city was Hamsavati; his father, king Sunanda; and his mother, queen Sujata. The chief benefactress of this Teacher, a lay devotee, had obtained the eight boons and held the position of mother, and used to provide him with the four reliances. Every evening and morning she used to wait on him at the monastery, and a certain female friend constantly accompanied her.

“When this friend saw on what intimate terms she conversed with The Teacher, and how much she was beloved, she began to consider: ‘What do people do to be beloved by The Buddhas—’ And she said to The Teacher:

“‘Reverend Sir, what is this woman to you—’

“‘She is the chief of my benefactresses.’

“‘Reverend Sir, by what means does one thus become chief benefactress—’

“‘By praying for a hundred thousand world-cycles to become one.’

“‘Reverend Sir, could I become one, if I now made my prayer—’

“‘Assuredly, you could.’

“‘In that case, Reverend Sir, come with your hundred thousand priests and take alms of me for seven days.’

“The Teacher consented; and for seven days she gave alms of food, and on the last day stuff for robes. Then she did obeisance to The Teacher, and, falling at his feet, made her prayer:

“‘Reverend Sir, I do not pray for rule among the gods, or any other such reward as the fruit of this alms-giving; but that from some Buddha like yourself I may obtain the eight boons, and have the position of mother, and be chief of those able to provide the four reliances.’

“The Teacher looked into the future for a hundred thousand cycles to see if her prayer would be fulfilled, and said:

“‘At the end of a hundred thousand cycles a Buddha named Gotama shall arise, and you shall be a female lay disciple of his, and have the name Visakha. From him you shall obtain the eight boons, and obtain the position of mother, and become chief of the benefactresses who shall provide the four reliances.’

“… and after a life of meritorious deeds, she was reborn in the world of the gods. And continuing to be reborn in the world of the gods and the world of men, she was born in the time of The Supreme Buddha Kassapa as the youngest of the seven daughters of Kiki, king of Benares. In this existence she was called Servant-of-the-Congregation; and having married, and with her sisters for a long time given alms and done other meritorious deeds, she fell at the feet of The Supreme Buddha Kassapa, and prayed: ‘At a future time may I hold the position of mother to a Buddha such as you, and become chief of the female givers of the four reliances.’ Now, after further rebirths in the world of the gods and the world of men, she has been born in this existence as the daughter of Dhananajaya the treasurer, the son of Mendaka the treasurer, and has done many meritorious deeds for my religion. Thus it is, O priests, that I say my daughter is not singing, but that, at the realization of her prayer, she breathes forth a solemn utterance.”

And The Teacher continued his instruction, and said,

“Priests, just as a skilful garland-maker, if he obtain a large heap of various kinds of flowers, will go on and on making all manner of garlands, even so does the mind of Visakha incline to do all manner of noble deeds.” So saying, he pronounced this stanza:

“As flowers in rich profusion piled

Will many a garland furnish forth;

So all the years of mortal man

Should fruitful be in all good works.”

The Bhagavad-Gita

Introductory Note

DURING the centuries in which Buddhism was establishing itself in the east of India, the older Brahmanism in the west was undergoing the changes which resulted in the Hinduism which is now the prevailing religion of India. The main ancient sources of information with regard to these Hindu beliefs and practises are the two great epics, the “Ramayana” and the Maha Bharata. The former is a highly artificial production based on legend and ascribed to one man, Valmiki. The latter, a “huge conglomeration of stirring adventure, legend, myth, history, and superstition,” is a composite production, begun probably as early as the fourth or fifth century before Christ, and completed by the end of the sixth century of our era. It represents many strata of religious belief.

The “Bhagavad-Gîtâ,” of which a translation is here given, occurs as an episode in the Maha-Bharata, and is regarded as one of the gems of Hindu literature. The poem is a dialogue between Prince Arjuna, the brother of King Yudhisthira, and Vishnu, the Supreme God, incarnated as Krishna, and wearing the disguise of a charioteer. The conversation takes place in a war-chariot, stationed between the armies of the Kauravas and Pandavas, who are about to engage in battle.

To the Western reader much of the discussion seems childish and illogical; but these elements are mingled with passages of undeniable sublimity. Many of the more puzzling inconsistencies are due to interpolations by later re-writers. “It is,” says Hopkins, “a medley of beliefs as to the relation of spirit and matter, and other secondary matters; it is uncertain in its tone in regard to the comparative efficacy of action and inaction, and in regard to the practical man’s means of salvation; but it is at one with itself in its fundamental thesis, that all things are each a part of one Lord, that men and gods are but manifestations of the One Divine Spirit.”

Chapter I

DHRITIRASHTRA:

RANGED thus for battle on the sacred plain—

On Kurukshetra—say, Sanjaya! say

What wrought my people, and the Pandavas—

SANJAYA:

When he beheld the host of Pandavas

Raja Duryôdhana to Drona drew,

And spake these words: “Ah, Guru! see this line,

How vast it is of Pandu fighting-men,

Embattled by the son of Drupada,

Thy scholar in the war! Therein stand ranked

Chiefs like Arjuna, like to Bhîma chiefs,

Benders of bows; Virâta, Yuyudhân,

Drupada, eminent upon his car,

Dhrishtaket, Chekitân, Kasi’s stout lord,

Purujit, Kuntibhôj, and Saivya,

With Yudhâmanyu, and Uttamauj

Subhadra’s child; and Drupadi’s;—all famed!

All mounted on their shining chariots!

On our side, too,—thou best of Brahmans! see

Excellent chiefs, commanders of my line,

Whose names I joy to count: thyself the first,

Then Bhishma, Karna, Kripa fierce in fight,

Vikarna, Aswatthâman; next to these

Strong Saumadatti, with full many more

Valiant and tried, ready this day to die

For me their king, each with his weapon grasped,

Each skilful in the field. Weakest—meseems—

Our battle shows where Bhishma holds command,

And Bhima, fronting him, something too strong!

Have care our captains nigh to Bhishma’s ranks

Prepare what help they may! Now, blow my shell!”

Then, at the signal of the aged king,

With blare to wake the blood, rolling around

Like to a lion’s roar, the trumpeter

Blew the great Conch; and, at the noise of it,

Trumpets and drums, cymbals and gongs and horns

Burst into sudden clamor; as the blasts

Of loosened tempest, such the tumult seemed!

Then might be seen, upon their car of gold

Yoked with white steeds, blowing their battle-shells,

Krishna the God, Arjuna at his side:

Krishna, with knotted locks, blew his great conch

Carved of the “Gaint’s bone;” Arjuna blew

Indra’s loud gift; Bhima the terrible—

Wolf-bellied Bhima—blew a long reed-conch;

And Yudhisthira, Kunti’s blameless son,

Winded a mighty shell, “Victory’s Voice;”

And Nakula blew shrill upon his conch

Named the “Sweet-sounding,” Sahadev on his

Called “Gem-bedecked,” and Kasi’s Prince on his.

Sikhandi on his car, Dhrishtadyumn,

Virâta, Sâtyaki the Unsubdued,

Drupada, with his sons, (O Lord of Earth!)

Long-armed Subhadra’s children, all blew loud

So that the clangor shook their foemen’s hearts,

With quaking earth and thundering heav’n.

Then ’twas—

Beholding Dhritirashtra’s battle set,

Weapons unsheathing, bows drawn forth, the war

Instant to break—Arjun, whose ensign-badge

Was Hanuman the monkey, spake this thing

To Krishna the Divine, his charioteer:

“Drive, Dauntless One! to yonder open ground

Betwixt the armies; I would see more nigh

These who will fight with us, those we must slay

To-day, in war’s arbitrament; for, sure,

On bloodshed all are bent who throng this plain,

Obeying Dhritirashtra’s sinful son.”

Thus, by Arjuna prayed (O Bharata!)

Between the hosts that heavenly Charioteer

Drove the bright car, reining its milk-white steeds

Where Bhishma led, and Drona, and their Lords.

“See!” spake he to Arjuna, “where they stand,

Thy kindred of the Kurus:” and the Prince

Marked on each hand the kinsmen of his house,

Grandsires and sires, uncles and brothers and sons,

Cousins and sons-in-law and nephews, mixed

With friends and honored elders; some this side,

Some that side ranged: and, seeing those opposed,

Such kith grown enemies—Arjuna’s heart

Melted with pity, while he uttered this:

ARJUNA:

Krishna! as I behold, come here to shed

Their common blood, yon concourse of our kin,

My members fail, my tongue dries in my mouth,

A shudder thrills my body, and my hair

Bristles with horror; from my weak hand slips

Gandîv, the goodly bow; a fever burns

My skin to parching; hardly may I stand;

The life within me seems to swim and faint;

Nothing do I foresee save woe and wail!

It is not good, O Keshav! nought of good

Can spring from mutual slaughter! Lo, I hate

Triumph and domination, wealth and ease,

Thus sadly won! Aho! what victory

Can bring delight, Govinda! what rich spoils

Could profit; what rule recompense; what span

Of life itself seem sweet, bought with such blood—

Seeing that these stand here, ready to die,

For whose sake life was fair, and pleasure pleased,

And power grew precious:—grandsires, sires, and sons.

Brothers, and fathers-in-law, and sons-in-law,

Elders and friends! Shall I deal death on these

Even though they seek to slay us— Not one blow,

O Madhusudan! will I strike to gain

The rule of all Three Worlds; then, how much less

To seize an earthly kingdom! Killing these

Must breed but anguish, Krishna! If they be

Guilty, we shall grow guilty by their deaths;

Their sins will light on us, if we shall slay

Those sons of Dhritirashtra, and our kin;

What peace could come of that, O Madhava—

For if indeed, blinded by lust and wrath,

These cannot see, or will not see, the sin

Of kingly lines o’erthrown and kinsmen slain,

How should not we, who see, shun such a crime—

We who perceive the guilt and feel the shame—

Oh, thou Delight of Men, Janârdana—

By overthrow of houses perisheth

Their sweet continuous household piety,

And—rites neglected, piety extinct—

Enters impiety upon that home;

Its women grow unwomaned, whence there spring

Mad passions, and the mingling-up of castes,

Sending a Hell-ward road that family,

And whoso wrought its doom by wicked wrath.

Nay, and the souls of honored ancestors

Fall from their place of peace, being bereft

Of funeral-cakes and the wan death-water.

So teach our holy hymns. Thus, if we slay

Kinsfolk and friends for love of earthly power,

Ahovat! what an evil fault it were!

Better I deem it, if my kinsmen strike,

To face them weaponless, and bare my breast

To shaft and spear, than answer blow with blow.

So speaking, in the face of those two hosts,

Arjuna sank upon his chariot-seat,

And let fall bow and arrows, sick at heart.

Here endeth Chapter I. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ, entitled

“Arjun-Vishâd,” or “The Book of the

Distress of Arjuna

Chapter II

SANJAYA:

HIM, filled with such compassion and such grief,

With eyes tear-dimmed, despondent, in stern words

The Driver, Madhusudan, thus addressed:

KRISHNA:

How hath this weakness taken thee— Whence springs

The inglorious trouble, shameful to the brave,

Barring the path of virtue— Nay, Arjun!

