But far above, in the rosiness, omniscient Buddha looked into her heart, and, pitying her weakness, changed himself by utterance of the Word into a girl far comelier and yet more lissome than even Pundari the bayadere. So that Pundari, descending, suddenly and in much astonishment became aware of the loveliest of companions at her side, and asked: "O thou fairest one! whence comest thou? Who may the kindred be of one so lovely?"
And the sweet stranger answered, in tones softer than of flutes of gold: "I also, lovely one, am returning to the white city Rajagriha; let us journey together, that we may comfort each other by the way."
And Pundari answered: "Yea, O fairest maiden! thy beauty draws me to thee as the flower the bee, and thy heart must surely be precious as is thy incomparable face!"
So they journeyed on; but the lovely stranger became weary at last, and Pundari, sitting down, made a pillow of her round knees for the dainty head, and kissed her comrade to sleep, and stroked the silky magnificence of her hair, and fondled the ripe beauty of the golden face slumbering, and a great love for the stranger swelled ripening in her heart.
Yet while she gazed the face upon her smooth knees changed, even as a golden fruit withers and wrinkles, so wizened became the curved cheeks: strange hollows darkened and deepened about the eyes; the silky lashes vanished with their shadows; the splendid hair whitened like the ashes of altar fires; shrunken and shriveled grew the lips; tooth-less yawned the once rosy mouth; and the bones of the face, made salient, fore-shaped the gibbering outlines of a skull. The perfume of youth was gone; but there arose odors insufferable of death, and with them came the ghastly creeping things that death fattens, and the livid colors and blotches that his shadowy fingers leave. And Pundari, shrieking, fled to the presence of Buddha, and related unto him the things which she had seen.
And the World-Honored comforted her, and spake:
"O Pundari, life is but as the fruit; loveliness but as the flower! Of what use is the fairest body that lieth rotting beside the flowings of the Ganges? Old age and death none of us may escape; yet there are worse than these—the new births which are to this life as the echo to the voice in the cavern, as the great footprints to the steps of the elephant.
"From desire cometh woe; by desire is begotten all evil. The body itself is a creation of the mind only, of the foolish thirst of the heart for pleasure. As the shadows of dreams are dissipated with the awakening of the sleeper, even so shall sorrow vanishand evil pass away from the heart of whosoever shall learn to conquer desire and quench the heart's thirst; even so shall the body itself vanish for those who tread well in the Five Paths.
"O Pundari, there is no burning greater than desire; no joy like unto the destruction of the body! Even as the white stork standing alone beside the dried-up lily-pool, so shall those be whose youth passes from them in the fierce heat of foolish passion; and when the great change shall come, they will surely be born again unto foolishness and tears.
"Those only who have found delight in the wilderness where others behold horror; those who have extinguished all longings; those self-made passionless by meditation on life and death—only such do attain to happiness, and, preventing the second birth, enter into the blessedness of Nirvana."...
And the bayadere, cutting off her hair, and casting from her all gifts of trinkets and jewels, abandoned everything to enter the Five Paths. And the Devas, rejoicing, made radiant the mountains above the white city, and filled the air with a rain of strange flowers. And whosoever would know more of Buddha, let him read the marvelous book "Fah-Kheu-King,"—the Book "Dhammapada."
The Legend Maggavago; or, "The Way"—which is in the marvelous book of the "Dhammapada."... A story of the Buddha at whose birth the stars stopped in their courses....
The Legend Maggavago; or, "The Way"—which is in the marvelous book of the "Dhammapada."... A story of the Buddha at whose birth the stars stopped in their courses....
The Brahman's son was dead—dead in the blossoming of his beautiful youth, as the rose in whose heart a worm is born, as the lotus bud when the waters of the pool are cut off. For comeliness there was none like him, even among the children of the holiest caste; nor were there any so deeply learned in the books of religion, in just reasoning regarding the Scriptures, in the recitation of the slokas of singers divinely inspired. Thrice the aged priest fainted away upon the body of his son; and as often as they would have led him to his home, he shrieked and fainted again, so that, at last, even while he lay as dead, they took the body from his arms, and, having washed it with the waters of purification, wrapped it in perfumed linen, and laid it upon a bier decked with Indian flowers, and bore it away to the place of interment. Thus, when the unhappy father came to himself, all was accomplished; and the stern elders of his caste, gathering about him, so harshly reproved him for his grief that he was perforce compelled to reason with himself regarding the vanity of lamentation and the folly of human tears.
But not ceasing to meditate upon his great loss, a wild hope at last shaped itself within his heart. "Lo!" he thought, "I have heard it said that certain mighty Brahmans, having acquired the Five Virtues, the Five Faculties, the Ten Forces, were enabled to converse face to face with Yamaraja, the Lord of Death! To me it hath not indeed been given, by reason perchance of my feeble will, to obtain the supreme wisdom; yet my love and faith are of the heart, and I will seek out Yamaraja, King of Death, and pray him to give me back my son." Therefore the Brahman, investing himself with sacerdotal vestments, performed the holy ceremonies ordained in the law; and having offered the sacrifice of flowers and of incense, he departed to seek the Lord of Death, the Maharajah of vanished kingdoms, Yama. And he questioned all whom he met as to where Yama might be found.
Some, opening astounded eyes, answered him not at all, deeming him to be mad; some there were that mocked him; some counseled that he should return home, lest he find Yama too speedily! Kshattrya princes with jewel-hilted sabres answered him as they rode by in glittering steel and glimmering gold: "Yama may be found in the tempest of battles, beneath the bursting of arrow-clouds, amidst the lightning of swords, before the armored ranks of the fighting elephants." Swarthy mariners replied, with rough laughter as of sea winds: "Thou mayst seekYama in the roaring of waters and raving of typhoons; let the spirit of storms answer thee!" ...And dancing girls, singing the burning hymn of Ourvasi, paused to answer with their witchery: "Seek Yama rather in our arms, upon our lips, upon our hearts; exhale thy soul in a kiss." ...And they laughed shrilly as the bells of the temple eaves laugh when the wind lips their silver tongues.
So he wandered on, by the banks of many rivers, under the shadowing of many city walls, still seeking, until he came to the great wilderness below the mountains of the east, where dwelt the most holy, who had obtained supreme wisdom. Serpents hooded like mendicants protruded their forked tongues; the leopard thrust aside the jungle grasses to gaze at him with eyes of green flame; the boa moved before him, making a waving in the deep weeds as the wake of a boat upon water. But inasmuch as he sought Yama, he could not fear.
Thus he came at last to where the most holy of Brahmans dwelt, who had obtained supreme wisdom, nourishing themselves upon the perfumes of flowers only. The shadow of the rocks, the shadows of the primeval trees, lengthened and shortened and circled with the circling of the sun; but the shadows of the trees beneath which they sat circled not, nor did they change with the changing of the universal light. The eyes of the hermits gazed unwinking upon the face of the sun; the birds ofheaven nestled in the immobility of their vast beards. All tremblingly he asked of them where Yamaraja might be found.
Long he awaited in silence their answer, hearing only the waters chanting their eternal slokas, the trees whispering with all their flickering leaf-tongues, the humming of innumerable golden flies, the heavy movement of great beasts in the jungle. At last the Brahmans moved their lips, and answered, "Wherefore seekest thou Yama?" And at their utterance the voices of the waters and the woods were hushed; the golden flies ceased the music of their wings.
