The Sanskrit Epics, page 926
56. ‘What is it that these women lack that they perceive not that youth is fickle? for this old age will destroy whatever has beauty.
57. ‘Verily they do not see any one’s plunge into disease, and so dismissing fear, they are joyous in a world which is all pain.
58. ‘Evidently they know nothing of death which carries all away; and so at ease and without distress they can sport and laugh.
59. ‘What rational being, who knows of old age, death and sickness, could stand or sit down at his ease or sleep, far less laugh?
60. ‘But he verily is like one bereft of sense, who, beholding another aged or sick or dead, remains self-possessed and not afflicted.
61. ‘(So) even when a tree is deprived of its flowers and fruits, or if it is cut down and falls, no other tree sorrows.’
62. Seeing him thus absorbed in contemplation, with his desires estranged from all worldly objects, Udâyin, well skilled in the rules of policy, with kindly feelings addressed him:
63. ‘Since I was appointed by the king as a fitting friend for thee, therefore I have a wish to speak to thee in this friendliness of my heart.
64. ‘To hinder from what is disadvantageous, — to urge to what is advantageous, — and not to forsake in misfortune, — these are the three marks of a friend.
65. ‘If I, after having promised my friendship, were not to heed when thou turnest away from the great end of man, there would be no friendship in me.
66. ‘Therefore I speak as thy friend, — such rudeness as this to women is not befitting for one young in years and graceful in person.
67. ‘It is right to woo a woman even by guile, — this is useful both for getting rid of shame and for one’s own enjoyment.
68. ‘Reverential behaviour and compliance with her wishes are what binds a woman’s heart; good qualities truly are a cause of love, and women love respect.
69. ‘Wilt thou not then, O large-eyed prince, even if thy heart is unwilling, seek to please them with a courtesy worthy of this beauty of thine?
70. ‘Courtesy is the balm of women, courtesy is the best ornament; beauty without courtesy is like a grove without flowers.
71. ‘But of what use is courtesy by itself? let it be assisted by the heart’s feelings; surely, when worldly objects so hard to attain are in thy grasp, thou wilt not despise them.
72. ‘Knowing that pleasure was the best of objects, even the god Puramdara (Indra) wooed in olden time Ahalyâ the wife of the saint Gautama.
73. ‘So too Agastya wooed Rohinî, the wife of Soma; and therefore, as Sruti saith, a like thing befell Lopâmudrâ.
74. ‘The great ascetic Vrihaspati begot Bharadvâga on Mamatâ the daughter of the Maruts, the wife of Autathya.
75. ‘The Moon, the best of offerers, begat Budha of divine nature on the spouse of Vrihaspati as she was offering a libation.
76. ‘So too in old time Parâsara, overpowered by passion on the bank of the Yamunâ, lay with the maiden Kâlî who was the daughter of the son of the Water (Agni).
77. ‘The sage Vasishtha through lust begot a son Kapiñgalâda on Akshamâlâ a despised low-caste woman.
78. ‘And the seer-king Yayâti, even when the vigour of his prime was gone, sported in the Kaitraratha forest with the Apsaras Visvâkî.
79. ‘And the Kaurava king Pându, though he knew that intercourse with his wife would end in death, yet overcome by the beauty and good qualities of Mâdrî yielded to the pleasures of love.
80. ‘And so Karâlaganaka, when he carried off the Brâhman’s daughter, incurred loss of caste thereby, but he would not give up his love.
81. ‘Great heroes such as these pursued even contemptible desires for the sake of pleasure, how much more so when they are praiseworthy of their kind?
82. ‘And yet thou, a young man, possessed of strength and beauty, despisest enjoyments which rightly belong to thee, and to which the whole world is devoted.’
83. Having heard these specious words of his, well-supported by sacred tradition, the prince made reply, in a voice like the thundering of a cloud:
84. ‘This speech manifesting affection is well-befitting in thee; but I will convince thee as to where thou wrongly judgest me.