Forbid thyself to feebleness! it mars

Thy warrior-name! cast off the coward-fit!

Wake! Be thyself! Arise, Scourge of thy foes!

ARJUNA:

How can I, in the battle, shoot with shafts

On Bhishma, or on Drona—oh, thou Chief!—

Both worshipful, both honorable men—

Better to live on beggar’s bread

With those we love alive,

Than taste their blood in rich feasts spread,

And guiltily survive!

Ah! were it worse—who knows——to be

Victor or vanquished here,

When those confront us angrily

Whose death leaves living drear—

In pity lost, by doubtings tossed,

My thoughts—distracted—turn

To Thee, the Guide I reverence most,

That I may counsel learn:

I know not what would heal the grief

Burned into soul and sense,

If I were earth’s unchallenged chief—

A god—and these gone thence!

SANJAYA:

So spake Arjuna to the Lord of Hearts,

And sighing, “I will not fight!” held silence then.

To whom, with tender smile (O Bharata!)

While the Prince wept despairing ’twixt those hosts,

Krishna made answer in divinest verse:

KRISHNA:

Thou grievest where no grief should be! thou speak’st

Words lacking wisdom! for the wise in heart

Mourn not for those that live, nor those that die.

Nor I, nor thou, nor any one of these,

Ever was not, nor ever will not be,

For ever and for ever afterwards.

All, that doth live, lives always! To man’s frame

As there come infancy and youth and age,

So come there raisings-up and layings-down

Of other and of other life-abodes,

Which the wise know, and fear not. This that irks—

Thy sense-life, thrilling to the elements—

Bringing thee heat and cold, sorrows and joys,

’Tis brief and mutable! Bear with it, Prince!

As the wise bear. The soul which is not moved,

The soul that with a strong and constant calm

Takes sorrow and takes joy indifferently,

Lives in the life undying! That which is

Can never cease to be; that which is not

Will not exist. To see this truth of both

Is theirs who part essence from accident,

Substance from shadow. Indestructible,

Learn thou! the Life is, spreading life through all;

It cannot anywhere, by any means,

Be anywise diminished, stayed, or changed.

But for these fleeting frames which it informs

With spirit deathless, endless, infinite,

They perish. Let them perish, Prince! and fight!

He who shall say, “Lo! I have slain a man!”

He who shall think, “Lo! I am slain!” those both

Know naught! Life cannot slay. Life is not slain!

Never the spirit was born; the spirit shall cease to be never;

Never was time it was not; End and Beginning are dreams!

Birthless and deathless and changeless remaineth the spirit for ever;

Death hath not touched it at all, dead though the house of it seems!

Who knoweth it exhaustless, self-sustained,

Immortal, indestructible,—shall such

Say, “I have killed a man, or caused to kill—”

Nay, but as when one layeth

His worn-out robes away,

And, taking new ones, sayeth,

“These will I wear to-day!”

So putteth by the spirit

Lightly its garb of flesh,

And passeth to inherit

A residence afresh.

I say to thee weapons reach not the Life,

Flame burns it not, waters cannot o’erwhelm,

Nor dry winds wither it. Impenetrable,

Unentered, unassailed, unharmed, untouched,

Immortal, all-arriving, stable, sure,

Invisible, ineffable, by word

And thought uncompassed, ever all itself,

Thus is the Soul declared! How wilt thou, then,

Knowing it so,—grieve when thou shouldst not grieve—

How, if thou hearest that the man new-dead

Is, like the man new-born, still living man—

One same, existent Spirit—wilt thou weep—

The end of birth is death; the end of death

Is birth: this is ordained! and mournest thou,

Chief of the stalwart arm! for what befalls

Which could not otherwise befall— The birth

Of living things comes unperceived; the death

Comes unperceived; between them, beings perceive:

What is there sorrowful herein dear Prince—

Wonderful, wistful, to contemplate!

Difficult, doubtful, to speak upon!

Strange and great for tongue to relate,

Mystical hearing for every one!

Nor wotteth man this, what a marvel it is,

When seeing, and saying, and hearing are done!

This Life within all living things, my Prince!

Hides beyond harm; scorn thou to suffer, then,

For that which cannot suffer. Do thy part!

Be mindful of thy name, and tremble not!

Nought better can betide a martial soul

Than lawful war; happy the warrior

To whom comes joy of battle—comes, as now,

Glorious and fair, unsought; opening for him

A gateway unto Heav’n. But, if thou shunn’st

This honorable field—a Kshattriya—

If, knowing thy duty and thy task, thou bidd’st

Duty and task go by—that shall be sin!

And those to come shall speak thee infamy

From age to age; but infamy is worse

For men of noble blood to bear than death!

The chiefs upon their battle-chariots

Will deem ’twas fear that drove thee from the fray.

Of those who held thee mighty-souled the scorn

Thou must abide, while all thine enemies

Will scatter bitter speech of thee, to mock

The valor which thou hadst; what fate could fall

More grievously than this— Either—being killed—

Thou wilt win Swarga’s safety, or—alive

And victor—thou wilt reign an earthly king.

Therefore, arise, thou Son of Kunti! brace

Thine arm for conflict, nerve thy heart to meet—

As things alike to thee—pleasure or pain,

Profit or ruin, victory or defeat:

So minded, gird thee to the fight, for so

Thou shalt not sin!

Thus far I speak to thee

As from the “Sânkhya”—unspiritually—

Hear now the deeper teaching of the Yôg,

Which holding, understanding, thou shalt burst

Thy Karmabandh, the bondage of wrought deeds.

Here shall no end be hindered, no hope marred

No loss be feared: faith—yea, a little faith—

Shall save thee from the anguish of thy dread.

Here, Glory of the Kurus! shines one rule—

One steadfast rule—while shifting souls have laws

Many and hard. Specious, but wrongful deem

The speech of those ill-taught ones who extol

The letter of their Vedas, saying, “This

Is all we have, or need;” being weak at heart

With wants, seekers of Heaven: which comes—they say—

As “fruit of good deeds done;” promising men

Much profit in new births for works of faith;

In various rites abounding; following whereon

Large merit shall accrue towards wealth and power;

Albeit, who wealth and power do most desire

Least fixity of soul have such, least hold

On heavenly meditation. Much these teach,

From Veds, concerning the “three qualities;”

But thou, be free of the “three qualities,”

Free of the “pairs of opposites,” 1 and free

From that sad righteousness which calculates;

Self-ruled, Arjuna! simple, satisfied! 2

Look! like as when a tank pours water forth

To suit all needs, so do these Brahmans draw

Texts for all wants from tank of Holy Writ.

But thou, want not! ask not! Find full reward

Of doing right in right! Let right deeds be

Thy motive, not the fruit which comes from them.

And live in action! Labor! Make thine acts

Thy piety, casting all self aside,

Contemning gain and merit; equable

In good or evil: equability

Is Yôg, is piety!

Yet, the right act

Is less, far less, than the right-thinking mind.

Seek refuge in thy soul; have there thy heaven!

Scorn them that follow virtue for her gifts!

The mind of pure devotion—even here—

Casts equally aside good deeds and bad,

Passing above them. Unto pure devotion

Devote thyself: with perfect meditation

Comes perfect act, and the right-hearted rise—

More certainly because they seek no gain—

Forth from the bands of body, step by step,

To highest seats of bliss. When thy firm soul

Hath shaken off those tangled oracles

Which ignorantly guide, then shall it soar

To high neglect of what’s denied or said,

This way or that way, in doctrinal writ.

Troubled no longer by the priestly lore

Safe shall it live, and sure; steadfastly bent

On meditation. This is Yôg—and Peace!

ARJUNA:

What is his mark who hath that steadfast heart,

Confirmed in holy meditation— How

Know we his speech, Kesava— Sits he, moves he

Like other men—

KRISHNA:

When one, O Prithâ’s Son!—

Abandoning desires which shake the mind—

Finds in his soul full comfort for his soul,

He hath attained the Yôg—that man is such!

In sorrows not rejected, and in joys

Not overjoyed; dwelling outside the stress

Of passion, fear, and anger; fixed in calms

Of lofty contemplation;—such an one

Is Muni, is the Sage, the true Recluse!

He, who to none and nowhere overbound

By ties of flesh, takes evil things and good

Neither desponding nor exulting, such

Bears wisdom’s plainest mark! He who shall draw,

As the wise tortoise draws its four feet safe

Under its shield, his five frail senses back

Under the spirit’s buckler from the world

Which else assails them, such an one, my Prince!

Hath wisdom’s mark! Things that solicit sense

Hold off from the self-governed; nay, it comes,

The appetites of him who lives beyond

Depart,—aroused no more. Yet may it chance

O Son of Kunti! that a governed mind

Shall some time feel the sense-storms sweep, and wrest

Strong self-control by the roots. Let him regain

His kingdom! let him conquer this, and sit

On Me intent. That man alone is wise

Who keeps the mastery of himself! If one

Ponders on objects of the sense, there springs

Attraction; from attraction grows desire,

Desire flames to fierce passion, passion breeds

Recklessness; then the memory—all betrayed—

Lets noble purpose go, and saps the mind,

Till purpose, mind, and man are all undone.

But, if one deals with objects of the sense

Not loving and not hating, making them

Serve his free soul, which rests serenely lord,

Lo, such a man comes to tranquillity;

And out of that tranquillity shall rise

The end and healing of his earthly pains,

Since the will governed sets the soul at peace.

The soul of the ungoverned is not his,

Nor hath he knowledge of himself; which lacked,

How grows serenity— and, wanting that,

Whence shall he hope for happiness—

The mind

That gives itself to follow shows of sense

Seeth its helm of wisdom rent away,

And, like a ship in waves of whirlwind, drives

To wreck and death. Only with him, great Prince!

Whose sense are not swayed by things of sense—

Only with him who holds his mastery,

Shows wisdom perfect. What is midnight-gloom

To unenlightened souls shines wakeful day

Is known for night, thick night of ignorance,

To his true-seeing eyes. Such is the Saint!

And like the ocean, day by day receiving

Floods from all lands, which never overflows;

Its boundary-line not leaping, and not leaving,

Fed by the rivers, but unswelled by those;—

So is the perfect one! to his soul’s ocean

The world of sense pours streams of witchery;

They leave him as they find, without commotion,

Taking their tribute, but remaining sea.

Yea! whoso, shaking off the yoke of flesh,

Lives lord, not servant, of his lusts; set free

From pride, from passion, from the sin of “Self,”

Toucheth tranquillity! O Prithâ’s son!

That is the state of Brahm! There rests no dread

When that last step is reached! Live where he will,

Die when he may, such passeth from all ’plaining,

To blest Nirvâna, with the Gods, attaining.

Here endeth Chapter II. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Sânkhya-Yôg,” or “The Book of

Doctrines”

Note 1. Technical phrases of Vedic religion.

Note 2. The whole of this passage is highly involved and difficult to render.

Chapter III

ARJUNA:

THOU whom all mortals praise, Janârdana!

If meditation be a nobler thing

Than action, wherefore, then, great Kesava!

Dost thou impel me to this dreadful fight—

Now am I by thy doubtful speech disturbed!

