And myriad stars spangled the azure vault,
And myriad lamps that through the darkness shone
Revealed the city that the night had veiled,
Where soon their weary limbs were laid to rest;
But through the silent hour preceding day,
Before the jungle-cock announced the dawn,
All roused from sleep in meditation sat.
But when the sun had set the east aglow,
And roused the birds to sing their matin-song's,
And roused the lowing herds to call their mates,
And roused a sleeping world to daily toil,
Their matins chanted, their ablutions made,
With bowl and staff in hand they took their way
Down to the city for their daily alms.

But earlier steps had brushed their dewy path.
From out the shepherd's cottage loving eyes
Had recognized the master's stately form,
And love-winged steps had borne the joyful news
That he, the poor man's advocate and friend,
The sweet-voiced messenger of peace and love,
The prince become a beggar for their sake,
So long expected, now at last returns.
From door to door the joyful tidings spread,
And old and young from every cottage came.
The merchant left his wares without a guard;
The housewife left her pitcher at the well;
The loom was idle and the anvil still;
The money-changer told his coins alone,
While all the multitude went forth to meet
Their servant-master and their beggar-prince.
Some brought the garden's choicest treasures forth,
Some gathered lotuses from Phalgu's stream,
Some climbed the trees to pluck their varied bloom,
While children gathered every wayside flower
To strew his way--their lover, savior, guide.

King Bimbasara from his watch-tower saw
The wild commotion and the moving throng,
And sent swift messengers to learn the cause.
With winged feet through vacant streets they flew,
And through the gates and out an avenue
Where aged trees that grew on either side,
Their giant branches interlocked above,
Made nature's gothic arch and densest shade,
While gentle breezes, soft as if they came
From devas' hovering wings, rustle the leaves
And strew the way with showers of falling bloom,
As if they, voiceless, felt the common joy.
And there they found the city's multitudes,
Not as in tumult, armed with clubs and staves,
And every weapon ready to their hands,
But stretching far on either side the way,
Their flower-filled hands in humble reverence joined,
The only sound a murm