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A Century of Indian Epigrams: Chiefly from the Sanskrit of Bhartrihari (1899)
Bhartrhari,Paul Elmer More
No preview available - 2008
austere awakened soul hath awhile beguile Bhar Bhartrihari wrote blissful goal body boughs Brahma Brahmin breath broiled Buddha cavern cavern's rocky ledge cuckoo darkness dear Babbitt death door The long doth dream at ease dwell earth Eternal Fate Fear fire flowers food Of evil forever fruit Ganga gods Greece haunts preferment's door heart heaven Hindus ignorance INDIAN EPIGRAMS Indian poetry Kama knowledge laugh lightly hurry o'er load of worldly lonely long days drag look Lord love's maiden's foot matted locks moon mortal first draws murmur Oujein Ourselves we forge path peace penance peripatetic Plato pleasure Plunge into thought poet poet's poetry Poor fools reckon SANSKRIT OF BHARTRIHARI seer silent silly singing sleep solitude Sorrow soul hath thrown spirit stanzas sweet thee thou trihari truth turn Vedanta verses wealth wild winds woman wonder words world outworn worldly wisdom
Page 4 - The East bow'd low before the blast In patient, deep disdain; She let the legions thunder past, And 'plunged in thought again.
Page 88 - ... arises from Christianity, for the loss of individuality is ever craved by the Hindu as the highest good. And besides this distinction between the Western and Eastern forms of what may be called secular solitude, the Hindu carried the idea into abstract realms whither no Occidental can penetrate. HE, in that solitude before The world was, looked the wide void o'er And nothing saw, and said, Lo, I Alone!— and still we echo the lone cry. Thereat He feared, and still we fear In solitude when naught...
Page 103 - India, which has given itself no less entirely to the pursuit of the secret of peace. Like an uneasy fool thou wanderest far Into the nether deeps, Or upward climbest where the dim-lit star Of utmost heaven sleeps. Through all the world thou rangest, O my soul, Seeking and wilt not rest; Behold, the peace of Brahma, and thy goal, Hideth in thine own breast.
Page 56 - XXXIV I saw an ass who bore a load Of sandal wood along the road, And almost with the burden bent, Yet never guessed the sandal scent ; So pedants bear a ponderous mass Of books they comprehend not, — like the ass. XL This have I done, and that will do, And this half-done must carry through ; So busied, bustling, full of care, Poor fools, Death pounces on us unaware. To-day is thine, fulfil its work, Let no loose hour her duty shirk ; Still ere thy task is done, comes Death, The Finisher, — he...
Page 76 - LIV The harvest ripens as the seed was sown, And he that scattered reaps alone ; — So from each deed there falls a germ That shall in coming lives its source affirm. UNSEEN they call it, for it lurks The hidden spring of present works ; UNKNOWN BEFORE, even as the fruit Was undiscovered in the vital root. And he that now impure hath been Impure shall be, the clean be clean ; We wrestle in our present state With bonds ourselves we forged, — and call it Fate.
Page 53 - ... upon thy root. XX Harder than faces in a glass designed, A woman's heart to bind ; Like mountain paths up cragged heights that twist, Her ways are lightly missed. Like early dew-drops quivering on a leaf, Her thoughts are idly brief; And errors round her grow, as on a vine The poison-tendrils twine. XXXI Oil from the sand a man may strain, If chance he squeeze with might and main ; The pilgrim at the magic well Of the mirage his desert thirst may quell. So...
Page 29 - VII e silvery laughter; eyes that sparkle bold, Or droop in virgin rue; The prattling words of wonder uncontrolled When world and life are new; The startled flight and dallying slow return, And all their girlish sport; — Ah me, that they time's ruinous truth must learn, Their flowering be so short!
Page 90 - TIME is the root of all this earth; These creatures, who from Time had birth, Within his bosom at the end Shall sleep; Time hath nor enemy nor friend. All we in one long caravan Are journeying since the world began; We know not whither, but we know Time guideth at the front, and all musT: go.
Page 48 - Communion with the good is friendship's root, That dieth not until our death ; And on the boughs hang ever golden fruit : — And this is friendship, the world saith. Ourselves we doubt, our hearts we hardly know, We lean for guidance on a friend ; Ay, on a righteous man we'd fain bestow Our faith, and follow to the end.