Tell me one thing, and tell me certainly;

By what road shall I find the better end—

KRISHNA:

I told thee, blameless Lord! there be two paths

Shown to this world; two schools of wisdom. First

The Sânkhy’s, which doth save in way of works

Prescribed 1 by reason; next, the Yôg, which bids

Attain by meditation, spiritually:

Yet these are one! No man shall ’scape from act

By shunning action; nay, and none shall come

By mere renouncements unto perfectness.

Nay, and no jot of time, at any time,

Rests any actionless; his nature’s law

Compels him, even unwilling, into act;

[For thought is act in fancy]. He who sits

Suppressing all the instruments of flesh,

Yet in his idle heart thinking on them,

Plays the inept and guilty hypocrite:

But he who, with strong body serving mind,

Gives up his mortal powers to worthy work,

Not seeking gain, Arjuna! such an one

Is honorable. Do thine allotted task!

Work is more excellent than idleness;

The body’s life proceeds not, lacking work.

There is a task of holiness to do,

Unlike world-binding toil, which bindeth not

The faithful soul; such earthly duty do

Free from desire, and thou shalt well perform

Thy heavenly purpose. Spake Prajâpati—

In the beginning, when all men were made,

And, with mankind, the sacrifice—“Do this!

Work! sacrifice! Increase and multiply

With sacrifice! This shall be Kamadûk,

Your ‘Cow of Plenty,’ giving back her milk

Of all abundance. Worship the gods thereby;

The gods shall yield ye grace. Those meats ye crave

The gods will grant to Labor, when it pays

Tithes in the altar-flame. But if one eats

Fruits of the earth, rendering to kindly Heaven

No gift of toil, that thief steals from his world.”

Who eat of food after their sacrifice

Are quit of fault, but they that spread a feast

All for themselves, eat sin and drink of sin.

By food the living live; food comes of rain,

And rain comes by the pious sacrifice,

And sacrifice is paid with tithes of toil;

Thus action is of Brahmâ, who is One,

The Only, All-pervading; at all times

Present in sacrifice. He that abstains

To help the rolling wheels of this great world,

Glutting his idle sense, lives a lost life,

Shameful and vain. Existing for himself,

Self-concentrated, serving self alone,

No part hath he in aught; nothing achieved,

Nought wrought or unwrought toucheth him; no hope

Of help for all the living things of earth

Depends from him. 2 Therefore, thy task prescribed

With spirit unattached gladly perform,

Since in performance of plain duty man

Mounts to his highest bliss. By works alone

Janak, and ancient saints reached blessedness!

Moreover, for the upholding of thy kind,

Action thou should’st embrace. What the wise choose

The unwise people take; what best men do

The multitude will follow. Look on me,

Thou Son of Prithâ! in the three wide worlds

I am not bound to any toil, no height

Awaits to scale, no gift remains to gain,

Yet I act here! and, if I acted not—

Earnest and watchful—those that look to me

For guidance, sinking back to sloth again

Because I slumbered, would decline from good,

And I should break earth’s order and commit

Her offspring unto ruin, Bharata!

Even as the unknowing toil, wedded to sense,

So let the enlightened toil, sense-freed, but set

To bring the world deliverance, and its bliss;

Not sowing in those simple, busy hearts

Seed of despair. Yea! let each play his part

In all he finds to do, with unyoked soul.

All things are everywhere by Nature wrought

In interaction of the qualities.

The fool, cheated by self, thinks, “This I did”

And “That I wrought;” but—ah, thou strong-armed Prince!—

A better-lessoned mind, knowing the play

Of visible things within the world of sense,

And how the qualities must qualify,

Standeth aloof even from his acts. Th’ untaught

Live mixed with them, knowing not Nature’s way,

Of highest aims unwitting, slow and dull.

Those make thou not to stumble, having the light;

But all thy dues discharging, for My sake,

With meditation centred inwardly,

Seeking no profit, satisfied, serene,

Heedless of issue—fight! They who shall keep

My ordinance thus, the wise and willing hearts,

Have quittance from all issue of their acts;

But those who disregard my ordinance,

Thinking they know, know nought, and fall to loss,

Confused and foolish. ‘Sooth, the instructed one

Doth of his kind, following what fits him most;

And lower creatures of their kind; in vain

Contending ’gainst the law. Needs must it be

The objects of the sense will stir the sense

To like and dislike, yet th’ enlightened man

Yields not to these, knowing them enemies.

Finally, this is better, that one do

His own task as he may, even though he fail,

Than take tasks not his own, though they seem good

To die performing duty is no ill;

But who seeks other roads shall wander still.

ARJUNA:

Yet tell me, Teacher! by what force doth man

Go to his ill, unwilling; as if one

Pushed him that evil path—

KRISHNA:

Kama it is!

Passion it is! born of the Darknesses,

Which pusheth him. Mighty of appetite,

Sinful, and strong is this!—man’s enemy!

As smoke blots the white fire, as clinging rust

Mars the bright mirror, as the womb surrounds

The babe unborn, so is the world of things

Foiled, soiled, enclosed in this desire of flesh.

The wise fall, caught in it; the unresting foe

It is of wisdom, wearing countless forms,

Fair but deceitful, subtle as a flame.

Sense, mind, and reason—these, O Kunti’s son!

Are booty for it; in its play with these

It maddens man, beguiling, blinding him.

Therefore, thou noblest child of Bharata!

Govern thy heart! Constrain th’ entangled sense!

Resist the false, soft sinfulness which saps

Knowledge and judgment! Yea, the world is strong,

But what discerns it stronger, and the mind

Strongest; and high o’er all the ruling Soul.

Wherefore, perceiving Him who reigns supreme,

Put forth full force of Soul in thy own soul!

Fight! vanquish foes and doubts, dear Hero! slay

What haunts thee in fond shapes, and would betray!

Here endeth Chapter III. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ

entitled “Karma-Yôg,” or “The Book

of Virtue in Work”

Note 1. I feel convinced sânkhyânân and yoginân must be transposed here in sense.

Note 2. I am doubtful of accuracy here.

Chapter IV

KRISHNA:

THIS deathless Yoga, this deep union,

I taught Vivaswata, 1 the Lord of Light;

Vivaswata to Manu gave it; he

To Ikshwâku; so passed it down the line

Of all my royal Rishis. Then, with years,

The truth grew dim and perished, noble Prince!

Now once again to thee it is declared—

This ancient lore, this mystery supreme—

Seeing I find thee votary and friend.

KRISHNA:

Thy birth, dear Lord, was in these later days,

And bright Vivaswata’s preceded time!

How shall I comprehend this thing thou sayest,

“From the beginning it was I who taught—”

KRISHNA:

Manifold the renewals of my birth

Have been, Arjuna! and of thy births too!

But mine I know, and thine thou knowest not,

O slayer of thy Foes! Albeit I be

Unborn, undying, indestructible,

The Lord of all things living; not the less—

By Maya, by my magic which I stamp

On floating Nature-forms, the primal vast—

I come, and go, and come. When Righteousness

Declines, O Bharata! when Wickedness

Is strong, I rise, from age to age, and take

Visible shape, and move a man with men,

Succoring the good, thrusting the evil back,

And setting Virtue on her seat again.

Who knows the truth touching my births on earth

And my divine work, when he quits the flesh

Puts on its load no more, falls no more down

To earthly birth: to Me he comes, dear Prince!

Many there be who come! from fear set free,

From anger, from desire; keeping their hearts

Fixed upon me—my Faithful—purified

By sacred flame of Knowledge. Such as these

Mix with my being. Whoso worship me,

Them I exalt; but all men everywhere

Shall fall into my path; albeit, those souls

Which seek reward for works, make sacrifice

Now, to the lower gods. I say to thee

Here have they their reward. But I am He

Made the Four Castes, and portioned them a place

After their qualities and gifts. Yea, I

Created, the Reposeful; I that live

Immortally, made all those mortal births:

For works soil not my essence, being works

Wrought uninvolved. 2 Who knows me acting thus

Unchained by action, action binds not him;

And, so perceiving, all those saints of old

Worked, seeking for deliverance. Work thou

As, in the days gone by, thy fathers did.

Thou sayst, perplexed, It hath been asked before

By singers and by sages, “What is act,

And what inaction—” I will teach thee this,

And, knowing, thou shalt learn which work doth save.

Needs must one rightly meditate those three—

Doing,—not doing,—and undoing. Here

Thorny and dark the path is! He who sees

How action may be rest, rest action—he

Is wisest ’mid his kind; he hath the truth!

He doeth well, acting or resting. Freed

In all his works from prickings of desire,

Burned clean in act by the white fire of truth,

The wise call that man wise; and such an one,

Renouncing fruit of deeds, always content,

Always self-satisfying, if he works,

Doth nothing that shall stain his separate soul,

Which—quit of fear and hope—subduing self—

Rejecting outward impulse—yielding up

To body’s need nothing save body, dwells

Sinless amid all sin, with equal calm

Taking what may befall, by grief unmoved,

Unmoved by joy, unenvyingly; the same

In good and evil fortunes; nowise bound

By bond of deeds. Nay, but of such an one,

Whose crave is gone, whose soul is liberate,

Whose heart is set on truth—of such an one

What work he does is work of sacrifice,

Which passeth purely into ash and smoke

Consumed upon the altar! All’s then God!

The sacrifice is Brahm, the ghee and grain

Are Brahm, the fire is Brahm, the flesh it eats

Is Brahm, and unto Brahm attaineth he

Who, in such office, meditates on Brahm.

Some votaries there be who serve the gods

With flesh and altar-smoke; but other some

Who, lighting subtler fires, make purer rite

With will of worship. Of the which be they

Who, in white flame of continence, consume

Joys of the sense, delights of eye and ear,

Foregoing tender speech and sound of song:

And they who, kindling fires with torch of Truth,

Burn on a hidden altar-stone the bliss

Of youth and love, renouncing happiness:

And they who lay for offering there their wealth,

Their penance, meditation, piety,

Their steadfast reading of the scrolls, their lore

Painfully gained with long austerities:

And they who, making silent sacrifice,

Draw in their breath to feed the flame of thought,

And breathe it forth to waft the heart on high,

Governing the ventage of each entering air

Lest one sigh pass which helpth not the soul:

And they who, day by day denying needs,

Lay life itself upon the altar-flame,

Burning the body wan. Lo! all these keep

The rite of offering, as if they slew

Victims; and all thereby efface much sin

Yea! and who feed on the immortal food

Left of such sacrifice, to Brahma pass

To the Unending. But for him that makes

No sacrifice, he hath nor part nor lot

Even in the present world. How should he share

Another, O thou Glory of thy Line.

In sight of Brahma all these offerings

Are spread and are accepted! Comprehend

That all proceed by act; for knowing this,

Thou shalt be quit of doubt. The sacrifice

Which knowledge pays is better than great gifts

Offered by wealth, since gifts’ worth—O my Prince!

Lies in the mind which gives, the will that serves:

And these are gained by reverence, by strong search,

By humble heed of those who see the Truth

And teach it. Knowing Truth, thy heart no more

Will ache with error, for the Truth shall show

All things subdued to thee, as thou to Me.

