THE JĀTAKA
OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS
BOOK VIII.—AṬṬHA-NIPĀTA.
No. 417.
KACCĀNI-JĀTAKA. 1
[422] "Robed in white," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling at Jetavana, concerning a man who supported his mother. The story is that the man was of good family and conduct in Sāvatthi: on his father's death he became devoted to his mother and tended her with the services of mouth-washing, teeth-cleansing, bathing, feet-washing and the like, and also by giving her gruel, rice and other food. She said to him, "Dear son, there are other duties in a householder's life: you must marry a maid of a suitable family, who will attend to me, and then you can do your proper work." "Mother, it is for my own good and pleasure that I wait on you: who else would wait on you so well?" "Son, you ought to do something to advance the fortune of our house." "I have no care for a householder's life; I will wait on you, and after you are dead and burned I will become an ascetic." She pressed him again and again: and at last, without winning him over or gaining his consent, she brought him a maid of a suitable family. He married and lived with her, because he would not oppose his mother. She observed the great attention with which her husband waited on his mother, and desirous of imitating it she too waited on her with care. Noticing his wife's devotion, he gave her thenceforth all the pleasant food he could get. As time went on she foolishly thought in her pride, "He gives me all the pleasant food he gets: he must be anxious to get rid [423] of his mother and I will find some means for doing so." So one day she said, "Husband, your mother scolds me when you leave the house." He said nothing. She thought, "I will irritate the old woman and make her disagreeable to her son": and thenceforth she gave her rice-gruel either very hot or very cold or very salt or saltless. When the old woman complained that it was too hot or too salt, she threw in cold water enough to fill the dish: and then on complaints of its being cold and saltless, she would make a great outcry, "Just now you said it was too hot and too salt: who can satisfy you?" So at the bath she would throw very hot water on the old woman's back: when she said, "Daughter, my back is burning," the other would throw some very cold water on her, and on complaints of this, she would make a story to the neighbours, "This woman said just now it was too hot, now she screams "it is too cold": who can endure her impudence?" If the old woman complained that her bed was full of fleas, she would take the bed out and shake her own bed over it and then bring it back declaring, "I've given it a shake": the good old lady, having twice as many fleas biting hernow, would spend the night sitting up and complain of being bitten all night; the other would retort, "Your bed was shaken yesterday and the day before too: who can satisfy all such a woman's needs?" To set the old woman's son against her, she would scatter phlegm and mucus and grey hairs here and there, and when he asked who was making the whole house so dirty, she would say, "Your mother does it; but if she is told not to do so, she makes an outcry: I can't stay in the same house with such an old witch: you must decide whether she stays or I." He hearkened to her and said, "Wife, you are yet young and can get a living wherever you go: but my mother is weak and I am her stay: go and depart to your own kin." When she heard this, she was afraid and thought, "He cannot break with his mother who is so very dear to him: but if I go to my old home, I shall have a miserable life of separation: I will conciliate my mother-in-law and tend her as of old": [424] and thenceforth she did so. One day that lay brother went to Jetavana to hear the law: saluting the Master he stood on one side. The Master asked him if he were not careless of his old duties, if he were dutiful in tending his mother. He answered, "Yes, Lord: my mother brought me a maid to wife against my will, she did such and such unseemly things," telling him all, "but the woman could not make me break with my mother, and now she tends her with all respect." The Master heard the story and said, "This time you would not do her bidding: but formerly you cast out your mother at her bidding and owing to me took her back again to your house and tended her": and at the man's request he told the tale of old.
The Bodhisatta was at that time Sakka, king of heaven; and the Bodhisattas are vigilant. At the instant he saw, in his survey of the world, that the poor old woman was making a death-offering to Right as if Right were dead. Wishing to shew his power in helping her, he came down disguised as a brahmin travelling on the high road: at sight of her he left the road and standing near her, began a conversation by saying, "Mother, people do not cook food in cemeteries: what are you going to do with this sesame and rice when cooked?" So he spoke the first stanza:—
Robed in white, with dripping hair,
Why, Kaccāni 1, boil the pot?
Washing rice and sesame there,
Will you use them when they're hot?
She spoke the second stanza to give him information:—Why, Kaccāni 1, boil the pot?
Washing rice and sesame there,
Will you use them when they're hot?
Brahmin, not for food will I
Use the sesame and the rice:
Right is dead; its memory
I would crown with sacrifice.
[426] Then Sakka spoke the third stanza:—Use the sesame and the rice:
Right is dead; its memory
I would crown with sacrifice.
Lady, think ere you decide:
Who has told you such a lie?
Strong in might and thousand-eyed
Perfect Right can never die.
Hearing him, the woman spoke two stanzas:—Who has told you such a lie?
Strong in might and thousand-eyed
Perfect Right can never die.
Brahmin, I have witness strong,
"Right is dead" I must believe:
All men now who follow wrong
Great prosperity receive.
"Right is dead" I must believe:
All men now who follow wrong
Great prosperity receive.
Barren once, my good son's spouse
Beats me, and she bears a son:
She is lady of our house,
I an outcast and undone.
Then Sakka spoke the sixth stanza:—Beats me, and she bears a son:
She is lady of our house,
I an outcast and undone.
2Nay, I live eternally;
’Twas for your sake that I came:
She beat you; but her son and she
Shall be ashes in my flame.
[427] Hearing him, she cried, "Alas, what say you? I will try
to save my grandson from death," and so she spoke the seventh stanza:—’Twas for your sake that I came:
She beat you; but her son and she
Shall be ashes in my flame.
King of gods, your will be done:
If for me you left the sky,
May my children and their son
Live with me in amity.
If for me you left the sky,
May my children and their son
Live with me in amity.
Then Sakka spoke the eighth stanza:—
Kātiyāni's will be done:
Beaten, you still on Right rely:
With your children and their son
Share one home in amity.
After saying this, Sakka, now in all his divine apparel, stood in
the air by his supernatural power and said, "Kaccāni, be not afraid: by my
power your son and daughter-in-law will come, and after getting your
forgiveness on the way will take you back with them: dwell with them in
peace:" then he went to his own place. By Sakka's power they bethought
themselves of her goodness, and making enquiry through the village they found
she had gone towards the cemetery. They went along the road calling for her:
when they saw her they fell at her feet, and asked and obtained her pardon for
their offence. She welcomed her grandson. So they all went home in delight and
thenceforth dwelt together.Beaten, you still on Right rely:
With your children and their son
Share one home in amity.
