Hindu literature : Comprising The Book of good counsels, Nala and Damayanti, The Ramayana, and Sakoontala-1

HINDU LITERATURE

COMPRISING

THE BOOK OF GOOD COUNSELS, NALA AND DAMAYANTI, THE RÁMÁYANA AND

ŚAKOONTALÁ

WITH CRITICAL AND BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES BY

EPIPHANIUS WILSON, A.M.

REVISED EDITION

NEW YORK

P.F. COLLIER & SON

1900

THE COLONIAL PRESS

CONTENTS

The Story of the Jackal, Deer, and Crow

The Story of the Vulture, the Cat, and the Birds

The Story of the Dead Game and the Jackal

The Prince and the Wife of the Merchant's Son

The Story of the Old Jackal and the Elephant

The Story of the Lion, the Jackals, and the Bull

The Story of the Monkey and the Wedge

The Story of the Washerman's Jackass

The Story of the Cat who Served the Lion

The Story of the Terrible Bell

The Story of the Prince and the Procuress

The Story of the Black Snake and the Golden Chain

The Story of the Lion and the Old Hare

The Story of the Wagtail and the Sea

The Battle of the Swans and Peacocks

The Story of the Weaver-Birds and the Monkeys

The Story of the Old Hare and the Elephants

The Story of the Heron and the Crow

The Story of the Appeased Wheelwright

The Story of the Dyed Jackal

The Story of the Faithful Rajpoot

The Treaty Between the Peacocks and the Swans

The Story of the Tortoise and the Geese

The Story of Fate and the Three Fishes

The Story of the Unabashed Wife

The Story of the Herons and the Mongoose

The Story of the Recluse and the Mouse

The Story of the Crane and the Crab

The Story of the Brahman and the Pans

The Duel of the Giants

The Story of the Brahman and the Goat

The Story of the Camel, the Lion, and His Court

The Story of the Frogs and the Old Serpent

Introduction

NALA AND DAMAYANTI.—

Part I

Part II

Introduction

Invocation

BOOK I.—

CANTO

I.—Nárad

[Cantos II., III., IV., and V. are omitted]

VI.—The King

VII.—The Ministers

VIII.—Sumantra's Speech

IX.—Rishyaśring

X.—Rishyaśring Invited

XI.—The Sacrifice Decreed

XII.—The Sacrifice Begun

XIII.—The Sacrifice Finished

XIV.—Rávan Doomed

XV.—The Nectar

XVI.—The Vánars

XVII.—Rishyaśring's Return

XVIII.—Rishyaśring's Departure

XIX.—The Birth of the Princes

XX.—Viśvámitra's Visit

XXI.—Viśvámitra's Speech

XXII.—Daśaratha's Speech

XXIII.—Vaśishtha's Speech

XXIV.—The Spells

XXV.—The Hermitage of Love

XXVI.—The Forest of Tádaká

XXVII.—The Birth of Tádaká

XXVIII.—The Death of Tádaká

XXIX.—The Celestial Arms

XXX.—The Mysterious Powers

XXXI.—The Perfect Hermitage

XXXII.—Viśvámitra's Sacrifice

XXXIII.—The Sone

XXXIV.—Brahmadatta

XXXV.—Viśvámitra's Lineage

XXXVI.—The Birth of Gangá

[Cantos XXXVII. and XXXVIII. are omitted]

XXXIX.—The Son of Sagar

XL.—The Cleaving of the Earth

XLI.—Kapil

XLII.—Sagar's Sacrifice

XLIII.—Bhagírath

Introduction

Dramatis Personae

Rules for Pronunciation of Proper Names

Prologue

Act First

Act Second

Prelude to Act Third

Act Third

Prelude to Act Fourth

Act Fourth

Act Fifth

Prelude to Act Sixth

Act Sixth

Act Seventh

POEMS BY TORU DUTT

Introduction

BALLADS OF HINDOSTAN.—

Jogadhya Uma

Buttoo

Sindhu.—

Part I

Part II

Part III

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.—

Near Hastings

France

The Tree of Life

Madame Thérèse

Sonnet

Sonnet

Our Casuarina-Tree

THE BOOK OF GOOD COUNSELS

SELECTED FROM

THE HITOPADEŚA

[Translated from the Sanscrit by Sir Edwin Arnold]

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

A story-book from the Sanscrit at least possesses the minor merit of

novelty. The "perfect language" has been hitherto regarded as the

province of scholars, and few of these even have found time or taste to

search its treasures. And yet among them is the key to the heart of

modern India—as well as the splendid record of her ancient Gods and

glories. The hope of Hindostan lies in the intelligent interest of

England. Whatever avails to dissipate misconceptions between them, and

to enlarge their intimacy, is a gain to both peoples; and to this end

the present volume aspires, in an humble degree, to contribute.