Moreover, Son of Pandu! wert thou worst

Of all wrong-doers, this fair ship of Truth

Should bear thee safe and dry across the sea

Of thy transgressions. As the kindled flame

Feeds on the fuel till it sinks to ash,

So unto ash, Arjuna! unto nought

The flame of Knowledge wastes works’ dross away!

There is no purifier like thereto

In all this world, and he who seeketh it

Shall find it—being grown perfect—in himself.

Believing, he receives it when the soul

Masters itself, and cleaves to Truth, and comes—

Possessing knowledge—to the higher peace,

The uttermost repose. But those untaught,

And those without full faith, and those who fear

Are shent; no peace is here or other where,

No hope, nor happiness for whoso doubts.

He that, being self-contained, hath vanquished doubt,

Disparting self from service, soul from works,

Enlightened and emancipate, my Prince!

Works fetter him no more! Cut then atwin

With sword of wisdom, Son of Bharata!

This doubt that binds thy heart-beats! cleave the bond

Born of thy ignorance! Be bold and wise!

Give thyself to the field with me! Arise!

Here endeth Chapter IV. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Jnana-Yôg,” or “The Book of

the Religion of Knowledge”

Note 1. A name of the sun.

Note 2. Without desire of fruit.

Chapter V

ARJUNA:

YET, Krishna! at the one time thou dost laud

Surcease of works, and, at another time,

Service through work. Of these twain plainly tell

Which is the better way—

KRISHNA:

To cease from works

Is well, and to do works in holiness

Is well; and both conduct to bliss supreme;

But of these twain the better way is his

Who working piously refraineth not.

That is the true Renouncer, firm and fixed,

Who—seeking nought, rejecting nought—dwells proof

Against the “opposites.” 1 O valiant Prince!

In doing, such breaks lightly from all deed:

’Tis the new scholar talks as they were two,

This Sânkhya and this Yôga: wise men know

Who husbands one plucks golden fruit of both!

The region of high rest which Sânkhyans reach

Yogins attain. Who sees these twain as one

Sees with clear eyes! Yet such abstraction, Chief!

Is hard to win without much holiness.

Whose is fixed in holiness, self-ruled,

Pure-hearted, lord of senses and of self,

Lost in the common life of all which lives—

A “Yôgayukt”—he is a Saint who wends

Straightway to Brahm. Such an one is not touched

By taint of deeds. “Nought of myself I do!”

Thus will he think—who holds the truth of truths—

In seeing, hearing, touching, smelling; when

He eats, or goes, or breathes; slumbers or talks,

Holds fast or loosens, opes his eyes or shuts;

Always assured “This is the sense-world plays

With senses.” He that acts in thought of Brahm,

Detaching end from act, with act content,

The world of sense can no more stain his soul

Than waters mar th’ enamelled lotus-leaf.

With life, with heart, with mind,—nay, with the help

Of all five senses—letting selfood go—

Yogins toil ever towards their souls’ release.

Such votaries, renouncing fruit of deeds,

Gain endless peace: the unvowed, the passion-bound,

Seeking a fruit from works, are fastened down.

The embodied sage, withdrawn within his soul,

At every act sits godlike in “the town

Which hath nine gateways,” 2 neither doing aught

Nor causing any deed. This world’s Lord makes

Neither the work, nor passion for the work,

Nor lust for fruit of work; the man’s own self

Pushes to these! The Master of this World

Takes on himself the good or evil deeds

Of no man—dwelling beyond! Mankind errs here

By folly, darkening knowledge. But, for whom

That darkness of the soul is chased by light,

Splendid and clear shines manifest the Truth

As if a Sun of Wisdom sprang to shed

Its beams of dawn. Him mediating still,

Him seeking, with Him blended, stayed on Him,

The souls illuminated take that road

Which hath no turning back—their sins flung off

By strength of faith. [Who will may have this Light;

Who hath it sees.] To him who wisely sees,

The Brahman with his scrolls and sanctities,

The cow, the elephant, the unclean dog,

The Outcast gorging dog’s meat, are all one.

The world is overcome—aye! even here!

By such as fix their faith on Unity.

The sinless Brahma dwells in Unity,

And they in Brahma. Be not over-glad

Attaining joy, and be not over-sad

Encountering grief, but, stayed on Brahma, still

Constant let each abide! The sage whose soul

Holds off from outer contacts, in himself

Finds bliss; to Brahma joined by piety,

His spirit tastes eternal peace. The joys

Springing from sense-life are but quickening wombs

Which breed sure griefs: those joys begin and end!

The wise mind takes no pleasure, Kunti’s Son!

In such as those! But if a man shall learn,

Even while he lives and bears his body’s chain,

To master lust and anger, he is blest!

He is the Yukta; he hath happiness,

Contentment, light, within: his life is merged

In Brahma’s life; he doth Nirvâna touch!

Thus go the Rishis unto rest, who dwell

With sins effaced, with doubts at end, with hearts

Governed and calm. Glad in all good they live,

Nigh to the peace of God; and all those live

Who pass their days exempt from greed and wrath,

Subduing self and senses, knowing the Soul!

The Saint who shuts outside his placid soul

All touch of sense, letting no contact through;

Whose quiet eyes gaze straight from fixëd brows,

Whose outward breath and inward breath are drawn

Equal and slow through nostrils still and close;

That one—with organs, heart, and mind constrained,

Bent on deliverance, having put away

Passion, and fear, and rage;—hath, even now,

Obtained deliverance, ever and ever freed.

Yea; for he knows Me Who am He that heeds

The sacrifice and worship, God revealed;

And He who heeds not, being Lord of Worlds,

Lover of all that lives, God unrevealed,

Wherein who will shall find surety and shield!

Here ends Chapter V. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ, entitled

“Karmasanyâsayog,” or “The Book of Religion

by Renouncing Fruit of Works”

Note 1. That is, “joy and sorrow, success and failure, heat and cold,”&c.

Note 2. i.e., the body.

Chapter VI

KRISHNA: THEREFORE, who doeth work rightful to do,

Not seeking gain from work, that man, O Prince!

Is Sânyasi and Yôgi—both in one!

And he is neither who lights not the flame

Of sacrifice, nor setteth hand to task.

Regard as true Renouncer him that makes

Worship by work, for who renounceth not

Works not as Yôgin. So is that well said

“By works the votary doth rise to saint,

And saintship is the ceasing from all works;”

Because the perfect Yôgin acts—but acts

Unmoved by passions and unbound by deeds,

Setting result aside.

Let each man raise

The Self by Soul, not trample down his Self,

Since Soul that is Self’s friend may grow Self’s foe,

Soul is Self’s friend when Self doth rule o’er Self

But self turns enemy if Soul’s own self

Hates Self as not itself. 1

The sovereign soul

Of him who lives self-governed and at peace

Is centered in itself, taking alike

Pleasure and pain; heat, cold; glory and shame.

He is the Yôgi, he is Yûkta, glad

With joy of light and truth; dwelling apart

Upon a peak, with senses subjugate

Whereto the clod, the rock, the glistering gold

Show all as one. By this sign is he known

Being of equal grace to comrades, friends,

Chance-comers, strangers, lovers, enemies,

Aliens and kinsmen; loving all alike,

Evil or good.

Sequestered should he sit,

Steadfastly meditating, solitary,

His thoughts controlled, his passions laid away,

Quit of belongings. In a fair, still spot

Having his fixed abode,—not too much raised,

Nor yet too low,—let him abide, his goods

A cloth, a deerskin, and the Kusa-grass.

There, setting hard his mind upon The One,

Restraining heart and senses, silent, calm,

Let him accomplish Yôga, and achieve

Pureness of soul, holding immovable

Body and neck and head, his gaze absorbed

Upon his nose-end, 2 rapt from all around,

Tranquil in spirit, free of fear, intent

Upon his Brahmacharya vow, devout,

Musing on Me, lost in the thought of Me.

That Yôjin, so devoted, so controlled,

Comes to the peace beyond,—My peace, the peace

Of high Nirvana!

But for earthly needs

Religion is not his who too much fasts

Or too much feasts, nor his who sleeps away

An idle mind; nor his who wears to waste

His strength in vigils. Nay, Arjuna! call

That the true piety which most removes

Earth-aches and ills, where one is moderate

In eating and in resting, and in sport;

Measured in wish and act; sleeping betimes,

Waking betimes for duty.

When the man,

So living, centres on his soul the thought

Straitly restrained—untouched internally

By stress of sense—then is he Yûkta. See!

Steadfast a lamp burns sheltered from the wind;

Such is the likeness of the Yôgi’s mind

Shut from sense-storms and burning bright to Heaven.

When mind broods placid, soothed with holy wont;

When Self contemplates self, and in itself

Hath comfort; when it knows the nameless joy

Beyond all scope of sense, revealed to soul—

Only to soul! and, knowing, wavers not,

True to the farther Truth; when, holding this,

It deems no other treasure comparable,

But, harbored there, cannot be stirred or shook

By any gravest grief, call that state “peace,”

That happy severance Yôga, call that man

The perfect Yôgin!

Steadfastly the will

Must toil thereto, till efforts end in ease,

And thought has passed from thinking. Shaking off

All longings bred by dreams of fame and gain,

Shutting the doorways of the senses close

With watchful ward; so, step by step, it comes

To gift of peace assured and heart assuaged,

When the mind dwells self-wrapped, and the soul broods

Cumberless. But, as often as the heart

Breaks—wild and wavering—from control, so oft

Let him re-curb it, let him rein it back

To the soul’s governance! for perfect bliss

Grows only in the bosom tranquillized,

The spirit passionless, purged from offence,

Vowed to the Infinite. He who thus vows

His soul to the Supreme Soul, quitting sin,

Passes unhindered to the endless bliss

Of unity with Brahma. He so vowed,

So blended, sees the Life-Soul resident

In all things living, and all living things

In that Life-Soul contained. And whoso thus

Discerneth Me in all, and all in Me,

I never let him go; nor looseneth he

Hold upon Me; but, dwell he where he may,

Whate’er his life, in Me he dwells and lives

Because he knows and worships Me, Who dwell

In all which lives, and cleaves to Me in all.

Arjuna! if a man sees everywhere—

Taught by his own similitude—one Life,

One Essence in the Evil and the Good,

Hold him a Yôgi, yea! well-perfected!

ARJUNA:

Slayer of Madhu! yet again, this Yôg,

This Peace, derived from equanimity,

Made known by thee—I see no fixity

Therein, no rest, because the heart of men

Is unfixed, Krishna! rash, tumultuous,

Wilful and strong. It were all one, I think,

To hold the wayward wind, as tame man’s heart.

KRISHNA:

Hero long-armed! beyond denial, hard

Man’s heart is to restrain, and wavering;

Yet may it grow restrained by habit, Prince!

By wont of self-command. This Yôgi, I say,

Cometh not lightly to th’ ungoverned ones;

But he who will be master of himself

Shall win it, if he stoutly strive thereto.

