Hero's Descent

Once upon a time in the country of Kāsi and the city of Benares, there was a king called Brahma-datta. The Bodisat was at that time born in a merchant’s family; and in due course he grew up, and went about trafficking with five hundred bullock-carts. Sometimes he travelled from east to west, and sometimes from west to east. At Benares too there was another young merchant, stupid, dull, and unskilful in resource.

Now the Bodisat collected in Benares merchandise of great value, and loaded it in five hundred bullock-carts, and made them ready for a journey. And that foolish merchant likewise loaded five hundred carts, and got them ready to start.

Then the Bodisat thought, “If this foolish young merchant should come with me, the road will not suffice for the thousand carts, all travelling together; the men will find it hard to get wood and water, and the bullocks to get grass. Either he or I ought to go on first.”

But the Bodisat saw that it would be better to go second: for thus it occurred to him, “Those who go in front will make the rough places plain, whilst I shall go over the ground they have traversed:--the old rank grass will have been eaten by the oxen that have gone first, whilst my oxen will eat the freshly grown and tender shoots:--for the men there will be the sweet curry-stuffs that have grown where the old was picked:--where there is no water these others will dig and get supplies, whilst we shall drink from the wells that they have dug:--and haggling about prices too is killing work; whereas by going afterwards, I shall sell my goods at the prices they have established.” So seeing all these advantages, he said, “Well, friend, you may go on first.”

Now for a month and a half after the foolish merchant had started, the Bodisat waited; and then left the city, and went straight on till he came to the mouth of the desert. There he filled the vessels, and laid up a plentiful store of water, and had the drum beaten in the encampment to call the men together, and addressed them thus: “Without asking me, let not even a cupful of water be used! There are poisonous trees in the wilderness: without asking me, let not a leaf nor a flower nor a fruit you have not eaten before, be eaten!” And when he had thus exhorted his followers, he entered the desert with his five hundred waggons.

When he had reached the middle of the desert, that demon, in the same way as before, showed himself to the Bodisat as if he were coming from the opposite direction. The Bodisat knew him as soon as he saw him, thinking thus: “There is no water in this wilderness; its very name is the arid desert. This fellow is red-eyed and bold, and throws no shadow. The foolish merchant who went on before me will doubtless have been persuaded by this fellow to throw away all his water; will have been wearied out; and, with all his people, have fallen a prey. But he doesn’t know, methinks, how clever I am, and how fertile in resource.”

The demon went on a little way, and when he got out of sight, returned to his demon city. When the demons were gone, his men said to the Bodisat, “Sir! those men told us that yonder was the beginning of the green forest, and from there onwards it was always raining. They had all kinds of lotuses with them in garlands and branches, and were chewing the edible lotus-stalks; their clothes and hair were all wet, and they came dripping with water. Let us throw away the water, and go on quickly with light carts!”

And when he heard what they said, the Bodisat made the waggons halt, and collecting all his men, put the question to them, “Have you ever heard anybody say that there was any lake or pond in this desert?” “We never heard so.”

But the Bodisat, saying to himself, “If I lose heart, all these will perish,” walked about while the morning was yet cool. And on seeing a tuft of Kusa-grass, he thought, “This must have grown by attracting some water which there must be beneath it.”

But the Bodisat thought, “There must be water under that rock,” and descending into the well, he got upon the stone, and, stooping down, applied his ear to it, and tested the sound of it. And he heard the sound of water gurgling beneath. And he got out, and called his page. “My lad, if you give up now, we shall all be lost. Don’t you lose heart. Take this iron hammer, and go down into the pit, and give the rock a good blow.”

The lad obeyed, and though they all stood by in despair, he went down full of determination, and struck at the stone. And the rock split in two, and fell below, and no longer blocked up the stream. And water rose till its brim was the height of a palm-tree in the well. And they all drank of the water, and bathed in it. Then they split up their extra yokes and axles, and cooked rice, and ate it, and fed their oxen with it. And when the sun set, they put up a flag by the well, and went to the place appointed. There they sold their merchandise at double and treble profit, and returned to their own home, and lived to a good old age, and then passed away according to their deeds. And the Bodisat gave gifts, and did other virtuous acts, and passed away according to his deeds. When the Buddha had told the story, he, as Buddha, uttered the verse--

Long ago, in the fifth dispensation before the present one, the Bodisat was a dealer in tin and brass ware, named Seriva, in the country of that name. This Seriva, together with another dealer in tin and brass ware, who was an avaricious man, crossed the river Tēla-vāha, and entered the town called Andhapura. And dividing the streets of the city between them, the Bodisat went round selling his goods in the street allotted to him, while the other took the street that fell to him.

Now, it was allowed to either hawker to enter the street which the other had left. And the Bodisat came into that street, and calling out, “Buy my water-pots,” came up to the door of that very house. And the girl spoke to her grandmother as before. But the grandmother said, “My child, the dealer who came just now threw the dish on the floor, and went away; what have I now got to give him in exchange?”

The Bodisat gave them all the cash he had in hand (five hundred pieces), and all his stock-in-trade, worth five hundred more. He asked of them only to let him keep eight pennies, and the bag and the yoke that he used to carry his things with. And these he took and departed. And going quickly to the river-side, he gave those eight pennies to a boatman, and got into the boat. But that covetous hawker came back to the house, and said: “Bring out that dish, I’ll give you something for it!”

When he heard this he called out, “Through this fellow I have lost a golden pot worth--O, worth a hundred thousand! He has ruined me altogether!” And bitter sorrow overcame him, and he was unable to retain his presence of mind; and he lost all self-command. And scattering the money he had, and all the goods, at the door of the house, he seized as a club the yoke by which he had carried them, and tore off his clothes, and pursued after the Bodisat. When he reached the river-side, he saw the Bodisat going away, and he cried out, “Hallo, Boatman! stop the boat!”

But the Bodisat said, “Don’t stop!” and so prevented that. And as the other gazed and gazed at the departing Bodisat, he was torn with violent grief; his heart grew hot, and blood flowed from his mouth until his heart broke--like tank-mud in the heat of the sun!

Thus harbouring hatred against the Bodisat, he brought about on that very spot his own destruction. This was the first time that Devadatta harboured hatred against the Bodisat. But the Bodisat gave gifts, and did other good acts, and passed away according to his deeds. It was when the Buddha had finished this discourse, that he, as Buddha, uttered the following verse--

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, in the land of Kāsi, the Bodisat was born in a treasurer’s family; and when he grew up he received the post of treasurer, and was called Chullaka. And he was wise and skilful, and understood all omens. One day as he was going to attend upon the king he saw a dead mouse lying on the road; and considering the state of the stars at the time, he said, “A young fellow with eyes in his head might, by picking this thing up, start a trade and support a wife.”

And when Chullaka the high treasurer heard his tale, he thought, “It will never do to let such a lad as this get into any one else’s hands.” So he gave him his grown-up daughter in marriage, and made him heir to all the family estates. And when the treasurer died, he received the post of city treasurer. But the Bodisat passed away according to his deeds. * * * * * It was when the Buddha had finished his discourse that he, as Buddha, uttered the following verse:

Long ago, Brahma-datta was king in Benares, in the land of Kāsi. At that time our Bodisat was his Valuer. He valued both horses, elephants, or things of that kind; and jewelry, gold, or things of that kind; and having done so, he used to have the proper price for the goods given to the owners thereof.

The horse-dealer accepted the Bodisat’s advice, went to the valuer, and bribed him, and gave him the hint suggested. And he took the bribe, and said, “All right! I can value your measure of rice for you.”

“Well, then, let us go to the audience-hall,” said he; and taking him with him, went into the king’s presence. And the Bodisat and many other ministers went there also.

Hearing this the ministers clapped their hands, laughing, and saying, “We used to think the broad earth, and the king’s realm, were alike beyond price; but this great and famous royal city is worth, by his account, just a measure of rice! O the depth of the wisdom of the valuer! How can he have stayed so long in office? Truly he is just suited to our king!” Thus they laughed him to scorn. Then the Bodisat uttered this stanza:

Then the king was ashamed, and drove out that fool, and appointed the Bodisat to the office of Valuer. And in course of time the Bodisat passed away according to his deeds.

Long ago Brahma-datta was king in Benares, in the country of Kāsi. And the Bodisat of that time assumed re-existence in the womb of his chief queen; and on the day on which they chose a name for him, they gave him the name of Prince Mahiŋsāsa. And when he could run to and fro, and get about by himself, another son was born, whom they called the Moon Prince.

When he could run to and fro, and get about by himself, the mother of the Bodisat died. The king appointed another lady to the dignity of chief queen. She became very near and dear to the king, and in due course she brought forth a son, and they called his name the Sun Prince. When the king saw his son, he said in his joy, “My love! I promise to give you, for the boy, whatever you ask!”

They went on till they entered the mountain region of Himālaya. There the Bodisat, leaving the path, sat down at the foot of a tree, and said to the Sun Prince:

But the Bodisat, when he found that he was so long in coming, sent the Moon Prince. Him, too, the demon seized and asked him as before: “Do you know what is of divine nature?” “Yes, I do. The far-spreading sky is called divine.” “You then don’t know what is divine,” said he; and he took him, too, and put him in the same place.

When he too delayed, the Bodisat thought to himself, “Some accident must have happened.” He himself, therefore, went to the place, and saw the marks of the footsteps where both the boys had gone down into the water. Then he knew that the pond must be haunted by a water-sprite; and he stood fast, with his sword girded on, and his bow in his hand.

But when the demon saw that the Bodisat was not going down into the water, he took to himself the form of a woodman, and said to the Bodisat:

“Hallo, my friend! you seem tired with your journey. Why don’t you get down into the lake there; and have a bath, and drink, and eat the edible stalks of the lotus plants, and pick the flowers, and so go on your way at your ease?” And as soon as the Bodisat saw him, he knew that he was the demon, and he said, “It is you who have seized my brothers!” “Yes, it is I,” said he. “What for, then?” “I have been granted all those who go down into this pond.” “What? All!” “Well; all save those who know what beings are divine. The rest are my prey.” “But have you then any need of divine beings?” “Yes, certainly.” “If it be so, I will tell you who are divine.” “Speak on then; and I shall get to know who have the attributes which are divine.”

Then the Bodisat said, “I would teach you regarding this matter; but I am all unclean with my journey.” And the water-sprite bathed the Bodisat, and provided him with food, and brought him water, and decked him with flowers, and anointed him with perfumes, and spread out for him a couch in a beautiful arbour.

And the Bodisat seated himself there, and made the water-sprite sit at his feet, and said, “Give ear then attentively, and listen what divine nature is.” And he uttered the verse--

The pure in heart who fear to sin, The good, kindly in word and deed-- These are the beings in the world, Whose nature should be called divine. And when the water-sprite heard that, his heart was touched, and he said to the Bodisat-- “O, Wise Teacher, in you I place my trust. I will give you up one of your brothers. Which shall I bring?” “Bring me the younger of the two.” “But, Teacher; you who know so well all about the divine nature, do you not act in accordance with it?” “What do you mean?”

And when he had thus magnified the Bodisat with believing heart, he brought forth both the brothers and gave them back to him.

Then said the Bodisat to him, “Friend, it is by reason of evil deeds committed by you in some former birth, that you have been born as an ogre, living on the flesh of other beings. And now you still go on sinning. This thine iniquity will prevent thine ever escaping from rebirth in evil states. From henceforth, therefore, put away evil, and do good!”

With these words he succeeded in converting him. And the ogre being converted, the Bodisat continued to live there under his protection. And one day he saw by the conjunction of the stars that his father was dead. So he took the water-sprite with him and returned to Benares, and took upon himself the kingdom. And he made Moon Prince his heir-apparent, and Sun Prince his commander-in-chief. And for the water-sprite he made a dwelling-place in a pleasant spot, and took care that he should be constantly provided with the best of garlands and flowers and food. And he himself ruled his kingdom in righteousness, until he passed away according to his deeds. * * * * *

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat became a wealthy Brāhman of the north-west country. And perceiving the evils of worldly lusts, and the advantages of the religious life, he abandoned the world, and went to the Himālaya region, and adopted the life of a hermit, and practised the Eight Attainments. And the number of his disciples increased greatly, until he was attended by five hundred ascetics.

So the Bodisat gave the five hundred ascetics in charge to his senior pupil, and sent him away, saying, “You shall go and live with these men in the Himālayas. I will stay here.”