Then answered the pilgrim, tremblingly: "Lo! I also am a Brahman, ye holy ones; but to me it hath not been given to obtain the supreme wisdom, seeing that I am unworthy to know the Absolute. Yet I sought diligently for the space of sixty years to obtain holiness; and our law teaches that if one have not reached wisdom at sixty, it is his duty, returning home, to take a wife, that he may have holy children. This I did; and one son was born unto me, beautiful as the Vasika flower, learned even in his childhood. And I did all I could to instill into him the love of uttermost wisdom, teaching him myself until it came to pass that he knew more than I, wherefore I sought him teachers from Elephanta. And in the beauty of his youth he was taken from me—borne away with the silk of manhood already shadowing his lip. Wherefore I pray ye, holy men,tell me in what place Yamaraja dwells, that I may pray him to give me back my boy!"
Then all the holy voices answered together as one voice, as the tone of many waters flowing in one cadence: "Verily thou hast not been fitted to seek the supreme wisdom, seeing that in the winter of thine age thou dost still mourn by reason of a delusion. For the stars die in their courses, the heavens wither as leaves, the worlds vanish as the smoke of incense. Lives are as flower-petals opening to fade; the works of man as verses written upon water. He who hath reached supreme wisdom mourneth existence only.... Yet, that thou mayst be enlightened, we will even advise thee. The kingdom of Yama thou mayst not visit, for no man may tread the way with mortal feet. But many hundred leagues toward the setting of the sun, there is a valley, with a city shining in the midst thereof. There no man dwells, but the gods only, when they incarnate themselves to live upon earth. And upon the eighth day of each month Yamaraja visits them, and thou mayst see him. Yet beware of failing a moment to practice the ceremonies, to recite the Mantras, lest a strange evil befall thee! ...Depart now from us, that we may reenter into contemplation!"
So, after journeying many moons, the good Brahman stood at last upon the height above the valley, and saw the ivory-white city—a vision of light,like the heaven Trayastrinshas. Not Hanoumat, the messenger of Rama, beheld such splendor, when he haunted the courts of Lanka by night, and beheld in Ravana's palace the loveliest of women interlaced in the embrace of sleep, "the garland of women's bodies interwoven." Terraces fretted by magical chisels rose heavenward, tier upon tier, until their summit seemed but the fleeciness of summer clouds; arches towered upon arches; pink marble gates yawned like the mouths of slumbering bayaderes; crenellated walls edged with embroidery of inlaid gold surrounded gardens deep as forests; domes white-rounded, like breasts, made pearly curves against the blue; fountains, silver-nippled, showered perfumed spray; and above the great gate of the palace of the gods, where Devas folded their wings on guard, flamed a vast carbuncle, upon whose face was graven the Word comprehended only by those who have attained supreme wisdom. And standing before the gate, the Brahman burnt the holy incense and recited the holy Mantras, ...until the Devas, pitying him, rolled back the doors of gold, and bade him enter.
Lofty as heaven seemed that palace hall, whose vault of cerulean blue hung, self-sustained, above the assembly of the gods; and the pavement of sable marble glimmered like a fathomless lake. Yet, as the Brahman prostrated himself, not daring to lift his eyes, he felt that it quavered under the treadof mortal feet even as when earth trembles. In its reflection he beheld the gods seated in assembly, not awful of image as in earthly temples, but as beings of light, star-diademed, rosy with immortality.... Only Yamaraja's brow bore no starry flame; and there was in his gaze a profundity as of deep answering unto deep. To the ears of the worshiper his voice came like the voice of waters pouring over the verge of an echoless abyss, ...and in obedience to that voice the Brahman uttered his prayer.
And the Lord of Death, replying in strange tones, said: "Pious and just is this prayer, O child of Brahma! Thy son is now in the Garden of the East. Take him by the hand and go thy way." ...
Joyfully the Brahman entered that garden of fountains that flow forever; of fruits, eternally ripe, that never fall; of flowers immortal, that never fade. And he discerned, among children innumerable disporting, his own beloved son playing beside the fountains; so that he cried out with a great cry, and ran to him and clasped him and wept over him, exclaiming: "O sweet son! O my beloved first-born! dost thou not know me, thy father who mourned thee so long—who hath even entered the presence of Yamaraja, the Lord of Death, to seek thee?"...
But like a mist the child passed from his embrace, and answered, with a wonder in his eyes: "I know thee not!"...
Then, kneeling in tears before the boy, the Brahmancried: "O sweetest son, hast thou indeed forgotten the father who loved thee more than his own life—who taught thy infant lips to utter the holy prayers—who denied thee no wish of thy heart, bringing thee up as the son of a rajah, teaching thee all the wisdom of the Brahmans? Hast thou forgotten thy mother, also, who weeps for thee now all alone, seeing that I have journeyed so long to find thee? Nay! Look at me with thy eyes! Look at me again, that thou mayst know me! Or is it because my grief hath so changed me that I am no longer the same in thy sight?"...
But the child ever replied: "I know thee not!"
Then, casting himself upon the ground, the Brahman wept as one smitten by infinite despair, and so sobbed, until the child, touching him, spoke again: "I know thee not! Thou art to me a stranger! I know, indeed, that thou art foolish—uttering the termsfatherandmother, signifying conditions that pass away like the grass of the earth. I perceive, also, that thou art sorrowful, and therefore a victim of delusion; for sorrow springeth from ignorance and desire, as the fungus from corruption. Here we know not desire, we know not sorrow, neither do we harbor illusion. Thou art no more to me than the wind to the moon, than the flame blown out is to the object once illuminated. Get thee from hence, therefore, as it will profit thee nothing to bring thy sorrow and thy folly into this place."...
So the Brahman departed, speechless for grief.
Only then did he seek the Buddha, the Shaman Gautama, that he might obtain advice and consolation. And the Buddha, pitying him, laid his hand upon his heart, and gave him rest, saying:
"O Brahman, thou hast only been punished for thy self-delusion and folly.
"Know that the spirit of the dead receiveth a new bodily form after its departure, so that former relationship utterly ceaseth, even as one visiting a tavern by the wayside is no longer a guest, having departed therefrom.
"Much thou art to be pitied for thy weakness and this delusion of thy love, nor canst thou find consolation but in supreme wisdom only.
"Vainly do men concern themselves regarding wife and child; for the end cometh to all as a roaring torrent, sweeping away whatsoever earthly affection clings to.
"Then neither father nor mother can save; then neither love nor strength may succor; parent and kinsman become as blind men set to guard a burning lamp.
"Therefore the truly wise considereth not such things, seeking only to save the world, to enlighten men, to destroy sorrow by destroying desire, to redeem himself.
"Even as the wind driveth away clouds, so should the wise seek to banish thought, to banish worldly consciousness, and thus escape forever the future birth and death, attaining the eightfoldWisdom—finding at last the eternal peace, the eternal rest.
"Whatsoever is high shall be brought low; wheresoever is agreement will surely come division; where there is birth there shall surely be death also.
"Therefore cast off, O Brahman, all passion, all affection, all regret, as the Vasika plant sheds its withered flowers; therefore flee the ignorant, and seek in solitude the true wisdom, needing no companion, rejoicing as the elephant escaped from the herd...."
And, perceiving the vanity of life, the evanescence of joy, the folly of grief, that Brahman ceased to mourn, and besought permission to follow the footsteps of the Teacher....
Which is in the "Jatakas" of Buddha.... At his birth the waters of the Sea became fresh, and the deeps of the Seven Hells were illuminated. The blind received their sight, that they might behold the bliss of the world; the deaf their hearing, that they might know the tidings of joy; by sevenfold lotus-flowers the rocks were riven asunder; the light of glory immeasurable filled the world systems of ten thousand suns....
