And the next day after this the army of the Vidyádharas was suddenly

seen in the sky, dense as a cloud at the end of the kalpa, uttering

a terrible shout. Then Dhanavatí, calling to mind her magic science,

said, "This is Gaurímunda come with Mánasavega." Then those kings of

the Vidyádharas and the Gandharvas raised their weapons, but Gaurímunda

with Mánasavega rushed upon them exclaiming, "What right has a mere

man to rank with beings like us? So I will to-day crush your pride,

you sky-goers that take part with him." When Gaurímunda said this,

Chitrángada rushed upon him angrily, and attacked him.

And king Ságaradatta, the sovereign of the Gandharvas, and Chandasinha,

and Amitagati, and king Váyupatha, and Pingalagándhára, and all

the chiefs of the Vidyádharas, great heroes all, rushed upon the

wicked Mánasavega, roaring like lions, followed by the whole of their

forces. And right terrible was that storm of battle, thick with the

clouds of dust raised by the army, with the gleams of weapons for

flashes of lightning, and a falling rain of blood. And so Chitrángada

and his friends made, as it were, a great sacrifice for the demons,

which was full of blood for wine, and in which the heads of enemies

were strewn as an offering. And streams of gore flowed away, full of

bodies for alligators, and floating weapons for snakes, and in which

marrow intermingled took the place of cuttle-fish bone.

Then Gaurímunda, as his army was slain, and he himself was nigh

to death, called to mind the magic science of Gaurí, which he had

formerly propitiated and made well-disposed to him; and that science

appeared in visible form, with three eyes, armed with the trident,

[551] and paralysed the chief heroes of Naraváhanadatta's army. Then

Gaurímunda, having regained strength, rushed with a loud shout towards

Naraváhanadatta, and fell on him to try his strength in wrestling. And

being beaten by him in wrestling, the cogging Vidyádhara again summoned

up that science, and by its power he seized his antagonist in his

arms and flew up to the sky. However, he was prevented by the might

of Dhanavatí's science from slaying the prince, so he flung him down

on the mountain of fire.

But Mánasavega seized his comrades Gomukha and the rest, and

flew up into the sky with them, and flung them at random in all

directions. But, after they had been flung up, they were preserved

by a science in visible shape employed by Dhanavatí, and placed in

different spots on the earth. And that science comforted those heroes,

one by one, saying to them, "You will soon recover that master of yours

successful and flourishing," and having said this it disappeared. Then

Gaurímunda went back home with Mánasavega, thinking that their side

had been victorious.

But Dhanavatí said, "Naraváhanadatta will return to you after he

has attained his object, no harm will befall him;" and thereupon the

lords of the Gandharvas and princes of the Vidyádharas, Chitrángada

and the others, flung off their paralysing stupor, and went for the

present to their own abodes. And Dhanavatí took her daughter Ajinávatí,

with all her fellow-wives, and went to her own home.

Mánasavega, for his part, went and said to Madanamanchuká, "Your

husband is slain; so you had better marry me;" but she, standing in

front of him, said to him laughing, "He will slay you, no one can

slay him, as he has been appointed by the god."

But when Naraváhanadatta was being hurled down by his enemy on the

mountain of fire, a certain heavenly being came there, and received

him; and after preserving his life, he took him quickly to the cool

bank of the Mandákiní. And when Naraváhanadatta asked him who he

was, he comforted him, and said to him, "I, prince, am a king of the

Vidyádharas named Amritaprabha, and I have been sent by Siva on the

present occasion to save your life. Here is the mountain of Kailása

in front of you, the dwelling-place of that god; if you propitiate

Siva there, you will obtain unimpeded felicity. So, come, I will take

you there." When that noble Vidyádhara had said this, he immediately

conveyed him there, and took leave of him, and departed.

But Naraváhanadatta, when he had reached Kailása, propitiated with

asceticism Ganesa, whom he found there in front of him. And after

obtaining his permission, he entered the hermitage of Siva, emaciated

with self-mortification, and he beheld Nandin at the door. He devoutly

circumambulated him, and then Nandin said to him, "Thou hast well-nigh

attained all thy ends; for all the obstacles that hindered thee have

now been overcome; so remain here, and perform a strict course of

asceticism that will subdue sin, until thou shalt have propitiated

the adorable god; for successes depend on purity." When Nandin had

said this, Naraváhanadatta began a severe course of penance there,

living on air and meditating on the god Siva and the goddess Párvatí.

And the adorable god Siva, pleased with his asceticism, granted him

a vision of himself, and accompanied by the goddess, thus spake to

the prince, as he bent before him, "Become now emperor over all the

Vidyádharas, and let all the most transcendent sciences be immediately

revealed to thee! By my favour thou shalt become invincible by thy

enemies, and, as thou shalt be proof against cut or thrust, thou

shalt slay all thy foes. And when thou appearest, the sciences of

thy enemies shall be of no avail against thee. So go forth: even

the science of Gaurí shall be subject to thee." When Siva and Gaurí

had bestowed these boons on Naraváhanadatta, the god also gave him a

great imperial chariot, in the form of a lotus, made by Brahmá. Then

all the sciences presented themselves to the prince in bodily form,

and expressed their desire to carry out his orders by saying, "What

do you enjoin on us, that we may perform it?"

Accordingly Naraváhanadatta, having obtained many boons, bowed before

the great god, and ascended the heavenly lotus-chariot, after he had

received permission from him to depart, and went first to the city

of Amitagati, named Vakrapura; and as he went, the sciences shewed

him the path, and the bards of the Siddhas sang his praises. And

Amitagati, seeing him from a distance, as he came along through the

air, mounted on a chariot, advanced to meet him and bowed before

him, and made him enter his palace. And when he described how he had

obtained all these magic powers, Amitagati was so delighted that he

gave him as a present his own daughter named Sulochaná. And with her,

thus obtained, like a second imperial fortune of the Vidyádhara race,

the emperor joyfully passed that day as one long festival.

CHAPTER CVIII.

The next day, as the new emperor Naraváhanadatta was sitting in

Vakrapura, in the hall of audience, a certain man descended from

heaven, with a wand in his hand, and came up to him, and bowing

before him, said to him, "Know, O king, that I am Pauraruehideva the

hereditary warder of the emperor of the Vidyádharas, and I am come here

to tender my services to you in that capacity." When Naraváhanadatta

heard this, he looked at the face of Amitagati; and he said, "It is

true, my liege:" so Naraváhanadatta gladly admitted the new-comer to

the office of warder.

Then Dhanavatí, finding out by her power what had occurred, with his

wives Vegavatí and the others, and her son Chandasinha, and king

Pingalagándhára with Váyupatha, and Chitrángada with Ságaradatta,

and Hemaprabha and the others came there, obscuring the sun with

their armies; as if declaring beforehand that they would endure no

fire and heat in their foes. When they arrived, they fell at the feet

of that emperor, and he honoured them with a welcome as their rank

deserved, but, out of great veneration, he himself fell at the feet

of Dhanavatí, and she, being highly pleased, loaded that son-in-law

of her's with blessings. And when he told the story of his obtaining

magic powers, Chandasinha and the others were exceedingly gratified

at their emperor's success.

And the emperor, seeing that his wives had arrived in his presence,

said to Dhanavatí, "Where are my ministers?" And she answered him,

"When they had been flung in all directions by Mánasavega, I saved

them by the help of a mighty science, and placed them in different

spots." Then he had them brought by a science incarnate in bodily form;

and they came and enquired after his welfare and clung to his feet,

and then he said to them, "Why and how and where have you spent so

many days? Tell me one by one your marvellous tale." Then Gomukha

told his story first.

Gomukha's account of his adventures.

When I was flung away by the enemy on that occasion, some goddess

bore me up in her hands, and comforted me, and placed me in a distant

forest, and disappeared. Then I was minded in my affliction to abandon

the body by hurling myself from a precipice; but a certain ascetic

came up to me and dissuaded me saying, "Do not act thus, Gomukha,

you will again behold your master when he has gained his object." Then

I said to him, "Who are you, and how do you know that?" He answered,

"Come to my hermitage, and there I will tell you." Then I went with

that man, who by his knowing my name had proved the greatness of his

knowledge, to his hermitage, which was called Sivakshetra. There he

entertained me and told me his story in the following words:

Story of Nágasvámin and the witches.

I am a Bráhman named Nágasvámin, from a city called Kundina. When

my father went to heaven, I went to Pátaliputra, and repaired to a

teacher named Jayadatta, to acquire learning. But in spite of all the

teaching that I got, I was so stupid that I did not manage to learn

a single syllable; so all the pupils there made game of me. Then,

being the victim of contempt, I set out on a pilgrimage to the shrine

of the goddess Durgá in the Vindhya mountains; and when I had got

halfway I came across a city named Vakrolaka.

I went into that city to beg; and in one house the mistress gave me

with my alms a red lotus. I took it, and went on to another house,

and there the mistress said to me, when she saw me, "Alas! a witch

has secured possession of you. See! she has given you a man's hand,

[552] which she has passed off on you for a red lotus." When I heard

that, I looked myself, and lo! it was no lotus, but a human hand. I

flung it away, and fell at her feet, and said, "Mother, devise some

expedient for me, that I may live." When she heard this she said,

"Go! in a village of the name of Karabha, three yojanas distant from

this place, there is a Bráhman of the name of Devarakshita. He has

in his house a splendid brown cow, an incarnation of Surabhi; she

will protect you during this night, if you repair to her for refuge."

