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The Waste Land

by T. S. Eliot

May, 1998 [Etext #1321]

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Eliot

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THE WASTE LAND

"Nam Sibyllam quidem Cumis ego ipse oculis meis vidi in ampulla pendere, et cum illi pueri dicerent: Sibylla ti theleis; respondebat illa: apothanein thelo."

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade, And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten, 10

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.

In the mountains, there you feel free.

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, 20

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water. Only There is shadow under this red rock, (Come in under the shadow of this red rock), And I will show you something different from either Your shadow at morning striding behind you Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

30

Frisch weht der Wind

Der Heimat zu

Mein Irisch Kind,

Wo weilest du?

"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;

"They called me the hyacinth girl."

- Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, 40

Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

Od' und leer das Meer.

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante, Had a bad cold, nevertheless

Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe, With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she, Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor, (Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!) Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks, The lady of situations.

50

Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel, And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card, Which is blank, is something he carries on his back, Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.

I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.

Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone, Tell her I bring the horoscope myself: One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City,

60

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn, A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many, I had not thought death had undone so many.

Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled, And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.

Flowed up the hill and down King William Street, To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.

There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying

"Stetson!

"You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!

70

"That corpse you planted last year in your garden,

"Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?

"Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?

Line 42 Od'] Oed' - Editor.

"Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,

"Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!

"You! hypocrite lecteur! - mon semblable, - mon frere!"

II. A GAME OF CHESS

The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne, Glowed on the marble, where the glass Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80

(Another hid his eyes behind his wing) Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra Reflecting light upon the table as The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it, From satin cases poured in rich profusion; In vials of ivory and coloured glass Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes, Unguent, powdered, or liquid - troubled, confused And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air That freshened from the window, these ascended 90

In fattening the prolonged candle-flames, Flung their smoke into the laquearia, Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.

Huge sea-wood fed with copper

Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.

Above the antique mantel was displayed As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100

Filled all the desert with inviolable voice And still she cried, and still the world pursues,

"Jug Jug" to dirty ears.

And other withered stumps of time Were told upon the walls; staring forms Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.

Footsteps shuffled on the stair.

Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair Spread out in fiery points

Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

110

"My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.

"Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.

"What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?

"I never know what you are thinking. Think."

I think we are in rats' alley

Where the dead men lost their bones.

"What is that noise?"

The wind under the door.

"What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?"

Nothing again nothing.

120

"Do

"You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

"Nothing?"

I remember

Those are pearls that were his eyes.

"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"

But

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag -

It's so elegant

So intelligent

130

"What shall I do now? What shall I do?"

I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street

"With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?

"What shall we ever do?"

The hot water at

ten.

And if it rains, a closed car at four.

And we shall play a game of chess, Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said -

I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself, 140

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.

He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you

To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.

You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set, He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.

And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert, He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time, And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.

Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.

150

Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.

Others can pick and choose if you can't.

But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.

You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.

(And her only thirty-one.)

I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face, It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.

(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.) 160

The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.

You are a proper fool, I said.

Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,

What you get married for if you don't want children?

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,

And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot -

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.

170

Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.

Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

III. THE FIRE SERMON

The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.

Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers, Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.

And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors; 180

Departed, have left no addresses.

Line 161 ALRIGHT. This spelling occurs also in the Hogarth Press edition - Editor.

By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .

Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song, Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.

But at my back in a cold blast I hear The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation Dragging its slimy belly on the bank While I was fishing in the dull canal On a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190

Musing upon the king my brother's wreck And on the king my father's death before him.

White bodies naked on the low damp ground And bones cast in a little low dry garret, Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.

But at my back from time to time I hear The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.

O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter And on her daughter

200

They wash their feet in soda water Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit

Jug jug jug jug jug jug

So rudely forc'd.

Tereu

Unreal City

Under the brown fog of a winter noon Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants 210

C.i.f. London: documents at sight, Asked me in demotic French

To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits Like a taxi throbbing waiting,

I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives, Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives 220

Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea, The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights Her stove, and lays out food in tins.

Out of the window perilously spread Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays, On the divan are piled (at night her bed) Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.

I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest -

I too awaited the expected guest.

230

He, the young man carbuncular, arrives, A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare, One of the low on whom assurance sits As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.

The time is now propitious, as he guesses, The meal is ended, she is bored and tired, Endeavours to engage her in caresses Which still are unreproved, if undesired.

Flushed and decided, he assaults at once; Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240

His vanity requires no response, And makes a welcome of indifference.

