date than the poem itself; it reads like a noble fragment of Empedocles or Lucretius, introduced into the midst of an Homeric epic; and we observe that this episode is not noticed in the abstract of the Javanese version of this part of the Maha Bharata in Sir Stamford Raffles's work. Yet, in point of poetical conception, there is something singularly striking and magnificent in the introduction of this solemn discussion on the nature of the godhead and the destiny of man, in the midst of the fury and tumult of the civil war in which it occurs. The battle pauses while the god and the hero hold their sublime, though somewhat prolix, converse; and if a later interpolation, it is allied with great address to the main subject of the poem.

Of the Bhagavat-Gita we have before us-first, the English prose version of that venerable Sanscrit scholar, Mr. Charles Wilkins; secondly, the original text, with a Latin version, composed with singular elegance and dexterity by Augustus Schlegel; thirdly, some passages in German verse, at the end of the volume of Frederick Schlegel; fourthly, some extracts, in a remarkably able and profound disquisition on the philosophy as well as the poetry of the Bhagavat, by Baron William von Humboldt.

A civil war had broken out between the two great heroic races of the sons of Pandu and the sons of Kuru. The Panduidæ, having been driven from the throne of their common parent, which had been usurped by the younger race of Kuru, are returning from exile, with a mighty army, to maintain their rights and claim their ancestral sceptre. The battle is in the act of closing; the tall and valiant Bhishma, the leader, on the part of the Kuruidæ, harangues his followers; he thunders like a roaring lion,' and blows his shell of battle, to which the conchs and all the warlike music of his host reply. On the other side appears Arjuna in his splendid car, drawn by white horses, and attended by the god Krishna. Arjuna and all his captains in their turn blow their conchs (each of which, like the swords and steeds of the knights of Arthur and Charlemagne, has its proper name,)-a moment, and the battle begins to rage. But Arjuna, still accompanied by Krishna, commands his chariot to be driven into the space between the armies. He surveys the opposing hosts,each composed of his kindred; he beholds, on either side, brothers in arms against brothers;

populumque potentem,

In sua victrici conversum viscera dextrâ,
Cognatasque acies.'

A deep melancholy passes over his spirit, and in these words he addresses the deity who stands by his side. (In the versification of these passages, which we have ventured to attempt, our eight

line

line measure, which we have adopted without rhyme, in the number of its syllables, and as nearly as possible, in its cadence, answers to the Sanscrit original.)*

My kindred, Krishna, I behold, all standing for the battle arm'd; My every quailing member fails, and wan and wither'd is my face; Cold shuddering runs through all my frame, my hair stands stiff upon my head;

And Gandiv↑ falis from out my hand, and all my burning skin is parch'd.
I cannot move-I cannot stand; within, my reeling spirit swims.
On every side, oh fair-haired god! I see the dark ill-omened signs:
My kindred when I've slain in fight, what happiness remains for me?
For victory, Krishna, care not I, nor empire, nor the bliss of life;
For what is empire, what is wealth, and what, great king, is life itself,
When those for whom we thirst for wealth, and toil for empire and

for bliss,

Stand in the battle-field arrayed, and freely peril wealth and life? Teachers, sons, fathers, grandsires, uncles, nephews, cousins, kindred friends,

Not for the triple world would I, oh Madhuis' conqueror, slaughter

them;

How much less for this narrow earth, though they would sternly slaughter me.'