When she said this, I ran full of fear, and reached, at the close of

the day, the house of that Bráhman in the village of Karabha. When I

had entered, I beheld that brown cow, and I worshipped her and said,

"Being terrified, goddess, I have come to you for protection." And just

then, night having set in, that witch came there through the air with

other witches, threatening me, longing for my flesh and blood. When the

brown cow saw that, she placed me between her hoofs, and defended me,

fighting against those witches all the livelong night. In the morning

they went away, and the cow said to me with an articulate voice,

"My son, I shall not be able to protect you the next night. So go

on further; at a distance of five yojanas from this place there is

a mighty Pásupata ascetic named Bhútisiva, dwelling in a temple of

Siva in a forest. He possesses supernatural knowledge, and he will

protect you for this one night, if you take refuge with him."

When I heard that, I bowed before her, and set out from that place;

and I soon reached that Bhútisiva, and took refuge with him. And

at night those very same witches came there also in the very same

way. Then that Bhútisiva made me enter the inner apartment of his

house, [553] and taking up a position at the door, trident in hand,

kept off the witches. Next morning, Bhútisiva, having conquered them,

gave me food, and said to me, "Bráhman, I shall not be able to protect

you any longer; but in a village named Sandhyávása, at a distance

of ten yojanas from this place, there is a Bráhman named Vasumati:

go to him: and if you manage to get through this third night, you

will escape altogether."

When he said this to me, I bowed before him, and set out from that

place. But on account of the length of the journey that I had to make,

the sun set before I had reached my destination. And when night had

set in, the witches pursued after me and caught me. And they seized me

and went off with me through the air much pleased. But thereupon some

other witches of great power flew past them in front. And suddenly

there arose between the two parties a tumultuous fight. And in the

confusion I escaped from the hands of my captors, and fell to the

ground in a very desolate part of the country. [554]

And there I saw a certain great palace, which seemed to say to me with

its open door, "Come in." So I fled into it bewildered with fear,

and I beheld a lady of wonderful beauty, surrounded with a hundred

ladies-in-waiting, gleaming with brightness, like a protecting herb

[555] that shines in the night, made by the Creator out of pity for

me. I immediately recovered my spirits and questioned her, and she

said to me, "I am a Yakshiní named Sumitrá, and I am thus here owing

to a curse. And in order that my curse may come to an end, I have been

directed to marry a mortal: so marry me, as you have unexpectedly

arrived here; fear not." When she had said this, she quickly gave

orders to her servants; and she provided me, to my great delight,

with baths and unguents, food and drink, and garments. Strange was the

contrast between the terror caused by those witches and the happiness

that immediately followed! Even fate itself cannot comprehend the

principle that makes men fall into happiness or misery.

Then I remained there in happiness with that Yakshiní during those

days; but at last one day she said to me of her own accord, "Bráhman,

my curse is at an end; so I must leave this place at once. However,

by my favour you shall have divine insight; and, though an ascetic, you

shall have all enjoyments at your command, and be free from fear. But

as long as you are here, do not visit the middle block of buildings

of this palace of mine." When she had said this, she disappeared;

and thereupon, I, out of curiosity, went up to the middle block of

buildings, and there I saw a horse. I went up to the horse, and he

flung me from him with a kick; and immediately I found myself in this

temple of Siva. [556]

Since that time I have remained here, and I have gradually acquired

supernatural powers. Accordingly, though I am a mortal, I possess

knowledge of the three times. In the same way do all men in this world

find successes beset with difficulties. So do you remain in this place;

Siva will bestow on you the success that you desire.

When that wise being had told me all this, I conceived hopes of

recovering you, and I remained there some days in his hermitage. And

to-day, my lord, Siva in a dream informed me of your success, and

some heavenly nymph seized me up, and brought me here. This is the

history of my adventures.

When Gomukha had said this, he stopped, and then Marubhúti began to

tell his tale in the presence of Naraváhanadatta.

Marubhúti's account of his adventures.

When I was flung away on that occasion by Mánasavega, some divinity

took me up in her hands, and placing me in a distant forest,

disappeared. Then I wandered about afflicted and anxious to obtain

some means of committing suicide, when I saw a certain hermitage

encircled with a river. I entered it, and beheld an ascetic with

matted hair sitting on a slab of rock, and I bowed before him and

went up to him. He said to me, "Who are you, and how did you reach

this uninhabited land?" Thereupon, I told him my whole story. Then

he understood and said to me, "Do not slay yourself now! You shall

learn here the truth about your master, and afterwards you shall do

what is fitting."

In accordance with this advice of his I remained there, eager for

tidings of you, my liege: and while I was there, some heavenly nymphs

came to bathe in the river. Then the hermit said to me, "Go quickly

and carry off the clothes of one of those nymphs bathing there; [557]

and then you will learn tidings of your master." When I heard that,

I did as he advised me, and that nymph, whose garments I had taken,

followed me, with her bathing-dress dripping with moisture, [558]

and with her arms crossed in front of her breasts.

That hermit said to her, "If you tell us tidings of Naraváhanadatta,

you may have back your two garments." Then she said, "Naraváhanadatta

is at present on mount Kailása, engaged in worshipping Siva, and in

a few days he will be the emperor of the Vidyádharas."

After she had said this, that heavenly nymph became, in virtue of a

curse, the wife of that ascetic, having made acquaintance with him by

conversing with him. [559] So the ascetic lived with that Vidyádharí,

and on account of her prophecy I conceived the hope of being reunited

with you and I went on living there. And in a few days the heavenly

nymph became pregnant, and brought forth a child, and she said to the

ascetic, "My curse has been brought to an end by living with you. [560]

If you desire to see any more of me, cook this child of mine with rice

and eat it; then you will be reunited to me." When she had said this,

she went away, and that ascetic cooked her child with rice, and ate

it: and then he flew up into the air and followed her.

At first I was unwilling to eat of that dish, though he urged me to

do so; but seeing that eating of it bestowed supernatural powers, I

took two grains of rice from the cooking-vessel, and ate them. That

produced in me the effect that wherever I spat, gold [561] was

immediately produced. Then I roamed about relieved from my poverty,

and at last I reached a town. There I lived in the house of a hetæra,

and, thanks to the gold I was able to produce, indulged in the most

lavish expenditure; but the kuttaní, eager to discover my secret,

treacherously gave me an emetic. That made me vomit, and in the process

the two grains of rice, that I had previously eaten, came out of my

mouth, looking like two glittering rubies. And no sooner had they

come out, than the kuttaní snapped them up, and swallowed them. So I

lost my power of producing gold, of which the kuttaní thus deprived me.

I thought to myself, "Siva still retains his crescent and Vishnu his

kaustubha jewel; but I know what would be the result, if those two

deities were to fall into the clutches of a kuttaní. [562] But such

is this world, full of marvels, full of frauds; who can fathom it,

or the sea, at any time?" With such sad reflections in my bosom I

went despondent to a temple of Durgá, to propitiate the goddess with

asceticism, in order to recover you. And after I had fasted for three

nights, the goddess gave me this command in a dream, "Thy master has

obtained all he desires: go, and behold him;" upon hearing this I

woke up; and this very morning some goddess carried me to your feet;

this, prince, is the story of my adventures.

When Marubhúti had said this, Naraváhanadatta and his courtiers

laughed at him for having been tricked by a kuttaní.

Harisikha's account of his adventures.

Then Harisikha said;--On that occasion when I was seized by my enemy,

some divinity saved me and deposited me in Ujjayiní. There I was so

unhappy that I conceived the design of abandoning the body; so at

nightfall I went into the cemetery and proceeded to construct a pyre

with the logs there. I lighted it and began to worship the fire, and

while I was thus engaged, a prince of the demons, named Tálajangha,

came up to me, and said to me, "Why do you enter the fire? Your master

is alive, and you shall be united with him, now that he has obtained

the supernatural powers he desired." With these words, the demon,

though naturally cruel, lovingly dissuaded me from death; even some

stones melt when fate is propitious. Then I went and remained for a

long time performing asceticism in front of the god; and some divinity

has to-day brought me to your side, my liege.

Thus Harisikha told his tale, and the others in their turn told theirs,

and then, at the suggestion of Amitagati, king Naraváhanadatta incited

the venerable Dhanavatí, adored by the Vidyádharas, to bestow all the

sciences on those ministers of his also. Then all his ministers also

became Vidyádharas; and Dhanavatí said, "Now conquer your enemies;"

so on a fortunate day the hero gave orders that the imperial troops

should march out towards the city of Gaurímunda, called Govindakúta.

Then the army of the Vidyádharas mounted up into the sky, obscuring

the sun, looking like a rising of Ráhu out of due time chilling to

the foe. And Naraváhanadatta himself ascended the pericarp of the

lotus-chariot, and placed his wives on the filaments, and his friends

on the leaves, and preceded by Chandasinha and the others, set out

through the air to conquer his enemies. And when he had completed

half his journey, he came to the palace of Dhanavatí which was called

Mátangapura, and he stayed there that day, and she did the honours

of the house to him. And while he was there, he sent an ambassador

to challenge to the combat the Vidyádhara princes Gaurímunda and

Mánasavega.

