Book Four: The Book of Birth and Quest
Canto Three: The Call to the Quest
A morn that seemed a new creation’s front, Bringing a greater sunlight, happier skies, Came burdened with a beauty moved and strange Out of the changeless origin of things. An ancient longing struck again new roots: The air drank deep of unfulfilled desire; The high trees trembled with a wandering wind Like souls that quiver at the approach of joy, And in a bosom of green secrecy For ever of its one love-note untired A lyric coãl cried among the leaves. Away from the terrestrial murmur turned Where transient calls and answers mix their flood, King Aswapati listened through the ray To other sounds than meet the sense-formed ear. On a subtle interspace which rings our life, Unlocked were the inner spirit’s trance-closed doors: The inaudible strain in Nature could be caught; Across this cyclic tramp of eager lives, Across the deep urgency of present cares, Earth’s wordless hymn to the Ineffable Arose from the silent heart of the cosmic Void; He heard the voice repressed of unborn Powers Murmuring behind the luminous bars of Time. Again the mighty yearning raised its flame That asks a perfect life on earth for men And prays for certainty in the uncertain mind And shadowless bliss for suffering human hearts And Truth embodied in an ignorant world And godhead divinising mortal forms. A word that leaped from some far sky of thought, |
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Admitted by the cowled receiving scribe |
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Immortal Powers sweep flaming past your doors; |
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The Wise who know see but one half of Truth, |
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A deathless meaning filled her mortal limbs; |
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Armed for the splendid hazard of thy life |
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Hand in strong hand confront Heaven’s question, life: |
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The moon floated, a luminous waif through heaven And sank below the oblivious edge of dream; Night lit the watch-fires of eternity. Then all went back into mind’s secret caves; A darkness stooping on the heaven-bird’s wings Sealed in her senses from external sight And opened the stupendous depths of sleep. When the pale dawn slipped through Night’s shadowy guard, Vainly the new-born light desired her face; The palace woke to its own emptiness; The sovereign of its daily joys was far; Her moonbeam feet tinged not the lucent floors: The beauty and divinity were gone. Delight had fled to search the spacious world. End of Canto Three |
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