THE JĀTAKA
OR
STORIES OF THE BUDDHA'S FORMER BIRTHS
BOOK XVIII. PAṆṆĀSANIPĀTA.
No. 526.
NAḶINIKĀ-JĀTAKA.
[193] "Lo! the land," etc. This story the Master told while residing at Jetavana concerning the temptation of a Brother by the wife of his unregenerate days. And in telling the story he asked the Brother by whom he had been led astray. "By a former wife," said he. "Verily, Brother," the Master said, "she worketh mischief for you. Of old it was owing to her that you fell away from mystic meditation and were mightily destroyed." And so saying he told a story of the past.and illuminating it all round was seen to stand in mid air. The king on seeing him asked, "Who art thou?" "I am Sakka," he said. "Wherefore art thou come?" "Does rain fall in your realm, Sire?" "No, it does not rain." "Do you know why it does not rain?" "I do not know." "In the Himalaya country, Sire, dwells an ascetic named Isisiṅga, who from the mortification of his senses is severely austere. He constantly, when it begins to rain, looks up at the sky in a rage and so the rain ceases." "What then is to be done now?" "Should his virtue be broken down, it will rain." "But who is able to overcome his virtue?" "Your daughter, Sire, Naḷinikā can do it. Summon her here and bid her go to such and such a place and make a breach in the virtue of the ascetic." And, having thus admonished the king, Sakka returned to his own abode. On the morrow the king took counsel with his courtiers and summoning his daughter addressed her in the first stanza:
Lo! the land lies scorched and ruined
and my realm sinks to decay:
Go, Naḷinikā, and, prithee, bring this brahmin ’neath thy sway.
On hearing this she repeated a second
stanza:Go, Naḷinikā, and, prithee, bring this brahmin ’neath thy sway.
How shall I endure this hardship, how,
midst elephants astray,
Through the glades of yonder forest shall I safely guide my way?
Then the king repeated two stanzas:Through the glades of yonder forest shall I safely guide my way?
Seek thy happy home, my daughter, and
from thence without delay
In a car of wood so deftly framed ride thou upon thy way.
[195] Horses, elephants, and
footmen—go, begirt with brave array,In a car of wood so deftly framed ride thou upon thy way.
And with charm of beauty quickly thou shalt bring him ’neath thy sway.
Thus for the protection of his realm did he talk with his daughter even of such things as should not be spoken of in words. And she readily lent an ear to his proposals. Then, after giving her all that she required, he sent her away with his ministers. They went to the frontier and, after pitching their camp there, they had the princess conveyed by a road pointed out to them by some foresters, and at break of day, entering the Himalaya country, they arrived at a spot close to the ascetic's hermitage. At this very moment the Bodhisatta, leaving his son behind in the hermitage, had gone into the forest to gather wild fruits. The foresters themselves approached the hermitage and, standing where they could see it, they pointed it out to Naḷinikā and repeated two stanzas:
With plantain marked, midst bhurja
trees so green,
Lo! Isisiṅga's pretty hut is seen.
Yon smoke, methinks, arises from the
flameLo! Isisiṅga's pretty hut is seen.
Nursed by that sage of wonder-working fame.
And the king's ministers at the very moment when the Bodhisatta had gone into the forest surrounded the hermitage and set a watch over it, and making the princess adopt the disguise of an ascetic, [196] and arraying
her in an outer and inner garment of beautiful bark adorned with all manner of ornaments, they bade her take in her hand a painted ball tied to a string and sent her into the hermitage grounds, while they themselves stood on guard outside. So playing with her ball she entered the cloister. Now at that moment Isisiṅga was seated on a bench at the door of his hut of leaves, and when he saw her coming he was terrified and got up and went and hid himself in the hut. And she drew nigh to the door and continued playing with her ball.
Bedecked with gems as she drew nigh, a
bright and lovely maid,
Poor Isisiṅga sought in fear his cell's protecting shade.
And while before the hermit's door with
ball the damsel plays,Poor Isisiṅga sought in fear his cell's protecting shade.
Her lovely limbs she doth expose all naked to his gaze.
But when he saw her sporting thus, forth from his cell he broke,
And, rushing from the leafy hut, words such as these he spoke.
Fruit of what tree may this, Sir, be,
that howe’er far ’tis tost
’Twill still return to thee again and never more is lost?
Then she telling him of the tree spoke
this stanza:’Twill still return to thee again and never more is lost?
Mount Gandhamādana, the home wherein I
dwell, can boast
Of many a tree with fruit maybe such that though far ’tis tost,
’Twill still return to me again and never more is lost.
[197] Thus did she speak falsely, but
he believed her, and thinking it was an ascetic he greeted her kindly and
uttered this stanza:Of many a tree with fruit maybe such that though far ’tis tost,
’Twill still return to me again and never more is lost.
Pray, holy sir, come in and take a
seat,
Accept some food and water for thy feet,
And resting here awhile enjoy with me
Such roots and berries as I offer thee.
Accept some food and water for thy feet,
And resting here awhile enjoy with me
Such roots and berries as I offer thee.
through her seductions] his virtue was overcome and his mystic meditation broken off. After disporting himself with her till he was tired, he at length sallied forth and finding his way down to the tank he bathed and, when his fatigue had passed off, he returned and sat in his hut. And once more, still believing her to be an ascetic, he asked where she dwelt, and spoke this stanza:
By what road hither hast thou come,
And dost thou love thy woodland home?
Can roots and berries hunger stay,
And how escap’st thou beasts of prey?
Then Naḷinikā
recited four stanzas:And dost thou love thy woodland home?
Can roots and berries hunger stay,
And how escap’st thou beasts of prey?
North of this the Khemā flows
Straight from Himalayan snows:
On its bank, a charming spot,
May be seen my hermit cot.
Mango, tilak, sāl full-grown,Straight from Himalayan snows:
On its bank, a charming spot,
May be seen my hermit cot.
Cassia, trumpet-flower full-blown—
All with song of elves resound:
Here my home, Sir, may be found.
Here with dates and roots, I ween,
Every kind of fruit is seen:
[200] ’Tis a gay and fragrant spot
That has fallen to my lot.
Roots and berries here abound,
Sweet and fair and luscious found.
But I fear, should robbers come,
They'll despoil my happy home.
The ascetic, on hearing this, to put her off till his father should return, spoke this stanza:
My father foraging for fruit is gone;
The sun is sinking, he'll be here anon.
When back front his fruit-gathering he is come,
We'll start together for thy hermit-home.
Then she thought: "This boy
because he has been brought up in a forest does not know that I am a woman, but
his father will know it as soon as ever he sees me, and will ask me what
business I have here and striking me with the end of his carrying-pole, he will
break my head. I must be off before he returns and the object of my coming is
already accomplished," and telling him how he was to find his way to her
house she repeated another stanza:The sun is sinking, he'll be here anon.
When back front his fruit-gathering he is come,
We'll start together for thy hermit-home.
[201]
Alas! I fear I may no longer stay,
But many a royal saint lives on the way:
Ask one of them to point you out the road;
He'll gladly act as guide to my abode.
But many a royal saint lives on the way:
Ask one of them to point you out the road;
He'll gladly act as guide to my abode.
When she had thus devised a plan for her escape, she left the hermitage, and bidding the youth, as he was wistfully looking after her, to stay where he was, she returned to the ministers by the same road by which she had come there, and they took her with them to their encampment and by several stages reached Benares. And Sakka that very day was so delighted that he caused rain to fall throughout the whole kingdom. But directly she had left the ascetic, Isisiṅga, a fever seized upon his frame and all of a tremble he entered the hut of leaves and putting on his upper robe of bark he lay there groaning. In the evening his father returned and missing his son he said, "Where in the world is he gone?" And he put down his carrying-pole and went into the hut, and when he found him lying there he said, "What ails you, my dear son?" And chafing his back he uttered three stanzas:
No wood is cut, no water fetched, no
fire alight. I pray
Tell me, thou silly lad, why thus thou dream’st the live-long day.
Until to-day the wood was ever cut,Tell me, thou silly lad, why thus thou dream’st the live-long day.
The fire alight, and pot thereon was put,
My seat arranged, the water fetched. In sooth
Thou found’st thy pleasure in the task, good youth.
To-day no wood is cleft, no water brought,
No fire alight; cooked food in vain is sought.
To-day no welcome hast thou given to me:
What hast thou lost? What sorrow troubles thee?
[202] On hearing his father's words, in explaining the matter, he said:
Here, Sire, to-day a holy youth has
been,
A handsome, dapper boy, of winsome mien:
Not over tall nor yet too short was he,
Dark was his hair, as black as black could be.
Smooth-cheeked and beardless was this
stripling wight,A handsome, dapper boy, of winsome mien:
Not over tall nor yet too short was he,
Dark was his hair, as black as black could be.
And on his neck was hung a jewel bright;
Two lovely swellings on his fair breast lay,
Like balls of burnished gold, of purest ray.
His face was wondrous fair, and from each ear
A curvéd ring depending did appear;
These and the fillet on his head gave out
Flashes of light, whene’er he moved about.
Yet other ornaments the youth did wear,
Or blue or red, upon his dress and hair;
Jingling, whene’er he moved, they rang again
Like little birds 1 that chirp in time of rain.
No robe of bark, sign of ascetic grim,
No girdle made of muñja grass for him.
[203] His garments shimmer, clinging to the thigh,
Bright as a flash of lightning in the sky.
Fruits of what tree beneath his waist
are bound,
—Smooth and without or stalk or prickle found—?