ARJUNA:

And what road goeth he who, having faith,

Fails, Krishna! in the striving; falling back

From holiness, missing the perfect rule—

Is he not lost, straying from Brahma’s light,

Like the vain cloud, which floats ’twixt earth and Heaven

When lightning splits it, and it vanisheth—

Fain would I hear thee answer me herein,

Since, Krishna! none save thou can clear the doubt.

KRISHNA:

He is not lost, thou Son of Prithâ! No!

Nor earth, nor heaven is forfeit, even for him,

Because no heart that holds one right desire

Treadeth the road of loss! He who should fail,

Desiring righteousness, cometh at death

Unto the Region of the Just; dwells there

Measureless years, and being born anew,

Beginneth life again in some fair home

Amid the mild and happy. It may chance

He doth descend into a Yôgin house

On Vitue’s breast; but that is rare! Such birth

Is hard to be obtained on this earth, Chief!

So hath he back again what heights of heart

He did achieve, and so he strives anew

To perfectness, with better hope, dear Prince!

For by the old desire he is drawn on

Unwittingly; and only to desire

The purity of Yôga is to pass

Beyond the Sabdabrahm, the spoken Ved.

But, being Yôgi, striving strong and long,

Purged from transgressions, perfected by births

Following on births, he plants his feet at last

Upon the farther path. Such an one ranks

Above ascetics, higher than the wise,

Beyond achievers of vast deeds! Be thou

Yôgi, Arjuna! And of such believe,

Truest and best is he who worships Me

With inmost soul, stayed on My Mystery!

Here endeth Chapter VI. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Atmasanyamayôg,” or “The

Book of Religion by Self-Restraint”

Note 1. The Sanskrit has this play on the double meaning of Atman.

Note 2. So in original.

Chapter VII

KRISHNA:

LEARN now, dear Prince! how, if thy soul be set

Ever on Me—still exercising Yôg,

Still making Me thy Refuge—thou shalt come

Most surely unto perfect hold of Me.

I will declare to thee that utmost lore,

Whole and particular, which, when thou knowest

Leaveth no more to know here in this world.

Of many thousand mortals, one, perchance,

Striveth for Truth; and of those few that strive—

Nay, and rise high—one only—here and there—

Knoweth Me, as I am, the very Truth.

Earth, water, flame, air, ether, life, and mind,

And individuality—those eight

Make up the showing of Me, Manifest.

These be my lower Nature; learn the higher,

Whereby, thou Valiant One! this Universe

Is, by its principle of life, produced;

Whereby the worlds of visible things are born

As from a Yoni. Know! I am that womb:

I make and I unmake this Universe:

Than me there is no other Master, Prince!

No other Maker! All these hang on me

As hangs a row of pearls upon its string.

I am the fresh taste of the water; I

The silver of the moon, the gold o’ the sun,

The word of worship in the Veds, the thrill

That passeth in the ether, and the strength

Of man’s shed seed. I am the good sweet smell

Of the moistened earth, I am the fire’s red light,

The vital air moving in all which moves,

The holiness of hallowed souls, the root

Undying, whence hath sprung whatever is;

The wisdom of the wise, the intellect

Of the informed, the greatness of the great,

The splendor of the splendid. Kunti’s Son!

These am I, free from passion and desire;

Yet am I right desire in all who yearn,

Chief of the Bhâratas! for all those moods,

Soothfast, or passionate, or ignorant,

Which Nature frames, deduce from me; but all

Are merged in me—not I in them! The world—

Deceived by those three qualities of being—

Wotteth not Me Who am outside them all,

Above them all, Eternal! Hard it is

To pierce that veil divine of various shows

Which hideth Me; yet they who worship Me

Pierce it and pass beyond.

I am not known

To evil-doers, nor to foolish ones,

Nor to the base and churlish; nor to those

Whose mind is cheated by the show of things,

Nor those that take the way of Asuras. 1

Four sorts of mortals know me: he who weeps,

Arjuna! and the man who yearns to know;

And he who toils to help; and he who sits

Certain of me, enlightened.

Of these four,

O Prince of India! highest, nearest, best

That last is, the devout soul, wise, intent

Upon “The One.” Dear, above all, am I

To him; and he is dearest unto me!

All four are good, and seek me; but mine own,

The true of heart, the faithful—stayed on me,

Taking me as their utmost blessedness,

They are not “mine,” but I—even I myself!

At end of many births to Me they come!

Yet hard the wise Mahatma is to find,

That man who sayeth, “All is Vâsudev!” 2

There be those, too, whose knowledge, turned aside

By this desire or that, gives them to serve

Some lower gods, with various rites, constrained

By that which mouldeth them. Unto all such—

Worship what shrine they will, what shapes, in faith—

’Tis I who give them faith! I am content!

The heart thus asking favor from its God,

Darkened but ardent, hath the end it craves,

The lesser blessing—but ’tis I who give!

Yet soon is withered what small fruit they reap

Those men of little minds, who worship so,

Go where they worship, passing with their gods.

But Mine come unto me! Blind are the eyes

Which deem th’ Unmanifested manifest,

Not comprehending Me in my true Self!

Imperishable, viewless, undeclared,

Hidden behind my magic veil of shows,

I am not seen by all; I am not known—

Unborn and changeless—to the idle world.

But I, Arjuna! know all things which were,

And all which are, and all which are to be,

Albeit not one among them knoweth Me!

By passion for the “pairs of opposites,”

By those twain snares of Like and Dislike, Prince!

All creatures live bewildered, save some few

Who, quit of sins, holy in act, informed,

Freed from the “opposites,” and fixed in faith,

Cleave unto Me.

Who cleave, who seek in Me

Refuge from birth 3 and death, those have the Truth!

Those know Me BRAHMA; know Me Soul of Souls,

The ADHYATMAN; know KARMA, my work;

Know I am ADHIBHUTA, Lord of Life,

And ADHIDAIVA, Lord of all the Gods,

And ADHIYAJNA, Lord of Sacrifice;

Worship Me well, with hearts of love and faith,

And find and hold Me in the hour of death.

Here endeth Chapter VII. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Vijnânayôg,” or “The Book

of Religion by Discernment”

Note 1. Beings of low and devilish nature.

Note 2. Krishna.

Note 3. I read here janma, “birth;” not jara, “age.”

Chapter VIII

ARJUNA:

WHO is that BRAHMA— What that Soul of Souls,

The ADHYATMAN— What, Thou Best of All!

Thy work, the KARMA— Tell me what it is

Thou namest ADHIBHUTA— What again

Means ADHIDAIVA— Yea, and how it comes

Thou canst be ADHIYAJNA in thy flesh—

Slayer of Madhu! Further, make me know

How good men find thee in the hour of death—f

KRISHNA:

I BRAHMA am! the One Eternal God,

And ADHYATMAN is My Being’s name,

The Soul of Souls! What goeth forth from Me,

Causing all life to live, is KARMA called:

And, Manifested in divided forms,

I am the ADHIBHUTA, Lord of Lives;

And ADHIDAIVA, Lord of all the Gods,

Because I am PURUSHA, who begets.

And ADHIYAJNA, Lord of Sacrifice,

I—speaking with thee in this body here—

Am, thou embodied one! (for all the shrines

Flame unto Me!) And, at the hour of death,

He that hath meditated Me alone,

In putting off his flesh, comes forth to Me,

Enters into My Being—doubt thou not!

But, if he meditated otherwise

At hour of death, in putting off the flesh,

He goes to what he looked for, Kunti’s Son!

Because the Soul is fashioned to its like.

Have Me, then, in thy heart always! and fight!

Thou too, when heart and mind are fixed on Me,

Shalt surely come to Me! All come who cleave

With never-wavering will of firmest faith,

Owning none other Gods: all come to Me,

The Uttermost, Purusha, Holiest!

Whoso hath known Me, Lord of sage and singer,

Ancient of days; of all the Three Worlds Stay,

Boundless,—but unto every atom Bringer

Of that which quickens it: whoso, I say,

Hath known My form, which passeth mortal knowing;

Seen my effulgence—which no eye hath seen—

Than the sun’s burning gold more brightly glowing,

Dispering darkness,—unto him hath been

Right life! And, in the hour when life is ending,

With mind set fast and trustful piety,

Drawing still breath beneath calm brows unbending,

In happy peace that faithful one doth die,—

In glad peace passeth to Purusha’s heaven,

The place which they who read the Vedas name

AKSHARAM, “Ultimate;” whereto have striven

Saints and ascetics—their road is the same.

That way—the highest way—goes he who shuts

The gates of all his sense, locks desire

Safe in his heart, centres the vital airs

Upon his parting thought, steadfastly set;

And, murmuring OM, the sacred syllable—

Emblem of BRAHM—dies, meditating Me.

For who, none other Gods regarding, looks

Ever to Me, easily am I gained

By such a Yôgi; and, attaining Me,

They fall not—those Mahatmas—back to birth,

To life, which is the place of pain, which ends,

But take the way of utmost blessedness.

The worlds, Arjuna!—even Brahma’s world—

Roll back again from Death to Life’s unrest;

But they, O Kunti’s Son! that reach to Me,

Taste birth no more. If ye know Brahma’s Day

Which is a thousand Yugas; if ye know

The thousand Yugas making Brahma’s Night,

Then know ye Day and Night as He doth know!

When that vast Dawn doth break, th’ Invisible

Is brought anew into the Visible;

When that deep Night doth darken, all which is

Fades back again to Him Who sent it forth;

Yea! this vast company of living things—

Again and yet again produced—expires

At Brahma’s Nightfall; and, at Brahma’s Dawn,

Riseth, without its will, to life new-born.

But—higher, deeper, innermost—abides

Another Life, not like the life of sense,

Escaping sight, unchanging. This endures

When all created things have passed away:

This is that Life named the Unmanifest,

The Infinite! the All! the Uttermost.

Thither arriving none return. That Life

Is Mine, and I am there! And, Prince! by faith

Which wanders not, there is a way to come

Thither. I, the PURUSHA, I Who spread

The Universe around me—in Whom dwell

All living Things—may so be reached and seen! 1

Richer than holy fruit on Vedas growing,

Greater than gifts, better than prayer or fast,

Such wisdom is! The Yôgi, this way knowing,

Comes to the Utmost Perfect Peace at last.

Here endeth Chapter VIII. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ, entitled

“Aksharaparabrahmayôg,” or “The Book of

Religion by Devotion to the One Supreme God”

Note 1. I have discarded ten lines of Sanskrit text here as an undoubted interpolation by some Vedantist.

Chapter IX

KRISHNA:

NOW will I open unto thee—whose heart

Rejects not—that last lore, deepest-concealed,

That farthest secret of My Heavens and Earths,

Which but to know shall set thee free from ills,—

A Royal lore! a Kingly mystery!

Yea! for the soul such light as purgeth it

From every sin; a light of holiness

With inmost splendor shining; plain to see;

Easy to walk by, inexhaustible!

They that receive not this, failing in faith

To grasp the greater wisdom, reach not Me,

Destroyer of thy foes! They sink anew

Into the realm of Flesh, where all things change!

By Me the whole vast Universe of things

Is spread abroad;—by Me, the Unmanifest!

In Me are all existences contained;

Not I in them!

Yet they are not contained,

Those visible things! Receive and strive to embrace

The mystery majestical! My Being—

Creating all, sustaining all—still dwells

Outside of all!

