But we poor Sudras cannot understand--
Yet from my earliest memory I've heard
That from this hill one day should burst a light,
Not for the Brahmans only, but for all.
And when you were a child I saw a sage
Bow down before you, calling you that light.
O noble, mighty prince! let your light shine,
That men no longer grope in dark despair!"
He spoke, and sank exhausted on the ground.
They gently raised him, but his life was fled.
The prince gave one a well-filled purse and said:
"Let his pile neither lack for sandal-wood
Or any emblem of a life well spent."
And when fit time had passed they bore him thence
And laid him on that couch where all sleep well,
Half hid in flowers by loving children brought,
A smile still lingering on his still, cold lips,
As if they just had tasted Gunga's kiss,
Soon to be kissed by eager whirling flames.
Just then two stately Brahmans proudly passed--
Passed on the other side, gathering their robes
To shun pollution from the common touch,
And passing said: "The prince with Sudras talks
As friend to friend--but wisdom comes with years."
Silent and thoughtful then they homeward turned,
The prince deep musing on the old man's words;
"'The veil is lifted, and I seem to see
A world of life and light and peace and rest.'
O if that veil would only lift for me
The mystery of life would be explained."
As they passed on through unfrequented streets,
Seeking to shun the busy, thoughtless throng,
Those other words like duty's bugle-call
Still ringing in his ears: "Let your light shine,
That men no longer grope in dark despair"--
The old sad thoughts, long checked by passing joys,
Rolling and surging, swept his troubled soul--
As pent-up waters, having burst their dams,
Sweep down the valleys and o'erwhelm the plains.
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