Indian Idylls E-Book

Edwin Arnold

• Herausgeber: Phoemixx Classics Ebooks
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 219

Beschreibung

Indian Idylls Edwin Arnold - A collection of selections from the Mahâbhârata: Sâvitrî; Or, Love And Death; Nala And Damayanti; The Enchanted Lake; The Saint's Temptation; The Birth Of Death; The Night Of Slaughter; The Great Journey; and, The Entry Into Heaven.

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Edwin Arnold

Indian Idylls

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Preface

Some time ago I wrote and published, in a paper entitled "The Iliad and Odyssey of India," the following passages:-

"There exist two colossal, two unparalleled, epic poems in the sacred language of India, -the Mahâbhârata and the Râmâyana, -which were not known to Europe, even by name, until Sir William Jones announced their existence; and one of which, the larger, since his time, has been made public only by fragments, by mere specimens, hearing to those vast treasures of Sanskrit literature such small proportion as cabinet samples of ore have to the riches of a mine. Yet these most remarkable poems contain almost all the history of ancient India, so far as it can be recovered; together with such inexhaustible details of its political, social, and religious life, that the antique Hindu world really stands epitomized in them.

The Old Testament is not more interwoven with the Jewish race, nor the New Testament with the civilization of Christendom, nor the Koran with the records and destinies of Islam, than are these two Sanskrit poems with that unchanging and teeming Population which Her Majesty, Queen Victoria, rules as Empress of Hindustan. The stories, songs, and ballads; the histories and genealogies; the nursery tales and religious discourses; the art; the learning, the philosophy, the creeds, the moralities, the modes of thought, the very phrases, saying, turns of expression, and daily ideas of the Hindu people are taken from these poems. Their children and their wives are named out of them; so are their cities, temples, streets, and cattle.

They have constituted the library, the newspaper, and the Bible-generation after generation-for all the succeeding and countless millions of Indian people; and it replaces patriotism with that race, and, stands in stead of nationality, to possess these two precious and inexhaustible books, and to drink from them as from mighty and overflowing rivers. The value ascribed in Hindustan to these too little known epics has transcended all literary standards established in the West. They are personified, worshipped, and cited as being something divine.

To read or even listen to them is thought by the devout Hindu sufficiently meritorious to bring prosperity to his household here, and happiness in the next world; they are held also to give wealth to the poor, health to the sick, wisdom to the ignorant; and the recitation of certain parvas and shlokas in them can fill the household of the barren, it is believed, with children. A concluding passage of the great poem says:-

"'The reading of this Mahâbhârata destroys all sin and produces virtue; so much so, that the pronunciation of a single shloka is sufficient to wipe away much guilt. This Mahâbhârata contains the history of the gods, of the Rishis in heaven and those on earth, of the Gandharvas and the Rákshasas. It also contains the life and actions of the one God, holy, immutable, and true,-who is Krishna, who is the creator and the ruler of this universe; who is seeking the welfare of his creation by means of his incomparable and indestructible power; whose actions are celebrated by all sages; who has bound human beings in a chain, of which one end is life and the other death; on whom the Rishis meditate, and a knowledge of whom imparts unalloyed happiness to their hearts, and for whose gratification and favor all the daily devotions are performed by all worshippers. If a man reads the Mahâbhârata and has faith in its doctrines, he is free from all sin, and ascends to heaven after his death.'"

The present volume contains such translation, as have from time to time made out of this prodigious epic, which is seven-fold greater in bulk than the Illiad and Odyssey taken together. All the stories here extracted are new to English literature, with the exception of a few passages of the Sâvitrî and the "Nala and Damayanti," which was long ago most faithfully rendered by Dean Milman, the version being published side by side with a clear and excellent Sanskrit text edited by Professor Monier Williams, C. I. E. But that presentation of the beautiful and brilliant legend - with all its conspicuous merits - seems better adapted to aid the student than adequately to reproduce the swift march of narrative, and old-world charm of the Indian tale, which I, also, have therefore ventured to transcribe; with all deference and gratitude to my predecessors.

