One night, when hope seemed yielding to despair,
Sleepless he lay upon the earth--his bed--
When suddenly a white and dazzling light
Shone through the cave, and all was dark again.
Startled he rose, then prostrate in the dust,
His inmost soul breathed forth an earnest prayer[1]
That he who made the light would make it shine
Clearer and clearer to that perfect day,
When innocence, and peace, and righteousness
Might fill the earth, and ignorance and fear,
And cruelty and crime, might fly away,
As birds of night and savage prowling beasts
Fly from the glories of the rising sun.
Long time he lay, wrestling in earnest prayer,
When from the eastern wall, one clothed in light,
Beaming with love, and halo-crowned, appeared,
And gently said: "Siddartha, rise! go forth!
Waste not your days in fasts, your nights in tears!
Give what you have; do what you find to do;
With gentle admonitions check the strong;
With loving counsels aid and guide the weak,
And light will come, the day will surely dawn."
This said, the light grew dim, the form was gone,
But hope revived, his heart was strong again.
Joyful he rose, and when the rising sun
Had filled the earth's dark places full of light,
With all his worldly wealth, his staff and bowl,
Obedient to that voice he left his cave;
When from a shepherd's cottage near his way,
Whence he had often heard the busy hum
Of industry, and childhood's merry laugh,
There came the angry, stern command of one
Clothed in a little brief authority,
Mingled with earnest pleadings, and the wail
Of women's voices, and above them all
The plaintive treble of a little child.
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