See! as the shoreless airs

Move in the measureless space, but are not space,

[And space were space without the moving airs];

So all things are in Me, but are not I.

At closing of each Kalpa, Indian Prince!

All things which be back to My Being come:

At the beginning of each Kalpa, all

Issue newborn from Me.

By Energy

And help of Prakritî, my outer Self,

Again, and yet again, I make go forth

The realms of visible things—without their will—

All of them—by the power of Prakritî.

Yet these great makings, Prince! involve Me not,

Enchain Me not! I sit apart from them,

Other, and Higher, and Free; nowise attached!

Thus doth the stuff of worlds, moulded by Me,

Bring forth all that which is, moving or still,

Living or lifeless! Thus the worlds go on!

The minds untaught mistake Me, veiled in form;—

Naught see they of My secret Presence, nought

Of My hid Nature, ruling all which lives.

Vain hopes pursuing, vain deeds doing; fed

On vainest knowledge, senselessly they seek

An evil way, the way of brutes and fiends.

But My Mahatmas, those of noble soul

Who tread the path celestial, worship Me

With hearts unwandering,—knowing Me the Source,

Th’ Eternal Source, of Life. Unendingly

They glorify Me; seek Me; keep their vows

Of reverence and love, with changeless faith

Adoring Me. Yea, and those too adore,

Who, offering sacrifice of wakened hearts,

Have sense of one pervading Spirit’s stress,

One Force in every place, though manifold!

I am the Sacrifice! I am the Prayer!

I am the Funeral-Cake set for the dead!

I am the healing herb! I am the ghee,

The Mantra, and the flame, and that which burns!

I am—of all this boundless Universe—

The Father, Mother, Ancestor, and Guard!

The end of Learning! That which purifies

In lustral water! I am OM! I am

Rig-Veda, Sama-Veda, Yajur-Ved;

The Way, the Fosterer, the Lord, the Judge,

The Witness; the Abode, the Refuge-House,

The Friend, the Fountain and the Sea of Life

Which sends, and swallows up; Treasure of Worlds

And Treasure-Chamber! Seed and Seed-Sower,

Whence endless harvests spring! Sun’s heat is mine;

Heaven’s rain is mine to grant or to withhold;

Death am I, and Immortal Life I am,

Arjuna! SAT and ASAT, Visible Life,

And Life Invisible!

Yea! those who learn

The threefold Veds, who drink the Soma-wine,

Purge sins, pay sacrifice—from Me they earn

Passage to Swarga; where the meats divine

Of great gods feed them in high Indra’s heaven.

Yet they, when that prodigious joy is o’er,

Paradise spent, and wage for merits given,

Come to the world of death and change once more.

They had their recompense! they stored their treasure,

Following the threefold Scripture and its writ;

Who seeketh such gaineth the fleeting pleasure

Of joy which comes and goes! I grant them it!

But to those blessèd ones who worship Me,

Turning not otherwhere, with minds set fast,

I bring assurance of full bliss beyond.

Nay, and of hearts which follow other gods

In simple faith, their prayers arise to me,

O Kunti’s Son! though they pray wrongfully:

For I am the Receiver and the Lord

Of every sacrifice, which these know not

Rightfully; so they fall to earth again!

Who follow gods go to their gods; who vow

Their souls to Pitris go to Pitris; minds

To evil Bhûts given o’er sink to the Bhûts;

And whoso loveth Me cometh to Me.

Whoso shall offer Me in faith and love

A leaf, a flower, a fruit, water poured forth,

That offering I accept, lovingly made

With pious will. Whate’er thou doest, Prince!

Eating or sacrificing, giving gifts,

Praying or fasting, let it all be done

For Me, as Mine. So shalt thou free thyself

From Karmabandh, the chain which holdeth men

To good and evil issue, so shalt come

Safe unto Me—when thou art quit of flesh—

By faith and abdication joined to Me!

I am alike for all! I know not hate,

I know not favor! What is made is Mine!

But them that worship Me with love, I love;

They are in Me, and I in them!

Nay, Prince!

If one of evil life turn in his thought

Straightly to Me, count him amidst the good;

He hath the highway chosen; he shall grow

Righteous ere long; he shall attain that peace

Which changes not. Thou Prince of India!

Be certain none can perish, trusting Me!

O Prithâ’s Son! whoso will turn to Me,

Though they be born from the very womb of Sin,

Woman or man; sprung of the Vaisya caste

Or lowly disregarded Sudra,—all

Plant foot upon the highest path; how then

The holy Brahmans and My Royal Saints—

Ah! ye who into this ill world are come—

Fleeting and false—set your faith fast on Me!

Fix heart and thought on Me! Adore Me! Bring

Offerings to Me! Make Me prostrations! Make

Me your supremest joy! and, undivided,

Unto My rest your spirits shall be guided.

Here ends Chapter IX. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ, entitled

“Rajavidyârajaguhyayôg,” or “The Book of

Religion by the Kingly Knowledge and

the Kingly Mystery”

Chapter X

KRISHNA: 1

HEAR farther yet thou Long-Armed Lord! these latest words I say—

Uttered to bring thee bliss and peace, who lovest Me alway—

Not the great company of gods nor kingly Rishis know

My Nature, who have made the gods and Rishis long ago;

He only knoweth—only he is free of sin, and wise,

Who seeth Me, Lord of the Worlds, with faith-enlightened eyes,

Unborn, undying, unbegun. Whatever Natures be

To mortal men distributed, those natures spring from Me!

Intellect, skill, enlightenment, endurance, self-control,

Truthfulness, equability, and grief or joy of soul,

And birth and death, and fearfulness, and fearlessness, and shame,

And honor, and sweet harmlessness, 2 and peace which is the same

Whate’er befalls, and mirth, and tears, and piety, and thrift,

And wish to give, and will to help,—all cometh of My gift!

The Seven Chief Saints, the Elders Four, the Lordly Manus set—

Sharing My work—to rule the worlds, these too did I beget;

And Rishis, Pitris, Manus, all, by one thought of My mind;

Thence did arise, to fill this world, the races of mankind;

Wherefrom who comprehends My Reign of mystic Majesty—

That truth of truths—is thenceforth linked in faultless faith to Me:

Yea! knowing Me the source of all, by Me all creatures wrought,

The wise in spirit cleave to Me, into My Being brought;

Hearts fixed on Me; breaths breathed to Me; praising Me, each to each,

So have they happiness and peace, with pious thought and speech;

And unto these—thus serving well, thus loving ceaselessly—

I give a mind of perfect mood, whereby they draw to Me;

And, all for love of them, within their darkened souls I dwell,

And, with bright rays of wisdom’s lamp, their ignorance dispel.

ARJUNA:

Yes! Thou art Parabrahm! The High Abode!

The Great Purification! Thou art God

Eternal, All-creating, Holy, First,

Without beginning! Lord of Lords and Gods!

Declared by all the Saints—by Narada,

Vyâsa, Asita, and Devalas;

And here Thyself declaring uto me!

What Thou hast said now know I to be truth,

O Kesava! that neither gods nor men

Nor demons comprehend Thy mystery

Made manifest, Divinest! Thou Thyself

Thyself alone dost know, Maker Supreme!

Master of all the living! Lord of Gods!

King of the Universe! To Thee alone

Belongs to tell the heavenly excellence

Of those perfections wherewith Thou dost fill

These worlds of Thine; Pervading, Immanent!

How shall I learn, Supremest Mystery!

To know Thee, though I muse continually—

Under what form of Thine unnumbered forms

Mayst Thou be grasped— Ah! yet again recount,

Clear and complete, Thy great appearances,

The secrets of Thy Majesty and Might,

Thou High Delight of Men! Never enough

Can mine ears drink the Amrit 3 of such words!

KRISHNA:

Hanta! So be it! Kuru Prince! I will to thee unfold

Some portions of My Majesty, whose powers are manifold!

I am the Spirit seated deep in every creature’s heart;

From Me they come; by Me they live; at My word they depart!

Vishnu of the Adityas I am, those Lords of Light;

Marîtchi of the Maruts, the Kings of Storm and Blight;

By day I gleam, the golden Sun of burning cloudless Noon;

By Night, amid the asterisms I glide, the dappled Moon!

Of Vedas I am Sâma-Ved, of gods in Indra’s Heaven

Vâsava; of the faculties to living beings given

The mind which apprehends and thinks; of Rudras Sankara;

Of Yakshas and of Râkshasas, Vittesh; and Pâvaka

Of Vasus, and of mountain-peaks Meru; Vrihaspati

Know Me ’mid planetary Powers; ’mid Warriors heavenly

Skanda; of all the water-floods the Sea which drinketh each,

And Bhrigu of the holy Saints, and OM of sacred speech;

Of prayers the prayer ye whisper; 4 of hills Himâla’s snow,

And Aswattha, the fig-tree, of all the trees that grow;

Of the Devarshis, Narada; and Chitrarath of them

That sing in Heaven, and Kapila of Munis, and the gem

Of flying steeds, Uchchaisravas, from Amrit-wave which burst;

Of elephants Airâvata; of males the Best and First;

Of weapons Heav’n’s hot thunderbolt; of cows white Kâmadhuk,

From whose great milky udder-teats all hearts’ desires are strook;

Vâsuki of the serpent-tribes, round Mandara entwined;

And thousand-fanged Ananta, on whose broad coils reclined

Leans Vishnu; and of water-things Varuna; Aryam

Of Pitris, and, of those that judge, Yama the Judge I am;

Of Daityas dread Prahlâda; of what metes days and years,

Time’s self I am; of woodland-beasts—buffaloes, deers, and bears—

The lordly-painted tiger; of birds the vast Garûd,

The whirlwind ’mid the winds; ’mid chiefs Rama with blood imbrued,

Makar ’mid fishes of the sea, and Ganges ’mid the streams;

Yea! First, and Last, and Centre of all which is or seems

I am, Arjuna! Wisdom Supreme of what is wise,

Words on the uttering lips I am, and eyesight of the eyes,

And “A” of written characters, Dwandwa 5 of knitted speech,

And Endless Life, and boundless Love, whose power sustaineth each;

And bitter Death which seizes all, and joyous sudden Birth,

Which brings to light all beings that are to be on earth;

And of the viewless virtues, Fame, Fortune, Song am I,

And Memory, and Patience; and Craft, and Constancy:

Of Vedic hymns the Vrihatsâm, of metres Gayatrî,

Of months the Mârgasirsha, of all the seasons three

The flower-wreathed Spring; in dicer’s-play the conquering Double-Eight;

The splendor of the splendid, and the greatness of the great,

Victory I am, and Action! and the goodness of the good,

And Vâsudev of Vrishni’s race, and of this Pandu brood

Thyself!—Yea, my Arjuna! thyself; for thou art Mine!

Of poets Usana, of saints Vyâsa, sage divine;

The policy of conquerors, the potency of kings,

The great unbroken silence in learning’s secret things;

The lore of all the learnèd, the seed of all which springs.

Living or lifeless, still or stirred, whatever beings be,

None of them is in all the worlds, but it exists by Me!

