Silent and thoughtful then they homeward turned,
  The prince deep musing on the old man’s words;
  “’The veil is lifted, and I seem to see
  A world of life and light and peace and rest.’ 
  O if that veil would only lift for me
  The mystery of life would be explained.” 
  As they passed on through unfrequented streets,
  Seeking to shun the busy, thoughtless throng,
  Those other words like duty’s bugle-call
  Still ringing in his ears:  “Let your light shine,
  That men no longer grope in dark despair”—­
  The old sad thoughts, long checked by passing joys,
  Rolling and surging, swept his troubled soul—­
  As pent-up waters, having burst their dams,
  Sweep down the valleys and o’erwhelm the plains.

  Just then an aged, angry voice cried out: 
  “O help! they’ve stolen my jewels and my gold!”
  And from a wretched hovel by the way
  An old man came, hated and shunned by all,
  Whose life was spent in hoarding unused gold,
  Grinding the poor, devouring widows’ homes;
  Ill fed, ill clad, from eagerness to save,
  His sunken eyes glittering with rage and greed. 
  And when the prince enquired what troubled him: 
  “Trouble enough,” he said, “my sons have fled
  Because I would not waste in dainty fare
  And rich apparel all my life has saved,
  And taken all my jewels, all my gold. 
  Would that they both lay dead before my face! 
  O precious jewels!  O beloved gold!”
  The prince, helpless to soothe, hopeless to cure
  This rust and canker of the soul, passed on,
  His heart with all-embracing pity filled. 
  “O deepening mystery of life!” he cried,
  “Why do such souls in human bodies dwell—­
  Fitter for ravening wolves or greedy swine! 
  Just at death’s door cursing his flesh and blood
  For thievish greed inherited from him. 
  Is this old age, or swinish greed grown old? 
  O how unlike that other life just fled! 
  His youth’s companions, wife and children, dead,
  Yet filled with love for all, by all beloved,
  With his whole heart yearning for others’ good,
  With his last breath bewailing others’ woes.” 
  “My best beloved,” said sweet Yasodhara,
  Her bright eyes filled with sympathetic tears,
  Her whole soul yearning for his inward peace,
  “Brood not too much on life’s dark mystery—­
  Behind the darkest clouds the sun still shines.” 
  “But,” said the prince, “the many blindly grope
  In sorrow, fear and ignorance profound,
  While their proud teachers, with their heads erect,
  Stalk boldly on, blind leaders of the blind. 
  Come care, come fasting, woe and pain for me,
  And even exile from my own sweet home,
  All would I welcome could I give them light.” 
  “But would you leave your home, leave me, leave all,
  And even leave our unborn pledge of love,
  The living blending of our inmost souls,