  A terror both of gods and men Was Heerun Kasyapu, the king; No bear more sullen in its den, No tiger quicker at the spring. In strength of limb he had not met, Since first his black flag he unfurled, Nor in audacious courage, yet, His equal in the wide, wide world. The holy Veds he tore in shreds; Libations, sacrifices, rites, He made all penal; and the heads Of Bramins slain, he flung to kites, "I hold the sceptre in my hand, I sit upon the ivory throne, Bow down to me—'tis my command, And worship me, and me alone. "No god has ever me withstood, Why raise ye altars?—cease your pains! I shall protect you, give you food, If ye obey,—or else the chains." Fled at such edicts, self-exiled, The Bramins and the pundits wise, To live thenceforth in forests wild, Or caves in hills that touch the skies. In secret there, they altars raised, And made oblations due by fire, Their gods, their wonted gods, they praised, Lest these should earth destroy in ire; They read the Veds, they prayed and mused, Full well they knew that Time would bring For favours scorned, and gifts misused, Undreamt of changes on his wing. Time changes deserts bare to meads, And fertile meads to deserts bare, Cities to pools, and pools with reeds To towns and cities large and fair. Time changes purple into rags, And rags to purple. Chime by chime, Whether it flies, or runs, or drags— The wise wait patiently on Time. Time brought the tyrant children four, Rahd, Onoorahd, Prehlad, Sunghrad, Who made his castle gray and hoar, Once full of gloom, with sunshine glad. No boys were e'er more beautiful, No brothers e'er loved more each other, No sons were e'er more dutiful, Nor ever kissed a fonder mother. Nor less beloved were they of him Who gave them birth, Kasyapu proud, But made by nature stern and grim, His love was covered by a cloud From which it rarely e'er emerged, To gladden these sweet human flowers. They grew apace, and now Time urged The education of their powers. Who should their teacher be? A man Among the flatterers in the court Was found, well-suited to the plan The tyrant had devised. Report Gave him a wisdom owned by few, And certainly to trim his sail, And veer his bark, none better knew, Before a changing adverse gale. And Sonda Marco,—such his name,— Took home the four fair boys to teach All knowledge that their years became, Science, and war, and modes of speech, But he was told, if death he feared, Never to tell them of the soul, Of vows, and prayers, and rites revered, And of the gods who all control. The sciences the boys were taught They mastered with a quickness strange, But Prehlad was the one for thought, He soared above the lesson's range. One day the tutor unseen heard The boy discuss forbidden themes, As if his inmost heart were stirred, And he of truth from heaven had gleams. "O Prince, what mean'st thou?" In his fright The teacher thus in private said— "Talk on such subjects is not right, Wouldst thou bring ruin on my head? There are no gods except the king, The ruler of the world is he! Look up to him, and do not bring Destruction by a speech too free. "Be wary for thy own sake, child, If he should hear thee talking so, Thou shalt for ever be exiled, And I shall die, full well I know. Worthy of worship, honour, praise, Is thy great father. Things unseen, What are they?—Themes of poets' lays! They are not and have never been." Smiling, the boy, with folded hands, As sign of a submission meek, Answered his tutor. "Thy commands Are ever precious. Do not seek To lay upon me what I feel Would be unrighteous. Let me hear Those inner voices that reveal Long vistas in another sphere. "The gods that rule the earth and sea, Shall I abjure them and adore A man? It may not, may not be; Though I should lie in pools of gore My conscience I would hurt no more; But I shall follow what my heart Tells me is right, so I implore My purpose fixed no longer thwart. "The coward calls black white, white black, At bidding, or in fear of death; Such suppleness, thank God, I lack, To die is but to lose my breath. Is death annihilation? No. New worlds will open on my view, When persecuted hence I go, The right is right,—the true is true." All's over now, the teacher thought, Now let this reach the monarch's ear! And instant death shall be my lot. They parted, he in abject fear. And soon he heard a choral song Sung by young voices in the praise Of gods unseen, who right all wrong, And rule the worlds from primal days. |
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