_FROM THE "SAUPTIKA PARVA" OF THE MAHaBHaRATA,_

OR

_"NIGHT OF SLAUGHTER."_

_To Narayen, Best of Lords, be glory given, To great Saraswati, the Queen in Heaven; Unto Vyasa, too, be paid his meed, So shall this story worthily proceed._

"Those vanquished warriors then," Sanjaya said, "Fled southwards; and, near sunset, past the tents, Unyoked; abiding close in fear and rage.

There was a wood beyond the camp,--untrod, Quiet,--and in its leafy harbour lay The Princes, some among them bleeding still From spear and arrow-gashes; all sore-spent, Fetching faint breath, and fighting o'er again In thought that battle. But there came the noise Of Pandavas pursuing,--fierce and loud Outcries of victory--whereat those chiefs Sullenly rose, and yoked their steeds again, Driving due east; and eastward still they drave Under the night, till drouth and desperate toil Stayed horse and man; then took they lair again, The panting horses, and the Warriors, wroth With chilled wounds, and the death-stroke of their King.

"Now were they come, my Prince," Sanjaya said, "Unto a jungle thick with stems, whereon The tangled creepers coiled; here entered they-- Watering their horses at a stream--and pushed Deep in the thicket. Many a beast and bird Sprang startled at their feet; the long gra.s.s stirred With serpents creeping off; the woodland flowers Shook where the pea-fowl hid, and, where frogs plunged, The swamp rocked all its reeds and lotus-buds.

A banian-tree, with countless dropping boughs Earth-rooted, spied they, and beneath its aisles A pool; hereby they stayed, tethering their steeds, And dipping water, made the evening prayer.

"But when the 'Day-maker' sank in the west And Night descended--gentle, soothing Night, Who comforts all, with silver splendour decked Of stars and constellations, and soft folds Of velvet darkness drawn--then those wild things Which roam in darkness woke, wandering afoot Under the gloom. Horrid the forest grew With roar, and yelp, and yell, around that place Where Kripa, Kritavarman, and the son Of Drona lay, beneath the banian-tree; Full many a piteous pa.s.sage instancing In their lost battle-day of dreadful blood; Till sleep fell heavy on the wearied lids Of Bhoja's child and Kripa. Then these Lords-- To princely life and silken couches used-- Sought on the bare earth slumber, spent and sad, As houseless outcasts lodge.

"But, Oh, my King!

There came no sleep to Drona's angry son, Great Aswatthaman. As a snake lies coiled And hisses, breathing, so his panting breath Hissed rage and hatred round him, while he lay, Chin uppermost, arm-pillowed, with fierce eyes Roving the wood, and seeing sightlessly.

Thus chanced it that his wandering glances turned Into the fig-tree's shadows, where there perched A thousand crows, thick-roosting, on its limbs; Some nested, some on branchlets, deep asleep, Heads under wings--all fearless; nor, O Prince!

Had Aswatthaman more than marked the birds, When, lo! there fell out of the velvet night, Silent and terrible, an eagle-owl, With wide, soft, deadly, dusky wings, and eyes Flame-coloured, and long claws, and dreadful beak; Like a winged sprite, or great Garood himself; Offspring of Bharata! it lighted there Upon the banian's bough; hooted, but low, The fury smothering in its throat;--then fell With murderous beak and claws upon those crows, Rending the wings from this, the legs from that, From some the heads, of some ripping the crops; Till, tens and scores, the fowl rained down to earth b.l.o.o.d.y and plucked, and all the ground waxed black With piled crow-carcases; whilst the great owl Hooted for joy of vengeance, and again Spread the wide, deadly, dusky wings.

"Up sprang The son of Drona: 'Lo! this owl,' quoth he, 'Teacheth me wisdom; lo! one slayeth so Insolent foes asleep. The Pandu Lords Are all too strong in arms by day to kill; They triumph, being many. Yet I swore Before the King, my Father, I would "kill"

And "kill"--even as a foolish fly should swear To quench a flame. It scorched, and I shall die If I dare open battle; but by art Men vanquish fortune and the mightiest odds.

If there be two ways to a wise man's wish, Yet only one way sure, he taketh this; And if it be an evil way, condemned For Brahmans, yet the Kshattriya may do What vengeance bids against his foes. Our foes, The Pandavas, are furious, treacherous, base, Halting at nothing; and how say the wise In holy Shastras?--"Wounded, wearied, fed, Or fasting; sleeping, waking, setting forth, Or new arriving; slay thine enemies;"

And so again, "At midnight when they sleep, Dawn when they watch not; noon if leaders fall; Eve, should they scatter; all the times and hours Are times and hours fitted for killing foes."'

"So did the son of Drona steel his soul To break upon the sleeping Pandu chiefs And slay them in the darkness. Being set On this unlordly deed, and clear in scheme, He from their slumbers roused the warriors twain, Kripa and Kritavarman."

_THE MORNING PRAYER._

Our Lord the Prophet (peace to him!) doth write-- Surah the Seventeenth, int.i.tuled "Night"-- "Pray at the noon; pray at the sinking sun; In night-time pray; but most when night is done; For daybreak's prayer is surely borne on high By angels, changing guard within the sky;"

And in another place:--"Dawn's prayer is more Than the wide world, with all its treasured store."

Therefore the Faithful, when the growing light Gives to discern a black hair from a white, Haste to the mosque, and, bending Mecca-way, Recite _Al-Fatihah_ while 'tis scarce yet day: "_Praise be to Allah--Lord of all that live: Merciful King and Judge! To Thee we give Worship and honour! Succour us, and guide Where those have walked who rest Thy throne beside: The way of Peace; the way of truthful speech; The way of Righteousness. So we beseech._"

He that saith this, before the East is red, A hundred prayers of Azan hath he said.