85. ‘I do not despise worldly objects, I know that all mankind are bound up therein; but remembering that the world is transitory, my mind cannot find pleasure in them.
86. ‘Old age, disease, and death — if these three things did not exist, I too should find my enjoyment in the objects that please the mind.
87. ‘Yet even though this beauty of women were to remain perpetual, still delight in the pleasures of desire would not be worthy of the wise man.
88. ‘But since their beauty will be drunk up by old age, to delight therein through infatuation cannot be a thing approved even by thyself.
89. ‘He who himself subject to death, disease, and old age, can sport undisturbed with those whose very nature implies death, disease, and old age, such a man is on a level with birds and beasts.
90. ‘And as for what thou sayest as to even those great men having become victims to desire, do not be bewildered by them, for destruction was also their lot.
91. ‘Real greatness is not to be found there, where there is universally destruction, or where there is attachment to earthly objects, or a want of self-control.
92. ‘And when thou sayest, “Let one deal with women even by guile,” I know nought about guile, even if it be accompanied with courtesy.
93. ‘That compliance too with a woman’s wishes pleases me not, if truthfulness be not there; if there be not a union with one’s whole soul and nature, then “out upon it” say I.
94. ‘A soul overpowered by passion, believing in falsehood, carried away by attachment and blind to the faults of its objects, — what is there in it worth being deceived?
95. ‘And if the victims of passion do deceive one another, — are not men unfit for women to look at and women for men?
96. Since then these things are so, thou surely wouldest not lead me astray into ignoble pleasures, — me afflicted by sorrow, and subject to old age and death?
97. ‘Ah! thy mind must be very firm and strong, if thou canst find substance in the transitory pleasures of sense; even in the midst of violent alarm thou canst cling to worldly objects, when thou seest all created beings in the road of death.
98. ‘But I am fearful and exceedingly bewildered, as I ponder the terrors of old age, death, and disease; I can find no peace, no self-command, much less can I find pleasure, while I see the world as it were ablaze with fire.
99. ‘If desire arises in the heart of the man, who knows that death is certain, — I think that his soul must be made of iron, who restrains it in this great terror and does not weep.’
100. Then the prince uttered a discourse full of resolve and abolishing the objects of desire; and the lord of day, whose orb is the worthy centre of human eyes, departed to the Western Mountain.
101. And the women, having worn their garlands and ornaments in vain, with their graceful arts and endearments all fruitless, concealing their love deep in their hearts, returned to the city with broken hopes.
102. Having thus seen the beauty of the troop of women who had gone out to the city-garden, now withdrawn in the evening, — the prince, pondering the transitoriness which envelopes all things, entered his dwelling.
103. Then the king, when he heard how his mind turned away from all objects of sense, could not lie down all that night, like an elephant with an arrow in its heart; but wearied in all sorts of consultation, he and his ministers could find no other means beside these (despised) pleasures to restrain his son’s purpose.
BOOK V.
1. HE, THE son of the Sâkya king, even though thus tempted by the objects of sense which infatuate others, yielded not to pleasure and felt not delight, like a lion deeply pierced in his heart by a poisoned arrow.
2. Then one day accompanied by some worthy sons of his father’s ministers, friends full of varied converse, — with a desire to see the glades of the forest and longing for peace, he went out with the king’s permission.
3. Having mounted his good horse Kamthaka, decked with bells and bridle-bit of new gold, with beautiful golden harness and the chowrie waving, he went forth like the moon mounted on a comet.
4. Lured by love of the wood and longing for the beauties of the ground, he went to a spot near at hand on the forest-outskirts; and there he saw a piece of land being ploughed, with the path of the plough broken like waves on the water.
5. Having beheld the ground in this condition, with its young grass scattered and torn by the plough, and covered with the eggs and young of little insects which were killed, he was filled with deep sorrow as for the slaughter of his own kindred.
6. And beholding the men as they were ploughing, their complexions spoiled by the dust, the sun’s rays, and the wind, and their cattle bewildered with the burden of drawing, the most noble one felt extreme compassion.
