This famous and marvellous Sanskrit poem occurs as
an episode of the Mahabharata, in the sixth — or “Bhishma” —
Parva of the great Hindoo epic. It enjoys immense popularity and
authority in India, where it is reckoned as one of the “Five
Jewels,” — pancharatnani — of Devanagiri literature. In plain
but noble language it unfolds a philosophical system which remains to
this day the prevailing Brahmanic belief, blending as it does the
doctrines of Kapila, Patanjali, and the Vedas. So lofty are many of
its declarations, so sublime its aspirations, so pure and tender its
piety, that Schlegel, after his study of the poem, breaks forth into
this outburst of delight and praise towards its unknown author:
“Magistrorum reverentia a Brachmanis inter sanctissima pietatis
officia refertur. Ergo te primum, Vates sanctissime, Numinisque
hypopheta! quisquis tandem inter mortales dictus tu fueris, carminis
bujus auctor, cujus oraculis mens ad excelsa quaeque,quaeque, aeterna
atque divina, cum inenarraoih quddam delectatione rapitur-te primum,
inquam, salvere jubeo, et vestigia tua semper adore.” Lassen
re-echoes this splendid tribute; and indeed, so striking are some of
the moralities here inculcated, and so close the parallelism —
ofttimes actually verbal — between its teachings and those of the
New Testament, that a controversy has arisen between Pandits and
Missionaries on the point whether the author borrowed from Christian
sources, or the Evangelists and Apostles from him.
This raises the question of its date, which cannot
be positively settled. It must have been inlaid into the ancient epic
at a period later than that of the original Mahabharata, but Mr
Kasinath Telang has offered some fair arguments to prove it anterior
to the Christian era. The weight of evidence, however, tends to place
its composition at about the third century after Christ; and perhaps
there are really echoes in this Brahmanic poem of the lessons of
Galilee, and of the Syrian incarnation.
Its scene is the level country between the Jumna
and the Sarsooti rivers — now Kurnul and Jheend. Its simple plot
consists of a dialogue held by Prince Arjuna, the brother of King
Yudhisthira, with Krishna, the Supreme Deity, wearing the disguise of
a charioteer. A great battle is impending between the armies of the
Kauravas and Pandavas, and this conversation is maintained in a
war-chariot drawn up between the opposing hosts.
The poem has been turned into French by Burnouf,
into Latin by Lassen, into Italian by Stanislav Gatti, into Greek by
Galanos, and into English by Mr. Thomson and Mr Davies, the prose
transcript of the last-named being truly beyond praise for its
fidelity and clearness. Mr Telang has also published at Bombay a
version in colloquial rhythm, eminently learned and intelligent, but
not conveying the dignity or grace of the original. If I venture to
offer a translation of the wonderful poem after so many superior
scholars, it is in grateful recognition of the help derived from their
labours, and because English literature would certainly be incomplete
without possessing in popular form a poetical and philosophical work
so dear to India.
There is little else to say which the “Song
Celestial” does not explain for itself. The Sanskrit original is
written in the Anushtubh metre, which cannot be successfully
reproduced for Western ears. I have therefore cast it into our
flexible blank verse, changing into lyrical measures where the text
itself similarly breaks. For the most part, I believe the sense to be
faithfully preserved in the following pages; but Schlegel himself had
to say: “In reconditioribus me semper poetafoster mentem recte
divinasse affirmare non ausim.” Those who would read more upon the
philosophy of the poem may find an admirable introduction in the
volume of Mr Davies, printed by Messrs Trubner & Co.