DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.635#0103
CHAPTER VI
ON THE GANGES
"Arise! The breath of life hath come back to us—the darkness is gone, the light
approacheth! Ushas hath opened a path for Surya, the Sun, to travel; notv our
days will be le7igthened. Singing the praises of the brightening ?norn, the priest, the
poet, ariseth with the web of his hymn. Bounteous maiden, shine upon him whc
praiselh thee; spread upon us the gift of life and children, thou who givest heroic
sons and wealth of kine and horses. . . . Mother of the gods! Revelation of the
glory of the Infinite! Banner of sacrifice, magnificent Ushas, shine forth—arise t
Shoxuer thy blessings upon our prayers, and j?iake us chief among the people."—
Rig-Veda, Hymn to the Dawn, I. 113.
The traveller.who wishes to realize the magnificence
of Benares on the river-side, and to catch some reflec-
tion of that Vedic brightness which still shines through
all that is sordid and vulgar in the modern city, must
be at Dasasamedh Ghat before the first streak of
dawn. This is what he may see as he floats slowly
down the river on a December morning:—
There is a coppery glow on the eastern horizon;
the Ashvins, twin heralds of the dawn, are rising.
Curling wreaths of evaporation rise from the placid
river, and a blanket of white mist lies over the great
sandy waste, laid bare by the shrinking of the monsoon
flood. King Soma, the Moon, is sinking slowly be-
hind the ghats, and in the dim light of his silvery rays
the massive monasteries and palaces, built by devout
Hindu princes, loom mysteriously out of the mist, and
seem to rise like a gigantic fortress wall, sheer from
the water's edge. A few boats are crossing the river
ON THE GANGES
"Arise! The breath of life hath come back to us—the darkness is gone, the light
approacheth! Ushas hath opened a path for Surya, the Sun, to travel; notv our
days will be le7igthened. Singing the praises of the brightening ?norn, the priest, the
poet, ariseth with the web of his hymn. Bounteous maiden, shine upon him whc
praiselh thee; spread upon us the gift of life and children, thou who givest heroic
sons and wealth of kine and horses. . . . Mother of the gods! Revelation of the
glory of the Infinite! Banner of sacrifice, magnificent Ushas, shine forth—arise t
Shoxuer thy blessings upon our prayers, and j?iake us chief among the people."—
Rig-Veda, Hymn to the Dawn, I. 113.
The traveller.who wishes to realize the magnificence
of Benares on the river-side, and to catch some reflec-
tion of that Vedic brightness which still shines through
all that is sordid and vulgar in the modern city, must
be at Dasasamedh Ghat before the first streak of
dawn. This is what he may see as he floats slowly
down the river on a December morning:—
There is a coppery glow on the eastern horizon;
the Ashvins, twin heralds of the dawn, are rising.
Curling wreaths of evaporation rise from the placid
river, and a blanket of white mist lies over the great
sandy waste, laid bare by the shrinking of the monsoon
flood. King Soma, the Moon, is sinking slowly be-
hind the ghats, and in the dim light of his silvery rays
the massive monasteries and palaces, built by devout
Hindu princes, loom mysteriously out of the mist, and
seem to rise like a gigantic fortress wall, sheer from
the water's edge. A few boats are crossing the river