Joyful with her good son's wife
Kātiyāni then did dwell:
Indra pacified their strife,
Son and grandson tend her well.
This stanza is inspired by Perfect Wisdom.Kātiyāni then did dwell:
Indra pacified their strife,
Son and grandson tend her well.
Footnotes
253:1 See Morris, Folk-lore Journal, ii. p. 306.255:1 She is called Kātiyāni in the eighth stanza.
255:2 Sakka identifies himself with Right.
No. 418.
AṬṬHASADDA-JĀTAKA.
"A pool so deep," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning an indistinguishable terrific sound heard at midnight by the king of Kosala. The occasion is like that already described in the Lohakumbhi Birth 1. At this time however, when the king said, "Lord, what does the hearing of these sounds import to me?" the Master answered, "Great king, be not afraid: no danger shall befal you owing to these sounds: such terrible indistinguishablesounds have not been heard by you alone: kings of old also heard like sounds, and meant to follow the advice of brahmins to offer in sacrifice four animals of each species, but after hearing what wise men had to say, they set free the animals collected for sacrifice and caused proclamation by drum against all slaughter": and at the king's request, he told the old tale.
forehead to say, "I know?" If the king comes here to question me, I will tell him." The young brahmin went swiftly to the king's court, and when he was asked his business, he said, "Great king, a certain ascetic knows the issue of those sounds you heard: he is sitting on the royal seat in your garden, and says he will tell you if you ask him: you should do so." The king went swiftly, saluted the ascetic, and after friendly greeting he sat down and asked, "Is it true that you know the issue of the sounds I have heard?" "Yes, great king." "Then pray tell me." "Great king, there is no danger connected with those sounds: there is a certain crane in your old garden; it was without food, and half dead with hunger made the first sound:" and so by his knowledge giving precisely the crane's meaning he uttered the first stanza:—
A pool so deep and full of fish they
called this place of yore,
The crane-king's residence it was, my ancestors' before:
And though we live on frogs to-day, we never leave its shore.
"That, great king, was the sound the crane made in the pangs
of hunger: if you wish to set it free from hunger, have the garden cleaned and
fill the tank with water." The king told a minister to have this done.
"Great king, there is a female crow who lives in the doorway of your
elephant house: she made the second sound, grieving for her son: you need have
no fear from it," and so he uttered the second stanza:—The crane-king's residence it was, my ancestors' before:
And though we live on frogs to-day, we never leave its shore.
Oh! who of wicked Bandhura? the single
eye will rend
My nest, my nestlings and myself oh! who will now befriend?
[431] Then he asked the king for the name of the chief groom in
the elephant-house. "His name, sir, is Bandhura." "Has he only
one eye, O king?" "Yes, sir." "Great king, a certain crow
has built her nest over the doorway of your elephant-house; there she laid her
eggs, there her young in due time were hatched: every time the groom enters or
leaves the stable on his elephant, he strikes with his hook at the crow and her
nestlings, and destroys the nest: the crow in this distress wishes to tear his
eye and spoke as she did. If you are well-disposed to her, send for Bandhura
and prevent him from destroying the nest." The king sent for him, rebuked
and removed him, and gave the elephant to another.My nest, my nestlings and myself oh! who will now befriend?
"On the peak of your palace-roof, great king, there is a wood-insect; it bad eaten all the fig-wood there and could not eat the harder wood: lacking food and unable to get away, it made the third sound in lamentation: you need have no fear from it:" and so by his knowledge giving precisely the insect's meaning he spoke the third stanza:—
I've eaten all the fig-wood round as
far as it would go:
Hard wood a weevil liketh not, though other food runs low.
The king sent a servant and by some means had the weevil set free.Hard wood a weevil liketh not, though other food runs low.
"In your habitation, great king, is there a certain tame cuckoo?" "There is, sir." "Great king, that cuckoo was pining for the forest when it remembered its former life, "How can I leave this cage, and go to my dear forest?" and so made the fourth sound: you need have no fear from it: " and so he spoke the fourth stanza:—
[432]
Oh to leave this royal dwelling! oh to
gain my liberty,
Glad at heart to roam the wood, and build my nest upon the tree.
So saying, he added, "The cuckoo is pining, great king, set
her free." The king did so.Glad at heart to roam the wood, and build my nest upon the tree.
"Great king, is there a tame deer in your habitation?" "There is, sir." "He was chief of the herd: remembering his hind and pining for love of her he made the fifth sound: you need have no fear from it:" and he spoke the fifth stanza:—
Oh to leave this royal dwelling! oh to
gain my liberty,
Drink pure water of the fountain, lead the herd that followed me!
The Great Being caused this deer too to be set free and went on,
"Great king, is there a tame monkey in your habitation?" "There
is, sir." "He was chief of a herd in the Himālaya, and he was fond of
the society of female monkeys: he was brought here by a hunter named Bharata:
pining and longing for his old haunts he made the sixth sound: you need have no
fear from it," and he spoke the sixth stanza:—Drink pure water of the fountain, lead the herd that followed me!
Filled and stained was I with passions,
with desire infatuate,
Bharata the hunter took me; may I bring you happy fate!
The Great Being caused the monkey too to be set free, and went on,
"Great king, is there a gnome living in your habitation?" "There
is, sir." "He is thinking of what he did with his sylph [433] and in
the pain of desire made the seventh sound. One day he had climbed the peak of a
high mountain with her: they plucked and decked themselves with many flowers of
choice hue and scent, and never noticed that the sun was setting; darkness fell
as they were descending. The sylph said, "Husband, it is dark, come down
carefully without stumbling," and taking him by the hand, she led him
down. It was in memory of her words that he made the sound: you need have no
fear from it." By his knowledge he stated and made known the circumstance
precisely, and spoke the seventh stanza:—Bharata the hunter took me; may I bring you happy fate!
When the darkness gathered thickly on
the mountain summit lone,
"Stumble not," she gently warned me, "with thy foot against a stone."
So the Great Being explained why the gnome had made the sound, and
caused him to be set free, and went on, "Great king, there was an eighth
sound, one of ecstasy. A certain paccekabuddha in the Nandamūla cave knowing
that the conditions of life were now at an end for him came to"Stumble not," she gently warned me, "with thy foot against a stone."
the abode of man, thinking, "I will enter into Nirvāna in the king of Benares' park: his servants will bury me, and hold sacred festival and venerate my relics and so attain heaven:" he was coming by his supernatural power and just as he reached your palace-roof, he threw off the burden of life and sung in ecstasy the song that lights up the entrance into the city of Nirvāna:" and so he spoke the stanza uttered by the paccekabuddha:
[434]
Surely I see the end of birth,
I ne’er again the womb shall see:
My last existence on the earth
Is o’er, and all its misery.