The king, displeased that the ascetic, on seeing him, had not arisen, said to the Bodisat, “Sir, this ascetic must have enjoyed himself to his heart’s content. He lies there, quite at his ease, singing a song!”

“Great king! This ascetic was once a king like you. He is thinking, ‘Formerly, as a layman, even when enjoying royal splendour, and guarded by many men with arms in their hands, I had no such joy as this,’ and he utters this exclamation of joy in reference to the joys of meditation, and to the happiness of the religious life.” And having thus spoken, the Bodisat further uttered this verse in order to instruct the king in righteousness--

When the king had listened to this discourse, he was satisfied again; and taking leave, he returned to the palace. And the disciple, too, took his leave, and returned to the Himālaya region. But the Bodisat dwelt there in continued meditation till he died, and he was then reborn in the Brahma heaven. * * * * *

Long ago, in the city Rājagaha, in the land of Magadha, there ruled a certain king of Magadha. At that time the Bodisat came to life as a deer, and when he grew up he lived in the forest at the head of a herd of a thousand deer. He had two young ones, named Lakkhaṇa (the Beautifully-marked One, ‘Beauty’) and Kāḷa (the Dark One, ‘Brownie’).

So when the Bodisat saw that crop time was at hand, he sent for his sons, and said, “My children! the time of growing crops has come; many deer will come to destruction. We are old, and will get along by some means or another without stirring much abroad. But do you lead your herds away to the mountainous part of the forest, and return when the crops are cut!” “Very well,” said they; and departed with their attendant herds.

And when the Bodisat saw his sons approaching, he held a consultation with the herd of deer, and put together this stanza,--

The righteous man hath profit, and the courteous in speech. Look there at Beauty coming back with all his troop of kindred, Then look at this poor Brownie, deprived of all he had! When he had thus welcomed his son, the Bodisat lived to a good old age, and passed away according to his deeds. * * * * *

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat came to life as a deer. When he was born he was of a golden colour; his eyes were like round jewels, his horns were white as silver, his mouth was red as a cluster of kamala flowers, his hoofs were bright and hard as lacquer-work, his tail as fine as the tail of a Tibetan ox, and his body as large in size as a foal’s.

When the king heard that, he went to the park; and seeing there two golden-coloured deer, he granted them their lives. But thenceforth he would sometimes go himself to shoot a deer, and bring it home; sometimes his cook would go and shoot one. The deer, as soon as they saw the bow, would quake with the fear of death, and take to their heels; but when they had been hit once or twice, they became weary or wounded, and were killed. And the herd of deer told all this to the Bodisat. He sent for the Monkey Deer, and said:

Receiving no help from him, she went to the Bodisat, and told him the matter. He listened to her, and said, “Be it so! Do you go back. I will relieve you of your turn.” And he went himself, and put his neck upon the block of execution, and lay down.

The king no sooner heard it than he mounted his chariot, and proceeded with a great retinue to the place, and beholding the Bodisat, said, “My friend the King of the Deer! did I not grant you your life? Why are you lying here?”

From that time, they say, the sign of the tying of leaves was seen in the fields, and from that time not a single deer trespassed beyond it; for such was the instruction they received from the Bodisat.

And the Bodisat continued thus his life long to instruct the deer, and passed away with his herd according to his deeds.

The king, too, hearkened to the exhortations of the Bodisat, and then, in due time, passed away, according to his deeds. * * * * *

Now the Bodisat of that time was a tree fairy, dwelling in that wood. When he saw what had happened, he said to himself,

Once upon a time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat became a stag, and lived in the forest, with a herd for his retinue.

Then his mother went to her brother, and asked, “How now, brother! was your nephew instructed in the devices of the deer?” “Think no more of that incorrigible fellow!” said the Bodisat. “Your son did not learn the devices of the deer.” And then, to explain his own unwillingness to have anything further to do with him, he uttered this stanza:

Once upon a time there was a king of Magadha reigning in Rājagaha. At that time the Bodisat came to life as a stag, and lived in the forest, attended by a herd of deer. Now his sister brought her son to him, saying, “Brother! instruct this thy nephew in the devices of the deer.”

“Very well,” said the Bodisat, in assent, and directed his nephew, “Go away now, dear, and on your return at such and such a time you may receive instruction.” And he failed not at the time appointed by his uncle, but went to him and received instruction.

“Suspect not your son of any fault,” said the Bodisat. “He has well learnt the devices of the deer. Even now he will come back to us and make you laugh for joy.” And he uttered this stanza:

I’ve trained the deer to be most swift, To drink at midnight only, and, abounding in disguise, To keep in any posture that he likes. Breathing through one nostril hid upon the ground, My nephew, by six tricks at his command Will yet outdo the foe! Thus the Bodisat, pointing out how thoroughly his nephew had learnt the devices of the deer, comforted his sister.

Once upon a time two friends, a lion and a tiger, were living in a certain cave at the foot of a hill. At that time the Bodisat, who had devoted himself to the religious life of a hermit, was living at the foot of that same mountain.

Now one day a dispute arose between the friends about the cold. The tiger said it was cold in the dark half of the month, the lion said it was cold in the light half. And as neither of them could solve the difficulty, they asked the Bodisat, and he uttered this stanza:

“It is whenever the wind blows, In the dark half or in the light. For cold is caused by wind: and so You both are right.” Thus the Bodisat pacified the two friends. * * * * *

At that time the Bodisat had been born as the Genius of a tree growing on that spot. By his supernatural power he now seated himself cross-legged in the sky in the sight of the multitude; and thinking, “Would that these people, seeing thus the fruit of sin, would abstain from such destruction of life,” he in a sweet voice taught them, uttering this stanza:

Thus the Great Being preached to them the Truth, terrifying them with the fear of hell. And when the people had heard his discourse, they trembled with the fear of death, and left off taking life. And the Bodisat, preaching to the people, and establishing them in the Precepts, passed away according to his deeds. The people, too, attending upon the exhortations of the Bodisat, gave gifts, and did other good deeds, and so filled the city of the gods. * * * * *

This was formerly, they say, a densely-wooded forest. And in its lake there was a water-demon, who used to eat whomsoever went down into the water. At that time the Bodisat was a monkey-king, in size like the fawn of a red deer; and attended by a troop of monkeys about eighty thousand in number, he lived in that forest, preserving them from harm.

“Very well,” said they. And one day they went to a place they had not been to before. There they wandered about the greater part of the day; and when, in searching about for water, they found a pond, they sat down without even drinking, and looked forward to the arrival of their king. When the Bodisat had come, he asked them, “Why, my children, do you take no water?” “We awaited your arrival,” said they.

“It is well, my children!” said the Bodisat; and fixing his attention on the foot-marks close round the edge of the pond, he saw that they went down, but never came up. Then he knew that it was assuredly haunted by demons, and said, “You have done well, my children, not to have drunk the water. This pond is haunted!”

But when the demon of the water saw that they were not going down into it, he assumed the horrible shape of a blue-bellied, pale-faced, red-handed, red-footed creature, and came splashing out through the water, and cried out, “Why do you sit still here? Go down and drink the water!” But the Bodisat asked him, “Are you the water-demon who haunts this spot?” “Yes! I am he!” was the reply. “Have you received power over all who go down into the pool?” “Yes, indeed! I carry off even a bird when it comes down, and I let no one off. You too I will devour, one and all!” “We shall not allow you to eat us.” “Well, then! drink away!” “Yes! we shall drink the water too, but we shall not fall into your hands.” “How, then, will you get at the water?”

So saying, the Bodisat had a Naḷa-cane brought to him, and appealing in great solemnity to the Ten Great Perfections (generosity, morality, self-denial, wisdom, perseverance, patience, truth, resolution, kindness, and resignation) exorcised by him in this and previous births, he blew into the cane. And the cane became hollow throughout, not a single knot being left in it. In this manner he had another, and then another, brought, and blew into it. Then the Bodisat walked round the pond, and commanded, saying, “Let all the canes growing here be perforated throughout.” And thenceforward, since through the greatness of the goodness of the Bodisats their commands are fulfilled, all the canes which grew in that pond became perforated throughout. * * * * *

After giving this command, the Bodisat took a cane and seated himself. So, too, those eighty thousand monkeys took, each of them, a cane, and seated themselves round the pond. And at the same moment as he drew the water up into his cane and drank, so, too, they all sat safe on the bank, and drank.

Thus the water-demon got not one of them into his power on their drinking the water, and he returned in sorrow to his own place. But the Bodisat and his troop went back again to the forest. * * * * *

Once upon a time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat became A KURUNGA ANTELOPE and lived in his forest home, feeding on fruits. And at one time he was eating the Sepaṇṇi fruit on a heavily-laden Sepaṇṇi tree.

On seeing, one day, the foot-marks of the Bodisat at the foot of the Sepaṇṇi-tree, he made himself a platform upon it, and having breakfasted early, he took his javelin with him, went to the wood, climbed up the tree, and took his seat on the platform.

The Bodisat, too, left his lair early in the morning, and came up to eat the Sepaṇṇi-fruits; but without going too hastily to the foot of the tree, he thought to himself, “Those platform-hunters sometimes make their platforms on the trees. I wonder can there be any danger of that kind.” And he stopped at a distance to reconnoitre.

But the hunter, when he saw that the Bodisat was not coming on, kept himself quiet, and threw down fruit so that it fell in front of him.

The Bodisat said to himself, “Why, these fruits are coming this way, and falling before me. There must be a hunter up there!” And looking up again and again, he discerned the hunter. Then pretending not to have seen him, he called out, “Hallo, O tree! You have been wont to let your fruit fall straight down, as if you were putting forth a hanging root: but to-day you have given up your tree-nature. So as you have surrendered the characteristics of tree-nature, I shall go and seek my food at the foot of some other tree.” So saying, he uttered this stanza:

The Bodisat turned round, and stopped to cry out, “I tell you, O man, however much you may have lost me this time, the eight Great Hells and the sixteen Ussada Hells, and fivefold bondage and torment--the result of your conduct--these you have not lost!” And so saying, he escaped whither he desired. And the hunter, too, got down, and went whithersoever he pleased. * * * * *

Once upon a time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat, in consequence of an act which would have that effect, came to life as a dog, and lived in a great cemetery attended by a troop of several hundred dogs.

The king, enraged at the dogs, gave orders that dogs should be killed wherever they were seen. So there ensued a wholesale destruction of dogs: and finding there was no safety for them anywhere else, they escaped to the cemetery, and joined themselves to the Bodisat.

The Bodisat asked them the reason of their coming in such numbers together. “People say,” was the answer, “that the leather work and the straps of a carriage in the harem have been gnawed by dogs. The king in his anger has commanded all dogs to be destroyed. Extreme is the danger we are in!”

The Bodisat said to himself, “There’s no opportunity for dogs from outside to get into a place so guarded. It must be the royal dogs from within the palace that have done this thing. And now nothing happens to the thieves, and the innocent are punished with death. What if I were to make the king see who the real culprits are, and so save the lives of my kinsfolk?”

Now the king, after issuing the order for the destruction of the dogs, sat himself down in the seat of judgment. The Bodisat went straight up to the place, and rushing forwards, ran underneath the king’s throne. Thereupon the king’s attendants were about to drive him away, but the king stopped them.

When the king heard what the Bodisat said, he asked, “O Wise One, do you then know who it is has eaten the carriage leather?” “Yes; I know it,” said he. “Who are they then?” “It is the thoroughbreds living in your own house.” “But how can we know they are the guilty ones?” “I will prove it to you.” “Prove it then, O sage!” “Send for the thoroughbreds, and have a little buttermilk and Dabba grass brought in.” The king did so; and the Great Being said, “Have the grass crushed in the buttermilk, and give the dogs to drink.” The king did so; and each of the dogs, as they drank it, vomited it up,--and bits of leather with it.

Then the king was delighted as with a decision by the all-wise Buddha himself; and gave up his sceptre to the Bodisat. But the Bodisat preached the law to the king in the ten verses on righteousness, from the story of the Three Birds, beginning-- Walk righteously, O great king!...

And the king listened to his exhortation, and granted security to all living creatures; and commanded a constant supply of food, like the royal food, for all the dogs from the Bodisat downwards. And he remained firm in the teaching of the Bodisat, and did works of charity and other good deeds his life long, and after death was reborn in the world of the gods.