Which is in the "Jatakas" of Buddha.... At his birth the waters of the Sea became fresh, and the deeps of the Seven Hells were illuminated. The blind received their sight, that they might behold the bliss of the world; the deaf their hearing, that they might know the tidings of joy; by sevenfold lotus-flowers the rocks were riven asunder; the light of glory immeasurable filled the world systems of ten thousand suns....
In the years when Brahmadatta reigned over Benares—the holy city—the city of apes and peacocks—the city possessing the seven precious things, and resounding with the ten cries, with the trumpeting of elephants, the neighing of horses, the melody of instruments and voices of singing girls—then the future Buddha-elect was born as a son in the family of the royal treasurer, after having passed through kotis of births innumerable.
Now the duration of one koti is ten millions of years.
And the Buddha-elect, the Bodhisattva, was brought up in splendid luxury as a prince of the holy city, and while yet a boy mastered all branches of human knowledge, and becoming a man succeeded his father as keeper of the treasury. But even while exercising the duties of his office, he gave rich giftsto holy men, and allowed none to excel him in almsgiving.
At that time there also lived a holy Buddha, who, striving to fulfill each and all of the Ten Perfections had passed seven days and seven nights without eating so much as one grain of rice. Arousing himself at last from his holy trance, he cleansed and robed his person, and purified himself, and passing through the air by virtue of his perfection, alighted before the door of the treasurer's house, with his begging-bowl in his hand.
Then the Bodhisattva, beholding the sacred mendicant awaiting in silence, bade a servant fetch to him the Buddha's bowl, that he might fill it with such food as those who seek supreme wisdom may permit themselves to eat. So the servant proceeded to fetch the bowl.
But even as he advanced, and before he might reach out his hand, the ground rocked and heaved like the sea beneath him; and the earth opened itself, and yawned to its entrails, making an abyss between the holy mendicant and the servant of the Bodhisattva. And the gulf became a hell of seething flame, like the hell of Avici, like the heart of a volcano in which even the crags of granite melt as wax, pass away as clouds. Also a great and fantastic darkness grew before the sun, and blackened all his face.
Wherefore the servant and his fellows fled shrieking, leaving only the Bodhisattva standing upon oneverge of the abyss, and the Buddha, calmly waiting, upon the other. Where the feet of the perfect mendicant stood, the abyss widened not; but it widened swiftly, devouring the ground before the feet of the Bodhisattva, as though seeking to engulf him. For Mara, Lord of Rakshasas and of evil ones, desiring that the Buddha might die, sought thus to prevent the almsgiving of the Bodhisattva. And the darkness before the sun was the darkness of Mara's awful face.
And as a muttering of mountain thunder came a voice, saying: "The Buddha shall not live by thine alms-gift; his hour hath come.... Mine is the fire between thee and him."
And the Bodhisattva looked at the Buddha across the abyss of fire; and the Buddha's face changed not, neither did he utter a word to dissuade nor give one sign to encourage.
But the Bodhisattva cried aloud, even while the abyss, widening, grew vaster to devour him: "Mara, thou shalt not prevail! To thee power is not given against duty!... My lord Buddha, I come to thee, fearing not; take thou this food from the hands of thy servant."
And with the dish of rice in his hands, the Bodhisattva strode into the roaring waste of fire, uttering these jewel-words: "Better to enter willingly into hell than neglect a duty or knowingly commit a wrong!"...
Even then the Buddha smiled on the other verge.And ere the Bodhisattva could fall, there suddenly arose from the depths of the pit of fire a vast and beautiful lotus-flower, like unto that from whose womb of gold was Brahma born; and it received the feet of the Bodhisattva, and bore him beyond the pit, upcasting over him a spray of golden dust like a shower of stars. So he poured into the Buddha's bowl the holy gift of alms.
The darkness vanished; the abyss was not; the Buddha, rising in air, passed over a bridge of rosy cloud to the mountain regions of Himalaya. But the Bodhisattva, still standing upon the lotus of gold, long discoursed unto the people concerning holy things.
There is in the ancient Finnish tongue a strange book written, called "Kalewala," a book of runes, treating about the beginning of the world, and about the god-smiths who first wrought the foundations of the sky, and about the witches and the enchanters of the farthest North. Of witches Louhi was among the greatest; and her daughter was wooed by gods and heroes—even by Wainamoinen the mightiest.... So fair was the virgin that her beauty gave light like the moon; so white were her bones that their whiteness glimmered through the transparency of her flesh; so clear was the ivory of her bones that the marrow could be seen within them.... And the story of how Wainamoinen built a boat that he might sail to woo the virgin, is thus told in the runes of the "Kalewala":
There is in the ancient Finnish tongue a strange book written, called "Kalewala," a book of runes, treating about the beginning of the world, and about the god-smiths who first wrought the foundations of the sky, and about the witches and the enchanters of the farthest North. Of witches Louhi was among the greatest; and her daughter was wooed by gods and heroes—even by Wainamoinen the mightiest.... So fair was the virgin that her beauty gave light like the moon; so white were her bones that their whiteness glimmered through the transparency of her flesh; so clear was the ivory of her bones that the marrow could be seen within them.... And the story of how Wainamoinen built a boat that he might sail to woo the virgin, is thus told in the runes of the "Kalewala":
...The aged and valiant Wainamoinen resolved to build himself a boat, a swift war-boat. He hewed the trees, he hewed the trunks of the pines and the firs, singing songs the while, chanting the runes that banish evil. And as he sang the smitten trees answered him, the fibres of the oak and of the fir and of the mountain pine yielded up their secretsin sounds that to other men seemed echoes only, but which to Wainamoinen's ears were syllables and words—words wrung from the wood by enchantment.
Now only the keel remained to be wrought; the strong keel of the war-ship had yet to be fashioned. And Wainamoinen smote down a great oak, that he might carve and curve its body as keels are curved and carven. But the dying oak uttered its words of wood, its magical voice of warning, saying: "Never may I serve for the keel of thy boat, for the bottom of thy war-ship. Lo! the worms have made their crooked dwellings within my roots: yesterday the raven alighted upon my head; bloody was his back, bloody his crest, and blood lay clotting upon the blackness of his neck."
Therefore the ancient Wainamoinen left the oak, and sought among the mountain firs and the mountain pines for flawless keel-wood; and he found wood worthy of his war-boat, and he wrought the same into shape by the singing of magical songs.
For the words of enchantment by which shapes are shaped were known to him; by magical words he had wrought the hull, with magical words had formed the oars; and ribs and keel were by wizard song interlocked together. But to perfect the prow three words must be sung, three warlock words; and those three words Wainamoinen did not know, and his heart was troubled because he did not know them.
There was a shepherd dwelling among the hills—an ancient shepherd who had beheld ten times a hundred moons; and him Wainamoinen questioned concerning the three magical words.
But the ancient shepherd answered him dreamily: "Surely thou mayst find a hundred words, a thousand syllables of magical song, upon the heads of the swallows, upon the shoulders of the wild geese, upon the necks of the swans!"
Then the aged and valiant Wainamoinen went forth in search of the magical words. He slew the flying swallows by thousands; thousands of white geese he slew; thousands of snowy swans were stricken by his arrows. Yet he found no word written upon their heads, their shoulders, their necks, nor even so much as the beginning of a word. Then he thought unto himself: "Surely I may find a hundred words, a thousand syllables of song, under the tongues of the summer reindeer, within the ruddy mouth of the white squirrel."