"With these words of ecstasy he reached your park and passed
into Nirvāna at the foot of a sál-tree in full flower: come, great king, and
perform his funeral rites." So the Great Being took the king to the place
where the paccekabuddha entered into Nirvāna and shewed him the body. Seeing
the body, the king with a great army paid honour with perfumes and flowers and
the like. By the Bodhisatta's advice he stopped the sacrifice, gave all the creatures
their lives, made proclamation by drum through the city that there should be no
slaughter, caused sacred festival to be held for seven days, had the
paccekabuddha's body burnt with great honour on a pyre heaped with perfumes and
made a stupa where four high roads meet. The Bodhisatta preached righteousness
to the king and exhorted him to diligence: then he went to the Himālaya and
there did works in the Perfect States, and without a break in his meditations
became destined for the Brahma Heaven.I ne’er again the womb shall see:
My last existence on the earth
Is o’er, and all its misery.
Footnotes
256:1 See supra, p. 29.257:1 As an emblem of pride, as in the Bible.
No. 419.
SULASĀ-JĀTAKA.
[435] "Here is a golden necklace," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning a female servant of Anāthapiṇḍika. The story is that one feast-day, when she was going with a number of fellow-servants to a pleasure-garden, she asked her mistress Paṇṇalakkhaṇadevī for an ornament to wear.Her mistress gave her an ornament of her own, worth a hundred thousand pieces. She put it on and went along with the other servants to the pleasure-garden. A certain thief coveted the ornament, and with the design of killing her and taking it he began talking to her, and in the garden he gave her fish, flesh and strong drink. "He does it, I suppose, because he desires me," she thought, and at evening when the others lay down to rest after their sports, she rose and went to him. He said, "Mistress, this place is not private; let us go a little farther." She thought, 1"Anything private can be done in this place: no doubt he must be anxious to kill me and take what I am wearing: I'll teach him a lesson:" so she said, "Master, I am dry owing to the strong drink: get me some water," and taking him to a well asked him to draw some water, shewing him the rope and bucket. The thief let down the bucket. Then as he was stooping to draw up the water, the girl, who was very strong, pushed him hard with both hands and threw him into the well. "You won't die that way," she said, and threw a large brick upon his head. He died on the spot. When she came back to the town and gave her mistress the ornament, she said, "I have very nearly been killed to-day for that ornament," and told the whole story. The mistress told Anāthapiṇḍika, and he told the Tathāgata. The Master said, "Householder, this is not the first time that servant girl has been endowed with wits rising to the occasion; she was so before also: it is not the first time she killed that man; she did it once before," and at Anāthapiṇḍika's request, he told the tale of old.
not do to send it: let us both go and present it, wearing all our ornaments and with a great retinue." "Very well, husband, we'll do so." He made her prepare the offering and when they reached the mountain-foot, he said, "Dear, the deity, seeing this crowd of people, will not accept the offering; let us two go up and present it." She consented, and he made her carry the vessel. He was himself armed to the teeth, and when they reached the top, he set the offering [437] at the foot of a tree which grew beside a precipice a hundred times as high as a man, and said, "Dear, I have not come to present the offering, I have come with the intention of killing you and going away with all your ornaments: take them all off and make a bundle of them in your outer garment." "Husband, why would you kill met" "For your money." "Husband, remember the good I have done you: when you were being hauled along in chains, I gave up a rich man's son for you and paid a large sum and saved your life: though I might get a thousand pieces a day, I never look at another man: such a benefactress I am to you: do not kill me, I will give you much money and he your slave." With these entreaties she spoke the first stanza:—
Here is a golden necklace, and emeralds
and pearls,
Take all and welcome: give me place among thy servant girls.
When Sattuka had spoken the second stanza in accordance with his
purpose, to wit—Take all and welcome: give me place among thy servant girls.
Fair lady, lay thy jewels down and do
not weep so sore
I'll kill thee: else I can't be sure thou’lt give me all thy store:—
Sulasā's wits rose to the occasion, and thinking, "This
robber will not give me my life, but I'll take his life first by throwing him
down the precipice in some way," she spoke the two stanzas:—I'll kill thee: else I can't be sure thou’lt give me all thy store:—
Within my years of sense, within my
conscious memory,
No man on earth, I do protest, have I loved more than thee.
Come hither, for my last salute, receive my last embrace:No man on earth, I do protest, have I loved more than thee.
For never more upon the earth shall we meet face to face.
Sattuka could not see her purpose, so he said, "Very well, dear; come and embrace me." Sulasā walked round him in respectful salutation three times, kissed him, and saying, "Now, husband, I am going [438] to make obeisance to you on all four sides," she put her head on his foot, did obeisance at his sides, and went behind him as if to do obeisance there: then with the strength of an elephant she took him by the hinder parts and threw him head over heels down that place of destruction a hundred times as high as a man. He was crushed to pieces and died on the spot. Seeing this deed, the deity who lived on the mountain-top spoke these stanzas:—
Wisdom at times is not confined to men
A woman can chew wisdom now and then.
A woman can chew wisdom now and then.
Wisdom at times is not confined to men:
Women are quick in counsel now and then.
How quick and keen she was the way to know,Women are quick in counsel now and then.
She slew him like a deer with full-stretched bow.
He that to great occasion fails to rise
Falls, like that dull thief from the precipice.
One prompt a crisis in his fate to see,
Like her, is saved from threatening enemy.
So Sulasā killed the robber. When she descended from the mountain and came among her attendants, they asked where her husband was. "Don't ask me," she said, and mounting her chariot she went on to the city.
Footnotes
261:1 Omitting na, with other MSS.261:2 See supra, p. 40.
No. 420.
SUMAṄGALA-JĀTAKA.