The "Hitopadeśa" is a work of high antiquity, and extended popularity.

The prose is doubtless as old as our own era; but the intercalated

verses and proverbs compose a selection from writings of an age

extremely remote. The "Mahabharata" and the textual Veds are of those

quoted; to the first of which Professor M. Williams (in his admirable

edition of the "Nala," 1860) assigns a date of 350 B.C., while he claims

for the "Rig-Veda" an antiquity as high as B.C. 1300. The "Hitopadeśa"

may thus be fairly styled "The Father of all Fables"; for from its

numerous translations have come Æsop and Pilpay, and in later days

Reineke Fuchs. Originally compiled in Sanscrit, it was rendered, by

order of Nushiraván, in the sixth century, A.D., into Persic. From the

Persic it passed, A.D. 850, into the Arabic, and thence into Hebrew and

Greek. In its own land it obtained as wide a circulation. The Emperor

Acbar, impressed with the wisdom of its maxims and the ingenuity of its

apologues, commended the work of translating it to his own Vizir, Abdul

Fazel. That minister accordingly put the book into a familiar style, and

published it with explanations, under the title of the "Criterion of

Wisdom." The Emperor had also suggested the abridgment of the long

series of shlokes which here and there interrupt the narrative, and the

Vizir found this advice sound, and followed it, like the present

Translator. To this day, in India, the "Hitopadeśa," under other names

(as the "Anvári Suhaili"), retains the delighted attention of young

and old, and has some representative in all the Indian vernaculars. A

work so well esteemed in the East cannot be unwelcome to Western

readers, who receive it here, a condensed but faithful transcript of

sense and manner.

As often as an Oriental allusion, or a name in Hindoo mythology, seemed

to ask some explanation for the English reader, notes have been

appended, bearing reference to the page. In their compilation, and

generally, acknowledgment is due to Professor Johnson's excellent

version and edition of the "Hitopadeśa," and to Mr. Muir's "Sanscrit

Texts."

A residence in India, and close intercourse with the Hindoos, have given

the author a lively desire to subserve their advancement. No one listens

now to the precipitate ignorance which would set aside as "heathenish"

the high civilization of this great race; but justice is not yet done to

their past development and present capacities. If the wit, the morality,

and the philosophy of these "beasts of India" (so faithfully rendered by

Mr. Harrison Weir) surprise any vigorous mind into further exploration

of her literature, and deeper sense of our responsibility in her

government, the author will be repaid.

EDWIN ARNOLD.

THE BOOK OF GOOD COUNSELS

INTRODUCTION

Honor to Gunesh, God of Wisdom

This book of Counsel read, and you shall see,

Fair speech and Sanscrit lore, and Policy.

On the banks of the holy river Ganges there stood a city named

Pataliputra. The King of it was a good King and a virtuous, and his name

was Sudarsana. It chanced one day that he overheard a certain person

reciting these verses—

"Wise men, holding wisdom highest, scorn delights, as false as fair,

Daily live they as Death's fingers twined already in their hair.

Truly, richer than all riches, better than the best of gain,

Wisdom is, unbought, secure—once won, none loseth her again.

Bringing dark things into daylight, solving doubts that vex the mind,

Like an open eye is Wisdom—he that hath her not is blind."

Hearing these the King became disquieted, knowing that his own sons were

gaining no wisdom, nor reading the Sacred Writings, but altogether

going in the wrong way; and he repeated this verse to himself—

"Childless art thou? dead thy children? leaving thee to want and dool?

Less thy misery than his is, who is father to a fool."

And again this—

"One wise son makes glad his father, forty fools avail him not:—

One moon silvers all that darkness which the silly stars did dot."

"And it has been said," reflected he—

"Ease and health, obeisant children, wisdom, and a fair-voiced wife—

Thus, great King! are counted up the five felicities of life.

