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+Project Gutenberg's Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII
+
+Author: Anonymous
+
+Translator: R. Hale Wortham
+
+Posting Date: March 19, 2014 [EBook #7169]
+Release Date: December, 2004
+First Posted: March 20, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MÂRKANDEYA PURÂNA, BOOKS VII. VIII ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chetan Jain, John B. Hare, and Christopher M.
+Weimer. HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  Mârkandeya Purâna
+
+
+
+  Books VII and VIII.
+
+
+
+  JOURNAL
+
+  OF
+
+  THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+  [New Series, Volume XIII]
+
+  [London, Trübner and Company]
+
+  [1881]
+
+
+  {Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002}
+
+
+
+  ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Mârka.n.deya Purâ.na.__
+  Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
+
+
+
+  BOOK VII.
+
+
+  ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
+  Named Harišchandra; pure in heart and mind,
+  In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
+  Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned
+  No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
+  Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
+  Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,
+  And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
+  Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
+  And loveliness the women passed their days.
+
+  It so fell out, that while this mighty king
+  Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
+  The sound of female voices raised in cry
+  Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,
+  Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
+  Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
+  That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
+  The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
+  Then, too, the fierce Ganeša,--he who blinds
+  The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
+  The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
+  "This surely is the great ascetic's work,
+  The mighty Višvâmitra; he whose acts
+  Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
+  Upon the sciences he shows his power,
+  While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
+  And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
+  'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kaušika
+  Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
+  Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?
+  My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought
+  Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
+  Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
+  And entering his heart, I will fulfil
+  All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son--
+  Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
+  Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
+  Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
+  While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
+  Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
+  Surely the never-ending sleep of death
+  Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
+  Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
+  Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
+  Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
+  With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
+  Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
+
+  But when the king beheld the pious sage
+  All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
+  And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
+  Then Višvâmitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
+  And Harišchandra, humbly falling down
+  Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
+  "O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
+  Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!
+  My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
+  "Is it not written in the Holy Law,
+  'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
+  His people must be fought for, and be kept
+  From every ill'?"  Then Višvâmitra spoke
+  And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
+  For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
+  Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,
+  But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
+  "Alms should be given to Brâhmans," said the king:
+  "Those who are weak should be protected: foes
+  In battle should be met and overcome."
+
+  Then Višvâmitra spoke and said: "O king!
+  If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
+  Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
+  I am a holy Brâhman, and I seek
+  A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
+  A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
+  The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
+  Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
+  "Fear not! but tell me, son of Kaušika,
+  Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,
+  Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.
+  Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?
+  Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?
+  Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"
+  The sage replied, "thy present I accept;
+  But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,--
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice."
+  "O Brâhman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;
+  Further than this, whatever be the gift
+  Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.
+  Ask what thou wilt."  Then Višvâmitra spake:
+  "Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,
+  With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;
+  Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;
+  Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside
+  Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,
+  I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,
+  And this thy righteousness, that follows close
+  Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art
+  Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all--
+  All beside these.  What need of further words."
+
+  The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged
+  In countenance, hearing the sage's words,
+  Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,
+  "So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"
+  Said Višvâmitra, "if the world is mine,
+  And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,
+  Since in this kingdom as a devotee
+  I dwell?"  Then Harišchandra said: "'Ere this,
+  Before the world was thine by my free gift,
+  Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?
+  Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:
+  "If this indeed be so,--if the whole world
+  Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,
+  Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself
+  Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,
+  But, casting off thy royal ornaments,
+  Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."
+  The king, obedient to the sage's word,
+  Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife
+  And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:
+  "Stop, Harišchandra!  Hast thou then forgot
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice
+  That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:
+  "O mighty saint! the kingdom now is __thine__;
+  All have I given to __thee__: and as for me,
+  What have I left?--nought! save myself,
+  My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"
+  Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice.
+  And this know well:  A vow to Brâhmans made,
+  If unfulfilled, works special woe to him
+  Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice
+  Must offerings of worth be freely made
+  To Brâhmans;--offerings until they cry
+  Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay
+  Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.
+  'Alms are for Brâhmans,' thou thyself hast said,
+  'Those who are weak must be protected: foes
+  In battle must be met and overcome.'"
+  "O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth
+  Is all departed: nothing now remains
+  For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,
+  And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"
+  Said Višvâmitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say
+  What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?
+  Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire
+  Shall burn thee up."  Then Harišchandra said:
+  "Most holy Brâhman! when a month has past
+  The money for the offering shall be thine.
+  Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant
+  Remission for the present."  Said the sage,
+  "Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!
+  And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies
+  Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king
+  Departed as an outcast;--he, the king
+  Of all the earth, an exile with his wife
+  Unused to go afoot, and with his son
+  Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose
+  On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,
+  Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!
+  Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness
+  Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full
+  Of mercy, may it overflow on us.
+  Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze
+  With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.
+  Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?
+  How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once
+  Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,
+  Who marched on foot; while stately elephants
+  Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!
+  Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!
+  Think, Harišchandra! how wilt thou endure
+  The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,
+  Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us
+  Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.
+  Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,
+  Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all
+  Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,
+  We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!
+  For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,
+  And heaven itself would be no heaven to us
+  Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief
+  At these laments, the king stayed on his course,
+  In pity for his loving citizens.
+  Then Višvâmitra, filled with rage, his eyes
+  Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!
+  O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.
+  How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!
+  Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,
+  And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!
+  I go!" replied the king to these rude words,
+  And trembling crept away in haste, his wife
+  Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,
+  Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,
+  The Brâhman smote her fiercely with his stick.
+  Then Harišchandra, pained with inmost grief,
+  Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"
+  Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,
+  The Višvadevas said: "What sin is this?
+  What torments shall indeed suffice for him
+  By whom this pious king--the offerer
+  Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.
+  Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
+  With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,
+  That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"
+
+  Then, having heard these words, the Brâhman turned
+  Upon the Višvedevâs; and, in wrath
+  Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:
+  "You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
+  And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed
+  His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,
+  The sage yet further added: "you shall live
+  Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born
+  To you no son, nor shall you know the state
+  Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
+  Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time
+  Has past, you shall re-enter once again
+  The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
+  Which you had lost."  The Višvedevâs then
+  Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,
+  Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
+  Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pâ.n.davas--
+  Mighty in war--by Višvâmitra cursed,
+  Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard
+  The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,
+  Of fourfold import has been answered.
+  I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
+
+
+
+
+  BOOK VIII.
+
+
+  Said Jaimîni: An answer ye have found
+  To all my questions; and indeed have filled
+  Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long
+  To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!
+  What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain
+  To any comfort answering to his woe?
+  Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.
+
+  The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,
+  O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words
+  Of Višvâmitra, with his wife and son
+  Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
+  At length the holy place appeared in view--
+  The shrine of Å iva; thus within himself,
+  He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,
+  Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,
+  For there man has no power."  The king approached
+  The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood
+  The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  Mighty Saint!
+  The king, his hands in supplication joined,
+  With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,
+  My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
+  Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose
+  Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage
+  Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
+  Give me the present for the sacrifice--
+  The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day
+  As yet remains before the month be past,
+  Oh Brâhman of surpassing piety,
+  And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,
+  A few short hours."  Then Višvâmitra said:
+  "So be it, king! once more I will return,
+  But if the offering be not duly paid,
+  Before the sinking of this evening's sun,
+  My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest
+  Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,
+  Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?
+  The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
+  I may not beg for alms; how can I then
+  Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world
+  Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,
+  If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass
+  From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;
+  I shall become the lowest of the low.
+  Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,
+  Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears
+  Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,
+  With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,
+  "Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!
+  The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
+  Like contact with the dead.  The highest law
+  Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
+  Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,
+  The study of the scriptures, penances,
+  Are counted not for righteousness to him
+  Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!
+  Is it not written in the sacred law:
+  'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
+  While lies and falsehood are destruction's way
+  To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,
+  'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
+  The kingly sacrifice--burnt offerings too,
+  Were offered in abundance.  That same king
+  Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,
+  He lost his righteousness, and forfeited
+  His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"--
+  Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
+  But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,
+  With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!
+  He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
+  Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,
+  "Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born
+  To none but worthy women.  This my son
+  Shall take me--he shall offer me for sale--
+  Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest
+  The promised offering."  Hearing these words,
+  He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,
+  Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,
+  Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!
+  Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
+  Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"--
+  His spirit fled again, and to the earth
+  He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,
+  The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!
+  How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
+  The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
+  A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,
+  By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given
+  An offering to the Brâhman--see, he lies
+  Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!
+  Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,
+  Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
+  Against you, that he lies thus overcome
+  With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense
+  Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,
+  Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy
+  Beheld his parents lying on the ground,
+  He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
+  Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile
+  Upon the scene the mighty Brâhman came;
+  And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--
+  Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
+  "Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;
+  For this thy misery from day to day
+  Increases, and will yet increase, until
+  The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch
+  Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
+  But when he saw the Brâhman, faintness seized
+  His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage
+  Seized Višvâmitra; but before he left,
+  The best of Brâhmans said: "If what is just,
+  Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!
+  Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine
+  The sun sends forth his vivifying rays
+  Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world
+  Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.
+  By truth the very heaven itself exists.
+  Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale
+  Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
+  And sacrifices countless, still the truth
+  Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste
+  My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
+  An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
+  Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
+  With thee.  Yet hear me;--if the offering
+  Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
+  Behind the western mountain to his rest,
+  My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these
+  The Brâhman left him; and the king, o'ercome
+  With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
+  Degraded to unfathomable depths--
+  The victim of his evil creditor--
+  Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
+  "O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
+  Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,
+  The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
+  What the most wicked man could hardly do,
+  That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
+  Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
+  And going with his wife into the town--
+  Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
+  "Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
+  A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
+  I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
+  I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?
+  Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"
+  (So spake an ancient Brâhman to the king.)
+  "Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
+  You well for her.  My wife is delicate;
+  Her household duties are beyond her strength;
+  I want a slave, and therefore I will give
+  A price proportioned to the woman's skill
+  And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
+  And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,
+  That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king
+  Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,
+  Tying the price in the king's garment-hem--
+  His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped the queen,
+  And dragged her off.  But when the loving child
+  Beheld his mother led away, he seized
+  Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:
+  "If only for a moment, noble sir!
+  Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more
+  Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
+  And never touch again!  My child, behold
+  Thy mother, now a slave! And thou--a prince!
+  Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude
+  Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,
+  His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,
+  Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,
+  The Brâhman spurned him with his foot; but he
+  Still following close would not be torn from her,
+  Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,
+  Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy
+  My son with me; divide us not!  For I
+  Without him shall be nought of use to you.
+  Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:
+  "Here! take the money! give the boy to me!
+  The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained
+  The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied
+  The money in the king's bark dress, and led
+  Them both away--the mother and the child--
+  Together bound.  But when the king beheld
+  Himself bereft of both his wife and son,
+  He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,
+  Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
+  Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave
+  Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!--
+  A scion of the noble dynasty,
+  Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,
+  And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
+  Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
+  Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke
+  The king.  Meanwhile the Brâhman hastily
+  Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
+  And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king
+  The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  "Prince!" he said,
+  Pay me the offering!"  Harišchandra gave
+  The money gainèd by the shameful sale
+  Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld
+  The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
+  "How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
+  Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this
+  Suffices for a sacrificial gift
+  Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind
+  Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power--
+  Power transcendant, gained by penances,
+  And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power
+  Of my pure Brâhmanhood shall show itself
+  On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,
+  "But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!
+  Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied
+  The Brâhman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time
+  Than the remaining fourth part of to-day
+  I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,
+  Departing with the money.  And the king,
+  Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,
+  Cried out: "If there be any one of you
+  Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak
+  While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on
+  The form of a Cha.n.dâla, hastily
+  Came forward, taking pity on the king.
+  His countenance was fearful,--black, with tusks
+  Projecting; savage in his words; his smell
+  Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs
+  Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;
+  "Be quick; and whether it be large or small
+  I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"
+  The king, beholding such a loathsome form,
+  Of mien revolting--"What art thou?" he said.
+  "Men call me a Cha.n.dâla," he replied.
+  I dwell in this same city--in a part
+  Of evil fame.  As of a murderer
+  Condemned to death, such is my infamy.
+  My calling is a robber of the dead."
+  "I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,
+  "To thee, a base Cha.n.dâla.  Better far
+  That I should perish by the fiery curse."
+  The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint
+  Returned, his countenance with rage
+  Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:
+  "The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept
+  The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay
+  The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."
+  "O son of Kušika!" replied the king,
+  "Consider this, I pray!--my noble race!
+  Truly am I descended from the sun!
+  How can I then become, though sore in want,
+  Lowest of creatures--a Cha.n.dâla's slave?"
+  "Delay no more," the Brâhman said, "but pay
+  The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave
+  To the Cha.n.dâla--or assuredly
+  I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"
+  The king entreated; and, immersed in care,
+  He seized the Brâhman's feet, exclaiming thus:
+  "What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!
+  Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!
+  Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,
+  From this most horrible Cha.n.dâla.  Sir!
+  Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will
+  Be all the object of my life!  To serve
+  Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!
+  Thus will I make the offering--I will be
+  Thy __slave__!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art
+  My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave
+  To the Cha.n.dâla."  Then, filled with delight,
+  Paying the money, the Švapâka bound
+  His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,
+  Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;
+  In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dâla's house
+  Abiding--morning, noon, and eventide,
+  And night, the king thus made lament:
+  "Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,
+  Looking upon her son in misery,
+  Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king
+  Will surely ransom us, for he has gained
+  By now more money than the Brâhman paid
+  For us;' and all the time she little knows
+  My fate--worse than her own.  For I have passed
+  From woe to woe--kingdom and friends--my wife,
+  My son, have passed from me, and now the state
+  Of a Cha.n.dâla holds me."  While he dwelt
+  A slave in the Cha.n.dâla's house, the forms
+  Of those he loved were still before his eyes--
+  Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,
+  Obedient to his master's will, became
+  A robber of the dead; and night and day
+  He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil
+  Is for the king, three for thy master, two
+  For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,
+  Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."
+  Obeying the Cha.n.dâla, to the place
+  Of burial he went;--an awful place,
+  Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights--
+  Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair
+  Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,
+  Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.
+  Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'
+  Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn
+  With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,
+  Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.
+  The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,
+  Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,
+  They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time
+  The howl of demons and the wail of fiends
+  Were mingled with the roar of flames--a sound
+  Of fearful import, such as ushers in
+  The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells--
+  The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,
+  Blackened with filth--the smoke, the shouts,
+  The yells--struck fear on fear into the heart.
+  The burial-place resembled nought but hell.
+  Such was the place appointed for the king.
+  "Priests! Brâhmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen
+  From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!
+  Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!
+  We have been torn asunder by the power
+  Of Višvâmitra."  Thoughts like these possessed
+  His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,
+  He served his master.  Running here and there,
+  Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,
+  From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,
+  Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags
+  Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet
+  With dust and ashes from the funeral piles
+  Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh
+  From contact with the bodies of the dead.
+  So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.
+  And twelve months passed--twelve weary months, which seemed
+  To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;
+  And then at last, worn out, the best of kings
+  Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch
+  All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw
+  A wondrous vision.  By the power divine
+  He seemed to wear another form,--a form
+  Both new and strange,--and in that form to pay
+  The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed
+  With difficulty.  Then within himself
+  King Harišchandra thought: "So too will I,
+  When I am freed from hence, perform my vows
+  With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born
+  As a Pukkasa; while a place was found
+  For him among the dead, and funeral rites
+  Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years
+  Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought
+  A Brâhman seeking sepulture: in life
+  He had been poor, but honest; and the king,
+  Though he knew this--the dead man's poverty
+  And his uprightness--pressed his friends to pay
+  The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,
+  "And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:
+  Once upon earth there was a mighty king
+  Named Harišchandra; though he but disturbed
+  A Brâhman's sleep, through that offence he lost
+  His merit, and by Višvâmitra's curse
+  Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king
+  Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required
+  His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage--
+  "Go!--go!--thou most degraded of mankind--
+  Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream
+  The king beheld the messengers of death.
+  Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,
+  They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,
+  And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,
+  Headlong he fell into the bath of oil
+  In Nâraka.  There, torn with instruments
+  Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,
+  He saw himself.  For seven years in hell--
+  Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,
+  Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds
+  Frozen and numbed--a dead Pukkasa's fate
+  He underwent.  Each day in Nâraka,
+  A hundred years of mortal reckoning--
+  So count the demons who inhabit hell.
+  Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,
+  His spirit entering a filthy dog;
+  Feeding on things all foul and horrible--
+  Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.
+  His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw
+  Himself an ass; and after that an ox,
+  A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.
+  So day by day he saw his spirit change
+  Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms--
+  Some moving, others rooted to the ground--
+  Received his soul.  And when the hundred years
+  Were passed and gone, he saw himself again
+  Re-occupy his pristine human form--
+  Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose
+  His kingdom, casting it away in games
+  Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer
+  Into the forest with his wife and child:
+  Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised
+  To life again on earth, he sore bewailed
+  His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?
+  Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"
+  Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife
+  And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do
+  With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"
+  The vision faded, and he saw no more
+  The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned
+  By power divine.  And Harišchandra stood
+  In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,
+  With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along--
+  Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,
+  "Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,
+  The demons hurried him before the judge;
+  And Harišchandra seemed to hear the words:
+  "Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief
+  Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long
+  Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain
+  Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky
+  By Yama's messengers, falling through space--
+  Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain
+  Yet more exceeding--thought within himself,
+  "How shall I suffer all these torments sore!--
+  The changes manifold of form--the pain
+  In Nâraka."  Then Harišchandra sought
+  Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,
+  "Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!
+  O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,
+  O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,
+  Both far and near, before you now I come,
+  A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,
+  I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee
+  O ancient one! I pray--immutable!"
+  The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.
+  His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,
+  Recalled to him his state--the plunderer
+  Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,
+  He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,
+  For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,
+  And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,
+  Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed
+  His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen
+  Came, bearing the dead body of her son--
+  Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!
+  My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw
+  Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!
+  O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said--
+  "Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,
+  Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!
+  So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,
+  Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste
+  To rob the dead: nor did he recognize
+  His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief
+  As if into another.  And the queen
+  Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed
+  In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.
+  Then recollection dawned upon the king,
+  Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought
+  Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!
+  What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!
+  A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,
+  Long lost to me through my accursed fate,
+  Would have been even such as thou in age."
+  Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:
+  "Alas! has some unexpiated crime
+  Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.
+  My absent lord! since thou did'st not console
+  My grief in times gone by, how can the pain
+  I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose
+  Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?
+  Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king
+  Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail
+  Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again
+  His wife and son--and saying but the words,
+  "Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"
+  He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,
+  Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,
+  Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness
+  Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight
+  And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"
+  Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,
+  When I behold thy form so delicate:
+  My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,
+  Words of affection I will speak, that rise
+  Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs
+  Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust
+  That clings about my garments will pollute
+  Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st
+  An evil father!  He who should have kept
+  All dangers from thee, he it was who sold
+  Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind
+  First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!
+  Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this
+  By lawful right was thine inheritance,
+  And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears
+  Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,
+  In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,
+  Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering
+  With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:
+  "This is indeed my lord--I know his voice!
+  I know his form! this is the mighty king.
+  The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!
+  What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place
+  For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more
+  Is added to the mourning for my son--
+  My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves
+  A base Cha.n.dâla.  Curséd be that god,
+  Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king
+  Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot
+  Of a Švapâka.  Ah! most noble prince,
+  My mind is filled with grief, when I recall
+  Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.
+  No kingly ensigns go before thee now,
+  No captive kings, brought down to slavery,
+  Humbly precede thee, casting in the way
+  Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.
+  But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,
+  Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed
+  With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair
+  Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes
+  Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life
+  Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,
+  And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:
+  While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed
+  Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!
+  Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,
+  Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled
+  And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,
+  Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods
+  Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence
+  If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,
+  Art brought to such a depth of infamy."
+  Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife
+  How he had fallen to this wretched state,--
+  The state of a Cha.n.dâla.  She, in turn,
+  Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,
+  Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed
+  Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not
+  These evils," said the king, "by mine own will--
+  Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate
+  Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,
+  And if I fly from the Cha.n.dâla's bonds,
+  The fiery torment in the depths of hell
+  Will overtake me, and I shall become
+  A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell
+  Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,
+  Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.
+  Yet from this miserable life on earth
+  There is one only refuge.  He! my son!
+  My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea
+  Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!
+  I am dependent on another's will!
+  Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!
+  For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe
+  Cares not for evil chances; not the state
+  Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood
+  Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,
+  Could add the smallest fraction to the pain
+  I have already borne.  My son is dead!
+  Who then will make atonement for my sins?
+  Yet listen to my words, beloved one,
+  If I have offered sacrifice, and paid
+  Due reverence to the saints; if I have given
+  Alms to the needy--may we meet again
+  Hereafter, in the world to come, and find
+  The refuge for our woes denied us here.
+  Let us together follow in the path
+  By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate
+  Can never alter here.  Whatever words
+  I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,
+  These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive
+  Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise
+  Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state
+  Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:
+  "I am prepared to tread that path with thee,
+  O king, most saintly! and with thee that world
+  To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king
+  Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon
+  His son, himself ascending with his wife.
+  And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought
+  Upon Nârâyana, the lord supreme,
+  And Vâsudeva, lord of deities,
+  Šiva, and Brâhma the eternal god,
+  And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king
+  Was meditating, all the gods from heaven
+  Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:
+  "Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods--
+  Even the mighty gods have come to earth,
+  And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,
+  And heroes--yea, and Višvâmitra too,
+  The sage implacable,--all summon thee--
+  Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,
+  That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!
+  I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee
+  To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained
+  By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,
+  Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:--
+  "O Harišchandra! King, most eminent!
+  In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands--
+  For I am he.  The everlasting world
+  Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,
+  And son, ascend to heaven;--to that third heav'n--
+  So difficult to be attained by men--
+  The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained
+  Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers
+  That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds
+  Of music filled the air, and round him stood
+  The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son
+  Of Harišchandra rose, restored to life,
+  And health, his mind and senses whole, his form
+  More beautiful than ever: and the king
+  Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy
+  Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.
+  Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,
+  Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself
+  Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."
+  Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!
+  Unbidden by my master, will I not
+  To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:
+  "I am thy master.  I assumed the form
+  Of a Cha.n.dâla.  All thy pain and woe
+  Was brought upon thee by my magic power,
+  And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld
+  Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!
+  The highest place that heaven accords to men,
+  Whose virtue has been tried and proved:--to that
+  Ascend!"  But Harišchandra answering, said:
+  "Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise
+  And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee
+  Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand
+  With grieving hearts, longing for my return.
+  Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth
+  Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,
+  Brâhmans, or teachers of the holy law,--
+  If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,--
+  Then may my labours and my toils atone,
+  For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.
+  For neither here, nor in the world to come,
+  Can there be peace to one who casts aside
+  The friend whose love is pure and true--the friend
+  Who serves him from the heart.  Return!
+  Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant
+  My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I
+  Ascend; if not, with them will I descend
+  To Nâraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!
+  Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,
+  Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained
+  A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.
+  Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave
+  My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king
+  His kingdom rules; by them he offers up
+  The kingly sacrifice, and for himself
+  Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.
+  So have my kinsmen too enabled me
+  To work whate'er I may of righteousness.
+  My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,
+  Truly I owe to them, for by their aid
+  Have these been possible.  May the reward
+  Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.
+  My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,
+  I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;
+  "So be it!" said the Brâhman; Dharma, too,
+  Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,
+  Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:
+  "Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."