And he went his way to seek the magical words. He strewed the vast plains with the bodies of slaughtered reindeer; he slew the white squirrels by thousands and tens of thousands. But he found no word beneath the tongue of the reindeer, no magical word in the mouth of the white squirrel, not even so much as the beginning of a word.
Yet again Wainamoinen thought to himself, saying: "Surely I may find a hundred magicalwords, a thousand syllables of song, in the dwelling of the Queen of Death, in the land of Tuonela, in the underground plains of Manala."
And he took his way unto the dwelling-place of Tuonela, to the moonless land of the dead, to the underground plains of Manala. Three days he journeyed thither with steps lighter than air; three days he journeyed as a shadow walking upon shadow.
And he came at last unto the banks of the sacred river, the sable shore of the black river, over which the spirits of the dead must pass; and he cried out to the children of Death: "O daughters of Tuoni, bring hither your bark! O children of Manala, bring hither your bark, that I may cross over the black river!"
But the daughters of Death, the children of Hell, cried out, saying: "The bark shall be taken over to thee only when thou shalt have told us how thou hast come to Manala, how thou hast reached Tuonela—the abode of Death, the domain of ghosts."
And Wainamoinen called out to them across the waters, saying: "Surely Tuoni himself hath conducted me hither; surely the Queen of Death hath driven me to Tuonela."
But the daughters of Tuonela waxed wroth; the virgins of Kalma were angry. And they answered: "We know the artifice of men; we perceive the lie within thy mouth. For surely thou livest!No wound hath slain thee; no woe hath consumed thee; no disaster hath destroyed thee; no grave hath been dug for thee. Who, therefore, hath brought thee alive to Manala?"
And Wainamoinen, answering, called out to them across the waters: "Iron surely hath brought me to the land of death; steel surely hath accompanied me unto Manala."
The daughters of Tuonela waxed wroth; the virgins of Kalma were angry. And they answered: "We know all artifices of men; we perceive the lie within thy mouth. Had iron brought thee to Tuonela, had steel accompanied thee unto Manala, thy garments would drip with blood.... Who brought thee to Manala?"
And Wainamoinen called out again to them across the waters: "Fire hath brought me unto Manala; flame hath accompanied me to Tuonela."
The daughters of Tuonela waxed wroth; the virgins of Kalma were angry. And they cried out: "We know all artifices of men; we perceive the lie within thy mouth. Had fire brought thee to Manala, had flame accompanied thee to Tuonela, thy garments would be consumed by the fire, the glow of the flame would be upon thee. Who brought thee to Manala?"
And Wainamoinen yet again called out to them across the black river, saying: "Water hath brought me to Manala; water hath accompanied me to Tuonela."
The daughters of Tuonela waxed wroth; the virgins of Kalma were angry. And they answered, saying: "We know all the artifices of men; we perceive the lie within thy mouth. For there is no dripping of water from thy garments. Cease, therefore, to lie to us; for we know thou livest; we perceive that no wound hath slain thee, no woe consumed thee, no disaster hath crushed thy bones. Who brought thee to Manala? who guided thee to Tuonela?"
Then Wainamoinen called out to them across the river: "Surely I will now utter the truth. I have made me a boat by my art; I have wrought me a war-boat by magical song. With a song I shaped the hull; with a song I formed the keel; with a song I fashioned the oars. Yet three words are wanting to me—three magical words by which I may perfect the carven prow in its place; and I have come to Tuonela to find these three words; I have come to Manala to seek these three words of enchantment. Bring hither your bark, O children of Tuonela! bring hither your boat, O virgins of Kalma!"
So the daughters of Death came over the dark river in their black boat, and they rowed Wainamoinen to the further shore, to the waste of wandering ghosts; and they gave him to drink of what the dead drink, and to eat of what the dead devour. And Wainamoinen laid him down and slept, being weary with his mighty journey.
He slept and dreamed; but his garments slept not—his enchanted garments kept watch for him.
Now the daughter of Tuoni, the iron-fingered daughter of Death, seated herself in the darkness upon a great stone in the midst of the waters; and with iron fingers wove a net of iron thread, one thousand ells in length.
The sons of Tuoni, the sons of the Queen of Death, also seated themselves in the same darkness upon the same great stone in the midst of the same waters, and with their hooked fingers, with their iron finger-nails, also wove a net of iron thread, a thousand ells in length.
And they cast their net into the river, across the river, that they might ensnare Wainamoinen, that they might entangle the magician, that they might prevent him from ever leaving the abyss of Manala, ever leaving the domain of Tuonela, so long as the golden moon should circle in heaven, even so long as the silver sun should light the world of men.
But the garments of Wainamoinen kept watch, the enchanted garments of the magician slept not. And Wainamoinen uttered a magical word, and changed himself into a stone; and the stone rolled into the black river.
And the stone became a viper of iron, and passed sinuously through the meshes of the nets, and through the river currents, and into the black reeds upon the black river's further bank.
So Wainamoinen passed from the kingdom of Tuoni, from the children of Death; but he had not found the magical words, nor so much as the part of a word.
Then thought Wainamoinen unto himself: "Surely I may find a hundred words, a thousand syllables of song, in the mouth of the earth-giant, in the entrails of the ancient Kalewa! Long is the way to his resting-place; one must travel awhile over the points of women's needles, and awhile upon the sharp edges of warriors' swords, and yet again awhile upon the sharp steel of the battle-axes of heroes."
And Wainamoinen went to the forge of his brother Ilmarinnen—Ilmarinnen, the Eternal Smith, who forged the vault of heaven, leaving no mark of the teeth of the pincers, no dent of the blows of the hammer—Ilmarinnen, who forged for men during the age of darkness a sun of silver and a moon of gold. And he cried out: "O Ilmarinnen, mighty brother, forge me shoes of iron, gloves of iron, a coat of iron! forge me a staff of iron with a pith of steel, that I may wrest the magic words from the stomach of Kalewa, from the dead entrails of the earth-giant."
And Ilmarinnen forged them. Yet he said: "O brother Wainamoinen, the ancient Kalewa is dead; the grave of the earth-giant is deep. Thou mayst obtain no word from him—not even the beginning of a word."
But Wainamoinen departed; Wainamoinen hastened over the way strewn with the points of needles and the edges of swords and axe-heads of sharpest steel. He ran swiftly over them with shoes of iron; he tore them from his path with gloves of iron, until he reached the resting-place of Kalewa, the vast grave of the earth-giant.
For a thousand moons and more Kalewa had slept beneath the earth. The poplar-tree, the haapa, had taken root upon his shoulders; the white birch, the koivu, was growing from his temples; the elder tree, the leppa, was springing from his cheeks; and his beard had become overgrown with pahju-bark, with the bark of the drooping willow. The shadowy fir, the oravikuusi, was rooted in his forehead; the mountain-pine, the havukonka, was sprouting from his teeth; the dark spruce, the petaja, was springing from his feet.
But Wainamoinen tore the haapa from his shoulders, and the koivu from his temples, and the leppa from his cheeks, and the pahju-bark from his beard, and the oravikuusi from his forehead, and the havukonka from his teeth, and the petaja from his feet.
Then into the mouth of the Mountain-Breaker, into the mouth of the buried giant, Wainamoinen mightily thrust his staff of smithied iron.
And Kalewa awoke from his slumber of ages—awoke with groans of pain—and he closed his jaws upon the staff; but his teeth could not crushthe core of steel, could not shatter the staff of iron. And as Kalewa opened wider his mouth to devour the tormentor, lo! Wainamoinen leaped into the yawning throat and descended into the monstrous entrails. And Wainamoinen kindled a flame in the giant's belly—built him a forge in his entrails.
