{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_62512/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_62512","id":"gutenberg_62512","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62512","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Gems -- Folklore","Opals"],"text":"ASNEHA\n                                   THE\n                           Legend of the Opal\n\n                        ILLUSTRATIONS AND TEXT BY\n                            CARLO DE FORNARO\n\n                        PUBLISHED BY MARCUS & CO.\n                                JEWELERS\n                            544 FIFTH AVENUE\n                                NEW YORK\n\n                           Copyright, 1902, by\n                            CARLO DE FORNARO\n\n\n    _J\u2019aspire, volupt\u00e9 divine!_\n    _Hymne profond, d\u00e9licieux!_\n    _Tous les sanglots de ta poitrine,_\n    _Et crois que ton coeur s\u2019illumine_\n    _Des perles que versent tes yeux!_\n\n                     \u2014_C. Baudelaire._\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n    Utter a powerful song to Indra, which will be as sweet as\n    butter and honey.\n\n                                                    \u2014Rig Veda.\n\nOnce upon a time, in the land of Kasi, there lived a poor musician, who\nwas also a poet and a most imaginative storyteller. He had lost his flute\nin a village brawl, and being too poor to buy a new instrument had to\ncontent himself in relating wonderful legends concerning the gods, and\nstirring tales about the jungle people.\n\nOne morning, feeling the necessity of communing with his spirit in quiet\nand solitude, he wandered into the jungle under a favorite cluster of\nbamboos.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nHis soaring imagination was checked in its flight by a song of so\nextraordinary a tune, so novel and strange to his ears that he fancied\nhe had been carried up by unknown favor to Indra\u2019s heaven. The heavenly\nsinger was only a small bird with feathers like old gold, two eyes green\nas emeralds, and the beak and legs of the same color.\n\nAnd the Golden Bird spoke to him: \u201cAsneha! thou hast acquired great merit\nby thy devotion to matters spiritual, by thy kindness to animals and to\nhuman beings. Therefore, if thou wilt cut a reed within these woods they\nshall repeat my songs to thee.\n\n\u201cBut have a care, thou must remain pure and not suffer to be deluded by\nthe love of woman, and thou shalt conquer the world.\u201d\n\nHe cut a flute in haste and pressed his lips to it to utter a song from\nit. And verily the music which flowed from its opening was divine and\ngolden beyond description. Sometimes it sang softly as the moonbeam plays\non a silent lake of emerald, dancing and trembling with so gentle a\nrhythm that only the soul of a poet could hear its melody; at other times\nit swelled its notes to the power of the roaring Maruts smiting against\nthe unmovable Himalayas, as the wrath of Kali with the shiver of the cold\nsnows from the eternal summits. Again, its melody dripped sweetly as the\nwhitest of honey with the scent of a thousand flowers, of innumerable\nforms and shadings the most delicate. It wept, also, a song of despair\nand misery, so sadly, so pitifully, that it caused the tears to surge as\nreadily as the Fountain of all the Sorrows.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nSo he incised on his flute this motto:\n\n    \u201cOnce upon a time the Golden Bird sang to me,\n    Now I shall sing a golden song to the gods.\u201d\n\nHe went from village to village, from city to city, playing with the\ngenerosity of an inspired poet, followed by man, woman, child and beast\nalike, whenever he put his flute to his lips. They offered him their\nhomes, their riches, their dearest possessions, but he scorned all,\naccepting only a little rice with spices, partaking of shelter with the\nhumblest when the tempest-beaten jungle forbade his sleeping out of doors.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nQuickly his fame had spread, and reached the ears of the Maharajah,\nwho bade him appear at the palace, to vie with the court musicians,\nwho were the most famous in the land. The court musicians, in their\nignorance, eyed the half-naked poet with a defiant leer, as one by one\nthey began playing, while nearby sat the Maharajah with his daughter, the\nfair Mahismati, and the courtiers around, all fairly laden with gems,\nappearing as enormous glistening scarabei.\n\nThey sang and drummed, they scratched their fiddles and twanged their\nguitars, they played the harps and clanked the cymbals to the admiring\nassemblage of noblemen, who wondered how this miserable, half-starved\nvagabond dared to compete with his wretched little instrument.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nWhen the musicians had ended, Asneha got up, announcing the Song of Songs.\n\nIt began imperceptibly, but as insinuatingly as the language of a couple\nof loving eyes whispers to another loved pair; so indistinct to the ear\nthat it was as the incipient melody in the mind of the composer.\n\nThen it continued, soothing and muffled as the patter of small naked\nfeet dancing the nautch on the marble flooring; rattled speedily as an\nincessant cascade of rubies, diamonds, sapphires, pearls and emeralds\non a basin of gold. Steadily it flowed, like a Song of Desire and\nVoluptuousness, filling the hall with a scarlet inundation of light;\nheavy and numbing as the exhalation of soporific flowers.\n\nBut now it ascended to healthier altitudes like a Song of Victory and\nExultation, direct and concise, in a blast of crystal trumpets, higher,\nslowly, in the manner of the eagle.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nIt rang forth agitated and sonorous as a gong, yet farther, solitary,\ninaccessible.\n\nThen as if it had grown in magnitude by the ascent, it roared like\na planet as it shoots into space to restore the equilibrium of the\nUniverse, and suddenly, unexpectedly, in the fashion of the shooting\nstar, it stopped short, carrying in its wake the exhausted assemblage of\nlisteners to the floor as a mass of inert flesh.