The Lord Buddha's Compassion

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The following is a poetic account of the first time in Prince Siddharta's

young life that he saw another being suffer. From "The Light of Asia", by

Edwin Arnold.

 

Michael

 

 

 

...And ever with the years

Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord,

Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves

To spread its shade afar; but hardly yet

Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears,

Save as strange names for things not felt by kings,

Nor ever to be felt.

 

But it befell

In the Royal garden on a day of spring,

A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north

To their nest-places on Himâla's breast.

Calling in love-notes down their snowy line

The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted;

And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince,

Pointed his bow, and loosed a wilful shaft

Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan

Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road,

So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed,

Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes.

Which seeing, Prince Siddârtha took the bird

Tenderly up, rested it in his lap --

Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha sits --

And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's fright,

Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick heart,

Caressed it into peace with light kind palms

As soft as plantain-leaves an hour unrolled;

And while the left hand held, the right hand drew

The cruel steel forth from the wound and laid

Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart.

Yet all so little knew the boy of pain

That curiously into his wrist he pressed

The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting,

And turned with tears to soothe his bird again.

 

Then some one came who said, "My Prince hath shot

A swan, which fell among the roses here,

He bids me pray you send it. Will you send?"

"Nay," quoth Siddârtha, "if the bird were dead

To send it to the slayer might be well,

But the swan lives; my cousin hath but killed

The god-like speed which throbbed in this white Wing."

And Devadatta answered, "The wild thing,

Living or dead, is his who fetched it down;

'Twas no man's in the clouds, but fall'n 'tis mine,

Give me my prize, fair Cousin." Then our Lord

Laid the swan's neck beside his own smooth cheek

And gravely spake, "Say no! the bird is mine,

The first of myriad things which shall be mine

By right of mercy and love's lordliness.

 

For now I know, by what within me stirs,

That I shall teach compassion unto men

And be a speechless world's interpreter,

Abating this accursed flood of woe,

Not man's alone; but, if the Prince disputes,

Let him submit this matter to the wise

And we will wait the word." So was it done;

In full divan the business had debate,

And many thought this thing and many that,

Till there arose an unknown priest who said,

"If life be aught, the savior of a life

Owns more the living thing than he can own

Who sought to slay -- the slayer spoils and wastes

The cherisher sustains, give him the bird:"

Which judgment all found just; but when the King

Sought out the sage for honor, he was gone;

And some one saw a hooded snake glide forth, --

The gods come ofttimes thus! So our Lord Buddh

Began his works of mercy...