Arjuna dwells still more on the miseries of civil war, the extinction of noble races, the suspension of splendid family alliances, the interruption of all sacred rites, (the sacrificia gentilitia,) the general impiety, the licence among the females. He then sinks back in his chariot, lays aside his bow and arrows, and awaits the answer of the god. Krishna sternly reproves his tameness of character. Arjuna replies in a tone still more sad and broken spirited, and declares that he had rather beg his bread than obtain empire by the slaughter of his kindred. The reply of Krishna breathes the terrible sublime of pantheistic fatalism. Upon this system, the murder, the massacre of the dearest kindred, are indifferent; death and life are but unimportant modifications of the

*The oldest, most simple, and most generally adopted measure, is the Sloka, a distich, of two sixteen-syllable lines, divided at the eighth syllable. According to our prosodial marks, the following is the scheme :

The first four syllables are bound by no rule; the second half, on the contrary, is unalterably fixed, excepting that the last syllable has the common licence of termination. In the second half verse, I do not remember a single instance of deviation from this, though sometimes, but very seldom, the first half verse ends with another quadrisyllable foot.'-Schlegel, Indische Bibliothek, p. 36. Compare Mr. Colebrooke's elaborate Essays on Sanscrit Prosody, Kosegarten's Preface to Nala, and Bopp's Preface to his Translation of Selections from the Mahabharatâ.

+ His bow.

same

same being; and the immortality, the eternity of the soul becomes a terrific argument for utter disregard of human suffering in the present state of being.

'Thou mourn'st for those thou shouldst not mourn, albeit thy words are like the wise,

For those that live or those that die, may never mourn the truly wise. Ne'er was the time when I was not, nor thou, nor yonder kings of

earth:

Hereafter, ne'er shall be the time, when one of us shall cease to be. The soul, within its mortal frame, glides on through childhood, youth,

and age;

Then in another form renew'd, renews its stated course again.
All indestructible is He that spread the living universe;

And who is he that shall destroy the work of the Undestructible?
Corruptible these bodies are that wrap the everlasting soul-
The eternal, unimaginable soul. Whence on to battle, Bharata!
For he that thinks to slay the soul, or he that thinks the soul is slain,
Are fondly both alike deceived; it is not slain-it slayeth not;
It is not born-it doth not die; past, present, future, knows it not;
Ancient, eternal, and unchang'd, it dies not with the dying frame.
Who knows it incorruptible, and everlasting, and unborn,

What heeds he whether he may slay, or fall himself in battle slain?
As their old garments men cast off, anon new raiment to assume,
So casts the soul its worn-out frame, and takes at once another form.
The weapon cannot pierce it through, nor wastes it the consuming fire;
The liquid waters melt it not, nor dries it up the parching wind;
Impenetrable and unburn'd; impermeable and undried;

Perpetual, ever-wandering, firm, indissoluble, permanent,

Invisible, unspeakable. Thus deeming, wherefore mourn for it? But didst thou think that it was born, and didst thou think that it could die?

Even then thou should'st not mourn for it with idle grief, oh Bharata. Whate'er is born must surely die-whate'er can die is born again; Wherefore the inevitable doom thou should'st not mourn, oh Bharata.'

In this tone proceeds at some length the implacable deity. Arjuna listens with deep submission and deference, and by degrees elicits from Krishna the whole philosophy of religion, concerning the nature of the gods, the universe, the nature of man, the supreme good, and the highest Wisdom.

The first question is that which was constantly agitated in the Grecian schools-the comparative excellence of the active or contemplative life. Here the Bhagavat-Gita departs from the usual doctrine of the Yoguees, and eremitical fanatics of the East, and soars to a loftier mysticism. The highest perfection to which the human soul can attain is action without passion; the mind is to be entirely independent of external objects; to preserve its undisturbed serenity it should have the conscious power of withdrawing

all

all its senses within itself, as the tortoise draws all its limbs beneath its shell.' Action is necessary, but action must produce no emotion-no sensation on the calm spirit within; whatever may be their consequences, however important, however awful, events are to be unfelt, and almost unperceived, by the impassive mind; and on this principle Arjuna is to execute the fated slaughter upon his kindred, without the least feeling of sorrow, or fear, or compunction, being permitted to intrude on the divine apathy of his soul. Some of the images with which this passionless tranquillity of the spirit is illustrated appear to us singularly beautiful.