For the son the sire is honored; though the bow-cane bendeth true,

Let the strained string crack in using, and what service shall it do?"

"Nevertheless," mused the King, "I know it is urged that human efforts

are useless: as, for instance—

"That which will not be, will not be—and what is to be, will be:—

Why not drink this easy physic, antidote of misery?"

"But then that comes from idleness, with people who will not do what

they should do. Rather,

"Nay! and faint not, idly sighing, 'Destiny is mightiest,'

Sesamum holds oil in plenty, but it yieldeth none unpressed.

Ah! it is the Coward's babble, 'Fortune taketh, Fortune gave;'

Fortune! rate her like a master, and she serves thee like a slave."

"For indeed,

"Twofold is the life we live in—Fate and Will together run:—

Two wheels bear life's chariot onward—will it move on only one?"

"And

"Look! the clay dries into iron, but the potter moulds the clay:—

Destiny to-day is master—Man was master yesterday."

"So verily,

"Worthy ends come not by wishing. Wouldst thou? Up, and win it, then!

While the hungry lion slumbers, not a deer comes to his den."

Having concluded his reflections, the Raja gave orders to assemble a

meeting of learned men. Then said he—

"Hear now, O my Pundits! Is there one among you so wise that he will

undertake to give the second birth of Wisdom to these my sons, by

teaching them the Books of Policy; for they have never yet read the

Sacred Writings, and are altogether going in the wrong road; and ye know

that

"Silly glass, in splendid settings, something of the gold may gain;

And in company of wise ones, fools to wisdom may attain."

Then uprose a great Sage, by name Vishnu-Sarman, learned in the

principles of Policy as is the angel of the planet Jupiter himself, and

he said—

"My Lord King, I will undertake to teach these princes Policy, seeing

they are born of a great house; for—

"Labors spent on the unworthy, of reward the laborer balk;

Like the parrot, teach the heron twenty times, he will not talk."

"But in this royal family the offspring are royal-minded, and in six

moons I will engage to make your Majesty's sons comprehend Policy."

The Raja replied, with condescension:—

"On the eastern mountains lying, common things shine in the sun,

And by learned minds enlightened, lower minds may show as one."

"And you, worshipful sir, are competent to teach my children the rules

of Policy."

So saying, with much graciousness, he gave the Princes into the charge

of Vishnu-Sarman; and that sage, by way of introduction, spake to the

Princes, as they sat at ease on the balcony of the palace, in this

wise:—

"Hear now, my Princes! for the delectation of your Highnesses, I purpose

to tell the tale of the Crow, the Tortoise, the Deer, and the Mouse."

"Pray, sir," said the King's sons, "let us hear it."

Vishnu-Sarman answered—

"It begins with the Winning of Friends; and this is the first verse of

it:—

"Sans way or wealth, wise friends their purpose gain—

The Mouse, Crow, Deer, and Tortoise make this plain."

THE WINNING OF FRIENDS

Sans way or wealth, wise friends their purpose gain—

The Mouse, Crow, Deer, and Tortoise make this plain."

"However was that?" asked the Princes.

Vishnu-Sarman replied:—

"On the banks of the Godavery there stood a large silk-cotton-tree, and

thither at night, from all quarters and regions, the birds came to

roost. Now once, when the night was just spent, and his Radiance the

Moon, Lover of the white lotus, was about to retire behind the western

hills, a Crow who perched there, 'Light o' Leap' by name, upon

awakening, saw to his great wonder a fowler approaching—a second God of

Death. The sight set him reflecting, as he flew off uneasily to follow

up the man's movements, and he began to think what mischief this

ill-omened apparition foretold.

"For a thousand thoughts of sorrow, and a hundred things of dread,

By the wise unheeded, trouble day by day the foolish head."

And yet in this life it must be that

"Of the day's impending dangers, Sickness, Death, and Misery,

One will be; the wise man waking, ponders which that one will be."

Presently the fowler fixed a net, scattered grains of rice about, and

withdrew to hide. At this moment "Speckle-neck," King of the Pigeons,

chanced to be passing through the sky with his Court, and caught sight

of the rice-grains. Thereupon the King of the Pigeons asked of his

rice-loving followers, 'How can there possibly be rice-grains lying here

in an unfrequented forest? We will see into it, of course, but We like

not the look of it—love of rice may ruin us, as the Traveller was

ruined.

