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diff --git a/7169-8.txt b/7169-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6311c97 --- /dev/null +++ b/7169-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1361 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MÂRKANDEYA PURÂNA, BOOKS VII. 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