EDWIN ARNOLD

SIR EDWIN ARNOLD, poet and journalist, was born in England in 1832. He won a scholarship at Oxford, and received the Newdigate prize for poetry. In addition to his numerous poems he wrote a number of practical books on education and administration in India. "The Light of Asia" is his most famous work.

L

SERENADE

(The MacMillan Co., Publishers)

UTE! breathe thy lowest in my Lady's ear,
Sing while she sleeps, "Ah! belle dame,

aimexvous ? "

Till, dreaming still, she dream that I am here,
And wake to find it, as my love is, true;
Then, while she listens in her warm white nest,
Say in slow music,-softer, tenderer yet,
That lute-strings quiver when their tone's at rest
And my heart trembles when my lips are set.

Stars! if my sweet love still a-dreaming lies,
Shine through the roses for a lover's sake;
And send your silver to her lidded eyes,
Kissing them very gently till she wake;
Then, while she wonders at the lay and light,
Tell her, though morning endeth star and song,
That ye live still, when no star glitters bright,
And my love lasteth, though it find no tongue.

THE LIGHT OF ASIA

Yet not to love

Alone trusted the king; love's prison-house
Stately and beautiful he bade them build,
So that in all the earth no marvel was
Like Vishramvan, the prince's pleasure-pact.
Midway in those wide palace-grounds there rose
A verdant hill whose base Rohini bathed,
Murmuring adown from Himalay's broat feet.
To bear its tribute into Gunga's waves.

Southward is a growth of tamarind trees, and sâl
Thick set with pale sky-colored ganthi-flowers,
Shut out the world, save if the city's hum
Came on the wind no harsher than when bees
Hum out of sight in thickets. Northward soared
The stainless ramps of huge Himâla's wall,
Ranged in white ranks against the blue-untrod,
Infinite, wonderful-whose uplands vast,
And lifted universe of crest and crag,
Shoulder and shelf, green slope and icy horn,
Riven ravine, and splintered precipice

Led climbing thought higher and higher, until
It seemed to stand in heaven and speak with gods.

Fronting this
The builders set the bright pavilion up,

Fair-planted on the terraced hill, with towers
On either flank and pillared cloisters round.
It's beams were carved with stories of old time--
Radha and Krishna and the sylvan girls--

Sita and Hanuman and Draupadi;

And on the middle porch god Ganesha,

With disk and hook-to bring wisdom and wealth--
Propitious safe, wreathing his sidelong trunk.
By winding ways of garden and of court
The inner gate was reached, of marble wrought,

t

White with pink veins; the lintel lazuli,
The threshold alabaster, and the doors
Sandal-wood, cut in pictured panelling;
Whereby to lofty halls and shadowy bowers
Passed the delighted foot, on stately stairs,
Through latticed gallerys, 'neath painted roofs
And clustering columns, where cool fountains—
fringed

With lotus and nelumbo-danced, and fish

Gleamed through their crystal, scarlet, gold, and blue.

Great-eyed gazelles in sunny alcoves browsed

The blown red roses; birds of rainbow wing

Fluttered among the palms; doves, green and gray,
Built their safe nests on gilded cornices;

Over the shining pavements peacocks drew
The splendors of their trains, sedately watched
By milk-white herons and the small house-owls.
The plum-necked parrots swung from fruit to fruit
The yellow sun-birds whirred from bloom to bloom,
The timid lizards on the lattice basked

Fearless, the squirrels ran to feed from hand,
For all was peace: the shy black snake, that gives
Fortune to households, sunned his sleepy coils
Under the moon-flowers, where the musk-deer played
And brown-eyed monkeys chattered to the crows.
And all this house of love was peopied fair
With sweet attendance, so that in each part
With lovely sights were gentle faces found.
Soft speech and willing service, each one glad
To gladden, pleased at pleasure, proud to obey;
Till life glided beguiled, like a smooth stream
Banked by perpetual flow'rs, Yasôdhara
Queen of the enchanting court.

But innermost,

Beyond the richness of those hundred halls

A secret chamber lurked where skill had spent.

All lovely fantasies to lull the mind.
The entrance of it was a cloistered square-
Roofed by the sky, and in the midst a tank-—
Of milky marble built, and laid with slabs
Of milk-white marble; bordered round the tank
And on the steps, and all along the frieze
With tender inlaid work of agate-stones,
Cool as to tread in summer-time on snows
It was to loiter there; the sunbeams dropped
Their gold, and, passing into porch and niche,
Softened to shadows, silvery, pale, and dim.
As if the very day paused and grew eve
In love and silence at that bower's gate;
For there beyond the gate the chamber was,
Beautiful, sweet; a wonder of the world!

Soft light from perfumed lamps through windows fell
Of nakre and stained stars of lucent film
On golden cloths outspread, and silken beds,
And heavy splendor of the purdah's fringe,
Lifted to take only the loveliest in.

Here, whether it was night or day none knew

For always streamed that softening light, more bright

Than sunrise, but as tender as the eve's;

And always breathed sweet airs, more joy-giving
Than morning's, but as cool as midnight's breath;
And night and day lutes sighed, and night and dair
Delicious foods were spread, and dewy fruits,
Sherbets new chilled with snows of Himalay,
And sweetmeats made of subtle daintiness,
With sweet tree-milk in its own ivory cup,
And night and day served there a chosen band
Of nautch-girls, cup-bearers, and cymballers,
Delicate, dark-browed ministers of love,

Who fanned the sleeping eyes of the happy prince,
And when he waked, led back his thoughts to bliss
With music whispering through the blooms, and

charm

Of amorous songs and dreamy dances, linked
By chime of ankle bells and wave of arms
And silver vina-strings: while essences

Of musk and champak and the blue haze spread
From burning spices soothed his soul again

To drowse by sweet Yasôdhara; and thus
Siddartha lived forgetting.

Furthermore,

The king commanded that within those walls
No mention should be made of death or age,
Sorrow, or pain, or sickness. If one dropped
In the lovely court-her dark glance dim, her feet
Faint in the dance-the guiltless criminal
Passed forth an exile from that Paradise,
Lest he should see and suffer at her woe.
Bright-eyed intendants watched to execute
Sentence on such as spake of the harsh world
Without, where aches and plagues were, tears and
fears

And wail of mourners, and grim fume of pyres.
'Twas treason if a thread of silver strayed
In tress of singing-girl or nautch-dancer;
At every dawn the dying rose was plucked,
The dead leaves hid, all evil sights removed:
For said the king, "If he shall pass his youth
Far from such things as move to wistfulness,
And brooding on the empty eggs of thought,
The shadow of this fate, too vast for man,
May fade, belike, and I shall see him grow
To that great stature of fair sovereignty
When he shall rule all lands-if he will rule-
The king of kings and glory of his time."

Softly the Indian night sinks on the plains
At full moon in the month of Chaitra Shud,
When mangoes redden and the asôka buds
Sweeten the breeze, and Rama's birthday comes,