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    TnE DUTY OF KINGS. " He that ruleth shou...

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    Only Erroneous But Move In A Path Whereo...

    as a Daw , he will do for Morals what Newton _did'for Physics ; and not till then . . , The misconception of the nature of Daw which pervades this work , is accompanied hy as greater misconcep tion of the scientific nature of Analogy , so much emp loyed b y him , e . g . —~ religion and electricity . " In this connexion between violence and religious feeling , there are not wanting analogies with material phenomena . If the divine and spiritual principle of sincere religion has occasionally produced fruit so strange and unexpected as hostility and bloodshed , persecution and hatred , so bave the subtler material elementshowever pervading may be their salutary effects—produced accompanying evils , which can neither be evaded nor denied . One of the subtlest of our atmospheric elements is electricity . Of the great part it plays in promoting vegetation , in the formation of rain and dew , and in the regulation of climate and temperature , there can be little doubt . Yet it is probable that this recondite but salutary and beneficent agent is , in its changes and mutations , one of the causes of those mysterious visitations of pestilence and famine that , from time to time , in all recorded ages ,

    have , at certain periods , afflicted the world . The same may probably be true of magnetism and of galvanism , if these be not indeed modifications only of electricity . Thus , then , in both worlds , material and moral , evils may accompany , and do accompany , the most refined and spiritualised , as well as the grossest and most tangible agencies . Electricity becomes the source of disease and death ; religious zeal , of persecution , cruelty , and aggression . The best of motives and agents are not good unmixed , as the worst are not altogether bad ; and as that electric fluid , which is present in the rain and dew that refreshes all nature , is the moving power likewise in the thunderstorm , the tornado , the pompero , and tbe hurricanebreathes pestilence in the sirocco , and storm in the monsoon—so have the mild teachings even of Christianity their possible tendencies to an opposite influence , and from the Sermon on the Mount the perversity of human passion has elaborated a Sicilian Vespers and a Saint Bartholomew !"

    Monmouth and Macedon both have M . as their initial . This work is , however , only one of a class . So long as men attempt the scientific solution of moral problems , and neglect the Method of positive science , so long will they wander helplessly through the labyrinth without a clue .

    Ar01803

    Tne Duty Of Kings. " He That Ruleth Shou...

    TnE DUTY OF KINGS . " He that ruleth should endeavour with his might and main to be _JLiko the Powers of God around him , in his strength and majesty ; Like the Rain-God in due season sendeth showers from above , He should shed upon his kingdom equal favour , gracious love ; As the Sun draws up the water with his fiery rays of might , Thus let him from his own kingdom claim his revenue and right ; As the mighty Wind unhinder d _bloiveth freely where he will , Let the monarch , ever present with his spies all places fill ; Like as in the judgment Yama punisheth both friends and foes , Let him judge and punish duly rebels Who his might oppose : As the Moon ' s unclouded rising bringeth peace and calm delight , Let his gracious presence ever gladden all his people ' s sight ; Let tbe king consume the wicked—burn the guilty in his ire , Pright in glory , fierce in anger , like the mighty God of Fire ; As the General Mother feedeth all to whom she giveth birth , Let the king support his subjects , like the kindly-fostering Earth . " But , the most beautiful of all is that " Death of the Hermit Boy" from tho " Uamayana . " The bereaved king , wIioho son has just been taken from him , recurs in his sorrow to an early crime , and sec in his present allliction a punishment : — " Spake he sorrowing to Iv . _vnsnlya , sighing , weeping , for her son : — ' Art thou waking , mournful lady ? give me all thy listening ear , Hearken to a talc of sorrow , —to an ancient deed of fear . Surely each must reap the harvest of his actions here below , Virtuous deed shall bear a blessing , sin shall ever bring forth woe ; I . right are tho I'ahisa ' _s blossoms , homely is the Amru tree , And a man will fell the Amras , tend _l'alasas carefully . For awhile his heart is merry , when he sees the flowers ho fair , But in summer-time he sorrows , seeking fruit , for none is there . Fool ! 1 wafer'd bright I _' _tihums , laid the useful A turns low ; Now I mourn for _hanish'd Kama , and my folly finite th woe . 'Tis a deed of youthful rashness brings on me this evil day , As a young child tnsteth poison , eating death in heedless play . ' *' He relates how he waited in ambush to try his archer-skill , and fancying ho heard a wild beast" lOagcr to lay low the monster , forth a glittering shaft 1 drew , 1 _'oixonouH as fell serpent ' s venom from the string the arrow How ; Then 1 heard a bitter wailing , and a voice , ' Ah , me ! ah , mo !' Of one wounded , falling , dying , calling out in agony ;

