solence; the imperishable
faith of a lover hid their spears of rebellion in its own wounds.

Thy judgment was in the mute pain of sleepless love: in the blush
of the chaste: in the tears of the night of the desolate: in the
pale morning-light of forgiveness.

O Terrible, they in their reckless greed climbed thy gate at
night, breaking into thy storehouse to rob thee.

But the weight of their plunder grew immense, too heavy to carry
or to remove.

Thereupon I cried to thee and said, Forgive them, O Terrible!

Thy forgiveness burst in storms, throwing them down, scattering
their thefts in the dust.

Thy forgiveness was in the thunder-stone; in the shower of blood;
in the angry red of the sunset.

XXXVII

Upagupta, the disciple of Buddha, lay asleep on the dust by the
city wall of Mathura.

Lamps were all out, doors were all shut, and stars were all
hidden by the murky sky of August.

Whose feet were those tinkling with anklets, touching his breast
of a sudden?

He woke up startled, and the light from a woman's lamp struck his
forgiving eyes.

It was the dancing girl, starred with jewels, clouded with a
pale-blue mantle, drunk with the wine of her youth.

She lowered her lamp and saw the young face, austerely beautiful.

"Forgive me, young ascetic," said the woman; "graciously come to
my house. The dusty earth is not a fit bed for you."

The ascetic answered, "Woman, go on your way; when the time is
ripe I will come to you."

Suddenly the black night showed its teeth in a flash of
lightning.

The storm growled from the corner of the sky, and the woman
trembled in fear.

......

The branches of the wayside trees were aching with blossom.

Gay notes of the flute came floating in the warm spring air from
afar.

The citizens had gone to the woods, to the festival of flowers.

From the mid-sky gazed the full moon on the shadows of the silent
town.

The young ascetic was walking in the lonely street, while
overhead the lovesick _koels_ urged from the mango branches
their sleepless plaint.

Upagupta passed through the city gates, and stood at the base of
the rampart.

What woman lay in the shadow of the wall at his feet, struck with
the black pestilence, her body spotted with sores, hurriedly
driven away from the town?

The ascetic sat by her side, taking her head on his knees, and
moistened her lips with water and smeared her body with balm.

"Who are you, merciful one?" asked the w