The next day he deposited his wives in Mátangapura, and went with the

Vidyádhara kings to Govindakúta. There Gaurímunda and Mánasavega came

out to fight with them, and Chandasinha and his colleagues met them

face to face. When the battle began, brave warriors fell like trees

marked out for the axe, and torrents of blood flowed on the mountain

Govindakúta. The combat, eager to devour the lives of heroes, yawned

like a demon of destruction, with tongues in the form of flexible

swords greedily licking up blood. [563] That great feast of slaughter,

terrible with the rhythmic clapping of hands on the part of Vetálas

drunk with blood and flesh, and covered with palpitating corpses for

dancers, gave great delight to the demons.

Then Mánasavega met Naraváhanadatta face to face in the conflict,

and the prince himself rushed on him in wrath. And having rushed on

him, that emperor seized the villain by the hair, and at once cut

off his head with his sword. When Gaurímunda saw that, he too sprang

forward in a fury, and Naraváhanadatta dragged him along by the hair,

for the power of his science left him as soon as he saw the prince,

and flung him on the ground, and seizing his legs whirled him round

in the air, and dashed him to pieces on a rock. In this way he slew

Gaurímunda and Mánasavega; and the rest of their army, being terrified,

[564] took to flight. And a rain of flowers fell into the lap of that

emperor, and all the gods in heaven exclaimed, "Bravo! Bravo!" Then

Naraváhanadatta, with all those kings that followed him, entered the

palace of Gaurímunda; and immediately the chiefs of the Vidyádharas,

who were connected with Gaurímunda's party, came and submitted humbly

to his sway.

Then Dhanavatí came up to that sovereign in the midst of the rejoicings

on account of his having taken possession of his kingdom after slaying

all his enemies, and said to him, "My liege, Gaurímunda has left a

daughter named Ihátmatiká, the belle of the three worlds; you should

marry that maiden." When she said this to the king, he immediately

sent for the girl, and married her, and passed the day very happily

in her society.

The next morning he sent Vegavatí and Prabhávatí, and had

Madanamanchuká brought by them from the town of Mánasavega. When

brought, she looked upon that hero in his prosperity, who had

destroyed the darkness of his enemies, with face expanded and wet with

tears of joy; and at the end of her night of separation she enjoyed

indescribable happiness, like a lotus-bed, the open flowers of which

are wet with dew. Then he bestowed on her all the sciences, and having

pined for her long, he exulted in the society of his beloved, who had

thus in a moment attained the rank of a Vidyádharí. And in the garden

of Gaurímunda's city he spent those days with his wives in the joys

of a banquet. And then he sent Prabhávatí, and had Bhagírathayasas

also brought there, and bestowed on her the sciences.

And one day, as the emperor was sitting in his hall of audience, two

Vidyádharas came and said to him with due respect, "Your majesty, we

went hence, by the orders of Dhanavatí, to the northern division of the

land of the Vidyádharas, to find out the movements of Mandaradeva. And

there we, being ourselves invisible, saw that king of the Vidyádharas

in his hall of audience, and he happened to be saying with regard

to your Highness, 'I hear, that Naraváhanadatta has obtained the

sovereignty over the Vidyádharas, and has slain Gaurímunda and the

rest of his opponents; so it will not do for me to overlook that enemy;

on the contrary, I must nip him in the bud.' When we heard that speech

of his, we came here to tell you."

When the assembly of Naraváhanadatta's partizans heard this from the

spies, they were all beside themselves with anger, and appeared like

a lotus-bed smitten by the wind. The arms of Chitrángada, frequently

waved and extended, seemed with the tinkling of their bracelets

to be demanding the signal for combat. The necklace of Amitagati,

rising up on his breast, as he sighed with anger, seemed to say again

and again, "Rouse thyself, rouse thyself, hero." Pingalagándhára,

striking the ground with his hand so that it resounded, seemed to be

going through a prelude introductory to the crushing of his enemies. A

frown took its seat upon the face of Váyupatha, looking like a bow

strung by Fate for the destruction of his foes. Chandasinha, angrily

pressing one hand against the other, seemed to say, "Even thus will

I pulverize my enemies." The arm of Ságaradatta, struck by his hand,

produced a sound that rang through the air, and seemed to challenge

that foe. But Naraváhanadatta, though angry, was no whit disturbed;

for imperturbability is the characteristic sign of the greatness of

great ones.

Then he resolved to march forth to conquer his enemy, after obtaining

the jewels essential to an emperor of the Vidyádharas. So the emperor

mounted a chariot, with his wives and his ministers, and set out

from that Govindakúta. And all his partizans, the kings of the

Gandharvas and the chiefs of the Vidyádharas, accompanied by their

armies, marched along with him, encircling him, as the planets do

the moon. Then Naraváhanadatta reached the Himálayas, preceded by

Dhanavatí, and found there a large lake. With its white lotuses like

lofty umbrellas and its soaring swans like waving chowries, it seemed

to have brought a present fit for a sovereign. With its lofty waves

flung up towards him like beckoning hands at no great distance, it

seemed to summon him again and again to take the bath which should

ensure him supreme sovereignty. Then Váyupatha said to the king,

"My emperor, you must go down and bathe in this lake;" so he went

down to bathe in it. And a heavenly voice said, "None but an emperor

can ever succeed in bathing in this lake, so now you may consider

the imperial dignity secured to you."

When the emperor heard that, he was delighted, and he sported in the

water of that lake with his wives, as Varuna does in the sea. He took

pleasure in watching them with the moist garments clinging to their

bodies, with the fastenings of their hair loosened, and their eyes

reddened by the washing into them of antimony. The rows of birds,

flying up with loud cries from that lake, appeared like the girdles

of its presiding nymphs advancing to meet him. And the lotuses,

eclipsed by the beauty of the lotus-like faces of his wives, plunged

beneath the waves as if ashamed. And after bathing, Naraváhanadatta,

with his attendants, spent that day on the bank of that lake.

There the successful prince, with his wives and ministers, spent his

time in jocose conversation, and next morning he set forth thence in

his chariot with his army. And as he was going along, he reached the

city of Váyupatha, which lay in his way; and he stayed there a day to

please him. There he fell in love with a maiden, that he came across

in a garden, the sister of Váyupatha, by name Váyuvegayasas. She,

while amusing herself in a garden on the bank of the Hemabáluka [565]

river, saw him arrive, and though in love with him, disappeared at

once. Then Naraváhanadatta, supposing that she had turned her back on

him for some reason other than the real one, returned with downcast

face to his quarters. There the queens found out the adventure that

had befallen the king by means of Marubhúti who was with him, (for

Gomukha was too clever for them to try him,) and then they made all

kinds of jokes at the king's expense, while Gomukha stood by ashamed

at the indiscretion of Marubhúti.

Then Gomukha, seeing the king out of countenance, consoled him, and,

in order to ascertain the real sentiments of Váyuvegayasas, went to

her city. There Váyupatha saw him suddenly arrived as if to take a

look at the city, and he lovingly entertained him, and taking him

aside, said to him, "I have an unmarried sister named Váyuvegayasas,

and holy seers have prophesied that she is destined to be the wife of

an emperor. So I am desirous of giving her as a present to the emperor

Naraváhanadatta; pray do your best to bring about the accomplishment of

my wish. And with this very object in view I was preparing to come to

you." When the minister Gomukha had been thus addressed by Váyupatha,

he said to him; "Although this prince of ours set out primarily with

the object of conquering his enemies, still you have only to make the

request, and I will arrange this matter for you." With these words

Gomukha took leave of him, and going back informed Naraváhanadatta

that he had gained his object without any solicitation.

And the next day Váyupatha came in person and requested the favour,

and the sagacious Gomukha said to the king, "My prince, you must not

refuse the request of Váyupatha; he is your faithful ally; your majesty

should do whatever he asks." Then the king consented to do it; and

Váyupatha himself brought his younger sister, and bestowed her on the

emperor against her will. And while the marriage was being performed,

she exclaimed, "Ye guardians of the world, I am being bestowed in

marriage by my brother by force, and against my will, so I have

not committed any sin thereby." When she said this, all the females

belonging to Váyupatha's household made such a noise that no outsiders

heard what she said. But the king was put out of countenance by her

speech, so Gomukha was anxious to find some means of ascertaining

its import, and he roamed hither and thither with that object.

And after he had roamed about awhile, he saw in a certain retired

spot four Vidyádhara maidens preparing to enter the fire at the same

time. And when he asked them the cause, those fair ones told him how

Váyuvegayasas had broken her solemn agreement. Then Gomukha went

and told it to king Naraváhanadatta in the presence of all there,

exactly as he had seen and heard. When the king heard it, he smiled,

but Váyuvegayasas said, "Arise, my husband, let us two quickly go and

save these maidens; afterwards I will tell you the reason of this act

of theirs." When she said this to the king, he went with her and with

all his followers to the spot where the tragedy was to take place.