"Conscious of an angry frown," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling at Jetavana, concerning the admonition of a king. On this occasion the Master, at the king's request, told the tale of old.and day, gave him the park-keeper Sumaṅgala as attendant, and went back to the town. After that the paccekabuddha had meals constantly in the palace and lived there a long time: Sumaṅgala respectfully attended on him. One day he went away, saying to Sumaṅgala, "I am going to such and such a village for a few days, but will come back: inform the king." Sumaṅgala informed the king. After a few days' stay in that village the paccekabuddha came back to the park in the evening after sunset. [440] Sumaṅgala, not knowing of his arrival, had gone to his own house. The paccekabuddha put away his bowl and robe, and after a little walk sat down on a stone-slab. That day some strange guests had come to the park-keeper's house. To get them soup and curry he had gone with a bow to kill a tame deer in the park: he was there looking for a deer when he saw the paccekabuddha and thinking he was a great deer, he aimed an arrow and shot him. The paccekabuddha uncovered his head and said, "Sumaṅgala." Greatly moved Sumaṅgala said, "Sir, I knew not of your coming and shot you, thinking you were a deer: forgive me." "Very well, but what will you do now? Come, pull out the arrow." He made obeisance and pulled it out. The paccekabuddha felt great pain and passed into nirvāna then and there. The park-keeper thought the king would not pardon him if he knew: he took his wife and children and fled. By supernatural power the whole city heard that the paccekabuddha had entered nirvāna, and all were greatly excited. Next day some men entered the park, saw the body and told the king that the park-keeper had fled after killing the paccekabuddha. The king went with a great retinue and for seven days paid honour to the body: then with all ceremony he took the relics, built a shrine, and doing honour to it went on ruling his kingdom righteously. After a year, Sumaṅgala determined to find out what the king thought: he came and asked a minister whom he saw to find out what the king thought of him. The minister praised Sumaṅgala before the king: but he was as if he heard not. The minister said no more, but told Sumaṅgala that the king was not pleased with him. After another year he came, and again in the third year he brought his wife and children. The minister knew the king was appeased [441], and setting Sumaṅgala at the palace-door told the king of his coming. The king sent for him, and after greeting said, "Sumaṅgala, why did you kill that paccekabuddha, through whom I was gaining merit?" "O king, I did not mean to kill him, but it was in this way that I did the deed," and he told the story. The king bade him have no fear, and reassuring him made him park-keeper again. Then the minister asked, "O king, why did you make no answer when you heard Sumaṅgala's praises twice, and on the third hearing why did you send for him and forgive him?" The king said, "Dear sir, it is wrong for a king to do anything hastily in his anger: therefore I was silent at first and the third time when I
knew I was appeased I sent for Sumaṅgala": and so he spoke these stanzas to declare the duty of a king:—
Conscious of an angry frown,
Ne’er let king stretch out his rod:
Things unworthy of a crown
Then would follow from his nod.
Conscious of a milder mood,Ne’er let king stretch out his rod:
Things unworthy of a crown
Then would follow from his nod.
Let him judgments harsh decree,
When the case is understood,
Fix the proper penalty:
Self nor others will he vex,
Clearly parting right from wrong:
Though his yoke is on men's necks,
Virtue holds him high and strong.
Princes reckless in their deed
Ply the rod remorselessly,
Ill repute is here their meed,
Hell awaits them when they die.
[442] They who love the saintly law,
Pure in deed and word and thought,
Filled with kindness, calm and awe,
Pass through both worlds as they ought.
King am I, my people's lord;
Anger shall not check my bent:
When to vice I take the sword,
Pity prompts the punishment.
[443] So the king declared his own good qualities in six stanzas: his whole court were pleased and declared his merits in the words, "Such excellence in moral practices and qualities is worthy of your majesty." Sumaṅgala, after the court had finished speaking, saluted the king, and after obeisance spoke three stanzas in the king's praise:—
Such thy glory and thy power;
Ne’er resign them for an hour:
Free from anger, free from fears,
Reign in joy a hundred years.
Prince, whom all those virtues bless,Ne’er resign them for an hour:
Free from anger, free from fears,
Reign in joy a hundred years.
Mild and bland, but firm in worth,
Rule the world with righteousness,
Pass to heaven when freed from earth.
True in word, in action good,
Take the means thy end to gain:
Calm the troubled multitude,
As a cloud with genial rain.
No. 421.
GAṄGAMĀLA-JĀTAKA.
"The earth's like coals," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning the keeping of the weekly holy days. One day the Master was addressing the lay-brethren who were keeping the holy days and said, "Lay-brethren, your conduct is good; when men keep the holy days they should give alms, keep the moral precepts, never show anger, feel kindness and do the duties of the day: wise men of old gained great glory from even a partial keeping of the holy days: " and at their request he told the tale of old.many people of moral conduct:" so he went and asked the merchant if the fast could be kept at all by undertaking the duties of the day at that hour. He told him that the whole duty could not be done, because it had not been undertaken in the morning; but half the duty could be done. "So far be it," he answered, and undertaking the duty in his master's presence he began to keep the fast, and going to his own abode he lay meditating on the precepts. He had taken no food all day, and in the last watch he felt pain like a spear-wound. The merchant brought him various remedies and told him to eat them: but he said, "I will not break my fast: I have undertaken it though it cost my life." [446] The pain became intense and at sunrise he was losing consciousness. They told him he was dying, and taking him out they set him in a place of retirement. At this moment the king of Benares in a noble chariot with a great retinue bad reached that spot in a progress round the city. The Bodhisatta, seeing the royal splendour, felt a desire for royalty and prayed for it. Dying, he was conceived again, in consequence of keeping half the fast-day, in the womb of the chief queen. She went through the ceremony of pregnancy, and bore a son after ten months. He was named prince Udaya. When he grew up he became perfect in all sciences: by his memory of previous births he knew his former action of merit, and thinking it was a great reward for a little action he sang the song of ecstasy again and again. At his father's death he gained the kingdom, and observing his own great glory he sang the same song of ecstasy. One day they made ready for a festival in the city. A great multitude were intent on amusement. A certain water-carrier who lived by the north gate of Benares had hid a half-penny in a brick in a boundary wall. He cohabited with a poor woman who also made her living by carrying water. She said to him, "My lord, there is a festival in the town: if you have any money, let us enjoy ourselves." "I have, dear." "How much?" "A half-penny." "Where is it?" "In a brick by the north gate, twelve leagues from here I leave my treasure: but have you got anything in hand?" "I have." "How much?" "A half-penny." "So yours and mine together make a whole penny: we'll buy a garland with one part of it, perfume with another, and strong drink with a third: go and fetch your half-penny from where you put it." [447] He was delighted to catch the idea suggested by his wife's words, and saying, "Don't trouble, dear, I will fetch it," he set out. The man was as strong as an elephant: he went more than six leagues, and though it was mid-day and he was treading on sand as hot as if it were strewn with coals just off the flame, he was delighted with the desire of gain and in 1 old yellow clothes with a palm-leaf fastened in his ear he went by the palace court in pursuit of his purpose, singing a
song. King Udaya stood at an open window, and seeing him coming wondered who it was, who disregarding such wind and heat went singing for joy, and sent a servant to call him up. "The king calls for you," he was told: but he said, "What is the king to me? I don't know the king." He was taken by force and stood on one side. Then the king spoke two stanzas in enquiry:—
The earth's like coals, the ground like
embers hot:
You sing your song, the great heat burns you not.