Now the Exhortation of the Dog flourished for tens of thousands of years. But the Bodisat lived to a good old age and passed away according to his deeds. * * * * *

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat was born into the family of a thoroughbred Bhoja horse, and became the state charger of the king of Benares. He fed out of a priceless golden dish on the most delicious fine old rice; and he stood in a fragrant perfumed stall, hung round with curtains embroidered with flowers, covered with a canopy painted with golden stars, decked with garlands of sweet-smelling flowers, and furnished with a lamp of fragrant oil that was never extinguished.

Whilst the Bodisat lay there as best he could, he opened his eyes, and saw the knight, and said to himself, “He is harnessing another horse. That horse won’t be able to break through the seventh line, or take the seventh king. What I have already done will be lost. The knight, too, who has no equal, will be killed; and the king, too, will fall into the enemy’s power. No other horse, save I alone, can break through that remaining line and take the seventh king.” And lying there as he was, he sent for the knight, and said--

Then the knight helped the Bodisat up, bound up his wound, put on all his harness, seated himself on his back, broke through the seventh line, took the seventh king alive, and delivered him over to the king’s guard.

They led the Bodisat, too, to the king’s gate, and the king went out to see him. Then the Great Being said to the king--

And when the Bodisat had thus exhorted the king, they took off his harness. And as they were taking it off, piece by piece, he breathed his last.

At that moment the eldest of the horses received a wound. The charioteer drove on till he came to the king’s gate, took the elder horse out, loosened his harness, made him lie down on his side, and began to harness another horse. When the Bodisat saw this, he thought as before, sent for the charioteer, and lying as he was, uttered this stanza:

The charioteer helped the Bodisat up, harnessed him, broke through the seventh line, and bringing the seventh king with him, drove up to the king’s gate and took out the horse.

The Bodisat, lying there on his side, exhorted the king as before, and then breathed his last. The king performed funeral rites over his body, did honour to the charioteer, ruled his kingdom with righteousness, and passed away according to his deeds. * * * * *

Once upon a time Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, and the Bodisat was his adviser in things spiritual and temporal.

The king sent for the Bodisat, and said, “Do you go, Paṇḍit, and find out why the horse won’t go into the water when he is led down to the ford.”

Then the Bodisat saw it was his vanity that made him wish not to be bathed there, and that he ought to be taken to some other pond. So he said, “Look you, horsekeeper, even if a man gets the finest milky rice with the most delicious curry to eat, he will tire of it sooner or later. This horse has been bathed often enough at the ford here, take him to some other ford to rub him down and feed him.” And so saying, he uttered the verse--

When they heard what he said, they took the horse to another ford, and there bathed and fed him. And as they were rubbing down the horse after watering him, the Bodisat went back to the king. The king said, “Well, friend! has the horse had his bath and his drink?” “It has, my Lord!” “Why, then, did it refuse at first?” “Just in this way,” said he; and told him all.

The king gave the Bodisat much honour, saying, “He understands the motives even of such an animal as this. How wise he is!” And at the end of this life he passed away according to his deeds. And the Bodisat too passed away according to his deeds.

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat became his minister. At that time the king had a state elephant, named ‘Girly-face,’ who was good and gentle, and would hurt nobody.

So they told the king that ‘Girly-face’ had gone mad, and killed every one he caught sight of. The King sent the Bodisat, saying, “Do you go, Paṇḍit, and find out what’s the reason of his having become a Rogue!”

The Bodisat went there, and finding he had no bodily ailment, thought over what the reason could be; and came to the conclusion that he must have become a Rogue after overhearing some conversation or other, and thinking it was meant as a lesson for him. So he asked the elephant keepers, “Has there been any talking going on at night time, near the stable?” “O yes, sir! Some thieves used to come and talk together,” was the reply.

The Bodisat went away, and told the king, “There is nothing bodily the matter with the elephant, your Majesty; it is simply from hearing robbers talk that he has become a Rogue.” “Well; what ought we to do now?”

“Then do so, my friend,” said the king. And the Bodisat got holy men to sit near the elephant’s stall, telling them to talk of holy things.

On hearing this, he thought, “It is me these men are teaching; from this time forth I am to be good!” And so he became tame and quiet. The king asked the Bodisat, “How is it, my friend? Is he quieted?”

Then the king gave great honour to the Bodisat for understanding the motives even of one born as an animal. And he lived to a good old age, and, with the Bodisat, passed away according to his deeds. * * * * *

Now one day the monks sat talking in the Lecture Hall about their intimacy. When the Teacher came, he asked them what they were talking about, and they told him. Then he said, “Not now only, O mendicants, have these been close allies; they were so also in a former birth.” And he told a tale. * * * * * Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat became his minister.

But one day there came a peasant who gave the elephant-keeper money for the dog, and took it back with him to his village. From that time the elephant, missing the dog, would neither eat nor drink nor bathe. And they let the king know about it. He sent the Bodisat, saying, “Do you go, Paṇḍit, and find out what’s the cause of the elephant’s behaviour.”

Then the Bodisat went and told the king, “There’s nothing the matter with the elephant, your majesty; but he was great friends with a dog, and I fancy it’s through missing it that he refuses his food.” And so saying, he uttered the stanza:

The king did so; and as soon as he heard of it, the man turned the dog loose. The dog hastened back, and went close up to the elephant. The elephant took him up in his trunk, and placed him on his forehead, and wept and cried, and took him down again, and watched him as he fed. And then he took his own food. Then the king paid great honour to the Bodisat for knowing the motives even of animals. * * * * *

Long ago a king of Gandhāra was reigning in Takkasilā, in the land of Gandhāra. The Bodisat came to life then as a bull.

When the Bodisat grew up, he said to himself, “This Brāhman has brought me up with great care; and there’s no other ox in all the continent of India can drag the weight I can. What if I were to let the Brāhman know about my strength, and so in my turn provide sustenance for him!”

The Bodisat said to himself, “He addresses me as a wretch. I am no wretch!” And keeping his four legs as firm as so many posts, he stood perfectly still.

And the Bodisat, with one mighty effort, dragged forwards the hundred heavily-laden carts, and brought the hindmost one up to the place where the foremost one had stood!

Then the cattle-owner acknowledged himself beaten, and handed over to the Brāhman the two thousand; the bystanders, too, presented the Bodisat with a large sum; and the whole became the property of the Brāhman. Thus, by means of the Bodisat, great was the wealth he acquired. * * * * *

When the Teacher came there, he asked them what they were discussing, and they told him. Then he said, “O mendicants! who should now bear the yoke that I can bear? For even when an animal in a former birth I could find no one to drag the weight I dragged.” And he told a tale. * * * * * Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat returned to life as a bull.

The Bodisat was grazing with the village cattle close to the ford. The young caravan owner was a famous judge of cattle, and began looking about to see whether there were among them any thoroughbred bull able to drag over the carts. Seeing the Bodisat, he thought he would do; and asked the herdsmen--

But when he began to put a string through his nose and drag him along, he could not get him to come. For the Bodisat, it is said, wouldn’t go till he was promised a reward.

Then the Bodisat went along of his own accord. And the men yoked him to the cart. And with a mighty effort he dragged it up and landed it safe on the high ground. And in the same manner he dragged up all the carts.

And she bathed him in warm water, and rubbed him all over with oil, and gave him to drink, and fed him up with good food. And at the end of her life she passed away according to her deeds, and the Bodisat with her. * * * * *

When the Teacher had finished this lesson in virtue, in illustration of that saying of his (“Not now only, O mendicants, has the Bodisat been excellent in power; he was so also in a former birth”), he made the connexion, and, as Buddha, uttered the following stanza: Whene’er the load be heavy, Where’er the ruts be deep, Let them yoke ‘Blackie’ then, And he will drag the load!

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat came to life in the house of a landed proprietor in a certain village as an ox, with the name of ’Big-red.’ And he had a younger brother called ‘Little-red.’ And all the carting work in the household was carried on by means of the two brothers.

Then his brother said to him, “Dear Little-red, don’t envy the creature his food! This poor pig is eating the food of death! These people are fattening the pig to provide a feast for the guests at their daughter’s wedding. But a few days more, and you shall see how these men will come and seize the pig by his legs, and drag him off out of his sty, and deprive him of his life, and make curry for the guests!” And so saying, he uttered the following stanza: “Envy not ‘Sausages!’ ’Tis deadly food he eats! Eat your chaff, and be content; ’Tis the sign of length of life!” And, not long after, those men came there; and they killed ‘Sausages,’ and cooked him up in various ways. Then the Bodisat said to Little-red, “Have you seen ’Sausages,’ my dear?”

At that time the Bodisat (just as he who is now Sakka was once born in the village of Macala in Magadha) was born in that very village as a nobleman’s son. On the naming-day they gave him the name of Prince Magha, and when he grew up he was known as ‘Magha the young Brāhman.’

In that village there were as many as thirty families; and one day the men of those families stopped in the middle of the village to transact some village business. The Bodisat removed with his feet the lumps of soil on the place where he stood, and made the spot convenient to stand on; but another came up and stood there. Then he smoothed out another spot, and took his stand there; but another man came and stood upon it. Still the Bodisat tried again and again with the same result, until he had made convenient standing-room for all the thirty.

The next time he had an open-roofed shed put up there; and then pulled that down, and built a hall, and had benches spread in it, and a water-pot placed there. On another occasion those thirty men were reconciled by the Bodisat, who confirmed them in the Five Commandments; and thenceforward he continued with them in works of piety.

Whilst they were so living they used to rise up early, go out with bill-hooks and crowbars in their hands, tear up with the crowbars the stones in the four high roads and village paths, and roll them away, take away the trees which would be in the way of vehicles, make the rough places plain, form causeways, dig ponds, build public halls, give gifts, and keep the Commandments--thus, in many ways, all the dwellers in the village listened to the exhortations of the Bodisat, and kept the Commandments.

Then they made them all lie down in the courtyard, and fetched the elephant. And the Bodisat exhorted them, saying, “Keep the Commandments in mind. Regard them all--the slanderer, and the king, and the elephant--with feelings as kind as you harbour towards yourselves!” And they did so.

The officials asked them, and the Bodisat said there was. And they told the king, and he had them all called before him, and said, “Tell me that spell you know!”

Then the Bodisat spoke, and said, “O king! we have no other spell but this--that we destroy no life, not even of grass; that we take nothing which is not given to us; that we are never guilty of unchastity, nor speak falsehood, nor drink intoxicants; that we exercise ourselves in love, and give gifts; that we make rough places plain, dig ponds, and put up rest-houses--this is our spell, this is our defence, this is our strength!”

Now at that time there were four women in the Bodisat’s household, named Piety, Thoughtful, Pleasing, and Well-born. Piety took an opportunity of meeting the builder alone, and gave him a bribe, and said to him, “Brother! manage somehow to give me a share in this rest-house.”

And the Bodisat fulfilled the seven religious duties--that is, to support one’s mother, to support one’s father, to pay honour to age, to speak truth, not to speak harshly, not to abuse others, and to avoid a selfish, envious, niggardly disposition.

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benares, the Bodisat came to life as a quail; and lived in a forest at the head of a flock many thousands in number.

Now one day the Bodisat said to the quails, “This fowler is bringing our kith and kin to destruction! Now I know a stratagem to prevent his catching us. In future, as soon as he has thrown the net over you, let each one put his head through a mesh of the net, then all lift it up together, so as to carry it off to any place we like, and then let it down on to a thorn bush. When that is done, we shall each be able to escape from his place under the net!”

To this they all agreed; and the next day, as soon as the net was thrown, they lifted it up just in the way the Bodisat had told them, threw it on a thorn bush, and got away themselves from underneath. And whilst the fowler was disentangling his net from the bush, darkness had come on. And he had to go empty-handed away.

When they were so quarrelling, the Bodisat thought, “There is no depending for safety upon a quarrelsome man! No longer will these fellows lift up the net; so they will come to great destruction, and the fowler will get his chance again. I dare not stay here any more!” And he went off with his more immediate followers to some other place.

Then the Master said, “O Brother! this woman does you harm. In a former birth also you were just being killed through her when I came up and saved you.” And he told a tale. * * * * * Once upon a time, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benāres, the Bodisat became his private chaplain.