Nor tongue can tell, Arjuna! nor end of telling come

Of these My boundless glories, whereof I teach thee some;

For wheresoe’er is wondrous work, and majesty, and might,

From Me hath all proceeded. Receive thou this aright!

Yet how shouldst thou receive, O Prince! the vastness of this word—

I, who am all, and made it all, abide its separate Lord!

Here endeth Chapter X. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Vibhuti Yôg,” or “The Book of

Religion by the Heavenly Perfections”

Note 1. The Sanskrit poem here rises to an elevation of style and manner which I have endeavored to mark by change of metre.

Note 2. Ahinsâ.

Note 3. The nectar of immortality.

Note 4. Called “The Jap.”

Note 5. The compound form of Sanskrit words.

Chapter XI

ARJUNA:

THIS, for my soul’s peace, have I heard from Thee,

The unfolding of the Mystery Supreme

Named Adhyâtman; comprehending which,

My darkness is dispelled; for now I know—

O Lotus-eyed! 1—whence is the birth of men,

And whence their death, and what the majesties

Of thine immortal rule. Fain would I see,

As thou Thyself declar’st it, Sovereign Lord!

The likeness of that glory of Thy Form

Wholly revealed. O Thou Divinest One!

If this can be, if I may bear the sight,

Make Thyself visible, Lord of all prayers!

Show me Thy very self, the Eternal God!

KRISHNA:

Gaze, then, thou Son of Prithâ! I manifest for thee

Those hundred thousand thousand shapes that clothe my Mystery:

I show thee all my semblances, infinite, rich, divine,

My changeful hues, my countless forms. See! in this face of mine,

Adityas, Vasus, Rudras, Aswins, and Maruts; see

Wonders unnumbered, Indian Prince! revealed to none save thee.

Behold! this is the Universe!—Look! what is live and dead

I gather all in one—in Me! Gaze, as thy lips have said,

On GOD ETERNAL, VERY GOD! See ME! see what thou prayest!

Thou canst not!—nor, with human eyes, Arjuna! ever mayest

Therefore I give thee sense divine. Have other eyes, new light!

And, look! This is My glory, unveiled to mortal sight!

SANJAYA:

Then, O King! the God, so saying,

Stood, to Prithâ’s Son displaying

All the splendor, wonder, dread

Of His vast Almighty-head.

Out of countless eyes beholding,

Out of countless mouths commanding,

Countless mystic forms enfolding

In one Form: supremely standing

Countless radiant glories wearing,

Countless heavenly weapons bearing,

Crowned with garlands of star-clusters,

Robed in garb of woven lustres,

Breathing from His perfect Presence

Breaths of all delicious essence

Of all sweetest odors; shedding

Blinding brilliance, overspreading—

Boundless, beautiful—all spaces

From His all-regarding faces;

So He showed! If there should rise

Suddenly within the skies

Sunburst of a thousand suns

Flooding earth with rays undeemed-of,

Then might be that Holy One’s

Majesty and glory dreamed of!

So did Pandu’s Son behold

All this universe enfold

All its huge diversity

Into one great shape, and be

Visible, and viewed, and blended

In one Body—subtle, splendid,

Nameless—th’ All-comprehending

God of Gods, the Never-Ending

Deity!

But, sore amazed,

Thrilled, o’erfilled, dazzled, and dazed,

Arjuna knelt, and bowed his head,

And clasped his palms, and cried, and said:

ARJUNA:

Yea! I have seen! I see!

Lord! all is wrapped in Thee!

The gods are in Thy glorious frame! the creatures

Of earth, and heaven, and hell

In Thy Divine form dwell,

And in Thy countenance show all the features

Of Brahma, sitting lone

Upon His lotus-throne;

Of saints and sages, and the serpent races

Ananta, Vâsuki.

Yea! mightiest Lord! I see

Thy thousand thousand arms, and breasts, and faces,

And eyes,—on every side

Perfect, diversified;

And nowhere end of Thee, nowhere beginning,

Nowhere a centre! Shifts

Wherever soul’s gaze lifts

Thy central Self, all-willing, and all-winning!

Infinite King! I see

The anadem on Thee,

The club, the shell, the discus; see Thee burning

In beams insufferable,

Lighting earth, heaven, and hell

With brilliance blinding, glorious, flashing, turning

Darkness to dazzling day,

Look I whichever way.

Ah, Lord! I worship Thee, the Undivided,

The Uttermost of thought,

The Treasure-Palace wrought

To hold the wealth of the worlds; the shield provided

To shelter Virtue’s laws;

The Fount whence Life’s stream draws

All waters of all rivers of all being:

The One Unborn, Unending:

Unchanging and unblending!

With might and majesty, past thought, past seeing!

Silver of moon and gold

Of sun are glances rolled

From Thy great eyes; Thy visage beaming tender

Over the stars and skies,

Doth to warm life surprise

Thy Universe. The worlds are filled with wonder

Of Thy perfections! Space

Star-sprinkled, and the place

From pole to pole of the heavens, from bound to bound,

Hath Thee in every spot,

Thee, Thee!—Where Thou art not

O Holy, Marvellous Form! is nowhere found!

O Mystic, Awful One!

At sight of Thee, made known,

The Three Worlds quake; the lower gods draw nigh Thee;

They fold their palms, and bow

Body, and breast, and brow,

And, whispering worship, laud and magnify Thee!

Rishis and Siddhas cry

“Hail! Highest Majesty!”

From sage and singer breaks the hymn of glory

In holy melody,

Sounding the praise of Thee,

While countless companies take up the story,

Rudras, who rides the storms,

Th’ Adityas’ shining forms,

Vasus and Sâdhyas, Viswas, Ushmapas,

Maruts, and those great Twins,

The heavenly, fair, Aswins,

Gandharvas, Rakshasas, Siddhas, Asuras,—

These see Thee, and revere

In silence-stricken fear;

Yea! the Worlds,—seeing Thee with form stupendous,

With faces manifold,

With eyes which all behold,

Unnumbered eyes, vast arms, members tremendous,

Flanks, lit with sun and star,

Feet planted near and far,

Tushes of terror, mouths wrathful and tender;—

The Three wide Worlds before Thee

Adore, as I adore Thee,

Quake, as I quake, to witness so much splendor!

I mark Thee strike the skies

With front in wondrous wise

Huge, rainbow-painted, glittering; and thy mouth

Opened, and orbs which see

All things, whatever be,

In all Thy worlds, east, west, and north and south.

O Eyes of God! O Head!

My strength of soul is fled,

Gone is heart’s force, rebuked is mind’s desire!

When I behold Thee so,

With awful brows a-glow,

With burning glance, and lips lighted with fire,

Fierce as those flames which shall

Consume, at close of all,

Earth, Heaven! Ah me! I see no Earth and Heaven!

Thee, Lord of Lords! I see,

Thee only—only Thee!

Ah! let Thy mercy unto me be given!

Thou Refuge of the World!

Lo! to the cavern hurled

Of Thy wide-opened throat, and lips white-tushed,

I see our noblest ones,

Great Dhritarashtra’s sons,

Bhishma, Drona, and Karna, caught and crushed!

The Kings and Chiefs drawn in,

That gaping gorge within;

The best of all both armies torn and riven!

Between Thy jaws they lie

Mangled fell bloodily,

Ground into dust and death! Like streams down driven

With helpless haste, which go

In headlong furious flow

Straight to the gulfing maw of th’ unfilled ocean,

So to that flaming cave

These heroes great and brave

Pour, in unending streams, with helpless motion!

Like months which in the night

Flutter towards a light,

Drawn to their fiery doom, flying and dying,

So to their death still throng,

Blind, dazzled, borne along

Ceaselessly, all these multitudes, wild flying!

Thou, that hast fashioned men,

Devourest them agen,

One with another, great and small, alike!

The creatures whom Thou mak’st,

With flaming jaws Thou tak’st,

Lapping them up! Lord God! Thy terrors strike

From end to end of earth,

Filling life full, from birth

To death, with deadly, burning, lurid dread!

Ah, Vishnu! make me know

Why is Thy visage so—

Who art Thou, feasting thus upon Thy dead—

Who— awful Deity!

I bow myself to Thee,

Nâmostu Tê Devavara! Prasîd! 2

O Mightiest Lord! rehearse

Why hast Thou face so fierce—

Whence did this aspect horrible proceed—

KRISHNA:

Thou seest Me as Time who kills, Time who brings all to doom,

The Slayer Time, Ancient of Days, come hither to consume;

Excepting thee, of all these hosts of hostile chiefs arrayed,

There shines not one shall leave alive the battlefield! Dismayed

No longer be! Arise! obtain renown! destroy thy foes!

Fight for the kingdom waiting thee when thou hast vanquished those.

By Me they fall—not thee! the stroke of death is dealt them now,

Even as they stand thus gallantly; My instrument art thou!

Strike, strong-armed Prince! at Drona! at Bhishma strike! deal death

To Karna, Jyadratha; stay all this warlike breath!

’Tis I who bid them perish! Thou wilt but slay the slain.

Fight! they must fall, and thou must live, victor upon this plain!

SANJAYA:

Hearing mighty Keshav’s word,

Tremblingly that helmèd Lord

Clasped his lifted palms, and—praying

Grace of Krishna—stood there, saying,

With bowed brow and accents broken,

These words, timorously spoken:

ARJUNA:

Worthily, Lord of Might!

The whole world hath delight

In Thy surpassing power, obeying Thee;

The Rakshasas, in dread

At sight of Thee, are sped

To all four quarters; and the company

Of Siddhas sound Thy name.

How should they not proclaim

Thy Majesties, Divinest, Mightiest—

Thou Brahm, than Brahma greater!

Thou Infinite Creator!

Thou God of gods, Life’s Dwelling-place and Rest!

Thou, of all souls the Soul!

The Comprehending Whole!

Of Being formed, and formless Being the Framer;

O Utmost One! O Lord!

Older than eld, Who stored

The worlds with wealth of life. O Treasure-claimed.

Who wottest all, and art

Wisdom Thyself! O Part

In all, and all, for all from Thee have risen!

Numberless now I see

The aspects are of Thee!

Vayu 3 Thou art, and He who keeps the prison

Of Narak, Yama dark,

And Agni’s shining spark.

Varuna’s waves are Thy waves. Moon and star-light

Are Thine! Prajâpati

Art Thou, and ’tis to Thee

Men kneel in worshipping the old world’s far light,

The first of mortal men.

Again, Thou God! again

A thousand thousand times be magnified!

Honor and worship be—

Glory and praise,—to Thee

Namô, Namastê, cried on every side.

Cried here, above, below,

Uttered when Thou dost go,

Uttered when Thou dost come! Namô! we call.

Namôstu! God adored!

Namôstu! Nameless Lord!

Hail to Thee! Praise to Thee! Thou One in all.

For Thou art All! Yea, Thou!

Ah! if in anger now

Thou shouldst remember I did think Thee Friend,

Speaking with easy speech,

As men use each to each;

Did call Thee “Krishna,” “Prince,” nor comprehend

Thy hidden majesty,

The might, the awe of Thee;

Did, in my heedlessness, or in my love,

On journey, or in jest,

Or when we lay at rest,

Sitting at council, straying in the grove,

Alone, or in the throng,

Do Thee, most Holy wrong,

Be Thy grace granted for that witless sin!