The sun on high, the sand below are hot:You sing your song, the great heat burns you not.
You sing your song, the great heat burns you not.
Hearing the king's words he spoke the third stanza:—
’Tis these desires that burn, and not
the sun:
’Tis all these pressing tasks that must be done.
[448] The king asked what his business was. He answered, "O
king, I was living by the south gate with a poor woman: she proposed that she
and I should amuse ourselves at the festival and asked if I had anything in
hand: I told her I had a treasure stored inside a wall by the north gate: she
sent me for it to help us to amuse ourselves: those words of hers never leave
my heart and as I think of them hot desire burns me: that is my business."
"Then what delights you so much that you disregard wind and sun, and sing
as you go?" "O king, I sing to think that when I fetch my treasure I
shall amuse myself along with her." "Then, my good man, is your
treasure, hidden by the north gate, a hundred thousand pieces?" "Oh
no." Then the king asked in succession if it were fifty thousand, forty,
thirty, twenty, ten, five, four, three, two gold pieces, one piece, half a
piece, a quarter piece, four pence, three, two, one penny. The man said
"No" to all these questions and then, "It is a half-penny:
indeed, O king, that is all my treasure: but I am going in hopes of fetching it
and then amusing myself with her: and in that desire and delight the wind and sun
do not annoy me." The king said, "My good man, don't go there in such
a heat: I will give you a half-penny." "O king, I will take you at
your word and accept it, but I won't lose the other: I won't give up going
there and fetching it too." "My good man, stay here: I'll give you a
penny, two pence:" then offering more and more he went on to a crore, a
hundred crores, boundless wealth, if the man would stay. But he always
answered, "O king, I'll take it, but I'll fetch the other too." Then
he was tempted by offers of posts as treasurer and posts of various kinds and
the position of viceroy: at last he was offered half the kingdom [449] if he
would stay. Then he consented. The king said to his ministers, "Go, have
my friend shaved and bathed and adorned, and bring him back." They did so.
The king divided his kingdom in two and gave him half: but they say that he
took the northern half from’Tis all these pressing tasks that must be done.
love of his half-penny. He was called king Half-penny. They ruled the kingdom in friendship and harmony. One day they went to the park together. After amusing themselves, king Udaya lay down with his head in king Half-penny's lap. He fell asleep, while the attendants were going here and there enjoying their amusements. King Half-penny thought, "Why should I always have only half the kingdom? I will kill him and be sole king:" so he drew his sword, but thinking to strike him remembered that the king had made him, when poor and mean, his partner and set him in great power, and that the thought which had risen in his mind to kill such a benefactor was a wicked one: so he sheathed the sword. A second and a third time the same thought rose. Feeling that this thought, rising again and again, would lead him on to the evil deed, he threw the sword on the ground and woke the king. "Pardon me, O king," he said and fell at his feet. "Friend, you have done me no wrong." "I have, O great king: I did such and such a thing." "Then, friend, I pardon you: if you desire it, be sole king, and I will serve under you as viceroy." He answered, "O king, I have no need of the kingdom, such a desire will cause me to be reborn in evil states: the kingdom is yours, take it: I will become an ascetic: I have seen the root of desire, it grows from a man's wish, [450] from henceforth I will have no such wish," and so in ecstasy he spoke the fourth stanza:—
I have seen thy roots, Desire: in a
man's own will they lie.
I will no more wish for thee, and thou, Desire, shalt die.
So saying, he spoke the fifth stanza declaring the law unto a
great multitude devoted to desires:—I will no more wish for thee, and thou, Desire, shalt die.
Little desire is not enough, and much
but brings us pain:
Ah! foolish men: be sober, friends, if ye would wisdom gain.
So declaring the law unto the multitude, he entrusted the realm to
king Udaya: leaving the weeping multitude with tears on their faces, he went to
the Himālaya, became an ascetic and reached perfect insight. At the time of his
becoming an ascetic, king Udaya spoke the sixth stanza in complete expression
of ecstasy:—Ah! foolish men: be sober, friends, if ye would wisdom gain.
Little desire has brought me all the
fruit,
Great is the glory Udaya acquires;
Mighty the gain if one is resolute
To be a Brother and forsake desires.
[451] No one knew the meaning of this stanza. One day the chief
queen asked him the meaning of it. The king would not tell. There was a certain
court-barber, called Gangamāla, who when attending to the king used to use the
razor first, and then grasp the hairs with his tweezers. 1Great is the glory Udaya acquires;
Mighty the gain if one is resolute
To be a Brother and forsake desires.