The Bodisat took it up in his hands, seated himself at the river-side, and said to it, “My good fish! Had I not caught sight of you this day, you would have lost your life. Now henceforth sin no more!” And so exhorting it, he threw it into the water, and returned to the city. * * * * *

Long ago the Bodisat entered upon a new existence as a quail in this very spot, in the land of Magadha; and after having been born in the egg, and having got out of the shell, he became a young quail, in size like a big partridge. And his parents made him lie still in the nest, and fed him with food they brought in their beaks. And he had no power either to stretch out his wings and fly through the air, nor to put out his legs and walk on the earth.

Now that place was consumed year after year by a jungle fire. And just at that time the jungle fire came on with a mighty roar and seized upon it. The flocks of birds rose up, each from his nest, and flew away shrieking. And the Bodisat’s parents too, terrified with the fear of death, forsook the Bodisat, and fled.

When the Bodisat, lying there as he was, stretched forth his neck, and saw the conflagration spreading towards him, he thought: “If I had the power of stretching my wings and flying in the air, or of putting out my legs, and walking on the ground, I could get away to some other place. But I can’t! And my parents too, terrified with the fear of death, have left me all alone, and flown away to save themselves. No other help can I expect from others, and in myself I find no help. What in the world shall I do now!”

Then the Bodisat called to mind the attributes of the Buddhas who had long since passed away; and, making a solemn asseveration of the true faith existing in himself, he performed the Act of Truth, uttering the verse--

And as that spot has escaped being overwhelmed by fire through all this kalpa, this is said to be ‘a kalpa-enduring miracle.’ The Bodisat having thus performed the Act of Truth, passed away, at the end of his life, according to his deeds. * * * * *

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benāres, the Bodisat came to life again as a bird, and lived a forest life, attended by a flock of birds, near a lofty tree, with branches forking out on every side.

Now one day dust began to fall as the branches of the tree rubbed one against another. Then smoke began to rise. The Bodisat thought, on seeing this,--

Then such of the birds as were wise, and hearkened to the voice of the Bodisat, flew up at once with him into the air, and went elsewhere. But such as were foolish said one to another, “Just so! Just so! He’s always seeing crocodiles in a drop of water!” And paying no attention to what he said, they stopped there.

And not long afterwards fire was produced precisely in the way the Bodisat had foreseen, and the tree caught fire. And smoke and flames rising aloft, the birds were blinded by the smoke; they could not get away, and one after another they fell into the fire, and were burnt to death! * * * * *

When the Teacher had finished this discourse with the words, “Thus formerly, O monk, even the birds dwelling on the tree-tops knew which place would suit them and which would not. How is it that you knew it not?” he proclaimed the Truths. At the conclusion of the Truths the monk was established in Conversion. And the Teacher made the connexion, and summed up the Jātaka, “The birds who at that time listened to the voice of the Bodisat were the followers of the Buddha, but the Wise Bird was I myself.”

Then the Teacher said, “Not now only has the Jetavana robe-maker taken other people in in this way, in a former birth he did the same. And not now only has he been outwitted by the countryman, in a former birth he was outwitted too.” And he told a tale. * * * * * Long ago the Bodisat was born to a forest life as the Genius of a tree standing near a certain lotus pond.

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benāres, the Bodisat came to life again as a landowner. He had a friend, also a landowner, who was old himself, but whose wife was young. She had a son by him; and he said to himself--

“This slave goes to the place fully intending to point out the treasure; but as soon as he gets there, he begins to be insolent. I don’t understand the reason of this. But there’s that squire, my father’s friend. I’ll ask him about it, and find out what it is.” So he went to the Bodisat, told him the whole matter, and asked him the reason of it.

Then said the Bodisat, “On the very spot, my young friend, where Nanda stands when he is insolent, there must your father’s treasure be. So as soon as Nanda begins to abuse you, you should answer, ‘Come now, slave, who is it you’re talking to?’ drag him down, take the spade, dig into that spot, take out the treasure, and then make the slave lift it up and carry it home!” And so saying he uttered this verse--

Then the young squire took leave of the Bodisat, went home, took Nanda with him to the place where the treasure was, acted exactly as he had been told, brought back the treasure, put the family estates into order; and following the exhortations of the Bodisat, gave gifts, and did other good works, and at the end of his life passed away according to his deeds.

Long ago, when Brahma-datta was reigning in Benāres, the Bodisat came to life in the family of the Treasurer of Benāres, and was brought up in much luxury, like a prince. And he arrived in due course at years of discretion; and even when he was but sixteen years old he had gained the mastery over all branches of knowledge.

Now one day when pleasant food of all sweet tastes was being taken in for the Bodisat at breakfast-time, a Pacceka Buddha, who had risen from a seven days’ trance, saw that the time had come for him to seek for food. And thinking he ought to go that day to the door of the Benāres Treasurer’s house, he washed his face with water from the Anotatta lake, and used a toothpick made from the betel-creeper, put on his lower robe as he stood on the table-land of Mount Manosilā, fastened on his girdle, robed himself, took a begging-bowl he created for the purpose, went through the sky, and stood at the door of the house just as the breakfast was being taken in to the Bodisat. As soon as the Bodisat saw him, he rose from his seat, and looked at a servant who was making the preparations. “What shall I do, Sir?” said he. “Bring the gentleman’s bowl,” said his master.

And he went at once and caused a pit of live coals, eighty fathoms deep, to appear in the midst of the house. And it was full of charcoal of Acacia-wood; and appeared burning and flaming, like the great hell of Avīci. And after creating it, he himself remained in the sky. When the man, who was coming to fetch the bowl, saw this, he was exceeding terrified, and stopped still. “What are you stopping for, my good man?” asked the Bodisat.

Then thought the Bodisat, “Vasavatti Māra must be exerting himself with the hope of putting an obstacle in the way of my almsgiving. But I am not aware that I can be shaken by a hundred or even a thousand Māras. This day I will find out whether my power or Māra’s--whether my might or Māra’s--is the greater.”

And that instant there arose a beautiful large lotus-flower, up and up, from the bottom of the depth of the fiery pit, and received the feet of the Bodisat. And from it there came up about a peck of pollen, and fell on the Great Being’s head, and covered his whole body with a sprinkling of golden dust. Then standing in the midst of the lotus-flower, he poured the food into the Pacceka Buddha’s bowl.

But the Bodisat, still standing on the lotus, preached the Law to the people in praise of charity and righteousness; and then returned to his house, surrounded by the multitude. And he gave gifts, and did other good works his life long, and then passed away according to his deeds. * * * * *

Whilst she thus religiously observed the rules of a pure discipline, Bodhisattva was born from her right side, come to deliver the world, constrained by great pity, without causing his mother pain or anguish. As king Yu-liu was born from the thigh, as King Pi-t'au was born from the hand, as King Man-to was born from the top of the head, as King Kia-k'ha was born from the arm-pit, so also was Bodhisattva on the day of his birth produced from the right side; gradually emerging from the womb, he shed in every direction the rays of his glory. As one born from recumbent space, and not through the gates of life, through countless kalpas, practising virtue, self-conscious he came forth to life, without confusion. Calm and collected, not falling headlong was he born, gloriously manifested, perfectly adorned, sparkling with light he came from the womb, as when the sun first rises from the East.

Men indeed regarded his exceeding great glory, yet their sight remained uninjured: he allowed them to gaze, the brightness of his person concealed for the time, as when we look upon the moon in the heavens. His body, nevertheless, was effulgent with light, and like the sun which eclipses the shining of the lamp, so the true gold-like beauty of Bodhisattva shone forth, and was diffused everywhere. Upright and firm and unconfused in mind, he deliberately took seven steps, the soles of his feet resting evenly upon the ground as he went, his footmarks remained bright as seven stars.

Then the Nâga-râgas filled with joy, earnestly desiring to show their reverence for the most excellent law, as they had paid honor to the former Buddhas, now went to meet Bodhisattva; they scattered before him Mandâra flowers, rejoicing with heartfelt joy to pay such religious homage; and so, again, Tathâgata having appeared in the world, the Suddha angels rejoiced with gladness; with no selfish or partial joy, but for the sake of religion they rejoiced, because creation, engulfed in the ocean of pain, was now to obtain perfect release.

Then the precious Mountain-râga, Sumeru, firmly holding this great earth when Bodhisattva appeared in the world, was swayed by the wind of his perfected merit. On every hand the world was greatly shaken, as the wind drives the tossing boat; so also the minutest atoms of sandal perfume, and the hidden sweetness of precious lilies floated on the air, and rose through space, and then commingling, came back to earth; so again the garments of Devas descending from heaven touching the body, caused delightful thrills of joy; the sun and moon with constant course redoubled the brilliancy of their light, whilst in the world the fire's gleam of itself prevailed without the use of fuel. Pure water, cool and refreshing from the springs, flowed here and there, self-caused; in the palace all the waiting women were filled with joy at such an unprecedented event. Proceeding all in company, they drink and bathe themselves; in all arose calm and delightful thoughts; countless inferior Devas, delighting in religion, like clouds assembled.

Just as when a country visited by desolation, suddenly obtains an enlightened ruler, so when Bodhisattva was born, he came to remove the sorrows of all living things.

Like as in the first days of the kalpa, Rishi-kings by the way in which they walked, practising pure and spotless deeds, offered up religious offerings, without harm to living thing, and illustriously prepared an excellent karma, so the king excelling in the excellence of purity in family and excellence of wealth, excelling in strength and every exhibition of prowess, reflected the glory of his name through the world, as the sun sheds abroad his thousand rays. But now, being the king of men, or a king among men, he deemed it right to exhibit his son's prowess, for the sake of his family and kin, to exhibit him; to increase his family's renown, his glory spread so high as even to obtain the name of "God begotten;" and having partaken of these heavenly joys, enjoying the happiness of increased wisdom; understanding the truth by his own righteousness, derived from previous hearing of the truth. Would that this might lead my son, he prayed, to love his child and not forsake his home; the kings of all countries, whose sons have not yet grown up, have prevented them exercising authority in the empire, in order to give their minds relaxation, and for this purpose have provided them with worldly indulgences, so that they may perpetuate the royal seed; so now the king, having begotten a royal son, indulged him in every sort of pleasure; desiring that he might enjoy these worldly delights, and not wish to wander from his home in search of wisdom. In former times the Bodhisattva kings, although their way (life) has been restrained, have yet enjoyed the pleasures of the world, and when they have begotten a son, then separating themselves from family ties, have afterwards entered the solitude of the mountains, to prepare themselves in the way of a silent recluse.

Bodhisattva, who had long prepared the foundation of pure and spotless wisdom, broadly setting the root of every high quality, with a view to gather large fruit in his present life, hearing these words respecting the sorrow of age, was afflicted in mind, and his hair stood upright. Just as the roll of the thunder and the storm alarm and put to flight the cattle, so was Bodhisattva affected by the words; shaking with apprehension, he deeply sighed; constrained at heart because of the pain of age; with shaking head and constant gaze, he thought upon this misery of decay; what joy or pleasure can men take, he thought, in that which soon must wither, stricken by the marks of age; affecting all without exception; though gifted now with youth and strength, yet not one but soon must change and pine away. The eye beholding such signs as these before it, how can it not be oppressed by a desire to escape? Bodhisattva then addressed his charioteer: "Quickly turn your chariot and go back. Ever thinking on this subject of old age approaching, what pleasures now can these gardens afford, the years of my life like the fast-flying wind; turn your chariot, and with speedy wheels take me to my palace." And so his heart keeping in the same sad tone, he was as one who returns to a place of entombment; unaffected by any engagement or employment, so he found no rest in anything within his home.