    SPECIMENS OF INDIAN POETRY Specimens of Old Indian Poetry . Translated from the original Sanskrit into English Verse . By Ralph T . H . Griffith . Arthur Hall , Virtue , and Co . Those who complain of the neglect of the Indian Muse , forget that beyond the remoteness of Indian thought there lies another cause—inadequacy of translation . Few poems read well in translation , and none where the substance is not of itself interesting enough to dispense with form . Now in Oriental poetry the form is everything ; and that form is so opposed to all our ideas , that in translation it is apt to be wearisome bombast . Translation is always a makeshift . But as English readers are not likel y to learn Sanskrit for the literary deli ght of enjoying Indian poetry , one is very glad to get hold of a makeshift , that some dim image may be seen , " as in a glass darkly , " of this Indian Mnse . Hence the interest of such a work as Mr . Griffith ' s . It is an unpretending little volume , but lovers of literature will prize it ; and as our own poets are silent just now , a hearing may be gained for these voices of an earl y world . The " Veda Hymns" with which the volume opens belong to the _untranslateable class . The extracts from the " Book of the Daw of Manu , " the " Ilamayana , " and the " Mahabharata" are more intelligible . Erom the first Ave extract

    Tne Duty Of Kings. " He That Ruleth Shou...

    Writhing on the bank in anguish with a plaintive voice cried he « Ah ! wherefore has this arrow smitten a poor harmless Devotee ? Here at eve to fill my pitcher to this lonel y stream I came , Tell me , whom have I offended , how have I deserved blame ? Who should slay the guiltless Hermit , living in the secret wood , His sole drink the river water , simple herbs and fruit his food ? Will the murderer spoil my body ? Am I for my vesture slain ? Little from my deerskin mantle , or my bark coat will he gain ; 'Tis not mine own death that pains me—from my aged parents torn , Long their stay and only succour— 'tis for their sad fate I mourn . Who will feed them when I am not ? Heedless youth , whoe ' er thou art Thou hast murder'd father , mother , offspring—all with one fell dart . ' ' Horror seized my soul within me , and my mind was well-nigh gone , In the stilly calm of evening as I heard that piteous moan ; Rushing forward through the bushes , on Surayu ' _s bank I spied ,

    Lying low , a young Ascetic , with my shaft deep in his side ; With his matted hair dishevell'd , and his pitcher cast away , From his side the life-blood ebbing , smear'd with dust and gore he lay ; Then he _fix'd his eyes upon me , —scarcely could my senses brook , As these bitter words be utter'd , that long last departing look : — ' Only to fetch water came I—tell me , wherefore do I bleed ? Have I sinn'd against thee , monarch ; done thee wrong in word or deed ? Ah ! I ' m not thine only victim—cruel king , thy heedless dart Pierces too a father ' s bosom , and an aged mother ' s heart . They , my parents , blind and feeble , from this hand alone can drink , When I come not , thirsting , hoping , sadly to the grave they'll sink . No fruit from my Veda studies , none from Penance do I gain , Por my hapless father knows not his dear son is lying slain ; Ah ! and if he knew me dying , powerless to save were he , As a tree can never rescue from the axe the doomed tree .