Then Kalewa, in his great agony, called on that god who leans upon the axis of the world, and upon the blue goddesses of the waters, and upon the deities of the icy wildernesses, and upon the spirits of the forest, and even upon the great Jumala, at whose birth the brazen mountains trembled and lakes were changed into hills. But the gods came not to aid him.
Then Kalewa cursed his tormentor with a thousand magical curses—with curses of wind and storm and fire—with curses that change men's faces into stone—with curses that transport the accursed to the vast deserts of Laponia, where the hoof of the horse is never heard, where the children of the mare can find no pasturage. But the curses harmed not Wainamoinen; the curses only called forth the laughter of scorn from the lips of Wainamoinen.
And Wainamoinen cried out unto Kalewa: "Never shall I depart from hence, O thou mightiest singer of runes, until I have learned from thee the three magical words which I desire—the three words of enchantment that I have sought throughout the world in vain. Sing to me, O Kalewa, thysongs, thy most wondrous songs, thy marvelous songs of enchantment."
So the giant Kalewa, the possessor of sublimest wisdom, the singer of marvelous runes, opened his mouth and sang his songs for Wainamoinen—his most wondrous songs, his wizard songs.
Words succeeded to words, verses to verses, wizard runes to wizard runes. Ere Kalewa could sing all that he knew, could utter all that he had learned, the mountains would cease to be, the waters of the rivers would dry up, the great lakes be depopulated of their finny people, the sea have forgotten its power to make waves.
Unceasingly he sang for many days, unceasingly for many sleepless nights; he sang the songs of wizards, the songs of enchantment, the songs that create or destroy.
He sang the songs of wisdom, the runes sung by the gods before the beginning of the world, the verses by whose utterance nothingness became substance and darkness became light.
And as he sang the fair Sun paused in her course to hear him; the golden Moon stopped in her path to listen; the awful billows of the sea stood still; the icy rivers that devour the pines, that swallow up the firs, ceased to rage; the mighty cataracts hung motionless above their abysses; the waves of Juortana lifted high their heads to hear.
And Wainamoinen heard at last the three words, the three magical words, he sought for; and heceased tormenting Kalewa, and departed from him. So Kalewa sank again into his eternal slumber, and the earth that loved him recovered him, and the forests rewove their network of knotted roots above his place of sleep....
In the ancient runes of the Finns, the runes of the "Kalewala," is related the creation of the world from the yolk of an egg, and of the heavens from the shell of the egg; also the origin of Iron and the birth of Steel and the beginning of Music.... Now the first musician was no other than Wainamoinen; and the first kantele, triple-stringed, was made by him from the resonant wood of the fir, and from the bones of a giant pike, as is told in the Twenty-Second Rune. Out of the fir-tree was formed the body of the kantele; out of the teeth of the pike-fish were the screws wrought; and the strings were made of hairs from the black mane of the steed of Hiisi the magician—from the shining mane of the stallion of Hiisi, the herder of wolves and bears....
In the ancient runes of the Finns, the runes of the "Kalewala," is related the creation of the world from the yolk of an egg, and of the heavens from the shell of the egg; also the origin of Iron and the birth of Steel and the beginning of Music.... Now the first musician was no other than Wainamoinen; and the first kantele, triple-stringed, was made by him from the resonant wood of the fir, and from the bones of a giant pike, as is told in the Twenty-Second Rune. Out of the fir-tree was formed the body of the kantele; out of the teeth of the pike-fish were the screws wrought; and the strings were made of hairs from the black mane of the steed of Hiisi the magician—from the shining mane of the stallion of Hiisi, the herder of wolves and bears....
... So the instrument was completed, the kantele was prepared; and the aged and valiant Wainamoinen bade the old men to play upon it, and to sing the runes of old.
And they sang, but wearily, as winds in mountain wastes; and their voices trembled frostily, and the instrument rebelled against the touch of their feeble fingers.
Then the ancient and valiant Wainamoinen commanded the young men to sing. But their fingers became cramped upon the strings, and the sounds called forth were sorrowful, and the instrument rebelled against their touch. Joy answered not unto joy, song responded not unto song.
Then the ancient and valiant Wainamoinen sent the kantele to the wizard people who dwelt in the wastes of ice, to the people of Pohjola, to the Witch of Pohjola.
And the Witch sang, and the witch-virgins with her; the wizards also, and the children of the wizards. But joy answered not unto joy; song responded not unto song. And the kantele shrieked beneath the touch of their fingers, shrieked like one who, fearing greatly in the blackness of the night, feeleth invisible hands upon him.
Then spake an aged man who had seen more than two hundred winters—an ancient man aroused by the shrieking of the kantele from his slumber within the recess of the hearth: "Cease! cease! for the sounds which ye utter make anguish in my brain, the noises which ye make do chill the marrow within my bones. Let the instrument be cast into the waters, or returned forthwith unto him who wrought it."
Then from the strings of the kantele issued sweet sounds, and the sounds shaped themselves into words, and the kantele answered with its voice, praying: "Cast me not into the deep, but return me rather unto him who wrought me; for in the hands of my creator I will give forth sounds of joy, I will utter sounds of harmonious sweetness."
So they took back the kantele unto Wainamoinen, who had wrought it.
And the ancient and valiant Wainamoinen washed his thumbs; he purified his fingers; he seated himself by the sea upon the Stone of Joy, upon the Hillock of Silver, even at the summit of the Hill of Gold; and he took the instrument within his hands, and lifted up his voice, saying: "Let him that hath never heard the strong joy of runes, the sweet sound of instruments, the sound of music, come hither and hear!"
And the ancient Wainamoinen began to sing. Limpid his voice as the voice of running water, deep and clear, mighty and beautiful.
Lightly his fingers ran over the strings of the kantele; and the kantele sang in answer—sang weirdly, sang wondrously, sang throbbingly, like the throats of a thousand birds. And its joy answered unto the joy of the singer; its song responded unto Wainamoinen's song.
All the living creatures of the forest, all the living creatures of air, drew nigh unto the rune-singer, gathered themselves about the mighty chanter, that they might hear the suavity of his voice, that they might taste the sweetness of his song.
The gray wolves came from their lurking-places in the vast marshes; the bears deserted their dwellings under the roots of the firs, within the hollows of the giant pines; and they clambered over the hedges in their way, they broke down the obstacles before them. And the wolves mounted upon the heights, the bears upon the trees, while Wainamoinencalled Joy into the world, while Wainamoinen sang his wondrous song.
The lord of the forest, also, the old man of the black beard—Knippana, king of the joyous woods; and all the followers of Tapio, god of wild creatures, came forth to hear, and were visible. Even the wife of the forest king, the goddess of savage beasts, the mistress of Tapiola, donned her raiment of red, and put on her azure stockings, and ascended a hollow birch that she might lend ear to the songs of the god.
All animals of the woods, all birds of the air, hurried to hear the marvelous art of the musician, hastened to taste the sweetness of his song.
The eagle descended from the clouds; the falcon clave the airs; the white gulls rose from the far sea-marshes, the swans from the clear deeps of running water; the swift lark, the quick finch, the comely linnet, came to perch upon the shoulders of the god.