The king, hearing once more of his son's return, asked anxiously the reason why, and in reply was told--"he saw the pain of sickness." The king, in fear, like one beside himself, roundly blamed the keepers of the way; his heart constrained, his lips spoke not; again he increased the crowd of music-women, the sounds of merriment twice louder than aforetime, if by these sounds and sights the prince might be gratified; and indulging worldly feelings, might not hate his home. Night and day the charm of melody increased, but his heart was still unmoved by it. The king himself then went forth to observe everything successively, and to make the gardens even yet more attractive, selecting with care the attendant women, that they might excel in every point of personal beauty; quick in wit and able to arrange matters well, fit to ensnare men by their winning looks; he placed additional keepers along the king's way, he strictly ordered every offensive sight to be removed, and earnestly exhorted the illustrious coachman, to look well and pick out the road as he went. And now that Deva of the Pure abode, again caused the appearance of a dead man; four persons carrying the corpse lifted it on high, and appeared (to be going on) in front of Bodhisattva; the surrounding people saw it not, but only Bodhisattva and the charioteer. Once more he asked, "What is this they carry? with streamers and flowers of every choice description, whilst the followers are overwhelmed with grief, tearing their hair and wailing piteously." And now the gods instructing the coachman, he replied and said, "This is a dead man: all his powers of body destroyed, life departed; his heart without thought, his intellect dispersed; his spirit gone, his form withered and decayed; stretched out as a dead log; family ties broken--all his friends who once loved him, clad in white cerements, now no longer delighting to behold him, remove him to lie in some hollow ditch tomb." The prince hearing the name of Death, his heart constrained by painful thoughts, he asked, "Is this the only dead man, or does the world contain like instances?" Replying thus he said, "All, everywhere, the same; he who begins his life must end it likewise; the strong and lusty and the middle-aged, having a body, cannot but decay and die." The prince was now harassed and perplexed in mind; his body bent upon the chariot leaning-board, with bated breath and struggling accents, stammered thus, "Oh worldly men! how fatally deluded! beholding everywhere the body brought to dust, yet everywhere the more carelessly living; the heart is neither lifeless wood nor stone, and yet it thinks not 'all is vanishing!'" Then turning, he directed his chariot to go back, and no longer waste his time in wandering. How could he, whilst in fear of instant death, go wandering here and there with lightened heart! The charioteer remembering the king's exhortation feared much nor dared go back; straightforward then he pressed his panting steeds, passed onward to the gardens, came to the groves and babbling streams of crystal water, the pleasant trees, spread out with gaudy verdure, the noble living things and varied beasts so wonderful, the flying creatures and their notes melodious; all charming and delightful to the eye and ear, even as the heavenly Nandavana.

On the prince entering the garden the women came around to pay him court; and to arouse in him thoughts frivolous; with ogling ways and deep design, each one setting herself off to best advantage; or joining together in harmonious concert, clapping their hands, or moving their feet in unison, or joining close, body to body, limb to limb; or indulging in smart repartees, and mutual smiles; or assuming a thoughtful saddened countenance, and so by sympathy to please the prince, and provoke in him a heart affected by love. But all the women beheld the prince, clouded in brow, and his god-like body not exhibiting its wonted signs of beauty; fair in bodily appearance, surpassingly lovely, all looked upwards as they gazed, as when we call upon the moon Deva to come; but all their subtle devices were ineffectual to move Bodhisattva's heart.

[Footnote 96: The description here given of the peace and content prevailing in the world on the birth of Bodhisattva (and his name given to him in consequence) resembles the account of the golden age in classic authors.]

The prince, on his part, with respectful mien addressed to them polite salutation. Then Bodhisattva, looking with care in every direction on the Brahmakârins occupying the wood, each engaged in his religious duties, all desirous of the delights of heaven, addressed the senior Brahmakârin, and asked him as to the path of true religion. "Now having just come here, I do not yet know the rules of your religious life. I ask you therefore for information, and I pray explain to me what I ask."

Then Bodhisattva answered the Brahmakârins and told them what his desires were: "I am seeking for a true method of escape, I desire solely to destroy all mundane influences; but you, with strong hearts, practise your rules as ascetics, and pay respectful attention to such visitors as may come. My heart indeed is moved with affection towards you, for pleasant conversation is agreeable to all, those who listen are affected thereby; and so hearing your words, my mind is strengthened in religious feeling; you indeed have all paid me much respect, in agreement with the courtesy of your religious profession; but now I am constrained to depart, my heart grieves thereat exceedingly: first of all, having left my own kindred, and now about to be separated from you. The pain of separation from associates, this pain is as great as the other; it is impossible for my mind not to grieve, as it is not to see others' faults. But you, by suffering pain, desire earnestly to obtain the joys of birth in heaven; whilst I desire to escape from the three worlds, and therefore I give up what my reason tells me must be rejected. The law which you practise, you inherit from the deeds of former teachers, but I, desiring to destroy all combination, seek a law which admits of no such accident. And, therefore, I cannot in this grove delay for a longer while in fruitless discussions."

At this time all the Brahmakârins, hearing the words spoken by Bodhisattva, words full of right reason and truth, very excellent in the distinction of principles, their hearts rejoiced and exulted greatly, and deep feelings of reverence were excited within them.

Bodhisattva having listened to these words, left the company of the Rishis, whilst they all, turning round him to the right, returned to their place.

And now Yasodharâ, deeply chiding, spoke thus to Kandaka: "Where now dwells he, who ever dwells within my mind? You two went forth, the horse a third, but now two only have returned! My heart is utterly o'erborne with grief, filled with anxious thoughts, it cannot rest. And you, deceitful man! Untrustworthy and false associate! evil contriver! plainly revealed a traitor, a smile lurks underneath thy tears! Escorting him in going; returning now with wails! Not one at heart--but in league against him--openly constituted a friend and well-wisher, concealing underneath a treacherous purpose; so thou hast caused the sacred prince to go forth once and not return again! No questioning the joy you feel! Having done ill you now enjoy the fruit; better far to dwell with an enemy of wisdom, than work with one who, while a fool, professes friendship. Openly professing sweetness and light, inwardly a scheming and destructive enemy. And now this royal and kingly house, in one short morn is crushed and ruined! All these fair and queen-like women, with grief o'erwhelmed, their beauty marred, their breathing choked with tears and sobs, their faces soiled with crossing tracks of grief! Even the queen (Mâyâ) when in life, resting herself on him, as the great snowy mountains repose upon the widening earth, through grief in thought of what would happen, died. How sad the lot of these--within these open lattices--these weeping ones, these deeply wailing! Born in another state than hers in heaven, how can their grief be borne!" Then speaking to the horse she said, "Thou unjust! what dulness this--to carry off a man, as in the darkness some wicked thief bears off a precious gem. When riding thee in time of battle, swords, and javelins and arrows, none of these alarmed or frighted thee! But now what fitfulness of temper this, to carry off by violence, to rob my soul of one, the choicest jewel of his tribe. O! thou art but a vicious reptile, to do such wickedness as this! to-day thy woeful lamentation sounds everywhere within these palace walls, but when you stole away my cherished one, why wert thou dumb and silent then! if then thy voice had sounded loud, and roused the palace inmates from their sleep, if then they had awoke and slumbered not, there would not have ensued the present sorrow."

Bodhisattva, hearing of his father the king, experienced the greatest distress of mind, and sitting still, gave himself to reflection; and then, in due course, replied respectfully: "I know indeed that my royal father is possessed of a loving and deeply considerate mind, but my fear of birth, old age, disease, and death, has led me to disobey, and disregard his extreme kindness. Whoever neglects right consideration about his present life, and because he hopes to escape in the end, therefore disregards all precautions in the present: on this man comes the inevitable doom of death. It is the knowledge of this, therefore, that weighs with me, and after long delay has constrained me to a hermit's life; hearing of my father, the king, and his grief, my heart is affected with increased love; but yet, all is like the fancy of a dream, quickly reverting to nothingness. Know then, without fear of contradiction, that the nature of existing things is not uniform; the cause of sorrow is not necessarily the relationship of child with parent, but that which produces the pain of separation, results from the influence of delusion; as men going along a road suddenly meet midway with others, and then a moment more are separated, each one going his own way, so by the force of concomitance, relationships are framed, and then, according to each one's destiny, there is separation; he who thoroughly investigates this false connection of relationship ought not to cherish in himself grief; in this world there is rupture of family love, in another life it is sought for again; brought together for a moment, again rudely divided, everywhere the fetters of kindred are formed! Ever being bound, and ever being loosened! who can sufficiently lament such constant separations; born into the world, and then gradually changing, constantly separated by death and then born again. All things which exist in time must perish; the forests and mountains, all things that exist; in time are born all sensuous things, so is it both with worldly substance and with time. Because, then, death pervades all time, get rid of death, and time will disappear. You desire to make me king, and it is difficult to resist the offices of love; but as a disease is difficult to bear without medicine, so neither can I bear this weight of dignity; in every condition, high or low, we find folly and ignorance, and men carelessly following the dictates of lustful passion; at last, we come to live in constant fear; thinking anxiously of the outward form, the spirit droops; following the ways of men, the mind resists the right; but, the conduct of the wise is not so. The sumptuously ornamented and splendid palace I look upon as filled with fire; the hundred dainty dishes of the divine kitchen, as mingled with destructive poisons; the lily growing on the tranquil lake, in its midst harbors countless noisome insects; and so the towering abode of the rich is the house of calamity; the wise will not dwell therein. In former times illustrious kings, seeing the many crimes of their home and country, affecting as with poison the dwellers therein, in sorrowful disgust sought comfort in seclusion; we know, therefore, that the troubles of a royal estate are not to be compared with the repose of a religious life; far better dwell in the wild mountains, and eat the herbs like the beasts of the field; therefore I dare not dwell in the wide palace, for the black snake has its dwelling there. I reject the kingly estate and the five desires; to escape such sorrows I wander through the mountain wilds. This, then, would be the consequence of compliance: that I, who, delighting in religion, am gradually getting wisdom, should now quit these quiet woods, and returning home, partake of sensual pleasures, and thus by night and day increase my store of misery. Surely this is not what should be done! that the great leader of an illustrious tribe, having left his home from love of religion, and forever turned his back upon tribal honor, desiring to confirm his purpose as a leader--that he--discarding outward form, clad in religious garb, loving religious meditation, wandering through the wilds--should now reject his hermit vestment, tread down his sense of proper shame and give up his aim. This, though I gained heaven's kingly state, cannot be done! how much less to gain an earthly, though distinguished, home!

And now beholding the dignity of Bodhisattva, every outward gesture under government, sitting with ease upon the mountain crag, as the moon shining limpid in the pure heavens, so was his matchless beauty and purity of grace; then as the converting presence of religion dwelling within the heart makes it reverential, so, beholding him, he reverently approached, even as divine Sâkara comes to the presence of Mo-hi-su-ma, so with every outward form of courtesy and reverence the king approached and asked him respectfully of his welfare.

Bodhisattva, his heart inwardly acquiescing, purposing to accomplish his prayer, departing, pursued his road, going to the place where Ârâda Kâlâma dwelt; whilst the king with all his retinue, their hands clasped, themselves followed a little space, then with thoughtful and mindful heart, returned once more to Râgagriha!

The child of the glorious sun of the Ikshvâku race, going to that quiet peaceful grove, reverently stood before the Muni, the great Rishi Ârâda Râma; the dark-clad followers of the Kalam (Sanghârâma) seeing afar-off Bodhisattva approaching, with loud voice raised a joyful chant, and with suppressed breath muttered "Welcome," as with clasped hands they reverenced him. Approaching one another, they made mutual inquiries; and this being done, with the usual apologies, according to their precedence in age they sat down; the Brahmakârins observing the prince, beheld his personal beauty and carefully considered his appearance; respectfully they satisfied themselves of his high qualities, like those who, thirsty, drink the "pure dew." Then with raised hands they addressed the prince: "Have you been long an ascetic, divided from your family and broken from the bonds of love, like the elephant who has cast off restraint? Full of wisdom, completely enlightened, you seem well able to escape the poisonous fruit of this world. In old time the monarch Ming Shing gave up his kingly estate to his son, as a man who has carried a flowery wreath, when withered casts it away: but such is not your case, full of youthful vigor, and yet not enamoured with the condition of a holy king; we see that your will is strong and fixed, capable of becoming a vessel of the true law, able to embark in the boat of wisdom, and to cross over the sea of life and death. The common class, enticed to come to learn, their talents first are tested, then they are taught; but as I understand your case, your mind is already fixed and your will firm; and now you have undertaken the purpose of learning, I am persuaded you will not in the end shrink from it."

Going on then to the place of Udra Rishi, he also expatiated on this question of "I." But although he refined the matter to the utmost, laying down a term of "thought" and "no thought" taking the position of removing "thought" and "no thought," yet even so he came not out of the mire; for supposing creatures attained that state, still (he said) there is a possibility of returning to the coil, whilst Bodhisattva sought a method of getting out of it. So once more leaving Udra Rishi, he went on in search of a better system, and came at last to Mount Kia-ke (the forest of mortification), where was a town called Pain-suffering forest. Here the five Bhikshus had gone before. When then he beheld these five, virtuously keeping in check their senses, holding to the rules of moral conduct, practising mortification, dwelling in that grove of mortification; occupying a spot beside the Nairañgana river, perfectly composed and filled with contentment, Bodhisattva forthwith by them selecting one spot, quietly gave himself to thought. The five Bhikshus knowing him with earnest heart to be seeking escape, offered him their services with devotion, as if reverencing Isvara Deva.