For Thou art now I know,

Father of all below,

Of all above, of all the worlds within,

Guru of Gurus, more

To reverence and adore

Than all which is adorable and high!

How, in the wide worlds three

Should any equal be—

Shall any other share Thy majesty—

Therefore, with body bent

And reverent intent,

I praise, and serve, and seek Thee, asking grace.

As father to a son,

As friend to friend, as one

Who loveth to his lover, turn Thy face

In gentleness on me!

Good is it I did see

This unknown marvel of Thy Form! But fear

Mingles with joy! Retake,

Dear Lord! for pity’s sake

Thine earthly shape, which earthly eyes may bear!

Be merciful, and show

The visage that I know;

Let me regard Thee, as of yore, arrayed

With disc and forehead-gem,

With mace and anedem,

Thou who sustainest all things! Undismayed

Let me once more behold

The form I loved of old,

Thou of the thousand arms and countless eyes!

My frightened heart is fain

To see restored again

The Charioteer, my Krishna’s kind disguise.

KRISHNA:

Yea! thou hast seen, Arjuna! because I loved thee well,

The secret countenance of Me, revealed by mystic spell,

Shining, and wonderful, and vast, majestic, manifold,

Which none save thou in all the years had favor to behold:

For not by Vedas cometh this, nor sacrifice, nor alms,

Nor works well-done, nor penance long, nor prayers nor chaunted psalms,

That mortal eyes should bear to view the Immortal Soul unclad,

Prince of the Kurus! This was kept for thee alone! Be glad!

Let no more trouble shake thy heart because thine eyes have seen

My terror with My glory. As I before have been

So will I be again for thee; with lightened heart behold!

Once more I am thy Krishna, the form thou knew’st of old!

SANJAYA:

These words to Arjuna spake

Vâsudev, and straight did take

Back again the semblance dear

Of the well-loved charioteer;

Peace and joy it did restore

When the Prince beheld once more

Mighty BRAHMA’s form and face

Clothed in Krishna’s gentle grace.

ARKUNA:

Now that I see come back, Janardana!

This friendly human frame, my mind can think

Calm thoughts once more; my heart beats still again!

KRISHNA:

Yea! it was wonderful and terrible

To view me as thou didst, dear Prince! The gods

Dread and desire continually to view!

Yet not by Vedas, nor from sacrifice,

Nor penance, nor gift-giving, nor with prayer

Shall any so behold, as thou hast seen!

Only by fullest service, perfect faith,

And uttermost surrender am I known

And seen, and entered into, Indian Prince!

Who doeth all for Me; who findeth Me

In all; adoreth always; loveth all

Which I have made, and Me, for Love’s sole end,

That man, Arjuna! unto Me doth wend.

Here endeth Chapter XI. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Viswarupdarsanam,” or “The Book

of the Manifesting of the One

and Manifold”

Note 1. “Kamalapatrâksha.”

Note 2. “Hail to Thee, God of Gods! Be favorable!”

Note 3. The wind.

Chapter XII

ARJUNA:

LORD! of the men who serve Thee—true in heart—

As God revealed; and of the men who serve,

Worshipping Thee Unrevealed, Unbodied, far,

Which take the better way of faith and life—

KRISHNA:

Whoever serve Me—as I show Myself—

Constantly true, in full devotion fixed,

These hold I very holy. But who serve—

Worshipping Me The One, The Invisible,

The Unrevealed, Unnamed, Unthinkable,

Uttermost, All-pervading, Highest, Sure—

Who thus adore Me, mastering their sense,

Of one set mind to all, glad in all good,

These blessed souls come unto Me.

Yet, hard

The travail is for whoso bend their minds

To reach th’ Unmanifest. That viewless path

Shall scarce be trod by man bearing his flesh!

But whereso any doeth all his deeds,

Renouncing self in Me, full of Me, fixed

To serve only the Highest, night and day

Musing on Me—him will I swiftly lift

Forth from life’s ocean of distress and death

Whose soul clings fast to Me. Cling thou to Me!

Clasp Me with heart and mind! so shalt thou dwell

Surely with Me on high. But if thy thought

Droops from such height; if thou be’st weak to set

Body and soul upon Me constantly,

Despair not! give Me lower service! seek

To read Me, worshipping with steadfast will;

And, if thou canst not worship steadfastly,

Work for Me, toil in works pleasing to Me!

For he that laboreth right for love of Me

Shall finally attain! But, if in this

Thy faint heart fails, bring Me thy failure! find

Refuge in Me! let fruits of labor go,

Renouncing all for Me, with lowliest heart,

So shalt thou come; for, though to know is more

Than diligence, yet worship better is

Than knowing, and renouncing better still

Near to renunciation—very near—

Dwelleth Eternal Peace!

Who hateth nought

Of all which lives, living himself benign,

Compassionate, from arrogance exempt,

Exempt from love of self, unchangeable

By good or ill; patient, contented, firm

In faith, mastering himself, true to his word,

Seeking Me, heart and soul; vowed unto Me,—

That man I love! Who troubleth not his kind,

And is not troubled by them; clear of wrath,

Living too high for gladness, grief, or fear,

That man I love! Who, dwelling quiet-eyed, 1

Stainless, serene, well-balanced, unperplexed,

Working with Me, yet from all works detached,

That man I love! Who, fixed in faith on Me,

Dotes upon none, scorns none; rejoices not,

And grieves not, letting good and evil hap

Light when it will, and when it will depart,

That man I love! Who, unto friend and foe

Keeping an equal heart, with equal mind

Bears shame and glory, with an equal peace

Takes heat and cold, pleasure and pain; abides

Quit of desires, hears praise or calumny

In passionless restraint, unmoved by each,

Linked by no ties to earth, steadfast in Me,

That man I love! But most of all I love

Those happy ones to whom ’tis life to live

In single fervid faith and love unseeing,

Eating the blessèd Amrit of my Being!

Here endeth Chapter XII. of the Bhagavad-Gîtâ,

entitled “Bhakityôgô,” or “The Book of

the Religion of Faith”

Note 1. “Not peering about,”—anapeksha.

Chapter XIII

ARJUNA:

NOW would I hear, O gracious Kesava! 1

Of Life which seems, and Soul beyond, which sees,

And what it is we know—or seem to know.

KRISHNA:

Yea! Son of Kunti! for this flesh ye see

Is Kshetra, is the field where Life disports;

And that which views and knows it is the Soul,

Kshetrajna. In all “fields,” thou Indian prince!

I am Kshetrajna. I am what surveys!

Only that knowledge knows which knows the known

By the knower! 2 What it is, that “field” of life,

What qualities it hath, and whence it is,

And why it changeth, and the faculty

That wotteth it, the mightiness of this,

And how it wotteth—hear these things from Me! 3

The elements, the conscious life, the mind,

The unseen vital force, the nine great gates

Of the body, or the five domains of sense,

Desire, dislike, pleasure and pain, and thought

Deep-woven, and persistency of being;

These all are wrought on matter by the Soul!

Humbleness, truthfulness, and harmlessness,

Patience and honor, reverence for the wise,

Purity, constancy, control of self,

Contempt of sense-delights, self-sacrifice,

Perception of the certitude of ill

In birth, death, aye, disease, suffering, and sin;

Detachment, lightly holding unto home,

Children, and wife, and all that bindeth men;

An ever-tranquil heart in fortunes good

And fortunes evil, with a will set firm

To worship Me—Me only! ceasing not;

Loving all solitudes, and shunning noise

Of foolish crowds; endeavors resolute

To reach perception of the Utmost Soul,

And grace to understand what gain it were

So to attain,—this is true Wisdom, Prince!

And what is otherwise is ignorance!

Now will I speak of knowledge best to know—

That Truth which giveth man Amrit to drink,

The Truth of HIM, the Para-Brahm, the All,

The Uncreated; not Asat, not Sat,

Not Form, nor the Unformed; yet both, and more;—

Whose hands are everywhere, and everywhere

Planted His feet, and everywhere, His eyes

Beholding, and His ears in every place

Hearing, and all His faces everywhere

Enlightening and encompassing His worlds.

Glorified by the senses He hath given,

Yet beyond sense He is; sustaining all,

He dwelleth unattached: of forms and modes

Master, yet neither form nor mode hath He;

He is within all beings—and without—

Motionless, yet still moving; not discerned

For subtlety of instant presence; close

To all, to each, yet measurelessly far!

Not manifold, and yet subsisting still

In all which lives; for ever to be known

As the Sustainer, yet, at the End of Times,

He maketh all to end—and re-creates.

The Light of Lights He is, in the heart of the Dark

Shining eternally. Wisdom He is

And Wisdom’s way, and Guide of all the wise,

Planted in every heart.

So have I told

Of Life’s stuff, and the moulding, and the lore

To comprehend. Whoso, adoring Me,

Perceiveth this, shall surely come to Me!

Know thou that Nature and the Spirit both

Have no beginning! Know that qualities

And changes of them are by Nature wrought;

That Nature puts to work the acting frame,

But Spirit doth inform it, and so cause

Feeling of pain and pleasure. Spirit, linked

To moulded matter, entereth into bond

With qualities by Nature framed, and, thus

Married to matter, breeds the birth again

In good or evil yonis. 4

Yet is this—

Yea! in its bodily prison!—Spirit pure,

Spirit supreme; surveying, governing,

Guarding, possessing; Lord and Master still

PURUSHA, Ultimate, One Soul with Me.

Whoso thus knows himself, and knows his soul

PURUSHA, working through the qualities

With Nature’s modes, the light hath come for him!

Whatever flesh he bears, never again

Shall he take on its load. Some few there be

By meditation find the Soul in Self

Self-schooled; and some by long philosophy

And holy life reach thither; some by works.

Some, never so attaining, hear of light

From other lips, and seize, and cleave to it

Worshipping; yea! and those—to teaching true—

Overpass Death!

Wherever, Indian Prince!

Life is—of moving things, or things unmoved,

Plant or still seed—know, what is there hath grown

By bond of Matter and of Spirit: Know

He sees indeed who sees in all alike

The living, lordly Soul; the Soul Supreme,

Imperishable amid the Perishing:

For, whoso thus beholds, in every place,

In every form, the same, one, Living Lord,

Doth no more wrongfulness unto himself,

But goes the highest road which brings to bliss.

Seeing, he sees, indeed, who sees that works

Are Nature’s wont, for Soul to use, not love,

Acting, yet not the actor; sees the mass

Of separate living things—each of its kind—

Issue from One, and blend again to One:

Then hath he BRAHMA, he attains!

O Prince!

That Ultimate, High Spirit, Uncreate,

Unqualified, even when it entereth flesh

Taketh no stain of acts, worketh in nought!

Like to th’ ethereal air, pervading all,

Which, for sheer subtlety, avoideth taint,

The subtle Soul sits everywhere, unstained:

Like to the light of the all-piercing sun

[Which is not changed by aught it shines upon,]

The Soul’s light shineth pure in every place;

And they who, by such eye of wisdom see