'As to the unrais'd, unswelling ocean flow the multitudinous streams, So to the soul serene, unmov'd, flow in the undisturbing lusts.' —And then again the soul, in this state of unbroken quietude, 'Floats like the lotus on the lake, unmov'd, unruffled by the tide.' The senses are employed in their separate functions, yet the soul still maintains its stately inactivity. In the Latin of Schlegel,Nihil equidem ago, (sic arbitretur devotus, veritatis guarus,) cernens, audiens, tangens, odorans, edens, ambulans, spirans, loquens, dimittens, prehendens, intuens et connivens quoque; sensus tantum in rebus sibi subjectis versantur.' Though the life of the anchorite does not appear to equal in religious sublimity this life of unimpassioned activity, yet one chapter seems to expatiate with peculiar delight on the solitary state of him who dwells apart with his tranquil spirit

'As hangs the still unwavering lamp, when not a breath disturbs the air.'

The occupations and the privileges of these holy anchorites are, if not the highest, yet approaching to the highest perfectibility. Their occupation is to keep all the avenues to the senses closed, to retain the soul within itself, to be perpetually repeating the mystic monosyllable, Om; so doing, they may attain on earth the glorious prerogative of seeing all things in God, and discerning the divine Unity which thus comprehends all things. After death, they ascend and are absorbed into Brahm, the great primal spirit. If through their own want of resolution, or cut short by death, they depart before they have accomplished their devout task, they may be born again, after many ages, in some pious family, recommence their course, and start afresh from the point of holiness and advancement at which they broke off during their former life. But it is remarkable that not merely are the self-inflicted painful mortifications, the excruciating penances, the absurd and fantastic tortures of the Yoguees not enforced, they are positively discountenanced. But it is not so much our object to discuss the philosophic or religious tenets

of

of the Bhagavat-Gita as to show the character of the poetry. Krishna gradually develops his own nature, and at length distinctly proclaims himself an Avatar of the supreme deity, Brahma himself, from whom all things emanate, into whom all are re-absorbed. Rising by degrees, he first proclaims himself to be whatever is most excellent in the whole of nature he is the soul in the body-among the stars the most splendid-among mountains, Meru-among rivers, the Ganges-among words, the mystic monosyllable-the noblest of animals, of birds, of fish-among the letters, A-among the seasons, the spring-and, what is most extraordinary, among frauds, gambling with dice. Whatever, in short, is pre-eminent or splendid derives its splendour and pre-eminence from being, as it were, a portion of the divine essence. He even goes so far as to assert that, as God, he is not merely all existence, but likewise all non-existence.

Immortality and Death am I; I am what is and what is not.' Still there is a distinction between the Deity and the universe, which is illustrated by the striking similitude,

'As the wide permeating air fills all the ether's boundless space, So deem ye, that indwells in me the sum of all created things;' and by a second, in which the universe is represented as a chain of pearls, suspended from the Supreme Being,-a notion singu larly resembling a remarkable passage in Homer (Iliad, viii. 25), which bears manifest impress of Asiatic origin*. If we are inclined to doubt whether all this is intended for a doctrinal exposition, or an imaginary poetic illustration of the pantheistic creed, the actual impersonation of the Deity, comprehending the whole universe within his visible form, is unquestionably the most extraordinary flight of poetic daring in the range of poetry. It is the whole essence of symbolical religion embodied in language, a highly abstract metaphysical creed represented as reality, the most subtle fiction of the reason arrayed in form and substance.

Arjuna implores the Deity that he may enjoy the sacred privilege

The image has been applied in another sense by Ben Jonson, in a passage of such inimitable sweetness, that we cannot forbear from quoting it:

Now, true love

No such effects doth prove;

That is an essence far more gentle, fine,
Pure, perfect, nay divine;

It is a golden chain let down from heaven,
Whose links are bright and even,

That falls like sleep on lovers, and combines
The soft and sweetest minds;

And in a calm and godlike unity

Preserves community.

of