Having finished their attentions and dutiful services, then going on he took his seat not far off, as one about to enter on a course of religious practice, composing all his members as he desired. Bodhisattva diligently applied himself to "means," as one about to cross over old age, disease, and death. With full purpose of heart he set himself to endure mortification, to restrain every bodily passion, and give up thought about sustenance, with purity of heart to observe the fast-rules, which no worldly man can bear; silent and still, lost in thoughtful meditation; and so for six years he continued, each day eating one hemp grain, his bodily form shrunken and attenuated, seeking how to cross the sea of birth and death, exercising himself still deeper and advancing further; making his way perfect by the disentanglements of true wisdom, not eating, and yet not looking to that as a cause of emancipation, his four members although exceedingly weak, his heart of wisdom increasing yet more and more in light; his spirit free, his body light and refined, his name spreading far and wide, as "highly gifted," even as the moon when first produced, or as the Kumuda flower spreading out its sweetness. Everywhere through the country his excellent fame extended; the daughters of the lord of the place both coming to see him, his mortified body like a withered branch, just completing the period of six years, fearing the sorrow of birth and death, seeking earnestly the method of true wisdom, he came to the conviction that these were not the means to extinguish desire and produce ecstatic contemplation; nor yet the means by which in former time, seated underneath the Gambu tree, he arrived at that miraculous condition, that surely was the proper way, he thought, the way opposed to this of "withered body."

Having carefully considered this principle, bathing in the Nairañgana river, he desired afterwards to leave the water, but owing to extreme exhaustion was unable to rise; then a heavenly spirit holding out a branch, taking this in his hand he raised himself and came forth. At this time on the opposite side of the grove there was a certain chief herdsman, whose eldest daughter was called Nandâ. One of the Suddhavâsa Devas addressing her said, "Bodhisattva dwells in the grove, go you then, and present to him a religious offering."

Nandâ Balada (or Balaga or Baladhya) with joy came to the spot, above her hands (i.e. on her wrists) white chalcedony bracelets, her clothing of a gray color; the gray and the white together contrasted in the light, as the colors of the rounded river bubble; with simple heart and quickened step she came, and, bowing down at Bodhisattva's feet, she reverently offered him perfumed rice milk, begging him of his condescension to accept it. Bodhisattva taking it, partook of it at once, whilst she received, even then, the fruits of her religious act. Having eaten it, all his members refreshed, he became capable of receiving Bodhi; his body and limbs glistening with renewed strength, and his energies swelling higher still, as the hundred streams swell the sea, or the first quartered moon daily increases in brightness. The five Bhikshus having witnessed this, perturbed, were filled with suspicious reflection; they supposed that his religious zeal was flagging, and that he was leaving and looking for a better abode, as though he had obtained deliverance, the five elements entirely removed.

Bodhisattva wandered on alone, directing his course to that "fortunate" tree, beneath whose shade he might accomplish his search after complete enlightenment. Over the ground wide and level, producing soft and pliant grass, easily he advanced with lion step, pace by pace, whilst the earth shook withal; and as it shook, Kâla nâga aroused, was filled with joy, as his eyes were opened to the light. Forthwith he exclaimed: "When formerly I saw the Buddhas of old, there was the sign of an earthquake as now; the virtues of a Muni are so great in majesty, that the great earth cannot endure them; as step by step his foot treads upon the ground, so is there heard the sound of the rumbling earth-shaking; a brilliant light now illumes the world, as the shining of the rising sun; five hundred bluish-tinted birds I see, wheeling round to the right, flying through space; a gentle, soft, and cooling breeze blows around in an agreeable way; all these auspicious signs are the same as those of former Buddhas; wherefore I know that this Bodhisattva will certainly arrive at perfect wisdom. And now, behold! from yonder man, a grass cutter, he obtains some pure and pliant grass, which spreading out beneath the tree, with upright body, there he takes his seat; his feet placed under him, not carelessly arranged, moving to and fro, but like the firmly fixed and compact body of a Nâga; nor shall he rise again from off his seat till he has completed his undertaking." And so he (the Nâga) uttered these words by way of confirmation. The heavenly Nâgas, filled with joy, caused a cool refreshing breeze to rise; the trees and grass were yet unmoved by it, and all the beasts, quiet and silent, looked on in wonderment.

Mâra hearing these sounds in space, and seeing Bodhisattva still unmoved, filled with fear and banishing his high and supercilious thoughts, again took up his way to heaven above. Whilst all his host were scattered, o'erwhelmed with grief and disappointment, fallen from their high estate, bereft of their warrior pride, their warlike weapons and accoutrements thrown heedlessly and cast away 'mid woods and deserts. Like as when some cruel chieftain slain, the hateful band is all dispersed and scattered, so the host of Mara disconcerted, fled away. The mind of Bodhisattva now reposed peaceful and quiet. The morning sunbeams brighten with the dawn, the dust-like mist dispersing, disappears; the moon and stars pale their faint light, the barriers of the night are all removed, whilst from above a fall of heavenly flowers pay their sweet tribute to the Bodhisattva.

Bodhisattva having subdued Mâra, his firmly fixed mind at rest, thoroughly exhausting the first principle of truth, he entered into deep and subtle contemplation. Every kind of Sâmadhi in order passed before his eyes. During the first watch he entered on "right perception" and in recollection all former births passed before his eyes. Born in such a place, of such a name, and downwards to his present birth, so through hundreds, thousands, myriads, all his births and deaths he knew. Countless in number were they, of every kind and sort; then knowing, too, his family relationships, great pity rose within his heart.

Buddha in the Magadha country employing himself in converting all kinds of unbelievers, entirely changed them by the one and self-same law he preached, even as the sun drowns with its brightness all the stars. Then leaving the city of the five mountains with the company of his thousand disciples, and with a great multitude who went before and came after him, he advanced towards the Ni-kin mountain, near Kapilavastu; and there he conceived in himself a generous purpose to prepare an offering according to his religious doctrine to present to his father, the king. And now, in anticipation of his coming, the royal teacher and the chief minister had sent forth certain officers and their attendants to observe on the right hand and the left what was taking place; and they soon espied him (Buddha) as he advanced or halted on the way. Knowing that Buddha was now returning to his country they hastened back and quickly announced the tidings, "The prince who wandered forth afar to obtain enlightenment, having fulfilled his aim, is now coming back." The king hearing the news was greatly rejoiced, and forthwith went out with his gaudy equipage to meet his son; and the whole body of gentry belonging to the country, went forth with him in his company. Gradually advancing he beheld Buddha from afar, his marks of beauty sparkling with splendor twofold greater than of yore; placed in the middle of the great congregation he seemed to be even as Brahma râga. Descending from his chariot and advancing with dignity, the king was anxious lest there should be any religious difficulty in the way of instant recognition; and now beholding his beauty he inwardly rejoiced, but his mouth found no words to utter. He reflected, too, how that he was still dwelling among the unconverted throng, whilst his son had advanced and become a saint; and although he was his son, yet as he now occupied the position of a religious lord, he knew not by what name to address him. Furthermore he thought with himself how he had long ago desired earnestly this interview, which now had happened unawares. Meantime his son in silence took a seat, perfectly composed and with unchanged countenance. Thus for some time sitting opposite each other, with no expression of feeling the king reflected thus, "How desolate and sad does he now make my heart, as that of a man, who, fainting, longs for water, upon the road espies a fountain pure and cold; with haste he speeds towards it and longs to drink, when suddenly the spring dries up and disappears. Thus, now I see my son, his well-known features as of old; but how estranged his heart! and how his manner high and lifted up! There are no grateful outflowings of soul, his feelings seem unwilling to express themselves; cold and vacant there he sits; and like a thirsty man before a dried-up fountain so am I."

King Arthur was at Caerlleon upon Usk; and one day he sat in his chamber; and with him were Owain the son of Urien, and Kynon the son of Clydno, and Kai the son of Kyner; and Gwenhwyvar and her handmaidens at needlework by the window. And if it should be said that there was a porter at Arthur’s palace, there was none. Glewlwyd Gavaelvawr was there, acting as porter, to welcome guests and strangers, and to receive them with honour, and to inform them of the manners and customs of the Court; and to direct those who came to the Hall or to the presence-chamber, and those who came to take up their lodging.

In the centre of the chamber King Arthur sat upon a seat of green rushes, over which was spread a covering of flame-coloured satin, and a cushion of red satin was under his elbow.

Then Arthur spoke, “If I thought you would not disparage me,” said he, “I would sleep while I wait for my repast; and you can entertain one another with relating tales, and can obtain a flagon of mead and some meat from Kai.” And the King went to sleep. And Kynon the son of Clydno asked Kai for that which Arthur had promised them. “I, too, will have the good tale which he promised to me,” said Kai. “Nay,” answered Kynon, “fairer will it be for thee to fulfill Arthur’s behest, in the first place, and then we will tell thee the best tale that we know.” So Kai went to the kitchen and to the mead-cellar, and returned bearing a flagon of mead and a golden goblet, and a handful of skewers, upon which were broiled collops of meat. Then they ate the collops and began to drink the mead. “Now,” said Kai, “it is time for you to give me my story.” “Kynon,” said Owain, “do thou pay to Kai the tale that is his due.” “Truly,” said Kynon, “thou are older, and art a better teller of tales, and hast seen more marvellous things than I; do thou therefore pay Kai his tale.” “Begin thyself,” quoth Owain, “with the best that thou knowest.” “I will do so,” answered Kynon.

“I was the only son of my mother and father, and I was exceedingly aspiring, and my daring was very great. I thought there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me, and after I had achieved all the adventures that were in my own country, I equipped myself, and set forth to journey through deserts and distant regions. And at length it chanced that I came to the fairest valley in the world, wherein were trees of equal growth; and a river ran through the valley, and a path was by the side of the river. And I followed the path until mid-day, and continued my journey along the remainder of the valley until the evening; and at the extremity of a plain I came to a large and lustrous Castle, at the foot of which was a torrent. And I approached the Castle, and there I beheld two youths with yellow curling hair, each with a frontlet of gold upon his head, and clad in a garment of yellow satin, and they had gold clasps upon their insteps. In the hand of each of them was an ivory bow, strung with the sinews of the stag; and their arrows had shafts of the bone of the whale, and were winged with peacock’s feathers; the shafts also had golden heads. And they had daggers with blades of gold, and with hilts of the bone of the whale. And they were shooting their daggers.

“And a little way from them I saw a man in the prime of life, with his beard newly shorn, clad in a robe and a mantle of yellow satin; and round the top of his mantle was a band of gold lace. On his feet were shoes of variegated leather, fastened by two bosses of gold. When I saw him, I went towards him and saluted him, and such was his courtesy that he no sooner received my greeting than he returned it. And he went with me towards the Castle. Now there were no dwellers in the Castle except those who were in one hall. And there I saw four-and-twenty damsels, embroidering satin at a window. And this I tell thee, Kai, that the least fair of them was fairer than the fairest maid thou hast ever beheld in the Island of Britain, and the least lovely of them was more lovely than Gwenhwyvar, the wife of Arthur, when she has appeared loveliest at the Offering, on the day of the Nativity, or at the feast of Easter. They rose up at my coming, and six of them took my horse, and divested me of my armour; and six others took my arms, and washed them in a vessel until they were perfectly bright. And the third six spread cloths upon the tables and prepared meat. And the fourth six took off my soiled garments, and placed others upon me; namely, an under-vest and a doublet of fine linen, and a robe, and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin with a broad gold band upon the mantle. And they placed cushions both beneath and around me, with coverings of red linen; and I sat down.

Now the six maidens who had taken my horse, unharnessed him, as well as if they had been the best squires in the Island of Britain. Then, behold, they brought bowls of silver wherein was water to wash, and towels of linen, some green and some white; and I washed. And in a little while the man sat down to the table. And I sat next to him, and below me sat all the maidens, except those who waited on us. And the table was of silver, and the cloths upon the table were of linen; and no vessel was served upon the table that was not either of gold or of silver, or of buffalo-horn. And our meat was brought to us. And verily, Kai, I saw there every sort of meat and every sort of liquor that I have ever seen elsewhere; but the meat and the liquor were better served there than I have ever seen them in any other place.

