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.
