University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Historical & Legendary Ballads & Songs

By Walter Thornbury. Illustrated by J. Whistler, F. Walker, John Tenniel, J. D. Watson, W. Small, F. Sandys, G. J. Pinwell, T. Morten, M. J. Lawless, and many others

collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A Hindoo Legend.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

A Hindoo Legend.

Under the shadow of a tree—
A tamarind-tree—the Krishna played.
His mother's hut was very near;
Upon the roof the flickering shade,
Netted with sunshine, cheerful spread.
The earthen drum was sounding there,
The market flag was fluttering red
High o'er the crowded village square.
'T was noon, and in the swamps' deep fens
The buffaloes were wallowing;
Torpid within their jungle dens
The tigers, gorged, were all asleep.
Even the feather-grass was still,
The lotus-flowers had closed their eyes,
The palm-tree waved not on the hill.
The little Krishna in his play
Some milk had from a temple taken.
His brothers ran and told the deed,
Thinking the Krishna Heaven-forsaken.
The angry mother eager ran
To seize the thief and all his clan;
And hurrying with a wrathful speed,
She found him by the temple gate.
He sank upon his knees and blushed,
And bent before the rod too late,
Still that foul sacrilege denying.
“Open your mouth, nor, Krishna, prate;
Your breath will show that you are lying.”
His mouth he opened angrily:
“There, mother, now I pray thee see.”—
She looked into his mouth so dark,
And saw, with awe and ecstasy,
Rising up slowly, spark by spark,
Like bubbling fire through the Summer wave,
Like golden flowers from a holy grave,
The three worlds and the seven seas,
The stars above the mount of heaven,
The guardian gods on the elephants,
Bright Meru's nectar-flowing founts.
The mighty tortoise that on its back
Poises the earth, and the floating rack,
All rolling thro' the deep blue gloom
As it will roll till the day of doom.
Then prostrate at the Krishna's feet
His mother fell, now contrite, weak;
And hailed him Lord of Earth and Heaven,
Of the three worlds and oceans seven.