When harsh and bitter words leaped to his lips, And checked those cruel acts of sudden wrath That stain the annals of the greatest kings, Until the people to each other said: "How mild and gentle our good king has grown!" And when he heard this prince had now returned, In flower-embroidered purple robes arrayed, With all the pomp and circumstance of state, Followed by those who ever wait on power, He issued forth and climbed the rugged hill Until he reached the cave where Buddha sat, Calm and majestic as the rounded moon That moves serene along its heavenly path. Greeting each other with such royal grace As fits a prince greeting a brother prince, The king inquired why he had left his home? Why he, a Chakravartin's only son, Had left his palace for a lonely cave, Wore coarsest cloth instead of royal robes, And for a scepter bore a begging-bowl? "Youth," said the king, "with full and bounding pulse, Youth is the time for boon companionship, The time for pleasure, when all pleasures please; Manhood, the time for gaining wealth and power; But as the years creep on, the step infirm, The arm grown feeble and the hair turned gray, 'Tis time to mortify the five desires, To give religion what of life is left, And look to heaven when earth begins to pall. I would not use my power to hold you here, But offer half my kingdom for your aid To govern well and use my power aright." The prince with gentle earnestness replied: "O king, illustrious and world-renowned! Your noble offer through all coming time Shall be remembered. Men will praise an act By likening it to Bimbasara's gift. You offer me the half of your domain. I in return beseech you share with me Better than wealth, better than kingly power, The peace and joy that follows lusts subdued. Wait not on age--for age brings feebleness-- But this great battle needs our utmost strength. If you will come, then welcome to our cave; If not, may wisdom all your actions guide. Ruling your empire in all righteousness, Preserve your country and protect her sons. Sadly I leave you, great and gracious king, But my work calls--a world that waits for light. In yonder sacred grove three brothers dwell-- Kasyapa, Gada, Nadi, they are called; Three chosen vessels for the perfect law, Three chosen lamps to light a groping world, Who worship now the gross material fire Which burns and wastes but fails to purify. I go to tell them of Nirvana's Sun, Perennial source of that undying flame, The fire of love, consuming lust and hate As forest fires devour the crackling thorns, Until the soul is purified from sin, And sorrow, birth and death are left behind."