7. Having alighted from the back of his horse, he went over the ground slowly, overcome with sorrow, — pondering the birth and destruction of the world, he, grieved, exclaimed, ‘this is indeed pitiable.’
8. Then desiring to become perfectly lonely in his thoughts, having stopped those friends who were following him, he went to the root of a rose-apple in a solitary spot, which had its beautiful leaves all tremulous (in the wind).
9. There he sat down on the ground covered with leaves, and with its young grass bright like lapis lazuli; and, meditating on the origin and destruction of the world, he laid hold of the path that leads to firmness of mind.
10. Having attained to firmness of mind, and being forthwith set free from all sorrows such as the desire of worldly objects and the rest, he attained
2. Query, samavâptamanahsthitih for -manâhsthiteh.] the first stage of contemplation, unaffected by sin, calm, and ‘argumentative.’
11. Having then obtained the highest happiness sprung from deliberation, he next pondered this meditation, — having thoroughly understood in his mind the course of the world:
12. ‘It is a miserable thing that mankind, though themselves powerless and subject to sickness, old age, and death, yet, blinded by passion and ignorant, look with disgust on another who is afflicted by old age or diseased or dead.
13. ‘If I here, being such myself, should feel disgust for another who has such a nature, it would not be worthy or right in me who know this highest duty.’
14. As he thus considered thoroughly these faults of sickness, old age, and death which belong to all living beings, all the joy which he had felt in the activity of his vigour, his youth, and his life, vanished in a moment.
15. He did not rejoice, he did not feel remorse; he suffered no hesitation, indolence, nor sleep; he felt no drawing towards the qualities of desire; he hated not nor scorned another.
16. Thus did this pure passionless meditation grow within the great-souled one; and unobserved by the other men, there crept up a man in a beggar’s dress.
17. The king’s son asked him a question, — he said to him, ‘Tell me, who art thou?’ and the other replied, ‘Oh bull of men, I, being terrified at birth and death, have become an ascetic for the sake of liberation.
18. ‘Desiring liberation in a world subject to destruction, I seek that happy indestructible abode, isolated from mankind, with my thoughts unlike those of others, and with my sinful passions turned away from all objects of sense
19. ‘Dwelling anywhere, at the root of a tree, or in an uninhabited house, a mountain or a forest, — I wander without a family and without hope, a beggar ready for any fare, seeking only the highest good.’
20. When he had thus spoken, while the prince was looking on, he suddenly flew up to the sky; it was a heavenly inhabitant who, knowing that the prince’s thoughts were other than what his outward form promised, had come to him for the sake of rousing his recollection.
21. When the other was gone like a bird to heaven, the foremost of men was rejoiced and astonished; and having comprehended the meaning of the term dharma, he set his mind on the manner of the accomplishment of deliverance.
22. Then like Indra himself, and having tamed his senses, — desiring to return home he mounted his roble steed; and having made him turn back as he looked for his friends, from that moment he sought no more the desired forest.
23. Ever seeking to make an end of old age and death, fixing his thoughts in memory on dwelling in the woods, he entered the city again but with no feelings of longing, like an elephant entering an exercise-ground after roaming in a forest-land.
24. ‘Happy truly and blessed is that woman whose husband is such as thou, O long-eyed prince!’ So, on seeing him, the princess exclaimed, folding her hands to welcome him, as he entered the road.
25. He whose voice was deep-sounding like a cloud heard this address and was filled with profound calm; and as he heard the word ‘blessed’ he fixed his mind on the attainment of Nirvâna.
26. Then the prince whose form was like the peak of a golden mountain, — whose eye, voice, and arm resembled a bull, a cloud, and an elephant, — whose countenance and prowess were like the moon and a lion, — having a longing aroused for something imperishable, — went into his palace.
27. Then stepping like a lion he went towards the king who was attended by his numerous counsellors, like Sanatkumâra in heaven waiting on Indra resplendent in the assembly of the Maruts.