"All out of longing for a golden bangle,

The Tiger, in the mud, the man did mangle."

"How did that happen?" asked the Pigeons.

The Story of the Tiger and the Traveller

"Thus," replied Speckle-neck: "I was pecking about one day in the Deccan

forest, and saw an old tiger sitting newly bathed on the bank of a pool,

like a Brahman, and with holy kuskus-grass in his paws.

'Ho! ho! ye travellers,' he kept calling out, 'take this golden bangle!'

Presently a covetous fellow passed by and heard him.

'Ah!' thought he, 'this is a bit of luck—but I must not risk my neck

for it either.

"Good things come not out of bad things; wisely leave a longed-for ill.

Nectar being mixed with poison serves no purpose but to kill."

'But all gain is got by risk, so I will see into it at least;' then he

called out, 'Where is thy bangle?'

The Tiger stretched forth his paw and exhibited it.

'Hem!' said the Traveller, 'can I trust such a fierce brute as thou

art?'

'Listen,' replied the Tiger, 'once, in the days of my cub-hood, I know I

was very wicked. I killed cows, Brahmans, and men without number—and I

lost my wife and children for it—and haven't kith or kin left. But

lately I met a virtuous man who counselled me to practise the duty of

almsgiving—and, as thou seest, I am strict at ablutions and alms.

Besides, I am old, and my nails and fangs are gone—so who would

mistrust me? and I have so far conquered selfishness, that I keep the

golden bangle for whoso comes. Thou seemest poor! I will give it thee.

Is it not said,

'Give to poor men, son of Kûnti—on the wealthy waste not wealth;

Good are simples for the sick man, good for nought to him in health.'

'Wade over the pool, therefore, and take the bangle,'

Thereupon the covetous Traveller determined to trust him, and waded into

the pool, where he soon found himself plunged in mud, and unable to

move.

'Ho! ho!' says the Tiger, 'art thou stuck in a slough? stay, I will

fetch thee out!'

So saying he approached the wretched man and seized him—who meanwhile

bitterly reflected—

'Be his Scripture-learning wondrous, yet the cheat will be a cheat;

Be her pasture ne'er so bitter, yet the cow's milk will be sweet.'

And on that verse, too—

'Trust not water, trust not weapons; trust not clawed nor horned things;

Neither give thy soul to women, nor thy life to Sons of Kings.'

And those others—

'Look! the Moon, the silver roamer, from whose splendor darkness flies

With his starry cohorts marching, like a crowned king through the skies.

All the grandeur, all the glory, vanish in the Dragon's jaw;

What is written on the forehead, that will be, and nothing more,'

Here his meditations were cut short by the Tiger devouring him. "And

that," said Speckle-neck, "is why we counselled caution."

"Why, yes!" said a certain pigeon, with some presumption, "but you've

read the verse—

'Counsel in danger; of it

Unwarned, be nothing begun.

But nobody asks a Prophet

Shall the risk of a dinner be run?'

Hearing that, the Pigeons settled at once; for we know that

"Avarice begetteth anger; blind desires from her begin;

A right fruitful mother is she of a countless spawn of sin.'

And again,

'Can a golden Deer have being? yet for such the Hero pined:—

When the cloud of danger hovers, then its shadow dims the mind.'

Presently they were caught in the net. Thereat, indeed, they all began

to abuse the pigeon by whose suggestion they had been ensnared. It is

the old tale!

"Be second and not first!—the share's the same

If all go well. If not, the Head's to blame."

And we should remember that

"Passion will be Slave or Mistress: follow her, she brings to woe;

Lead her, 'tis the way to Fortune. Choose the path that thou wilt go."

When King Speckle-neck heard their reproaches, he said, "No, no! it is

no fault of his.

'When the time of trouble cometh, friends may ofttimes irk us most: For

the calf at milking-hour the mother's leg is tying-post.'

'And in disaster, dismay is a coward's quality; let us rather rely on

fortitude, and devise some remedy. How saith the sage?

"In good fortune not elated, in ill-fortune not dismayed,

Ever eloquent in council, never in the fight affrayed—

Proudly emulous of honor, steadfastly on wisdom set;

Perfect virtues in the nature of a noble soul are met.

Whoso hath them, gem and glory of the three wide worlds is he;

Happy mother she that bore him, she who nursed him on her knee."