+  The saintly Brâhman, having heard with joy
+  The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil
+  Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
+  The sages, and the gods, anointed him
+  "Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng--
+  The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
+  Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
+  To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
+  Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy--
+  The mighty father, who eternal bliss
+  Both for his people and himself had gained,
+  Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
+  Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
+  Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
+  And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
+  Great Harišchandra's equal has not been
+  Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,
+  His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
+  For him lament, transcendant happiness
+  Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
+  Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,
+  Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
+  E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates
+  The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
+  Like him shall enter everlasting rest.
+
+
+
+  Mârkandeya Purâna
+
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+End of Project Gutenberg's Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
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+Project Gutenberg's Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII
+
+Author: Anonymous
+
+Translator: R. Hale Wortham
+
+Posting Date: March 19, 2014 [EBook #7169]
+Release Date: December, 2004
+First Posted: March 20, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MÂRKANDEYA PURÂNA, BOOKS VII. VIII ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chetan Jain, John B. Hare, and Christopher M.
+Weimer. HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  Mârkandeya Purâna
+
+  Books VII and VIII.
+
+
+
+  JOURNAL
+
+  OF
+
+  THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+  [New Series, Volume XIII]
+
+  [London, Trübner and Company]
+
+  [1881]
+
+
+  Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002
+
+
+
+  ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Mârkandeya Purâna__
+  Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
+
+
+
+  BOOK VII.
+
+
+  ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
+  Named Harišchandra; pure in heart and mind,
+  In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
+  Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned
+  No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
+  Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
+  Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,
+  And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
+  Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
+  And loveliness the women passed their days.
+
+  It so fell out, that while this mighty king
+  Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
+  The sound of female voices raised in cry
+  Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,
+  Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
+  Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
+  That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
+  The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
+  Then, too, the fierce Ganeša,--he who blinds
+  The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
+  The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
+  "This surely is the great ascetic's work,
+  The mighty Višvâmitra; he whose acts
+  Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
+  Upon the sciences he shows his power,
+  While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
+  And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
+  'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kaušika
+  Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
+  Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?
+  My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought
+  Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
+  Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
+  And entering his heart, I will fulfil
+  All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son--
+  Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
+  Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
+  Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
+  While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
+  Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
+  Surely the never-ending sleep of death
+  Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
+  Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
+  Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
+  Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
+  With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
+  Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
+
+  But when the king beheld the pious sage
+  All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
+  And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
+  Then Višvâmitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
+  And Harišchandra, humbly falling down
+  Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
+  "O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
+  Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!
+  My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
+  "Is it not written in the Holy Law,
+  'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
+  His people must be fought for, and be kept
+  From every ill'?"  Then Višvâmitra spoke
+  And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
+  For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
+  Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,
+  But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
+  "Alms should be given to Brâhmans," said the king:
+  "Those who are weak should be protected: foes
+  In battle should be met and overcome."
+
+  Then Višvâmitra spoke and said: "O king!
+  If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
+  Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
+  I am a holy Brâhman, and I seek
+  A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
+  A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
+  The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
+  Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
+  "Fear not! but tell me, son of Kaušika,
+  Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,
+  Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.
+  Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?
+  Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?
+  Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"
+  The sage replied, "thy present I accept;
+  But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,--
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice."
+  "O Brâhman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;
+  Further than this, whatever be the gift
+  Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.
+  Ask what thou wilt."  Then Višvâmitra spake:
+  "Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,
+  With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;
+  Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;
+  Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside
+  Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,
+  I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,
+  And this thy righteousness, that follows close
+  Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art
+  Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all--
+  All beside these.  What need of further words."
+
+  The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged
+  In countenance, hearing the sage's words,
+  Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,
+  "So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"
+  Said Višvâmitra, "if the world is mine,
+  And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,
+  Since in this kingdom as a devotee
+  I dwell?"  Then Harišchandra said: "'Ere this,
+  Before the world was thine by my free gift,
+  Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?
+  Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:
+  "If this indeed be so,--if the whole world
+  Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,
+  Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself
+  Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,
+  But, casting off thy royal ornaments,
+  Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."
+  The king, obedient to the sage's word,
+  Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife
+  And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:
+  "Stop, Harišchandra!  Hast thou then forgot
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice
+  That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:
+  "O mighty saint! the kingdom now is __thine__;
+  All have I given to __thee__: and as for me,
+  What have I left?--nought! save myself,
+  My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"
+  Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice.
+  And this know well:  A vow to Brâhmans made,
+  If unfulfilled, works special woe to him
+  Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice
+  Must offerings of worth be freely made
+  To Brâhmans;--offerings until they cry
+  Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay
+  Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.
+  'Alms are for Brâhmans,' thou thyself hast said,
+  'Those who are weak must be protected: foes
+  In battle must be met and overcome.'"
+  "O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth
+  Is all departed: nothing now remains
+  For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,
+  And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"
+  Said Višvâmitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say
+  What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?
+  Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire
+  Shall burn thee up."  Then Harišchandra said:
+  "Most holy Brâhman! when a month has past
+  The money for the offering shall be thine.
+  Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant
+  Remission for the present."  Said the sage,
+  "Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!
+  And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies
+  Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king
+  Departed as an outcast;--he, the king
+  Of all the earth, an exile with his wife
+  Unused to go afoot, and with his son
+  Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose
+  On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,
+  Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!
+  Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness
+  Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full
+  Of mercy, may it overflow on us.
+  Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze
+  With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.
+  Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?
+  How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once
+  Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,
+  Who marched on foot; while stately elephants
+  Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!
+  Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!
+  Think, Harišchandra! how wilt thou endure
+  The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,
+  Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us
+  Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.
+  Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,
+  Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all
+  Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,
+  We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!
+  For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,
+  And heaven itself would be no heaven to us
+  Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief
+  At these laments, the king stayed on his course,
+  In pity for his loving citizens.
+  Then Višvâmitra, filled with rage, his eyes
+  Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!
+  O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.
+  How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!
+  Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,
+  And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!
+  I go!" replied the king to these rude words,
+  And trembling crept away in haste, his wife
+  Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,
+  Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,
+  The Brâhman smote her fiercely with his stick.
+  Then Harišchandra, pained with inmost grief,
+  Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"
+  Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,
+  The Višvadevas said: "What sin is this?
+  What torments shall indeed suffice for him
+  By whom this pious king--the offerer
+  Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.
+  Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
+  With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,
+  That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"
+
+  Then, having heard these words, the Brâhman turned
+  Upon the Višvedevâs; and, in wrath
+  Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:
+  "You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
+  And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed
+  His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,
+  The sage yet further added: "you shall live
+  Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born
+  To you no son, nor shall you know the state
+  Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
+  Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time
+  Has past, you shall re-enter once again
+  The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
+  Which you had lost."  The Višvedevâs then
+  Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,
+  Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
+  Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pâ.n.davas--
+  Mighty in war--by Višvâmitra cursed,
+  Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard
+  The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,
+  Of fourfold import has been answered.
+  I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
+
+
+
+
+  BOOK VIII.
+
+
+  Said Jaimîni: An answer ye have found
+  To all my questions; and indeed have filled
+  Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long
+  To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!
+  What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain
+  To any comfort answering to his woe?
+  Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.
+
+  The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,
+  O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words
+  Of Višvâmitra, with his wife and son
+  Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
+  At length the holy place appeared in view--
+  The shrine of Šiva; thus within himself,
+  He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,
+  Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,
+  For there man has no power."  The king approached
+  The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood
+  The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  Mighty Saint!
+  The king, his hands in supplication joined,
+  With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,
+  My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
+  Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose
+  Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage
+  Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
+  Give me the present for the sacrifice--
+  The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day
+  As yet remains before the month be past,
+  Oh Brâhman of surpassing piety,
+  And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,
+  A few short hours."  Then Višvâmitra said:
+  "So be it, king! once more I will return,
+  But if the offering be not duly paid,
+  Before the sinking of this evening's sun,
+  My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest
+  Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,
+  Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?
+  The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
+  I may not beg for alms; how can I then
+  Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world
+  Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,
+  If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass
+  From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;
+  I shall become the lowest of the low.
+  Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,
+  Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears
+  Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,
+  With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,
+  "Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!
+  The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
+  Like contact with the dead.  The highest law
+  Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
+  Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,
+  The study of the scriptures, penances,
+  Are counted not for righteousness to him
+  Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!
+  Is it not written in the sacred law:
+  'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
+  While lies and falsehood are destruction's way
+  To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,
+  'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
+  The kingly sacrifice--burnt offerings too,
+  Were offered in abundance.  That same king
+  Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,
+  He lost his righteousness, and forfeited
+  His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"--
+  Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
+  But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,
+  With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!
+  He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
+  Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,
+  "Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born
+  To none but worthy women.  This my son
+  Shall take me--he shall offer me for sale--
+  Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest
+  The promised offering."  Hearing these words,
+  He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,
+  Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,
+  Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!
+  Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
+  Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"--
+  His spirit fled again, and to the earth
+  He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,
+  The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!
+  How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
+  The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
+  A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,
+  By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given
+  An offering to the Brâhman--see, he lies
+  Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!
+  Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,
+  Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
+  Against you, that he lies thus overcome
+  With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense
+  Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,
+  Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy
+  Beheld his parents lying on the ground,
+  He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
+  Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile
+  Upon the scene the mighty Brâhman came;
+  And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--
+  Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
+  "Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;
+  For this thy misery from day to day
+  Increases, and will yet increase, until
+  The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch
+  Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
+  But when he saw the Brâhman, faintness seized
+  His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage
+  Seized Višvâmitra; but before he left,
+  The best of Brâhmans said: "If what is just,
+  Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!
+  Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine
+  The sun sends forth his vivifying rays
+  Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world
+  Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.
+  By truth the very heaven itself exists.
+  Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale
+  Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
+  And sacrifices countless, still the truth
+  Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste
+  My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
+  An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
+  Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
+  With thee.  Yet hear me;--if the offering
+  Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
+  Behind the western mountain to his rest,
+  My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these
+  The Brâhman left him; and the king, o'ercome
+  With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
+  Degraded to unfathomable depths--
+  The victim of his evil creditor--
+  Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
+  "O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
+  Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,
+  The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
+  What the most wicked man could hardly do,
+  That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
+  Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
+  And going with his wife into the town--
+  Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
+  "Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
+  A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
+  I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
+  I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?
+  Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"
+  (So spake an ancient Brâhman to the king.)
+  "Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
+  You well for her.  My wife is delicate;
+  Her household duties are beyond her strength;
+  I want a slave, and therefore I will give
+  A price proportioned to the woman's skill
+  And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
+  And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,
+  That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king
+  Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,
+  Tying the price in the king's garment-hem--
+  His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped the queen,
+  And dragged her off.  But when the loving child
+  Beheld his mother led away, he seized
+  Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:
+  "If only for a moment, noble sir!
+  Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more
+  Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
+  And never touch again!  My child, behold
+  Thy mother, now a slave! And thou--a prince!
+  Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude
+  Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,
+  His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,
+  Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,
+  The Brâhman spurned him with his foot; but he
+  Still following close would not be torn from her,
+  Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,
+  Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy
+  My son with me; divide us not!  For I
+  Without him shall be nought of use to you.
+  Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:
+  "Here! take the money! give the boy to me!
+  The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained
+  The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied
+  The money in the king's bark dress, and led
+  Them both away--the mother and the child--
+  Together bound.  But when the king beheld
+  Himself bereft of both his wife and son,
+  He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,
+  Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
+  Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave
+  Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!--
+  A scion of the noble dynasty,
+  Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,
+  And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
+  Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
+  Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke
+  The king.  Meanwhile the Brâhman hastily
+  Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
+  And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king
+  The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  "Prince!" he said,
+  Pay me the offering!"  Harišchandra gave
+  The money gainèd by the shameful sale
+  Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld
+  The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
+  "How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
+  Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this
+  Suffices for a sacrificial gift
+  Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind
+  Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power--
+  Power transcendant, gained by penances,
+  And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power
+  Of my pure Brâhmanhood shall show itself
+  On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,
+  "But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!
+  Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied
+  The Brâhman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time
+  Than the remaining fourth part of to-day
+  I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,
+  Departing with the money.  And the king,
+  Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,
+  Cried out: "If there be any one of you
+  Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak
+  While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on
+  The form of a Cha.n.dâla, hastily
+  Came forward, taking pity on the king.
+  His countenance was fearful,--black, with tusks
+  Projecting; savage in his words; his smell
+  Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs
+  Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;
+  "Be quick; and whether it be large or small
+  I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"
+  The king, beholding such a loathsome form,
+  Of mien revolting--"What art thou?" he said.
+  "Men call me a Cha.n.dâla," he replied.
+  I dwell in this same city--in a part
+  Of evil fame.  As of a murderer
+  Condemned to death, such is my infamy.
+  My calling is a robber of the dead."
+  "I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,
+  "To thee, a base Cha.n.dâla.  Better far
+  That I should perish by the fiery curse."
+  The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint
+  Returned, his countenance with rage
+  Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:
+  "The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept
+  The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay
+  The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."
+  "O son of Kušika!" replied the king,
+  "Consider this, I pray!--my noble race!
+  Truly am I descended from the sun!
+  How can I then become, though sore in want,
+  Lowest of creatures--a Cha.n.dâla's slave?"
+  "Delay no more," the Brâhman said, "but pay
+  The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave
+  To the Cha.n.dâla--or assuredly
+  I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"
+  The king entreated; and, immersed in care,
+  He seized the Brâhman's feet, exclaiming thus:
+  "What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!
+  Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!
+  Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,
+  From this most horrible Cha.n.dâla.  Sir!
+  Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will
+  Be all the object of my life!  To serve
+  Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!
+  Thus will I make the offering--I will be
+  Thy __slave__!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art
+  My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave
+  To the Cha.n.dâla."  Then, filled with delight,
+  Paying the money, the Švapâka bound
+  His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,
+  Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;
+  In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dâla's house
+  Abiding--morning, noon, and eventide,
+  And night, the king thus made lament:
+  "Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,
+  Looking upon her son in misery,
+  Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king
+  Will surely ransom us, for he has gained
+  By now more money than the Brâhman paid
+  For us;' and all the time she little knows
+  My fate--worse than her own.  For I have passed
+  From woe to woe--kingdom and friends--my wife,
+  My son, have passed from me, and now the state
+  Of a Cha.n.dâla holds me."  While he dwelt
+  A slave in the Cha.n.dâla's house, the forms
+  Of those he loved were still before his eyes--
+  Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,
+  Obedient to his master's will, became
+  A robber of the dead; and night and day
+  He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil
+  Is for the king, three for thy master, two
+  For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,
+  Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."
+  Obeying the Cha.n.dâla, to the place
+  Of burial he went;--an awful place,
+  Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights--
+  Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair
+  Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,
+  Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.
+  Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'
+  Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn
+  With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,
+  Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.
+  The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,
+  Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,
+  They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time
+  The howl of demons and the wail of fiends
+  Were mingled with the roar of flames--a sound
+  Of fearful import, such as ushers in
+  The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells--
+  The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,
+  Blackened with filth--the smoke, the shouts,
+  The yells--struck fear on fear into the heart.
+  The burial-place resembled nought but hell.
+  Such was the place appointed for the king.
+  "Priests! Brâhmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen
+  From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!
+  Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!
+  We have been torn asunder by the power
+  Of Višvâmitra."  Thoughts like these possessed
+  His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,
+  He served his master.  Running here and there,
+  Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,
+  From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,
+  Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags
+  Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet
+  With dust and ashes from the funeral piles
+  Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh
+  From contact with the bodies of the dead.
+  So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.
+  And twelve months passed--twelve weary months, which seemed
+  To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;
+  And then at last, worn out, the best of kings
+  Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch
+  All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw
+  A wondrous vision.  By the power divine
+  He seemed to wear another form,--a form
+  Both new and strange,--and in that form to pay
+  The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed
+  With difficulty.  Then within himself
+  King Harišchandra thought: "So too will I,
+  When I am freed from hence, perform my vows
+  With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born
+  As a Pukkasa; while a place was found
+  For him among the dead, and funeral rites
+  Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years
+  Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought
+  A Brâhman seeking sepulture: in life
+  He had been poor, but honest; and the king,
+  Though he knew this--the dead man's poverty
+  And his uprightness--pressed his friends to pay
+  The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,
+  "And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:
+  Once upon earth there was a mighty king
+  Named Harišchandra; though he but disturbed
+  A Brâhman's sleep, through that offence he lost
+  His merit, and by Višvâmitra's curse
+  Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king
+  Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required
+  His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage--
+  "Go!--go!--thou most degraded of mankind--
+  Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream
+  The king beheld the messengers of death.
+  Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,
+  They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,
+  And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,
+  Headlong he fell into the bath of oil
+  In Nâraka.  There, torn with instruments
+  Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,
+  He saw himself.  For seven years in hell--
+  Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,
+  Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds
+  Frozen and numbed--a dead Pukkasa's fate
+  He underwent.  Each day in Nâraka,
+  A hundred years of mortal reckoning--
+  So count the demons who inhabit hell.
+  Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,
+  His spirit entering a filthy dog;
+  Feeding on things all foul and horrible--
+  Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.
+  His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw
+  Himself an ass; and after that an ox,
+  A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.
+  So day by day he saw his spirit change
+  Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms--
+  Some moving, others rooted to the ground--
+  Received his soul.  And when the hundred years
+  Were passed and gone, he saw himself again
+  Re-occupy his pristine human form--
+  Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose
+  His kingdom, casting it away in games
+  Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer
+  Into the forest with his wife and child:
+  Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised
+  To life again on earth, he sore bewailed
+  His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?
+  Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"
+  Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife
+  And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do
+  With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"
+  The vision faded, and he saw no more
+  The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned
+  By power divine.  And Harišchandra stood
+  In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,
+  With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along--
+  Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,
+  "Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,
+  The demons hurried him before the judge;
+  And Harišchandra seemed to hear the words:
+  "Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief
+  Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long
+  Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain
+  Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky
+  By Yama's messengers, falling through space--
+  Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain
+  Yet more exceeding--thought within himself,
+  "How shall I suffer all these torments sore!--
+  The changes manifold of form--the pain
+  In Nâraka."  Then Harišchandra sought
+  Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,
+  "Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!
+  O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,
+  O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,
+  Both far and near, before you now I come,
+  A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,
+  I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee
+  O ancient one! I pray--immutable!"
+  The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.
+  His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,
+  Recalled to him his state--the plunderer
+  Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,
+  He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,
+  For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,
+  And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,
+  Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed
+  His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen
+  Came, bearing the dead body of her son--
+  Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!
+  My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw
+  Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!
+  O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said--
+  "Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,
+  Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!
+  So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,
+  Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste
+  To rob the dead: nor did he recognize
+  His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief
+  As if into another.  And the queen
+  Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed
+  In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.
+  Then recollection dawned upon the king,
+  Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought
+  Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!
+  What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!
+  A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,
+  Long lost to me through my accursed fate,
+  Would have been even such as thou in age."
+  Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:
+  "Alas! has some unexpiated crime
+  Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.
+  My absent lord! since thou did'st not console
+  My grief in times gone by, how can the pain
+  I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose
+  Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?
+  Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king
+  Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail
+  Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again
+  His wife and son--and saying but the words,
+  "Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"
+  He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,
+  Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,
+  Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness
+  Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight
+  And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"
+  Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,
+  When I behold thy form so delicate:
+  My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,
+  Words of affection I will speak, that rise
+  Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs
+  Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust
+  That clings about my garments will pollute
+  Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st
+  An evil father!  He who should have kept
+  All dangers from thee, he it was who sold
+  Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind
+  First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!
+  Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this
+  By lawful right was thine inheritance,
+  And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears
+  Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,
+  In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,
+  Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering
+  With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:
+  "This is indeed my lord--I know his voice!
+  I know his form! this is the mighty king.
+  The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!
+  What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place
+  For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more
+  Is added to the mourning for my son--
+  My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves
+  A base Cha.n.dâla.  Curséd be that god,
+  Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king
+  Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot
+  Of a Švapâka.  Ah! most noble prince,
+  My mind is filled with grief, when I recall
+  Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.
+  No kingly ensigns go before thee now,
+  No captive kings, brought down to slavery,
+  Humbly precede thee, casting in the way
+  Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.
+  But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,
+  Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed
+  With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair
+  Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes
+  Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life
+  Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,
+  And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:
+  While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed
+  Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!
+  Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,
+  Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled
+  And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,
+  Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods
+  Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence
+  If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,
+  Art brought to such a depth of infamy."
+  Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife
+  How he had fallen to this wretched state,--
+  The state of a Cha.n.dâla.  She, in turn,
+  Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,
+  Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed
+  Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not
+  These evils," said the king, "by mine own will--
+  Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate
+  Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,
+  And if I fly from the Cha.n.dâla's bonds,
+  The fiery torment in the depths of hell
+  Will overtake me, and I shall become
+  A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell
+  Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,
+  Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.
+  Yet from this miserable life on earth
+  There is one only refuge.  He! my son!
+  My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea
+  Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!
+  I am dependent on another's will!
+  Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!
+  For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe
+  Cares not for evil chances; not the state
+  Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood
+  Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,
+  Could add the smallest fraction to the pain
+  I have already borne.  My son is dead!
+  Who then will make atonement for my sins?
+  Yet listen to my words, beloved one,
+  If I have offered sacrifice, and paid
+  Due reverence to the saints; if I have given
+  Alms to the needy--may we meet again
+  Hereafter, in the world to come, and find
+  The refuge for our woes denied us here.
+  Let us together follow in the path
+  By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate
+  Can never alter here.  Whatever words
+  I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,
+  These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive
+  Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise
+  Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state
+  Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:
+  "I am prepared to tread that path with thee,
+  O king, most saintly! and with thee that world
+  To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king
+  Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon
+  His son, himself ascending with his wife.
+  And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought
+  Upon Nârâyana, the lord supreme,
+  And Vâsudeva, lord of deities,
+  Šiva, and Brâhma the eternal god,
+  And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king
+  Was meditating, all the gods from heaven
+  Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:
+  "Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods--
+  Even the mighty gods have come to earth,
+  And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,
+  And heroes--yea, and Višvâmitra too,
+  The sage implacable,--all summon thee--
+  Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,
+  That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!
+  I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee
+  To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained
+  By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,
+  Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:--
+  "O Harišchandra! King, most eminent!
+  In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands--
+  For I am he.  The everlasting world
+  Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,
+  And son, ascend to heaven;--to that third heav'n--
+  So difficult to be attained by men--
+  The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained
+  Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers
+  That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds
+  Of music filled the air, and round him stood
+  The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son
+  Of Harišchandra rose, restored to life,
+  And health, his mind and senses whole, his form
+  More beautiful than ever: and the king
+  Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy
+  Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.
+  Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,
+  Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself
+  Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."
+  Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!
+  Unbidden by my master, will I not
+  To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:
+  "I am thy master.  I assumed the form
+  Of a Cha.n.dâla.  All thy pain and woe
+  Was brought upon thee by my magic power,
+  And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld
+  Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!
+  The highest place that heaven accords to men,
+  Whose virtue has been tried and proved:--to that
+  Ascend!"  But Harišchandra answering, said:
+  "Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise
+  And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee
+  Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand
+  With grieving hearts, longing for my return.
+  Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth
+  Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,
+  Brâhmans, or teachers of the holy law,--
+  If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,--
+  Then may my labours and my toils atone,
+  For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.
+  For neither here, nor in the world to come,
+  Can there be peace to one who casts aside
+  The friend whose love is pure and true--the friend
+  Who serves him from the heart.  Return!
+  Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant
+  My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I
+  Ascend; if not, with them will I descend
+  To Nâraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!
+  Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,
+  Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained
+  A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.
+  Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave
+  My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king
+  His kingdom rules; by them he offers up
+  The kingly sacrifice, and for himself
+  Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.