The Sun, bright virgin of the sky—the Sun, rich in her splendors—and the fair-shining Moon, had paused in their paths; the first upon the luminous vault of heaven, the other upon the end of a long cloud. There were they weaving their subtle tissues of light—weaving with shuttle of gold, carding with carding-comb of silver. Suddenly they heard the unknown voice of song—the voice, mighty and sweet, of the rune-singer. And the shuttle of gold escaped from their hands, and the carding-comb of silver slipped from their fingers, and the threads of their tissue were broken.
All animals living in the waters, all the thousand-finned fishes of the deep, came to hear the voice of Wainamoinen, came to taste the sweetness of his song.
Swiftly came the salmon and the trout, the pikes also and the sea-dogs; all the great fishes and all the little fishes swam toward the shore, and remained as nigh as they might remain, and lifted their heads to listen.
And Ahto, monarch of waters—Ahto, ancient as the ocean, and bearded with water-weeds—arose upon his great water-lily above the waves.
The fertile wife of the sea-god was combing her hair with a comb of gold, and she heard the voice of the singer. And the comb fell from her hands; trembling of pleasure seized her, torture of desire came upon her to hear, so that she arose from the green abyss and approached the shore. There, leaning with her bosom upon the rock, she listened to the sounds of the kantele, mingling with the voice of Wainamoinen—so tender the sounds, so sweet the song!
All the heroes wept; the hardest of hearts were softened; there were none of all having never wept before who did not weep then.
The youths wept; the old men wept; the strong men wept; the virgins wept; the little infants wept; even Wainamoinen also felt the source of his own tears rising to overflow.
And soon his tears began to fall, outnumbering the wild berries of the hills, the heads of the swallows, the eggs of the fowls.
They streamed upon his cheeks; and from his cheeks they fell upon his knees, and from his knees they dropped upon his feet, and from his feet they rolled into the dust.
And his tear-drops passed through his six garments of wool, his six girdles of gold, his seven robes of blue, his eight tunics all thickly woven.
And the tears of Wainamoinen flowed as a river, and became a river, and poured themselves to the shores of the sea, and precipitated themselves from the shores into the deeps of the abyss, into the region of black sands.
There did they blossom; there were they transformed into pearls,—pearls destined for the crowns of kings, for the eternal joy of noblest heroes.
And the aged Wainamoinen cried out: "O youths, O daughters of illustrious race! is there none among ye who will go to gather up my tears from the deeps of the ocean, from the region of black sand?"
But the youths and the elders answered, saying: "There is none among us willing to go to gather up thy tears from the deeps of the ocean, from the region of black sand."
Then a seamew, a seamew with plumage of blue, dipped her beak into the cold waves; and she gathered the pearls, and she gathered the tears, of Wainamoinen from the deeps of the ocean, from the region of black sand.
...She is all fair, the Goddess of Veins—the Goddess Suonetar, the beneficent Goddess of Veins. Marvelously doth she spin the veins of men with her wondrous spindle, with her distaff of brass, with her spinning-wheel of iron....
...She is all fair, the Goddess of Veins—the Goddess Suonetar, the beneficent Goddess of Veins. Marvelously doth she spin the veins of men with her wondrous spindle, with her distaff of brass, with her spinning-wheel of iron....
Like the leaping of the mountain stream, like the rushing of a torrent, the blood issued from the knee of Wainamoinen, wounded by his own axe through the craft of Hiisi the Evil, through the malice of Lempo, the herder of wolves and bears.
The ancient and valiant Wainamoinen had knowledge of all wisdom, all speech that is eternal, all magical words save only the word by which wizard wounds are healed. He invoked the magical art, he uttered the awful imprecation; carefully he read the Original Words, pronounced the runes of science.
But he had forgotten the mightiest words—the Words of Blood, the charmed words by which the palpitant torrent is checked, by which the gory stream is held back, by which invincible dikes are cast athwart the places broken by iron, athwart the bites made by the blue teeth of steel.
And the blood ceased not to gush bubbling from the wound of the hero, from the knee of Wainamoinen.
The aged and valiant Wainamoinen harnessed his steed to his brown sledge; he mounted upon the seat, smote the swift horse, and cracked his great whip adorned with pearls.
The steed flew over the long course, drawing the brown sledge, devouring distance. Swift as wind was the driving of Wainamoinen, until he neared the dwelling of the sorcerers, the first of the habitations of the wizards. And he halted at the threshold, and cried: "Is there in this habitation any man learned in the knowledge of iron—any man who can oppose a dike to this river, who can check this torrent of blood?"
A child, a little child, was seated in the middle of the floor; and the child answered, saying: "There is no man here learned in the knowledge of iron—no man able to assuage with his breath even the bruises of wood, nor to ease the pain of heroes.... Go thou to another habitation."
The ancient and valiant Wainamoinen made his great whip, adorned with pearls, whistle upon the flanks of his rapid courser. Swift as lightning his course, until they came to the middle dwelling; and Wainamoinen halted at the threshold, and cried aloud: "Is there in this habitation any man learned in the knowledge of iron—any man able to oppose a dike to this river, to check this torrent of blood?"
An aged woman was there, lying under her blankets, chattering, babbling, within the furthest endof the recess of the hearth—an aged woman with three teeth only—the wisest woman in all that country. And she arose and drew nigh unto the door, and made reply, saying: "There is no man here learned enough to comprehend the misfortune of the hero, to ease his pain, to stop the river of the veins, the rainfall of blood, the torrent of blood out-rolling. Go, seek thou such a man in some other habitation."
The aged and valiant Wainamoinen made his great whip, adorned with pearls, whistle upon the flanks of his swift steed. Lightning-wise he followed the long way leading to the highest habitation. And he descended at the threshold, and leaning against a pillar, cried aloud: "Is there in this habitation any man learned in the knowledge of iron—any man able to oppose a dike to this river, to check this torrent of blood?"
An aged man dwelt within the great fireplace. His voice roared from the recess of the glowing hollow: "We have checked mightier ones, we have enchained swifter ones, we have overcome greater dangers, we have broken down loftier obstacles—even by the Three Words of the Creator, by the utterance of the Original Words, the holy words. By them the mouths of rivers, the courses of lakes, the fury of cataracts, have been overcome. We have separated straits from promontories; we have conjoined isthmuses with isthmuses."
The aged Wainamoinen descended from his sledge, and entered beneath the old man's roof. A cup of silver was brought to him, and a cup of gold; but these could not contain the least part of the blood of Wainamoinen, the blood of the noble god.
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth—the long-beard cried out: "What manner of man art thou? What hero? Already have seven cups, eight great vessels, been filled with the blood flowing from thy knee! Ah! would I could utter other magical words—even the great Words of Blood! But, alas! I have forgotten the origin of Iron."
Then said the aged Wainamoinen: "I know the origin of Iron; I know the birth of Steel. There were three children whose origin was the same: Water, which is the eldest; Iron, which is the youngest; Fire, to which the middle rank belongs. And Fire soon displayed its rage; flames lifted themselves insolently, and waxed vast with pride. The fields were consumed, the marshes were scorched in that great year of sterility, in that fatal summer which devoured with inextinguishable fire all creatures of nature. Then did Iron seek a refuge, a place wherein to hide."...
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth: "Where did Iron hide itself? Where did it find refuge in that great year of barrenness, in that fatal summer which devoured all creatures of nature?"
