Collected Works (Vol. III)

104 GARGOYLES They hold him sacred from the sun, From death and dissolution. Within the charméd space is nought Possible unto thought. There in their equilibrium They float—how still, how numb ! There must they rest, there will they stay Innocent of the judgment day. Remote from cause, effect retires. Act slays its dams and sires. There is no hill, there is no pit. They have no mark to hit. It is enough. Closed is the sphere. There is no more to hear. They perish not ; they do not thrive. They are at rest, alive, The Seven Wise Men of Martaban; And, moribund, the man. THE BEAUTY AND THE BHIKKHU: A TALE OF THE TENTH IMPURITY. (From the Pait.) I LISTEN! The venerable monk pursued His path with downcast eyes ; his thought revolved Ever in closer coils serenely screwed About the Tenth Impurity. Dissolved All vision of his being but of one Thing only, his sun-whitened skeleton. II, A dainty lady sick of simple life, Chained to the cold couch of some vapid man, Put on her jewels, off the word of wife, Resolved to play the painted courtesan, So ran along the village path. Her laughter Wooed all the world to follow tumbling after. III. Then when she met the venerable monk Her shamelessness desired a_ leprous wreath Of poisonous flowers, seducing him. He shrunk Back from her smile, seeing her close white teeth. Bones ! he exclaimed, and meditating that, From a mere Bhikkhu grew an Arahat. IV. Her husband found her gone, in fury followed Lashing the pale path with his purple feet, Heedless of stones and serpents. Hail! he holloaed To the new Rahan! whom he bowed to greet Kissing the earth: O holy master, say If a fair female hath passed by this way ! Vv. The Bhikkhu blessed the irritated man. Then the slow sloka? serpentine began: ‘‘ Friend ! neither man nor woman owns This being’s high perception, owed Only to Truth ; nor beams nor stones Support the Arahat’s abode. Who grasps one truth, beholds one light, Becomes that truth, that light ; discedes From dark and deliquescent night, From futile thoughts and fatuous deeds. Your girl, your gems, your mournful tones Irk not perfection with their goad. One thing I know—a set of bones Is travelling on upon this road !” 1 Arahat. 2 Stanza.