(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all Enacted on this same divan or bed; I who have sat by Thebes below the wall And walked among the lowest of the dead.) Bestows one final patronising kiss, And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit . . .

She turns and looks a moment in the glass, Hardly aware of her departed lover; 250

Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:

"Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over."

When lovely woman stoops to folly and Paces about her room again, alone, She smoothes her hair with automatic hand, And puts a record on the gramophone.

"This music crept by me upon the waters"

And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.

O City city, I can sometimes hear Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260

The pleasant whining of a mandoline And a clatter and a chatter from within Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls Of Magnus Martyr hold

Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

The river sweats

Oil and tar

The barges drift

With the turning tide

Red sails

270

Wide

To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.

The barges wash

Drifting logs

Down Greenwich reach

Past the Isle of Dogs.

Weialala leia

Wallala leialala

Elizabeth and Leicester

Beating oars

280

The stern was formed

A gilded shell

Red and gold

The brisk swell

Rippled both shores

Southwest wind

Carried down stream

The peal of bells

White towers

Weialala leia

290

Wallala leialala

"Trams and dusty trees.

Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe."

"My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart Under my feet. After the event

He wept. He promised 'a new start'.

I made no comment. What should I resent?"

"On Margate Sands.

300

I can connect

Nothing with nothing.

The broken fingernails of dirty hands.

My people humble people who expect Nothing."

la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning

O Lord Thou pluckest me out

O Lord Thou pluckest

310

burning

IV. DEATH BY WATER

Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead, Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell And the profit and loss.

A current under

sea

Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell He passed the stages of his age and youth Entering the whirlpool.

Gentile or Jew

O you who turn the wheel and look to windward, 320

Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces After the frosty silence in the gardens After the agony in stony places

The shouting and the crying

Prison and palace and reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead

We who were living are now dying With a little patience

330

Here is no water but only rock

Rock and no water and the sandy road The road winding above among the mountains Which are mountains of rock without water If there were water we should stop and drink Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand If there were only water amongst the rock Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340

There is not even silence in the mountains But dry sterile thunder without rain There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses

If there were water

And no rock

If there were rock

And also water

And water

350

A spring

A pool among the rock

If there were the sound of water only Not the cicada

And dry grass singing

But sound of water over a rock

Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?

360

When I count, there are only you and I together But when I look ahead up the white road There is always another one walking beside you Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded I do not know whether a man or a woman

- But who is that on the other side of you?

What is that sound high in the air Murmur of maternal lamentation

Who are those hooded hordes swarming Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth 370

Ringed by the flat horizon only

What is the city over the mountains Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air Falling towers

Jerusalem Athens Alexandria

Vienna London

Unreal

A woman drew her long black hair out tight And fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light 380

Whistled, and beat their wings

And crawled head downward down a blackened wall And upside down in air were towers Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

In this decayed hole among the mountains In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.

It has no windows, and the door swings, 390

Dry bones can harm no one.

Only a cock stood on the rooftree Co co rico co co rico

In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust Bringing rain

Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves Waited for rain, while the black clouds Gathered far distant, over Himavant.

The jungle crouched, humped in silence.

Then spoke the thunder

400

DA

Datta: what have we given?

My friend, blood shaking my heart The awful daring of a moment's surrender Which an age of prudence can never retract By this, and this only, we have existed Which is not to be found in our obituaries Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor In our empty rooms

410

DA

Dayadhvam: I have heard the key

Turn in the door once and turn once only We think of the key, each in his prison Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus DA

Damyata: The boat responded

Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar 420

The sea was calm, your heart would have responded Gaily, when invited, beating obedient To controlling hands

I sat upon the

shore

Fishing, with the arid plain behind me Shall I at least set my lands in order?

London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina Quando fiam ceu chelidon - O swallow swallow Le Prince d'Aquitaine a la tour abolie 430

These fragments I have shored against my ruins Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.

Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

Shantih shantih shantih

Line 416 aetherial] aethereal

Line 429 ceu] uti - Editor

NOTES ON "THE WASTE LAND"

Not only the title, but the plan and a good deal of the incidental symbolism of the poem were suggested by Miss Jessie L. Weston's book on the Grail legend: From Ritual to Romance (Macmillan).<1> Indeed, so deeply am I indebted, Miss Weston's book will elucidate

the difficulties of the poem much better than my notes can do;

and I recommend it (apart from the great interest of the book itself)

to any who think such elucidation of the poem worth the trouble.