Stitched in his robe, in order loose but thick,
They strike each other with a sounding "click."
The tresses on his head were wondrous
fair,—Smooth and without or stalk or prickle found—?
Stitched in his robe, in order loose but thick,
They strike each other with a sounding "click."
Hundreds of curls perfuming all the air:
These locks just parted in the midst had he—
Dressed e’en as his would that my hair might be.
But when his locks he did perchance unbind
And loose in all their beauty to the wind,
Their fragrance filled our home midst forest trees,
Like scent of lotus borne along the breeze.
His very dust was fair to look upon,
His person quite unlike that of thy son:
It breathed forth odours wafted everywhere,
Like shrubs ablossom in the summer air.
His fruit so bright and fair, of varied hue,
Afar from him upon the ground he threw,
Yet back to him ’twould evermore return:
What fruit it is I fain from thee would learn.
His teeth in even rows, so pure and white,
Vie with the choicest pearls, a lovely sight;
Whene’er he opes his lips, how charming ’tis!
No food like ours, roots and vile potherbs, his!
His voice so soft and smooth, yet firm and clear
In gentle accents fell upon the ear;
[204] It pierced me to the heart: so sweet a note
Ne’er issued from melodious cuckoo's throat.
Its tone I thought subdued, pitched far too low
For one rehearsing holy lore, I trow;
Howbeit—so great his kindness—I would fain
Renew my friendship with this youth again.
His warm arms flashing in their gold array,
Like gleams of lightning all around me play.
With down, as eye-salve soft, were they o’erspread,
Round were his fingers, blushing coral-red.
Smooth were his limbs, his tresses long untied,
Long too his nails with tips all crimson dyed:
With his soft arms around me clinging tight
The fair boy ministered to my delight.
His hands were white as cotton, gleaming bright
Like golden mirror that reflects the light;
At their soft touch I felt a burning thrill,
And though he's gone, the memory fires me still.
No load of grain he brought, nor ever could
Be won with his own hands to chop our wood,
Nor would he with his axe hew down a tree
Nor carry a sharp stake, to pleasure me.
This rumpled couch with leaves of
creepers made
Bears witness to the merry pranks we played:
Then in yon lake our weary limbs we lave
And once more seek indoors the rest we crave.
Bears witness to the merry pranks we played:
Then in yon lake our weary limbs we lave
And once more seek indoors the rest we crave.
To-day no holy texts can I recite,
No fire for sacrifice is found alight:
Yea, from all roots and berries I'll abstain
Till I behold this pious youth again.
Tell me, dear father, for thou know’st
it well,No fire for sacrifice is found alight:
Yea, from all roots and berries I'll abstain
Till I behold this pious youth again.
Where in the world this holy youth may dwell;
And thither with all speed, pray, let us fly,
Or at thy door my death will surely lie.
I've heard him speak of glades, with flowerets gay,
And thronged with birds that sing the live-long day,
’Tis thither with all speed I fain would fly
Or here at once I'll lay me down and die.
[207] The Great Being on hearing the boy talk such nonsense knew at once that through some woman he had lost his virtue, and by way of admonition he repeated six stanzas:
An ancient home for sages long has
stood
Within the sunlit precincts of this wood;
[208] In haunts of angels and of nymphs divine,
This feeling of unrest should ne’er be thine.
Friendships exist and then they cease to
be;Within the sunlit precincts of this wood;
[208] In haunts of angels and of nymphs divine,
This feeling of unrest should ne’er be thine.
Each one shows love to his own family;
But they poor creatures are who do not know
To whom their origin and love they owe.
Friendship is formed by constant intercourse;
When this is broken, friendship fails perforce.
Shouldst thou set eyes upon this youth once more,
Or converse hold with him, as heretofore,
Just as a flood sweeps off the ripened corn,
So will the power of virtue be o’er-borne 1.
Demons there be that through the wide earth run
In varied form disguised. Beware, my son!
He that is wise should not consort with such;
Virtue herself is blasted 2 at their touch.
[209] On hearing what his father had to say the youth thought, "She was a female yakkha, he says," and he was terrified and put away the thought of her from him. Then he asked his father's pardon, saying, "Forgive me, dear father, I will not leave this spot." And his father comforted him, saying, "Come, my boy, cultivate charity, pity, sympathy and equanimity," and he proclaimed to him the attainment of the Perfect States. And the son walked accordingly therein and once more developed mystic meditation.
Footnotes
100:1 Vol. v. No. 523.102:1 Naḷinikā, pretending she has been wounded by a bear, practises on the simplicity of the ascetic youth with much the same guile as Venus employs to win Adonis. Compare The Passionate Pilgrim,
Once, quoth she, did I see a fair sweet
youth,
Here in these brakes, deep-wounded with a boar,
Deep in the thigh…
Malone in his Shakspeare, vol. x. p.
324, points out that Rabelais, La Fontaine and other writers have sported with
the same thought. Cf. Rabelais, II. chap. xv, The lion and the old woman.Here in these brakes, deep-wounded with a boar,
Deep in the thigh…
104:1 ciriṭāka is found as the name of a bird in Caraka, I. 27. 46, p. 174 of Calcutta, 1877 edition.
106:1 The fifth stanza is a repetition of the preceding one and is omitted in the English.
106:2 Reading, nassati.
No. 527.
UMMADANTĪ-JĀTAKA. 1
"Whose house is this," etc. This story the Master, while residing at Jetavana, told about a back-sliding Brother. The story runs that one day, as he was going his rounds in Sāvatthi for alms, he saw a woman of surpassing beauty, magnificently attired, and fell in love with her, and on returning home to his monastery he was unable to divert his thoughts from her. From that time, as it were, pierced with love's shafts and sick with desire he became as lean as a wild deer, with his veins standing out on his body, and as sallow as sallow could be. He no longer took delight in any one of the Four Postures, or found pleasure in his own thoughts, but giving up all the services due to a teacher he abandoned the use of instruction, inquiry and meditation. His fellow-monks said, "Sir, once you were calm in mind and serene of countenance, but now it is not so. [210] What can be the cause?" they asked. "Sirs," he answered, "I have no pleasure in anything." Then they bade him be happy, saying, "To be born a Buddha is a hard matter: so also is the hearing of the True Faith, and the attaining to birth as a human being. But you have attained to this, and, yearning to put an end to sorrow, you left your weeping kinsfolk and becoming a believer adopted the ascetic life. Why then do you now fall under the sway of passion? These evil passions are common to all ignorant creatures, from live worms upwards, and such of these passions as are material in their origin, they too are insipid. Desires are full of sorrow and despair: misery in this case ever increases more and more. Desire is like a skeleton or a piece of meat. Desire is like a torch made of a wisp of hay or a light from embers. Desire vanishes like a dream or a loan, or the fruit of a tree. Desire is as biting as a sharp-pointed spear, or as a serpent's head. But you, verily, after embracing so glorious a faith as this and becoming an ascetic, have now fallen under the sway of such harmful passions." When by their admonitions they failed to make him grasp their teaching, they brought him before the Master in the Hall of Truth. And when he said, "Why, Brethren, have you brought this Brother here against his will?" they answered, "They tell us, he is a backslider." The Master asked if it were true, and on his confessing that it was so, the Master said, "Brother, sages of old, though ruling a kingdom, whenever lust sprang up in their hearts, passed under its sway for a time, but checked their roving thoughts and were guilty of no improper conduct." And with these words he related a story of the past.commander-in-chief, and ruled his kingdom righteously. In that same city dwelt a rich merchant, named Tirīṭavaccha, worth eighty crores, and he had a daughter, a very fair and gracious lady, bearing on her person every mark of auspicious fortune, and on her naming-day she was called Ummadantī. When sixteen years old she was as beautiful as a heavenly nymph, of more than mortal loveliness. All worldlings who beheld her could not contain themselves, [211] but were intoxicated with passion, as it were with strong drink, and were quite unable to recover their self-control. So her father, Tirīṭavaccha, drew nigh to the king and said, "Sire, at home I have a treasure of a daughter, a fit mate even for a king. Send for your fortune-tellers, who can read the lineaments of the body, and have her tested by them and then deal with her according to your good pleasure." The king agreed and sent his Brahmins, and they repaired to the merchant's house, and being received with great honour and hospitality partook of some rice-milk. At this moment Ummadantī came into their presence, magnificently attired. On catching sight of her they completely lost their self-control, just as if they were intoxicated with passion, and forgot that they had left their meal unfinished. Some of them took a morsel and thinking they would eat it put it on their heads. Some let it fall on their hips. Others threw it against the wall. Every one was beside himself. When she saw them thus, she said, "They tell me, these fellows are to test the character of my marks," and she ordered them to be taken by the scruff of their neck and thrust out. And they were sorely annoyed and returned to the palace in a great rage with Ummadantī, and they said, "Sire, this woman is no mate for you: she is a witch." The king thought, "They tell me, she is a witch," and he did not send for her. On hearing what had happened she said, "I am not taken to wife by the king, because they say I am a witch: witches forsooth are just like me. Very well, should I ever see the king, I shall know what to do." And she conceived a grudge against him. So her father gave her in marriage to Ahipāraka, and she was her husband's darling and delight. Now as the result of what act of hers had she become so beautiful? By the gift of a scarlet robe. Once upon a time, they say, she was born in a poor family in Benares and on some festal day seeing certain holy women, magnificently clad in robes dyed scarlet with safflower and disporting themselves, she told her parents that she too would like to wear a similar robe and take her pleasure. And when they said, "My dear, we are poor people: whence are we to get you such a robe?" "well then," said she, "suffer me to earn wages in a wealthy household, and as soon as they recognise my merit, they will make me a present of a robe." [212] And having gained their consent she approached a certain family and proposed to let her service to them for a scarlet robe. They said, "After you have worked three years for us, we will recognise your merits by giving you one." She