And he saw those maidens with a blazing fire in front of them; and

Váyuvegayasas, after dragging them away from it, said to the king,

"This first here is Káliká, the daughter of the lord of Kálakúta, and

this second is Vidyutpunjá, the daughter of Vidyutpunja; and this third

is Matanginí, the daughter of Mandara; and this fourth is Padmaprabhá

the daughter of Mahádanshtra; and I am the fifth; all we five, when

we saw you performing asceticism in the domain of the Siddhas, were

bewildered with love, and we made the following mutual agreement,

'We will all five [566] at the same time take this prince as our dear

husband, and no one of us must surrender herself to him alone; if any

one of us marries him separately, the others shall enter the fire to

bring down vengeance on her who has been guilty of such treachery

to friends.' It was out of respect for this agreement that I did

not wish to marry you separately; indeed I did not even to-day give

myself to you; you, my husband, and the guardians of the world can

bear testimony as to whether even now I have broken this agreement

willingly. So now, my husband, marry also those friends of mine;

and you, my friends, must not let any other lot befall you." [567]

When she said this, those maidens, who had escaped from death, rejoiced

and embraced one another; and the king was delighted in his heart. And

the fathers of the ladies, hearing what had taken place, came there

immediately, and bestowed their daughters on Naraváhanadatta. And

those chiefs of the Vidyádharas, headed by the lord of Kálakúta,

[568] agreed to accept the sovereignty of their son-in-law. Thus

Naraváhanadatta obtained at one stroke the daughters of five great

Vidyádharas, and gained great importance thereby.

And the prince remained there some days with those wives, and then

his Commander-in-Chief Harisikha said, "Why, my liege, though you are

versed in the approved treatises on the subject, do you act contrary to

policy? What means this devotion on your part to the pleasures of love,

when it is time to fight? This raising of an expedition to conquer

Mandaradeva, and this your dallying for so many days with your wives,

are things wholly incompatible." When Harisikha said this, the great

king answered him, "Your reproof is just, but I am not acting for my

own pleasure in all this; this allying of myself with wives involves

the acquisition of friends; and is so the most efficacious method

at present of crushing the foe; this is why I have had recourse to

it. So let these my troops now advance to the conquest of the enemy!"

When the king had given this order, his father-in-law Mandara said to

him, "King, that Mandaradeva lives in a distant and difficult country,

and he will be hard for you to overcome until you have achieved all

the distinctive jewels of an emperor. For he is protected by the cave,

called the cave of Trisírsha, [569] which forms the approach to his

kingdom, and the entrance of which is guarded by the great champion

Devamáya. But that cave can be forced by an emperor who has obtained

the jewels. And the sandal-wood tree, which is one of the jewels of

an emperor, is in this country, so quickly gain possession of it,

in order that you may attain the ends you have in view. For no one

who is not an emperor ever gets near that tree."

Having heard this from Mandara, Naraváhanadatta set out at night,

fasting and observing a strict vow, for that sandal-wood tree. As

the hero went along, very terrible portents arose to bewilder him,

but he was not terrified at them, and so he reached the foot of that

mighty tree. And when he saw that sandal-wood tree surrounded with

a lofty platform made of precious jewels, he climbed up to it with

ladders and adored it. The tree then said to him with bodiless voice,

"Emperor, thou hast won me the sandal-wood tree, and when thou thinkest

on me, I will appear to thee, so leave this place at present, and go to

Govindakúta; thus thou wilt win the other jewels also; and then thou

wilt easily conquer Mandaradeva." On hearing this, Naraváhanadatta,

the mighty sovereign of the Vidyádharas, said, "I will do so," and

being now completely successful, he worshipped that heavenly tree,

[570] and went delighted through the air to his own camp.

There he spent that night; and the next morning in the hall of

audience he related at full length, in the presence of all, his

night's adventure by which he had won the sandal-wood tree. And when

they heard it, his wives, and the ministers who had grown up with him

from infancy, and those Vidyádharas who were devoted to him, namely,

Váyupatha and the other chiefs with their forces, and the Gandharvas,

headed by Chitrángada, were delighted at this sudden attainment of

great success, and praised his heroism remarkable for its uninterrupted

flow of courage, enterprise, and firmness. And after deliberating with

them, the king, determined to overthrow the pride of Mandaradeva,

set out in a heavenly chariot for the mountain of Govindakúta, in

order to obtain the other jewels spoken of by the sandal-wood tree.

BOOK XV.

CHAPTER CIX.

May Ganesa, who at night seems with the spray blown forth from his

hissing trunk uplifted in the tumultuous dance, to be feeding the

stars, dispel your darkness!

Then, as the emperor Naraváhanadatta was in his hall of audience on

the mountain Govindakúta, a Vidyádhara named Amritaprabha came to him

through the air, the same who had before saved him, when he was flung

down by his enemy on the Mountain of Fire. That Vidyádhara came and

humbly made himself known, and having been lovingly entertained by

that emperor, said to him, "There is a great mountain named Malaya in

the southern region; and in a hermitage on it lives a great hermit

named Vámadeva. He, my liege, invites you to come to him alone for

the sake of some important affair, and on this account he has sent me

to you to-day. Moreover you are my sovereign, won by previous merits;

and therefore have I come; so come along with me; let us quickly go

to that hermit in order to ensure your success!"

When that Vidyádhara had said this, Naraváhanadatta left his wives and

forces there, and himself flew up into the air with that Vidyádhara,

and in that way quickly reached the Malaya mountain, and approached

the hermit Vámadeva. And he beheld that hermit white with age, tall of

stature, with eye-balls sparkling like bright jewels in the fleshless

sockets of his eyes, the depository of the jewels of the emperor of

the Vidyádharas, with his matted hair waving like creepers, looking

like the Himálaya range accompanying the prince, to assist him in

attaining success. Then the prince worshipped the feet of that sage,

and he entertained him, and said to him, "You are the god of Love

consumed long ago by Siva, and appointed by him emperor of all the

Vidyádhara chiefs, because he was pleased with Rati. [571] Now, I

have in this my hermitage, within the deep recess of an inner cave,

certain jewels, which I will point out to you, and you must seize

them. For you will find Mandaradeva easy enough to conquer, after you

have obtained the jewels; and it was with this object that I invited

you hither by the command of Siva."

When the hermit had said this to him, and had instructed him in the

right method of procedure, Naraváhanadatta joyfully entered that

cave. In it the hero overcame many and various obstacles, and then

he beheld a huge furious elephant charging him with a deep guttural

roar. The king smote it on the forehead with his fist, and placed his

feet on its tusks, and actively mounted that furious elephant. And

a bodiless voice came from the cave, "Bravo, emperor! thou hast won

the jewel of the mighty elephant." Then he saw a sword looking like

a mighty snake, and he fell upon it, and seized it, as if it were

the locks of the Fortune of Empire. Again a bodiless voice sounded

in the cave, "Bravo, conqueror of thy foes! thou hast obtained the

victorious sword-jewel." Then he obtained the moonlight-jewel and the

wife-jewel, and the jewel of charms, named the destroying charm. And

thus having achieved in all seven jewels (useful in time of need, and

bestowers of majesty), taking into account the two first, the lake and

the sandal-wood tree, he went out from that cave and told the hermit

Vámadeva that he had succeeded in accomplishing all his objects. [572]

Then the hermit said lovingly to that emperor, "Go, my son, now

that you have obtained the jewels of a great emperor, and conquer

Mandaradeva on the north side of Kailása, and enjoy the glorious

fortune of the sovereignty of both sides of that mountain." When the

hermit had said this to him, the successful emperor bowed before him,

and went off through the air with Amritaprabha. And in a moment he

reached his camp on Govindakúta guarded by his mighty mother-in-law

Dhanavatí. Then those kings of the Vidyádharas, that had sided

with him, and his wives and his ministers, who were all watching

for him, saw him, and welcomed him with delight. Then he sat down

and they questioned him, and he told them how he had seen the hermit

Vámadeva, and how he had entered the cave, and how he had obtained the

jewels. Then a great festival took place there, in which celestial

drums were joyfully beaten, and the Vidyádharas danced, and people

generally were drunk with wine.

And the next day, in a moment in which a malignant planet stood in

the house of his foe, and one which argued his own success [573] as

a planet benignant to him, predominated over his enemy's house, and

which was fraught with every other kind of prosperity, Naraváhanadatta

performed the ceremonies for good fortune, and ascended that car made

by Brahmá, which Siva had bestowed on him, and set out with his army

through the air, accompanied by his wives, to conquer Mandaradeva. And

various heroes, his followers, marched surrounding him, and kings of

the Gandharvas and chiefs of the Vidyádharas, fearless and faithful,

obedient to the orders of the general Harisikha, and Chandasinha,

with his mother the wise Dhanavatí, and the brave Pingalagándhára,

and Váyupatha the strong, and Vidyutpunja and Amitagati, and the

lord of Kálakúta, and Mandara, and Mahádanshtra and his own friend

Amritaprabha, and the hero Chitrángada with Ságaradatta,--all these,

and others who were there of the party of the slain Gaurímunda,

pressed eagerly after him, with their hosts, as he advanced intent

on victory. Then the sky was obscured by his army, and the sun hid

his face, as if for shame, somewhere or other, his brightness being

eclipsed by the splendour of the monarch.

Then the emperor passed the Mánasa lake haunted by troops of divine

hermits, and left behind him Gandasáila the pleasure-garden of the

nymphs of heaven, and reached the foot of mount Kailása gleaming

white like crystal, resembling a mass of his own glory. [574] There he

encamped on the bank of the Mandákiní, and while he was sitting there,

the wise chief of the Vidyádharas, named Mandara, came up to him, and

addressed to him the following pleasing speech, "Let your army halt

here, king, on the bank of the river of the gods! It is not fitting

that you should advance over this mountain Kailása. For all sciences

are destroyed by crossing this dwelling-place of Siva. So you must

pass to the other side of the mountain by the cave of Trisírsha. And

it is guarded by a king named Devamáya, who is exceedingly haughty;

so how can you advance further without conquering him?" When Mandara

said this, Dhanavatí approved it, and Naraváhanadatta waited there

for a day.