The king liked the first operation, but the second gave him pain: at the first he would have given the barber a boon, at the second he would have cut his head off. One day he told the queen about it, saying that their court-barber was a fool: when she asked what he ought to do, he answered, "Use the tweezers first and the razor afterwards." She sent for the barber and said, "My good man, when you are trimming the king's beard you ought to take his hairs with your tweezers first and use the razor afterwards: then if the king offers you a boon, you must say you don't want anything else, but wish to know the meaning of his song: if you do, I will give you much money." He agreed. On the next day when he was trimming the king's beard, he took the tweezers first. The king said, "Gangamāla, is this a new fashion of yours?" "O king," he answered, "barbers have got a new fashion;" and he grasped the king's hair with the tweezer first, using the razor afterwards. The king offered him a boon. "O king, I do not want anything else; tell me the meaning of your song." The king was ashamed to tell what his occupation had been in his days of poverty, and said, "My good man, what is the use of such a boon to you? Choose something else:" but the barber begged for it. The king feared to break his word and agreed. As described in the Kummāsapiṇḍa Birth 1 he made all arrangements and seated on a jewelled throne, told the whole story of his former act of merit in his last existence in that city. " That explains," he said, "half the stanza: for the rest, my comrade became an ascetic: I in my pride am sole king now [452], and that explains the second half of my song of ecstasy." Hearing him the barber thought, "So the king got this glory for keeping half a fast day: virtue is the right course: what if I were to become an ascetic and work out my own salvation?" He left all his relatives and worldly goods, gained the king's permission to become religious and going to the Himālaya he became an ascetic, realised the three qualities of mundane things, gained perfect insight, and became a paccekabuddha. He had a bowl and robes made by supernatural power. After spending five or six years on the mountain Gangamāla he wished to see the king of Benares, and passing through the air to the royal park there, he sat on the royal stone seat. The park-keeper told the king that Gangamāla, now a paccekabuddha, had come through the air and was sitting in the park. The king went at once to salute the paccekabuddha: and the queen-mother went out with her son. The king entered the park, saluted him and sat on one side with his retinue. The paccekabuddha spoke to him in a friendly manner, "Brahmadatta" (calling him by the name of the family), "are you diligent, ruling the kingdom righteously, doing charitable and other good works?" The queen-mother was angry. "This low-caste shampooing son of a
barber does not know his place: he calls my kingly high-descended son Brahmadatta," and she spoke the seventh stanza:—
Penance forsooth makes men forsake
their sins,
Their barber's, potter's, stations every one:
Through penance Gangamāla glory wins,
And "Brahmadatta" now he calls my son.
[453] The king checked his mother and declaring the qualities of
the paccekabuddha, he spoke the eighth stanza:—Their barber's, potter's, stations every one:
Through penance Gangamāla glory wins,
And "Brahmadatta" now he calls my son.
Lo! how, e’er his death befall,
Meekness brings a man its fruit!
One who bowed before us all,
Kings and lords must now salute.
Though the king checked his mother, the rest of the multitude rose
up and said, "It is not decent that such a low-caste person should speak
to you by name in that way." The king rebuked the multitude, and spoke the
last stanza to declare the virtues of the paccekabuddha:—Meekness brings a man its fruit!
One who bowed before us all,
Kings and lords must now salute.
Scorn not Gangamāla so,
Perfect in religion's ways:
He has crossed the waves of woe,
Free from sorrow now he strays.
So saying the king saluted the paccekabuddha and asked him to
forgive the queen-mother. The paccekabuddha did so and the king's retinue also
gained his forgiveness. The king wished him to promise that he would stay in
the neighbourhood: but he refused, and standing in the air before the eyes of
the whole court he admonished the king and went away to GandhamādanaPerfect in religion's ways:
He has crossed the waves of woe,
Free from sorrow now he strays.
.
[454] After the lesson the Master said, "Lay-brethren, you
see how keeping the fast is proper to be done," and he identified the
Birth: "At that time the paccekabuddha entered into nirvāna, king
Half-penny was Ānanda, the chief queen was the mother of Rāhula, king Udaya was
myself."Footnotes
266:1 The Pali text here is wrongly punctuated.267:1 nantaka as in p. 22. 1: the palm-leaf is used as an ear-ornament.
269:1 Cf. Cullavagga, v. 27.
270:1 See supra, p. 247.
No. 422.
CETIYA-JĀTAKA.
"Injured Right can injure sorely," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling at Jetavana, concerning Devadatta's being swallowed up by the earth. On that day they were discussing in the Hall of Truth how Devadatta had spokenfalsely, had sunk into the ground and become destined to the hell Avīci. The Master came and, hearing the subject of their talk, said, "This is not the first time he sank into the earth," and so he told the tale of old.
"When will you do it, O king?" [456] "On the seventh day from this." The story went round the city, "The king is going by a lie to make the senior the junior, and will give the post to the junior: what kind of a thing is a lie? is it blue or yellow or some other colour?" The multitude thought greatly about it. It was a time, they say, when the world told the truth: men did not know what the word "lie" might mean. The priest's son heard the tale and told his father, "Father, they say the king is going by a lie to make you junior and to give our post to my uncle." "My dear, the king will not be able even by a lie to take our post from us: on what day is he going to do it?" "On the seventh day from this, they say." "Let me know when the time comes." On the seventh day a great multitude gathered in the king's courtyard sitting in rows above rows, hoping to see a lie. The young priest went and told his father. The king was ready in full dress, he appeared and stood in the air in the courtyard amid the multitude The ascetic came through the air, spread his skin-seat before the king, sat on his throne in the air and said, "Is it true, O king, that you wish by a lie to make the junior senior and to give him the post?" "Master, I have done so." Then he admonished the king, "O great king, a lie is a grievous destruction of good qualities, it causes rebirth in the four evil states; a king who makes a lie destroys right, and by destroying right he is himself destroyed:" and he spoke the first stanza:—
Injured Right can injure sorely, and
requite with injury;
Therefore Right should ne’er be injured, lest the harm recoil on thee
[457] Admonishing him farther he said, "Great king, if you
make a lie, your four supernatural powers will disappear," and he spoke
the second stanza:—Therefore Right should ne’er be injured, lest the harm recoil on thee
The powers divine forsake and leave the
man who tells a lie,
Ill smells his mouth, he cannot keep his foothold in the sky:
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
Hearing this, the king in fear looked to Korakalambaka. He said,
"Be not afraid, O king; did I not tell you so from the first?" and so
forth. The king, though he heard Kapila's words, still put forward his
statement, "Sir, you are the younger, Korakalambaka is the elder." At
the moment when he uttered this lie, the four angels said they would guard such
a liar no longer, threw their swords at his feet and disappeared; his mouth was
fetid like a broken rotten egg and his body like an open drain; and falling
from the air he lighted on the earth: so all his four supernatural powers
disappeared. His chief priest said, "Great king, be not afraid: if you
will speak the truth, I will restore you everything," and so he spoke the
third stanza:—Ill smells his mouth, he cannot keep his foothold in the sky:
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
A word of truth, and all thy gifts, O
king, thou shalt regain:
A lie will fix thee in the soil of Ceti to remain.
A lie will fix thee in the soil of Ceti to remain.
[458] He said, "Look, O great king: those four supernatural powers of yours disappeared first by your lie: consider, for it is possible now to restore them." But the king answered, "You wish to deceive me in this," and so telling a second lie he sank in the earth up to the ankles. Then the brahmin said once more, "Consider, O great king," and spoke the fourth stanza:—
Drought comes on him in time of rain,
rain when it should be dry,
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
Then once again he said, "Owing to your lying you are sunk in
the earth up to the ankles: consider, O great king," and spoke the fifth
stanza:—Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
One word of truth, and all thy gifts, O
king, thou shalt regain:
A lie will sink thee in the soil of Ceti to remain.
