He dreamed he saw proud embassies from far
Bringing the crowns and scepters of the earth,
Bowing in reverence before the prince,
Humbly entreating him to be their king--
From whom he fled in haste as if in fear.
Then dreamed he saw his son in tattered robes
Begging from Sudras for his daily bread.
Again, he dreamed he saw the ancient tower
Where he in worship had so often knelt,
Rising and shining clothed with living light,
And on its top the prince, beaming with love,
Scattering with lavish hand the richest gems
On eager crowds that caught them as they fell.
But soon it vanished, and he saw a hill,
Rugged and bleak, cliff crowned and bald and bare,
And there he saw the prince, kneeling alone,
Wasted with cruel fastings till his bones
Clave to his skin, and in his sunken eyes
With fitful flicker gleamed the lamp of life
Until they closed, and on the ground he sank,
As if in death or in a deadly swoon;
And then the hill sank to a spreading plain,
Stretching beyond the keenest vision's ken,
Covered with multitudes as numberless
As ocean's sands or autumn's forest leaves;
And mounted on a giant elephant,
White as the snows on Himalaya's peaks,
The prince rode through their midst in royal state,
And as he moved along he heard a shout,
Rising and swelling, like the mighty voice