+  So have my kinsmen too enabled me
+  To work whate'er I may of righteousness.
+  My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,
+  Truly I owe to them, for by their aid
+  Have these been possible.  May the reward
+  Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.
+  My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,
+  I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;
+  "So be it!" said the Brâhman; Dharma, too,
+  Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,
+  Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:
+  "Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."
+  The saintly Brâhman, having heard with joy
+  The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil
+  Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
+  The sages, and the gods, anointed him
+  "Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng--
+  The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
+  Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
+  To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
+  Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy--
+  The mighty father, who eternal bliss
+  Both for his people and himself had gained,
+  Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
+  Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
+  Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
+  And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
+  Great Harišchandra's equal has not been
+  Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,
+  His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
+  For him lament, transcendant happiness
+  Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
+  Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,
+  Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
+  E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates
+  The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
+  Like him shall enter everlasting rest.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII
+
+Author: Anonymous
+
+Translator: R. Hale Wortham
+
+Posting Date: March 19, 2014 [EBook #7169]
+Release Date: December, 2004
+First Posted: March 20, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MÂRKANDEYA PURÂNA, BOOKS VII. VIII ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Chetan Jain, John B. Hare, and Christopher M.
+Weimer. HTML version by Al Haines.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>
+<br /><br /><br />
+  Mârkandeya Purâna<br />
+</h1>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="t3b">
+  Books VII and VIII.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+  JOURNAL<br />
+  OF<br />
+  THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+  [New Series, Volume XIII]<br />
+  [London, Trübner and Company]<br />
+  [1881]<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+  {Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002}<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="t3">
+  ART. XIII.&mdash;<i>Translation of the Mârka.n.deya Purâ.na.</i><br />
+  Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3>
+  BOOK VII.<br />
+</h3>
+
+<p><br /></p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king<br />
+  Named Harišchandra; pure in heart and mind,<br />
+  In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,<br />
+  Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned<br />
+  No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death<br />
+  Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens<br />
+  Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,<br />
+  And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled<br />
+  Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth<br />
+  And loveliness the women passed their days.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  It so fell out, that while this mighty king<br />
+  Was hunting in the forest, that he heard<br />
+  The sound of female voices raised in cry<br />
+  Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,<br />
+  Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!<br />
+  Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,<br />
+  That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,<br />
+  The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"<br />
+  Then, too, the fierce Ganeša,&mdash;he who blinds<br />
+  The eyes, and foils the wills of men,&mdash;he heard<br />
+  The cry, and thus within himself he thought:<br />
+  "This surely is the great ascetic's work,<br />
+  The mighty Višvâmitra; he whose acts<br />
+  Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.<br />
+  Upon the sciences he shows his power,<br />
+  While they, in patience, discipline of mind,<br />
+  And silence perfected, cry out with fear,<br />
+  'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kaušika<br />
+  Is powerful; and we, compared with him,<br />
+  Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?<br />
+  My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought<br />
+  Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries<br />
+  Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,<br />
+  And entering his heart, I will fulfil<br />
+  All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son&mdash;<br />
+  Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj&mdash;the king<br />
+  Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,<br />
+  Binding the fire on his garment's hem,<br />
+  While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,<br />
+  Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?<br />
+  Surely the never-ending sleep of death<br />
+  Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,<br />
+  Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,<br />
+  Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."<br />
+  Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled<br />
+  With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences<br />
+  Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  But when the king beheld the pious sage<br />
+  All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,<br />
+  And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.<br />
+  Then Višvâmitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"<br />
+  And Harišchandra, humbly falling down<br />
+  Before the saint, in accents low and meek:<br />
+  "O Lord! most holy! most adorable!<br />
+  Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!<br />
+  My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."<br />
+  "Is it not written in the Holy Law,<br />
+  'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;<br />
+  His people must be fought for, and be kept<br />
+  From every ill'?"  Then Višvâmitra spoke<br />
+  And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?<br />
+  For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom<br />
+  Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,<br />
+  But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."<br />
+  "Alms should be given to Brâhmans," said the king:<br />
+  "Those who are weak should be protected: foes<br />
+  In battle should be met and overcome."<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  Then Višvâmitra spoke and said: "O king!<br />
+  If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive<br />
+  Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;<br />
+  I am a holy Brâhman, and I seek<br />
+  A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain<br />
+  A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."<br />
+  The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,<br />
+  Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:<br />
+  "Fear not! but tell me, son of Kaušika,<br />
+  Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,<br />
+  Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.<br />
+  Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?<br />
+  Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?<br />
+  Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"<br />
+  The sage replied, "thy present I accept;<br />
+  But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,&mdash;<br />
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice."<br />
+  "O Brâhman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;<br />
+  Further than this, whatever be the gift<br />
+  Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.<br />
+  Ask what thou wilt."  Then Višvâmitra spake:<br />
+  "Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,<br />
+  With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;<br />
+  Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;<br />
+  Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside<br />
+  Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,<br />
+  I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,<br />
+  And this thy righteousness, that follows close<br />
+  Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art<br />
+  Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all&mdash;<br />
+  All beside these.  What need of further words."<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged<br />
+  In countenance, hearing the sage's words,<br />
+  Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,<br />
+  "So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"<br />
+  Said Višvâmitra, "if the world is mine,<br />
+  And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,<br />
+  Since in this kingdom as a devotee<br />
+  I dwell?"  Then Harišchandra said: "'Ere this,<br />
+  Before the world was thine by my free gift,<br />
+  Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?<br />
+  Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:<br />
+  "If this indeed be so,&mdash;if the whole world<br />
+  Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,<br />
+  Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself<br />
+  Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,<br />
+  But, casting off thy royal ornaments,<br />
+  Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."<br />
+  The king, obedient to the sage's word,<br />
+  Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife<br />
+  And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:<br />
+  "Stop, Harišchandra!  Hast thou then forgot<br />
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice<br />
+  That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:<br />
+  "O mighty saint! the kingdom now is <i>thine</i>;<br />
+  All have I given to <i>thee</i>: and as for me,<br />
+  What have I left?&mdash;nought! save myself,<br />
+  My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"<br />
+  Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains<br />
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice.<br />
+  And this know well:  A vow to Brâhmans made,<br />
+  If unfulfilled, works special woe to him<br />
+  Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice<br />
+  Must offerings of worth be freely made<br />
+  To Brâhmans;&mdash;offerings until they cry<br />
+  Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay<br />
+  Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.<br />
+  'Alms are for Brâhmans,' thou thyself hast said,<br />
+  'Those who are weak must be protected: foes<br />
+  In battle must be met and overcome.'"<br />
+  "O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth<br />
+  Is all departed: nothing now remains<br />
+  For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,<br />
+  And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"<br />
+  Said Višvâmitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say<br />
+  What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?<br />
+  Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire<br />
+  Shall burn thee up."  Then Harišchandra said:<br />
+  "Most holy Brâhman! when a month has past<br />
+  The money for the offering shall be thine.<br />
+  Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant<br />
+  Remission for the present."  Said the sage,<br />
+  "Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!<br />
+  And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies<br />
+  Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king<br />
+  Departed as an outcast;&mdash;he, the king<br />
+  Of all the earth, an exile with his wife<br />
+  Unused to go afoot, and with his son<br />
+  Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose<br />
+  On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,<br />
+  Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!<br />
+  Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness<br />
+  Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full<br />
+  Of mercy, may it overflow on us.<br />
+  Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze<br />
+  With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.<br />
+  Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?<br />
+  How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once<br />
+  Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,<br />
+  Who marched on foot; while stately elephants<br />
+  Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!<br />
+  Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!<br />
+  Think, Harišchandra! how wilt thou endure<br />
+  The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,<br />
+  Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us<br />
+  Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.<br />
+  Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,<br />
+  Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all<br />
+  Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,<br />
+  We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!<br />
+  For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,<br />
+  And heaven itself would be no heaven to us<br />
+  Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief<br />
+  At these laments, the king stayed on his course,<br />
+  In pity for his loving citizens.<br />
+  Then Višvâmitra, filled with rage, his eyes<br />
+  Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!<br />
+  O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.<br />
+  How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!<br />
+  Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,<br />
+  And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!<br />
+  I go!" replied the king to these rude words,<br />
+  And trembling crept away in haste, his wife<br />
+  Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,<br />
+  Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,<br />
+  The Brâhman smote her fiercely with his stick.<br />
+  Then Harišchandra, pained with inmost grief,<br />
+  Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"<br />
+  Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,<br />
+  The Višvadevas said: "What sin is this?<br />
+  What torments shall indeed suffice for him<br />
+  By whom this pious king&mdash;the offerer<br />
+  Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.<br />
+  Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice<br />
+  With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,<br />
+  That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  Then, having heard these words, the Brâhman turned<br />
+  Upon the Višvedevâs; and, in wrath<br />
+  Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:<br />
+  "You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,<br />
+  And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed<br />
+  His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,<br />
+  The sage yet further added: "you shall live<br />
+  Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born<br />
+  To you no son, nor shall you know the state<br />
+  Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er<br />
+  Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time<br />
+  Has past, you shall re-enter once again<br />
+  The courts of heaven, and wear again the form<br />
+  Which you had lost."  The Višvedevâs then<br />
+  Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,<br />
+  Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife<br />
+  Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pâ.n.davas&mdash;<br />
+  Mighty in war&mdash;by Višvâmitra cursed,<br />
+  Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard<br />
+  The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,<br />
+  Of fourfold import has been answered.<br />
+  I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+<h3>
+  BOOK VIII.<br />
+</h3>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  Said Jaimîni: An answer ye have found<br />
+  To all my questions; and indeed have filled<br />
+  Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long<br />
+  To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!<br />
+  What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain<br />
+  To any comfort answering to his woe?<br />
+  Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem">
+  The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,<br />
+  O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words<br />
+  Of Višvâmitra, with his wife and son<br />
+  Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.<br />
+  At length the holy place appeared in view&mdash;<br />
+  The shrine of Å iva; thus within himself,<br />
+  He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,<br />
+  Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,<br />
+  For there man has no power."  The king approached<br />
+  The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood<br />
+  The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  Mighty Saint!<br />
+  The king, his hands in supplication joined,<br />
+  With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,<br />
+  My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;<br />
+  Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose<br />
+  Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage<br />
+  Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!<br />
+  Give me the present for the sacrifice&mdash;<br />
+  The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day<br />
+  As yet remains before the month be past,<br />
+  Oh Brâhman of surpassing piety,<br />
+  And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,<br />
+  A few short hours."  Then Višvâmitra said:<br />
+  "So be it, king! once more I will return,<br />
+  But if the offering be not duly paid,<br />
+  Before the sinking of this evening's sun,<br />
+  My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest<br />
+  Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,<br />
+  Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?<br />
+  The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?<br />
+  I may not beg for alms; how can I then<br />
+  Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world<br />
+  Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,<br />
+  If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass<br />
+  From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;<br />
+  I shall become the lowest of the low.<br />
+  Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,<br />
+  Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears<br />
+  Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,<br />
+  With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,<br />
+  "Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!<br />
+  The man devoid of truth is to be shunned<br />
+  Like contact with the dead.  The highest law<br />
+  Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness<br />
+  Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,<br />
+  The study of the scriptures, penances,<br />
+  Are counted not for righteousness to him<br />
+  Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!<br />
+  Is it not written in the sacred law:<br />
+  'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,<br />
+  While lies and falsehood are destruction's way<br />
+  To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,<br />
+  'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom<br />
+  The kingly sacrifice&mdash;burnt offerings too,<br />
+  Were offered in abundance.  That same king<br />
+  Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,<br />
+  He lost his righteousness, and forfeited<br />
+  His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"&mdash;<br />
+  Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought<br />
+  But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,<br />
+  With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!<br />
+  He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!<br />
+  Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,<br />
+  "Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born<br />
+  To none but worthy women.  This my son<br />
+  Shall take me&mdash;he shall offer me for sale&mdash;<br />
+  Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest<br />
+  The promised offering."  Hearing these words,<br />
+  He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,<br />
+  Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,<br />
+  Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!<br />
+  Is hardly to be framed in words, much less<br />
+  Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"&mdash;<br />
+  His spirit fled again, and to the earth<br />
+  He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,<br />
+  The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!<br />
+  How art thou fallen from thy high estate!<br />
+  The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once<br />
+  A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,<br />
+  By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given<br />
+  An offering to the Brâhman&mdash;see, he lies<br />
+  Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!<br />
+  Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,<br />
+  Equal to gods in rank, committed sin<br />
+  Against you, that he lies thus overcome<br />
+  With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense<br />
+  Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,<br />
+  Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy<br />
+  Beheld his parents lying on the ground,<br />
+  He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!<br />
+  Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile<br />
+  Upon the scene the mighty Brâhman came;<br />
+  And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"&mdash;<br />
+  Sprinkling cold water on his face&mdash;he said,<br />
+  "Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;<br />
+  For this thy misery from day to day<br />
+  Increases, and will yet increase, until<br />
+  The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch<br />
+  Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;<br />
+  But when he saw the Brâhman, faintness seized<br />
+  His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage<br />
+  Seized Višvâmitra; but before he left,<br />
+  The best of Brâhmans said: "If what is just,<br />
+  Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!<br />
+  Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine<br />
+  The sun sends forth his vivifying rays<br />
+  Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world<br />
+  Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.<br />
+  By truth the very heaven itself exists.<br />
+  Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale<br />
+  Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,<br />
+  And sacrifices countless, still the truth<br />
+  Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste<br />
+  My words of loving-kindness upon thee&mdash;<br />
+  An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.<br />
+  Thou art a king,&mdash;so should the truth prevail<br />
+  With thee.  Yet hear me;&mdash;if the offering<br />
+  Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk<br />
+  Behind the western mountain to his rest,<br />
+  My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these<br />
+  The Brâhman left him; and the king, o'ercome<br />
+  With fear&mdash;a fugitive&mdash;robbed of his wealth&mdash;<br />
+  Degraded to unfathomable depths&mdash;<br />
+  The victim of his evil creditor&mdash;<br />
+  Heard once again the counsel of his wife:<br />
+  "O king! sell <i>me</i>! nor let the fiery curse<br />
+  Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,<br />
+  The king at length replied: "Most loving one!<br />
+  What the most wicked man could hardly do,<br />
+  That same will I:&mdash;and I will sell my wife.<br />
+  Alas! that I should utter such a word!"<br />
+  And going with his wife into the town&mdash;<br />
+  Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief&mdash;he cried:<br />
+  "Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!<br />
+  A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!<br />
+  I offer here my wife for sale, and yet<br />
+  I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?<br />
+  Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"<br />
+  (So spake an ancient Brâhman to the king.)<br />
+  "Money I have in heaps, and I will pay<br />
+  You well for her.  My wife is delicate;<br />
+  Her household duties are beyond her strength;<br />
+  I want a slave, and therefore I will give<br />
+  A price proportioned to the woman's skill<br />
+  And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth<br />
+  And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,<br />
+  That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king<br />
+  Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,<br />
+  Tying the price in the king's garment-hem&mdash;<br />
+  His bark-cloth garment&mdash;roughly grasped the queen,<br />
+  And dragged her off.  But when the loving child<br />
+  Beheld his mother led away, he seized<br />
+  Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:<br />
+  "If only for a moment, noble sir!<br />
+  Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more<br />
+  Upon my child, whom I shall never see,<br />
+  And never touch again!  My child, behold<br />
+  Thy mother, now a slave! And thou&mdash;a prince!<br />
+  Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude<br />
+  Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,<br />
+  His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,<br />
+  Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,<br />
+  The Brâhman spurned him with his foot; but he<br />
+  Still following close would not be torn from her,<br />
+  Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,<br />
+  Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy<br />
+  My son with me; divide us not!  For I<br />
+  Without him shall be nought of use to you.<br />
+  Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:<br />
+  "Here! take the money! give the boy to me!<br />
+  The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained<br />
+  The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied<br />
+  The money in the king's bark dress, and led<br />
+  Them both away&mdash;the mother and the child&mdash;<br />
+  Together bound.  But when the king beheld<br />
+  Himself bereft of both his wife and son,<br />
+  He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,<br />
+  Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast<br />
+  Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave<br />
+  Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!&mdash;<br />
+  A scion of the noble dynasty,<br />
+  Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,<br />
+  And&mdash;shame upon me!&mdash;thou too art a slave!<br />
+  Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,<br />
+  Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke<br />
+  The king.  Meanwhile the Brâhman hastily<br />
+  Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,<br />
+  And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king<br />
+  The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  "Prince!" he said,<br />
+  Pay me the offering!"  Harišchandra gave<br />
+  The money gainèd by the shameful sale<br />
+  Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld<br />
+  The money, overcome with wrath, he said:<br />
+  "How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!<br />
+  Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this<br />
+  Suffices for a sacrificial gift<br />
+  Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind<br />
+  Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power&mdash;<br />
+  Power transcendant, gained by penances,<br />
+  And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power<br />
+  Of my pure Brâhmanhood shall show itself<br />
+  On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,<br />
+  "But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!<br />
+  Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied<br />
+  The Brâhman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time<br />
+  Than the remaining fourth part of to-day<br />
+  I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,<br />
+  Departing with the money.  And the king,<br />
+  Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,<br />
+  Cried out: "If there be any one of you<br />
+  Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak<br />
+  While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on<br />
+  The form of a Cha.n.dâla, hastily<br />
+  Came forward, taking pity on the king.<br />
+  His countenance was fearful,&mdash;black, with tusks<br />
+  Projecting; savage in his words; his smell<br />
+  Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs<br />
+  Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;<br />
+  "Be quick; and whether it be large or small<br />
+  I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"<br />
+  The king, beholding such a loathsome form,<br />
+  Of mien revolting&mdash;"What art thou?" he said.<br />
+  "Men call me a Cha.n.dâla," he replied.<br />
+  I dwell in this same city&mdash;in a part<br />
+  Of evil fame.  As of a murderer<br />
+  Condemned to death, such is my infamy.<br />
+  My calling is a robber of the dead."<br />
+  "I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,<br />
+  "To thee, a base Cha.n.dâla.  Better far<br />
+  That I should perish by the fiery curse."<br />
+  The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint<br />
+  Returned, his countenance with rage<br />
+  Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:<br />
+  "The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept<br />
+  The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay<br />
+  The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."<br />
+  "O son of Kušika!" replied the king,<br />
+  "Consider this, I pray!&mdash;my noble race!<br />
+  Truly am I descended from the sun!<br />
+  How can I then become, though sore in want,<br />
+  Lowest of creatures&mdash;a Cha.n.dâla's slave?"<br />
+  "Delay no more," the Brâhman said, "but pay<br />
+  The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave<br />
+  To the Cha.n.dâla&mdash;or assuredly<br />
+  I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"<br />
+  The king entreated; and, immersed in care,<br />
+  He seized the Brâhman's feet, exclaiming thus:<br />
+  "What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!<br />
+  Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!<br />
+  Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,<br />
+  From this most horrible Cha.n.dâla.  Sir!<br />
+  Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will<br />
+  Be all the object of my life!  To serve<br />
+  Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!<br />
+  Thus will I make the offering&mdash;I will be<br />
+  Thy <i>slave</i>!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art<br />
+  My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave<br />
+  To the Cha.n.dâla."  Then, filled with delight,<br />
+  Paying the money, the Švapâka bound<br />
+  His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,<br />
+  Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;<br />
+  In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dâla's house<br />
+  Abiding&mdash;morning, noon, and eventide,<br />
+  And night, the king thus made lament:<br />
+  "Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,<br />
+  Looking upon her son in misery,<br />
+  Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king<br />
+  Will surely ransom us, for he has gained<br />
+  By now more money than the Brâhman paid<br />
+  For us;' and all the time she little knows<br />
+  My fate&mdash;worse than her own.  For I have passed<br />
+  From woe to woe&mdash;kingdom and friends&mdash;my wife,<br />
+  My son, have passed from me, and now the state<br />
+  Of a Cha.n.dâla holds me."  While he dwelt<br />
+  A slave in the Cha.n.dâla's house, the forms<br />
+  Of those he loved were still before his eyes&mdash;<br />
+  Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,<br />
+  Obedient to his master's will, became<br />
+  A robber of the dead; and night and day<br />
+  He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil<br />
+  Is for the king, three for thy master, two<br />
+  For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,<br />
+  Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."<br />
+  Obeying the Cha.n.dâla, to the place<br />
+  Of burial he went;&mdash;an awful place,<br />
+  Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights&mdash;<br />
+  Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair<br />
+  Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,<br />
+  Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.<br />
+  Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'<br />
+  Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn<br />
+  With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,<br />
+  Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.<br />
+  The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,<br />
+  Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,<br />
+  They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time<br />
+  The howl of demons and the wail of fiends<br />
+  Were mingled with the roar of flames&mdash;a sound<br />
+  Of fearful import, such as ushers in<br />
+  The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells&mdash;<br />
+  The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,<br />
+  Blackened with filth&mdash;the smoke, the shouts,<br />
+  The yells&mdash;struck fear on fear into the heart.<br />
+  The burial-place resembled nought but hell.<br />
+  Such was the place appointed for the king.<br />
+  "Priests! Brâhmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen<br />
+  From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!<br />
+  Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!<br />
+  We have been torn asunder by the power<br />
+  Of Višvâmitra."  Thoughts like these possessed<br />
+  His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,<br />
+  He served his master.  Running here and there,<br />
+  Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,<br />
+  From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,<br />
+  Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags<br />
+  Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet<br />
+  With dust and ashes from the funeral piles<br />
+  Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh<br />
+  From contact with the bodies of the dead.<br />
+  So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.<br />
+  And twelve months passed&mdash;twelve weary months, which seemed<br />
+  To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;<br />
+  And then at last, worn out, the best of kings<br />
+  Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch<br />
+  All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw<br />
+  A wondrous vision.  By the power divine<br />
+  He seemed to wear another form,&mdash;a form<br />
+  Both new and strange,&mdash;and in that form to pay<br />
+  The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed<br />
+  With difficulty.  Then within himself<br />
+  King Harišchandra thought: "So too will I,<br />
+  When I am freed from hence, perform my vows<br />
+  With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born<br />
+  As a Pukkasa; while a place was found<br />
+  For him among the dead, and funeral rites<br />
+  Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years<br />
+  Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought<br />
+  A Brâhman seeking sepulture: in life<br />
+  He had been poor, but honest; and the king,<br />
+  Though he knew this&mdash;the dead man's poverty<br />
+  And his uprightness&mdash;pressed his friends to pay<br />
+  The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,<br />
+  "And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:<br />
+  Once upon earth there was a mighty king<br />
+  Named Harišchandra; though he but disturbed<br />
+  A Brâhman's sleep, through that offence he lost<br />
+  His merit, and by Višvâmitra's curse<br />
+  Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king<br />
+  Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required<br />
+  His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage&mdash;<br />
+  "Go!&mdash;go!&mdash;thou most degraded of mankind&mdash;<br />
+  Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream<br />
+  The king beheld the messengers of death.<br />
+  Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,<br />
+  They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,<br />
+  And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,<br />
+  Headlong he fell into the bath of oil<br />
+  In Nâraka.  There, torn with instruments<br />
+  Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,<br />
+  He saw himself.  For seven years in hell&mdash;<br />
+  Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,<br />
+  Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds<br />
+  Frozen and numbed&mdash;a dead Pukkasa's fate<br />
+  He underwent.  Each day in Nâraka,<br />
+  A hundred years of mortal reckoning&mdash;<br />
+  So count the demons who inhabit hell.<br />
+  Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,<br />
+  His spirit entering a filthy dog;<br />
+  Feeding on things all foul and horrible&mdash;<br />
+  Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.<br />
+  His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw<br />
+  Himself an ass; and after that an ox,<br />
+  A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.<br />
+  So day by day he saw his spirit change<br />
+  Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms&mdash;<br />
+  Some moving, others rooted to the ground&mdash;<br />
+  Received his soul.  And when the hundred years<br />
+  Were passed and gone, he saw himself again<br />
+  Re-occupy his pristine human form&mdash;<br />
+  Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose<br />
+  His kingdom, casting it away in games<br />
+  Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer<br />
+  Into the forest with his wife and child:<br />
+  Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised<br />
+  To life again on earth, he sore bewailed<br />
+  His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?<br />
+  Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"<br />
+  Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife<br />
+  And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do<br />
+  With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"<br />
+  The vision faded, and he saw no more<br />
+  The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned<br />
+  By power divine.  And Harišchandra stood<br />
+  In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,<br />
+  With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along&mdash;<br />
+  Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,<br />
+  "Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,<br />
+  The demons hurried him before the judge;<br />
+  And Harišchandra seemed to hear the words:<br />
+  "Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief<br />
+  Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long<br />
+  Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain<br />
+  Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky<br />
+  By Yama's messengers, falling through space&mdash;<br />
+  Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain<br />
+  Yet more exceeding&mdash;thought within himself,<br />
+  "How shall I suffer all these torments sore!&mdash;<br />
+  The changes manifold of form&mdash;the pain<br />
+  In Nâraka."  Then Harišchandra sought<br />
+  Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,<br />
+  "Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!<br />
+  O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,<br />
+  O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,<br />
+  Both far and near, before you now I come,<br />
+  A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,<br />
+  I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee<br />
+  O ancient one! I pray&mdash;immutable!"<br />
+  The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.<br />
+  His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,<br />
+  Recalled to him his state&mdash;the plunderer<br />
+  Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,<br />
+  He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,<br />
