The Path of Altruism

Trees are bowed down with weight of fruit,
Clouds big with rain hang low,
So good men humbly bear success,
Nor overweening grow.

 

No earrings deck the good man's ears, which still on scripture feed;
His hands, still open to the poor, no golden bracelets need;
The perfume of his kindly acts, like flowers in leaves concealed,
Exceeds the fragrant scent which nard and sandal unguents yield.

 

He brings thee joy, thy foes dismays,
Thy secrets hides, proclaims thy praise,
With timely gifts relieves thy need,
Thus may'st thou know the "friend indeed."

 

The sun awakes the lotus-bower,
The moon cheers up her favourite flower,
The cloud unasked its rain bestows,
Self-moved the good man's bounty flows.

 

Some generous souls forbear their own, and seek another's gain;
Most men, neglecting not their own, their neighbour's cause maintain;
Those are mere demons who would build their wealth on other's loss,
But what are those who profitless their neighbour's interest cross?

 

Milk to the water with it mixed its native virtues gave,
Which, pitying sore its tortured friend, rushed on a flaming grave;
The milk, unwilling to be left, must share its fellow's fate--
True friendship envy cannot reach, nor fiery pains abate!

 

Here Vishnu sleeps, and there his foes,
Yonder the suppliant hills repose,
Here lurk the quenchless fires of doom--
Ocean's broad breast for all hath room.

 

Subdue desire, and vanquish pride,
Bear scorn, in wrong take no delight,
Speak truth, for sages' wants provide,
And follow still the path of right.

 

Honour the worthy, love thy foes,
Hide thy own virtues, cheer the faint,
Pursue renown till life doth close,
Such conduct marks the perfect saint.

 

How few there are in mind and speech and body free from stain,
Who fill with linked benefits earth, heaven, and Pluto's reign,
Who, telling others' virtuous acts, small grains to hills increase,
In whose unruffled soul expands the flower of sinless peace!

 

Nor Meru nor Himâdri's heights adore,
Where trees are simply trees and nothing more,
For Malaya's nobler mount thy praises keep,
Whose woods sweet gums and odorous balsams weep.