But for the third time the king said, "You are junior and
Korakalambaka is elder," and at this lie he sank in the ground up to the
knees. Once more the brahmin said, "Consider, O great king," and
spoke two stanzas:—A lie will sink thee in the soil of Ceti to remain.
O king, the man is forked of tongue,
and like a serpent sly,
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
One word of truth, and all thy gifts, O king, thou shalt regain:Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
A lie will sink thee deeper still in Ceti to remain.
adding, "Even now all may be restored." The king, not heeding his words, repeated the lie for the fourth time, "You are junior, Sir, and Korakalambaka is elder," [459] and at these words he sank up to the hips. Again the brahmin said, "Consider, O great king," and spoke two stanzas:—
O king, that man is like a fish, and
tongueless he shall be,
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
One word of truth, and all thy gifts, O king, thou shalt regain:Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
A lie will sink thee deeper still in Ceti to remain.
For the fifth time the king repeated the lie, and as he did so he sank up to the navel. The brahmin once more appealed to him to consider, and spoke two stanzas:—
Girls only shall be born of him, no
man-son shall he see,
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
One word of truth, and all thy gifts, O king, thou shalt regain:Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
A lie will sink thee deeper still in Ceti to remain.
The king paid no heed, and repeating the lie for the sixth time sank up to the breast. The brahmin made his appeal once more and spoke two stanzas:—
His children will not stay with him, on
every side they flee,
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
Whoe’er to questioning replies with falsehood wilfully.
One word of truth, and all thy gifts, O
king, thou shalt regain:
A lie will sink thee deeper still in Ceti to remain.
Owing to association with a wicked friend, he disregarded the
words and repeated the same lie for the seventh time. Then the earth opened and
the flames of Avīci leapt up and seized him.A lie will sink thee deeper still in Ceti to remain.
Cursed by a sage, the king who once
could walk the air, they say,
Was lost and swallowed by the earth on his appointed day.
Wherefore the wise do not approve at allWas lost and swallowed by the earth on his appointed day.
When that desire into the heart doth fall:
He that is free from guile, whose heart is pure,
All that he says is ever firm and sure.
These are two stanzas inspired by Perfect Wisdom.
After the lesson, the Master said, "So, Brethren, this is not the first time that Devadatta has told a lie and sunk in the earth," and then he identified the Birth: "At that time the king of Ceti was Devadatta, and the brahmin Kapila was myself."
Footnotes
272:1 In years, 1 followed by 140 ciphers.272:2 A lie was a new thing in the first age.
275:1 With tusks, trunk, and four legs.
275:2 Another reading is pañcacakkam, "five wheels."
No. 423.
INDRIYA-JĀTAKA.
"Who through desire," etc. The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning temptation by the wife of one's former days. The story is that a young man of good family at Sāvatthi heard the Master's preaching, and thinking it impossible to lead a holy life, perfectly complete and pure, as a householder, he determined to become an ascetic under the saving doctrine and so make an end of misery. So he gave up his house and property to his wife and children, and asked the Master to ordain him. The Master did so. As he was the junior in his going about for alms with his teachers and instructors, and as the Brethren were many, he got no chair either in laymen's houses or in the refectory, but only a stool or a bench at the end of the novices, his food was tossed him hastily on a ladle, he got gruel made of broken lumps of rice, solid food stale or decaying, or sprouts dried and burnt; and this was not enough to keep him alive. [462] He took what he had got to the wife he had left: she took his bowl, saluted him, emptied it and gave him instead well-cooked gruel and rice with sauce and curry. The Brother was captivated by the love of such flavours and could not leave his wife. She thought she would test his affection. One day she had a countryman cleansed with white clay and set down in her house with some others of his people whom she had sent for, and she gave them something to eat and drink. They sat eating and enjoying it. At the house-door she had some bullocks bound to wheels and a cart set ready. She herself sat in a back room cooking cakes. Her husband came and stood at the door. Seeing him, one old servant told his mistress that there was an elder at the door. "Salute him and bid him pass on." But though he did so repeatedly, he saw the priest remaining there and told his mistress. She came, and lifting up the curtain to see, she cried, "This is the father of my sons." She came out and saluted him: taking his bowl and making him enter she gave him food: when he had eaten she saluted again and said, "Sir, you are a saint now: we have been staying in this house all this time; but there can be no proper householder's life without a master, so we will take another house and go far into the country: be zealous in your good works, and forgive me if I am doing wrong." For a time her husband was as if his heart would break. Then he said, "I cannot leave you: do not go, I will come back to my worldly life: send a layman's garment to such and such a place, I will give up my bowl and robes and come back to you." She agreed. The Brother went to his monastery, and giving up his bowl and robes to his teachers and instructors he explained, in answer to their questions, that he could not leave his wife and was going back to worldly life. Against his will they took him to the Master and told him that he was backsliding and wished to go back to worldly life. The Master said, "Is this tale true?" "It is, Lord." "Who causes you to backslide?" "My wife." "Brother, that woman is the cause of evil to you: formerly also through her you fell from the four stages of mystic meditationand became very miserable: then through me you were delivered from your misery and regained the power of meditation you had lost," and then he told the tale of old.
Who through desire obeys the senses'
sway,
Loses both worlds and pines his life away.
Loses both worlds and pines his life away.
Hearing him, Nārada answered, "Teacher, the following of desires is happiness: why do you call such happiness misery?" Sarabhaṅga said, "Listen, then," and spoke the second stanza:—
Happiness and misery ever on each
other's footsteps press:
Thou hast seen their alternation: seek a truer happiness.
[465] Nārada said, "Teacher, such misery is hard to bear, I
cannot endure it." The Great Being said, "Nārada, the misery that
comes has to be endured," and spoke the third stanza:—Thou hast seen their alternation: seek a truer happiness.
He who endures in troublous time with
troubles to contend
Is strong to reach that final bliss where all our troubles end.
But Nārada answered, "Teacher, the happiness of love's desire
is the greatest happiness: I cannot abandon it." The Great Being said,
"Virtue is not to be abandoned for any cause," and spoke the fourth
stanza:—Is strong to reach that final bliss where all our troubles end.
[466]
For love of lusts, for hopes of gain,
for miseries, great and small,
Do not undo your saintly past, and so from virtue fall.