readily agreed, and set about her work. Recognising her merit before the three years had expired, they gave her together with a thick safflower-dyed robe yet another garment, and sent her off, saying, "Go with your companions, and, after bathing, dress yourself in these robes." So she went with her companions and bathed, leaving the scarlet robe on the bank. At this moment a disciple of the Kassapa Buddha, who had been robbed of his garments and had put on pieces of a broken bough to serve as outer and inner robes, arrived at this spot. On seeing him she thought, "This holy man must have been robbed of his garment. In former times I too, from not having a robe offered to me, found it difficult to procure one," and she determined to divide the garment in two and give him the half of it. So she went up out of the water and put on her old dress and saying, "Stay, holy sir," she saluted the elder, and tearing her robe in two gave the half of it to him. Then he stood on one side in a sheltered spot and, throwing away his branch-garment, he made himself with one side of the robe an inner garment and with the other side an outer garment and stepped out into the open, and his whole person by the splendour of the robe was all ablaze, like the newly-risen sun. On seeing this she thought, "This holy man at first was not radiant, but now he shines like a newly-risen sun. I will give him this too." So she gave him the other half of the robe, and put up this prayer, "Holy sir, I would fain in some future stage of existence be of such surpassing beauty, that no one who sees me may have power to control himself, and that no other woman may he more beautiful." The elder returned her his thanks and went his way. After a period of transmigration in the world of gods, she was at this time born in Ariṭṭhapura and was as beautiful as she was described. Now in this city they proclaimed the Kattika festival, and on the day of full moon they decorated the city. Ahipāraka, on setting out for the post he had to guard, addressing her, said, [213] "Lady Ummadantī, to-day is the Kattika festival; the king, in marching in solemn procession round the city, will first of all come to the door of this house. Be sure you do not shew yourself to him, for on seeing you he will not be able to control his thoughts." As he was leaving her, she said to him, " I will see to it." And as soon as he was off, she gave an order to her handmaid to let her know when the king came to the door. So at sunset, when the full moon had risen and torches were blazing in every quarter of the city, which was decorated as it were some city of the gods, the king arrayed in all his splendour, mounted on a magnificent car drawn by thoroughbreds and escorted by a crowd of courtiers, making a circuit of the city with great pomp, came first of all to the door of Ahipāraka's house. Now this house enclosed by a wall in colour like vermilion, furnished with gates and tower, was a beautiful and charming place. At this moment the maid brought her mistress
word of the king's arrival, and Ummadantī bade her take a basket of flowers, and standing near the window she threw the flowers over the king with all the charm of a sylph. And looking up at her the king was maddened with passion and quite unable to control his thoughts, and he failed to recognise the house as that of Ahipāraka. So addressing his charioteer, he repeated two stanzas in the form of a question:
Whose house is this, Sunanda, tell me
true,
All girt about with wall of golden hue?
What vision fair is this, like meteor bright,
Or sunbeam striking on some mountain height?
A daughter of the house perchance is
she,All girt about with wall of golden hue?
What vision fair is this, like meteor bright,
Or sunbeam striking on some mountain height?
Herself its mistress, or son's wife maybe?
Your answer quickly in a single word—
Is she unwed 1. or owns she still a lord?
[214] Then, in answering the king, he repeated two stanzas:
All that your Highness asks I know full
well,
And of her parents on both sides can tell:
As to her husband, night and day, O king,
He serves thy cause with zeal in everything.
A powerful minister of thine is he,And of her parents on both sides can tell:
As to her husband, night and day, O king,
He serves thy cause with zeal in everything.
Vast wealth he owns and great prosperity;
She's wife of Ahipāraka the famed,
And at her birth was Ummadantī named.
On hearing this the king, in praising her name, repeated yet another stanza:
Alas! how ominous a name is here
Given to this maiden by her parents dear;
Since Ummadantī fixed her gaze on me,
Lo! a mad haunted man I grew to be.
On seeing how agitated he was she
closed the window and went straight to her fair chamber. And from the moment
when the king set eyes on her, he had no more thought of making solemn
procession round the city. Addressing his charioteer he said, "Friend
Sunanda, stop the chariot; [215] this is not a festival suitable for us; it is
fit only for Ahipāraka, my commander-in-chief, and the throne also is better
suited for him," and stopping the chariot he climbed up to his palace and,
as he lay chattering upon the royal couch, he said,Given to this maiden by her parents dear;
Since Ummadantī fixed her gaze on me,
Lo! a mad haunted man I grew to be.
A lily maid, with eyes soft as a doe's,
In the full moon's clear light before me rose,
Beholding her in robe of dove-like hue,
Methought two moons at once came into view.
Darting one glance from her bright,
lovely eyes,In the full moon's clear light before me rose,
Beholding her in robe of dove-like hue,
Methought two moons at once came into view.
The temptress took me captive by surprise,
Like woodland elf upon some mountain height,
Her graceful motion won my heart at sight.
So dark and tall and fair the maid,
with jewels in her ears,
Clad in a single garment, like a timid doe, appears.
With long-tressed hair and nails all
stainéd red,Clad in a single garment, like a timid doe, appears.
O’er her soft arms rich sandal essence shed,
With tapering fingers and a gracious air,
When will she smile on me, my charmer fair?
When will Tirīṭi's slender-waisted maid,
A gold adornment on her breast displayed,
With her soft arms embracing cling to me,
E’en as a creeper to some forest tree?
When will she stained with dye of lac so bright,
With swelling bosom, maiden lily-white,
Exchange a kiss with me, as oft a glass
Will from one toper to another pass?
Soon as I saw her standing thus, so fair to outward view,
No longer master of myself, reason away I threw.
When Ummadantī I beheld, with jewelled ear-rings bright,
Like one amerced right heavily, I slept not day nor night.
[216] Should Sakka grant a boon to me, my choice were quickly ta’en,
I would be Ahipāraka one night or haply twain,
And Ummadantī thus enjoyed, he might o’er Sivi reign.
Then those councillors told Ahipāraka, saying, "Master, the king on making a solemn procession around the city went to the door of your house [217] and then turning back climbed up to his palace." So Ahipāraka went home and addressing Ummadantī asked her if she had shown herself to the king. "My lord," she said, "a certain pot-bellied fellow with huge teeth, standing up in his chariot, came here. I do not know whether he was a king or a prince, but I was told he was a lord of some kind, and standing at the open window I threw flowers over him. Meanwhile he turned back and went off." On hearing this he said, "You have ruined me," and early next morning ascending to the king's house he stood at the door of the royal chamber and, hearing the king rambling about Ummadantī, he thought, "He has fallen in love with Ummadantī; if he does not get her, he will die: it is my duty to restore him to life, if it can be done without sin on the part of the king or myself." So he went home and summoned a stout-hearted knave or a serving-man and said, "Friend, in such and such a place is a hollow tree that is a sacred shrine. Without saying a word to anyone, go there at sunset and seat yourself inside the tree. Then I shall come and make an offering there, and in worshipping the deities I shall put up this prayer; "O king of heaven, our king, while a festival was going on, without taking any part in it, has gone into his royal closet and lies there chattering idly; we do not know why he does so. The king has been a great benefactor of the gods and year by year has spent a thousand pieces of money in sacrifices. Tell us why the king talks thus foolishly and grant us the boon of the king's life." Thus will
I pray and at this moment you are to remember to repeat these words, "O commander-in-chief, your king is not sick, but he is infatuated with your wife Ummadantī. If he shall get her, he will live; otherwise he will die. If you wish him to live, give up Ummadantī to him." This is what you are to say." And having thus schooled him he sent him away. So the servant went next day and seated himself inside the tree and when the general came to the place and put up his prayer, he repeated his lesson. The general said, "It is well," and with an obeisance to the deity he went and told the king's ministers, and entering the city he climbed up to the palace and knocked at the door of the royal closet. [218] The king having recovered his senses asked who it was. "It is I, Ahipāraka, my lord." Then he opened the king's door and going in he saluted the king and repeated a stanza:
While kneeling at a sacred shrine, O
king,
A yakkha came and told me a strange thing,
How Ummadantī had enslaved thy will:
Take her and so thy heart's desire fulfil.
Then the king asked, "Friend
Ahipāraka, do even the yakkhas know that I have been talking foolishly owing to
my infatuation for Ummadantī?" "Yes, my lord," he said. The king
thought, "My vileness is known throughout the world," and he felt
ashamed. And taking his stand in righteousness he uttered another stanza:A yakkha came and told me a strange thing,
How Ummadantī had enslaved thy will:
Take her and so thy heart's desire fulfil.
Fallen from grace no godhead shall I
win,
And all the world will hear of my great sin:
Think too how great thy grief of mind would be,
Shouldst thou no more thy Ummadantī see.
The remaining stanzas are repeated by
the two alternately.And all the world will hear of my great sin:
Think too how great thy grief of mind would be,
Shouldst thou no more thy Ummadantī see.
Except thyself and me, O king, no one
In the whole world will know the deed that's done:
Lo! Ummadantī is my gift to thee,
Thy passion sated, send her back to me.
The sinner thinks, "No mortal man
has beenIn the whole world will know the deed that's done:
Lo! Ummadantī is my gift to thee,
Thy passion sated, send her back to me.