+  For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,<br />
+  And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,<br />
+  Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed<br />
+  His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen<br />
+  Came, bearing the dead body of her son&mdash;<br />
+  Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!<br />
+  My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw<br />
+  Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!<br />
+  O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said&mdash;<br />
+  "Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,<br />
+  Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!<br />
+  So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,<br />
+  Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste<br />
+  To rob the dead: nor did he recognize<br />
+  His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief<br />
+  As if into another.  And the queen<br />
+  Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed<br />
+  In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.<br />
+  Then recollection dawned upon the king,<br />
+  Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought<br />
+  Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!<br />
+  What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!<br />
+  A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,<br />
+  Long lost to me through my accursed fate,<br />
+  Would have been even such as thou in age."<br />
+  Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:<br />
+  "Alas! has some unexpiated crime<br />
+  Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.<br />
+  My absent lord! since thou did'st not console<br />
+  My grief in times gone by, how can the pain<br />
+  I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose<br />
+  Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?<br />
+  Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king<br />
+  Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail<br />
+  Fell from his eyes,&mdash;he recognized again<br />
+  His wife and son&mdash;and saying but the words,<br />
+  "Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"<br />
+  He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,<br />
+  Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,<br />
+  Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness<br />
+  Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight<br />
+  And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"<br />
+  Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,<br />
+  When I behold thy form so delicate:<br />
+  My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,<br />
+  Words of affection I will speak, that rise<br />
+  Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs<br />
+  Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust<br />
+  That clings about my garments will pollute<br />
+  Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st<br />
+  An evil father!  He who should have kept<br />
+  All dangers from thee, he it was who sold<br />
+  Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind<br />
+  First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!<br />
+  Thy father's realm&mdash;my heaped-up wealth&mdash;all this<br />
+  By lawful right was thine inheritance,<br />
+  And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears<br />
+  Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,<br />
+  In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,<br />
+  Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering<br />
+  With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:<br />
+  "This is indeed my lord&mdash;I know his voice!<br />
+  I know his form! this is the mighty king.<br />
+  The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!<br />
+  What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place<br />
+  For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more<br />
+  Is added to the mourning for my son&mdash;<br />
+  My husband's fate&mdash;for as a slave he serves<br />
+  A base Cha.n.dâla.  Curséd be that god,<br />
+  Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king<br />
+  Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot<br />
+  Of a Švapâka.  Ah! most noble prince,<br />
+  My mind is filled with grief, when I recall<br />
+  Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.<br />
+  No kingly ensigns go before thee now,<br />
+  No captive kings, brought down to slavery,<br />
+  Humbly precede thee, casting in the way<br />
+  Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.<br />
+  But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,<br />
+  Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed<br />
+  With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair<br />
+  Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes<br />
+  Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life<br />
+  Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,<br />
+  And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:<br />
+  While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed<br />
+  Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!<br />
+  Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,<br />
+  Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled<br />
+  And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,<br />
+  Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods<br />
+  Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence<br />
+  If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,<br />
+  Art brought to such a depth of infamy."<br />
+  Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife<br />
+  How he had fallen to this wretched state,&mdash;<br />
+  The state of a Cha.n.dâla.  She, in turn,<br />
+  Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,<br />
+  Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed<br />
+  Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not<br />
+  These evils," said the king, "by mine own will&mdash;<br />
+  Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate<br />
+  Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,<br />
+  And if I fly from the Cha.n.dâla's bonds,<br />
+  The fiery torment in the depths of hell<br />
+  Will overtake me, and I shall become<br />
+  A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell<br />
+  Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,<br />
+  Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.<br />
+  Yet from this miserable life on earth<br />
+  There is one only refuge.  He! my son!<br />
+  My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea<br />
+  Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!<br />
+  I am dependent on another's will!<br />
+  Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!<br />
+  For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe<br />
+  Cares not for evil chances; not the state<br />
+  Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood<br />
+  Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,<br />
+  Could add the smallest fraction to the pain<br />
+  I have already borne.  My son is dead!<br />
+  Who then will make atonement for my sins?<br />
+  Yet listen to my words, beloved one,<br />
+  If I have offered sacrifice, and paid<br />
+  Due reverence to the saints; if I have given<br />
+  Alms to the needy&mdash;may we meet again<br />
+  Hereafter, in the world to come, and find<br />
+  The refuge for our woes denied us here.<br />
+  Let us together follow in the path<br />
+  By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate<br />
+  Can never alter here.  Whatever words<br />
+  I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,<br />
+  These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive<br />
+  Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise<br />
+  Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state<br />
+  Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:<br />
+  "I am prepared to tread that path with thee,<br />
+  O king, most saintly! and with thee that world<br />
+  To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king<br />
+  Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon<br />
+  His son, himself ascending with his wife.<br />
+  And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought<br />
+  Upon Nârâyana, the lord supreme,<br />
+  And Vâsudeva, lord of deities,<br />
+  Šiva, and Brâhma the eternal god,<br />
+  And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king<br />
+  Was meditating, all the gods from heaven<br />
+  Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:<br />
+  "Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods&mdash;<br />
+  Even the mighty gods have come to earth,<br />
+  And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,<br />
+  And heroes&mdash;yea, and Višvâmitra too,<br />
+  The sage implacable,&mdash;all summon thee&mdash;<br />
+  Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,<br />
+  That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!<br />
+  I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee<br />
+  To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained<br />
+  By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,<br />
+  Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:&mdash;<br />
+  "O Harišchandra! King, most eminent!<br />
+  In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands&mdash;<br />
+  For I am he.  The everlasting world<br />
+  Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,<br />
+  And son, ascend to heaven;&mdash;to that third heav'n&mdash;<br />
+  So difficult to be attained by men&mdash;<br />
+  The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained<br />
+  Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers<br />
+  That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds<br />
+  Of music filled the air, and round him stood<br />
+  The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son<br />
+  Of Harišchandra rose, restored to life,<br />
+  And health, his mind and senses whole, his form<br />
+  More beautiful than ever: and the king<br />
+  Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy<br />
+  Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.<br />
+  Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,<br />
+  Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself<br />
+  Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."<br />
+  Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!<br />
+  Unbidden by my master, will I not<br />
+  To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:<br />
+  "I am thy master.  I assumed the form<br />
+  Of a Cha.n.dâla.  All thy pain and woe<br />
+  Was brought upon thee by my magic power,<br />
+  And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld<br />
+  Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!<br />
+  The highest place that heaven accords to men,<br />
+  Whose virtue has been tried and proved:&mdash;to that<br />
+  Ascend!"  But Harišchandra answering, said:<br />
+  "Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise<br />
+  And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee<br />
+  Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand<br />
+  With grieving hearts, longing for my return.<br />
+  Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth<br />
+  Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,<br />
+  Brâhmans, or teachers of the holy law,&mdash;<br />
+  If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,&mdash;<br />
+  Then may my labours and my toils atone,<br />
+  For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.<br />
+  For neither here, nor in the world to come,<br />
+  Can there be peace to one who casts aside<br />
+  The friend whose love is pure and true&mdash;the friend<br />
+  Who serves him from the heart.  Return!<br />
+  Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant<br />
+  My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I<br />
+  Ascend; if not, with them will I descend<br />
+  To Nâraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!<br />
+  Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,<br />
+  Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained<br />
+  A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.<br />
+  Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave<br />
+  My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king<br />
+  His kingdom rules; by them he offers up<br />
+  The kingly sacrifice, and for himself<br />
+  Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.<br />
+  So have my kinsmen too enabled me<br />
+  To work whate'er I may of righteousness.<br />
+  My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,<br />
+  Truly I owe to them, for by their aid<br />
+  Have these been possible.  May the reward<br />
+  Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.<br />
+  My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,<br />
+  I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;<br />
+  "So be it!" said the Brâhman; Dharma, too,<br />
+  Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,<br />
+  Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:<br />
+  "Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."<br />
+  The saintly Brâhman, having heard with joy<br />
+  The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil<br />
+  Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,<br />
+  The sages, and the gods, anointed him<br />
+  "Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng&mdash;<br />
+  The king, his wife, his son, his followers&mdash;<br />
+  Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend<br />
+  To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king<br />
+  Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy&mdash;<br />
+  The mighty father, who eternal bliss<br />
+  Both for his people and himself had gained,<br />
+  Once more in form and mien a king&mdash;reposed,<br />
+  Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends<br />
+  Surrounding him with a protecting wall.<br />
+  And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth<br />
+  Great Harišchandra's equal has not been<br />
+  Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,<br />
+  His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy<br />
+  For him lament, transcendant happiness<br />
+  Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire<br />
+  Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,<br />
+  Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,<br />
+  E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates<br />
+  The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,<br />
+  Like him shall enter everlasting rest.<br />
+</p>
+
+<p><br /><br /></p>
+
+<p class="t3b">
+  Mârkandeya Purâna<br />
+</p>
+
+<p class="poem"><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
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+</pre>
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+</body>
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+
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+Project Gutenberg's Markandeya Purana, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Markandeya Purana, Books VII. VIII
+
+Author: Anonymous
+
+Translator: R. Hale Wortham
+
+Posting Date: March 19, 2014 [EBook #7169]
+Release Date: December, 2004
+First Posted: March 20, 2003
+
+Language: English
+
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+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARKANDEYA PURANA, BOOKS VII. VIII ***
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+Produced by Chetan Jain, John B. Hare, and Christopher M.
+Weimer. HTML version by Al Haines.
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+  Markandeya Purana
+
+  Books VII and VIII.
+
+
+
+  JOURNAL
+
+  OF
+
+  THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+  [New Series, Volume XIII]
+
+  [London, Truebner and Company]
+
+  [1881]
+
+
+  Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002
+
+
+
+  ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Markandeya Purana__
+  Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
+
+
+
+  BOOK VII.
+
+
+  ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
+  Named Harischandra; pure in heart and mind,
+  In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
+  Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned
+  No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
+  Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
+  Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,
+  And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
+  Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
+  And loveliness the women passed their days.
+
+  It so fell out, that while this mighty king
+  Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
+  The sound of female voices raised in cry
+  Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,
+  Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
+  Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
+  That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
+  The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
+  Then, too, the fierce Ganesa,--he who blinds
+  The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
+  The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
+  "This surely is the great ascetic's work,
+  The mighty Visvamitra; he whose acts
+  Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
+  Upon the sciences he shows his power,
+  While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
+  And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
+  'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kausika
+  Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
+  Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?
+  My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought
+  Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
+  Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
+  And entering his heart, I will fulfil
+  All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son--
+  Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
+  Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
+  Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
+  While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
+  Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
+  Surely the never-ending sleep of death
+  Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
+  Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
+  Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
+  Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
+  With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
+  Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
+
+  But when the king beheld the pious sage
+  All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
+  And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
+  Then Visvamitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
+  And Harischandra, humbly falling down
+  Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
+  "O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
+  Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!
+  My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
+  "Is it not written in the Holy Law,
+  'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
+  His people must be fought for, and be kept
+  From every ill'?"  Then Visvamitra spoke
+  And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
+  For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
+  Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,
+  But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
+  "Alms should be given to Brahmans," said the king:
+  "Those who are weak should be protected: foes
+  In battle should be met and overcome."
+
+  Then Visvamitra spoke and said: "O king!
+  If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
+  Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
+  I am a holy Brahman, and I seek
+  A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
+  A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
+  The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
+  Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
+  "Fear not! but tell me, son of Kausika,
+  Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,
+  Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.
+  Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?
+  Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?
+  Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"
+  The sage replied, "thy present I accept;
+  But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,--
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice."
+  "O Brahman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;
+  Further than this, whatever be the gift
+  Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.
+  Ask what thou wilt."  Then Visvamitra spake:
+  "Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,
+  With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;
+  Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;
+  Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside
+  Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,
+  I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,
+  And this thy righteousness, that follows close
+  Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art
+  Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all--
+  All beside these.  What need of further words."
+
+  The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged
+  In countenance, hearing the sage's words,
+  Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,
+  "So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"
+  Said Visvamitra, "if the world is mine,
+  And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,
+  Since in this kingdom as a devotee
+  I dwell?"  Then Harischandra said: "'Ere this,
+  Before the world was thine by my free gift,
+  Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?
+  Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:
+  "If this indeed be so,--if the whole world
+  Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,
+  Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself
+  Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,
+  But, casting off thy royal ornaments,
+  Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."
+  The king, obedient to the sage's word,
+  Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife
+  And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:
+  "Stop, Harischandra!  Hast thou then forgot
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice
+  That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:
+  "O mighty saint! the kingdom now is __thine__;
+  All have I given to __thee__: and as for me,
+  What have I left?--nought! save myself,
+  My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"
+  Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains
+  The offering for the kingly sacrifice.
+  And this know well:  A vow to Brahmans made,
+  If unfulfilled, works special woe to him
+  Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice
+  Must offerings of worth be freely made
+  To Brahmans;--offerings until they cry
+  Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay
+  Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.
+  'Alms are for Brahmans,' thou thyself hast said,
+  'Those who are weak must be protected: foes
+  In battle must be met and overcome.'"
+  "O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth
+  Is all departed: nothing now remains
+  For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,
+  And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"
+  Said Visvamitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say
+  What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?
+  Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire
+  Shall burn thee up."  Then Harischandra said:
+  "Most holy Brahman! when a month has past
+  The money for the offering shall be thine.
+  Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant
+  Remission for the present."  Said the sage,
+  "Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!
+  And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies
+  Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king
+  Departed as an outcast;--he, the king
+  Of all the earth, an exile with his wife
+  Unused to go afoot, and with his son
+  Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose
+  On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,
+  Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!
+  Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness
+  Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full
+  Of mercy, may it overflow on us.
+  Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze
+  With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.
+  Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?
+  How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once
+  Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,
+  Who marched on foot; while stately elephants
+  Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!
+  Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!
+  Think, Harischandra! how wilt thou endure
+  The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,
+  Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us
+  Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.
+  Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,
+  Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all
+  Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,
+  We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!
+  For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,
+  And heaven itself would be no heaven to us
+  Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief
+  At these laments, the king stayed on his course,
+  In pity for his loving citizens.
+  Then Visvamitra, filled with rage, his eyes
+  Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!
+  O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.
+  How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!
+  Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,
+  And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!
+  I go!" replied the king to these rude words,
+  And trembling crept away in haste, his wife
+  Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,
+  Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,
+  The Brahman smote her fiercely with his stick.
+  Then Harischandra, pained with inmost grief,
+  Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"
+  Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,
+  The Visvadevas said: "What sin is this?
+  What torments shall indeed suffice for him
+  By whom this pious king--the offerer
+  Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.
+  Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
+  With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,
+  That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"
+
+  Then, having heard these words, the Brahman turned
+  Upon the Visvedevas; and, in wrath
+  Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:
+  "You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
+  And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed
+  His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,
+  The sage yet further added: "you shall live
+  Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born
+  To you no son, nor shall you know the state
+  Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
+  Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time
+  Has past, you shall re-enter once again
+  The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
+  Which you had lost."  The Visvedevas then
+  Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,
+  Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
+  Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pa.n.davas--
+  Mighty in war--by Visvamitra cursed,
+  Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard
+  The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,
+  Of fourfold import has been answered.
+  I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
+
+
+
+
+  BOOK VIII.
+
+
+  Said Jaimini: An answer ye have found
+  To all my questions; and indeed have filled
+  Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long
+  To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!
+  What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain
+  To any comfort answering to his woe?
+  Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.
+
+  The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,
+  O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words
+  Of Visvamitra, with his wife and son
+  Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
+  At length the holy place appeared in view--
+  The shrine of Siva; thus within himself,
+  He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,
+  Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,
+  For there man has no power."  The king approached
+  The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood
+  The Brahman Visvamitra.  Mighty Saint!
+  The king, his hands in supplication joined,
+  With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,
+  My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
+  Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose
+  Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage
+  Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
+  Give me the present for the sacrifice--
+  The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day
+  As yet remains before the month be past,
+  Oh Brahman of surpassing piety,
+  And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,
+  A few short hours."  Then Visvamitra said:
+  "So be it, king! once more I will return,
+  But if the offering be not duly paid,
+  Before the sinking of this evening's sun,
+  My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest
+  Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,
+  Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?
+  The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
+  I may not beg for alms; how can I then
+  Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world
+  Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,
+  If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass
+  From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;
+  I shall become the lowest of the low.
+  Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,
+  Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears
+  Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,
+  With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,
+  "Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!
+  The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
+  Like contact with the dead.  The highest law
+  Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
+  Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,
+  The study of the scriptures, penances,
+  Are counted not for righteousness to him
+  Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!
+  Is it not written in the sacred law:
+  'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
+  While lies and falsehood are destruction's way
+  To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,
+  'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
+  The kingly sacrifice--burnt offerings too,
+  Were offered in abundance.  That same king
+  Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,
+  He lost his righteousness, and forfeited
+  His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"--
+  Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
+  But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,
+  With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!
+  He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
+  Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,
+  "Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born
+  To none but worthy women.  This my son
+  Shall take me--he shall offer me for sale--
+  Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest
+  The promised offering."  Hearing these words,
+  He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,
+  Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,
+  Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!
+  Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
+  Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"--
+  His spirit fled again, and to the earth
+  He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,
+  The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!
+  How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
+  The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
+  A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,
+  By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given
+  An offering to the Brahman--see, he lies
+  Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!
+  Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,
+  Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
+  Against you, that he lies thus overcome
+  With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense
+  Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,
+  Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy
+  Beheld his parents lying on the ground,
+  He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
+  Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile
+  Upon the scene the mighty Brahman came;
+  And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--
+  Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
+  "Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;
+  For this thy misery from day to day
+  Increases, and will yet increase, until
+  The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch
+  Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
+  But when he saw the Brahman, faintness seized
+  His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage
+  Seized Visvamitra; but before he left,
+  The best of Brahmans said: "If what is just,
+  Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!
+  Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine
+  The sun sends forth his vivifying rays
+  Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world
+  Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.
+  By truth the very heaven itself exists.
+  Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale
+  Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
+  And sacrifices countless, still the truth
+  Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste
+  My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
+  An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
+  Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
+  With thee.  Yet hear me;--if the offering
+  Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
+  Behind the western mountain to his rest,
+  My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these
+  The Brahman left him; and the king, o'ercome
+  With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
+  Degraded to unfathomable depths--
+  The victim of his evil creditor--
+  Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
+  "O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
+  Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,
+  The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
+  What the most wicked man could hardly do,
+  That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
+  Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
+  And going with his wife into the town--
+  Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
+  "Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
+  A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
+  I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
+  I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?
+  Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"
+  (So spake an ancient Brahman to the king.)
+  "Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
+  You well for her.  My wife is delicate;
+  Her household duties are beyond her strength;
+  I want a slave, and therefore I will give
+  A price proportioned to the woman's skill
+  And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
+  And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,
+  That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king
+  Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,
+  Tying the price in the king's garment-hem--
+  His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped the queen,
+  And dragged her off.  But when the loving child
+  Beheld his mother led away, he seized
+  Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:
+  "If only for a moment, noble sir!
+  Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more
+  Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
+  And never touch again!  My child, behold
+  Thy mother, now a slave! And thou--a prince!
+  Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude
+  Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,
+  His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,
+  Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,
+  The Brahman spurned him with his foot; but he
+  Still following close would not be torn from her,
+  Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,
+  Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy
+  My son with me; divide us not!  For I
+  Without him shall be nought of use to you.
+  Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:
+  "Here! take the money! give the boy to me!
+  The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained
+  The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied
+  The money in the king's bark dress, and led
+  Them both away--the mother and the child--
+  Together bound.  But when the king beheld
+  Himself bereft of both his wife and son,
+  He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,
+  Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
+  Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave
+  Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!--
+  A scion of the noble dynasty,
+  Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,
+  And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
+  Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
+  Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke
+  The king.  Meanwhile the Brahman hastily
+  Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
+  And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king
+  The Brahman Visvamitra.  "Prince!" he said,
+  Pay me the offering!"  Harischandra gave
+  The money gained by the shameful sale
+  Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld
+  The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
+  "How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
+  Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this
+  Suffices for a sacrificial gift
+  Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind
+  Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power--
+  Power transcendant, gained by penances,
+  And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power
+  Of my pure Brahmanhood shall show itself
+  On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,
+  "But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!
+  Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied
+  The Brahman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time
+  Than the remaining fourth part of to-day
+  I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,
+  Departing with the money.  And the king,
+  Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,
+  Cried out: "If there be any one of you
+  Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak
+  While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on
+  The form of a Cha.n.dala, hastily
+  Came forward, taking pity on the king.
+  His countenance was fearful,--black, with tusks
+  Projecting; savage in his words; his smell
+  Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs
+  Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;
+  "Be quick; and whether it be large or small
+  I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"
+  The king, beholding such a loathsome form,
+  Of mien revolting--"What art thou?" he said.
+  "Men call me a Cha.n.dala," he replied.
+  I dwell in this same city--in a part
+  Of evil fame.  As of a murderer
+  Condemned to death, such is my infamy.
+  My calling is a robber of the dead."
+  "I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,
+  "To thee, a base Cha.n.dala.  Better far
+  That I should perish by the fiery curse."
+  The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint
+  Returned, his countenance with rage
+  Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:
+  "The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept
+  The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay
+  The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."
+  "O son of Kusika!" replied the king,
+  "Consider this, I pray!--my noble race!
+  Truly am I descended from the sun!
+  How can I then become, though sore in want,
+  Lowest of creatures--a Cha.n.dala's slave?"
+  "Delay no more," the Brahman said, "but pay
+  The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave
+  To the Cha.n.dala--or assuredly
+  I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"
+  The king entreated; and, immersed in care,
+  He seized the Brahman's feet, exclaiming thus:
+  "What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!
+  Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!