"Let us do this now directly," continued the King: "at one moment and

with one will, rising under the net, let us fly off with it: for indeed

'Small things wax exceeding mighty, being cunningly combined:—

Furious elephants are fastened with a rope of grass-blades twined.'

"And it is written, you know,

'Let the household hold together, though the house be ne'er so small;

Strip the rice-husk from the rice-grain, and it groweth not at all.'

Having pondered this advice, the Pigeons adopted it; and flew away with

the net. At first the fowler, who was at a distance, hoped to recover

them, but as they passed out of sight with the snare about them he gave

up the pursuit. Perceiving this, the Pigeons said,

"What is the next thing to be done, O King?"

"A friend of mine," said Speckle-neck, "lives near in a beautiful forest

on the Gundaki. Golden-skin is his name—the King of the Mice—he is the

one to cut these bonds."

Resolving to have recourse to him, they directed their flight to the

hole of Golden-skin—a prudent monarch, who dreaded danger so much that

he had made himself a palace with a hundred outlets, and lived always in

it. Sitting there he heard the descent of the pigeons, and remained

silent and alarmed.

"Friend Golden-skin," cried the King, "have you no welcome for us?"

"Ah, my friend!" said the Mouse-king, rushing out on recognizing the

voice, "is it thou art come, Speckle-neck! how delightful!—But what is

this?" exclaimed he, regarding the entangled net.

"That," said King Speckle-neck, "is the effect of some wrong-doing in a

former life—

'Sickness, anguish, bonds, and woe

Spring from wrongs wrought long ago,'

Golden-skin, without replying, ran at once to the net, and began to gnaw

the strings that held Speckle-neck.

"Nay! friend, not so," said the King, "cut me first these meshes from my

followers, and afterwards thou shalt sever mine."

"I am little," answered Golden-skin, "and my teeth are weak—how can I

gnaw so much? No! no! I will nibble your strings as long as my teeth

last, and afterwards do my best for the others. To preserve dependents

by sacrificing oneself is nowhere enjoined by wise moralists; on the

contrary—

'Keep wealth for want, but spend-it for thy wife,

And wife, and wealth, and all to guard thy life,'

"Friend," replied King Speckle-neck, "that may be the rule of policy,

but I am one that can by no means bear to witness the distress of those

who depend on me, for—

'Death, that must come, comes nobly when we give

Our wealth, and life, and all, to make men live,'

And you know the verse,

'Friend, art thou faithful? guard mine honor so!

And let the earthy rotting body go,'"

When King Golden-skin heard this answer his heart was charmed, and his

fur bristled up for pure pleasure. "Nobly spoken, friend," said he,

"nobly spoken! with such a tenderness for those that look to thee, the

Sovereignty of the Three Worlds might be fitly thine." So saying he set

himself to cut all their bonds. This done, and the pigeons extricated,

the King of the Mice gave them his formal welcome. "But, your

Majesty," he said, "this capture in the net was a work of destiny; you

must not blame yourself as you did, and suspect a former fault. Is it

not written—

'Floating on his fearless pinions, lost amid the noon-day skies,

Even thence the Eagle's vision kens the carcase where it lies;

But the hour that comes to all things comes unto the Lord of Air,

And he rushes, madly blinded, to his ruin in the snare,'"

With this correction Golden-skin proceeded to perform the duties of

hospitality, and afterwards, embracing and dismissing them, the pigeons

left for such destination as they fancied, and the King of the Mice

retired again into his hole.

Now Light o' Leap, the Crow, had been a spectator of the whole

transaction, and wondered at it so much that at last he called out, "Ho!

Golden-skin, thou very laudable Prince, let me too be a friend of thine,

and give me thy friendship."

"Who art thou?" said Golden-skin, who heard him, but would not come out

of his hole.

"I am the Crow Light o' Leap," replied the other.

"How can I possibly be on good terms with thee?" answered Golden-skin

with a laugh; "have you never read—

'When Food is friends with Feeder, look for Woe,

The Jackal ate the Deer, but for the Crow,'

"No! how was that?"

"I will tell thee," replied Golden-skin:—

The Story of the Jackal, Deer, and Crow

"Far away in Behar there is a forest called Champak-Grove, and in it

had long lived in much affection a Deer and a Crow. The Deer, roaming

unrestrained, happy and fat of carcase, was one day descried by a

Jackal. 'Ho! ho!' thought the Jackal on observing him, 'if I could but

get this soft meat for a meal! It might be—if I can only win his

confidence,' Thus reflecting he approached, and saluted him.