A witness of my guilty deed, I ween,"
[219] Yet all he does will fall within the ken
Of ghostly beings and of holy men.
Who in this world, supposing thou shouldst say,
"I loved her not," would any credence pay?
Think too how great thy grief of mind would be,
Shouldst thou no more thy Ummadantī see.
She was, great king, as dear to me as life,
In very sooth a well-belovéd wife;
Yet, sire, to Ummadantī straight repair,
E’en as a lion to his rocky lair.
The sage howe’er oppressed by his own woe,
Will scarce an act that wins him bliss forego,
E’en the dull fool intoxicate with bliss
Would ne’er be guilty of a sin like this.
A fostering parent, king, I own in
thee,
Husband and lord, yea god art thou to me,
Thy slaves my wife and child, and I thy thrall,
O Sivi, do thy pleasure with us all.
Whoso shall wrong his neighbour nor
repent,Husband and lord, yea god art thou to me,
Thy slaves my wife and child, and I thy thrall,
O Sivi, do thy pleasure with us all.
Saying, "See here a lord omnipotent,"
Will ne’er be found to live out half his days,
And gods will view his conduct with dispraise.
Should righteous men accept as gift a thing
Freely bestowed by others, then, O king,
They who receive and they who grant have done
A deed whereby the fruit of bliss is won.
Who in this world, supposing thou shouldst say,
"I love her not," would any credence pay?
[220.] Think too how great thy grief of mind would be,
Shouldst thou no more thy Ummadantī see.
She was, great king, as dear to me as life,
In very sooth a well-belovéd wife;
Lo! Ummadantī is my gift to thee,
Thy passion sated, send her back to me.
Who rids himself of pain at others' cost,
Rejoicing still though others' joy be lost,
Not he, but one that feels another's woe
As ’twere his own, true righteousness can know.
She was, great king, as dear to me as life,
In very sooth a well-belovéd wife,
I give what most I prize, nor give in vain,
They that thus give receive as much again.
I might destroy myself for fleshly appetite,
Yet would I never dare by wrong destroy the right.
Shouldst thou, O noble prince, thy love foreswear
Because she is my wife, to! I declare
Henceforth she is divorced and free to all,
Thy slave to summon at thy beck and call.
If thou, mine Ancient 1, to thy detriment,
Shouldst put away thy wife, though innocent,
Thou wouldst, methinks, have heavy blame to bear
And ne’er a single soul to speak thee fair.
With all such blame, my king, I could away,
With censure, praise, or be it what it may,
Let it fall on me, Sivi, as it will,
Only do thou thy pleasure first fulfil.
[221] He who esteem or blame regardeth not,
For praise or censure careth not a jot—
From him will glory and good fortune fly,
As floods subside, leaving land high and dry.
Whate’er of bliss or pain from hence may spring,
O’erstepping right, or fit one's heart to wring,
I'll welcome, if it joyous be or sad,
As Earth puts up with all, both good and bad.
I would not have another suffering
From wrongful act that may his bosom wring,
I'll bear the burden of my griefs alone,
Steadfast in right, vexing the peace of none.
A meritorious act to heaven will lead,From wrongful act that may his bosom wring,
I'll bear the burden of my griefs alone,
Steadfast in right, vexing the peace of none.
Be thou no obstacle to such a deed;
I Ummadantī a free offering send,
As kings on brahmin priests much treasure spend.
Truly to me great kindness hast thou shown,
Thy wife and thou are both my friends, I own,
Brahmins and gods alike would blame me sore,
And curses rest on me for evermore.
Townsmen and countryfolk in this, I trust,
Will ne’er, O Sivi king, call thee unjust,
Since Ummadantī is my gift to thee,
Thy passion sated, send her back to me.
Truly to me great kindness hast thou shown,
Thou and thy wife are both my friends, I own,
Good men's right acts are famed both far and wide,
Hard to o’erstep is Right, like Ocean's tide.
Worshipful master, waiting to bestow
Whate’er I crave, kind benefactor, thou
[222] Repayest sevenfold all I offer thee;
Take Ummadantī; my free gift is she.
Mine Ancient, Ahipāraka, in sooth,
Right hast thou followed, even from thy youth;
Who else of living men, I prithee, would
Early and late have striven to do me good?
O noble prince, thou art of peerless fame,
Wise, knowing right and walking in the same,
Shielded by right, mayst thou, O king, live long,
And, lord of right, teach me to shun the wrong.
Come, hearken, Ahipāraka, to these my words and then
I'll teach thee ways of righteousness as practised by good men.
A king delighting in the law is blest,
And of all men a learned one is best,
Ne’er to betray a friend is good, I wis,
But evil to eschew is perfect bliss.
’Neath the mild sway of righteous king,
Like shade from sun-stroke sheltering,
His subjects all may dwell in peace,
Rejoicing in their wealth's increase.
No evil deed shall my approval win,
However heedless it remains a sin:
But such as sin ’gainst knowledge I detest;
List to my parable; mark it and digest.
1The bull through floods a devious course will take,
The herd of kine all straggling in his wake.
So if a leader tortuous paths pursue,
To base ends will he guide the vulgar crew,
And the whole realm an age of license rue.
But if the bull a course direct shall
steer,
The herd of kine straight follow in his rear.
So should their chief to righteous ways be true,
The common folk injustice will eschew,
And through the realm shall holy peace ensue.
[223] I would not by an unjust act e’en
heaven itself attain,The herd of kine straight follow in his rear.
So should their chief to righteous ways be true,
The common folk injustice will eschew,
And through the realm shall holy peace ensue.
No, not if, Ahipāraka, the whole world I should gain.
Whatever things of price ’mongst men esteeméd good,
Oxen and slaves and gold, garments and sandal wood,
Brood mares, rich treasure, jewels bright
And all that sun and moon watch over day and night,
Not for all this would I injustice do,
I amongst Sivis born, a leader true.
Father and chief and guardian of our land,
As champion of its rights I take my stand,
So will I reign on righteousness intent,
To mine own will no more subservient.
Auspicious is thy rule, great king, mayst thou continue long
To guide the state with happy fate and in thy wisdom strong.
Great joy is ours, O king, that thou such zeal for right hast shown,
Princes of might, neglecting right, ere now have lost a crown.
1To parents dear, O warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
To wife and children, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
To friends and courtiers, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
In war and travel, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
In town and village, warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
In every land and realm, O king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
To brahmins and ascetics all, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
To beasts and birds, O warrior king, do righteously; and so
By following a righteous line to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
Do righteously, O warrior king; from this all blessings flow;
By following a righteous course to heaven thou, sire, shalt go.
With watchful vigilance, O king, on paths of goodness go:
The brahmins, Indra, and the gods have won their godhead so.
[227] When the king had thus been taught the law by his commander-in-chief Ahipāraka, he got rid of his infatuation for Ummadantī.
Footnotes
107:1 Compare Jātaka-Mālā, XIII, and Buddhaghosha's Parables, ch. xxix, Story of Rahandama Uppalavaṇṇā.110:1 avāvaṭa, i.e. avyāvṛita, not chosen in marriage.
113:1 Kattā, a king's minister or officer. Cf. Jātaka VI. 259, 24, 268, 6, and 313, 22. The commentary explains the word as "a doer of such things as ought to be done." Compare the use of εὐεργέτης as a title of honour, Hdt. VIII. 85.
114:1 These lines occur in Jātaka, vol. III. p. 74 (English version).
115:1 Jātaka, vol. IV. p. 263 (English version).
No. 528.