The aged Wainamoinen, the valiant Wainamoinen, made answer: "Then Iron hid itself; Iron found a refuge in the extremity of a long cloud, in the summit of an oak stripped of its branches, in the budding bosom of a young girl.... There were three virgins, three affianced maidens, who poured forth upon the ground the milk of their breasts. The milk of the first was black; the milk of the second, white; the milk of the third was ruddy. Of the virgin whose milk was black, Flexible Iron was born; of her whose milk was white, Fragile Iron was born; of her with the ruddy milk was born Steel.... Then for two years Iron hid itself in the midst of a vast marsh, upon the summit of a rock where the white swans laid their eggs, where the wild duck hatched out her little ones. And the wolf rushed through the marsh; and the bear rushed into the sterile plain; and they tore up the earth that concealed the Iron. But a god, passing through that barren place, saw the black sand that the wolf had torn up, that the bear had trampled beneath his feet.... And that day the Iron was taken out of the marsh, and purged from the slime of the earth, and purified by drying from the humidity of the waters."
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth: "So that was the origin of Iron? that was the birth of Steel?"
But the valiant Wainamoinen made answer: "Nay! not yet has the origin of Iron been told. For, without devouring Fire, Iron may not be born;without Water, it may not be hardened. Into the workshop of the great smith it was borne, into the forge of Ilmarinnen; and the mighty craftsman, the Eternal Smith, said unto it: 'If I place thee within my fire, if I put thee into the flame of my forge-fire, thou wilt become arrogant, thou wilt wax strong, thou wilt spread terror about thee, thou wilt slay thy brother, thou wilt kill the son of thy mother.'... Then the Iron within the forge fires, under the blows of the hammer, sware this oath: 'I have trees to rend, hearts of stone to gnaw; no! never will I slay my brother, never will I kill the son of my mother.'... Then did Ilmarinnen soften the Iron within the heart of the furnace, and shape it upon the anvil. But ere dipping it into the water, he tested with his tongue, he tasted with his palate, the creative juices of Steel, the water that gives hardness unto Iron. And he cried: 'This water is powerless to create Steel, to harden Iron. O Mehilainen, bird of Hiisi! O Herlihainen, my bird-friend! fly hither upon thine agile wings; fly over the marshes, over the lands, over the straits of the ocean! bring me honey upon thy feathers; bear to me upon thy tongue the honey of seven meadow-stalks, of six flower-pistils, for the Steel I am going to make, for the Iron I wish to harden.'... But Herlihainen, the evil bird of Hiisi the Evil, brought the venom of blood, the black juices of a worm that his lizard-eyes had seen, the hidden poison of the toad; and he gave these to Ilmarinnen for the Steelwhich was being prepared, the Iron that was to be tempered. And suddenly the Iron quivered with rage; it growled; it moved; its oath was forgotten; like a dog it swallowed its own oath, and it slew its brother, it murdered the son of its mother. Even now it plunges into flesh, bites the knees of men, rages so that blood flows and flows and overflows in vast torrents."
The old man roared from the recess of the hearth: "Now I know the origin of Iron, the fatal destiny of Steel!" And to his memory came back the Original Words, the great Words of Blood; and he cursed the Iron with magical curses, and quelled with caressing speech the panic of the fleeing blood. And the hurt of the Iron ceased, and the red torrent stayed its flowing.
Then the old man took within his fingers the extremities of the veins, and counted them, and uttered the magical prayer:
All fair is she, the Goddess of Veins—Suonetar, the beneficent Goddess of Veins. Marvelously doth she spin the veins of men with her beautiful spindle, with her distaff of brass, with her spinning-wheel of iron.... Come, O Goddess of Veins! Come unto me! I invoke thy succor, I call thy name!... Bring hither in thy bosom a roll of ruddy flesh, a blue skein of veins, that the wound may be filled, that the ends of the veins may be tied!...
All fair is she, the Goddess of Veins—Suonetar, the beneficent Goddess of Veins. Marvelously doth she spin the veins of men with her beautiful spindle, with her distaff of brass, with her spinning-wheel of iron.... Come, O Goddess of Veins! Come unto me! I invoke thy succor, I call thy name!... Bring hither in thy bosom a roll of ruddy flesh, a blue skein of veins, that the wound may be filled, that the ends of the veins may be tied!...
And suddenly the hurt of Wainamoinen was healed: the flesh became firmer than before; thesevered veins were retied, the severed muscles rejoined, the broken bones reknit.
And many other wonderful things said and done by the old man within the recess of the hearth are told of in the Fourth Rune of the ancient Kalewala.
...Beyond the seas which are known roar the waters of that Tenebrous Ocean that is unknown to mortals. There the long breakers chant an eternal hymn, in tones unlike to the voices of other seas. And in that ocean there is an island, and in that island the Fountain of Youth unceasingly bubbles up from the mystic caverns; and it was that fountain which King Alexander, the Two-Horned, vainly sought. Only his general, the Prophet Khader, found it, whereby he became immortal. And of other mortals Solomon only beheld the waters of that fountain, according to the Persian legend written in the nine hundredth year of the Hejira, by the goldsmith of language, Hossein ben Ali, also called El Vaëz u'l Kashifi. And it may be found in the "Anvari Soheili," which are "The Lights of Canopus."...
...Beyond the seas which are known roar the waters of that Tenebrous Ocean that is unknown to mortals. There the long breakers chant an eternal hymn, in tones unlike to the voices of other seas. And in that ocean there is an island, and in that island the Fountain of Youth unceasingly bubbles up from the mystic caverns; and it was that fountain which King Alexander, the Two-Horned, vainly sought. Only his general, the Prophet Khader, found it, whereby he became immortal. And of other mortals Solomon only beheld the waters of that fountain, according to the Persian legend written in the nine hundredth year of the Hejira, by the goldsmith of language, Hossein ben Ali, also called El Vaëz u'l Kashifi. And it may be found in the "Anvari Soheili," which are "The Lights of Canopus."...
In the Name of the Most Merciful God!... I have heard this tradition of Solomon, the unparalleled among kings, for whom all Genii, and Peris, and men, and beasts of earth, and birds of air, and creatures of the deep begirt the loins of their souls with the girdle of obedience, and whose power was measurable only by the hoofs of the horse of the Zephyr, "whose morning course is a month's journey, and whose evening course is also equal toa month's journey, upon the swiftest of earthly steeds."
...Now, Solomon being once enthroned upon the summit of the mightiest of mountains, which yet bears his name—the mountain at once overlooking the plains of Iran and the kingdoms of India—all the creatures of the universe gathered to do him honor. The birds of heaven formed a living canopy above him, and the spirits of air ministered unto him. And, as a mist rising from the earth, a perfumed cloud shaped itself before him; and from out the cloud reached a hand, fairer than moonlight, holding a diamond cup in which a strange water made jewel-glimmerings, while a voice sweeter than music spake to him from out the cloud, saying: "The Creator of all—be His nature forever glorified and His power forever honored!—hath sent me to thee, O Solomon, with this cup containing the waters of youth and of life without end. And He hath desired thee to choose freely whether thou wilt or wilt not drink of this draught from the Fountain of Youth. Therefore consider well, O Solomon! Wilt thou drink hereof, and live divinely immortal through ages everlasting, or wilt thou rather remain within the prison of humanity?... I wait."
Then a deep silence brooded above the place; for Solomon dreamed upon these words, while the perfumed cloud stirred not, and the white hand motionlessly offered the jewel-cup. And so dreaming, he said unto his own heart: "Surely the goldof life is good wherewith to purchase many things at the great market of the Resurrection; the plain of life is a rich soil wherein to plant the spice-trees of eternal felicity; and joyless is the black repose of death.... Yet must I ask counsel of the Genii, and the Peris, and the wisest of men, and the beasts of earth, and the birds of air, before I may resolve to drink."