While he was there, he sent an ambassador to Devamáya with

a conciliatory message, but he did not receive the order it

conveyed in a conciliatory spirit. So the next day the emperor

moved out against Devamáya with all the allied kings prepared for

battle. And Devamáya too, when he heard it, marched out towards him

to give battle, accompanied by numerous kings, Varáha, Vajramushti

and others, and followed by his army. Then there took place on

Kailása a battle between those two armies, and while it was going

on, the sky was obscured by the chariots of the gods who came to

look on. Terrible was that thunder-cloud of war, awful with the

dense hailstorm of many severed heads, and loud with the shouting

of heroes. That Chandasinha slew Varáha the general of Devamáya,

as he fought in the front rank, was in truth by no means wonderful;

but it was strange that Naraváhanadatta, without employing any magic

power, took captive Devamáya himself, when exhausted by the wounds he

received from him in the combat. And when he was captured, his army

was broken, and fled, together with the great champions Vajramushti,

Mahábáhu, Tikshnadanshtra and their fellows. Then the gods in their

chariots exclaimed, "Bravo! Bravo!" and all present congratulated

the victorious emperor. Then that mighty monarch consoled Devamáya,

who was brought before him bound, and welcomed him kindly, and set

him at liberty. But he, having been subdued by the emperor's arm,

humbly submitted to him, together with Vajramushti and the others.

Then, the battle having come to an end, that day passed away, and next

morning Devamáya came to the place of audience, and stood by the side

of the emperor, and when questioned by him about the cave of Trisírsha,

which he wished to enter, related the following true history of it.

History of the cave of Trisírsha.

In old time, my liege, the two sides of mount Kailása, the north and

the south side, formed different kingdoms, having been assigned to

distinguished Vidyádharas. Then one, Rishabha by name, propitiated

Siva with austerities, and was appointed by that god emperor over

both of them. But one day he was passing over Kailása to go to the

northern side, and lost his magic science owing to the anger of Siva,

who happened to be below, and so fell from the sky. Rishabha again

propitiated Siva with severe asceticism, and the god again appointed

him Supreme Sovereign of both sides; so he thus humbly addressed the

god, "I am not permitted to pass over Kailása, so by what path am I

to travel in order to be able to exercise my prerogatives on both

sides of the mountain?" When Siva, the trident-bearing god, heard

this, he cleft asunder Kailása, and made this cave-like opening for

Rishabha to pass to the northern side.

Then mount Kailása, having been pierced, was despondent, and addressed

this petition to Siva, "Holy one, this north side of me used to

be inaccessible to mortals, but it has now been made accessible to

them by this cave-passage; so provide that this law of exclusion be

not broken." When Siva had been thus supplicated by the mountain,

he placed in the cave as guards, elephants of the quarters, mighty

basilisks, [575] and Guhyakas; and at its southern opening he placed

Mahámáya the Vidyádhara chief, and at its northern opening Kálarátri

the invincible Chandiká. [576]

When Siva had thus provided for the guarding of the cave, he produced

great jewels, and made this decree with regard to the cave, "This cave

shall be open at both ends to any one who has obtained the jewels, and

is emperor over the Vidyádharas with their wives and their messengers,

[577] and to those who may be appointed by him as sovereigns over the

northern side of the mountain,--by these, I say, it may be passed,

but by no one else in the world." When the three-eyed god had made

this decree, Risbabha went on holding sway over the Vidyádharas,

but in his pride made war on the gods and was slain by Indra. This

is the history, my liege, of the cave, named the cave of Trisírsha;

and the cave cannot be passed by any but persons like yourself.

And in course of time I Devamáya was born in the family of Mahámáya

the keeper of the entrance of the cave. And at my birth a heavenly

voice proclaimed, "There is now born among the Vidyádharas a champion

hard for his foes to conquer in fight; and he, who shall conquer him,

shall be emperor over them; he shall be the master of this child now

born, and shall be followed by him as a lord." I, that Devamáya,

have been now conquered by you, and you have obtained the jewels,

and are the mighty sole emperor of both sides of mount Kailása,--the

lord of us all here. So, now pass the cave of Trisírsha, and conquer

the rest of your enemies.

When Devamáya had told the story of the cave in these words, the

emperor said to him, "We will march now and encamp for the present at

the mouth of the cave, and to-morrow morning, after we have performed

due ceremonies, we will enter it." When Naraváhanadatta had said this,

he went and encamped with all those kings at the mouth of the cave. And

he saw that underground passage with deep rayless cavity, looking like

the birthplace of the sunless and moonless darkness of the day of doom.

And the next day he offered worship, and entered it in his chariot,

with his followers, assisted by the glorious jewels, which presented

themselves to him, when he thought of them. He dispelled the darkness

with the moonlight jewel, the basilisks with the sandal-wood tree,

the elephants of the quarters with the elephant-jewel, the Guhyakas

with the sword-jewel, and other obstacles with other jewels; and

so passed that cave with his army, and emerged at its northern

mouth. And coming out from the bowels of the cave, he saw before

him the northern side of the mountain, looking like another world,

entered without a second birth. And then a voice came from the sky,

"Bravo, emperor! thou hast passed this cave by means of the majesty

conferred by the power of the jewels."

Then Dhanavatí and Devamáya said to the emperor, "Your Majesty,

Kálarátri is always near this opening. She was originally created

by Vishnu, when the sea was churned for the nectar, in order that

she might tear in pieces the chiefs of the Dánavas, who wished to

steal that heavenly drink. And now she has been placed here by Siva

to guard this cave, in order that none may pass it, except those

beings like yourself, of whom we spoke before. You are our emperor,

and you have obtained the jewels, and have passed this cave; so,

in order to gain the victory, you must worship this goddess, who is

a meet object of worship."

In such words did Dhanavatí and Devamáya address Naraváhanadatta,

and so the day waned for him there. And the northern peaks of Kailása

were reddened with the evening light, and seemed thus to foreshadow

the bloodshed of the approaching battle. The darkness, having gained

power, obscured the army of that king, as if recollecting its animosity

against him for his recent victory over it in its home the cave;

an animosity which was still fresh and new. And goblins, vampires,

jackals, and the sisterhood [578] of witches roamed about, as it were

the first shoots of the anger of Kálarátri enraged on account of

Naraváhanadatta having omitted to worship her. And in a moment the

whole army of Naraváhanadatta became insensible, as if with sleep,

but he alone remained in full possession of his faculties. Then the

emperor perceived that this was a display of power on the part of

Kálarátri, angry because she had not been worshipped, and be proceeded

to worship her with flowers of speech.

"Thou art the power of life, animating all creatures, of loving

nature, skilful in directing the discus to the head of thy foes;

thee I adore. Hail! thou, that under the form of Durgá dost console

the world with thy trident and other weapons streaming with the

drops of blood flowing from the throat of the slain Mahisha. Thou

art victorious dancing with a skull full of the blood of Ruru in thy

agitated hand, as if thou wast holding the vessel of security of the

three worlds. Goddess beloved of Siva, with uplifted eyes, though

thy name means the night of doom, still, with skull surmounted by a

burning candle, and with a skull in thy hand, thou dost shine as if

with the sun and moon."

Though he praised Kálarátri in these words, she was not propitiated,

and then he made up his mind to appease her by the sacrifice of

his head; and he drew his sword for that purpose. Then the goddess

said to him, "Do not act rashly my son. Lo! I have been won over by

thee, thou hero. Let this thy army be as it was before, and be thou

victorious!" And immediately his army awoke as it were from sleep. Then

his wives, and his companions, and all the Vidyádharas praised the

might of that emperor. And the hero, having eaten and drunk and

performed the necessary duties, spent that night, which seemed as

long as if it consisted of a hundred watches instead of three.

And the next morning he worshipped Kálarátri, and marched thence to

engage Dhúmasikha, who had barred his further advance with an army

of Vidyádharas. Then the emperor had a fight with that king, who was

the principal champion of Mandaradeva, of such a desperate character,

that the air was full of swords, the earth covered with the heads of

warriors, and the only speech heard was the terrible cry of heroes

shouting, "Slay! slay!" Then the emperor took Dhúmasikha captive

in that battle by force, and afterwards treated him with deference;

and made him submit to his sway. And he quartered his army that night

in his city, and the host seemed like fuel consumed with fire, as it

had seen the extinction of Dhúmasikha's [579] pride.

And the next day, hearing from the scouts that Mandaradeva, having

found out what had taken place, was advancing to meet him in fight,

Naraváhanadatta marched out against him with the chiefs of the

Vidyádharas, determined to conquer him. And after he had gone

some distance, he beheld in front of him the army of Mandaradeva,

accompanied by many kings, attacking in order of battle. Then

Naraváhanadatta, with the allied kings at his side, drew up his forces

in an arrangement fitted to encounter the formation of his enemies,

and fell upon his army.

Then a battle took place between those two armies, which imitated

the disturbed flood of the ocean overflowing its banks at the day of

doom. On one side were fighting Chandasinha and other great champions,

and on the other Kánchanadanshtra and other mighty kings. And

the battle waxed sore, resembling the rising of the wind at the

day of doom, for it made the three worlds tremble, and shook the

mountains. Mount Kailása, red on one side with the blood of heroes,

as with saffron paint, and on the other of ashy whiteness, resembled

the husband of Gaurí. That great battle was truly the day of doom

for heroes, being grimly illuminated by innumerable orbs of the sun

arisen in flashing sword-blades. Such was the battle that even Nárada

and other heavenly beings, who came to gaze at it, were astonished,

though they had witnessed the fights between the gods and the Asuras.