28. Prostrating himself, with folded hands, he addressed him, ‘Grant me graciously thy permission, O lord of men, — I wish to become a wandering mendicant for the sake of liberation, since separation is appointed for me.’
29. Having heard his words, the king shook like a tree struck by an elephant, and having seized his folded hands which were like a lotus, he thus addressed him in a voice choked with tears:
30. ‘O my son, keep back this thought, it is not the time for thee to betake thyself to dharma; they say that the practice of religion is full of evils in the first period of life when the mind is still fickle.
31. ‘The mind of the thoughtless ignorant young man whose senses are eager for worldly objects, and who has no power of settled resolution for the hardships of vows of penance, shrinks back from the forest, for it is especially destitute of discrimination.
32. ‘It is high time for me to practise religion, O my child of loved qualities, leaving my royal glory to thee who art well worthy to be distinguished by it; but thy religion, O firm-striding hero, is to be accomplished by heroism; it would be irreligion if thou wert to leave thine own father.
33. ‘Do thou therefore abandon this thy resolution; devote thyself for the present to the duties of a householder; to a man who has enjoyed the pleasures of his prime, it is delightful to enter the penance-forest.’
34. Having heard these words of the king, he made his reply in a voice soft like a sparrow’s: ‘If thou wilt be my surety, O king, against four contingencies, I will not betake myself to the forest.
35. ‘Let not my life be subject to death, and let not disease impair this health of mine; let not old age attack my youth, and let not misfortune destroy my weal.’
36. When his son uttered a speech so hard to be understood, the king of the Sâkyas thus replied: ‘Abandon this idea bent upon departure; extravagant desires are only ridiculous.’
37. Then he who was firm as Mount Meru addressed his father: ‘If this is impossible, then this course of mine is not to be hindered; it is not right to lay hold of one who would escape from a house that is on fire.
38. ‘As separation is inevitable to the world, but not for Dharma, this separation is preferable; will not death sever me helplessly, my objects unattained and myself unsatisfied?’
39. The monarch, having heard this resolve of his son longing for liberation, and having again exclaimed, ‘He shall not go,’ set guards round him and the highest pleasures.
40. Then having been duly instructed by the counsellors, with all respect and affection, according to the sâstras, and being thus forbidden with tears by his father, the prince, sorrowing, entered into his palace.
41. There he was gazed at by his wives with restless eyes, whose faces were kissed by their dangling earrings, and whose bosoms were shaken with their thick-coming sighs, — as by so many young fawns.
42. Bright like a golden mountain, and bewitching the hearts of the noble women, he enraptured their ears, limbs, eyes, and souls by his speech, touch, form, and qualities.
43. When the day was gone, then, shining with his form like the sun, he ascended the palace, as the rising sun ascends Mount Meru, desiring to dispel the darkness by his own splendour.
44. Having ascended, he repaired to a special golden seat decorated with embellishments of diamond, with tall lighted candlesticks ablaze with gold, and its interior filled with the incense of black aloe-wood.
45. Then the noblest of women waited during the night on the noblest of men who was like Indra himself, with a concert of musical instruments, as the crowds of heavenly nymphs wait on the son of the Lord of wealth upon the summit of Himavat, white like the moon.
46. But even by those beautiful instruments like heavenly music he was not moved to pleasure or delight; since his desire to go forth from his home to seek the bliss of the highest end was never lulled.
47. Then by the power of the heavenly beings most excellent in self-mortification, the Akanishthas, who knew the purpose of his heart, deep sleep was suddenly thrown on that company of women and their limbs and gestures became distorted.
48. One was lying there, resting her cheek on her trembling arm; leaving as in anger her lute, though dearly loved, which lay on her side, decorated with gold-leaf.
49. Another shone with her flute clinging to her hand, lying with her white garments fallen from her bosom, — like a river whose banks are smiling with the foam of the water and whose lotuses are covered with a straight line of bees.
50. Another was sleeping, embracing her drum as a lover, with her two arms tender like the shoot of young lotus and bearing their bracelets closely linked, blazing with gold.