MAHĀBODHI-JĀTAKA. 1
"What mean, these things," etc. This story the Master, while residing at Jetavana, told concerning the Perfection of Wisdom. The incident will be found related in the Mahāummagga 2. Now on this occasion the Master said, "Not now only, but formerly also, the Tathāgata was wise and crushed all disputants," and with these words he told a story of the past.sit on the royal couch and to share the royal food. And so twelve years passed. Now the king had five councillors who taught him his temporal and spiritual duties. One of them denied the existence of Cause (Karma). Another believed everything was the act of a Supreme Being. A third professed the doctrine of previous actions. A fourth believed in annihilation at death. A fifth held the Kshatriya doctrine. He who denied the Cause taught the people that beings in this world were purified by rebirth. He who believed in the action of a Supreme Being taught that the world was created by him. He who believed in the consequences of previous acts taught that sorrow or joy that befalls man here is the result of some previous action. The believer in annihilation taught that no one passes hence to another world, but that this world is annihilated. He who professed the Kshatriya creed taught that one's own interest is to be desired even at the cost of killing one's parents. These men were appointed to sit in judgment in the king's court, [229] and being greedy of bribes they dispossessed the rightful owner of property. Now one day a certain man, being worsted in a false action at law, saw the Great Being go into the palace for alms, and he saluted him and poured his grievance into his ears, saying, "Holy Sir, why do you, who take your meals in the king's palace, regard with indifference 1 the action of his lord justices who by taking bribes ruin all men? Just now these five councillors, taking a bribe at the hands of a man who brought a false action, have wrongfully dispossessed me of my property." So the Great Being moved by pity for him went to the court, and giving a righteous judgment reinstated him in his property. The people with one consent loudly applauded his action. The king hearing the noise asked what it meant, and on being told what it was, when the Great Being had finished his meal, he took a seat beside him and asked, "Is it true, Reverend Sir, as they say, that you have decided a lawsuit?" "It is true, Sire." The king said, "It will be to the advantage of the people, if you decide cases: henceforth you are to sit in judgment." "Sire," he replied, "we are ascetics; this is not our business." "Sir, you ought to do it in pity to the people. You need not judge the whole day, but when you come here from the park, go at early dawn to the place of judgment and decide four cases; then return to the park and after partaking of food decide four more cases, and in this way the people will derive benefit." After being repeatedly importuned, he agreed to it and henceforth he acted accordingly. Those who brought fraudulent actions found no further opportunity, and the councillors not getting any bribes were in evil plight and thought, "Ever since this mendicant Bodhi began to sit in judgment, we get nothing at all." And calling him the king's enemy they said, "Come, let us slander him to the king and bring about his death." So drawing nigh to the king they said,
"Sire, the mendicant Bodhi wishes you harm." The king did not believe them and said, " Nay, he is a good and learned man; he would not do so." "Sire," they replied, "all the citizens are his creatures: [230] we are the only five people he cannot get under his thumb. If you do not believe us, when he next comes here, take note of his following." The king agreed to do so, and standing at his window he watched for his coming, and, seeing the crowd of suitors who followed Bodhi without his knowledge, the king thought they were his retinue, and being prejudiced against him he summoned his councillors and asked, "What are we to do?" "Have him arrested, Sire," they said. "Unless we see some gross offence on his part," he said, "how are we to arrest him?" "Well then diminish the honour that is usually paid to him, and when he sees this falling off of respect, being a wise mendicant, he will without saying a word to anyone run away of his own accord." The king fell in with this suggestion and gradually diminished the respect paid to him. On the first day after this they seated him on a bare couch. He noticed it and at once knew that he had been slandered to the king, and returning to the park he was minded to take his departure that very day, but he thought, "When I know for certain, I will depart," and he did not go away. So the next day when he was seated on the bare couch, they came with food prepared for the king and other food as well, and gave him a mixture of the two. On the third day they did not suffer him to approach the dais, but placing him at the head of the stairs they offered him mixed food. He took it and retiring to the park made his meal there. On the fourth day they placed him on the terrace below and gave him broth made of rice dust, and this too he took to the park and made his meal there. The king said, "Though the honours paid to him are diminished, yet Great Bodhi, the mendicant, does not go away. What are we to do?" "Sire," they said, "it is not for alms he comes here; but he is seeking sovereignty. If he were coming merely for the alms, he would have run away the very first day he was slighted." "What then are we to do?" "Have him slain tomorrow, Sire." He said, "It is well," and placing swords in the hands of these very men he said, "Tomorrow, when he comes and stands inside the door, cut off his head and make mincemeat of him, and without saying a word to anyone throw his body on a dunghill, and then take a bath and return here."
They readily agreed and said, "Tomorrow we will come and do so," [231] and having arranged matters with one another they departed to their several homes. The king too after his evening meal lay down on the royal couch and called to mind the virtues of the Great Being. Then straightway sorrow fell upon him and the sweat poured from his body, and getting no comfort in his bed he rolled about from side to side. Now his chief queen lay beside him but he exchanged not a single word with her.
So she asked him, saying, "How is it, Sire, that you do not say a word to me? Have I in any way offended you?" "No, lady," he said, "but they tell me the mendicant Bodhi has become an enemy of ours. I have ordered five of my councillors to slay him tomorrow. After killing him they will cut him in pieces and cast his body on a dunghill. But for twelve years he has taught us many a truth. No single offence in him has ever been clearly seen by me before, but at the instigation of others I have ordered him to be put to death, and this is why I grieve." Then she comforted him, saying, " .If, Sire, he is your enemy, why do you grieve at killing him? Your own safety must be attended to, even if the enemy you slay is your own son. Do not take it to heart." He was reassured by her words and fell asleep. At that moment the well-bred tawny hound hearing the talk thought, "Tomorrow by my own power I must save this man's life." So early next morning the dog went down from the terrace and coming to the big door he lay with his head on the threshold, watching the road by which the Great Being came. But those councillors with swords in their hands came early in the morning and took their stand inside the door. And Bodhi duly observing the time came from the park and approached the palace door. Then the hound seeing him opened his mouth and showed his four big teeth and thought, "Why, holy Sir, do you not seek your alms elsewhere in India? Our king has posted five councillors armed with swords inside the door to slay you. Do not come accepting death as your fate 1, but be off with all speed," and he gave a loud bark. From his knowledge of the meaning of all sounds Bodhi understood the matter and returned to the park [232] and took everything that was necessary for his journey. But the king standing at his window, when he found he was not coming, thought, "If this man is my enemy, he will return to the park and gather together all his forces and will be prepared for action, but if otherwise, he will certainly take all that he requires and be ready to go away. I will find out what he is about." And going to the park he found the Great Being coming out of his hut of leaves and with all his requisites at the end of his cloister walk, ready to start, and saluting him he stood on one side and uttered the first stanza:
What mean these things, umbrella,
shoes, skin-robe and staff in hand?
What of this cloak and bowl and hook? I fain would understand
Why in hot haste thou wouldst depart and to what far-off land.
On hearing this the Great Being
thought, "I suppose he does not understand what he has done. I will let
him know." And he repeated two stanzas:What of this cloak and bowl and hook? I fain would understand
Why in hot haste thou wouldst depart and to what far-off land.
These twelve long years I've dwelt, O
king, within thy royal park;
And never once before to-day this hound was known to bark.
To-day he shows his teeth so white, defiant now and proud,
And hearing what thou toldst the queen, to warn me, bays aloud.
And never once before to-day this hound was known to bark.
To-day he shows his teeth so white, defiant now and proud,
And hearing what thou toldst the queen, to warn me, bays aloud.
Then the king acknowledged his sin, and asking to be forgiven he repeated the fourth stanza:
[233]
The sin was mine: thee, holy sir, my purpose
was to slay;
But now I favour thee once more, and fain would have thee stay.
Hearing this the Great Being said,
"Of a truth, Sire, wise men do not dwell with one who without having seen
a thing with his own eyes follows the lead of others," and so saying he
exposed his misconduct and spoke thus:But now I favour thee once more, and fain would have thee stay.
My food of old was pure and white, next
motley ’twas in hue,
Now it is brown as brown can be. ’Tis time that I withdrew.
First on the dais, then upstairs and
last below I dine;Now it is brown as brown can be. ’Tis time that I withdrew.
Before I'm thrust out neck and crop, my place I will resign.
Affect thou not a faithless friend: like a dry well is he
However deep one digs it out, the stream will muddy be.
A faithful friend aye cultivate, a faithless one eschew,
As one athirst hastes to a pool, a faithful friend pursue.
Cling to the friend that clings to thee, his love with love requite;
One who forsakes a faithful friend is deemed a sorry wight.
Who cleaves not to a steadfast friend, nor love requites with love,
Vilest of men is he, nor ranks the monkey tribe above.
To meet too often is as bad as not to meet at all;
To ask a boon a whit too soon—this too makes love to pall.
Visit a friend but not too oft, nor yet prolong thy stay;
At the right moment favours beg: so love will ne’er decay.
Who stay too long find oftentimes that friend is changed to foe;
So ere I lose thy friendship I will take my leave and go.
[234] The king said:
Though I with folded hands beseech,
thou wilt not lend an ear,
Thou hast no word for us to whom thy service would be dear,
I crave one favour: come again and pay a visit here.
The Bodhisatta said:Thou hast no word for us to whom thy service would be dear,
I crave one favour: come again and pay a visit here.
If nothing comes to snap our life, O
king, if thou and I
Still live, O fosterer of thy realm, perhaps I'll hither fly,
And we may see each other yet, as days and nights go by.
[235] Thus spoke the Great Being and
preached the Truth to the king, saying, "Be vigilant, O Sire." And
leaving the park, after going a round for alms in a district of his own, he
departed from Benares and by degrees reached a place in the Himalayas, and after
dwelling some time there he descended from the hills and settled in a forest
near a frontier village. As soon as he was gone, those councillors once more
sat in judgment, robbing the people, and they thought, "Should Great
Bodhi, the mendicant, return, we shall lose our livelihood. What are we to do
to prevent his coming back?" Then this occurred to them: "Such people
as these cannot leave any object to which they are attached. What can be the
object here to which he is attached?" Then feeling sure it must be the
king'sStill live, O fosterer of thy realm, perhaps I'll hither fly,
And we may see each other yet, as days and nights go by.
chief consort, they thought, "This is the reason why he would return here. We will be beforehand 1 with them and put her to death." And they repeated this to the king, saying, "Sire, to-day a certain report is current in the city." "What report?" he said. "Great Bodhi the mendicant and the queen send messages to and fro, one to the other." "With what objects?" "His message to the queen, they say, is this, "Will you be able by your own power to put the king to death and to grant me the white umbrella?" Her message to him is, "The king's death, verily, is my charge: you are to come quickly." They constantly repeated this till the king believed it and asked, "What then is to be done?" They answered, "We must put the queen to death." And without investigating the truth of the matter he said, "Well then put her to death: and cutting up her body piecemeal throw it on the dunghill." They did so, and the news of her death was noised abroad throughout the city. Then her four sons said, "Our mother though innocent has been put to death by this man," and they became the king's enemies. And the king was greatly terrified. The Great Being in due course heard what had happened and thought, "Excepting myself there is no one that can pacify these princes and induce them to forgive their father; I will save the king's life and deliver these princes from their evil purpose." So next day he entered a frontier village and after eating the flesh of a monkey given to him by the inhabitants [236] he begged for its skin which he had dried in his hermit's hut till it had lost all smell and then made it into an inner and outer robe which he laid upon his shoulder. Why did he do so? That he might say, "It is very helpful to me." Taking the skin with him he gradually made his way to Benares and drawing nigh to the young princes he said to them, "To murder one's own father is a terrible thing: you must not do this. No mortal is exempt from decay and death. I have come here to reconcile you; when I send a message, you are to come to me." After having thus exhorted the youths, he entered the park within the city and seated himself upon a stone slab, spreading the monkey-skin over it.