In this fight, which was thus terrible, Kánchanadanshtra rushed on

Chandasinha, and smote him on the head with a formidable mace. When

Dhanavatí saw that her son had fallen under the stroke of the mace,

she cursed and paralysed both armies by means of her magic power. And

Naraváhanadatta on one side, in virtue of his imperial might, [580]

and on the other side, Mandaradeva were the only two that remained

conscious. Then even the gods in the air fled in all directions,

seeing that Dhanavatí, if angry, had power to destroy a world.

But Mandaradeva, seeing that the emperor Naraváhanadatta was left

alone, ran upon him with uplifted weapon. Naraváhanadatta, for his

part, descended from his chariot, and drawing the sword which was one

of his imperial jewels, quickly met him. Then Mandaradeva, wishing

to gain the victory by magic arts, assumed by his science the form

of a furious elephant maddened with passion. When Naraváhanadatta,

who was endowed with pre-eminent skill in magic, saw this, he assumed

by his supernatural power the form of a lion. Then Mandaradeva flung

off the body of an elephant, and Naraváhanadatta abandoned that of a

lion, and fought with him openly in his own shape. [581] Armed with

sabres, and skilled in every elaborate trick and attitude of fence,

they appeared like two actors skilled in gesticulation, engaged

in acting a pantomime. Then Naraváhanadatta by a dexterous sleight

forced from the grasp of Mandaradeva his sword the material symbol of

victory. And Mandaradeva, having been thus deprived of his sword, drew

his dagger, but the emperor quickly made him relinquish that in the

same way. Then Mandaradeva, being disarmed, began to wrestle with the

emperor, but he seized him by the ancles, and laid him on the earth.

And then the sovereign set his foot on his enemy's breast, and laying

hold of his hair, was preparing to cut off his head with his sword,

when the maiden Mandaradeví, the sister of Mandaradeva, rushed up to

him, and in order to prevent him, said, "When I saw you long ago in

the wood of ascetics, I marked you for my future husband, so do not, my

sovereign, kill this brother of mine, who is your brother-in-law." When

the resolute king had been thus addressed by that fair-eyed one,

he let go Mandaradeva, who was ashamed at having been conquered, and

said to him, "I set you at liberty; do not be ashamed on that account,

Vidyádhara chief; victory and defeat in war bestow themselves on heroes

with varying caprice." When the king said this, Mandaradeva answered

him, "Of what profit is my life to me, now that I have been saved in

war by a woman? So I will go to my father in the wood where he is,

and perform asceticism; you have been appointed emperor over both

divisions of our territory here. Indeed this occurrence was foretold

long ago to me by my father as sure to take place." When the proud

hero had said this, he repaired to his father in the grove of ascetics.

Then the gods, that were present in the air on that occasion,

exclaimed, "Bravo! great emperor, you have completely conquered your

enemies, and obtained sovereign sway." When Mandaradeva had gone,

Dhanavatí by her power restored her own son and both armies with him

to consciousness. So Naraváhanadatta's followers, ministers and all,

arose as it were from sleep, and finding out that the foe had been

conquered, congratulated Naraváhanadatta their victorious master. And

the kings of Mandaradeva's party, Kánchanadanshtra, Asokaka, Raktáksha,

Kálajihva and the others, submitted to the sway of Naraváhanadatta. And

Chandasinha, when he saw Kánchanadanshtra, remembered the blow of the

mace, which he received from him in fight, and was wroth with him,

brandishing his good sword firmly grasped in his strong hand. But

Dhanavatí said to him, "Enough of wrath, my beloved son! Who could

conquer you in the van of battle? But I myself produced that momentary

glamour, in order to prevent the destruction of both armies." With

these words she pacified her son and made him cease from wrath, and

she delighted the whole army and the emperor Naraváhanadatta [582]

by her magic skill. And Naraváhanadatta was exceedingly joyful, having

obtained the sovereignty of the north side of Kailása, the mountain of

Siva, a territory now free from the scourge of war, since the heroes,

who opposed him, had been conquered, or had submitted, or fled, and

that too with all his friends unharmed. Then shrill kettle-drums were

beaten for the great festival of his victory over his enemies, [583]

and the triumphant monarch, accompanied by his wives and ministers,

and girt with mighty kings, spent that day, which was honoured by the

splendid dances and songs of the Vidyádhara ladies, in drinking wine,

as it were the fiery valour of his enemies.

CHAPTER CX.

Then, the next day, the emperor Naraváhanadatta, with his army, left

that plateau of Kailása, and by the advice of king Kánchanadanshtra,

who shewed him the way, went to that city of Mandaradeva named

Vimala. And he reached that city, which was adorned with lofty ramparts

of gold, and looked like mount Sumeru come to adore Kailása, and

entering it, found that it resembled the sea in all but the presence

of water, being very deep, characterized by unfailing prosperity,

[584] and an inexhaustible mine of jewels.

And as the emperor was sitting in the hall of audience in that city

surrounded by Vidyádhara kings, an old woman of the royal harem

came and said to him, "Since Mandaradeva has gone to the forest,

having been conquered by you, his wives desire to enter the fire;

your Highness has now been informed and will decide upon the proper

course." When this had been announced, the emperor sent those kings

to them, and dissuaded them from suicide, and bestowed upon them

dwelling-houses and other gifts, treating them like sisters. By that

step he caused the whole race of the Vidyádhara chiefs to be bound

to him with bonds of affection.

And then the grateful monarch anointed Amitagati, who had been

designated beforehand by Siva, king over the realm of Mandaradeva,

since he was loyal and could be trusted not to fall away, and he

placed under him the princes who had followed Mandaradeva, namely,

Kánchanadanshtra and his fellows. And he diverted himself there in

splendid gardens for seven days, being caressed by the fortune of

the northern side of Kailása, as by a newly-married bride.

And then, though he had acquired the imperial authority over the

Vidyádhara kings of both divisions, he began to long for more. He

set out, though his ministers tried to dissuade him, to conquer the

inaccessible fields of Meru situated in the northern region, the

home of the gods. For high-spirited men, though abundantly loaded

with possessions, cannot rest without acquiring something still more

glorious, advancing like blazing forest-fires.

Then the hermit Nárada came and said to the king, "Prince, what

means this striving after things out of your reach, though you know

policy? For one who out of overweening self-confidence attempts

the impossible, is disgraced like Rávana, who, in his pride,

endeavoured to uproot Kailása. For even the sun and moon find Meru

hard to overstep; moreover, Siva has not bestowed on you the sway

over the gods, but the sway over the Vidyádharas. You have already

conquered the Himálayas, the home of the Vidyádharas, so what need

have you of Meru the home of the gods? Dismiss from your mind this

chimerical scheme. Moreover, if you desire good fortune, you must go

and visit the father of Mandaradeva, Akampana by name, in the forest,

where he is residing." When the hermit Nárada had said this, the

emperor consented to do as he directed, and so he took leave of him,

and returned whence he came.

And the politic emperor, having been advised by Nárada to relinquish

his enterprise, [585] and remembering the destruction of Rishabha, of

which he had heard from Devamáya, and having reflected over the matter

in his own mind, gave up the idea, and went to visit the kingly sage

Akampana in the grove of ascetics. And when he reached that ascetic

grove, it was crowded with great sages, engaged in contemplation,

sitting in the posture called padmásana, and so resembled the world

of Brahmá. There he saw that aged Akampana, wearing matted hair and

a deerskin, looking like a great tree resorted to by hermits. So he

went and worshipped the feet of that ascetic, and that royal sage

welcomed him and said to him, "You have done well, king, in coming

to this hermitage, for if you had passed on neglectful of it, these

hermits here would have cursed you."

While the royal sage was saying this to the emperor, Mandaradeva,

who was staying in that grove of ascetics, having taken the vows of a

hermit, came to his father, accompanied by his sister, the princess

Mandaradeví. And Naraváhanadatta, when he saw him, embraced him,

for it is fitting that truly brave men should show kindness to foes

when conquered and pacified.

Then the royal sage Akampana, seeing Mandaradeví come with her brother,

said to that emperor, "Here, king, is my daughter, Mandaradeví by name;

and a heavenly voice said that she should be the consort of an emperor;

so marry her, emperor, for I give her to you."

When the royal sage said this, his daughter said, "I have four

companions here, of like age, noble maidens; one is a maiden called

Kanakavatí, the daughter of Kánchanadanshtra; the second is the

daughter of Kálajihva, Kálavatí by name; the third is the offspring of

Dírghadanshtra named Srutá; the fourth is the daughter of the king of

Paundra, named Ambaraprabhá; and I am the fifth of those Vidyádhara

maidens. We five, when roaming about, saw previously in a grove of

ascetics this my destined husband, and setting our hearts on him,

we made an agreement together that we would all, at one and the same

time, take him for our husband, but that, if any single one married

him alone, the others should enter the fire, and lay the guilt at her

door. So it is not fitting that I should marry without those friends

of mine; for how could persons like myself commit the outrageous

crime of breaking plighted faith?"