I believe certain portions of the mighty poem which here appear, and many other episodes, to be of far greater antiquity than has been ascribed to the Mahâbhârata generally. Doubtless the "two hundred and twenty thousand lines" of the entire compilation contain in many places little and large additions and corrections, interpolated in Brahmanic or post- Buddhistic times; and he who ever so slightly explores this poetical ocean will, indeed, perceive defects, excrescences, differences, and breaks of artistic style or structure. But in the simpler and nobler sections the Sanskrit verse (ofttimes as musical and highly wrought as Homer's own Greek) bears, as I think, testimony-by evidence too long and recondite for citation here-to an origin anterior to writing, anterior to Purânic theology, anterior to Homer, perhaps even to Moses.

EDWIN ARNOLD.

LONDON, August, 1883.

Sâvitrî; Or, Love And Death

(FROM THE VANA PARVA OF THE MAHÂBHÂRATA-

PAGE 803, LINE 16616. CALCUTTA QUARTO EDITION)

"I mourn not for myself'," quoth Yudhisthir,"Nor for my hero-brothers; but becauseDraupadi hath been taken from us now.Never was seen or known another such,As queenly, true, and faithful to her vows,As Draupadi."

Then said Markandya:Wilt thou hear, Prince, of such another soul,Wherein the nobleness of DraupadiDwell, of old days,- the Princess Sâvitrî?

THERE was a Raja, pious-minded, just,King of the Mâdras,-valiant, wise, and true;Victorious over sense, a worshipper;Liberal in giving, prudent., dear alikeTo peasant and to townsman; one whose joyLived in the weal of all men-Aswapati -Patient, and free of any woe, he reigned,Save that his manhood passing, left him ]one,A childless lord; for this he grieved; for thisHeavy observances he underwent,Subduing needs of flesh, and oftentimesMaking high sacrifice to Sâvitrî;While, for all food, at each sixth watch he tookA little measured dole; and thus he didThrough sixteen years, most excellent of KingsTill at the last, divinest SâvitrîGrew well-content, and, taking shining shape,Rose through the flames of sacrifice and showedUnto that prince her heavenly countenance."Raja," the Goddess said - the Gift-bringer -Thy piety, thy purity, thy fasts,The largesse of thy hands, thy heart's wide love,Thy strength of faith, have pleased me. Choose some boon.Thy dearest wish, Monarch of Mâdra, ask;It is not meet such merit go in vain."

The Raja answered: "Goddess, for the sakeOf children I did bear these heavy vows:If thou art well-content, grant me, I pray,Fair babes, continuers of my royal line;This is the boon I choose, obeying law:For - say the holy seers - the first great lawIs that a man leave seed."

The Goddess said:I knew thine answer, Raja, ere it came;And He, the Maker of all, hath heard my wordThat this might be. The self-existent OneConsenteth. Born there shall be unto theeA girl more sweet than any eyes have seen;There is not found on earth so fair a maidI that rejoice in the Great Father's willKnow this and tell thee."

"Oh, so may it beThe Raja cried, once and again; and she,The Goddess, smiled anew, and vanished so.-While Aswapati to his palace went.'there dwelled he, doing justice to all folk;Till, when the hour was good, the wise King layWith her that was his first and fairest wife,And she conceived a girl (a girl, my liegeBetter than many boys), which wonder grewIn darkness, - as the Moon among the starsGrows from a ring of silver to a roundIn the month's waxing days, - and when time cameThe Queen a daughter bore, with lotus-eyes,Lovely of mould. joyous that Raja madeThe birth-feast; and because the fair gift fellFrom Sâvitrî the Goddess, and becauseIt was her day of sacrifice, they gaveThe name of "Sâvitrî" unto the child.