“Until the repast was half over, neither the man nor any one of the damsels spoke a single word to me; but when the man perceived that it would be more agreeable to me to converse than to eat any more, he began to inquire of me who I was. I said I was glad to find that there was some one who would discourse with me, and that it was not considered so great a crime at that Court for people to hold converse together. ‘Chieftain,’ said the man, ‘we would have talked to thee sooner, but we feared to disturb thee during thy repast; now, however, we will discourse.’ Then I told the man who I was, and what was the cause of my journey; and said that I was seeking whether any one was superior to me, or whether I could gain the mastery over all. The man looked upon me, and he smiled and said, ‘If I did not fear to distress thee too much, I would show thee that which thou seekest.’ Upon this I became anxious and sorrowful, and when the man perceived it, he said, ‘If thou wouldest rather that I should show thee thy disadvantage than thine advantage, I will do so. Sleep here to-night, and in the morning arise early, and take the road upwards through the valley until thou reachest the wood through which thou camest hither. A little way within the wood thou wilt meet with a road branching off to the right, by which thou must proceed, until thou comest to a large sheltered glade with a mound in the centre. And thou wilt see a black man of great stature on the top of the mound. He is not smaller in size than two of the men of this world. He has but one foot;

and one eye in the middle of his forehead. And he has a club of iron, and it is certain that there are no two men in the world who would not find their burden in that club. And he is not a comely man, but on the contrary he is exceedingly ill-favoured; and he is the woodward of that wood. And thou wilt see a thousand wild animals grazing around him. Inquire of him the way out of the glade, and he will reply to thee briefly, and will point out the road by which thou shalt find that which thou art in quest of.’

“And long seemed that night to me. And the next morning I arose and equipped myself, and mounted my horse, and proceeded straight through the valley to the wood; and I followed the cross-road which the man had pointed out to me, till at length I arrived at the glade. And there was I three times more astonished at the number of wild animals that I beheld, than the man had said I should be. And the black man was there, sitting upon the top of the mound. Huge of stature as the man had told me that he was, I found him to exceed by far the description he had given me of him. As for the iron club which the man had told me was a burden for two men, I am certain, Kai, that it would be a heavy weight for four warriors to lift; and this was in the black man’s hand. And he only spoke to me in answer to my questions. Then I asked him what power he held over those animals. ‘I will show thee, little man,’ said he. And he took his club in his hand, and with it he struck a stag a great blow so that he brayed vehemently, and at his braying the animals came together, as numerous as the stars in the sky, so that it was difficult for me to find room in the glade to stand among them. There were serpents, and dragons, and divers sorts of animals. And he looked at them, and bade them go and feed; and they bowed their heads, and did him homage as vassals to their lord.

“Then the black man said to me, ‘Seest thou now, little man, what power I hold over these animals?’ Then I inquired of him the way, and he became very rough in his manner to me; however, he asked me whither I would go? And when I told him who I was and what I sought, he directed me. ‘Take,’ said he, ‘that path that leads towards the head of the glade, and ascend the wooded steep until thou comest to its summit; and there thou wilt find an open space like to a large valley, and in the midst of it a tall tree, whose branches are greener than the greenest pine-trees. Under this tree is a fountain, and by the side of the fountain a marble slab, and on the marble slab a silver bowl, attached by a chain of silver, so that it may not be carried away. Take the bowl and throw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and thou wilt hear a mighty peal of thunder, so that thou wilt think that heaven and earth are trembling with its fury. With the thunder there will come a shower so severe that it will be scarce possible for thee to endure it and live. And the shower will be of hailstones; and after the shower, the weather will become fair, but every leaf that was upon the tree will have been carried away by the shower. Then a flight of birds will come and alight upon the tree; and in thine own country thou didst never hear a strain so sweet as that which they will sing. And at the moment thou art most delighted with the song of the birds, thou wilt hear a murmuring and complaining coming towards thee along the valley.

And thou wilt see a knight upon a coal-black horse, clothed in black velvet, and with a pennon of black linen upon his lance; and he will ride unto thee to encounter thee with the utmost speed. If thou fleest from him he will overtake thee, and if thou abidest there, as sure as thou art a mounted knight, he will leave thee on foot. And if thou dost not find trouble in that adventure, thou needest not seek it during the rest of thy life.’

“So I journeyed on, until I reached the summit of the steep, and there I found everything as the black man had described it to me. And I went up to the tree, and beneath it I saw the fountain, and by its side the marble slab, and the silver bowl fastened by the chain. Then I took the bowl, and cast a bowlful of water upon the slab; and thereupon, behold, the thunder came, much more violent than the black man had led me to expect; and after the thunder came the shower; and of a truth I tell thee, Kai, that there is neither man nor beast that can endure that shower and live. For not one of those hailstones would be stopped, either by the flesh or by the skin, until it had reached the bone. I turned my horse’s flank towards the shower, and placed the beak of my shield over his head and neck, while I held the upper part of it over my own head. And thus I withstood the shower. When I looked on the tree there was not a single leaf upon it, and then the sky became clear, and with that, behold the birds lighted upon the tree, and sang. And truly, Kai, I never heard any melody equal to that, either before or since. And when I was most charmed with listening to the birds, lo, a murmuring voice was heard through the valley, approaching me and saying, ‘Oh, Knight, what has brought thee hither? What evil have I done to thee, that thou shouldst act towards me and my possessions as thou hast this day?

Dost thou not know that the shower to-day has left in my dominions neither man nor beast alive that was exposed to it?’ And thereupon, behold, a Knight on a black horse appeared, clothed in jet-black velvet, and with a tabard of black linen about him. And we charged each other, and, as the onset was furious, it was not long before I was overthrown. Then the Knight passed the shaft of his lance through the bridle rein of my horse, and rode off with the two horses, leaving me where I was. And he did not even bestow so much notice upon me as to imprison me, nor did he despoil me of my arms. So I returned along the road by which I had come. And when I reached the glade where the black man was, I confess to thee, Kai, it is a marvel that I did not melt down into a liquid pool, through the shame that I felt at the black man’s derision. And that night I came to the same castle where I had spent the night preceding. And I was more agreeably entertained that night than I had been the night before; and I was better feasted, and I conversed freely with the inmates of the castle, and none of them alluded to my expedition to the fountain, neither did I mention it to any; and I remained there that night. When I arose on the morrow, I found, ready saddled, a dark bay palfrey, with nostrils as red as scarlet; and after putting on my armour, and leaving there my blessing, I returned to my own Court. And that horse I still possess, and he is in the stable yonder. And I declare that I would not part with him for the best palfrey in the Island of Britain.

“Now of a truth, Kai, no man ever before confessed to an adventure so much to his own discredit, and verily it seems strange to me, that neither before nor since have I heard of any person besides myself who knew of this adventure, and that the subject of it should exist within King Arthur’s dominions, without any other person lighting upon it.”

“Now,” quoth Owain, “would it not be well to go and endeavour to discover that place?”

“By the hand of my friend,” said Kai, “often dost thou utter that with thy tongue which thou wouldst not make good with thy deeds.”

“In very truth,” said Gwenhwyvar, “it were better thou wert hanged, Kai, than to use such uncourteous speech towards a man like Owain.”

“By the hand of my friend, good Lady,” said Kai, “thy praise of Owain is not greater than mine.”

With that Arthur awoke, and asked if he had not been sleeping a little.

“Yes, Lord,” answered Owain, “thou hast slept awhile.”

Then the horn for washing was sounded, and the King and all his household sat down to eat. And when the meal was ended, Owain withdrew to his lodging, and made ready his horse and his arms.

On the morrow, with the dawn of day, he put on his armour, and mounted his charger, and travelled through distant lands and over desert mountains. And at length he arrived at the valley which Kynon had described to him; and he was certain that it was the same that he sought. And journeying along the valley by the side of the river, he followed its course till he came to the plain and within sight of the Castle. When he approached the Castle, he saw the youths shooting their daggers in the place where Kynon had seen them, and the yellow man, to whom the Castle belonged, standing hard by. And no sooner had Owain saluted the yellow man than he was saluted by him in return.

And he went forward towards the Castle, and there he saw the chamber, and when he had entered the chamber he beheld the maidens working at satin embroidery, in chairs of gold. And their beauty and their comeliness seemed to Owain far greater than Kynon had represented to him. And they rose to wait upon Owain, as they had done to Kynon, and the meal which they set before him gave more satisfaction to Owain than it had done to Kynon.

About the middle of the repast, the yellow man asked Owain the object of his journey. And Owain made it known to him, and said, “I am in quest of the Knight who guards the fountain.” Upon this the yellow man smiled, and said that he was as loth to point out that adventure to Owain as he had been to Kynon. However, he described the whole to Owain, and they retired to rest.

The next morning Owain found his horse made ready for him by the damsels, and he set forward and came to the glade where the black man was. And the stature of the black man seemed more wonderful to Owain than it had done to Kynon, and Owain asked of him his road, and he showed it to him. And Owain followed the road, as Kynon had done, till he came to the green tree; and he beheld the fountain, and the slab beside the fountain, with the bowl upon it. And Owain took the bowl, and threw a bowlful of water upon the slab. And, lo, the thunder was heard, and after the thunder came the shower, much more violent than Kynon had described, and after the shower the sky became bright. And when Owain looked at the tree, there was not one leaf upon it. And immediately the birds came, and settled upon the tree, and sang. And when their song was most pleasing to Owain, he beheld a Knight coming towards him through the valley, and he prepared to receive him; and encountered him violently. Having broken both their lances, they drew their swords, and fought blade to blade. Then Owain struck the Knight a blow through his helmet, head-piece and visor, and through the skin, and the flesh, and the bone, until it wounded the very brain. Then the black Knight felt that he had received a mortal wound, upon which he turned his horse’s head, and fled. And Owain pursued him, and followed close upon him, although he was not near enough to strike him with his sword. Thereupon Owain descried a vast and resplendent Castle. And they came to the Castle gate.

And the black Knight was allowed to enter, and the portcullis was let fall upon Owain; and it struck his horse behind the saddle, and cut him in two, and carried away the rowels of the spurs that were upon Owain’s heels. And the portcullis descended to the floor. And the rowels of the spurs and part of the horse were without, and Owain with the other part of the horse remained between the two gates, and the inner gate was closed, so that Owain could not go thence; and Owain was in a perplexing situation. And while he was in this state, he could see through an aperture in the gate, a street facing him, with a row of houses on each side. And he beheld a maiden, with yellow curling hair, and a frontlet of gold upon her head; and she was clad in a dress of yellow satin, and on her feet were shoes of variegated leather. And she approached the gate, and desired that it should be opened. “Heaven knows, Lady,” said Owain, “it is no more possible for me to open to thee from hence, than it is for thee to set me free.” “Truly,” said the damsel, “it is very sad that thou canst not be released, and every woman ought to succour thee, for I never saw one more faithful in the service of ladies than thou. As a friend thou art the most sincere, and as a lover the most devoted. Therefore,” quoth she, “whatever is in my power to do for thy release, I will do it. Take this ring and put it on thy finger, with the stone inside thy hand; and close thy hand upon the stone. And as long as thou concealest it, it will conceal thee.

When they have consulted together, they will come forth to fetch thee, in order to put thee to death; and they will be much grieved that they cannot find thee. And I will await thee on the horseblock yonder; and thou wilt be able to see me, though I cannot see thee; therefore come and place thy hand upon my shoulder, that I may know that thou art near me. And by the way that I go hence, do thou accompany me.”

Then she went away from Owain, and he did all that the maiden had told him. And the people of the Castle came to seek Owain, to put him to death, and when they found nothing but the half of his horse, they were sorely grieved.

And Owain vanished from among them, and went to the maiden, and placed his hand upon her shoulder; whereupon she set off, and Owain followed her, until they came to the door of a large and beautiful chamber, and the maiden opened it, and they went in, and closed the door. And Owain looked around the chamber, and behold there was not even a single nail in it that was not painted with gorgeous colours; and there was not a single panel that had not sundry images in gold portrayed upon it.