+  Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,
+  From this most horrible Cha.n.dala.  Sir!
+  Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will
+  Be all the object of my life!  To serve
+  Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!
+  Thus will I make the offering--I will be
+  Thy __slave__!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art
+  My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave
+  To the Cha.n.dala."  Then, filled with delight,
+  Paying the money, the Svapaka bound
+  His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,
+  Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;
+  In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dala's house
+  Abiding--morning, noon, and eventide,
+  And night, the king thus made lament:
+  "Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,
+  Looking upon her son in misery,
+  Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king
+  Will surely ransom us, for he has gained
+  By now more money than the Brahman paid
+  For us;' and all the time she little knows
+  My fate--worse than her own.  For I have passed
+  From woe to woe--kingdom and friends--my wife,
+  My son, have passed from me, and now the state
+  Of a Cha.n.dala holds me."  While he dwelt
+  A slave in the Cha.n.dala's house, the forms
+  Of those he loved were still before his eyes--
+  Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,
+  Obedient to his master's will, became
+  A robber of the dead; and night and day
+  He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil
+  Is for the king, three for thy master, two
+  For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,
+  Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."
+  Obeying the Cha.n.dala, to the place
+  Of burial he went;--an awful place,
+  Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights--
+  Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair
+  Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,
+  Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.
+  Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'
+  Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn
+  With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,
+  Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.
+  The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,
+  Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,
+  They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time
+  The howl of demons and the wail of fiends
+  Were mingled with the roar of flames--a sound
+  Of fearful import, such as ushers in
+  The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells--
+  The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,
+  Blackened with filth--the smoke, the shouts,
+  The yells--struck fear on fear into the heart.
+  The burial-place resembled nought but hell.
+  Such was the place appointed for the king.
+  "Priests! Brahmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen
+  From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!
+  Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!
+  We have been torn asunder by the power
+  Of Visvamitra."  Thoughts like these possessed
+  His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,
+  He served his master.  Running here and there,
+  Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,
+  From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,
+  Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags
+  Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet
+  With dust and ashes from the funeral piles
+  Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh
+  From contact with the bodies of the dead.
+  So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.
+  And twelve months passed--twelve weary months, which seemed
+  To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;
+  And then at last, worn out, the best of kings
+  Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch
+  All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw
+  A wondrous vision.  By the power divine
+  He seemed to wear another form,--a form
+  Both new and strange,--and in that form to pay
+  The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed
+  With difficulty.  Then within himself
+  King Harischandra thought: "So too will I,
+  When I am freed from hence, perform my vows
+  With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born
+  As a Pukkasa; while a place was found
+  For him among the dead, and funeral rites
+  Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years
+  Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought
+  A Brahman seeking sepulture: in life
+  He had been poor, but honest; and the king,
+  Though he knew this--the dead man's poverty
+  And his uprightness--pressed his friends to pay
+  The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,
+  "And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:
+  Once upon earth there was a mighty king
+  Named Harischandra; though he but disturbed
+  A Brahman's sleep, through that offence he lost
+  His merit, and by Visvamitra's curse
+  Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king
+  Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required
+  His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage--
+  "Go!--go!--thou most degraded of mankind--
+  Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream
+  The king beheld the messengers of death.
+  Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,
+  They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,
+  And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,
+  Headlong he fell into the bath of oil
+  In Naraka.  There, torn with instruments
+  Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,
+  He saw himself.  For seven years in hell--
+  Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,
+  Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds
+  Frozen and numbed--a dead Pukkasa's fate
+  He underwent.  Each day in Naraka,
+  A hundred years of mortal reckoning--
+  So count the demons who inhabit hell.
+  Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,
+  His spirit entering a filthy dog;
+  Feeding on things all foul and horrible--
+  Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.
+  His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw
+  Himself an ass; and after that an ox,
+  A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.
+  So day by day he saw his spirit change
+  Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms--
+  Some moving, others rooted to the ground--
+  Received his soul.  And when the hundred years
+  Were passed and gone, he saw himself again
+  Re-occupy his pristine human form--
+  Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose
+  His kingdom, casting it away in games
+  Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer
+  Into the forest with his wife and child:
+  Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised
+  To life again on earth, he sore bewailed
+  His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?
+  Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"
+  Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife
+  And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do
+  With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"
+  The vision faded, and he saw no more
+  The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned
+  By power divine.  And Harischandra stood
+  In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,
+  With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along--
+  Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,
+  "Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,
+  The demons hurried him before the judge;
+  And Harischandra seemed to hear the words:
+  "Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief
+  Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long
+  Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain
+  Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky
+  By Yama's messengers, falling through space--
+  Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain
+  Yet more exceeding--thought within himself,
+  "How shall I suffer all these torments sore!--
+  The changes manifold of form--the pain
+  In Naraka."  Then Harischandra sought
+  Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,
+  "Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!
+  O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,
+  O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,
+  Both far and near, before you now I come,
+  A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,
+  I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee
+  O ancient one! I pray--immutable!"
+  The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.
+  His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,
+  Recalled to him his state--the plunderer
+  Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,
+  He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,
+  For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,
+  And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,
+  Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed
+  His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen
+  Came, bearing the dead body of her son--
+  Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!
+  My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw
+  Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!
+  O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said--
+  "Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,
+  Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!
+  So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,
+  Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste
+  To rob the dead: nor did he recognize
+  His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief
+  As if into another.  And the queen
+  Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed
+  In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.
+  Then recollection dawned upon the king,
+  Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought
+  Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!
+  What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!
+  A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,
+  Long lost to me through my accursed fate,
+  Would have been even such as thou in age."
+  Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:
+  "Alas! has some unexpiated crime
+  Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.
+  My absent lord! since thou did'st not console
+  My grief in times gone by, how can the pain
+  I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose
+  Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?
+  Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king
+  Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail
+  Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again
+  His wife and son--and saying but the words,
+  "Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"
+  He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,
+  Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,
+  Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness
+  Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight
+  And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"
+  Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,
+  When I behold thy form so delicate:
+  My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,
+  Words of affection I will speak, that rise
+  Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs
+  Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust
+  That clings about my garments will pollute
+  Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st
+  An evil father!  He who should have kept
+  All dangers from thee, he it was who sold
+  Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind
+  First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!
+  Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this
+  By lawful right was thine inheritance,
+  And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears
+  Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,
+  In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,
+  Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering
+  With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:
+  "This is indeed my lord--I know his voice!
+  I know his form! this is the mighty king.
+  The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!
+  What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place
+  For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more
+  Is added to the mourning for my son--
+  My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves
+  A base Cha.n.dala.  Cursed be that god,
+  Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king
+  Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot
+  Of a Svapaka.  Ah! most noble prince,
+  My mind is filled with grief, when I recall
+  Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.
+  No kingly ensigns go before thee now,
+  No captive kings, brought down to slavery,
+  Humbly precede thee, casting in the way
+  Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.
+  But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,
+  Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed
+  With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair
+  Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes
+  Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life
+  Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,
+  And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:
+  While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed
+  Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!
+  Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,
+  Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled
+  And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,
+  Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods
+  Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence
+  If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,
+  Art brought to such a depth of infamy."
+  Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife
+  How he had fallen to this wretched state,--
+  The state of a Cha.n.dala.  She, in turn,
+  Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,
+  Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed
+  Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not
+  These evils," said the king, "by mine own will--
+  Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate
+  Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,
+  And if I fly from the Cha.n.dala's bonds,
+  The fiery torment in the depths of hell
+  Will overtake me, and I shall become
+  A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell
+  Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,
+  Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.
+  Yet from this miserable life on earth
+  There is one only refuge.  He! my son!
+  My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea
+  Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!
+  I am dependent on another's will!
+  Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!
+  For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe
+  Cares not for evil chances; not the state
+  Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood
+  Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,
+  Could add the smallest fraction to the pain
+  I have already borne.  My son is dead!
+  Who then will make atonement for my sins?
+  Yet listen to my words, beloved one,
+  If I have offered sacrifice, and paid
+  Due reverence to the saints; if I have given
+  Alms to the needy--may we meet again
+  Hereafter, in the world to come, and find
+  The refuge for our woes denied us here.
+  Let us together follow in the path
+  By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate
+  Can never alter here.  Whatever words
+  I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,
+  These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive
+  Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise
+  Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state
+  Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:
+  "I am prepared to tread that path with thee,
+  O king, most saintly! and with thee that world
+  To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king
+  Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon
+  His son, himself ascending with his wife.
+  And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought
+  Upon Narayana, the lord supreme,
+  And Vasudeva, lord of deities,
+  Siva, and Brahma the eternal god,
+  And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king
+  Was meditating, all the gods from heaven
+  Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:
+  "Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods--
+  Even the mighty gods have come to earth,
+  And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,
+  And heroes--yea, and Visvamitra too,
+  The sage implacable,--all summon thee--
+  Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,
+  That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!
+  I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee
+  To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained
+  By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,
+  Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:--
+  "O Harischandra! King, most eminent!
+  In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands--
+  For I am he.  The everlasting world
+  Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,
+  And son, ascend to heaven;--to that third heav'n--
+  So difficult to be attained by men--
+  The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained
+  Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers
+  That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds
+  Of music filled the air, and round him stood
+  The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son
+  Of Harischandra rose, restored to life,
+  And health, his mind and senses whole, his form
+  More beautiful than ever: and the king
+  Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy
+  Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.
+  Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,
+  Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself
+  Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."
+  Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!
+  Unbidden by my master, will I not
+  To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:
+  "I am thy master.  I assumed the form
+  Of a Cha.n.dala.  All thy pain and woe
+  Was brought upon thee by my magic power,
+  And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld
+  Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!
+  The highest place that heaven accords to men,
+  Whose virtue has been tried and proved:--to that
+  Ascend!"  But Harischandra answering, said:
+  "Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise
+  And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee
+  Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand
+  With grieving hearts, longing for my return.
+  Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth
+  Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,
+  Brahmans, or teachers of the holy law,--
+  If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,--
+  Then may my labours and my toils atone,
+  For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.
+  For neither here, nor in the world to come,
+  Can there be peace to one who casts aside
+  The friend whose love is pure and true--the friend
+  Who serves him from the heart.  Return!
+  Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant
+  My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I
+  Ascend; if not, with them will I descend
+  To Naraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!
+  Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,
+  Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained
+  A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.
+  Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave
+  My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king
+  His kingdom rules; by them he offers up
+  The kingly sacrifice, and for himself
+  Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.
+  So have my kinsmen too enabled me
+  To work whate'er I may of righteousness.
+  My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,
+  Truly I owe to them, for by their aid
+  Have these been possible.  May the reward
+  Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.
+  My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,
+  I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;
+  "So be it!" said the Brahman; Dharma, too,
+  Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,
+  Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:
+  "Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."
+  The saintly Brahman, having heard with joy
+  The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil
+  Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
+  The sages, and the gods, anointed him
+  "Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng--
+  The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
+  Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
+  To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
+  Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy--
+  The mighty father, who eternal bliss
+  Both for his people and himself had gained,
+  Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
+  Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
+  Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
+  And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
+  Great Harischandra's equal has not been
+  Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,
+  His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
+  For him lament, transcendant happiness
+  Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
+  Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,
+  Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
+  E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates
+  The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
+  Like him shall enter everlasting rest.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Markandeya Purana, Books VII. VIII, by Anonymous
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Markandeya Purana, Books VII., VIII.
+Translated by Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
+copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
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+Title: Markandeya Purana, Books VII. VIII
+
+Translator: Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7169]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 20, 2003]
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+Edition: 10
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+Language: English
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+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARKANDEYA PURANA, BOOKS VII., VIII. ***
+
+
+
+
+Originally scanned at sacred-texts.com by John B. Hare
+This eBook was produced by Chetan Jain at BharatLiterature
+
+
+
+
+Markandeya Purana
+
+Books VII and VIII.
+
+
+
+JOURNAL
+
+OF
+
+THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+[New Series, Volume XIII]
+
+[London, Trubner and Company]
+
+[1881]
+
+
+Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002
+
+
+
+
+ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Markandeya Purana__
+Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
+
+
+
+BOOK VII.
+
+
+ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
+Named Harischandra; pure in heart and mind,
+In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
+Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned
+No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
+Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
+Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,
+And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
+Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
+And loveliness the women passed their days.
+
+It so fell out, that while this mighty king
+Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
+The sound of female voices raised in cry
+Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,
+Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
+Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
+That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
+The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
+Then, too, the fierce Ganesa,--he who blinds
+The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
+The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
+"This surely is the great ascetic's work,
+The mighty Visvamitra; he whose acts
+Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
+Upon the sciences he shows his power,
+While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
+And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
+'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kausika
+Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
+Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?
+My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought
+Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
+Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
+And entering his heart, I will fulfil
+All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son--
+Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
+Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
+Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
+While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
+Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
+Surely the never-ending sleep of death
+Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
+Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
+Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
+Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
+With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
+Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
+
+But when the king beheld the pious sage
+All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
+And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
+Then Visvamitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
+And Harischandra, humbly falling down
+Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
+"O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
+Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!
+My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
+"Is it not written in the Holy Law,
+'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
+His people must be fought for, and be kept
+From every ill'?"  Then Visvamitra spoke
+And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
+For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
+Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,
+But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
+"Alms should be given to Brahmans," said the king:
+"Those who are weak should be protected: foes
+In battle should be met and overcome."
+
+Then Visvamitra spoke and said: "O king!
+If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
+Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
+I am a holy Brahman, and I seek
+A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
+A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
+The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
+Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
+"Fear not! but tell me, son of Kausika,
+Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,
+Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.
+Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?
+Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?
+Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"
+The sage replied, "thy present I accept;
+But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,--
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice."
+"O Brahman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;
+Further than this, whatever be the gift
+Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.
+Ask what thou wilt."  Then Visvamitra spake:
+"Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,
+With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;
+Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;
+Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside
+Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,
+I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,
+And this thy righteousness, that follows close
+Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art
+Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all--
+All beside these.  What need of further words."
+
+The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged
+In countenance, hearing the sage's words,
+Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,
+"So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"
+Said Visvamitra, "if the world is mine,
+And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,
+Since in this kingdom as a devotee
+I dwell?"  Then Harischandra said: "'Ere this,
+Before the world was thine by my free gift,
+Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?
+Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:
+"If this indeed be so,--if the whole world
+Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,
+Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself
+Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,
+But, casting off thy royal ornaments,
+Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."
+The king, obedient to the sage's word,
+Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife
+And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:
+"Stop, Harischandra!  Hast thou then forgot
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice
+That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:
+"O mighty saint! the kingdom now is __thine__;
+All have I given to __thee__: and as for me,
+What have I left?--nought! save myself,
+My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"
+Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice.
+And this know well:  A vow to Brahmans made,
+If unfulfilled, works special woe to him
+Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice
+Must offerings of worth be freely made
+To Brahmans;--offerings until they cry
+Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay
+Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.
+'Alms are for Brahmans,' thou thyself hast said,
+'Those who are weak must be protected: foes
+In battle must be met and overcome.'"
+"O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth
+Is all departed: nothing now remains
+For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,
+And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"
+Said Visvamitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say
+What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?
+Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire
+Shall burn thee up."  Then Harischandra said:
+"Most holy Brahman! when a month has past
+The money for the offering shall be thine.
+Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant
+Remission for the present."  Said the sage,
+"Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!
+And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies
+Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king
+Departed as an outcast;--he, the king
+Of all the earth, an exile with his wife
+Unused to go afoot, and with his son
+Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose
+On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,
+Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!
+Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness
+Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full
+Of mercy, may it overflow on us.
+Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze
+With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.
+Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?
+How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once
+Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,
+Who marched on foot; while stately elephants
+Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!
+Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!
+Think, Harischandra! how wilt thou endure
+The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,
+Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us
+Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.
+Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,
+Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all
+Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,
+We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!
+For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,
+And heaven itself would be no heaven to us
+Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief
+At these laments, the king stayed on his course,
+In pity for his loving citizens.
+Then Visvamitra, filled with rage, his eyes
+Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!
+O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.
+How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!
+Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,
+And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!
+I go!" replied the king to these rude words,
+And trembling crept away in haste, his wife
+Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,
+Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,
+The Brahman smote her fiercely with his stick.
+Then Harischandra, pained with inmost grief,
+Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"
+Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,
+The Visvadevas said: "What sin is this?
+What torments shall indeed suffice for him
+By whom this pious king--the offerer
+Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.
+Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
+With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,
+That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"
+
+Then, having heard these words, the Brahman turned
+Upon the Visvedevas; and, in wrath
+Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:
+"You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
+And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed
+His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,
+The sage yet further added: "you shall live
+Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born
+To you no son, nor shall you know the state
+Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
+Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time
+Has past, you shall re-enter once again
+The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
+Which you had lost."  The Visvedevas then
+Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,
+Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
+Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pa.n.davas--
+Mighty in war--by Visvamitra cursed,
+Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard
+The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,
+Of fourfold import has been answered.
+I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII.
+
+
+Said Jaimini: An answer ye have found
+To all my questions; and indeed have filled
+Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long
+To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!
+What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain
+To any comfort answering to his woe?
+Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.
+
+The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,
+O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words
+Of Visvamitra, with his wife and son
+Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
+At length the holy place appeared in view--
+The shrine of Siva; thus within himself,
+He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,
+Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,
+For there man has no power."  The king approached
+The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood
+The Brahman Visvamitra.  Mighty Saint!
+The king, his hands in supplication joined,
+With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,
+My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
+Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose
+Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage
+Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
+Give me the present for the sacrifice--
+The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day
+As yet remains before the month be past,
+Oh Brahman of surpassing piety,
+And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,
+A few short hours."  Then Visvamitra said:
+"So be it, king! once more I will return,
+But if the offering be not duly paid,
+Before the sinking of this evening's sun,
+My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest
+Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,
+Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?
+The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
+I may not beg for alms; how can I then
+Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world
+Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,
+If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass
+From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;
+I shall become the lowest of the low.
+Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,
+Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears
+Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,
+With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,
+"Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!
+The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
+Like contact with the dead.  The highest law
+Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
+Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,
+The study of the scriptures, penances,
+Are counted not for righteousness to him
+Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!
+Is it not written in the sacred law:
+'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
+While lies and falsehood are destruction's way
+To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,
+'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
+The kingly sacrifice--burnt offerings too,
+Were offered in abundance.  That same king
+Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,
+He lost his righteousness, and forfeited
+His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"--
+Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
+But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,
+With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!
+He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
+Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,
+"Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born
+To none but worthy women.  This my son
+Shall take me--he shall offer me for sale--
+Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest
+The promised offering."  Hearing these words,
+He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,
+Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,
+Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!
+Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
+Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"--
+His spirit fled again, and to the earth
+He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,
+The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!
+How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
+The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
+A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,
+By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given
+An offering to the Brahman--see, he lies
+Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!
+Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,
+Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
+Against you, that he lies thus overcome
+With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense
+Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,
+Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy
+Beheld his parents lying on the ground,
+He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
+Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile
+Upon the scene the mighty Brahman came;
+And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--
+Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
+"Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;
+For this thy misery from day to day
+Increases, and will yet increase, until
+The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch
+Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
+But when he saw the Brahman, faintness seized
+His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage
+Seized Visvamitra; but before he left,
+The best of Brahmans said: "If what is just,
+Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!
+Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine
+The sun sends forth his vivifying rays
+Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world
+Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.
+By truth the very heaven itself exists.
+Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale
+Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
+And sacrifices countless, still the truth
+Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste
+My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
+An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
+Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
+With thee.  Yet hear me;--if the offering
+Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
+Behind the western mountain to his rest,
+My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these
+The Brahman left him; and the king, o'ercome
+With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
+Degraded to unfathomable depths--
+The victim of his evil creditor--
+Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
+"O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
+Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,
+The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
+What the most wicked man could hardly do,
+That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
+Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
+And going with his wife into the town--
+Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
+"Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
+A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
+I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
+I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?
+Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"
+(So spake an ancient Brahman to the king.)
+"Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
+You well for her.  My wife is delicate;
+Her household duties are beyond her strength;
+I want a slave, and therefore I will give
+A price proportioned to the woman's skill
+And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
+And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,
+That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king
+Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,
+Tying the price in the king's garment-hem--
+His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped the queen,
+And dragged her off.  But when the loving child
+Beheld his mother led away, he seized
+Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:
+"If only for a moment, noble sir!
+Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more
+Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
+And never touch again!  My child, behold
+Thy mother, now a slave! And thou--a prince!
+Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude
+Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,
+His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,
+Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,
+The Brahman spurned him with his foot; but he
+Still following close would not be torn from her,
+Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,
+Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy
+My son with me; divide us not!  For I
+Without him shall be nought of use to you.
+Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:
+"Here! take the money! give the boy to me!
+The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained
+The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied
+The money in the king's bark dress, and led
+Them both away--the mother and the child--
+Together bound.  But when the king beheld
+Himself bereft of both his wife and son,
+He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,
+Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
+Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave
+Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!--
+A scion of the noble dynasty,
+Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,
+And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
+Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
+Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke
+The king.  Meanwhile the Brahman hastily
+Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
+And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king
+The Brahman Visvamitra.  "Prince!" he said,
+Pay me the offering!"  Harischandra gave
+The money gained by the shameful sale
+Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld
+The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
+"How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
+Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this
+Suffices for a sacrificial gift
+Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind
+Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power--
+Power transcendant, gained by penances,
+And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power
+Of my pure Brahmanhood shall show itself
+On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,
+"But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!
+Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied
+The Brahman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time
+Than the remaining fourth part of to-day
+I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,
+Departing with the money.  And the king,
+Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,
+Cried out: "If there be any one of you
+Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak
+While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on
+The form of a Cha.n.dala, hastily
+Came forward, taking pity on the king.
+His countenance was fearful,--black, with tusks
+Projecting; savage in his words; his smell
+Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs
+Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;
+"Be quick; and whether it be large or small
+I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"
+The king, beholding such a loathsome form,
+Of mien revolting--"What art thou?" he said.
+"Men call me a Cha.n.dala," he replied.
+I dwell in this same city--in a part
+Of evil fame.  As of a murderer
+Condemned to death, such is my infamy.
+My calling is a robber of the dead."
+"I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,
+"To thee, a base Cha.n.dala.  Better far
+That I should perish by the fiery curse."
+The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint
+Returned, his countenance with rage
+Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:
+"The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept
+The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay
+The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."
+"O son of Kusika!" replied the king,
+"Consider this, I pray!--my noble race!
+Truly am I descended from the sun!
+How can I then become, though sore in want,
+Lowest of creatures--a Cha.n.dala's slave?"
+"Delay no more," the Brahman said, "but pay
+The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave
+To the Cha.n.dala--or assuredly
+I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"
+The king entreated; and, immersed in care,
+He seized the Brahman's feet, exclaiming thus:
+"What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!
+Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!
+Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,
+From this most horrible Cha.n.dala.  Sir!
+Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will
+Be all the object of my life!  To serve
+Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!
+Thus will I make the offering--I will be
+Thy __slave__!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art
+My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave
+To the Cha.n.dala."  Then, filled with delight,
+Paying the money, the Svapaka bound
+His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,
+Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;
+In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dala's house
+Abiding--morning, noon, and eventide,
+And night, the king thus made lament:
+"Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,
+Looking upon her son in misery,
+Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king
+Will surely ransom us, for he has gained
+By now more money than the Brahman paid
+For us;' and all the time she little knows
+My fate--worse than her own.  For I have passed
+From woe to woe--kingdom and friends--my wife,
+My son, have passed from me, and now the state
+Of a Cha.n.dala holds me."  While he dwelt
+A slave in the Cha.n.dala's house, the forms
+Of those he loved were still before his eyes--
+Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,
+Obedient to his master's will, became
+A robber of the dead; and night and day
+He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil
+Is for the king, three for thy master, two
+For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,
+Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."