Hear now a story of it--told, I ween, For your souls' comfort by Jelal-ud-din, In the great pages of the Mesnevi; For therein, plain and certain, shall ye see How precious is the prayer at break of day In Allah's ears, and in his sight alway How sweet are reverence and gentleness Shown to his creatures. ali (whom I bless!) The son of Abu Talib--he surnamed "Lion of G.o.d," in many battles famed, The cousin of our Lord the Prophet (grace Be his!)--uprose betimes one morn, to pace-- As he was wont--unto the mosque, wherein Our Lord (bliss live with him!) watched to begin _Al-Fatihah_. Darkling was the sky, and strait The lane between the city and mosque-gate, By rough stones broken and deep pools of rain; And there through toilfully, with steps of pain, Leaning upon his staff an old Jew went To synagogue, on pious errand bent: For those be "People of the Book,"--and some Are chosen of Allah's will, who have not come Unto full light of wisdom. Therefore he ali--the Caliph of proud days to be-- Knowing this good old man, and why he stirred Thus early, e'er the morning mills were heard, Out of his n.o.bleness and grace of soul Would not thrust past, though the Jew blocked the whole Breadth of the lane, slow-hobbling. So they went, That ancient first; and in soft discontent, After him ali--noting how the sun Flared nigh, and fearing prayer might be begun; Yet no command upraising, no harsh cry To stand aside;--because the dignity Of silver hairs is much, and morning praise Was precious to the Jew, too. Thus their ways Wended the pair; Great ali, sad and slow, Following the greybeard, while the East, a-glow, Blazed with bright spears of gold athwart the blue, And the Muezzin's call came "_Illahu!

Allah-il-Allah!_"

In the mosque, our Lord (On whom be peace!) stood by the Mehrab-board In act to bow, and _Fatihah_ forth to say.

But as his lips moved, some strong hand did lay Over his mouth a palm invisible, So that no voice on the a.s.sembly fell.

"_Ya! Rabbi 'lalamina_" thrice he tried To read, and thrice the sound of reading died, Stayed by this unseen touch. Thereat amazed Our Lord Muhammed turned, arose, and gazed; And saw--alone of those within the shrine-- A splendid Presence, with large eyes divine Beaming, and golden pinions folded down, Their speed still tokened by the fluttered gown.

GABRIEL he knew, the spirit who doth stand Chief of the Sons of Heav'n, at G.o.d's right hand: "Gabriel! why stayest thou me?" the Prophet said, "Since at this hour the _Fatihah_ should be read."

But the bright Presence, smiling, pointed where ali towards the outer gate drew near, Upon the threshold shaking off his shoes And giving "alms of entry," as men use.

"Yea!" spake th' Archangel, "sacred is the sound Of morning-praise, and worth the world's wide round, Though earth were pearl and silver; therefore I Stayed thee, Muhammed, in the act to cry, Lest ali, tarrying in the lane, should miss, For his good deed, its blessing and its bliss."

Thereat th' Archangel vanished:--and our Lord Read _Fatihah_ forth beneath the Mehrab-board.

_PROVERBIAL WISDOM_

FROM THE

_SHLOKAS OF THE HITOPADESA_.

DEDICATION

(_TO FIRST EDITION_)

_To you, dear Wife--to whom beside so well?-- True Counsellor and tried, at every shift, I bring my "Book of Counsels:" let it tell Largeness of love by littleness of gift;_

_And take this growth of foreign skies from me, (A scholar's thanks for gentle help in toil,) Whose leaf, "though dark," like Milton's Hmony, "Bears a bright golden flower, if not in this soil."_

_April 9, 1861._

PREFACE

_TO THE "BOOK OF GOOD COUNSELS."_

The _Hitopadesa_ is a work of high antiquity and extended popularity.

The prose is doubtless as old as our own era; but the intercalated verses and proverbs compose a selection from writings of an age extremely remote. The _Mahabharata_ and the textual _Veds_ are of those quoted; to the first of which Professor M. Williams (in his admirable edition of the _Nala_, 1860) a.s.signs the modest date of 350 B.C., while he claims for the _Rig-Veda_ an antiquity as high as 1300 B.C. The _Hitopadesa_ may thus be fairly styled "The Father of all Fables;" for from its numerous translations have probably come Esop and Pilpay, and in latter days _Reineke Fuchs_. Originally compiled in Sanskrit, it was rendered, by order of Nushirvan, in the sixth century A.D., into Persic. From the Persic it pa.s.sed, A.D. 850, into the Arabic, and thence into Hebrew and Greek. In its own land it obtained as wide a circulation. The Emperor Akbar, impressed with the wisdom of its maxims and the ingenuity of its apologues, commended the work of translating it to his own Vizier, Abdul Fazel. That Minister accordingly put the book into a familiar style, and published it with explanations, under the t.i.tle of the _Criterion of Wisdom_. The Emperor had also suggested the abridgment of the long series of shlokes which here and there interrupt the narrative, and the Vizier found this advice sound, and followed it, like the present Translator.

To this day, in India, the _Hitopadesa_, under its own or other names (as the _Anvari Suhaili_), retains the delighted attention of young and old, and has some representative in all the Indian vernaculars. A selection from the metrical Sanskrit proverbs and maxims is here given.

_PROVERBIAL WISDOM_

FROM THE

_SHLOKAS OF THE HITOPADESA._

_This Book of Counsel read, and you shall see, Fair speech and Sanskrit lore, and Policy._

"Wise men, holding wisdom highest, scorn delights, more false than fair; Daily live as if Death's fingers twined already in thy hair!

"Truly, richer than all riches, better than the best of gain, Wisdom is; unbought, secure--once won, none loseth her again.