'Health be to thee, friend Deer!'

'Who art thou?' said the Deer.

'I'm Small-wit, the Jackal,' replied the other. 'I live in the wood

here, as the dead do, without a friend; but now that I have met with

such a friend as thou, I feel as if I were beginning life again with

plenty of relations. Consider me your faithful servant.'

'Very well,' said the Deer; and then, as the glorious King of Day, whose

diadem is the light, had withdrawn himself, the two went together to the

residence of the Deer. In that same spot, on a branch of Champak, dwelt

the Crow Sharp-sense, an old friend of the Deer. Seeing them approach

together, the Crow said,

'Who is this number two, friend Deer?'

'It is a Jackal,' answered the Deer, 'that desires our acquaintance.'

'You should not become friendly to a stranger without reason,' said

Sharp-sense. 'Don't you know?'

"To folks by no one known house-room deny:—

The Vulture housed the Cat, and thence did die."

'No! how was that?' said both.

'In this wise,' answered the Crow.

The Story of the Vulture, the Cat, and the Birds

"On the banks of the Ganges there is a cliff called Vulture-Crag, and

thereupon grew a great fig-tree. It was hollow, and within its shelter

lived an old Vulture, named Grey-pate, whose hard fortune it was to have

lost both eyes and talons. The birds that roosted in the tree made

subscriptions from their own store, out of sheer pity for the poor

fellow, and by that means he managed to live. One day, when the old

birds were gone, Long-ear, the Cat, came there to get a meal of the

nestlings; and they, alarmed at perceiving him, set up a chirruping that

roused Grey-pate.

'Who comes there?' croaked Grey-pate.

"Now Long-ear, on espying the Vulture, thought himself undone; but as

flight was impossible, he resolved to trust his destiny and approach.

'My lord,' said he, 'I have the honor to salute thee.'

'Who is it?' said the Vulture.

'I am a Cat,'

'Be off, Cat, or I shall slay thee,' said the Vulture.

'I am ready to die if I deserve death,' answered the Cat; 'but let what

I have to say be heard,'

'Wherefore, then, comest thou?' said the Vulture.

'I live,' began Long-ear, 'on the Ganges, bathing, and eating no flesh,

practising the moon-penance, like a Bramacharya. The birds that

resort thither constantly praise your worship to me as one wholly given

to the study of morality, and worthy of all trust; and so I came here to

learn law from thee, Sir, who art so deep gone in learning and in years.

Dost thou, then, so read the law of strangers as to be ready to slay a

guest? What say the books about the householder?—

'Bar thy door not to the stranger, be he friend or be he foe,

For the tree will shade the woodman while his axe doth lay it low,'

And if means fail, what there is should be given with kind words, as—

'Greeting fair, and room to rest in; fire, and water from the well—

Simple gifts—are given freely in the house where good men dwell,'—

and without respect of person—

'Young, or bent with many winters; rich, or poor, whate'er thy guest,

Honor him for thine own honor—better is he than the best,'

Else comes the rebuke—

'Pity them that ask thy pity: who art thou to stint thy hoard,

When the holy moon shines equal on the leper and the lord!'

And that other, too,

'When thy gate is roughly fastened, and the asker turns away,

Thence he bears thy good deeds with him, and his sins on thee doth lay

For verily,

'In the house the husband ruleth, men the Brahmans "master" call;

Agni is the Twice-born Master—but the guest is lord of all,'

"To these weighty words Grey-pate answered,

'Yes! but cats like meat, and there are young birds here, and therefore

I said, go,'

'Sir,' said the Cat (and as he spoke he touched the ground, and then his

two ears, and called on Krishna to witness to his words), 'I that have

overcome passion, and practised the moon-penance, know the Scriptures;

and howsoever they contend, in this primal duty of abstaining from

injury they are unanimous. Which of them sayeth not—

'He who does and thinks no wrong—

He who suffers, being strong—

He whose harmlessness men know—

Unto Swerga such doth go.'

"And so, winning the old Vulture's confidence, Long-ear, the Cat,

entered the hollow tree and lived there. And day after day he stole away

some of the nestlings, and brought them down to the hollow to devour.