In grace and beauty grew the maid, as ifLakshmi's own self had taken woman's form.And when swift years her gracious youth made ripe,Like to an image of dark gold she seemedGleaming, with waist so fine, and breasts so deep,And limbs so rounded. When she moved, all eyesGazed after her, as though an ApsaraHad lighted out of Swarga. Not one dared,Of all the noblest lords, to ask for wifeThat miracle, with eyes purple and softAs lotus-petals, that pure perfect maid,Whose face shed heavenly light where she did go.

Once she had fasted, laved her head, and bowedBefore the shrine of Agni, - as is meet,And sacrificed, and spoken what is setUnto the Brahmans - taking at their handsThe unconsumed offerings, and so passedInto her father's presence - bright as 'Sri,If 'Sri were woman! - Meekly at his feetShe laid the blossoms; meekly bent her head,Folded her palms, and stood, radiant with grace,Beside the Raja. He, beholding herCome to her growth, and thus divinely fair,Yet sued of none, was grieved at heart and spake"Daughter, 'tis time we wed thee, but none comesAsking thee; therefore, thou thyself some youthChoose for thy lord, a virtuous prince: whosoIs dear to thee, he shall be dear to meFor this the rule is- by the sages taughtHear the commandment, noble maid - 'That sireWho giveth not his child in marriageIs blamable; and blamable that kingWho weddeth not; and blamable that sonWho, when his father dieth, guardeth notHis mother.' Heeding this," the Raja said,Haste thee to choose, and so choose that I bearNo guilt, dear child, before the all-seeing Gods."

Thus spake he - from the royal presence thenElders and ministers dismissing. She,Sweet Sâvitrî, -low lying at his feet,With soft shame heard her father, and obeyed.

Then, on a bright car mounting, companiedBy ministers and sages, SâvitrîJourneyed through groves and pleasant woodland-townsWhere pious princes dwelled, in every spotPaying meet homage at the Brahmans' feet;And so from forest unto forest passed,In all the Tirthas making offerings:Thus did the Princess visit place by place.

THE King of Mâdra sat among his lordsWith Narada beside him, counselling:When - (son of Bhârat!) entered SâvitrîFrom passing through each haunt and hermitage,Returning with those sages. At the sightOf Narad seated by the Raja's side,Humbly she touched the earth before their feetWith bended forehead.

Then spake Narada:"Whence cometh thy fair child? and wherefore, King,Being so ripe in beauty, giv'st thou notThe Princess to a husband?"

"Even for thatShe journeyed," quoth the Raja; "being come,Hear for thyself, great Rishi, what high lordMy daughter chooseth." Then, being bid to speakOf Narad and the Raja, SâvitrîSoftly said this: " In Chalva reigned a prince,Lordly and just, Dyumutsena named,Blind, and his only son not come to age;And this sad king an enemy betrayedAbusing his infirmity, wherebyOf throne and kingdom was that king bereft;And with his queen and son, a banished man,He fled into the wood; and, 'neath its shades,A life of holiness cloth daily lead.This Raja's son, born in the court, but bred'Midst forest peace, - royal of blood, and namedPrince Satyavan, - to him my choice is given."

"Aho!" cried Narad, "evil is this choiceWhich Sâvitrî hath made, who, knowing not,Doth name the noble Satyavan her lord:For, noble is the Prince, sprung of a pairSo just and faithful found in word and deedThe Brahmans styled him 'Truth-born ' at his birth.Horses he loved, and ofttimes would he mouldCoursers of clay, or paint them on the wall;Therefore 'Chitraswa' was he also called."

Then spake the King: "By this he shall have grownBeing of so fair birth - either a princeOf valor, or a wise and patient saint."

Quoth Narad: "Like the sun is SatyavanFor grace and glory; like VrihaspatiFor counsel; like Mahendra's self for might;And hath the patience of th' all-bearing earth."

"Is he a liberal giver? " asked the King;Loveth he virtue? wears he noble airs?Goeth he like a prince, with sweet proud looks?"