To another work of anthropology I am indebted in general, one which has

influenced our generation profoundly; I mean The Golden Bough; I have

used especially the two volumes Adonis, Attis, Osiris.

Anyone who is

acquainted with these works will immediately recognise in the poem

certain references to vegetation ceremonies.

<1> Macmillan] Cambridge.

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

Line 20. Cf. Ezekiel 2:1.

23. Cf. Ecclesiastes 12:5.

31. V. Tristan und Isolde, i, verses 5-8.

42. Id. iii, verse 24.

46. I am not familiar with the exact constitution of the Tarot pack

of cards, from which I have obviously departed to suit my own convenience.

The Hanged Man, a member of the traditional pack, fits my purpose

in two ways: because he is associated in my mind with the Hanged God

of Frazer, and because I associate him with the hooded figure in

the passage of the disciples to Emmaus in Part V. The Phoenician Sailor

and the Merchant appear later; also the "crowds of people," and

Death by Water is executed in Part IV. The Man with Three Staves

(an authentic member of the Tarot pack) I associate, quite arbitrarily,

with the Fisher King himself.

60. Cf. Baudelaire:

"Fourmillante cite;, cite; pleine de reves, Ou le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant."

63. Cf. Inferno, iii. 55-7.

"si lunga tratta

di gente, ch'io non avrei mai creduto che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta."

64. Cf. Inferno, iv. 25-7:

"Quivi, secondo che per ascoltare,

"non avea pianto, ma' che di sospiri,

"che l'aura eterna facevan tremare."

68. A phenomenon which I have often noticed.

74. Cf. the Dirge in Webster's White Devil .

76. V. Baudelaire, Preface to Fleurs du Mal.

II. A GAME OF CHESS

77. Cf. Antony and Cleopatra, II. ii., l. 190.

92. Laquearia. V. Aeneid, I. 726: dependent lychni laquearibus aureis incensi, et noctem flammis

funalia vincunt.

98. Sylvan scene. V. Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 140.

99. V. Ovid, Metamorphoses, vi, Philomela.

100. Cf. Part III, l. 204.

115. Cf. Part III, l. 195.

118. Cf. Webster: "Is the wind in that door still?"

126. Cf. Part I, l. 37, 48.

138. Cf. the game of chess in Middleton's Women beware Women.

III. THE FIRE SERMON

176. V. Spenser, Prothalamion.

192. Cf. The Tempest, I. ii.

196. Cf. Marvell, To His Coy Mistress.

197. Cf. Day, Parliament of Bees:

"When of the sudden, listening, you shall hear,

"A noise of horns and hunting, which shall bring

"Actaeon to Diana in the spring,

"Where all shall see her naked skin . . ."

199. I do not know the origin of the ballad from which these lines

are taken: it was reported to me from Sydney, Australia.

202. V. Verlaine, Parsifal.

210. The currants were quoted at a price "carriage and insurance

free to London"; and the Bill of Lading etc. were to be handed

to the buyer upon payment of the sight draft.

Notes 196 and 197 were transposed in this and the Hogarth Press edition,

but have been corrected here.

210. "Carriage and insurance free"] "cost, insurance and freight"-Editor.

218. Tiresias, although a mere spectator and not indeed a "character,"

is yet the most important personage in the poem, uniting all the rest.

Just as the one-eyed merchant, seller of currants, melts into

the Phoenician Sailor, and the latter is not wholly distinct

from Ferdinand Prince of Naples, so all the women are one woman,

and the two sexes meet in Tiresias. What Tiresias sees, in fact,

is the substance of the poem. The whole passage from Ovid is

of great anthropological interest:

'. . . Cum Iunone iocos et maior vestra profecto est

Quam, quae contingit maribus,' dixisse, 'voluptas.'

Illa negat; placuit quae sit sententia docti Quaerere Tiresiae: venus huic erat utraque nota.

Nam duo magnorum viridi coeuntia silva Corpora serpentum baculi violaverat ictu Deque viro factus, mirabile, femina septem Egerat autumnos; octavo rursus eosdem Vidit et 'est vestrae si tanta potentia plagae,'

Dixit 'ut auctoris sortem in contraria mutet, Nunc quoque vos feriam!' percussis anguibus isdem Forma prior rediit genetivaque venit imago.

Arbiter hic igitur sumptus de lite iocosa Dicta Iovis firmat; gravius Saturnia iusto Nec pro materia fertur doluisse suique Iudicis aeterna damnavit lumina nocte, At pater omnipotens (neque enim licet inrita cuiquam

Facta dei fecisse deo) pro lumine adempto Scire futura dedit poenamque levavit honore.

