The plate of gold

An peom

1. The Plate Of Gold

2. One day there fell in great Benares' temple-court A wondrous plate of gold, whereon these words were writ; "To him who loveth best, a gift from Heaven."

3.                                   Thereat . The priests made proclamation: "At the midday hour, Each day, let those assemble who for virtue deem their right to Heaven's gift the best; and we will hear the deeds of mercy done, and so adjudge."

4.                               The news ran swift as light, and soon from every quarter came nobles and munshis , hermits, scholars, holy men, and all renowned for gracious or for splendid deeds, meanwhile the priests in solemn council sat and heard what each had done to merit best the gift of Heaven. So for a year the claimants came and went . 

5.                                           At last, after a patient weighing of the worth of all, the priests bestowed the plate of gold on one who seemed, the largest lover of the race - whose whole estate, within the year had been parted among the poor. This man, all trembling with his joy, advanced to take the golden plate-when lo! at his finger's first touch it changed to basest lead! All stood aghast; but when the hapless claimant dropt it clanging on the floor,

6. Heaven's guerdon was again transformed to shining gold. So for another twelve month sat he priests and judged. Thrice they awarded-thrice did Heaven refuse the gift. Meanwhile a host of poor, maimed beggars in the street lay all about the temple gate, in hope to move that love whereby each claimant hoped to win the gift and well for them it was (if gold be charity), for every pilgrim to the temple gate praised God. that love might thus approve itself before the test, and so coins rained freely in the outstretched hands; but none of those who gave, so much as turned to look into the poor sad eyes of them that begged.

7. And now The second year had almost passed, but still the plate of gold, by whomsoever touched was turned to lead. At length there came a simple peasant-not aware of that strange contest for the gift of God-to pay a vow within the temple. As he passed along the line of shriveled beggars, all his soul was moved within him to sweet pity, and the tears well up and trembled in his eyes. 

8.                         Now by the temple gate there lay a poor, sore creature, blind, and shunned by all; but when the peasant came, and saw the sightless face and trembling, maimed hands he could not pass, but knelt, and took both palms in his, and softly said: "O thou, my brother! bear the trouble bravely. God is good." The he arose and walked straightway across the court, and entered where they wrangled of their deeds of love before the priests. 

9.                     A while he listened sadly; then had turned away; but something moved the priest who held the plate of gold to beckon to the peasant. So he came, not understanding and obeyed, and stretched  his hand and took the sacred vessel. Lo! it shone with thrice its former lustre , and amazed them all! "Son", cried the priest, "rejoice, the gift of God is thine . Thou lovest best!" And all made answer, "It is well." And, one by one, departed. But the peasant knelt and prayed, bowing his head above the golden plate; while o'er his soul like morning streamed the love of God.

10. Summary

11. One day a wonderful plate made of gold fell from Heaven into the court of a temple at Benares; and on the plate these words were inscribed: "A gift from Heaven to him who loves best." The priests at once made a proclamation that every day at twelve o'clock, all who would like to claim the plate should assemble at the temple, to have their kind deeds judged. Everyday for a whole year all kinds of holy men, hermits, scholars and nobles came, and related to the priests their deeds of charity, and the priests in solemn council heard their claims. At last they decided that the one who seemed to be the greatest lover of mankind was a rich man who had that very year given all his wealth to the poor. so they gave him the plate of gold. but when he took it in his hard, it turned to worthless, lead; though, when he dropped it in his amazement on to the floor, it became gold again. For another year claimants came; and the priests awarded the prize three times. But the same thing happened, showing that Heaven did not consider these men worthy of the gift. Meanwhile a large number of beggars came and lay about the temple gate, hoping that the claimants who came would give them alms to prove they were worthy of the golden plate. It was a good time for the beggars, because the pilgrims gave them plenty of money; but they gave them no sympathy, nor even a look of pity. At last a simple peasant, who had heard nothing about the plate of gold, came; and he was so touched by the sight of the miserable beggars, that he swept; and when, he saw a poor blind and maimed wretch at the temple gate, he knelt at his side and took his maimed hands in his and comforted him with kind words. When this peasant came to the temple, he was shocked to find it full of men boasting of their kind deeds and quarrelling with the priest. One priest, who held the golden plate in his hand, seeing the peasant standing there, beckoned to him; and the peasant came, and knowing nothing about the plate, took it in his hands. At once it shone out with three times its former spledour , and the priests said: "Son, the gift is yours: for you love best."

12. JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT (1784–1859) was the son of a clergyman from the West Indies. Like Lamb and Coleridge, he was educated at Christ’s Hospital in London, and began writing poetry while still a boy. He attracted attention early by his theatrical criticisms; and in 1808 he joined his brother in founding a weekly newspaper, the “Examiner.” During the thirteen years for which he contributed to this paper he exerted a wholesome influence in journalism, raising the tone of the press, showing great independence and tolerance, and fighting vigorously for liberal principles. He earned the distinction of two years’ imprisonment for telling plain truths about the Prince Regent; and his prosecution by the Government made him many distinguished friends. Some years later he went to Italy to join Shelley and Byron in the establishment of a new magazine; and it was on returning from Leghorn, where he had gone to meet Hunt, that Shelley was drowned. The new magazine was soon abandoned, Hunt returned to England, engaged in various periodical and other literary enterprises from which he seldom earned enough to meet his expenses, and struggled on cheerfully and courageously to the age of seventy-five.   1   Hunt’s poetry is pretty, fanciful, and musical, but, with the exception of one or two pieces, is now little read. Much of his prose work is merely highly-toned journalism, the interest of which has passed with its occasion. But among his familiar essays, from which the paper here printed is taken, there are many little masterpieces, suffused with his cheerful optimistic spirit, and expressed always gracefully and sometimes exquisitely. “No man,” says James Russell Lowell, “has ever understood the delicacies and luxuries of language better than he; and his thoughts often have all the rounded grace and shifting luster of a dove’s neck…. He was as pure-minded a man as ever lived, and a critic whose subtlety of discrimination and whose soundness of judgment, supported as it was on a broad basis of truly liberal scholarship, have hardly yet won fitting appreciation.”

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