Then answer made Tripusha: "We have seen That sacred Master, Princess! we have bowed Before his feet; for who was lost a Prince Is found a greater than the King of kings. Under the Bodhi-tree by Phalgu's bank That which shall save the world hath late been wrought By him--the Friend of all, the Prince of all-- Thine most, High Lady! from whose tears men win The comfort of this Word the Master speaks. Lo! he is well, as one beyond all ills, Uplifted as a god from earthly woes, Shining with risen Truth, golden and clear. Moreover as he entereth town by town, Preaching those noble ways which lead to peace, The hearts of men follow his path as leaves Troop to wind or sheep draw after one Who knows the pastures. We ourselves have heard By Gaya in the green Tchirnika grove Those wondrous lips and done them reverence. He cometh hither ere the first rains fall." Thus spake he, and Yasodhara, for joy, Scarce mastered breath to answer: "Be it well Now and at all times with ye, worthy friends, Who bring good tidings; but of this great thing Wist ye how it befell?" Then Bhalluk told Such as the people of the valleys knew Of that dread night of conflict, when the air Darkened with fiendish shadows, and the earth Quaked, and the waters swelled with Mara's wrath. Also how gloriously that morning broke Radiant with rising hopes for man, and how The Lord was found rejoicing 'neath his Tree. But many days the burden of release-- To be escaped beyond all storms of doubt, Safe on Truth's shore--lay, spake he, on that heart A golden load; for how shall men--Buddh mused-- Who love their sins and cleave to cheats of sense, And drink of error from a thousand springs-- Having no mind to see, nor strength to break The fleshly snare which binds them--how should such Receive the Twelve Nidanas and the Law Redeeming all, yet strange to profit by, As the caged bird oft shuns its open door? So had we missed the helpful victory If, in this earth without a refuge, Buddh Winning the way had deemed it all too hard For mortal feet, and passed, none following him. Yet pondered the compassion of our Lord, But in that hour there rang a voice as sharp As cry of travail, so as if the earth Moaned in birth-throe "Nasyami aham bhu Nasyati loka! Surely I Am Lost, I And My Creatures:" then a pause, and next A pleading sigh borne on the western wind, "Sruyatam dharma, Bhagwat!" Oh, Supreme Let Thy Great Law Be Uttered! Whereupon The Master cast his vision forth on flesh, Saw who should hear and who must wait to hear, As the keen Sun gilding the lotus-lakes Seeth which buds will open to his beams And which are not yet risen from their roots;