One day in this sad mood he thought to see His people as they are in daily life, And not in holiday attire to meet their prince. In merchant's dress, his charioteer his clerk, The prince and Channa passed unknown, and saw The crowded streets alive with busy hum, Traders cross-legged, with their varied wares, The wordy war to cheapen or enhance, One rushing on to clear the streets for wains With huge stone wheels, by slow strong oxen drawn; Palanquin-bearers droning out "Hu, hu, ho, ho," While keeping step and praising him they bear; The housewives from the fountain water bring In balanced water-jars, their black-eyed babes Athwart their hips, their busy tongues meanwhile Engaged in gossip of the little things That make the daily round of life to them; The skillful weaver at his clumsy loom; The miller at his millstones grinding meal; The armorer, linking his shirts of mail; The money-changer at his heartless trade; The gaping, eager crowd gathered to watch Snake-charmers, that can make their deadly charge Dance harmless to the drone of beaded gourds; Sword-players, keeping many knives in air; Jugglers, and those that dance on ropes swung high: And all this varied work and busy idleness As in a panorama passing by. While they were passing through these varied scenes, The prince, whose ears were tuned to life's sad notes, Whose eyes were quick to catch its deepest shades, Found sorrow, pain and want, disease and death, Were woven in its very warp and woof. A tiger, springing from a sheltering bush, Had snatched a merchant's comrade from his side; A deadly cobra, hidden by the path, Had stung to death a widow's only son; A breath of jungle-wind a youth's blood chilled, Or filled a strong man's bones with piercing pain; A household widowed by a careless step; The quick cross-lightning from an angry cloud Struck down a bridegroom bringing home his bride-- All this and more he heard, and much he saw: A young man, stricken in life's early prime, Shuffled along, dragging one palsied limb, While one limp arm hung useless by his side; A dwarf sold little knickknacks by the way, His body scarcely in the human form, To which long arms and legs seemed loosely hung, His noble head thrust forward on his breast, Whose pale, sad face as plainly told as words That life had neither health nor hope for him; An old man tottering from a hovel came, Frail, haggard, palsied, leaning on a staff, Whose eyes, dull, glazed and meaningless, proclaim The body lingers when the mind has fled; One seized with sudden hot distemper of the blood, Writhing with anguish, by the wayside sunk. The purple plague-spot on his pallid cheek, Cold drops of perspiration on his brow, With wildly rolling eyes and livid lips, Gasping for breath and feebly asking help-- But ere the prince could aid, death gave relief.