221. This may not appear as exact as Sappho's lines, but I had in mind

the "longshore" or "dory" fisherman, who returns at nightfall.

253. V. Goldsmith, the song in The Vicar of Wakefield.

257. V. The Tempest, as above.

264. The interior of St. Magnus Martyr is to my mind one of

the finest among Wren's interiors. See The Proposed Demolition

of Nineteen City Churches (P. S. King & Son, Ltd.).

266. The Song of the (three) Thames-daughters begins here.

From line 292 to 306 inclusive they speak in turn.

V. Gutterdsammerung, III. i: the Rhine-daughters.

279. V. Froude, Elizabeth, Vol. I, ch. iv, letter of De Quadra

to Philip of Spain:

"In the afternoon we were in a barge, watching the games on the river.

(The queen) was alone with Lord Robert and myself on the poop,

when they began to talk nonsense, and went so far that Lord Robert

at last said, as I was on the spot there was no reason why they

should not be married if the queen pleased."

293. Cf. Purgatorio, v. 133:

"Ricorditi di me, che son la Pia; Siena mi fe', disfecemi Maremma."

307. V. St. Augustine's Confessions: "to Carthage then I came,

where a cauldron of unholy loves sang all about mine ears."

308. The complete text of the Buddha's Fire Sermon (which corresponds

in importance to the Sermon on the Mount) from which these words are taken,

will be found translated in the late Henry Clarke Warren's Buddhism

in Translation (Harvard Oriental Series). Mr. Warren was one

of the great pioneers of Buddhist studies in the Occident.

309. From St. Augustine's Confessions again. The collocation

of these two representatives of eastern and western asceticism,

as the culmination of this part of the poem, is not an accident.

V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

In the first part of Part V three themes are employed: the journey to Emmaus, the approach to the Chapel Perilous

(see Miss Weston's book) and the present decay of eastern Europe.

357. This is Turdus aonalaschkae pallasii, the hermit-thrush

which I have heard in Quebec County. Chapman says (Handbook of

Birds of Eastern North America) "it is most at home in secluded

woodland and thickety retreats. . . . Its notes are not remarkable

for variety or volume, but in purity and sweetness of tone and

exquisite modulation they are unequalled." Its "water-dripping song"

is justly celebrated.

360. The following lines were stimulated by the account of one

of the Antarctic expeditions (I forget which, but I think one

of Shackleton's): it was related that the party of explorers,

at the extremity of their strength, had the constant delusion

that there was one more member than could actually be counted.

367-77. Cf. Hermann Hesse, Blick ins Chaos:

"Schon ist halb Europa, schon ist zumindest der halbe Osten Europas auf dem

Wege zum Chaos, fährt betrunken im heiligem Wahn am Abgrund entlang

und singt dazu, singt betrunken und hymnisch wie Dmitri Karamasoff sang.

Ueber diese Lieder lacht der Bürger beleidigt, der Heilige

und Seher hört sie mit Tränen."

402. "Datta, dayadhvam, damyata" (Give, sympathize, control). The fable of the meaning of the Thunder is found

in the Brihadaranyaka-Upanishad, 5, 1. A translation is found

in Deussen's Sechzig Upanishads des Veda, p. 489.

408. Cf. Webster, The White Devil, v. vi:

". .

. they'll remarry

Ere the worm pierce your winding-sheet, ere the spider

Make a thin curtain for your epitaphs."

412. Cf. Inferno, xxxiii. 46:

"ed io sentii chiavar l'uscio di sotto all'orribile torre."

Also F. H. Bradley, Appearance and Reality, p. 346:

"My external sensations are no less private to myself than are my

thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within

my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its

elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround

it. . . . In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul,

the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul."

425. V. Weston, From Ritual to Romance; chapter on the Fisher King.

428. V. Purgatorio, xxvi. 148.

"'Ara vos prec per aquella valor

'que vos guida al som de l'escalina,

'sovegna vos a temps de ma dolor.'

Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina."

429. V. Pervigilium Veneris. Cf. Philomela in Parts II and III.

430. V. Gerard de Nerval, Sonnet El Desdichado.

432. V. Kyd's Spanish Tragedy.

434. Shantih. Repeated as here, a formal ending to an Upanishad.

'The Peace which passeth understanding' is a feeble translation

of the content of this word.

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