"He is as glad to give, if he hath store,As Rantideva," Narada replied.Pious he is; and true as Shivi was,The son of Usinara; fair of form(Yayâti was not fairer); sweet of looks(The Aswins not more gracious); gallant, kind,Reverent, self-governed, gentle, equitable,Modest, and constant. justice lives in him,And Honor guides. Those who do love a manPraise him for manhood; they that seek a saintLaud him for purity, and passions tamed.""A prince thou showest us," the Raja said,"All virtues owning. Tell me of some faults,If fault he hath."

"None lives," quoth Narada.But some fault mingles with his qualitiesAnd Satyavan bears that he cannot mend.The blot which spoils his brightness, the defectForbidding yonder Prince, Raja, is this,'Tis fated he shall die after a year;Count from to-day one year, he perisheth!"

"My Sâvitrî," the King cried; "go, dear child,Some other husband choose. This hath one fault;But huge it is, and mars all nobleness:At the year's end he dies 'tis Narad's word,Whom the gods teach."

But Sâvitrî replied:Once falls a heritage; once a maid yieldsHer maidenhood; once doth a father say,Choose, I abide thy choice.' These three things done,Are done forever. Be my Prince to liveA year, or many years; be he so greatAs Narada hath said, or less than this;Once have I chosen him, and choose not twiceMy heart resolved, my mouth hath spoken it,My hand shall execute; -this is my mind!"

Quoth Narad: "Yea, her mind is fixed, O King,And none will turn her from the path of truth!Also the virtues of Prince SatyavanShall in no other man be found. Give thouThy child to him. I gainsay not."

TherewithThe Raja sighed: "Nay, what must be, must be.She speaketh sooth: and I will give my child,For thou our Guru art."

Narada said:Free be the gift of thy fair daughter, then;May happiness yet light! -Raja, I go."So went that sage, returning to his placeAnd the King bade the nuptials be prepared.

HE bade that all things be prepared, - the robes,The golden cups; and summoned priest and sage,Brahman and Rity-yaj and Purôhit;And, on a day named fortunate, set forthWith Sâvitrî. In the mid-wood they foundDyumutsena's sylvan court: the King,Alighting, paced with slow steps to the spotWhere sat the blind lord underneath a sâl,On mats woven of kusa grass. Then passedDue salutations; worship, as is meet: -All courteously the Raja spake his name,All courteously the blind King gave to himEarth, and a seat, and water in a jar;Then asked, " What, Maharaja, bringeth thee?"And Aswapati, answering, told him all.With eyes fixed full upon Prince SatyavanHe spake: "This is my daughter, SâvitrîTake her from me to be wife to thy son,According to the law; thou know'st the law.Dyumutsena said: " Forced from our throne,Wood-dwellers, hermits, keeping state no more,We follow right, and how would right be doneIf this most lovely lady we should houseHere, in our woods, unfitting home for her?Answered the Raja: " Grief and joy we know,And what is real and seeming, - she and INor fits this fear with our unshaken minds.Deny thou not the prayer of him who bowsIn friendliness before thee; put not byHis wish who comes well-minded unto thee;Thy stateless state shows noble; thou and IAre of one rank; take then this maid of mineTo be thy daughter, since she chooseth meThy Satyavan for son."

The blind lord spake:It was of old my wish to grow akin,Raja, with thee, by marriage of our blood;But ever have I answered to myself,'Nay, for thy realm is lost , - forego this hopeYet now, so let it be, since so thou wilt;My welcome guest thou art. Thy will is mine."

Then gathered in the forest all those priests,And with due rites the royal houses boundBy nuptial tie. And when the Raja sawHis daughter, as befits a princess, wed,Home went he, glad. And glad was Satyavan,Winning that beauteous spouse, with all gifts richAnd she rejoiced to be the wife of him,So chosen of her soul. But when her sireDeparted, from her neck and arms she strippedjewels and gold, and o'er her radiant formFolded the robe of bark and yellow clothWhich hermits use; and all hearts did she gainBy gentle actions, soft self-government,Patience, and peace. The Queen had joy of herFor tender services and mindful cares;The blind King took delight to know her daysSo holy, and her wise words so restrained;And with her lord in sweet converse she livedGracious and loving, dutiful and dear.

