ረቡዕ 27 ጃንዋሪ 2016

z Bhagvat-Geeta and Walden !

Thus it appears fiat the sweltering inhabitants of Charles-
ton and New Orleans, of Madras and Bombay and Calcutta,
drink at my well. In the morning I bathe my intellect in the
stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagvat-Geeta,
since whose composition years of the gods have elapsed, and
in comparison with which our modern world and its literature
seem puny and trivial ; and I doubt if that philosophy is not to
be referred to a previous state of existence, so remote is its
sublimity from our conceptions. I lay down the book and go
to my well for water, and lo! there I meet the servant of the
Bramin, priest of Brahma and Vishnu and Indra, who still
sits in his temple on the Ganges reading the Vedas, or dwells
at the root of a tree with his crust and water jug. I meet his
servant come to draw water for his master, and our buckets
as it were grate together in the same well. The pure Walden
water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges. With
favoring winds it is wafted past the site of the fabulous islands
of Atlantis and the Hesperides, makes the periplus of Hanno/
and, floating by Ternate and Tidore and the mouth of the
Persian Gulf, melts in the tropic gales of the Indian seas, and
\s landed in ports of which Alexander only heard the names!











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