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There were scores of poems, one in Latin and many in French. Americans seem to have been contented to quote Kipling, the "Lotus Eaters," or Omar, but Englishmen had written their own. English university men are generous poetasters. I have read their verses in inns and outhouses of many countries. Usually they season with a sprig from Horace or Vergil. "I'm goin' to the west'ard," said McTavish.
This Krishna here, of eyes red as the lotus, clad in yellow robes, endued with mighty arms, this Krishna who is our well-wisher, brother, friend, and relative, is Narayana of unfading glory. He covers all the worlds like a leathern case, at his own pleasure. He is the puissant Lord, of inconceivable soul. He is Govinda, the foremost of all beings.
Returning to where the primeval Lotus was that had given them birth, they saw the puissant Being, the original Creator, staying in the form of Aniruddha of fair complexion and endued with a splendour resembling that of the Moon. Of immeasurable prowess, he was under the influence of Yoga-sleep, his body stretched on the waters and occupying a space as vast as itself.
They have cherry festivals and wistaria festivals and chrysanthemum festivals when everybody goes to picnics and spends the whole day with the flowers. On the day of the Lotus Festival they go very early in the morning, before the sun is up, to a pond where the lotus flowers bloom. They go with their teacher and all the children. When they get to the pond, the teacher says, "Listen!"
The writing instinct, which in the little old town on Manhattan would keep his hand traveling back and forth across the paper for days at a stretch, here languished and drowsed like some heavy-eyed, faintly smiling lotus eater.
The bird's-foot lotus was the first. The boy must have seen it, must have trodden on it in the bare woodland pastures, certainly run about on it, with wet naked feet from the bathing; but the boy was not conscious of it. This was the first, when the desire came to identify and to know, fixing upon it by means of a pale and feeble picture.
The Gombe, a long stretch of deep water, winding in and out of green groves, calm, placid, with lotus leaves lightly resting on its: surface, all pretty, picturesque, peaceful as a summer's dream, looked very inviting for a bath. I sought out the most shady spot under a wide- spreading mimosa, from which the ground sloped smooth as a lawn, to the still, clear water.
Think of that, O best of gods, which would be good, O thou of lotus eyes, for my humble self, that am devoted to thee, that seek thy protection, and that am desirous of obtaining a blissful end." "'Vasudeva said, "Since, O bull among men, thy devotion to me is very great, for this, O prince, I have displayed my celestial form to thee.
All this she had performed, and in a dream had been instructed that from the deep morass high up in the Danish land the place was minutely described to her she might bring home a certain lotus flower, which beneath the water would touch her breast, that would cure him. And therefore she had flown, in the magical disguise of a swan, from Egypt up to "the wild morass."
The act of rolling over in the night is attended with some danger and more anxiety, especially by the occupants of the upper berths. In the daytime you can sit on the edge like an embarrassed boy, with nothing to support your spine, or you can curl up like a Buddha on his lotus flower, with your legs under you; but that is not dignified, nor is it a comfortable posture for a fat man.
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