As birds of night and savage prowling beasts
  Fly from the glories of the rising sun. 
  Long time he lay, wrestling in earnest prayer,
  When from the eastern wall, one clothed in light,
  Beaming with love, and halo-crowned, appeared,
  And gently said:  “Siddartha, rise! go forth! 
  Waste not your days in fasts, your nights in tears! 
  Give what you have; do what you find to do;
  With gentle admonitions check the strong;
  With loving counsels aid and guide the weak,
  And light will come, the day will surely dawn.” 
  This said, the light grew dim, the form was gone,
  But hope revived, his heart was strong again.

  Joyful he rose, and when the rising sun
  Had filled the earth’s dark places full of light,
  With all his worldly wealth, his staff and bowl,
  Obedient to that voice he left his cave;
  When from a shepherd’s cottage near his way,
  Whence he had often heard the busy hum
  Of industry, and childhood’s merry laugh,
  There came the angry, stern command of one
  Clothed in a little brief authority,
  Mingled with earnest pleadings, and the wail
  Of women’s voices, and above them all
  The plaintive treble of a little child. 
  Thither he turned, and when he reached the spot,
  The cause of all this sorrow was revealed: 
  One from the king had seized their little all,
  Their goats and sheep, and e’en the child’s pet lamb. 
  But when they saw him they had often watched
  With reverent awe, as if come down from heaven,
  Prostrate they fell, and kissed his garment’s hem,
  While he so insolent, now stood abashed,
  And, self accused, he thus excused himself: 
  “The Brahmans make this day a sacrifice,
  And they demand unblemished goats and lambs. 
  I but obey the king’s express command
  To bring them to the temple ere high noon.” 
  But Buddha stooped and raised the little child,
  Who nestled in his arms in perfect trust,
  And gently said:  “Rise up, my friends, weep not! 
  The king must be obeyed—­but kings have hearts. 
  I go along to be your advocate. 
  The king may spare what zealous priest would kill,
  Thinking the gods above delight in blood.” 
  But when the officers would drive the flock
  With staves and slings and loud and angry cries,
  They only scattered them among the rocks,
  And Buddha bade the shepherd call his own,
  As love can lead where force in vain would drive. 
  He called; they knew his voice and followed him,
  Dumb innocents, down to the slaughter led,
  While Buddha kissed the child, and followed them,
  With those so late made insolent by power,
  Now dumb as if led out to punishment.