When the keeper of the park saw this, he went in haste to tell the king. The king on hearing it was filled with joy, and taking those councillors with him went and saluted the Great Being, and sitting down began to converse pleasantly with him. The Great Being without any exchange of friendly greeting went on stroking his monkey-skin. The king said, "Sir, without making any provision 2 for me you continue to rub your monkey-skin. Is this more helpful to you than I am?" "Yes, Sire, this monkey is of the greatest service to me. I travelled about sitting on its back. It carried my water-pot for me. It swept out my dwelling-place.
performed various duties of a minor kind for me. Through its simplicity I ate its flesh and having had its skin dried I spread it out and sit and lie on it: so it is very useful to me." Thus did he, in order to refute these heretics, attribute the acts of a monkey to the monkey-skin, and with this object he spoke as he did. From his having formerly dressed in its skin he said, "I travelled about sitting on its back." From placing it on his shoulder and from having thus carried his drinking vessel he said, "It carried my drinking vessel." From the fact of having swept the ground with the skin he said, "It sweeps out my dwelling place." When he lies down, because his back is touched by this skin, and when he steps upon it, because it touches his feet, he says, "It performed such and such various duties for me": when he was hungry, because he took and ate its flesh, he says, [237] "Being such a simple creature, I ate its flesh." On hearing this those councillors thought, "This man is guilty of murder. Consider, pray, the act of this ascetic: he says he killed a monkey, ate its flesh and goes about with its skin," and clapping their hands they ridiculed him. The Great Being, on seeing them do this, said, "These fellows do not know that I am come with this skin to refute their heresies: I will not tell them." And addressing the one that denied the Cause, he asked, saying, "Why, sir, do you blame me?" "Because you have been guilty of an act of treachery to a friend and of murder." Then the Great Being said, "If one should believe in you and in your doctrine and act accordingly, what evil has been done?" And refuting his heresy he said:
If this thy creed, "All acts of
men, or good or base,
From natural causes spring, I hold, in every case,"
Where in involuntary acts can sin find place?
If such the creed thou holdst and this
be doctrine true,From natural causes spring, I hold, in every case,"
Where in involuntary acts can sin find place?
Then was my action right when I that monkey slew.
Couldst thou but only see how sinful is thy creed,
Thou wouldst no longer then with reason blame my deed.
[238] Thus did the Great Being rebuke him and reduce him to silence. The king, feeling annoyed at the rebuke before the assembly, collapsed 1 and sat down. And the Great Being, after refuting his heresy, addressed the one who believed that everything is brought about by a Supreme Being and said, "Why, sir, do you blame me, if you really fall back upon the doctrine that everything is the creation of a Supreme Being?" And he repeated this verse .
If there exists some Lord all powerful
to fulfil
In every creature bliss or woe, and action good or ill,
That Lord is stained with sin. Man does but work his will.
If such the creed thou holdst and this
be doctrine true,In every creature bliss or woe, and action good or ill,
That Lord is stained with sin. Man does but work his will.
Then was my action right when I that monkey slew.
Couldst thou but only see how sinful is
thy creed,
Thou wouldst no longer then with reason blame my deed.
Thus did he, like one knocking down a
mango with a club stick taken from the mango tree, refute the man who believed
in the action of some Supreme Being by his very own doctrine, and then he thus
addressed the believer in all things having happened before, saying, "Why,
sir, do you blame me if you believe in the truth of the doctrine that
everything has happened before?" And he repeated this verse:Thou wouldst no longer then with reason blame my deed.
From former action still both bliss and
woe begin;
This monkey pays his debt, to wit, his former sin:
Each act's a debt discharged. Where then does guilt come in?
[239] If such the creed thou holdst and
this be doctrine true,This monkey pays his debt, to wit, his former sin:
Each act's a debt discharged. Where then does guilt come in?
Then was my action right when I that monkey slew.
Couldst thou but only see how sinful is thy creed,
Thou wouldst no longer then with reason blame my deed.
Having thus refuted the heresy of this man too, he turned to the believer in annihilation 1 and said, "You, sir, maintain that there is no reward and the like, believing that all mortals suffer annihilation here, and that no one goes to a future world. Why then do you blame me?" And rebuking him he said:
Each living creature's form four
elements compose;
To these component parts dissolved each body goes.
The dead exist no more, the living
still live on;To these component parts dissolved each body goes.
Should this world be destroyed, both wise and fools are gone:
Amidst a ruined world guilt-stain defileth none.
If such the creed thou holdst and this be doctrine true,
Then was my action right when I that monkey slew.
Couldst thou but only see how sinful is thy creed,
Thou wouldst no longer then with reason blame my deed.
[240] Thus did he refute the heresy of this one too and then addressing him who held the Kshatriya doctrine, he said, "You, sir, maintain that a man must serve his own interests, even should he have to kill his own father and mother. Why, if you go about professing this belief, do you blame me?" And he repeated this verse:
The Kshatriyas say, poor simple fools
that think themselves so wise,
A man may kill his parents, if occasion justifies,
Or elder brother, children, wife, should need of it arise.
Thus did he withstand the views of this
man too, and to reveal his own view he said:A man may kill his parents, if occasion justifies,
Or elder brother, children, wife, should need of it arise.
"From off a tree beneath whose
shade a man would sit and rest,
’Twere treachery to lop a branch. False friends we both detest.
’Twere treachery to lop a branch. False friends we both detest.
But if occasion should arise, then
extirpate that tree."
That monkey then, to serve my needs, was rightly slain by me.
If such the creed thou holdst and this
be doctrine true,That monkey then, to serve my needs, was rightly slain by me.
Then was my action right when I that monkey slew.
Couldst thou but only see how sinful is thy creed,
Thou wouldst no longer then with reason blame my deed.
[241] Thus did he refute the doctrine of this man too, and now that all these five heretics were dumbfounded and bewildered 1, addressing the king he said, "Sire, these fellows with whom you go about are big thieves who plunder your realm. Oh! fool that you are, a man by consorting with fellows such as these both in this present world and that which is to come would meet with great sorrow," and so saying he taught the king the Truth and said:
This man avers, "There is no
cause." Another, "One is Lord of all."
Some hold, "Each deed was done of old." Others, "All worlds to ruin fall."
These and the Kshatriya heretics are fools who think that they are wise,
Bad men are they who sin themselves and others wickedly advise,
Evil communications aye result in pains and penalties.
Now by way of illustration, enlarging
on the text of his sermon, he said:Some hold, "Each deed was done of old." Others, "All worlds to ruin fall."
These and the Kshatriya heretics are fools who think that they are wise,
Bad men are they who sin themselves and others wickedly advise,
Evil communications aye result in pains and penalties.
A wolf disguised as ram of old
Drew unsuspected nigh the fold.
The 2panic-stricken flock it slew,Drew unsuspected nigh the fold.
Then scampered off to pastures new.
Thus monks and brahmins often use
A cloak, the credulous to abuse.
Some on bare ground all dirty lie,
Some fast, some squat in agony.
[242] Some may not drink, some eat by rule,
As saint each poses, wicked fool.
An evil race of men are they, and fools
who think that they are wise,
All such not only sin themselves, but others wickedly advise,
Evil communications aye result in pains and penalties.
Who say, "No Force exists in
anything,"All such not only sin themselves, but others wickedly advise,
Evil communications aye result in pains and penalties.
Deny the Cause of all, disparaging
Their own and others' acts as vanity, O king,
An evil race of men are they, and fools who think that they are wise,
All such not only sin themselves, but others wickedly advise,
Evil communications aye result in pains and penalties.
If Force exists not anywhere nor acts be good or ill,
Why should a king keep artisans, to profit by their skill?
It is because Force does exist and actions good or ill,
That kings keep ever artisans and profit by their skill.
If for a hundred years or more no rain
or snow should fall,
Our race, amidst a ruined world, would perish one and all.
But as rains fall and snow withal, the
changing year ensures,Our race, amidst a ruined world, would perish one and all.
That harvest ripens and our land for ages long endures.
1The bull through floods a devious course will take &c.
Who plucketh fruit before it has well ripened on the tree,
Destroys its seed and never knows how sweet the fruit may be.
[243] So he that by unrighteous rule his country has destroyed,
The sweets that spring from righteousness has never once enjoyed.
But he that lets the fruit he plucks first ripen on the tree,
Preserves its seed and knows full well how sweet the fruit may be.
So he too by his righteous rule that has preserved the land,
How sweet the fruits of justice are can fully understand.
The warrior king that o’er the land unrighteous sway shall wield
Will suffer loss in plant and herb, whate’er the ground shall yield.
So should he spoil his citizens so apt by trade to gain,
A failing source of revenue will his exchequer drain.
And should he vex his soldiers bold, so skilled to rule the fight,
His army will fall off from him and shear him of his might.
So should he wrong or sage or saint, he meets his due reward,
And through his sin, howe’er high born, from heaven will be debarred.
And should a wife by wicked king, though innocent, be slain,
He suffers in his children and in hell is racked with pain.
Be just to town and country folk and treat thy soldiers well,
Be kind to wife and children and let saints in safety dwell.