The maiden kindled a fire, and took water in a silver bowl, and put a towel of white linen on her shoulder, and gave Owain water to wash. Then she placed before him a silver table, inlaid with gold; upon which was a cloth of yellow linen; and she brought him food. And of a truth, Owain had never seen any kind of meat that was not there in abundance, but it was better cooked there than he had ever found it in any other place. Nor did he ever see so excellent a display of meat and drink, as there. And there was not one vessel from which he was served, that was not of gold or of silver. And Owain ate and drank, until late in the afternoon, when lo, they heard a mighty clamour in the Castle; and Owain asked the maiden what that outcry was. “They are administering extreme unction,” said she, “to the Nobleman who owns the Castle.” And Owain went to sleep.

The couch which the maiden had prepared for him was meet for Arthur himself; it was of scarlet, and fur, and satin, and sendal, and fine linen. In the middle of the night they heard a woful outcry. “What outcry again is this?” said Owain. “The Nobleman who owned the Castle is now dead,” said the maiden. And a little after daybreak, they heard an exceeding loud clamour and wailing. And Owain asked the maiden what was the cause of it. “They are bearing to the church the body of the Nobleman who owned the Castle.”

And Owain rose up, and clothed himself, and opened a window of the chamber, and looked towards the Castle; and he could see neither the bounds, nor the extent of the hosts that filled the streets. And they were fully armed; and a vast number of women were with them, both on horseback and on foot; and all the ecclesiastics in the city, singing. And it seemed to Owain that the sky resounded with the vehemence of their cries, and with the noise of the trumpets, and with the singing of the ecclesiastics. In the midst of the throng, he beheld the bier, over which was a veil of white linen; and wax tapers were burning beside and around it, and none that supported the bier was lower in rank than a powerful Baron.

Never did Owain see an assemblage so gorgeous with satin, and silk, and sendal. And following the train, he beheld a lady with yellow hair falling over her shoulders, and stained with blood; and about her a dress of yellow satin, which was torn. Upon her feet were shoes of variegated leather. And it was a marvel that the ends of her fingers were not bruised, from the violence with which she smote her hands together. Truly she would have been the fairest lady Owain ever saw, had she been in her usual guise. And her cry was louder than the shout of the men, or the clamour of the trumpets. No sooner had he beheld the lady, than he became inflamed with her love, so that it took entire possession of him.

Then he inquired of the maiden who the lady was. “Heaven knows,” replied the maiden, “she may be said to be the fairest, and the most chaste, and the most liberal, and the wisest, and the most noble of women. And she is my mistress; and she is called the Countess of the Fountain, the wife of him whom thou didst slay yesterday.” “Verily,” said Owain, “she is the woman that I love best.” “Verily,” said the maiden, “she shall also love thee not a little.”

And with that the maid arose, and kindled a fire, and filled a pot with water, and placed it to warm; and she brought a towel of white linen, and placed it around Owain’s neck; and she took a goblet of ivory, and a silver basin, and filled them with warm water, wherewith she washed Owain’s head. Then she opened a wooden casket, and drew forth a razor, whose haft was of ivory, and upon which were two rivets of gold. And she shaved his beard, and she dried his head, and his throat, with the towel. Then she rose up from before Owain, and brought him to eat. And truly Owain had never so good a meal, nor was he ever so well served.

When he had finished his repast, the maiden arranged his couch. “Come here,” said she, “and sleep, and I will go and woo for thee.” And Owain went to sleep, and the maiden shut the door of the chamber after her, and went towards the Castle. When she came there, she found nothing but mourning, and sorrow; and the Countess in her chamber could not bear the sight of any one through grief. Luned came and saluted her, but the Countess answered her not. And the maiden bent down towards her, and said, “What aileth thee, that thou answerest no one to-day?” “Luned,” said the Countess, “what change hath befallen thee, that thou hast not come to visit me in my grief? It was wrong in thee, and I having made thee rich; it was wrong in thee that thou didst not come to see me in my distress. That was wrong in thee.” “Truly,” said Luned, “I thought thy good sense was greater than I find it to be. Is it well for thee to mourn after that good man, or for anything else, that thou canst not have?” “I declare to heaven,” said the Countess, “that in the whole world there is not a man equal to him.” “Not so,” said Luned, “for an ugly man would be as good as, or better than he.” “I declare to heaven,” said the Countess, “that were it not repugnant to me to cause to be put to death one whom I have brought up, I would have thee executed, for making such a comparison to me. As it is, I will banish thee.” “I am glad,” said Luned, “that thou hast no other cause to do so, than that I would have been of service to thee where thou didst not know what was to thine advantage.

And henceforth evil betide whichever of us shall make the first advance towards reconciliation to the other; whether I should seek an invitation from thee, or thou of thine own accord shouldst send to invite me.”

With that Luned went forth: and the Countess arose and followed her to the door of the chamber, and began coughing loudly. And when Luned looked back, the Countess beckoned to her; and she returned to the Countess. “In truth,” said the Countess, “evil is thy disposition; but if thou knowest what is to my advantage, declare it to me.” “I will do so,” quoth she.

“Thou knowest that except by warfare and arms it is impossible for thee to preserve thy possessions; delay not, therefore, to seek some one who can defend them.” “And how can I do that?” said the Countess. “I will tell thee,” said Luned. “Unless thou canst defend the fountain, thou canst not maintain thy dominions; and no one can defend the fountain, except it be a knight of Arthur’s household; and I will go to Arthur’s Court, and ill betide me, if I return thence without a warrior who can guard the fountain as well as, or even better than, he who defended it formerly.” “That will be hard to perform,” said the Countess. “Go, however, and make proof of that which thou hast promised.”

Luned set out, under the pretence of going to Arthur’s Court; but she went back to the chamber where she had left Owain; and she tarried there with him as long as it might have taken her to have travelled to the Court of King Arthur. And at the end of that time, she apparelled herself and went to visit the Countess. And the Countess was much rejoiced when she saw her, and inquired what news she brought from the Court. “I bring thee the best of news,” said Luned, “for I have compassed the object of my mission. When wilt thou, that I should present to thee the chieftain who has come with me hither?” “Bring him here to visit me to-morrow, at mid-day,” said the Countess, “and I will cause the town to be assembled by that time.”

And Luned returned home. And the next day, at noon, Owain arrayed himself in a coat, and a surcoat, and a mantle of yellow satin, upon which was a broad band of gold lace; and on his feet were high shoes of variegated leather, which were fastened by golden clasps, in the form of lions. And they proceeded to the chamber of the Countess.

Right glad was the Countess of their coming, and she gazed steadfastly upon Owain, and said, “Luned, this knight has not the look of a traveller.” “What harm is there in that, lady?” said Luned. “I am certain,” said the Countess, “that no other man than this chased the soul from the body of my lord.” “So much the better for thee, lady,” said Luned, “for had he not been stronger than thy lord he could not have deprived him of life. There is no remedy for that which is past, be it as it may.” “Go back to thine abode,” said the Countess, “and I will take counsel.”

The next day the Countess caused all her subjects to assemble, and showed them that her earldom was left defenceless, and that it could not be protected but with horse and arms, and military skill. “Therefore,” said she, “this is what I offer for your choice: either let one of you take me, or give your consent for me to take a husband from elsewhere to defend my dominions.”

So they came to the determination that it was better that she should have permission to marry some one from elsewhere; and, thereupon, she sent for the bishops and archbishops to celebrate her nuptials with Owain. And the men of the earldom did Owain homage.

And Owain defended the Fountain with lance and sword. And this is the manner in which he defended it: Whensoever a knight came there he overthrew him, and sold him for his full worth, and what he thus gained he divided among his barons and his knights; and no man in the whole world could be more beloved than he was by his subjects. And it was thus for the space of three years.

It befell that as Gwalchmai went forth one day with King Arthur, he perceived him to be very sad and sorrowful. And Gwalchmai was much grieved to see Arthur in this state; and he questioned him, saying, “Oh, my lord! what has befallen thee?” “In sooth, Gwalchmai,” said Arthur, “I am grieved concerning Owain, whom I have lost these three years, and I shall certainly die if the fourth year passes without my seeing him. Now I am sure, that it is through the tale which Kynon the son of Clydno related, that I have lost Owain.” “There is no need for thee,” said Gwalchmai, “to summon to arms thy whole dominions on this account, for thou thyself and the men of thy household will be able to avenge Owain, if he be slain; or to set him free, if he be in prison; and, if alive, to bring him back with thee.” And it was settled according to what Gwalchmai had said.

Then Arthur and the men of his household prepared to go and seek Owain, and their number was three thousand, besides their attendants. And Kynon the son of Clydno acted as their guide. And Arthur came to the Castle where Kynon had been before, and when he came there the youths were shooting in the same place, and the yellow man was standing hard by. When the yellow man saw Arthur he greeted him, and invited him to the Castle; and Arthur accepted his invitation, and they entered the Castle together. And great as was the number of his retinue, their presence was scarcely observed in the Castle, so vast was its extent. And the maidens rose up to wait on them, and the service of the maidens appeared to them all to excel any attendance they had ever met with; and even the pages who had charge of the horses were no worse served, that night, than Arthur himself would have been in his own palace.

The next morning Arthur set out thence, with Kynon for his guide, and came to the place where the black man was. And the stature of the black man was more surprising to Arthur than it had been represented to him. And they came to the top of the wooded steep, and traversed the valley till they reached the green tree, where they saw the fountain, and the bowl, and the slab. And upon that, Kai came to Arthur and spoke to him. “My lord,” said he, “I know the meaning of all this, and my request is, that thou wilt permit me to throw the water on the slab, and to receive the first adventure that may befall.” And Arthur gave him leave.

Then Kai threw a bowlful of water upon the slab, and immediately there came the thunder, and after the thunder the shower. And such a thunderstorm they had never known before, and many of the attendants who were in Arthur’s train were killed by the shower. After the shower had ceased the sky became clear; and on looking at the tree they beheld it completely leafless. Then the birds descended upon the tree, and the song of the birds was far sweeter than any strain they had ever heard before. Then they beheld a knight on a coal-black horse, clothed in black satin, coming rapidly towards them. And Kai met him and encountered him, and it was not long before Kai was overthrown. And the knight withdrew, and Arthur and his host encamped for the night.

And when they arose in the morning, they perceived the signal of combat upon the lance of the Knight. And Kai came to Arthur, and spoke to him: “My lord,” said he, “though I was overthrown yesterday, if it seem good to thee, I would gladly meet the Knight again to-day.” “Thou mayst do so,” said Arthur. And Kai went towards the Knight. And on the spot he overthrew Kai, and struck him with the head of his lance in the forehead, so that it broke his helmet and the head-piece, and pierced the skin and the flesh, the breadth of the spear-head, even to the bone. And Kai returned to his companions.

After this, all the household of Arthur went forth, one after the other, to combat the Knight, until there was not one that was not overthrown by him, except Arthur and Gwalchmai. And Arthur armed himself to encounter the Knight. “Oh, my lord,” said Gwalchmai, “permit me to fight with him first.” And Arthur permitted him. And he went forth to meet the Knight, having over himself and his horse a satin robe of honour which had been sent him by the daughter of the Earl of Rhangyw, and in this dress he was not known by any of the host. And they charged each other, and fought all that day until the evening, and neither of them was able to unhorse the other.

The next day they fought with strong lances, and neither of them could obtain the mastery.

And the third day they fought with exceeding strong lances. And they were incensed with rage, and fought furiously, even until noon. And they gave each other such a shock that the girths of their horses were broken, so that they fell over their horses’ cruppers to the ground. And they rose up speedily, and drew their swords, and resumed the combat; and the multitude that witnessed their encounter felt assured that they had never before seen two men so valiant or so powerful. And had it been midnight, it would have been light from the fire that flashed from their weapons. And the Knight gave Gwalchmai a blow that turned his helmet from off his face, so that the Knight knew that it was Gwalchmai. Then Owain said, “My lord Gwalchmai, I did not know thee for my cousin, owing to the robe of honour that enveloped thee; take my sword and my arms.” Said Gwalchmai, “Thou, Owain, art the victor; take thou my sword.” And with that Arthur saw that they were conversing, and advanced towards them. “My lord Arthur,” said Gwalchmai, “here is Owain, who has vanquished me, and will not take my arms.” “My lord,” said Owain, “it is he that has vanquished me, and he will not take my sword.” “Give me your swords,” said Arthur, “and then neither of you has vanquished the other.” Then Owain put his arms around Arthur’s neck, and they embraced. And all the host hurried forward to see Owain, and to embrace him; and there was nigh being a loss of life, so great was the press.