Yet lacks he not, in reverence
    To Dronacharjya, who declined
    To teach him—­nay, with e’en offence
    That well might wound a noble mind,
    Drove him away;—­for in his heart
    Meek, placable, and ever kind,
    Resentment had not any part,
    And Malice never was enshrined.

    One evening, on his work intent,
    Alone he practised Archery,
    When lo! the bow proved false and sent
    The arrow from its mark awry;
    Again he tried—­and failed again;
    Why was it?  Hark!—­A wild dog’s bark! 
    An evil omen:—­it was plain
    Some evil on his path hung dark!

    Thus many times he tried and failed,
    And still that lean, persistent dog
    At distance, like some spirit wailed,
    Safe in the cover of a fog. 
    His nerves unstrung, with many a shout
    He strove to frighten it away,
    It would not go—­but roamed about,
    Howling, as wolves howl for their prey.

    Worried and almost in a rage,
    One magic shaft at last he sent,
    A sample of his science sage,
    To quiet but the noises meant. 
    Unerring to its goal it flew,
    No death ensued, no blood was dropped;
    But by the hush the young man knew
    At last that howling noise had stopped.

    It happened on this very day
    That the Pandava princes came
    With all the Kuru princes gay
    To beat the woods and hunt the game. 
    Parted from others in the chase,
    Arjuna brave the wild dog found—­
    Stuck still the shaft—­but not a trace
    Of hurt, though tongue and lip were bound.

    “Wonder of wonders!  Didst not thou
    O Dronacharjya, promise me
    Thy crown in time should deck my brow
    And I be first in archery? 
    Lo! here, some other thou hast taught
    A magic spell—­to all unknown;
    Who has in secret from thee bought
    The knowledge, in this arrow shown!”

    Indignant thus Arjuna spake
    To his great Master when they met—­
    “My word, my honor, is at stake,
    Judge not, Arjuna, judge not yet. 
    Come, let us see the dog “—­and straight
    They followed up the creature’s trace. 
    They found it, in the self-same state,
    Dumb, yet unhurt—­near Buttoo’s place.

    A hut—­a statue—­and a youth
    In the dim forest—­what mean these? 
    They gazed in wonder, for in sooth
    The thing seemed full of mysteries. 
    “Now who art thou that dar’st to raise
    Mine image in the wilderness? 
    Is it for worship and for praise? 
    What is thine object? speak, confess,”

    “Oh Master, unto thee I came
    To learn thy science.  Name or pelf
    I had not, so was driven with shame,
    And here I learn all by myself. 
    But still as Master thee revere,
    For who so great in archery! 
    Lo, all my inspiration here,
    And all my knowledge is from thee.”