+Obeying the Cha.n.dala, to the place
+Of burial he went;--an awful place,
+Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights--
+Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair
+Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,
+Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.
+Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'
+Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn
+With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,
+Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.
+The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,
+Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,
+They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time
+The howl of demons and the wail of fiends
+Were mingled with the roar of flames--a sound
+Of fearful import, such as ushers in
+The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells--
+The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,
+Blackened with filth--the smoke, the shouts,
+The yells--struck fear on fear into the heart.
+The burial-place resembled nought but hell.
+Such was the place appointed for the king.
+"Priests! Brahmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen
+From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!
+Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!
+We have been torn asunder by the power
+Of Visvamitra."  Thoughts like these possessed
+His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,
+He served his master.  Running here and there,
+Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,
+From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,
+Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags
+Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet
+With dust and ashes from the funeral piles
+Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh
+From contact with the bodies of the dead.
+So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.
+And twelve months passed--twelve weary months, which seemed
+To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;
+And then at last, worn out, the best of kings
+Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch
+All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw
+A wondrous vision.  By the power divine
+He seemed to wear another form,--a form
+Both new and strange,--and in that form to pay
+The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed
+With difficulty.  Then within himself
+King Harischandra thought: "So too will I,
+When I am freed from hence, perform my vows
+With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born
+As a Pukkasa; while a place was found
+For him among the dead, and funeral rites
+Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years
+Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought
+A Brahman seeking sepulture: in life
+He had been poor, but honest; and the king,
+Though he knew this--the dead man's poverty
+And his uprightness--pressed his friends to pay
+The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,
+"And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:
+Once upon earth there was a mighty king
+Named Harischandra; though he but disturbed
+A Brahman's sleep, through that offence he lost
+His merit, and by Visvamitra's curse
+Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king
+Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required
+His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage--
+"Go!--go!--thou most degraded of mankind--
+Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream
+The king beheld the messengers of death.
+Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,
+They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,
+And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,
+Headlong he fell into the bath of oil
+In Naraka.  There, torn with instruments
+Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,
+He saw himself.  For seven years in hell--
+Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,
+Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds
+Frozen and numbed--a dead Pukkasa's fate
+He underwent.  Each day in Naraka,
+A hundred years of mortal reckoning--
+So count the demons who inhabit hell.
+Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,
+His spirit entering a filthy dog;
+Feeding on things all foul and horrible--
+Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.
+His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw
+Himself an ass; and after that an ox,
+A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.
+So day by day he saw his spirit change
+Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms--
+Some moving, others rooted to the ground--
+Received his soul.  And when the hundred years
+Were passed and gone, he saw himself again
+Re-occupy his pristine human form--
+Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose
+His kingdom, casting it away in games
+Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer
+Into the forest with his wife and child:
+Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised
+To life again on earth, he sore bewailed
+His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?
+Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"
+Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife
+And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do
+With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"
+The vision faded, and he saw no more
+The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned
+By power divine.  And Harischandra stood
+In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,
+With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along--
+Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,
+"Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,
+The demons hurried him before the judge;
+And Harischandra seemed to hear the words:
+"Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief
+Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long
+Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain
+Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky
+By Yama's messengers, falling through space--
+Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain
+Yet more exceeding--thought within himself,
+"How shall I suffer all these torments sore!--
+The changes manifold of form--the pain
+In Naraka."  Then Harischandra sought
+Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,
+"Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!
+O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,
+O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,
+Both far and near, before you now I come,
+A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,
+I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee
+O ancient one! I pray--immutable!"
+The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.
+His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,
+Recalled to him his state--the plunderer
+Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,
+He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,
+For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,
+And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,
+Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed
+His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen
+Came, bearing the dead body of her son--
+Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!
+My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw
+Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!
+O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said--
+"Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,
+Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!
+So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,
+Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste
+To rob the dead: nor did he recognize
+His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief
+As if into another.  And the queen
+Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed
+In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.
+Then recollection dawned upon the king,
+Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought
+Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!
+What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!
+A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,
+Long lost to me through my accursed fate,
+Would have been even such as thou in age."
+Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:
+"Alas! has some unexpiated crime
+Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.
+My absent lord! since thou did'st not console
+My grief in times gone by, how can the pain
+I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose
+Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?
+Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king
+Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail
+Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again
+His wife and son--and saying but the words,
+"Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"
+He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,
+Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,
+Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness
+Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight
+And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"
+Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,
+When I behold thy form so delicate:
+My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,
+Words of affection I will speak, that rise
+Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs
+Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust
+That clings about my garments will pollute
+Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st
+An evil father!  He who should have kept
+All dangers from thee, he it was who sold
+Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind
+First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!
+Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this
+By lawful right was thine inheritance,
+And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears
+Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,
+In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,
+Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering
+With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:
+"This is indeed my lord--I know his voice!
+I know his form! this is the mighty king.
+The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!
+What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place
+For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more
+Is added to the mourning for my son--
+My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves
+A base Cha.n.dala.  Cursed be that god,
+Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king
+Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot
+Of a Svapaka.  Ah! most noble prince,
+My mind is filled with grief, when I recall
+Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.
+No kingly ensigns go before thee now,
+No captive kings, brought down to slavery,
+Humbly precede thee, casting in the way
+Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.
+But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,
+Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed
+With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair
+Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes
+Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life
+Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,
+And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:
+While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed
+Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!
+Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,
+Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled
+And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,
+Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods
+Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence
+If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,
+Art brought to such a depth of infamy."
+Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife
+How he had fallen to this wretched state,--
+The state of a Cha.n.dala.  She, in turn,
+Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,
+Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed
+Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not
+These evils," said the king, "by mine own will--
+Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate
+Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,
+And if I fly from the Cha.n.dala's bonds,
+The fiery torment in the depths of hell
+Will overtake me, and I shall become
+A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell
+Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,
+Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.
+Yet from this miserable life on earth
+There is one only refuge.  He! my son!
+My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea
+Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!
+I am dependent on another's will!
+Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!
+For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe
+Cares not for evil chances; not the state
+Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood
+Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,
+Could add the smallest fraction to the pain
+I have already borne.  My son is dead!
+Who then will make atonement for my sins?
+Yet listen to my words, beloved one,
+If I have offered sacrifice, and paid
+Due reverence to the saints; if I have given
+Alms to the needy--may we meet again
+Hereafter, in the world to come, and find
+The refuge for our woes denied us here.
+Let us together follow in the path
+By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate
+Can never alter here.  Whatever words
+I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,
+These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive
+Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise
+Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state
+Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:
+"I am prepared to tread that path with thee,
+O king, most saintly! and with thee that world
+To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king
+Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon
+His son, himself ascending with his wife.
+And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought
+Upon Narayana, the lord supreme,
+And Vasudeva, lord of deities,
+Siva, and Brahma the eternal god,
+And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king
+Was meditating, all the gods from heaven
+Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:
+"Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods--
+Even the mighty gods have come to earth,
+And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,
+And heroes--yea, and Visvamitra too,
+The sage implacable,--all summon thee--
+Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,
+That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!
+I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee
+To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained
+By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,
+Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:--
+"O Harischandra! King, most eminent!
+In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands--
+For I am he.  The everlasting world
+Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,
+And son, ascend to heaven;--to that third heav'n--
+So difficult to be attained by men--
+The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained
+Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers
+That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds
+Of music filled the air, and round him stood
+The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son
+Of Harischandra rose, restored to life,
+And health, his mind and senses whole, his form
+More beautiful than ever: and the king
+Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy
+Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.
+Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,
+Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself
+Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."
+Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!
+Unbidden by my master, will I not
+To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:
+"I am thy master.  I assumed the form
+Of a Cha.n.dala.  All thy pain and woe
+Was brought upon thee by my magic power,
+And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld
+Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!
+The highest place that heaven accords to men,
+Whose virtue has been tried and proved:--to that
+Ascend!"  But Harischandra answering, said:
+"Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise
+And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee
+Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand
+With grieving hearts, longing for my return.
+Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth
+Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,
+Brahmans, or teachers of the holy law,--
+If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,--
+Then may my labours and my toils atone,
+For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.
+For neither here, nor in the world to come,
+Can there be peace to one who casts aside
+The friend whose love is pure and true--the friend
+Who serves him from the heart.  Return!
+Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant
+My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I
+Ascend; if not, with them will I descend
+To Naraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!
+Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,
+Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained
+A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.
+Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave
+My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king
+His kingdom rules; by them he offers up
+The kingly sacrifice, and for himself
+Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.
+So have my kinsmen too enabled me
+To work whate'er I may of righteousness.
+My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,
+Truly I owe to them, for by their aid
+Have these been possible.  May the reward
+Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.
+My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,
+I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;
+"So be it!" said the Brahman; Dharma, too,
+Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,
+Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:
+"Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."
+The saintly Brahman, having heard with joy
+The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil
+Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
+The sages, and the gods, anointed him
+"Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng--
+The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
+Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
+To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
+Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy--
+The mighty father, who eternal bliss
+Both for his people and himself had gained,
+Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
+Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
+Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
+And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
+Great Harischandra's equal has not been
+Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,
+His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
+For him lament, transcendant happiness
+Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
+Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,
+Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
+E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates
+The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
+Like him shall enter everlasting rest.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Markandeya Purana, Books VII., VIII.
+Translated by Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MARKANDEYA PURANA, BOOKS VII. VIII ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII., VIII.
+Translated by Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
+copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII
+
+Translated by: Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+
+Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7169]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 20, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MâRKANDEYA PURâNA, BOOKS VII., VIII. ***
+
+
+
+
+Originally scanned at sacred-texts.com by John B. Hare.
+This eBook was produced by Chetan Jain at BharatLiterature.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Mârkandeya Purâna
+
+Books VII and VIII.
+
+
+
+JOURNAL
+
+OF
+
+THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+[New Series, Volume XIII]
+
+[London, Trübner and Company]
+
+[1881]
+
+
+Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002
+
+
+
+ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Mârkandeya Purâna__
+Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
+
+
+
+BOOK VII.
+
+
+ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
+Named Harišchandra; pure in heart and mind,
+In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
+Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned
+No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
+Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
+Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,
+And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
+Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
+And loveliness the women passed their days.
+
+It so fell out, that while this mighty king
+Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
+The sound of female voices raised in cry
+Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,
+Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
+Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
+That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
+The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
+Then, too, the fierce Ganeša,--he who blinds
+The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
+The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
+"This surely is the great ascetic's work,
+The mighty Višvâmitra; he whose acts
+Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
+Upon the sciences he shows his power,
+While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
+And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
+'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kaušika
+Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
+Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?
+My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought
+Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
+Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
+And entering his heart, I will fulfil
+All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son--
+Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
+Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
+Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
+While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
+Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
+Surely the never-ending sleep of death
+Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
+Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
+Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
+Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
+With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
+Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
+
+But when the king beheld the pious sage
+All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
+And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
+Then Višvâmitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
+And Harišchandra, humbly falling down
+Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
+"O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
+Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!
+My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
+"Is it not written in the Holy Law,
+'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
+His people must be fought for, and be kept
+From every ill'?"  Then Višvâmitra spoke
+And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
+For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
+Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,
+But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
+"Alms should be given to Brâhmans," said the king:
+"Those who are weak should be protected: foes
+In battle should be met and overcome."
+
+Then Višvâmitra spoke and said: "O king!
+If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
+Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
+I am a holy Brâhman, and I seek
+A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
+A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
+The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
+Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
+"Fear not! but tell me, son of Kaušika,
+Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,
+Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.
+Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?
+Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?
+Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"
+The sage replied, "thy present I accept;
+But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,--
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice."
+"O Brâhman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;
+Further than this, whatever be the gift
+Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.
+Ask what thou wilt."  Then Višvâmitra spake:
+"Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,
+With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;
+Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;
+Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside
+Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,
+I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,
+And this thy righteousness, that follows close
+Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art
+Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all--
+All beside these.  What need of further words."
+
+The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged
+In countenance, hearing the sage's words,
+Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,
+"So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"
+Said Višvâmitra, "if the world is mine,
+And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,
+Since in this kingdom as a devotee
+I dwell?"  Then Harišchandra said: "'Ere this,
+Before the world was thine by my free gift,
+Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?
+Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:
+"If this indeed be so,--if the whole world
+Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,
+Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself
+Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,
+But, casting off thy royal ornaments,
+Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."
+The king, obedient to the sage's word,
+Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife
+And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:
+"Stop, Harišchandra!  Hast thou then forgot
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice
+That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:
+"O mighty saint! the kingdom now is __thine__;
+All have I given to __thee__: and as for me,
+What have I left?--nought! save myself,
+My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"
+Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice.
+And this know well:  A vow to Brâhmans made,
+If unfulfilled, works special woe to him
+Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice
+Must offerings of worth be freely made
+To Brâhmans;--offerings until they cry
+Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay
+Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.
+'Alms are for Brâhmans,' thou thyself hast said,
+'Those who are weak must be protected: foes
+In battle must be met and overcome.'"
+"O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth
+Is all departed: nothing now remains
+For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,
+And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"
+Said Višvâmitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say
+What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?
+Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire
+Shall burn thee up."  Then Harišchandra said:
+"Most holy Brâhman! when a month has past
+The money for the offering shall be thine.
+Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant
+Remission for the present."  Said the sage,
+"Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!
+And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies
+Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king
+Departed as an outcast;--he, the king
+Of all the earth, an exile with his wife
+Unused to go afoot, and with his son
+Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose
+On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,
+Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!
+Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness
+Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full
+Of mercy, may it overflow on us.
+Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze
+With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.
+Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?
+How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once
+Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,
+Who marched on foot; while stately elephants
+Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!
+Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!
+Think, Harišchandra! how wilt thou endure
+The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,
+Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us
+Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.
+Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,
+Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all
+Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,
+We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!
+For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,
+And heaven itself would be no heaven to us
+Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief
+At these laments, the king stayed on his course,
+In pity for his loving citizens.
+Then Višvâmitra, filled with rage, his eyes
+Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!
+O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.
+How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!
+Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,
+And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!
+I go!" replied the king to these rude words,
+And trembling crept away in haste, his wife
+Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,
+Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,
+The Brâhman smote her fiercely with his stick.
+Then Harišchandra, pained with inmost grief,
+Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"
+Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,
+The Višvadevas said: "What sin is this?
+What torments shall indeed suffice for him
+By whom this pious king--the offerer
+Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.
+Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
+With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,
+That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"
+
+Then, having heard these words, the Brâhman turned
+Upon the Višvedevâs; and, in wrath
+Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:
+"You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
+And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed
+His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,
+The sage yet further added: "you shall live
+Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born
+To you no son, nor shall you know the state
+Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
+Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time
+Has past, you shall re-enter once again
+The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
+Which you had lost."  The Višvedevâs then
+Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,
+Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
+Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pâ.n.davas--
+Mighty in war--by Višvâmitra cursed,
+Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard
+The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,
+Of fourfold import has been answered.
+I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII.
+
+
+Said Jaimîni: An answer ye have found
+To all my questions; and indeed have filled
+Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long
+To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!
+What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain
+To any comfort answering to his woe?
+Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.
+
+The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,
+O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words
+Of Višvâmitra, with his wife and son
+Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
+At length the holy place appeared in view--
+The shrine of Šiva; thus within himself,
+He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,
+Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,
+For there man has no power."  The king approached
+The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood
+The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  Mighty Saint!
+The king, his hands in supplication joined,
+With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,
+My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
+Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose
+Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage
+Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
+Give me the present for the sacrifice--
+The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day
+As yet remains before the month be past,
+Oh Brâhman of surpassing piety,
+And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,
+A few short hours."  Then Višvâmitra said:
+"So be it, king! once more I will return,
+But if the offering be not duly paid,
+Before the sinking of this evening's sun,
+My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest
+Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,
+Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?
+The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
+I may not beg for alms; how can I then
+Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world
+Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,
+If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass
+From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;
+I shall become the lowest of the low.
+Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,
+Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears
+Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,
+With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,
+"Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!
+The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
+Like contact with the dead.  The highest law
+Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
+Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,
+The study of the scriptures, penances,
+Are counted not for righteousness to him
+Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!
+Is it not written in the sacred law:
+'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
+While lies and falsehood are destruction's way
+To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,
+'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
+The kingly sacrifice--burnt offerings too,
+Were offered in abundance.  That same king
+Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,
+He lost his righteousness, and forfeited
+His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"--
+Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
+But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,
+With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!
+He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
+Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,
+"Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born
+To none but worthy women.  This my son
+Shall take me--he shall offer me for sale--
+Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest
+The promised offering."  Hearing these words,
+He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,
+Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,
+Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!
+Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
+Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"--
+His spirit fled again, and to the earth
+He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,
+The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!
+How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
+The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
+A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,
+By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given
+An offering to the Brâhman--see, he lies
+Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!
+Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,
+Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
+Against you, that he lies thus overcome
+With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense
+Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,
+Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy
+Beheld his parents lying on the ground,
+He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
+Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile
+Upon the scene the mighty Brâhman came;
+And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--
+Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
+"Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;
+For this thy misery from day to day
+Increases, and will yet increase, until
+The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch
+Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
+But when he saw the Brâhman, faintness seized
+His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage
+Seized Višvâmitra; but before he left,
+The best of Brâhmans said: "If what is just,
+Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!
+Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine
+The sun sends forth his vivifying rays
+Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world
+Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.
+By truth the very heaven itself exists.
+Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale
+Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
+And sacrifices countless, still the truth
+Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste
+My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
+An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
+Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
+With thee.  Yet hear me;--if the offering
+Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
+Behind the western mountain to his rest,
+My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these
+The Brâhman left him; and the king, o'ercome
+With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
+Degraded to unfathomable depths--
+The victim of his evil creditor--
+Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
+"O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
+Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,
+The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
+What the most wicked man could hardly do,
+That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
+Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
+And going with his wife into the town--
+Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
+"Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
+A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
+I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
+I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?
+Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"
+(So spake an ancient Brâhman to the king.)
+"Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
+You well for her.  My wife is delicate;
+Her household duties are beyond her strength;
+I want a slave, and therefore I will give
+A price proportioned to the woman's skill
+And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
+And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,
+That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king
+Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,
+Tying the price in the king's garment-hem--
+His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped the queen,
+And dragged her off.  But when the loving child
+Beheld his mother led away, he seized
+Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:
+"If only for a moment, noble sir!
+Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more
+Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
+And never touch again!  My child, behold
+Thy mother, now a slave! And thou--a prince!
+Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude
+Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,
+His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,
+Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,
+The Brâhman spurned him with his foot; but he
+Still following close would not be torn from her,
+Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,
+Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy
+My son with me; divide us not!  For I
+Without him shall be nought of use to you.
+Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:
+"Here! take the money! give the boy to me!
+The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained
+The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied
+The money in the king's bark dress, and led
+Them both away--the mother and the child--
+Together bound.  But when the king beheld
+Himself bereft of both his wife and son,
+He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,
+Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
+Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave
+Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!--
+A scion of the noble dynasty,
+Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,
+And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
+Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
+Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke
+The king.  Meanwhile the Brâhman hastily
+Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
+And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king
+The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  "Prince!" he said,
+Pay me the offering!"  Harišchandra gave
+The money gainèd by the shameful sale
+Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld
+The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
+"How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
+Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this
+Suffices for a sacrificial gift
+Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind
+Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power--
+Power transcendant, gained by penances,
+And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power
+Of my pure Brâhmanhood shall show itself
+On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,
+"But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!
+Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied
+The Brâhman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time
+Than the remaining fourth part of to-day
+I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,
+Departing with the money.  And the king,
+Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,
+Cried out: "If there be any one of you
+Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak
+While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on
+The form of a Cha.n.dâla, hastily
+Came forward, taking pity on the king.
+His countenance was fearful,--black, with tusks
+Projecting; savage in his words; his smell
+Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs
+Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;
+"Be quick; and whether it be large or small
+I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"
+The king, beholding such a loathsome form,
+Of mien revolting--"What art thou?" he said.
+"Men call me a Cha.n.dâla," he replied.
+I dwell in this same city--in a part
+Of evil fame.  As of a murderer
+Condemned to death, such is my infamy.
+My calling is a robber of the dead."
+"I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,
+"To thee, a base Cha.n.dâla.  Better far
+That I should perish by the fiery curse."
+The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint
+Returned, his countenance with rage
+Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:
+"The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept
+The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay
+The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."
+"O son of Kušika!" replied the king,
+"Consider this, I pray!--my noble race!
+Truly am I descended from the sun!
+How can I then become, though sore in want,
+Lowest of creatures--a Cha.n.dâla's slave?"
+"Delay no more," the Brâhman said, "but pay
+The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave
+To the Cha.n.dâla--or assuredly
+I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"
+The king entreated; and, immersed in care,
+He seized the Brâhman's feet, exclaiming thus:
+"What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!
+Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!
+Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,
+From this most horrible Cha.n.dâla.  Sir!
+Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will
+Be all the object of my life!  To serve
+Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!
+Thus will I make the offering--I will be
+Thy __slave__!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art
+My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave
+To the Cha.n.dâla."  Then, filled with delight,
+Paying the money, the Švapâka bound
+His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,
+Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;
+In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dâla's house
+Abiding--morning, noon, and eventide,
+And night, the king thus made lament:
+"Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,
+Looking upon her son in misery,
+Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king
+Will surely ransom us, for he has gained
+By now more money than the Brâhman paid
+For us;' and all the time she little knows
+My fate--worse than her own.  For I have passed
+From woe to woe--kingdom and friends--my wife,
+My son, have passed from me, and now the state
+Of a Cha.n.dâla holds me."  While he dwelt
+A slave in the Cha.n.dâla's house, the forms
+Of those he loved were still before his eyes--
+Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,
+Obedient to his master's will, became
+A robber of the dead; and night and day
+He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil
+Is for the king, three for thy master, two
+For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,
+Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."
+Obeying the Cha.n.dâla, to the place
+Of burial he went;--an awful place,
+Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights--
+Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair
+Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,
+Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.
+Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'
+Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn
+With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,
+Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.
+The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,
+Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,
+They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time
+The howl of demons and the wail of fiends
+Were mingled with the roar of flames--a sound
+Of fearful import, such as ushers in
+The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells--
+The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,
+Blackened with filth--the smoke, the shouts,
+The yells--struck fear on fear into the heart.
+The burial-place resembled nought but hell.
+Such was the place appointed for the king.
+"Priests! Brâhmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen
+From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!
+Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!
+We have been torn asunder by the power
+Of Višvâmitra."  Thoughts like these possessed
+His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,
+He served his master.  Running here and there,
+Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,
+From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,
+Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags
+Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet
+With dust and ashes from the funeral piles
+Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh
+From contact with the bodies of the dead.
+So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.
+And twelve months passed--twelve weary months, which seemed
+To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;
+And then at last, worn out, the best of kings
+Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch
+All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw
+A wondrous vision.  By the power divine
+He seemed to wear another form,--a form
+Both new and strange,--and in that form to pay
+The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed
+With difficulty.  Then within himself
+King Harišchandra thought: "So too will I,
+When I am freed from hence, perform my vows
+With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born
+As a Pukkasa; while a place was found
+For him among the dead, and funeral rites
+Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years
+Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought
+A Brâhman seeking sepulture: in life
+He had been poor, but honest; and the king,
+Though he knew this--the dead man's poverty
+And his uprightness--pressed his friends to pay
+The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,
+"And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:
+Once upon earth there was a mighty king
+Named Harišchandra; though he but disturbed
+A Brâhman's sleep, through that offence he lost
+His merit, and by Višvâmitra's curse
+Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king
+Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required
+His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage--
+"Go!--go!--thou most degraded of mankind--
+Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream
+The king beheld the messengers of death.
+Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,
+They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,
+And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,
+Headlong he fell into the bath of oil
+In Nâraka.  There, torn with instruments
+Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,
+He saw himself.  For seven years in hell--
+Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,
+Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds
+Frozen and numbed--a dead Pukkasa's fate
+He underwent.  Each day in Nâraka,
+A hundred years of mortal reckoning--
+So count the demons who inhabit hell.
+Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,
+His spirit entering a filthy dog;
+Feeding on things all foul and horrible--
+Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.
+His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw
+Himself an ass; and after that an ox,
+A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.
+So day by day he saw his spirit change
+Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms--
+Some moving, others rooted to the ground--
+Received his soul.  And when the hundred years
+Were passed and gone, he saw himself again
+Re-occupy his pristine human form--
+Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose
+His kingdom, casting it away in games
+Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer
+Into the forest with his wife and child:
+Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised
+To life again on earth, he sore bewailed
+His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?
+Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"
+Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife
+And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do
+With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"
+The vision faded, and he saw no more
+The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned
+By power divine.  And Harišchandra stood
+In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,
+With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along--
+Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,
+"Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,
+The demons hurried him before the judge;
+And Harišchandra seemed to hear the words:
+"Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief
+Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long
+Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain
+Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky
+By Yama's messengers, falling through space--
+Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain
+Yet more exceeding--thought within himself,
+"How shall I suffer all these torments sore!--
+The changes manifold of form--the pain
+In Nâraka."  Then Harišchandra sought
+Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,
+"Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!
+O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,
+O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,
+Both far and near, before you now I come,
+A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,
+I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee
+O ancient one! I pray--immutable!"
+The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.
+His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,
+Recalled to him his state--the plunderer
+Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,
+He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,
+For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,
+And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,
+Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed
+His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen
+Came, bearing the dead body of her son--
+Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!
+My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw
+Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!
+O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said--
+"Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,
+Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!
+So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,
+Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste
+To rob the dead: nor did he recognize
+His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief
+As if into another.  And the queen
+Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed
+In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.
+Then recollection dawned upon the king,
+Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought
+Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!
+What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!
+A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,
+Long lost to me through my accursed fate,
+Would have been even such as thou in age."
+Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:
+"Alas! has some unexpiated crime
+Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.
+My absent lord! since thou did'st not console
+My grief in times gone by, how can the pain
+I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose
+Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?
+Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king
+Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail
+Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again
+His wife and son--and saying but the words,
+"Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"
+He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,
+Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,
+Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness
+Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight
+And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"
+Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,
+When I behold thy form so delicate:
+My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,
+Words of affection I will speak, that rise
+Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs
+Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust
+That clings about my garments will pollute
+Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st
+An evil father!  He who should have kept
+All dangers from thee, he it was who sold
+Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind
+First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!
+Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this
+By lawful right was thine inheritance,
+And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears
+Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,
+In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,
+Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering
+With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:
+"This is indeed my lord--I know his voice!
+I know his form! this is the mighty king.
+The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!
+What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place
+For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more
+Is added to the mourning for my son--
+My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves
+A base Cha.n.dâla.  Curséd be that god,
+Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king
+Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot
+Of a Švapâka.  Ah! most noble prince,
+My mind is filled with grief, when I recall
+Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.
+No kingly ensigns go before thee now,
+No captive kings, brought down to slavery,
+Humbly precede thee, casting in the way
+Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.
+But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,
+Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed
+With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair
+Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes
+Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life
+Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,
+And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:
+While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed
+Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!
+Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,
+Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled
+And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,
+Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods
+Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence
+If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,
+Art brought to such a depth of infamy."
+Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife
+How he had fallen to this wretched state,--
+The state of a Cha.n.dâla.  She, in turn,
+Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,
+Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed
+Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not
+These evils," said the king, "by mine own will--
+Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate
+Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,
+And if I fly from the Cha.n.dâla's bonds,
+The fiery torment in the depths of hell
+Will overtake me, and I shall become
+A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell
+Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,
+Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.
+Yet from this miserable life on earth
+There is one only refuge.  He! my son!
+My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea
+Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!
+I am dependent on another's will!
+Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!
+For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe
+Cares not for evil chances; not the state
+Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood
+Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,
+Could add the smallest fraction to the pain
+I have already borne.  My son is dead!
+Who then will make atonement for my sins?
+Yet listen to my words, beloved one,
+If I have offered sacrifice, and paid
+Due reverence to the saints; if I have given
+Alms to the needy--may we meet again
+Hereafter, in the world to come, and find
+The refuge for our woes denied us here.
+Let us together follow in the path
+By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate
+Can never alter here.  Whatever words
+I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,
+These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive
+Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise
+Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state
+Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:
+"I am prepared to tread that path with thee,
+O king, most saintly! and with thee that world
+To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king
+Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon
+His son, himself ascending with his wife.
+And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought
+Upon Nârâyana, the lord supreme,
+And Vâsudeva, lord of deities,
+Šiva, and Brâhma the eternal god,
+And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king
+Was meditating, all the gods from heaven
+Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:
+"Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods--
+Even the mighty gods have come to earth,
+And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,
+And heroes--yea, and Višvâmitra too,
+The sage implacable,--all summon thee--
+Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,
+That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!
+I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee
+To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained
+By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,
+Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:--
+"O Harišchandra! King, most eminent!
+In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands--
+For I am he.  The everlasting world
+Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,
+And son, ascend to heaven;--to that third heav'n--
+So difficult to be attained by men--
+The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained
+Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers
+That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds
+Of music filled the air, and round him stood
+The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son
+Of Harišchandra rose, restored to life,
+And health, his mind and senses whole, his form
+More beautiful than ever: and the king
+Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy
+Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.
+Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,
+Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself
+Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."
+Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!
+Unbidden by my master, will I not
+To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:
+"I am thy master.  I assumed the form
+Of a Cha.n.dâla.  All thy pain and woe
+Was brought upon thee by my magic power,
+And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld
+Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!
+The highest place that heaven accords to men,
+Whose virtue has been tried and proved:--to that
+Ascend!"  But Harišchandra answering, said:
+"Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise
+And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee
+Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand
+With grieving hearts, longing for my return.
+Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth
+Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,
+Brâhmans, or teachers of the holy law,--
+If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,--
+Then may my labours and my toils atone,
+For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.
+For neither here, nor in the world to come,
+Can there be peace to one who casts aside
+The friend whose love is pure and true--the friend
+Who serves him from the heart.  Return!
+Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant
+My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I
+Ascend; if not, with them will I descend
+To Nâraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!
+Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,
+Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained
+A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.
+Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave
+My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king
+His kingdom rules; by them he offers up
+The kingly sacrifice, and for himself
+Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.
+So have my kinsmen too enabled me
+To work whate'er I may of righteousness.
+My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,
+Truly I owe to them, for by their aid
+Have these been possible.  May the reward
+Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.
+My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,
+I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;
+"So be it!" said the Brâhman; Dharma, too,
+Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,
+Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:
+"Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."
+The saintly Brâhman, having heard with joy
+The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil
+Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
+The sages, and the gods, anointed him
+"Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng--
+The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
+Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
+To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
+Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy--
+The mighty father, who eternal bliss
+Both for his people and himself had gained,
+Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
+Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
+Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
+And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
+Great Harišchandra's equal has not been
+Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,
+His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
+For him lament, transcendant happiness
+Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
+Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,
+Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
+E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates
+The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
+Like him shall enter everlasting rest.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII., VIII.
+Translated by Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII., VIII.
+Translated by Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
+copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII. VIII
+
+Translated by: Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+
+Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7169]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 20, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MâRKANDEYA PURâNA, BOOKS VII., VIII. ***
+
+
+
+
+Originally scanned at sacred-texts.com by John B. Hare.
+This eBook was produced by Chetan Jain at BharatLiterature.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Mârkandeya Purâna
+
+
+
+Books VII and VIII.
+
+
+
+JOURNAL
+
+OF
+
+THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY.
+
+
+
+[New Series, Volume XIII]
+
+[London, Trübner and Company]
+
+[1881]
+
+
+{Scanned and edited by Christopher M. Weimer, May 2002}
+
+
+
+ART. XIII.--__Translation of the Mârka.n.deya Purâ.na.__
+Books VII. VIII.  By the Rev. B. HALE WORTHAM.
+
+
+
+BOOK VII.
+
+
+ONCE upon earth there lived a saintly king
+Named Harišchandra; pure in heart and mind,
+In virtue eminent, he ruled the world,
+Guarding mankind from evil.  While he reigned
+No famine raged, nor pain; untimely death
+Ne'er cut men off; nor were the citizens
+Of his fair city lawless.  All their wealth,
+And power, and works of righteousness, ne'er filled
+Their hearts with pride; in everlasting youth
+And loveliness the women passed their days.
+
+It so fell out, that while this mighty king
+Was hunting in the forest, that he heard
+The sound of female voices raised in cry
+Of supplication.  Then he turned and said,
+Leaving the deer to fly unheeded: "Stop!
+Who art thou, full of tyranny and hate,
+That darest thus oppress the earth; while I,
+The tamer of all evil, live and rule?"
+Then, too, the fierce Ganeša,--he who blinds
+The eyes, and foils the wills of men,--he heard
+The cry, and thus within himself he thought:
+"This surely is the great ascetic's work,
+The mighty Višvâmitra; he whose acts
+Display the fruits of penance hard and sore.
+Upon the sciences he shows his power,
+While they, in patience, discipline of mind,
+And silence perfected, cry out with fear,
+'What shall we do?  The illustrious Kaušika
+Is powerful; and we, compared with him,
+Are feeble.'  Thus they cry.  What shall I do?
+My mind is filled with doubt.  Yet stay; a thought
+Has come across me: Lo! this king who cries
+Unceasingly, 'Fear not!' meeting with him,
+And entering his heart, I will fulfil
+All my desire."  Then filled with Rudra's son--
+Inspired with rage by Vigna Raj--the king
+Spake up and said: "What evil doer is here,
+Binding the fire on his garment's hem,
+While I, his king, in power and arms renowned,
+Resplendent in my glory, pass for nought?
+Surely the never-ending sleep of death
+Shall overtake him, and his limbs shall fail,
+Smitten with darts from my far-reaching bow,
+Whose fame this lower world may scarce contain."
+Hearing the prince's words, the saint was filled
+With wrath o'erpow'ring, and the sciences
+Fell blasted in a moment at his glance.
+
+But when the king beheld the pious sage
+All-powerful, he quaked exceedingly,
+And trembled like the sacred fig-tree's leaves.
+Then Višvâmitra cried: "Stop, miscreant!"
+And Harišchandra, humbly falling down
+Before the saint, in accents low and meek:
+"O Lord! most holy! most adorable!
+Oh, blame me not!  This is no fault of mine!
+My duty calls," he said, "I must obey."
+"Is it not written in the Holy Law,
+'Alms must be given by a virtuous king;
+His people must be fought for, and be kept
+From every ill'?"  Then Višvâmitra spoke
+And said: "To whom, O king, should'st thou give alms?
+For whom in battle should'st thou fight? and whom
+Should'st thou protect?  Oh, tell me, nor delay,
+But quickly answer, if thou fearest sin."
+"Alms should be given to Brâhmans," said the king:
+"Those who are weak should be protected: foes
+In battle should be met and overcome."
+
+Then Višvâmitra spoke and said: "O king!
+If thus indeed thou rightly dost perceive
+Thy royal duty, give thine alms to me;
+I am a holy Brâhman, and I seek
+A dwelling-place; moreover I would gain
+A wife: therefore bestow on me thine alms."
+The king, his heart filled with exceeding joy,
+Felt, as it were, his youth return, and said:
+"Fear not! but tell me, son of Kaušika,
+Thy heart's desire; and be it hard to gain,
+Or be it easy, it shall still be thine.
+Say, shall I give thee gold, or wealth, or life?
+Or shall I give thee wife, or child, or land?
+Or my prosperity itself?"  "O king!"
+The sage replied, "thy present I accept;
+But let thine alms, I pray, be granted first,--
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice."
+"O Brâhman!" said the king, "the alms are thine;
+Further than this, whatever be the gift
+Thou mayest desire, freely I give it thee.
+Ask what thou wilt."  Then Višvâmitra spake:
+"Give me the earth, its mountains, seas, and towns,
+With all its kingdoms, chariots, horses, men;
+Its elephants, its treasure-houses too;
+Its treasures vast, and all whate'er beside
+Is recognized as thine: oh! give me all,
+I pray, except thyself, thy wife, thy son,
+And this thy righteousness, that follows close
+Beside thee.  Sinless one! oh thou who art
+Perfect in righteousness! oh give me all--
+All beside these.  What need of further words."
+
+The king, with heart rejoicing, and unchanged
+In countenance, hearing the sage's words,
+Said, humbly bowing down before the saint,
+"So be thy wish fulfilled."  "O saintly king,"
+Said Višvâmitra, "if the world is mine,
+And power, and wealth, I pray you who shall reign,
+Since in this kingdom as a devotee
+I dwell?"  Then Harišchandra said: "'Ere this,
+Before the world was thine by my free gift,
+Thou wast the lord of all; how much more now?
+Thy right is doubly sure."  Then said the sage:
+"If this indeed be so,--if the whole world
+Be truly mine, and all its sovereignty,
+Then should'st thou not remain, nor leave thyself
+Aught of that kingdom which thou hast renounced,
+But, casting off thy royal ornaments,
+Thou should'st depart, clothed in a dress of bark."
+The king, obedient to the sage's word,
+Stripped off his royal dress, and, with his wife
+And son, made haste to go.  Then said the saint:
+"Stop, Harišchandra!  Hast thou then forgot
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice
+That thou hast promised us?"  Replied the king:
+"O mighty saint! the kingdom now is __thine__;
+All have I given to __thee__: and as for me,
+What have I left?--nought! save myself,
+My wife, my son!"  "Thou sayest the truth, indeed,"
+Answered the sage; "but yet there still remains
+The offering for the kingly sacrifice.
+And this know well:  A vow to Brâhmans made,
+If unfulfilled, works special woe to him
+Who made the vow.  For in this sacrifice
+Must offerings of worth be freely made
+To Brâhmans;--offerings until they cry
+Hold! that suffices for us!  Therefore pay
+Thy promised vow, nor longer hesitate.
+'Alms are for Brâhmans,' thou thyself hast said,
+'Those who are weak must be protected: foes
+In battle must be met and overcome.'"
+"O saintly priest!" answered the king, "my wealth
+Is all departed: nothing now remains
+For me to give: yet grant me time I pray,
+And I will pay the offering!"  "Noble king,"
+Said Višvâmitra, "speak I pray thee!  Say
+What time dost thou appoint that I should wait?
+Speak! no delay! or else my curse of fire
+Shall burn thee up."  Then Harišchandra said:
+"Most holy Brâhman! when a month has past
+The money for the offering shall be thine.
+Now I have nothing.  Oh! be pleased to grant
+Remission for the present."  Said the sage,
+"Go! go! most noble prince! maintain thy faith!
+And may'st thou prosper! may no enemies
+Harass thy road."  Commanded thus, the king
+Departed as an outcast;--he, the king
+Of all the earth, an exile with his wife
+Unused to go afoot, and with his son
+Went forth: while cries and lamentations rose
+On every side: "Our hearts are filled with pain,
+Why dost thou leave us thus?  O virtuous king!
+Show mercy to thy subjects.  Righteousness
+Indeed shines forth in thee; if thou art full
+Of mercy, may it overflow on us.
+Stay!  Mighty Prince! one moment, while we gaze
+With lover's eyes upon thy beauteous form.
+Alas! our Prince!  Shall we ne'er see thee more?
+How changed thy princely state!  Thou, who did'st once
+Go forth, surrounded by attendant kings,
+Who marched on foot; while stately elephants
+Bore e'en thy ministers.  Now, Lord of Kings!
+Thyself art driven forth on foot.  Yet, stay!
+Think, Harišchandra! how wilt thou endure
+The dust, the heat, the toil?  Stay, mighty prince,
+Nor cast thy duty off.  Oh, show to us
+Some mercy, for herein thy duty lies.
+Behold, we cast off all for thee!  Our wives,
+Our wealth, our children, our possessions, all
+Have we relinquished; like thy shadow,
+We would follow thee.  Oh leave us not!
+For wheresoe'er thou art is happiness,
+And heaven itself would be no heaven to us
+Without our prince."  Then, overwhelmed with grief
+At these laments, the king stayed on his course,
+In pity for his loving citizens.
+Then Višvâmitra, filled with rage, his eyes
+Rolling with wrath, exclaimed: "Shame on thee! shame!
+O full of falsehood, and of wickedness.
+How! would'st thou, then, speaker of lies!
+Resume the gifts that thou hast freely made,
+And reinstate thee in thy kingdom?"  "Sir!
+I go!" replied the king to these rude words,
+And trembling crept away in haste, his wife
+Holding him by the hand.  And, as she went,
+Her fragile form o'ercome with weariness,
+The Brâhman smote her fiercely with his stick.
+Then Harišchandra, pained with inmost grief,
+Seeing the stroke, said meekly, "Sir! I go!"
+Nor further spoke.  Filled with compassion then,
+The Višvadevas said: "What sin is this?
+What torments shall indeed suffice for him
+By whom this pious king--the offerer
+Of prayer, and sacrifice, has been cast forth.
+Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
+With prayers and hymns, at the great sacrifice,
+That we may drink it with rejoicing hearts?"
+
+Then, having heard these words, the Brâhman turned
+Upon the Višvedevâs; and, in wrath
+Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:
+"You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
+And live as men."  The curse had hardly passed
+His lips, when filled with pity for their fate,
+The sage yet further added: "you shall live
+Indeed as men, but yet, there shall be born
+To you no son, nor shall you know the state
+Of marriage.  Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
+Hold sway o'er you: and when the appointed time
+Has past, you shall re-enter once again
+The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
+Which you had lost."  The Višvedevâs then
+Came down from heaven, and, clothed in human form,
+Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
+Of Pa.n.du.  Therefore those five Pâ.n.davas--
+Mighty in war--by Višvâmitra cursed,
+Knew not the state of marriage.  Thou hast heard
+The tale of Pa.n.du's sons; thy question, too,
+Of fourfold import has been answered.
+I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII.
+
+
+Said Jaimîni: An answer ye have found
+To all my questions; and indeed have filled
+Me full of deepest interest.  Oh! I long
+To hear yet more!  Alas! that saintly king!
+What grief he suffered!  Did he e'er attain
+To any comfort answering to his woe?
+Noblest of Birds!  Oh tell me this, I pray.
+
+The Holy Birds continued:  Then the king,
+O'ercome with grief and pain, hearing the words
+Of Višvâmitra, with his wife and son
+Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
+At length the holy place appeared in view--
+The shrine of Å iva; thus within himself,
+He said: "Benares, sacred to the god,
+Lies now before me; there shall I find rest,
+For there man has no power."  The king approached
+The gates on foot: lo! at the entry stood
+The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  Mighty Saint!
+The king, his hands in supplication joined,
+With humble reverence, said:  "Here is my life,
+My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
+Accept, I pray, the offering! or choose
+Whatever else thou wouldest!"  But the sage
+Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
+Give me the present for the sacrifice--
+The offering thou hast promised."  "One half-day
+As yet remains before the month be past,
+Oh Brâhman of surpassing piety,
+And penances unfading.  Wait, I pray,
+A few short hours."  Then Višvâmitra said:
+"So be it, king! once more I will return,
+But if the offering be not duly paid,
+Before the sinking of this evening's sun,
+My curse shall smite thee."  And the priest
+Departed, while the king, in anxious thought,
+Debated thus: "How shall I make the gift?
+The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
+I may not beg for alms; how can I then
+Fulfil my vow?  Nor even in the world
+Beyond shall I find rest.  Destruction waits,
+If with my promise unfulfilled, I pass
+From hence.  A robber of the holy saints;
+I shall become the lowest of the low.
+Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a slave,
+Redeem my promise."  Then the queen, in tears
+Bewildered, and afflicted, lost in thought,
+With face cast down, "Maintain thy truth," she said,
+"Most mighty prince!  Oh! let not doubt prevail!
+The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
+Like contact with the dead.  The highest law
+Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
+Must be maintained.  Burnt sacrifices, alms,
+The study of the scriptures, penances,
+Are counted not for righteousness to him
+Whose word is faithless.  Listen! noble prince!
+Is it not written in the sacred law:
+'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
+While lies and falsehood are destruction's way
+To men of low and evil minds.'  There lived,
+'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
+The kingly sacrifice--burnt offerings too,
+Were offered in abundance.  That same king
+Fell once from truthfulness, and by that fall,
+He lost his righteousness, and forfeited
+His place in heaven.  Prince! I have borne a son"--
+Her utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
+But sighs and lamentations.  Then the king,
+With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy son!
+He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
+Tell me what presses on thee."  Said the queen,
+"Prince, I have borne a son; and sons are born
+To none but worthy women.  This my son
+Shall take me--he shall offer me for sale--
+Then with the money gained, pay thou the priest
+The promised offering."  Hearing these words,
+He fell down fainting.  When his sense returned,
+Filled with exceeding pain, the king burst forth,
+Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!
+Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
+Be carried out in deed.  Alas! alas!"--
+His spirit fled again, and to the earth
+He fell unconscious.  Overcome with grief,
+The queen exclaimed, filled with compassion: "King!
+How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
+The ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
+A gorgeous couch received.  Lo! this my lord,
+By whom wealth, honour, power, are freely given
+An offering to the Brâhman--see, he lies
+Insensate on the ground.  Ye gods of heaven!
+Tell me, I pray you, has this noble king,
+Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
+Against you, that he lies thus overcome
+With woe?"  Then fell the queen, bereft of sense
+Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with grief and pain,
+Seeing her husband's misery.  When the boy
+Beheld his parents lying on the ground,
+He cried in terror: "Father! give me food!
+Mother! my tongue is parched with thirst!"  Meanwhile
+Upon the scene the mighty Brâhman came;
+And when he saw the king lie senseless, "King!"--
+Sprinkling cold water on his face--he said,
+"Rise up! rise up! Pay me the promised vow;
+For this thy misery from day to day
+Increases, and will yet increase, until
+The debt be paid."  The water's cooling touch
+Refreshed the king; his consciousness returned;
+But when he saw the Brâhman, faintness seized
+His limbs again.  Then overpowering rage
+Seized Višvâmitra; but before he left,
+The best of Brâhmans said: "If what is just,
+Or right, or true, enters thy mind, O king!
+Give me the present.  Lo! by truth divine
+The sun sends forth his vivifying rays
+Upon the earth.  By truth this mighty world
+Stands firm and steadfast.  Truth all law excels.
+By truth the very heaven itself exists.
+Wert thou to weigh the truth, and in the scale
+Opposing, wert to place burnt-offerings,
+And sacrifices countless, still the truth
+Would far outweigh them all.  Why need I waste
+My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
+An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
+Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
+With thee.  Yet hear me;--if the offering
+Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
+Behind the western mountain to his rest,
+My curse shall smite thee."  Speaking words like these
+The Brâhman left him; and the king, o'ercome
+With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
+Degraded to unfathomable depths--
+The victim of his evil creditor--
+Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
+"O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
+Dissolve thy being!"  Urged repeatedly,
+The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
+What the most wicked man could hardly do,
+That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
+Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
+And going with his wife into the town--
+Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
+"Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
+A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
+I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
+I live!  Here is a female slave!  Who buys?