\n\nOne by one, as do the reeds after the violent gust of wind has blown\nover, they raised themselves, but not quite so erect as before. The\nmusicians approached him humbly, and breaking their instruments, threw\nthem at his feet, salaaming and promising never to play again from that\nday on.\n\nThen Rajah Nila spoke: \u201cOh Asneha! Thou art indeed a great musician,\nand thou shalt be rewarded as befits a king; my riches, my kingdom, my\ndaughter, are thine for thy choosing!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Rajah!\u201d answered Asneha, \u201cI am only a poor man and a musician by\ndivine grace, but I am not a beggar, and have no desire for thy kingly\ngifts and thy fair daughter!\u201d\n\nThe astonished Nila replied: \u201cAssuredly thou art richer than am I, for\nthou art freed of all desires! But let me be a beggar for once, and\nentreat thee for another song!\u201d\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n[Illustration: PAVANA]\n\nOne day Pavana, the messenger of the gods, appeared to Asneha mounted\non his white antelope, a flag in one hand, in the other an arrow, with\na command from Indra to present himself immediately to the gods. So he\nmounted the antelope, and in less time than it takes to think it, he was\ncarried to the eastern spur of the great Mount Meru, which is Swargra, in\nthe City of Asmaravati, the heaven of Indra. All the gods had assembled\nthere. Above all towered the great and mighty Indra, the Ruler of the\ngods and Lord of the Firmament, mounted on his elephant Airavata, at his\nright his dog Surana, and at his left his wife Indrani. Farther to the\nleft was Surya, the god of the Sun, on his winged horse Tarkshya. Agni,\nthe god of Fire, on a blue ram, and Varuna, the god of Waters, on his\nterrible Makara.\n\n[Illustration: VARUNA\n\nKUVERA]\n\nAt Indra\u2019s right was Yama, the god of Death, on a blue buffalo, with his\ntwin sisters, the Yamunis, at their feet, the Sarameyas, their faithful\nwatchdogs.\n\nOn Yama\u2019s right was Kuvera, the god of Wealth, with his sister Kuveri, in\ntheir aerial car of jeweled lapis-lazuli.\n\nThen Soma, the god of the Moon, on a white antelope, and Mangala, the god\nof War.\n\nAlso the goddess of Love, Radha, and all the lesser gods in magnificent\narray, in all their splendor, in all their beauty and power, watching\nsilently Asneha.\n\n[Illustration: AGNI]\n\nIndra patted Airavata, and then spoke:\n\n\u201cOh Asneha! Thou hast conquered the world with thy songs, and thou hast\nboasted to conquer the gods too! Now make thy boast good, or thou shalt\ngo into the keeping of Yama!\u201d\n\nAsneha looked around, a little dazed by this gathering of Immortals; he\nthen shook his long black hair, as if to conquer timidity, and then began\nhis Golden Song.\n\nPure and exquisite as the breath of woman with teeth like pearls, as\nfragrant as the rose of Cashmere, it sang, now jocund, now sad, as the\nmoods of love-sick Radha; plaintively yearning as an appeal to love in\nthe stillness of the starless night; joyous and eager as the meeting of\ndesirous lips; languishing as the woman\u2019s heart fainting under the first\nkiss of the loved; it redoubled powerful, passionate as the march of the\nconquering male who has subdued. Abruptly it altered the rhythm as if\nawakening in readiness for battle, with the clamor of an army lusting\nfor carnage, with the clank of swords, the discordant clash of shields,\narmors and spears, the dull thud of shattered bones and skulls, vehement\nimprecations, deep blasphemies, full of rancor, hatred and vengeance.\n\n[Illustration: YAMA]\n\nThen succeeded a silence, heavy, full of terrible signs, as of a silent\nflapping of wings, of a roaming of untold shadows, blacker than the night.\n\nIt repeated the death-song of the jackal and the hyena, with its\nharassing, fiendish chorus, pursuing in a mad dance with strange rhythms,\nthe lively reel of the black scavengers on the silent and pale corpses.\nThen it died out, purling and gurgling as life ebbs out of a tortured\nbody from a deep and crimson wound.\n\nPity and compassion returned to the song, gently, caressingly, as if\nnursing multiple wounds, infusing sympathy and life, like the wind, which\nladen with coolness and fragrance, sweeps over an arid and desolate\nvalley.\n\nIt broke into a chant, strong and overwhelming, and so irresistible that\nit was as a strain of Perfect Joy; persevered tenfold, omnipotent, with\na note so true, so deep and so infinite that it was like a sip of the\nAmrita, blissful and oblivious.\n\nAll the gods encircled Asneha, instinctively, irresistibly, as the cobras\nsurround the snake-charmer when he plays to them his captivating melody.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nThey stared at him fixedly as if to get the sound from its original\nsource, and when he had ended they stood one instant stock-still, dumb,\noverflowing with admiration and ecstasy. Then they all pressed around\nhim, speaking and shouting confusedly like ordinary mortals. But a\nhush fell over the assemblage as the great Indra slowly made his way\nto Asneha, and for a while stood absorbed and pensive, looking at the\nmusician.\n\nHe then spoke with his clear, sonorous voice: \u201cAsneha! Verily thou hast\nmade thy daring boast good, therefore thou shalt become immortal too!\n\n\u201cI cannot offer thee what is earthly, for thou canst acquire all earthly\nthings with thy song. But I have created a gem which comprises all the\nharmonies, all the melodies of music in color. It is ever changing, ever\nbeautiful and imperishable as are your songs. Take it, and delight with\nit the mortals!\u201d\n\nTo the kneeling Asneha he extended his palm, where scintillated, luminous\nand irradiating as a perfect song, the Opal.\n\n[Illustration]","title":"Asneha, the legend of the opal","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":1856}