moving to the plain. 
     A ewe with couplets in the flock there was: 
     Some hurt had lamed one lamb, which toiled behind
     Bleeding, while in the front its fellow skipped,
     And the vexed dam hither and thither ran,
     Fearful to lose this little one or that;
     Which when our Lord did mark, full tenderly
     He took the limping lamb upon his neck,
     Saying, “Poor wooly mother, be at peace! 
     Whither thou goest I will bear thy care;
     ’Twere all as good to ease one beast of grief
     As sit and watch the sorrows of the world
     In yonder caverns with the priests who pray.” 
     “But,” spake he of the herdsmen, “wherefore, friends! 
     Drive ye the flocks adown under high noon,
     Since ’tis at evening that men fold their sheep?”

     And answer gave the peasants:—­“We are sent
     To fetch a sacrifice of goats fivescore,
     And fivescore sheep, the which our Lord the King
     Slayeth this night in worship of his gods.”

     Then said the Master, “I will also go!”
     So paced he patiently, bearing the lamb
     Beside the herdsmen in the dust and sun,
     The wistful ewe low bleating at his feet. 
     Whom, when they came unto the river-side,
     A woman—­dove-eyed, young, with tearful face
     And lifted hands—­saluted, bending low:—­
     “Lord! thou art he,” she said, “who yesterday
     Had pity on me in the fig grove here,
     Where I live lone and reared my child; but he,
     Straying amid the blossoms, found a snake,
     Which twined about his wrist, while he did laugh
     And teased the quick forked tongue and opened mouth
     Of that cold playmate.  But alas! ere long
     He turned so pale and still, I could not think
     Why he should cease to play, and let my breast
     Fall from his lips.  And one said, ’He is sick
     Of poison;’ and another, ‘He will die.’ 
     But I, who could not lose my precious boy,
     Prayed of them physic, which might bring the light
     Back to his eyes; it was so very small,
     That kiss-mark of the serpent, and I think
     It could not hate him, gracious as he was,
     Nor hurt him in his sport.  And some one said,
     ’There is a holy man upon the hill—­
     Lo! now he passeth in the yellow robe;
     Ask of the Rishi if there be a cure
     For that which ails thy son.’  Whereon I came
     Trembling to thee, whose brow is like a god’s,
     And wept and drew the face-cloth from my babe,
     Praying thee tell what simples might be good. 
     And thou, great sir! didst spurn me not, but gaze
     With gentle eyes and touch with patient hand;
     Then draw the face-cloth back, saying to me,
     ’Yea! little sister, there is that might heal
     Thee first, and him, if thou couldst fetch the thing;
     For they who seek physicians