A monarch such as this, O Sire, if free from passion found,
Like Indra, lord of Asuras, strikes terror all around.
[245] The Great Being having thus taught the Truth to the king summoned the four young princes and admonished them, explaining to them the king's action, and he said, "Ask the king's pardon," and having persuaded the king to forgive them, he said, "Sire, henceforth do not accept the statement of slanderers without weighing their words, and be not guilty of any similar deed of violence, and as for you young princes, act not treacherously towards the king," and he thus admonished them all. Then the king said to him, "Holy Sir, it was owing to these men that I sinned against you and the queen, and through accepting their statement I wrought this evil deed. [246] I will put all five of them to death." "Sire, you must not do this." "Then I will order their feet and hands to be cut off." "This too you must not do." The king assented, saying, "It is well," and he stript them of all their property and disgracing them in various ways, by fastening their hair into five locks 2, by putting them into
fetters and chains and by sprinkling cow-dung over them, he drove them out of his kingdom. And the Bodhisatta after staying there a few days and admonishing the king, bidding him be vigilant, set off for the Himalayas and developed supernatural power arising out of mystic meditation, and so long as he lived, cultivating the Perfect States, he became a denizen of the Brahma world.
Footnotes
116:1 Compare Jātaka-Mālā, XXIII. The Story of the Mahābodhi, and Dīgha Nikāya, II. Sāmañña-Phala (Dialogues of the Buddha translated by R. Davids, p. 65).116:2 Jātaka, vol. VI. No. 546.
117:1 ajjhupekkhati. Compare Jātaka, I. 147, Cullavagga, IV. 4. 8.
119:1 Jātaka, IV. 417, "with death written on the brow."
121:1 paṭigacc’eva, vl. paṭikacc’eva. Refer to Trenckner's Milindapañha, note 4832, pp. 421, 422. It has here the force of the Latin ultro.
121:2 Another reading is akathetvā, "without addressing a word to me."
122:1 pattakkhandha, see note on p. 10.
123:1 ucchedavāda. Compare Vinaya Texts, II. 111, Dhamma Saṅgaṇi, p. 268 of translation, and Buddhist Suttas, p. 149 (S. B. E. XI.) and Kathā Vatthu, Pakaraṇa Aṭṭhakathā, p. 6 (P. T. S. J. 1889).
124:1 nippaṭibhāna, cf. appaṭibhāna, Cullavagga, IV. 4. 8.
124:2 Reading vittāsayitvā for citrāsayitvā.
125:1 These lines are to be found in Jātaka, III. In. p. 74 (English) and vol. v. p. 113.
125:2 Compare Kathā Sarit Sāgara, XII. 168, Tawney's translation, vol. I. p. 80, where as a mark of disgrace a woman's head is so shaved that five locks are left. Jātaka VI. 135 shows that the cūḷā was sometimes a mark of slavery. In Jātaka V. p. 249 a little boy of poor parents is described as wearing his hair in this fashion.
126:1 For these heretics see Hardy's Manual, p. 300, and Vinaya Texts, II. 111. Some of their names are found elsewhere with different forms, Pūraṇa, Kakudha Kaccāyana and Nātaputta.
BOOK XIX. SAṬṬHINIPĀTA.
No. 529.
SONAKA-JĀTAKA. 1
[247] "A thousand crowns," etc. This is a story told by the Master, while dwelling at Jetavana, concerning the Perfection of Renunciation. On this occasion the Bodhisatta sitting in the Hall of Truth in the midst of the Brethren, as they were singing the praises of the Perfection of Renunciation, said, "Brethren, not now only, but of old also the Tathāgata verily left the world and made the Great Renunciation," and so saying he related a story of the past.assembled together and saying, "Thou art to go to the house of the man that is worthy to be king," they started the festal car 1. On leaving the city it gradually approached the park and stopping at the park gate it stood there, ready for any one to mount upon it. The Bodhisatta lay, with his outer robe wrapped about his head, on the royal slab of stone, while the lad Sonaka sat near him. On hearing the sound of musical instruments Sonaka thought, "Here comes the festal car for Arindama. To-day he will be made king and he will offer me the post of commander. But verily I have no desire for rule: when he is gone away, I will leave the world and become an ascetic," and he stood on one side in concealment. The chaplain on entering the park saw the Great Being lying there and ordered his trumpets to be sounded. The Great Being woke up and after turning over and lying for a while he rose up and sat cross-legged on the stone seat. Then the chaplain spreading out his arms in a suppliant attitude cried, "The kingdom, Sire, comes to you." "Why, is there no heir to the throne?" "Even so, Sire." "Then it is well," he said. So they sprinkled him to be king then and there. And mounting him on the car they brought him with a vast escort into the city. After a solemn procession round the city he ascended to his palace and in the greatness of his glory he forgot all about young Sonaka. But when the king was gone, Sonaka returned and sat on the stone seat, and so it was that a withered leaf of a sāl tree fell from its stalk in front of him, and on seeing it he cried, "Even as this leaf, so will my body fall into decay," and acquiring supernatural insight by reflecting on the impermanence of all things he attained to the state of a paccekabuddha, and at this very instant his characteristic as a layman vanished, and the marks of an ascetic became visible, and saying, "There is no more re-birth for me," in the utterance of this aspiration he set out for the cave of Nandamūla. And the Great Being after the lapse of forty years remembered Sonaka and said, "Where in the world can Sonaka be?" And time after time calling him to mind [249] he found no one to tell him saying, "I have heard of him or I have seen him." And sitting cross-legged on a royal throne upon a magnificent dais, surrounded by a company of minstrels and mime dancers, in the enjoyment of his glory, he said, "Whosoever shall hear from some one that Sonaka dwells in such and such a place and shall repeat it to me, to him I promise a hundred pieces of money, but whosoever shall see him with his own eyes and shall tell me, to him I promise a thousand pieces of money," and giving expression to this inspired utterance, in the form of a song, he repeated the first stanza:
A thousand crowns for one that sees my
friend and playmate dear.
A hundred lo! I give if one of Sonaka should hear.
A hundred lo! I give if one of Sonaka should hear.
Then a nautch girl, catching it up, as it were, from his very mouth, sang the words, and then another and another took it up till the whole harem, thinking it was a favourite air of the king's, all sang it. And gradually both towns-people and country-folk sang the same song and the king too constantly sang it. At the end of fifty years the king had many sons and daughters, and the eldest son was called prince Dīghāvu. At this time the paccekabuddha Sonaka thought, "King Arindama is anxious to see me. I will go and explain to him the misery of evil desires and the blessing of Renunciation, and will show him the way to become an ascetic. And by his supernatural power he conveyed himself thither and took a seat in the park. At that moment a boy seven years old, wearing his hair in five knots, was sent there by his mother, and as he was gathering sticks in the park garden he sang over and over again this song. Sonaka called the boy to him and asked him saying, "Why, my lad, do you always sing the same song and never sing anything else? Do you not know any other song?" "I know others, holy Sir, but this is the king's favourite song, and so I constantly sing it." "Has any one been found to sing a refrain to this song?" "No, Sir." "I will teach you one and then you can go and sing the refrain before the king." "Yes, Sir." So he taught him the refrain "A thousand crowns" and the rest of it, and when the boy had mastered it, [250] he sent him off, saying, "Go, my lad, and sing this refrain before the king and he will grant you great power. What have you to do with gathering sticks? Be off with you as quick as you can." "It is well," said the boy, and having mastered the refrain and saluted Sonaka he said, "Holy Sir, until I bring the king, do you remain here." With these words he went off as fast as he could to his mother and said to her, "Dear mother, give me a bath and dress me in my best clothes: to-day will I free you from your poverty." And when he had taken a bath and was smartly dressed, he went to the door of the palace and said, "Porter, go and tell the king and say, "A certain lad has come and even now stands at the door, prepared to sing a song with you." So the porter made haste and told the king. The king summoned him to his presence and said, "Friend, would you sing a song with me?" "Yes, Sire." "Then sing it." "My lord, I will not sing it here, but have a drum beaten through the city and bid the people assemble together. I will sing before the people." The king ordered this to be done, and, taking his seat in the middle of a couch under a magnificent pavilion and assigning a suitable seat to the boy, he said, "Now then sing your song." "Sire," he said, "you sing first and then I will sing a refrain to it." Then the king sang first, repeating this stanza:
A thousand crowns for one that sees my
friend and playmate dear,
A hundred lo! I give if one of Sonaka should hear.
A hundred lo! I give if one of Sonaka should hear.
Then the Master, to make it clear that the boy with his hair dressed in five knots sang a refrain to the song begun by the king, in his Perfect Wisdom repeated two lines:
Then up and spake that little boy—five
tangled locks he wore—
"The thousand give to me who saw, who heard a hundred more:
I'll tell thee news of Sonaka, thy playfellow of yore."
"The thousand give to me who saw, who heard a hundred more:
I'll tell thee news of Sonaka, thy playfellow of yore."
[251]
Pray in what country, realm, or town
hast thou a-wandering been,
And where was Sonaka, my friend, I prithee tell me, seen?
Within this realm, in thine own park is
many a big sāl treeAnd where was Sonaka, my friend, I prithee tell me, seen?
With leaves dark green and stems so straight, a pleasant sight to see;
Their branches densely interlaced, cloud-like, to heaven they rise,
And at their foot lo! Sonaka in meditation lies,
Filled with the Arhat's holy calm, when human passion dies.
The king then started in full force and levelling the road
He made his way straight to the place of Sonaka's abode.
