And now five strangers from the Tartar steppes, Strangers in form and features, language, dress, Guided by one as strange in dress as they, Weary and foot-sore, passed within the gates Of Rajagriha, while the rising sun Was still concealed behind the vulture-peak, A laughing-stock to all the idle crowd, Whom noisy children followed through the streets As thoughtless children follow what is strange, Until they met the master asking alms, Who with raised hand and gentle, mild rebuke Hushed into silence all their noisy mirth. "These are our brothers," Buddha mildly said. "Weary and worn they come from distant lands, And ask for kindness--not for mirth and jeers." They knew at once that calm, majestic face, That voice as sweet as Brahma's, and those eyes Beaming with tender, all-embracing love, Of which, while seated round their argol fires In their black tents, brave Purna loved to tell, And bowed in worship at the master's feet. He bade them rise, and learned from whence they came, And led them joyful to the bamboo-grove, Where some brought water from the nearest stream To bathe their festered feet and weary limbs, While some brought food and others yellow robes-- Fitter for India's heat than skins and furs-- All welcoming their new-found friends who came From distant lands, o'er desert wastes and snows, To see the master, hear the perfect law, And bring the message noble Purna sent. The months pass on; the monsoons cease to blow, The thunders cease to roll, the rains to pour; The earth, refreshed, is clothed with living green, And flowers burst forth where all was parched and bare, And busy toil succeeds long days of rest. The time for mission work has come. The brethren, now to many hundreds grown, Where'er the master thought it best were sent. The strongest and the bravest volunteered To answer Purna's earnest call for help, And clothed in fitting robes for piercing cold They scale the mountains, pass the desert wastes, Their guide familiar with their terrors grown; While some return to their expectant flocks, And some are sent to kindred lately left, And some to strangers dwelling near or far-- All bearing messages of peace and love-- Until but few in yellow robes remain, And single footfalls echo through that hall Where large assemblies heard the master's words. A few are left, not yet confirmed in faith; And those five brothers from the distant north Remain to learn the sacred tongue and lore, While Saraputra and Kasyapa stay To aid the master in his special work.