When that self-possessed lady had said this, her father Akampana

summoned those four Vidyádhara chiefs, who were the fathers of the

four maidens, and told them exactly what had occurred, and they

immediately thought themselves very fortunate, and brought those

maidens their daughters. Then Naraváhanadatta married the five in

order, beginning with Mandaradeví. And he remained there with them

many days, worshipping the hermits three times a day, at dawn, noon,

and sunset, while his attendants held high festival.

And Akampana said to him, "King, you must now go to the Rishabha

mountain for the great ceremony of your coronation," and thereupon

Devamáya also said to him, "King, you must indeed do so, for the

emperors of old time, Rishabhaka and others, were anointed [586]

on that mountain." When Harisikha heard that, he spoke in favour of

Naraváhanadatta's being anointed emperor on the splendid mountain of

Mandara, which was near; but then a voice came from heaven, "King,

all former emperors went through the ceremony of their coronation

on the Rishabha mountain; do you also go there, for it is a holy

place." [587] When the heavenly voice said this, Naraváhanadatta bowed

before the hermits and Akampana, and set out thence for that mountain

on an auspicious day. And he reached that northern opening of the

cave of Trisírsha, with many great chiefs of the Vidyádharas headed by

Amitagati. There the emperor worshipped that Kálarátri, and entered the

cave by that opening, and came out by the southern opening. And after

he had come out with his forces, he rested, at Devamáya's request,

in his palace for that day, together with his attendants.

And while he was there, he reflected that Siva was near him on that

mountain of Kailása, and he went of his own accord, with Gomukha,

to visit the god. And when he reached his hermitage, he saw and

adored the cow Surabhi and the sacred bull, and approached Nandin

the door-keeper. And Nandin was pleased when the king circumambulated

him, and opened the door to him, and then he entered and beheld Siva

accompanied by Deví. The god diffused gladness afar by the streams

of rays from the moon on his crest, that seemed to dart hither and

thither as if conquered by the splendour of Gaurí's face. He was

playing with his beloved with dice, that, like eyes, were allowed at

will to pursue their objects independently,--that, though under his

command, were ever restlessly rolling. And when Naraváhanadatta saw

that giver of boons, and that goddess the daughter of the Mountain,

he fell at their feet, and circumambulated them three times. The

god said to him, "It is well, my son, that thou hast come hither;

for otherwise thou mightest have suffered loss. But now all thy magic

powers shall ever be unfailing. So go thou to the Rishabha mountain,

that holy place, and obtain there at once in fitting time thy great

inauguration." When the emperor had received this command from

the god, he hastened to obey it, exclaiming "I will do thy will,"

and bowed before him and his wife, and returned to that palace of

Devamáya. The queen Madanamanchuká playfully said to him on his return,

"Where have you been, my husband? You appear to be pleased. Have you

managed to pick up here another set of five maidens?" When she made

use of these playful taunts, the prince gladdened her by telling her

the real state of affairs, and remained with her in happiness.

And the next day, Naraváhanadatta, accompanied by a host of Gandharvas

and Vidyádharas, making, as it were, a second sun in the heavens

by his glorious presence, ascended his splendid car, with his wives

and his ministers, and made for the Rishabha mountain. And when he

reached that heavenly hill, the trees, like hermits, with their

creepers like matted hair waving in the wind, shed their flowers

before him by way of a respectful offering. And there various kings

of the Vidyádharas brought the preparations for the coronation on a

scale suited to the might of their master. And the Vidyádharas came

to his coronation from all quarters, with presents in their hands,

all loyal, terrified, vanquished or respectful.

Then the Vidyádharas said to him, "Tell us, king; who is to occupy

half your throne, and to be anointed as queen consort?" The king

answered, "The queen Madanamanchuká is to be anointed together with

me;" and this at once set the Vidyádharas thinking. Then a bodiless

voice came from the air, "Hearken, Vidyádharas! This Madanamanchuká

is not a mortal; for she is Rati become incarnate, in order to be

the wife of this your master, who is the god of Love. She was not

born to Madanavega by Kalingasená, but, being of superhuman origin,

was immediately substituted by the gods, who employed their deluding

power, for the infant to which Kalingasená gave birth. [588] But the

infant to which she gave birth, was named Ityaka, and remained at the

side of Madanavega, having been assigned to him by the Creator. So

this Madanamanchuká is worthy to share the throne of her husband, for

Siva long ago granted her this honour as a boon, having been pleased

with her asceticism." When the voice had said so much, it ceased,

and the Vidyádharas were pleased, and praised the queen Madanamanchuká.

Then, on an auspicious day, the great hermits sprinkled with water

from many sacred bathing-places, brought in pitchers of gold,

Naraváhanadatta seated on the imperial throne, while Madanamanchuká

occupied the left half of it. And during the ceremony Sántisoma the

domestic chaplain was busily occupied, and the assembled cymbals of

the heavenly nymphs resounded aloud, and the murmur made by Bráhmans

reciting prayers filled the ten points of the sky. Strange to say! when

the water, made more purifying by holy texts, fell on his head, the

secret defilement [589] of enmity was washed out from the minds of his

foes. The goddess of fortune seemed to accompany in visible presence

that water of consecration, under the impression that it came from

the sea, and so was a connexion of her own, and to join with it in

covering the body of that king. A series of flower-garlands flung by

the hands of the nymphs of heaven, falling on him, appeared like the

Ganges spontaneously descending on his body with a full stream. Adorned

with red unguent and valour, he appeared like the sun in the glory

of rising, washed in the water of the sea. [590]

And crowned with a garland of mandára flowers, resplendent with

glorious raiment and ornaments, having donned a heavenly diadem,

he wore the majesty of Indra. And queen Madanamanchuká, having been

also anointed, glittered with heavenly ornaments at his side, like

Sachí at the side of Indra.

And that day, though drums sounded like clouds, and flowers fell

from the sky like rain, and though it was full [591] of heavenly

nymphs like lightning gleams, was, strange to say, a fair one. On that

occasion, in the city of the chief of mountains, not only did beautiful

Vidyádhara ladies dance, but creepers shaken by the wind danced also;

and when cymbals were struck by minstrels at that great festival,

the mountain seemed to send forth responsive strains from its echoing

caves; and covered all over with Vidyádharas moving about intoxicated

with the liquor of heavenly cordials, it seemed to be itself reeling

with wine; and Indra, in his chariot, having beheld the splendour of

the coronation which has now been described, felt his pride in his

own altogether dashed.

Naraváhanadatta, having thus obtained his long-desired inauguration as

emperor, thought with yearning of his father. And having at once taken

counsel with Gomukha and his other ministers, the monarch summoned

Váyupatha and said to him, "Go and say to my father, 'Naraváhanadatta

thinks of you with exceeding longing,' and tell him all that has

happened, and bring him here, and bring his queens and his ministers

too, addressing the same invitation to them." When Váyupatha heard

this, he said "I will do so," and made for Kausámbí through the air.

And he reached that city in a moment, beheld with fear and

astonishment by the citizens, as he was encircled by seventy million

Vidyádharas. And he had an interview with Udayana king of Vatsa, with

his ministers and wives, and the king received him with appropriate

courtesy. And the Vidyádhara prince sat down and asked the king

about his health, and said to him, while all present looked at him

with curiosity, "Your son Naraváhanadatta, having propitiated Siva,

and beheld him face to face, and having obtained from him sciences

difficult for his enemies to conquer, has slain Mánasavega and

Gaurímunda in the southern division of the Vidyádhara territory,

and conquered Mandaradeva who was lord in the northern division, and

has obtained [592] the high dignity of emperor over all the kings of

the Vidyádharas in both divisions, who acknowledge his authority; and

has now gone through his solemn coronation on the Rishabha mountain,

and is thinking, king, with eager yearning of you and your queens and

ministers. And I have been sent by him, so come at once; for fortunate

are those who live to see their offspring elevate their race."

When the king of Vatsa heard Váyupatha say this, being full of

longing for his son, he seemed like a peacock that rejoices when

it hears the roaring of the rain-clouds. So he accepted Váyupatha's

invitation, and immediately mounted a palanquin with him, and by the

might of his sciences travelled through the air, accompanied by his

wives and ministers, and reached that great heavenly mountain called

Rishabha. And there he saw his son on a heavenly throne, in the midst

of the Vidyádhara kings, accompanied by many wives; resembling the

moon reclining on the top of the eastern mountain, surrounded by the

planetary host, and attended by a company of many stars. To the king

the sight of his son in all this splendour was a shower of nectar,

and when he was bedewed with it, his heart swelled with joy, and he

closely resembled the sea when the moon rises.

Naraváhanadatta, for his part, beholding that father of his after a

long separation, rose up hurriedly and eager, and went to meet him

with his train. And then his father embraced him, and folded him to

his bosom, and he went through a second sprinkling, [593] being bathed

in a flood of his father's tears of joy. And the queen Vásavadattá

long embraced her son, and bathed him with the milk that flowed from

her breasts at beholding him, so that he remembered his childhood. And

Padmávatí, and Yaugandharáyana, and the rest of his father's ministers,

and his uncle Gopálaka, beholding him after a long interval, drank in

with thirsty eyes his ambrosial frame, like partridges; while the king

treated them with the honour which they deserved. And Kalingasená,

beholding her son-in-law and also her daughter, felt as if the whole

world was too narrow for her, much less could her own limbs contain her

swelling heart. And Yaugandharáyana and the other ministers, beholding

their sons, Harisikha and the others, on whom celestial powers had been

bestowed by the favour of their sovereign, congratulated them. [594]

And queen Madanamanchuká wearing heavenly ornaments, with Ratnaprabhá,

Alankáravatí, Lalitalochaná, Karpúriká, Saktiyasas and Bhagírathayasas,

and the sister of Ruchiradeva, who bore a heavenly form, and Vegavatí,

and Ajinávatí with Gandharvadattá, and Prabhávatí and Átmaniká and

Váyuvegayasas, and her four beautiful friends, headed by Káliká,

and those five other heavenly nymphs, of whom Mandaradeví was the

chief,--all these wives of the emperor Naraváhanadatta bowed before the

feet of their father-in-law the king of Vatsa, and also of Vásavadattá

and Padmávatí, and they in their delight loaded them with blessings,

as was fitting.

