Joyful he rose, and when the rising sun Had filled the earth's dark places full of light, With all his worldly wealth, his staff and bowl, Obedient to that voice he left his cave; When from a shepherd's cottage near his way, Whence he had often heard the busy hum Of industry, and childhood's merry laugh, There came the angry, stern command of one Clothed in a little brief authority, Mingled with earnest pleadings, and the wail Of women's voices, and above them all The plaintive treble of a little child. Thither he turned, and when he reached the spot, The cause of all this sorrow was revealed: One from the king had seized their little all, Their goats and sheep, and e'en the child's pet lamb. But when they saw him they had often watched With reverent awe, as if come down from heaven, Prostrate they fell, and kissed his garment's hem, While he so insolent, now stood abashed, And, self accused, he thus excused himself: "The Brahmans make this day a sacrifice, And they demand unblemished goats and lambs. I but obey the king's express command To bring them to the temple ere high noon." But Buddha stooped and raised the little child, Who nestled in his arms in perfect trust, And gently said: "Rise up, my friends, weep not! The king must be obeyed--but kings have hearts. I go along to be your advocate. The king may spare what zealous priest would kill, Thinking the gods above delight in blood." But when the officers would drive the flock With staves and slings and loud and angry cries, They only scattered them among the rocks, And Buddha bade the shepherd call his own, As love can lead where force in vain would drive. He called; they knew his voice and followed him, Dumb innocents, down to the slaughter led, While Buddha kissed the child, and followed them, With those so late made insolent by power, Now dumb as if led out to punishment.