Sarabhaṅga having thus
shown forth the law in four stanzas, Kāḷadevala
in admonition of his younger brother spoke the fifth stanza:—Do not undo your saintly past, and so from virtue fall.
Know 1 the worldly life is trouble, victual should be freely lent.
No delight in gathering riches, no distress when they are spent.
No delight in gathering riches, no distress when they are spent.
So far Black 2 Devala most wisely spoke:
"None worse than he who bows to senses' yoke."
"None worse than he who bows to senses' yoke."
the five kinds of weapons he went to the Himālaya and killed and ate many deer. In the Himālaya region he found a great defile, surrounded by mountains, on the banks of the river Vidhavā, and there he lived on the flesh of the slain deer, cooked on hot coals. He thought, "I shall not always be strong; when I grow weak I shall not be able to range the forest: now I will drive many kinds of wild animals into this defile, close it up by a gate, and then without roaming the forest I shall kill and eat them at my pleasure:" and so he did. As time passed over him, that very thing came to pass, and the experience of all the world befell him: he lost control over his hands and feet, he could not move freely here and there, he could not find his food or drink, his body withered, he became the ghost of a man, he showed wrinkles furrowing his body like the earth in a hot season; ill-favoured and ill-knit, he became very miserable. In like manner as time passed, the king of Sivi, named Sivi, had a desire to eat flesh roasted on coals in the forest: so he gave over his kingdom to his ministers, and with the five kinds of weapons he went to the forest and ate the flesh of the deer he slew: in time he came to that spot and saw that man. Although afraid, he summoned courage to ask who he was. "Lord, I am the ghost of a man, reaping the fruit of the deeds I have done: who are you?" "The king of Sivi." "Why have you come hither?" [468] "To eat the flesh of deer." He said, "Great king, I have become the ghost of a man because I came here with that object," and telling the whole story at length and explaining his misfortune to the king, he spoke the remaining stanzas:—
King, ’tis with me as if I'd been with
foes in bitter strife,
Labour, and skill in handicraft, a peaceful home, a wife,
All have been lost to me: my works bear fruit in this my life.
Worsted a thousandfold I am, kinless and reft of stay,Labour, and skill in handicraft, a peaceful home, a wife,
All have been lost to me: my works bear fruit in this my life.
Strayed from the law of righteousness, like ghost I'm fallen away.
This state is mine because I caused, instead of joy, distress:
Girt as it were with flaming fire, I have no happiness.
[469] With that he added, "O king, through desire of happiness I caused misery to others and have even in this life become the ghost of a man: do not thou commit evil deeds, go to thine own city and do good deeds of charity and the like." The king did so and completed the path to heaven.
Footnotes
278:1 The Scholiast takes sadha with all the clauses: the meaning then would be
Good are the cares of household life,
’tis good to give away,
Not to be proud when riches grow, nor grieved when they decay.
278:2 Both kāḷo
and asito mean black: this person is the Asita, the Simeon of the
Buddhist nativity; cf. vol. I. 54.Not to be proud when riches grow, nor grieved when they decay.
No. 424.
ĀDITTA-JĀTAKA.
"Whate’er a man can save," etc.—The Master told this tale while dwelling in Jetavana, concerning an incomparable gift. The incomparable gift must be described in full from the commentary on the Mahāgovindasutta. On the day after that on which it had been given, they were talking of it in the Hall of Truth, "Sirs, the Kosala king [470] after examination found the proper field of merit, and gave the great gift to the assembly with Buddha at its head." The Master came and was told what the subject of their talk was as they sat together: he said, "Brethren, it is not strange that the king after examination has undertaken great gifts to the supreme field of merit: wise men of old also after examination gave such gifts," and so he told a tale of old.words, "May the paccekabuddhas who live in the north district of Himālaya receive our alms." The flowers went and fell on five hundred paccekabuddhas in the Nandamūla cave. On reflection they understood that the king had invited them; so they called seven of their number and said, "Sirs, the king invites you; shew him favour." These paccekabuddhas came through the air and lighted at the king's gate. Seeing them the king saluted them with delight, made them come up into the palace, shewed them great honour and gave them gifts. After the meal he asked them for next day and so on until the fifth day, feeding them for six days: on the seventh day he made ready a gift with all the requisites, arranged beds and chairs inlaid with gold, and set before the seven paccekabuddhas sets of three robes and all other things used by holy men. The king and queen formally offered these things to them after their meal, and stood in respectful salutation. To express their thanks the Elder of the assembly spoke two stanzas:—
Whate’er a man can save from flames
that burn his dwelling down,
Not what is left to be consumed, will still remain his own.
The world's on fire, decay and death are there the flame to feed;Not what is left to be consumed, will still remain his own.
Save what you can by charity, a gift is saved indeed.
[472] Thus expressing thanks the Elder admonished the king to be diligent in virtue: then lie flew up in the air, straight through the peaked roof of the palace and lighted in the Nandamūla cave: along with him all the requisites that had been given him flew up and lighted in the cave: and the bodies of the king and queen became full of joy. After his departure, the other six also expressed thanks in a stanza each:—
He who gives to righteous men,
Strong in holy energy,
Crosses Yama's flood, and then
Gains a dwelling in the sky.
Like to war is charity:Strong in holy energy,
Crosses Yama's flood, and then
Gains a dwelling in the sky.
Hosts may flee before a few:
Give a little piously:
Bliss hereafter is your due.
Prudent givers please the Lord,
Worthily they spend their toil.
Rich the fruit their gifts afford,
Like a seed in fertile soil.
They who never rudely speak,
Wrong to living things abjure:
Men may call them timid, weak:
For ’tis fear that keeps them pure.
Lower duties win for man, reborn on
earth, a princely fate,
Middle duties win them heaven, highest win the Purest State.
Middle duties win them heaven, highest win the Purest State.
Charity is blest indeed,
[473] Yet the Law gains higher meed:
Ages old and late attest,
Thus the wise have reached their Rest.
So they also went with the requisites given them.[473] Yet the Law gains higher meed:
Ages old and late attest,
Thus the wise have reached their Rest.
[474] The seventh paccekabuddha in his thanks praised the eternal nirvāna to the king, and admonishing him carefully went to his abode as has been said. The king and queen gave gifts all their lives and passed fully through the path to heaven.
Footnotes
281:1 The higher heavens in the Buddhist Cosmogony.
Om Tat Sat
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