Meantime the parent birds, whose little ones were being eaten, made an

inquiry after them in all quarters; and the Cat, discovering this fact,

slipped out from the hollow, and made his escape. Afterwards, when the

birds came to look closely, they found the bones of their young ones in

the hollow of the tree where Grey-pate lived; and the birds at once

concluded that their nestlings had been killed and eaten by the old

Vulture, whom they accordingly executed. That is my story, and why I

warned you against unknown acquaintances."

"Sir," said the Jackal, with some warmth, "on the first day of your

encountering the Deer you also were of unknown family and character: how

is it, then, that your friendship with him grows daily greater? True, I

am only Small-wit, the Jackal, but what says the saw?—

"In the land where no wise men are, men of little wit are lords;

And the castor-oil's a tree, where no tree else its shade affords."

The Deer is my friend; condescend, sir, to be my friend also."

'Oh!' broke in the Deer, 'why so much talking? We'll all live together,

and be friendly and happy—

'Foe is friend, and friend is foe,

As our actions make them so,'

"Very good," said Sharp-sense; "as you will;" and in the morning each

started early for his own feeding-ground (returning at night). One day

the Jackal drew the Deer aside, and whispered, 'Deer, in one corner of

this wood there is a field full of sweet young wheat; come and let me

show you.' The Deer accompanied him, and found the field, and afterwards

went every day there to eat the green corn, till at last the owner of

the ground spied him and set a snare. The Deer came again very shortly,

and was caught in it, and (after vainly struggling) exclaimed, 'I am

fast in the net, and it will be a net of death to me if no friend comes

to rescue me!' Presently Small-wit, the Jackal, who had been lurking

near, made his appearance, and standing still, he said to himself, with

a chuckle, 'O ho! my scheme bears fruit! When he is cut up, his bones,

and gristle, and blood, will fall to my share and make me some beautiful

dinners,' The Deer, here catching sight of him, exclaimed with rapture,

'Ah, friend, this is excellent! Do but gnaw these strings, and I shall

be at liberty. How charming to realize the saying!—

'That friend only is the true friend who is near when trouble comes;

That man only is the brave man who can bear the battle-drums;

Words are wind; deed proveth promise: he who helps at need is kin;

And the leal wife is loving though the husband lose or win,'

And is it not written—

'Friend and kinsman—more their meaning than the idle-hearted mind.

Many a friend can prove unfriendly, many a kinsman less than kind:

He who shares his comrade's portion, be he beggar, be he lord,

Comes as truly, comes as duly, to the battle as the board—

Stands before the king to succor, follows to the pile to sigh—

He is friend, and he is kinsman—less would make the name a lie.'

"Small-wit answered nothing, but betook himself to examining the snare

very closely.

'This will certainly hold,' muttered he; then, turning to the Deer, he

said, 'Good friend, these strings, you see, are made of sinew, and

to-day is a fast-day, so that I cannot possibly bite them. To-morrow

morning, if you still desire it, I shall be happy to serve you,'

When he was gone, the Crow, who had missed the Deer upon returning that

evening, and had sought for him everywhere, discovered him; and seeing

his sad plight, exclaimed—

'How came this about, my friend?'

'This came,' replied the Deer, 'through disregarding a friend's advice,'

'Where is that rascal Small-wit?' asked the Crow.

'He is waiting somewhere by,' said the Deer, 'to taste my flesh,'

'Well,' sighed the Crow, 'I warned you; but it is as in the true verse—

'Stars gleam, lamps flicker, friends foretell of fate;

The fated sees, knows, hears them—all too late.'

And then, with a deeper sigh, he exclaimed,'Ah, traitor Jackal, what an

ill deed hast thou done! Smooth-tongued knave—alas!—and in the face of

the monition too—

'Absent, flatterers' tongues are daggers—present, softer than the silk;

Shun them! 'tis a jar of poison hidden under harmless milk;

Shun them when they promise little! Shun them when they promise much!

For, enkindled, charcoal burneth—cold, it doth defile the touch.'

When the day broke, the Crow (who was still there) saw the master of the

field approaching with his club in his hand.

'Now, friend Deer,' said Sharp-sense on perceiving him, 'do thou cause

thyself to seem like one dead: puff thy belly up with wind, stiffen thy

legs out, and lie very still. I will make a show of pecking thine eyes

out with my beak; and whensoever I utter a croak, then spring to thy

feet and betake thee to flight.'