Still the moon-white hand offered the scintillating cup, and the perfumed cloud changed not. Then the Genii, and the Peris, and the wisest of men, and the beasts of earth, and the birds of heaven, all speaking with one voice of agreement, prayed him that he should drink, inasmuch as the well-being of the world reposed upon his living wisdom, and the happiness of all creatures was sustained by the circle of his life as a jewel held within the setting of a ring of gold.
So that Solomon indeed put out his hand, and took the cup from the luminous fingers; and the fingers withdrew again into the odorous cloud. Wondrous were the lights within the water; and there was a glow of rosiness unbroken all about the cup, as of the sempiternal dawn in those islands beyond the Ocean of Shadows, where the sun rises never above the east and there is neither night nor day. But hesitating yet once more before he drank, he questioned again the creatures of the universe, asking: "O ye administering Genii and Peri beings, ye wisest among wise men, ye creatures also of air and of earth, say if there be absent from thisassembly even one representative of all over whom I hold dominion!"
And they replied: "Master, only Boutimar is not here—Boutimar the wild dove, most loving of all living creatures."
Then Solomon sent Hudh-hudh to seek the wild dove—Hudh-hudh, the bird of gold, created by the witchcraft of Balkis, Queen of Sheba, the sorceress of sorceresses; and the golden bird brought back with him Boutimar, the wild dove, most loving of all living creatures. Then it was that Solomon repeated the words of the song which he had written: "O my dove that dwellest in the clifts of the rock, in the secret hiding-places of the stairs, let me see thy face, let me hear thy voice!... Is it meet that thy lord, Solomon, shall drink of the waters of youth and know the bliss of earthly immortality?"
Then the wild dove, speaking in the tongue of birds known to Solomon only among mortals, asked the prophet-king, saying: "How shall a creature of air answer the source of wisdom? how may so feeble a mind advise thy supernal intelligence? Yet, if I must counsel, let me ask thee, O Solomon, whether the Water of Life brought hither by this perfumed spirit be for thee alone, or for all with whom thy heart might incline thee to share it?"
But Solomon answered: "It hath been sent to only me, nor is there enough within the cup for any other."
"O prophet of God!" answered Boutimar, in the tongue of birds, "how couldst thou desire to be living alone, when each of thy friends and of thy counselors and of thy children and of thy servants and of all who loved thee were counted with the dead? For all of these must surely drink the bitter waters of death, though thou shouldst drink the Water of Life. Wherefore desire everlasting youth, when the face of the world itself shall be wrinkled with age, and the eyes of the stars shall be closed by the black fingers of Azrael? When the love thou hast sung of shall have passed away like a smoke of frankincense, when the dust of the heart that beat against thine own shall have long been scattered by the four winds of heaven, when the eyes that looked for thy coming shall have become a memory, when the voices grateful to thine ear shall have been eternally stilled, when thy life shall be one oasis in a universal waste of death, and thine eternal existence but a recognition of eternal absence—wilt thou indeed care to live, though the wild dove perish when its mate cometh not?"
And Solomon, without reply, silently put out his arm and gave back the cup, so that the white hand came forth and took it, and withdrew into the odorous cloud, and the cloud dissolved and passed away forever. But upon the prophet-king's rich beard, besprinkled with powder of gold, there appeared another glitter as of clear dew—the diamond dew of the heart, which is tears.
... A bud from the Rose-Garden of the Gulistan, planted in the six hundred and fifty-sixth year of the Hejira by the Magician of Speech, the Sheikh Moslih-Eddin Sadi of Shiraz, and arranged after eight divisions corresponding with the Eight Gates of Paradise.... In the reign of the King of Kings, Abou-Bequer ben Sad, the Most Magnificent, Viceregent of Solomon, Shadow of the Most High God upon Earth.... In the Name of God the Most Merciful.
... A bud from the Rose-Garden of the Gulistan, planted in the six hundred and fifty-sixth year of the Hejira by the Magician of Speech, the Sheikh Moslih-Eddin Sadi of Shiraz, and arranged after eight divisions corresponding with the Eight Gates of Paradise.... In the reign of the King of Kings, Abou-Bequer ben Sad, the Most Magnificent, Viceregent of Solomon, Shadow of the Most High God upon Earth.... In the Name of God the Most Merciful.
... In those days there were robbers who dwelt in the mountain regions of the land, having fortresses above the eagles' nests, so that no army might successfully assail them. Their name weighed as a terror upon the land, and they closed up the ways of the caravans, and wasted the valleys, and overcame even the king's troops by their strength and their fierceness—all being mountain-born and worshipers of devouring fire. So the governors of the mountain provinces held council together, and devised cunning plans by which to allure the robbers from their inaccessible mountain dwelling, so as to destroy them utterly.
Therefore it came to pass that while the robbers were pursuing after a caravan, the bravest troops of the king concealed themselves in the defiles of the mountain, and there in silence awaited the return of the band with many rich spoils and captives of pricefor ransom. And when the robbers returned at night, hard pressed by that greatest enemy of the wary, whose name is Sleep, the Persian soldiers set upon them, and smote them, and bound their arms behind their backs, and drove them as a herd of wild sheep into the city. So they were brought into the presence of the king.
And the king commended the wisdom of the governors of the provinces, saying: "Had ye not thus prevailed against them by craft, the strength of the robbers might have waxed with each day of immunity, until it would have been beyond our power to destroy them. The spring may be closed at its mouth with a small covering; but when it shall have been swollen to a river by long flowing, a man may not cross its current even upon the back of an elephant.... Let each and all of these prisoners be forthwith put to death as robbers are put to death under our law."
But among these robbers there was a youth slender and shapely as a young palm; and the fruit of his adolescence was yet unripe, the verdure of the rose-garden of his cheeks had scarcely begun to bud. And by reason of the beauty of the boy, a kindly vizier bowed his white beard before the steps of the throne, and kissed the footstool of the king, and prayed him with words of intercession: "Hear the prayer of a slave, O Master of the World, Axis of the Circle of Time, Shadow upon Earth of the Most High God!... This child hath never eaten of thefruit of life, never hath he enjoyed the loveliness of the flower of youth.... O Master of Kings, thy slave hopes that in thy universal generosity and boundless bounty, thou wilt impose upon thy slave a fresh obligation of gratitude, by sparing the life of this child."...
Kindly was the king's heart, but his mind was keen also and clear as edge of diamond; and he knitted his brows because the discourse seemed to him unwise, and therefore pleased him not: "O vizier, dost thou not know that the influence of the good can make no impression upon the hearts of those whose origin is evil? Hast thou not heard it said that the willow giveth no fruit, however fertilizing the rain of heaven? Shall we extinguish a fire, and leave charcoal embers alight? Shall we destroy only the adult viper, and spare her young? It is better that these people be utterly destroyed, root and branch, race and name."...
But the aged vizier, bowing respectfully, again prayed the king, justly commending the wisdom of his words, but seeking exceptions and parables from the sayings of the wise and the traditions of the prophets: "The words of the Successor of Solomon are wisdom supreme to thy slave; and were this boy indeed raised up by the wicked, he would surely become as they. Yet thy slave believes that were he educated only by the best of men, he might become most virtuous. Nor would thy slave spare aught requisite to adorn the boy's heart and to makeblossom the garden of his mind.... The prophetical tradition saith: 'There is no child born of woman that is not naturally born into Islam, though his father and mother might afterward make him a Jew, a Christian, or a Gheber.... And even the dog Kitmir, that followed and guarded the Seven Holy Sleepers of Mecca, was able to enter Paradise by seizing with his teeth the hem of their blessed robes."...