But while in the deep forest softly flowedThis quiet life of love and holiness,The swift moons sped - and always in the heartOf Sâvitrî, by day and night, there dweltThe words of Narada, - those dreadful words!

Now, when the pleasant days were passed, which broughtThe day of Doom, and Satyavan must die(For hour by hour the Princess counted them,Keeping the words of Narada in heart),Bethinking on the fourth noon he should die,She set herself to make the " Threefold Fast,"Three days and nights foregoing food and sleep;Which, when the King Dyumutsena heard,Sorrowful he arose, and spake her thus:"Daughter, a heavy task thou takest onHardly the saintliest soul might such abide."But Sâvitrî gave answer: "Have no heed:What I do set myself I will perform;The vow is made, and I shall keep the vow.""If it be made," quoth he, " it must be kept;We cannot bid thee break thy word, once given."With that the King forbade not, and she satStill, as though carved of wood, three days and nights.But when the third night passed, and brought the dayWhereon her lord must die, she rose betimes,Made offering on the altar flames, and sangSoftly the morning prayers; then, with clasped palmsLaid on her bosom, meekly came to greetThe King and Queen, and lowlily salute"The gray-haired Brahmans. Thereupon those saints -Resident in the woods - made answer mildUnto the Princess: " Be it well with thee,And with thy lord, for these good deeds of thine.""May it be well! " she answered; in her heartFull mournfully that hour of fate awaitingForetold of Narad.

Then they said to her:Daughter, thy vow is kept. Come, now, and eat."But Sâvitrî replied: " When the sun sinksThis evening, I will eat, - that is my vow."

So when they could not change her, afterwardCame Satyavan, the Prince, bound for the woods,An axe upon his shoulder; unto whomWistfully spake the Princess: "Dearest Lord,Go not alone to-day; let me come tooI cannot be apart from thee to-day."

"Why not 'to-day'?" quoth Satynvm. "The woodIs strange to thee, Belovèd, and its pathsRough for thy tender feet; besides, with fastThy soft limbs faint; how wilt thou walk with me?"

I am not weak nor weary," she replied,And I can walk. Say me not nay, sweet Lord,I have so great a heart to go with thee."

"If thou hast such good heart," answered the Prince,I shall say yea; but first entreat the leaveOf those we reverence, lest a wrong be done."So, pure and dutiful, she sought that place'Where sat the King and Queen, and, bending low,Murmured request: "My husband goeth straightTo the great forest, gathering fruits and flowers;I pray your leave that I may be with him.To make the Agnihôtra sacrificeFetcheth he those, and will not be gainsaid,But surely goeth. Let me go. A yearHath rolled since I did fare from th' hermitageTo see our groves in bloom. I have much willTo see them now."

The old King gently said:In sooth it is a year since she was givenTo be our son's wife, and I mind me notOf any boon the loving heart hath asked,Nor any one untimely word she spake;Let it be as she prayeth. Go, my child;Have care of Satyavan, and take thy way."

So, being permitted of them both, she went, -That beauteous lady, - at her husband's side,With aching heart, albeit her face was bright.Flower-laden trees her large eyes lighted on,Green glades where pea-fowl sported, crystal streams,And soaring hills whose green sides burned with bloom,Which oft the Prince would bid her gaze upon;But she as oft turned those great eyes from themTo look on him, her husband, who must die,(For always in her mind were Narad's words).And so she walked behind him, guarding him,Bethinking at what hour her lord must die,Her true heart torn in twain, one half to himClose-cleaving, one half watching if Death come.