    Hasten to him , son of Raghu ! tell my father of my fate , Lest his wrath like fire consume thee—hasten ere it be too late I There within the shady forest is my father ' s hermitage , Go , entreat him , son of Raghu ! lest he curse thee in his rage ; Hasten , king !—but first in mercy draw this arrow from my side j Ah ! it eats away my body , as the river-bank the tide . ' Mind-distracted thus I ponder'd ; —Now he writhes in agony , When I draw the deadly arrow from his body he must die , Quick he saw the doubt that held me , pitying , fearing , where I stood , And the wounded boy address'd me , conquering pain by fortitude : — ' Let not thy Bad heart be troubled for thy sin if I should die , Lessen'd be thy grief and terror , for no Twice-born , King ! ami ; Fear not , thou mayst do my bidding guiltless of a Brahman ' s death , Wedded to a Vaisya father , Sudra mother gave me breath /

    Thus he spake , and I down kneeling , drew the arrow from his side j Then the Hermit , rich in penance , fix'd his eyes on me , and died . Pierced through , wetted by the ripples , by Surayu lying dead , Bitterly I _mourn'd the Hermit , weeping , much disquieted . Motionless I stood in sorrow—sadly , anxiously I thought , How to minister most kindly to the woe my hand had . wrought . From the stream I fill'd the pitcher , and , as he had told the road , Quickly reach'd the lowly cottage where the childless twain abode ; Talking of their son ' s long tarrying , a poor aged sightless pair , Like two birds with clipt wings , helpless , none to guide them , sat thoy there Sadly , slowly , I approached them , by my rash deed left forlorn , _Crush'd with terror was my spirit , and my mind with anguish . torn ; At the sound of coming footsteps thus I heard the old man say , ' Dear son , bring me water quickly—thou hast been too long away ! Bathing in the stream , or playing , thou hast stay'd so long from home ; Come , thy mother longeth for thee—come in , quickly , dear child , come , Be not angry , mine own darling—keep not in thy memory Any hard word from thy mother , any hasty speech from me ; Thou art thy poor parents' succour , eyes art thou unto the blind ; Speak , on thee our lives are resting—why so silent and unkind ?' Thus I heard , yet deeper grieving , and in fresh augmented woe , Spake to the bereaved father , with words faltering and slow . "

    After relating what has befallen" O ' er his cheeks at my sad story _flow'd the tear-streams in a flood , Scarce for weeping spake tho hermit , as with folded hands I stood ; ' King ! hadst thou conceal'd this horror—this blood-shedding left untold , On thy head thc sin had fallen with its fruit ten thousand-fold ; For a Warrior stuin'd with murder , of a Hermit above all , From his high estate , blood-guilty , were he Indra ' s self , must fall ; Thou dost live , for all unconscious , monarch ! didst thou slay my son ; Else had all the race of Raghu fallen , by thy deed undone ; Lead us , king , by thee bereaved , lead us to tho fatal place , Let us fold our darling ' s body in a long and last embrace / By the hand I led tho mourners to tho river where he lay , Fondly clasp'd the sightless parents in their arms the death-cold clay-* We omit tho lamentations of tho father , followed by the funeral preparations—tho poem thus concludes -. — " Duly were the sad rites ended by thc parents' loving care , And again the Sage address'd me as I stood a suppliant there : — 'Thou bast slain my well-beloved , —robb'd my one dear child of breath , Slay ine , slay the childless father—there is now no sting in death . Hut—for thou hast kill'd my darling- wretched King ! thy breast shall _kno Something of tho pangs 1 tndfer a bereaved father h woe . —¦ Thus I lay my curse upon thee—for this thing that thou hast done , As I mourn for my beloved , thou shall , sorrow for a son / Thus the childless Hermit cursed me , and straightway the nged p »» r To the funeral pile ascended , and breathed out their spirits there . Lndy dear ! that youthful folly fruiteth woo upon my head , Heavy ' n my heart , within me , nnd my soul disquieted ; Yen , the ancient Hermit ' s cursing is _fulfiU'd <> n me this day , — Sorrow for iny hanish'd Rama taketh all my life away . Kiss me now , my own _Knusalya , quickly will my vital breath Leave me at the awful summons of tho messengers of Death ;

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), Aug. 28, 1852, page 18, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/cld_28081852/page/18/