worn-out fetters drop away."

"Much suffering-brother," Buddha answered him,
"The weary traveler, wandering through the night
In doubt and darkness, gladly sees the dawn.
The storm-tossed sailor on the troubled sea,
Wearied and drenched, with joy re-enters port.
But other nights succeed that happy dawn,
And other seas may toss that sailor's bark.
But he who sees Nirvana's sacred Sun,
And in Nirvana's haven furls his sails,
No more shall wander through the starless night,
No more shall battle with the winds and waves.
O joy of joys! our eyes have seen that Sun!
Our sails have almost reached that sheltering port,
But shall we, joyful at our own escape,
Leave our poor brothers battling with the storm,
Sails rent, barks leaking, helm and compass lost,
No light to guide, no hope to cheer them on?"

"Each for himself must seek, as we have sought,"
The tempter said, "and each must climb alone
The rugged path our weary feet have trod.
No royal road leads to Nirvana's rest;
No royal captain guides his army there.
Why leave the heights with so much labor gained?
Why plunge in darkness we have just escaped?
Men will not heed the message we may bring.
The great will scorn, the rabble will deride,[6]
And cry 'He hath a devil and is mad.'"

"True," answered Buddha, "each must seek to find;
Each for himself must leave the downward road;
Each for himself must choose the narrow path
That leads to purity and peace and life.
But helping hands will aid those struggling up;
A warning voice may check those hasting down.
Men are like lilies in yon shining pool:
Some sunk in evil grovel in the dust,
Loving like swine to wallow in the mire--
Like those that grow within its silent depths,
Scarce raised above its black and oozy bed;
While some love good, and seek the purest light,
Breathing sweet fragrance from their gentle lives--
Like those that rise above its glassy face,
Sparkling with dewdrops, royally arrayed,
Drinking the brightness of the morning sun,
Distilling odors through the balmy air;
But countless multitudes grope blindly on,
Shut out from light and crushed by cruel castes,
Willing to learn, whom none will deign to teach,
Willing to rise, whom none will deign to guide,
Who from the cradle to the silent grave,
Helpless and hopeless, only toil and weep--
Like those that on the stagnant waters float,
Smothered wit