+Make haste and speak."  "The female slave is mine!"
+(So spake an ancient Brâhman to the king.)
+"Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
+You well for her.  My wife is delicate;
+Her household duties are beyond her strength;
+I want a slave, and therefore I will give
+A price proportioned to the woman's skill
+And temper; nor will I o'erlook her youth
+And beauty.  What you think is fair and right,
+That will I pay."  Struck dumb with grief, the king
+Stood mute, nor answered aught.  And then the priest,
+Tying the price in the king's garment-hem--
+His bark-cloth garment--roughly grasped the queen,
+And dragged her off.  But when the loving child
+Beheld his mother led away, he seized
+Her by her garment.  And the queen exclaimed:
+"If only for a moment, noble sir!
+Oh! let me go! that I may gaze once more
+Upon my child, whom I shall never see,
+And never touch again!  My child, behold
+Thy mother, now a slave! And thou--a prince!
+Oh, touch me not!  My lot of servitude
+Forbids that thou should'st touch me."  But the child,
+His eyes bedewed with tears, ran after her,
+Calling her "Mother!"  As the boy came near,
+The Brâhman spurned him with his foot; but he
+Still following close would not be torn from her,
+Calling her "Mother!"  "Oh, my lord!  I pray,
+Be gracious to me!" said the queen.  "Oh, buy
+My son with me; divide us not!  For I
+Without him shall be nought of use to you.
+Be gracious, O my lord!"  Then said the priest:
+"Here! take the money! give the boy to me!
+The saints, who know the scriptures, have ordained
+The right and lawful sum.  Take it!"  He tied
+The money in the king's bark dress, and led
+Them both away--the mother and the child--
+Together bound.  But when the king beheld
+Himself bereft of both his wife and son,
+He burst forth: "Ah! my wife! whom neither sun,
+Nor moon, nor air have ever seen I who hast
+Been kept from vulgar gaze!  Alas I a slave
+Hast thou become!  Alas! thou, too, my son!--
+A scion of the noble dynasty,
+Sprung from the sun! disgrace has seized on thee,
+And--shame upon me!--thou too art a slave!
+Ye have become a sacrifice; ye, through my fault,
+Have fallen.  Would that I were dead!"  Thus spoke
+The king.  Meanwhile the Brâhman hastily
+Entered the grove wherein his dwelling stood,
+And vanished with his slaves.  Then met the king
+The Brâhman Višvâmitra.  "Prince!" he said,
+Pay me the offering!"  Harišchandra gave
+The money gainèd by the shameful sale
+Of wife and child.  And when the priest beheld
+The money, overcome with wrath, he said:
+"How canst thou mock me with this paltry sum!
+Base Kshatriya!  And thinkest thou that this
+Suffices for a sacrificial gift
+Such as I would accept?  But if thy mind
+Thus far misleads thee, thou shalt feel my power--
+Power transcendant, gained by penances,
+And scripture meditation.  Yes! the power
+Of my pure Brâhmanhood shall show itself
+On thee."  "More will I give thee," said the king,
+"But wait, most noble saint!  Nought have I left!
+Even my wife and child are sold."  Replied
+The Brâhman: "Hold! be silent!  Further time
+Than the remaining fourth part of to-day
+I grant thee not."  Enraged, he turned away,
+Departing with the money.  And the king,
+Immersed in grief and fear, with face cast down,
+Cried out: "If there be any one of you
+Who wants a slave, let him make haste and speak
+While day remains."  Then Dharma, putting on
+The form of a Cha.n.dâla, hastily
+Came forward, taking pity on the king.
+His countenance was fearful,--black, with tusks
+Projecting; savage in his words; his smell
+Was foul and horrible; a crowd of dogs
+Came after him.  "Tell me thy price," he said;
+"Be quick; and whether it be large or small
+I care not, so I have thee as my slave:"
+The king, beholding such a loathsome form,
+Of mien revolting--"What art thou?" he said.
+"Men call me a Cha.n.dâla," he replied.
+I dwell in this same city--in a part
+Of evil fame.  As of a murderer
+Condemned to death, such is my infamy.
+My calling is a robber of the dead."
+"I will not be a slave," exclaimed the king,
+"To thee, a base Cha.n.dâla.  Better far
+That I should perish by the fiery curse."
+The words were scarcely uttered, when the saint
+Returned, his countenance with rage
+Distorted; and he thus addressed the king:
+"The sum is fair; why dost thou not accept
+The offer?  Then indeed thou mightest pay
+The gift thou owest for the sacrifice."
+"O son of Kušika!" replied the king,
+"Consider this, I pray!--my noble race!
+Truly am I descended from the sun!
+How can I then become, though sore in want,
+Lowest of creatures--a Cha.n.dâla's slave?"
+"Delay no more," the Brâhman said, "but pay
+The gift at once, and sell thyself a slave
+To the Cha.n.dâla--or assuredly
+I curse thee."  "Saintly priest, be merciful!"
+The king entreated; and, immersed in care,
+He seized the Brâhman's feet, exclaiming thus:
+"What am I but a slave, o'erwhelmed with grief!
+Fear holds me!  Saintly priest, be merciful!
+Protect me, mighty saint!  Save me, I pray,
+From this most horrible Cha.n.dâla.  Sir!
+Most noble saint! hereafter shall thy will
+Be all the object of my life!  To serve
+Thy lightest wish shall be my highest joy!
+Thus will I make the offering--I will be
+Thy __slave__!" Replied the Brahman: "If thou art
+My slave, then will I sell thee as a slave
+To the Cha.n.dâla."  Then, filled with delight,
+Paying the money, the Švapâka bound
+His lately-purchased slave, and striking him,
+Led hill away.  Parted from all his friends;
+In utmost grief; in the Cha.n.dâla's house
+Abiding--morning, noon, and eventide,
+And night, the king thus made lament:
+"Alas! my tender wife, overwhelmed with pain,
+Looking upon her son in misery,
+Bewails her lot.  But yet she says: 'The king
+Will surely ransom us, for he has gained
+By now more money than the Brâhman paid
+For us;' and all the time she little knows
+My fate--worse than her own.  For I have passed
+From woe to woe--kingdom and friends--my wife,
+My son, have passed from me, and now the state
+Of a Cha.n.dâla holds me."  While he dwelt
+A slave in the Cha.n.dâla's house, the forms
+Of those he loved were still before his eyes--
+Were ever in his mind.  Meanwhile the king,
+Obedient to his master's will, became
+A robber of the dead; and night and day
+He watched for plunder.  "One part of the spoil
+Is for the king, three for thy master, two
+For thee.  Go to the city's southern part,
+Where is the dwelling of the dead, there wait."
+Obeying the Cha.n.dâla, to the place
+Of burial he went;--an awful place,
+Filled full of fearful sounds and loathsome sights--
+Of evil smells, and smoke, and locks of hair
+Fallen from the dead; while troops of fiends and ghouls,
+Vampires and demons, wandered to and fro.
+Vultures and jackals prowled, and spirit forms'
+Of evil hovered o'er.  The ground was strewn
+With heaps of bones; and wailing, sharp and shrill,
+Re-echoed from the mourners of the dead.
+The bodies on the funeral piles, half burnt,
+Crackled and hissed; showing their shining teeth,
+They grinned, as if in sport; while all the time
+The howl of demons and the wail of fiends
+Were mingled with the roar of flames--a sound
+Of fearful import, such as ushers in
+The day of doom.  The sights, and sounds, and smells--
+The heaps of ashes, and the piles of bones,
+Blackened with filth--the smoke, the shouts,
+The yells--struck fear on fear into the heart.
+The burial-place resembled nought but hell.
+Such was the place appointed for the king.
+"Priests! Brâhmans! Counsellors! how have I fallen
+From all my royal state!  Alas! my queen!
+Alas! my son!  Oh! miserable fate!
+We have been torn asunder by the power
+Of Višvâmitra."  Thoughts like these possessed
+His inmost mind; while foul, unshorn, unwashed,
+He served his master.  Running here and there,
+Armed with a jagged club, he sought the dead,
+From whom he gained his wages.  So he lived,
+Degraded from his caste.  Old knotted rags
+Served as his dress; his face and arms and feet
+With dust and ashes from the funeral piles
+Begrimed; his hands defiled with putrid flesh
+From contact with the bodies of the dead.
+So neither day nor night he ceased from toil.
+And twelve months passed--twelve weary months, which seemed
+To his grief-stricken mind a hundred years;
+And then at last, worn out, the best of kings
+Lay down to rest; and as upon his couch
+All motionless in sleep he lay, he saw
+A wondrous vision.  By the power divine
+He seemed to wear another form,--a form
+Both new and strange,--and in that form to pay
+The vow.  Twelve years of expiation passed
+With difficulty.  Then within himself
+King Harišchandra thought: "So too will I,
+When I am freed from hence, perform my vows
+With generous freedom."  Forthwith he was born
+As a Pukkasa; while a place was found
+For him among the dead, and funeral rites
+Were ordered as his task.  Thus seven years
+Were passed; then to the burying-place was brought
+A Brâhman seeking sepulture: in life
+He had been poor, but honest; and the king,
+Though he knew this--the dead man's poverty
+And his uprightness--pressed his friends to pay
+The funeral dues.  "Enforce thy right," they said,
+"And do this evil deed; yet know thou this:
+Once upon earth there was a mighty king
+Named Harišchandra; though he but disturbed
+A Brâhman's sleep, through that offence he lost
+His merit, and by Višvâmitra's curse
+Became a base Pukkasa."  "Yet the king
+Spared not the dead man's friends, but still required
+His fee.  Therefore they cursed him in their rage--
+"Go!--go!--thou most degraded of mankind--
+Go to the lowest hell!"  Then in his dream
+The king beheld the messengers of death.
+Fearful to look at, armed with heavy chains,
+They seized him, and they bound him hand and foot,
+And bore him off.  And then, in fear and pain,
+Headlong he fell into the bath of oil
+In Nâraka.  There, torn with instruments
+Sharp-edged as razors, fed on putrid blood,
+He saw himself.  For seven years in hell--
+Now burnt from day to day, now tossed and torn,
+Now cut by knives, and now by icy winds
+Frozen and numbed--a dead Pukkasa's fate
+He underwent.  Each day in Nâraka,
+A hundred years of mortal reckoning--
+So count the demons who inhabit hell.
+Then he beheld himself cast up to earth,
+His spirit entering a filthy dog;
+Feeding on things all foul and horrible--
+Consumed by cold.  A month thus passed away.
+His spirit changed its dwelling, and he saw
+Himself an ass; and after that an ox,
+A cow, a goat, a sheep, a bird, a worm.
+So day by day he saw his spirit change
+Its outward shape.  A multitude of forms--
+Some moving, others rooted to the ground--
+Received his soul.  And when the hundred years
+Were passed and gone, he saw himself again
+Re-occupy his pristine human form--
+Once more a king.  And then he seemed to lose
+His kingdom, casting it away in games
+Of chance.  Turned from his home a wanderer
+Into the forest with his wife and child:
+Devoured by a ravening beast, but raised
+To life again on earth, he sore bewailed
+His wife: "Alas! why hast thou left me thus?
+Alas!  O Saivya! where hast thou gone?"
+Then in his dream he seemed to see his wife
+And son lamenting: "What hast thou to do
+With gambling?  Oh protect us, mighty king!"
+The vision faded, and he saw no more
+The cherished forms.  And then the dream returned
+By power divine.  And Harišchandra stood
+In heaven, and he beheld his wife on earth,
+With flowing hair, dragged forcibly along--
+Stripped of her clothes: the cry came to his ear,
+"Protect us, king of men!"  Then, snatched away,
+The demons hurried him before the judge;
+And Harišchandra seemed to hear the words:
+"Go forth! return once more to earth!  Thy grief
+Is well nigh past and ended; joy ere long
+Shall come to thee.  The sorrows that remain
+Endure."  The king, then driven from the sky
+By Yama's messengers, falling through space--
+Senseless in fear and terror, filled with pain
+Yet more exceeding--thought within himself,
+"How shall I suffer all these torments sore!--
+The changes manifold of form--the pain
+In Nâraka."  Then Harišchandra sought
+Aid from the gods: "O mighty lords," he said,
+"Protect me!  O protect my wife and child!
+O mighty Dharma, thee I worship!  Thee,
+O Krish.na, the Creator!  Faultless ones,
+Both far and near, before you now I come,
+A suppliant.  On thee, O lord of prayer,
+I call! on thee, O Indra too! to thee
+O ancient one! I pray--immutable!"
+The vision fled, the king arose from sleep.
+His tangled hair, his body black and grimed,
+Recalled to him his state--the plunderer
+Of dead men's clothes.  His recollection gone,
+He thought not of his sorrowing wife and child,
+For reason failed.  The loss of kingdom, wealth,
+And friends, his dwelling-place among the tombs,
+Had overthrown his senses, and destroyed
+His mind.  Then to the burying-place the queen
+Came, bearing the dead body of her son--
+Pale and distracted.  "My beloved son!
+My child!" she kept exclaiming, while she threw
+Dust on her head.  "Alas! alas! O king!
+O that thou could'st behold thy child," she said--
+"Thy child now lying dead upon the earth,
+Killed by a serpent's bite.  Alas! my son!
+So lovely! so delightful!" Then the king,
+Rearing the sounds of mourning, went in haste
+To rob the dead: nor did he recognize
+His wife, in that sad mourner, changed by grief
+As if into another.  And the queen
+Knew not the form that stood before her, clothed
+In rags, with matted hair, withered and foul.
+Then recollection dawned upon the king,
+Seeing the dead child's princely form, the thought
+Of his own son came o'er him.  "Ah! my child!
+What evil chance," he said, "has brought thee here!
+A child of princely race thou seemest.  He, my son,
+Long lost to me through my accursed fate,
+Would have been even such as thou in age."
+Then raised the queen her voice, and thus she spoke:
+"Alas! has some unexpiated crime
+Brought upon us, my child! this endless woe.
+My absent lord! since thou did'st not console
+My grief in times gone by, how can the pain
+I suffer now assuage?  Did'st thou not lose
+Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends?
+Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?"  The king
+Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail
+Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again
+His wife and son--and saying but the words,
+"Ah! Saivya!  Ah! my beloved child!"
+He fainting fell to earth.  Then, too, the queen,
+Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief,
+Insensate fell.  Returning consciousness
+Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight
+And mutual lamentations.  "Ah! my son!"
+Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn,
+When I behold thy form so delicate:
+My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love,
+Words of affection I will speak, that rise
+Unbidden to my lips.  Alas! thy limbs
+Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust
+That clings about my garments will pollute
+Thy lovely form!  Alas! my child, thou had'st
+An evil father!  He who should have kept
+All dangers from thee, he it was who sold
+Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind
+First of all things I love thee.  Ah! my child!
+Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this
+By lawful right was thine inheritance,
+And now thou liest slain!  Ah me! the tears
+Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form,
+In grace and beauty like the lotus flower,
+Fades from my sight."  He spoke, and faltering
+With grief embraced his son.  The queen exclaimed:
+"This is indeed my lord--I know his voice!
+I know his form! this is the mighty king.
+The wisest of all beings.  But how changed!
+What fate is this?  Ah what a dreadful place
+For him, the lord of men.  This grief yet more
+Is added to the mourning for my son--
+My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves
+A base Cha.n.dâla.  Curséd be that god,
+Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king
+Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot
+Of a Švapâka.  Ah! most noble prince,
+My mind is filled with grief, when I recall
+Thy regal state, thy past magnificence.
+No kingly ensigns go before thee now,
+No captive kings, brought down to slavery,
+Humbly precede thee, casting in the way
+Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet.
+But now!  O king! alas, thyself a slave,
+Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed
+With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair
+Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes
+Thy livelihood.  Ah! king! and is thy life
+Spent in this awful wise?"  So spake the queen,
+And falling on his neck, embraced her lord:
+While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed
+Her sorrows endless.  "King! I pray thee speak!
+Is this a dream?  If it be real and true,
+Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled
+And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind,
+Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods
+Or priests!  'Tis vain to follow innocence
+If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind,
+Art brought to such a depth of infamy."
+Then spoke the king, and told his sorrowing wife
+How he had fallen to this wretched state,--
+The state of a Cha.n.dâla.  She, in turn,
+Weeping, with many sighs, poured out her tale,
+Telling him how the serpent's bite had killed
+Their child.  "Beloved one! I suffer not
+These evils," said the king, "by mine own will--
+Thou seest what I endure; my evil fate
+Depends not on myself.  I am a slave,
+And if I fly from the Cha.n.dâla's bonds,
+The fiery torment in the depths of hell
+Will overtake me, and I shall become
+A slave again.  My doom is fixed! lo! hell
+Is my abode hereafter; and in forms,
+Creeping and loathsome, shall my soul abide.
+Yet from this miserable life on earth
+There is one only refuge.  He! my son!
+My hope! my stay! is dead; drowned by the sea
+Of my misfortunes.  But I am a slave!
+I am dependent on another's will!
+Can I give up my wife?  Yes! even so!
+For know thou this: one who is steeped in woe
+Cares not for evil chances; not the state
+Of the most loathsome beast, nor yet the wood
+Of sword-leaved plants, nor even hell's dread stream,
+Could add the smallest fraction to the pain
+I have already borne.  My son is dead!
+Who then will make atonement for my sins?
+Yet listen to my words, beloved one,
+If I have offered sacrifice, and paid
+Due reverence to the saints; if I have given
+Alms to the needy--may we meet again
+Hereafter, in the world to come, and find
+The refuge for our woes denied us here.
+Let us together follow in the path
+By which our son has gone.  Our hopeless fate
+Can never alter here.  Whatever words
+I may have uttered, thoughtlessly, in jest,
+These, when I pray for pardon, shall receive
+Fullest forgiveness.  Thou must not despise
+Thy lord: nor pride thee on thy queenly state
+Now passed and gone."  The prince's wife replied:
+"I am prepared to tread that path with thee,
+O king, most saintly! and with thee that world
+To enter."  While she spoke these words, the king
+Made up the funeral pile, and placed thereon
+His son, himself ascending with his wife.
+And then, in meditation wrapt, he thought
+Upon Nârâyana, the lord supreme,
+And Vâsudeva, lord of deities,
+Šiva, and Brâhma the eternal god,
+And Krish.na clothed in glory.  As the king
+Was meditating, all the gods from heaven
+Came down headed by Dharma.  And they said:
+"Hear us, O king! hear us, O lord! The gods--
+Even the mighty gods have come to earth,
+And at their head is Dharma.  Gods, and saints,
+And heroes--yea, and Višvâmitra too,
+The sage implacable,--all summon thee--
+Ascend! to heaven: receive the due reward,
+That thou hast gained.  O king! slay not thyself!
+I, perfect Righteousness, I summon thee
+To enter now the heaven that thou hast gained
+By thy transcendant virtues, self-control,
+Patience, and truth." Then Indra spoke, and said:--
+"O Harišchandra! King, most eminent!
+In virtue! lo! before you Indra stands--
+For I am he.  The everlasting world
+Thou hast attained: together with thy wife,
+And son, ascend to heaven;--to that third heav'n--
+So difficult to be attained by men--
+The heav'n that thou hast won."  Then Indra rained
+Life-giving am.rit from the sky, and flowers
+That blossomed in the heavenly courts: while sounds
+Of music filled the air, and round him stood
+The gods, a vast assembly.  Then the son
+Of Harišchandra rose, restored to life,
+And health, his mind and senses whole, his form
+More beautiful than ever: and the king
+Embraced his wife and son, with perfect joy
+Filled to o'erflowing, crowned with heavenly wreaths.
+Then Indra said: "Thou, with thy wife, and son,
+Shalt dwell in bliss supreme: bliss that thyself
+Hast purchased, by thy virtues and thy toils."
+Then spoke the king: "Hear me! most holy gods!
+Unbidden by my master, will I not
+To heaven itself ascend."  Then Dharma spoke:
+"I am thy master.  I assumed the form
+Of a Cha.n.dâla.  All thy pain and woe
+Was brought upon thee by my magic power,
+And thou wast made a slave!  I have beheld
+Thy truth, and thy uprightness.  Saintly king!
+The highest place that heaven accords to men,
+Whose virtue has been tried and proved:--to that
+Ascend!"  But Harišchandra answering, said:
+"Receive, most mighty lord! my words of praise
+And thanksgiving.  I offer them to thee
+Full of affection.  Lo! my people stand
+With grieving hearts, longing for my return.
+Can I ascend to heav'n while they on earth
+Lament for me?  If they have ever slain,
+Brâhmans, or teachers of the holy law,--
+If lust or avarice have ruled their hearts,--
+Then may my labours and my toils atone,
+For these their sins.  I may not leave my friends.
+For neither here, nor in the world to come,
+Can there be peace to one who casts aside
+The friend whose love is pure and true--the friend
+Who serves him from the heart.  Return!
+Return! to heaven!  O Indra! If thou grant
+My friends to rise with me, to heav'n will I
+Ascend; if not, with them will I descend
+To Nâraka."  "O king! thy prayer is heard!
+Thy people's sins are pardoned: even for them,
+Hard though it be, thy toils and pains have gained
+A place in heaven."  Thus mighty Indra spoke.
+Replied the king: "Indra! I will not leave
+My kinsmen.  By his kinsmen's help a king
+His kingdom rules; by them he offers up
+The kingly sacrifice, and for himself
+Lays up a store of meritorious deeds.
+So have my kinsmen too enabled me
+To work whate'er I may of righteousness.
+My actions virtuous, my granted prayers,
+Truly I owe to them, for by their aid
+Have these been possible.  May the reward
+Thou grantest me, I pray, be shared with them.
+My kinsmen, though I should ascend to heaven,
+I will not leave."  "So be it!" Indra said;
+"So be it!" said the Brâhman; Dharma, too,
+Gave his assent; and then, in countless hosts,
+Appeared the heavenly chariots.  Indra said:
+"Men of Ayodhya, ascend to heaven."
+The saintly Brâhman, having heard with joy
+The words of Indra, poured the sacred oil
+Upon the prince, and with the perfect ones,
+The sages, and the gods, anointed him
+"Son of the mighty king."  Then all the throng--
+The king, his wife, his son, his followers--
+Filled with rejoicing and delight, ascend
+To heaven, surrounding, as they go, the king
+Borne in his chariot.  He, too, filled with joy--
+The mighty father, who eternal bliss
+Both for his people and himself had gained,
+Once more in form and mien a king--reposed,
+Resting from all his toils, his faithful friends
+Surrounding him with a protecting wall.
+And Indra spoke and said: "Upon this earth
+Great Harišchandra's equal has not been
+Nor shall be.  Whosoe'er may hear his life,
+His toils, his sorrows, and in sympathy
+For him lament, transcendant happiness
+Shall he attain, and all his heart's desire
+Shall be accomplished.  Is his prayer a wife,
+Or son, or kingdom, he shall gain them all,
+E'en heaven itself.  And he who imitates
+The truth, and steadfastness, of that great king,
+Like him shall enter everlasting rest.
+
+
+
+Mârkandeya Purâna
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mârkandeya Purâna, Books VII., VIII.
+Translated by Rev. B. Hale Wortham
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MâRKANDEYA PURâNA, BOOKS VII., VIII. ***
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