There wandering midst an ample grove within his pleasure ground,
All passionless, in saintly bliss, his friend at rest he found.
Without saluting him he sat on one side and, by reason of his being himself given up to evil passion, he fancied he was some poor wretch and addressed him in this stanza:
His parents dead, with shaven head,
clad in monk's robe I see
A wretched Brother in a trance, stretched here beneath this tree.
On hearing this said Sonaka, "He
is no wretched wightA wretched Brother in a trance, stretched here beneath this tree.
Who in his every action, Sire, has aye attained to right.
[252] Nay rather wretched those who right neglect and practise ill,
For evil doer evil doom is destined to fulfil."
Thus did he rebuke the Bodhisatta, and he pretending not to know he was being rebuked, talking in a friendly way with him, declared his name and family and spoke this stanza:
As king of Kāsi I am known, Arindama my
name,
Since coming here, Sir, hast thou met with aught deserving blame?
Then the paccekabuddha said, "Not
merely while dwelling here but nowhere else have I met with any discomfort,"
and he began to tell in verse the blessings of the monk:Since coming here, Sir, hast thou met with aught deserving blame?
’Mongst blessings of poor homeless monk
I ever count it one,
In jar or maund or granary he stores has hoarded none,
But only craves what others leave and lives content thereon.
The next of all his blessings this is
one deserving praise,In jar or maund or granary he stores has hoarded none,
But only craves what others leave and lives content thereon.
He free from blame enjoys his food and no one him gainsays.
Third blessing of the monk I hold is this, that all his days
He eats his food in happiness and no one him gainsays.
The fourth of all his blessings is that wheresoe’er he goes,
He wanders free throughout the realm and no Attachment knows.
Fifth blessing this that should the town, wherever he may be,
Perish in flames, he suffers not, for nought to burn has he.
[253]
The sixth of all the blessings he may
reckon to his lot
That if the realm should be despoiled, he suffers not a jot.
The seventh of the blessings that to
poverty he owes,That if the realm should be despoiled, he suffers not a jot.
Though robbers should his path beset, and many dangerous foes,
With bowl and robe the holy man ever in safety goes.
Last blessing this that wheresoe’er our wanderer may fare,
Homeless and poor, he journeys on without regret or care.
[254] Thus did the paccekabuddha Sonaka tell of the eight blessings of the monk, and even beyond this he could have told of a hundred, nay a thousand immeasurable blessings, but the king being given up to sensual desires cut short his speech, saying, "I have no need of monkish blessings," and to make it clear how devoted he was to evil passions he said:
Thy many blessings thou mayst praise
but what am I to do
Who worldly pleasures, Sonaka, so greedily pursue?
Dear are all human joys to me and
heavenly joys as well,Who worldly pleasures, Sonaka, so greedily pursue?
But how to gain both worlds at once, to me, I prithee, tell.
Then the paccekabuddha answered him:
[255]
Who greedily on pleasure bent their
worldly lusts would sate,
Work wickedness awhile, to be re-born in woeful state.
But they who leave desire behind
through life all fearless go,Work wickedness awhile, to be re-born in woeful state.
And reaching concentration 1 pure are ne’er re-born to woe.
Here tell I thee a parable; Arindama, give heed,
Some that are wise through parable my meaning best may read.
See! borne along on Ganges' flooded tide a carcase vast,
A foolish crow thought to himself as it was floating past,
"Oh what a carriage I have found and goodly store of food,
Here will I stay both night and day, enjoying blissful mood."
So eats he flesh of elephant and drinks from Ganges' stream,
And budging not sees grove and shrine pass by him in a dream.
Thus heedless and on carrion vile so all intent was he,
The Ganges swept him headlong to the perils of the sea.
But when with food exhausted he, poor bird, essayed a flight,
Nor east nor west nor south nor north was any land in sight.
Far out at sea, so weak was he, long ere he reached the shore,
Midst countless perils of the deep he fell to rise no more.
For crocodiles and monster fish, where our poor flutterer lay,
Came ravening all around and quick devoured their quivering prey.
So thou and all that greedily pleasures of sense pursue
Are deemed as wise as was this crow, till ye all lusts eschew.
My parable proclaims the Truth. To it, O king, give heed,
Thy fame for good or ill will grow according to thy deed.
[257]. Thus by means of this parable did he admonish the king and, in order to fix it firmly in his mind, he repeated this stanza:
In pity once, nay even twice, utter the
warning word,
But keep not on repeating it, like slave before his lord.
But keep not on repeating it, like slave before his lord.
Thus in his wisdom infinite did Sonaka
the seer
Instruct the king, and then in space straightway did disappear.
This stanza was inspired by Perfect
Wisdom.Instruct the king, and then in space straightway did disappear.
Where are my charioteers, despatched a
worthy king to find?
I would not longer reign; henceforth my crown I have resigned.
Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll
be ordained to-day;I would not longer reign; henceforth my crown I have resigned.
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
On hearing him thus abdicate his throne his councillors said:
Thou hast a son, Dīghāvu named, a
goodly prince is he,
By sprinkling raise him to the throne, for he our king shall be.
Then, beginning with the stanza spoken
by the king, the verses in due order are to be understood in their obvious
connexion:By sprinkling raise him to the throne, for he our king shall be.
Then quickly bring Dīghāvu here, a
goodly prince is he,
By sprinkling raise him to the throne, for he your king shall be.
When they had brought Dīghāvu there,
their nursing king to be,By sprinkling raise him to the throne, for he your king shall be.
His sire addressed his darling boy—an only son was he.
Full sixty thousand villages I once did claim as mine,
Take them, my son, to thee henceforth my kingdom I resign.
Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll be ordained to-day;
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
Lo! sixty thousand elephants with splendour all bedight,
With girths of gold, caparisoned with trappings golden-bright,
Each ridden by his own mahout, with spikèd hook in hand,
Take them, my son, I give them thee as ruler of the land.
[259] Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll be ordained to-day;
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
Lo! sixty thousand horses here, bedecked in bright array
—Sindh horses, all of noble breed and fleet of foot are they—
Each ridden by a henchman bold, with sword and bow in hand,
Take them, my son, I give them thee as ruler of the land.
Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll be ordained to-day;
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
Lo! sixty thousand cars all yoked, with banners flying free,
With tiger skin and panther hide, a gorgeous sight to see,
Each driven by mailéd charioteers, all
armed with bow in hand,
Take them, my son, I give them thee, as ruler of the land.
Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll
be ordained to-day;Take them, my son, I give them thee, as ruler of the land.
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
Lo! sixty thousand kine so red, with bulls on every hand,
Take them, my son, I give them thee as ruler of the land.
Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll be ordained to-day;
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
Here twice eight thousand maidens fair in goodly vesture stand,
With many a jewelled bracelet decked and rings upon each hand,
Take them, my son, I give them thee, as ruler of the land.
Tomorrow one may die, who knows? I'll be ordained to-day;
Lest, like the foolish crow, I fall ’neath passion's baneful sway.
1They say to me, "Thy mother dear, alas! poor boy, is dead,"
I cannot live without thee too. All joy from life is fled.
As close behind old elephant a young one oft is found
Moving through mountain-pass or wood, o’er rough or level ground,
So bowl in hand I'll follow thee, wherever thou mayst lead,
Nor shalt thou find me burdensome or difficult to feed.
2As oft some ship of merchants seeking gain at any cost
Is swallowed by a whirlpool 3 and both ship and crew are lost,
So lest I find a stumbling-block in this accursèd boy,
Instal him in my palace there all pleasures to enjoy—
[260] With maids whose hands caressing him with gleaming gold are bright,
Like Sakka midst his nymphs divine, he'll ever take delight.
Then brought they prince Dīghāvu to the palace, home of joy,
And seeing him these maidens fair addressed the royal boy.
"Who art thou? Angel, minstrel-god, or Sakka known to fame,
Dispensing alms in every town? We fain would learn thy name."
No angel I nor minstrel-god nor Sakka known to fame,
But heir to king of Kāsi, prince Dīghāvu is my name.
So cherish me and happy be: each one as wife I claim.
Then thus unto Dīghāvu, their liege lord, these maidens said;
"Where has the king a refuge gained, and whither is he fled?"
The king escaped from miry ways is safe upon dry ground,
From thorns and jungle free at last the high road he has found.
But I am set upon a path that leads to woeful state,
Through thorns and jungle on I press to reach an awful fate.
Welcome to us, as lion is to cubs in mountain lair,
Bear sway henceforth, our sovereign lord, the true and rightful heir.
[261] And having so spoken they all sounded their musical instruments and all manner of song and dance took place, and so great was his glory that the prince intoxicated by it forgot all about his father, but exercising his rule with justice he fared according to his deeds. But the Bodhisatta
developed the supernatural faculty resulting from Meditation and passed away to the Brahma world.
Footnotes
127:1 Compare the story of Darīmukha, No. 378, vol. III. p. 156 (English translation).128:1 phussaratha, Jātaka III. 238, IV. 39, and especially Mahājanaka, vi. No. 539.
131:1 ekodibhāva, concentration of mind, see R. Morris, P. T. S. J. 1885, p. 32 and Academy, March 27, 1886.
132:1 On a brahmin being called hīna jacco see Buddhist India by R. Davids, p. 60.
133:1 This and the two following stanzas are spoken by the young prince.
133:2 This and the two following stanzas are spoken by king Arindama.
133:3 The commentary explains vohāra as a "monster fish" or "whirlpool."
Om Tat Sat
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