THEN, having reached where woodland fruits did grow,They gathered those, and filled a basket full;And afterwards the Prince plied hard his axe,Cutting the sacred fuel. PresentlyThere crept a pang upon him; a fierce throeBurned through his brows, and, all a-sweat, he cameFeebly to Sâvitrî, and moaned: "O wife,I am thus suddenly too weak for work;My veins throb, Sâvitrî; my blood runs fire;It is as if a threefold fork were plungedInto my brain. Let me lie down, fair Love!Indeed, I cannot stand upon my feet."

Thereon that noble lady, hastening near,Stayed him, that would have fallen, with quick arms;And, sitting on the earth, laid her lord's headTenderly in her lap. So bent she, mute,Fanning his face, and thinking 'twas the dayThe hour - which Narad named - the sure fixed dateOf dreadful end - when, lo! before her roseA shade majestic. Red his garments were,His body vast and dark; like fiery sunsThe eyes which burned beneath his forehead-clothArmed was he with a noose, awful of mien.This Form tremendous stood by Satyavan,Fixing its gaze upon him. At the sightThe fearful Princess started to her feet.Heedfully laying on the grass his head,Up started she, with beating heart, and joinedHer palms for supplication, and spake thusIn accents tremulous: "Thou seem'st some godThy mien is more than mortal; make me knowWhat god thou art, and what thy purpose here."

And Yama said (the dreadful God of death)Thou art a faithful wife, O Sâvitrî,True to thy vows, pious, and dutiful;Therefore I answer thee. Yama I am!This Prince, thy lord, lieth at point to dieHim will I straightway bind and bear from life;This is my office, and for this I come."Then Sâvitrî spake sadly: "It is taught,Thy messengers are sent to fetch the dying;Why is it, Mightiest, thou art come thyself?

In pity of her love, the PitilessAnswered, - the King of all the Dead replied:"This was a Prince unparalleled, thy lordVirtuous as fair, a sea of goodly gifts,Not to be summoned by a meaner voiceThan Yama's own: therefore is Yama come."

With that the gloomy God fitted his noose,And forced forth from the Prince the soul of himSubtile, a thumb in length - which being reft,Breath stayed, blood stopped, the body's grace was gone,And all life's warmth to stony coldness turned.Then, binding it, the Silent Presence boreSatyavan's soul away toward the South.

But Sâvitrî the Princess followed him;Being so bold in wifely purity,So holy by her love: and so upheld,She followed him.

Presently Yama turned."Go back," quoth he; "pay him the funeral dues.Enough, O Sâvitrî! is wrought for love;Go back! too far already hast thou come."

Then Sâvitrî made answer: " I must goWhere my lord goes, or where my lord is borne;Nought other is my duty. Nay, I think,By reason of my vows, my servicesDone to the Gurus, and my faultless love,Grant but thy grace, I shall unhindered go.The sages teach that to walk seven steps,One with another, maketh good men friends;Beseech thee, let me say a verse to thee:-

Be master of thyself, if thou wilt beServant of Duty. Such as thou shalt seeNot self-subduing, do no deeds of goodIn youth or age, in household or in wood.But wise men know that virtue is best bliss,And all by some one way may reach to this.It needs not men should pass through orders fourTo come to knowledge: doing right is moreThan any learning; therefore sages sayBest and most excellent is Virtue's way.

Spake Yama then: "Return! yet I am movedBy those soft words; justly their accents fell,And sweet and reasonable was their sense.See, now, thou faultless one. Except this lifeI bear away, ask any boon from me;It shall not be denied."

Sâvitrî saidLet, then, the King, my husband's father, haveHis eyesight back, and be his strength restored,And let him live anew, strong as the sun."

"I give this gift," Yama replied: "thy wish,Blameless, shall be fulfilled. But now go back;Already art thou wearied, and our roadIs hard and long. Turn back, lest thou, too, die."

The Princess answered: "Weary am I not,So I walk nigh my lord. Where he is borne,Thither wend I. Most mighty of the gods,I follow whereso'er thou takest him.A verse in writ on this, if thou wouldst hear: -

There is nought better than to beWith noble souls in company:There is nought dearer than to wend