And when the king of Vatsa and his wives had occupied seats suited to

their dignity, Naraváhanadatta ascended his lofty throne. And the queen

Vásavadattá was delighted to see those various new daughters-in-law,

and asked their names and lineage. And the king of Vatsa and his

suite, beholding the godlike splendour of Naraváhanadatta, came to

the conclusion that they had not been born in vain.

And in the midst of this great rejoicing [595] at the reunion

of relations, the brave warder Ruchideva entered and said "The

banqueting-hall is ready, so be pleased to come there." When they

heard it, they all went to that splendid banqueting-hall. It was

full of goblets made of various jewels, which looked like so many

expanded lotuses, and strewn with many flowers, so that it resembled

a lotus-bed in a garden; and it was crowded with ladies with jugs full

of intoxicating liquor, who made it flash like the nectar appearing in

the arms of Garuda. There they drank wine that snaps those fetters of

shame that bind the ladies of the harem; wine, the essence of Love's

life, the ally of merriment. Their faces, expanded and red with wine,

shone like the lotuses in the lakes, expanded and red with the rays

of the rising sun. And the goblets of the rosy hue of the lotus,

finding themselves surpassed by the lips of the queens, and seeming

terrified at touching them, hid with their hue the wine.

Then the queens of Naraváhanadatta began to show signs of intoxication,

with their contracted eye-brows and fiery eyes, and the period of

quarrelling seemed to be setting in; [596] nevertheless they went

thence in order to the hall [597] of feasting, which was attractive

with its various viands provided by the power of magic. It was

strewed with coverlets, abounding in dishes, and hung with curtains

and screens, full of all kinds of delicacies and enjoyments, and it

looked like the dancing-ground of the goddesses of good fortune.

There they took their meal, and the sun having retired to rest

with the twilight on the western mountain, they reposed in sleeping

pavilions. And Naraváhanadatta, dividing himself by his science into

many forms, was present in the pavilions of all the queens. But in his

true personality he enjoyed the society of his beloved Madanamanchuká,

who resembled the night in being moon-faced, having eyes twinkling

like stars, and being full of revelry. And the king of Vatsa too, and

his train, spent that night in heavenly enjoyments, seeming as if they

had been born again without changing their bodies. And in the morning

all woke up, and delighted themselves in the same way with various

enjoyments in splendid gardens and pavilions produced by magic power.

Then, after they had spent many days in various amusements, the king of

Vatsa, wishing to return to his own city, went full of affection to his

son the king of all the Vidyádharas, who bowed humbly before him, and

said to him, "My son, who, that has sense, can help appreciating these

heavenly enjoyments? But the love of dwelling in one's mother-country

naturally draws every man; [598] so I mean to return to my own city;

but do you enjoy this fortune of Vidyádhara royalty, for these regions

suit you as being half god and half man. However, you must summon me

again some time, when a suitable occasion presents itself; for this

is the fruit of this birth of mine, that I behold this beautiful moon

of your countenance, full of nectar worthy of being drunk in with the

eyes, and that I have the delight of seeing your heavenly splendour.

When king Naraváhanadatta heard this sincere speech of his father the

king of Vatsa, he quickly summoned Devamáya the Vidyádhara prince, and

said to him in a voice half-choked with a weight of tears, "My father

is returning to his own capital with my mothers, and his ministers,

and the rest of his train, so send on in front of him a full thousand

bháras [599] of gold and jewels, and employ a thousand Vidyádhara

serfs to carry it." When Devamáya had received this order given in

kind tones by his master, he bowed and said, "Bestower of honour,

I will go in person with my attendants to Kausámbí to perform this

duty." Then the emperor sent Váyupatha and Devamáya to attend on their

journey his father and his followers, whom he honoured with presents

of raiment and ornaments. Then the king of Vatsa and his suite mounted

a heavenly chariot, and he went to his own city, after making his

son, who followed him a long way, turn back. And queen Vásavadattá,

whose longing regret rose at that moment with hundred-fold force,

turned back her dutiful son with tears, and looking back at him, with

difficulty tore herself away. And Naraváhanadatta, who, accompanied by

his ministers, had followed his parents and elders, returned to that

mountain of Rishabha with his eyes blinded with tears. There that

emperor remained with his ministers, Gomukha and the rest, who had

grown up with him from his youth, and with hosts of Vidyádhara kings,

with his wives, and with Madanamanchuká at his side, in the perpetual

enjoyment of heavenly pleasures, and he was ever free from satiety.

BOOK XVI.

CHAPTER CXI.

May Ganesa protect you, the ornamental streaks of vermilion on whose

cheeks fly up in the dance, and look like the fiery might of obstacles

swallowed and disgorged by him.

While Naraváhanadatta was thus living on that Rishabha mountain with

his wives and his ministers, and was enjoying the splendid fortune

of emperor over the kings of the Vidyádharas, which he had obtained,

once on a time spring came to increase his happiness. After long

intermission the light of the moon was beautifully clear, and the

earth, enfolded by the young fresh grass, shewed its joy by sweating

dewy drops, and the forest trees, closely embraced again and again

by the winds of the Malaya mountain, were all trembling, bristling

with thorns, and full of sap. [600] The warder of Cupid, the cuckoo,

beholding the stalk of the mango-tree, with his note seemed to forbid

the pride of coy damsels; and rows of bees fell with a loud hum from

the flowery creepers, like showers of arrows shot from the bow of

the great warrior Eros. And Naraváhanadatta's ministers, Gomukha and

the others, beholding at that time this activity of Spring, said to

Naraváhanadatta; "See, king, this mountain of Rishabha is altogether

changed, and is now a mountain of flowers, since the dense lines of

forest with which it is covered, have their blossoms full-blown with

spring. Behold, king, the creepers, which, with their flowers striking

against one another, seem to be playing the castanets; and with the

humming of their bees, to be singing, as they are swayed to and fro by

the wind; while the pollen, that covers them, makes them appear to be

crowned with garlands; and the garden made ready by spring, in which

they are, is like the Court of Cupid. Look at this mango shoot with

its garland of bees; it looks like the bow of the god of love with

loosened string, as he reposes after conquering the world. So come,

let us go and enjoy this festival of spring on the bank of the river

Mandákiní where the gardens are so splendid."

When Naraváhanadatta had been thus exhorted by his ministers, he went

with the ladies of his harem to the bank of the Mandákiní. And there

he diverted himself in a garden resounding with the song of many

birds, adorned with cardamom-trees, clove-trees, vakulas, asokas,

and mandáras. And he sat down on a broad slab of moonstone, placing

queen Madanamanchuká at his left hand, accompanied by the rest of

his harem, and attended by various princes of the Vidyádharas, of

whom Chandasinha and Amitagati were the chief; and while drinking

wine and talking on various subjects, the sovereign, having observed

the beauty of the season, said to his ministers, "The southern breeze

is gentle and soft to the feel; the horizon is clear; the gardens in

every corner are full of flowers and fragrant; sweet are the strains

of the cuckoo, and the joys of the banquet of wine; what pleasure

is wanting in the spring? Still, separation from one's beloved is

during that season hard to bear. Even animals [601] find separation

from their mates in the spring a severe affliction. For instance,

behold this hen-cuckoo here distressed with separation! For she has

been long searching for her beloved, that has disappeared from her

gaze, with plaintive cries, and not being able to find him, she is

now cowering on a mango, mute and like one dead."

When the king had said this, his minister Gomukha said to him, "It is

true, all creatures find separation hard to bear at this time; and

now listen, king; I will tell you in illustration of this something

that happened in Srávastí."

Story of the devoted couple, Súrasena and Sushená. [602]

In that town there dwelt a Rájpút, who was in the service of the

monarch, and lived on the proceeds of a village. His name was Súrasena,

and he had a wife named Sushená, who was a native of Málava. She was in

every respect well suited to him, and he loved her more than life. One

day the king summoned him, and he was about to set out for his camp,

when his loving wife said to him, "My husband, you ought not to go off

and leave me alone; for I shall not be able to exist here for a moment

without you." When Súrasena's wife said this to him, he replied, "How

can I help going, when the king summons me? Do you not understand my

position, fair one? You see, I am a Rájpút, and a servant, dependent

on another for my subsistence." When his wife heard this, she said

to him with tears in her eyes, "If you must of necessity go, I shall

manage to endure it somehow, if you return not one day later than the

commencement of spring." Having heard this, he at last said to her,

"Agreed, my dear! I will return on the first day of the month Chaitra,

even if I have to leave my duty."

When he said this, his wife was at last induced to let him go;

and so Súrasena went to attend on the king in his camp. And his

wife remained at home, counting the days in eager expectation,

looking for the joyful day on which spring begins, on which her

husband was to return. At last, in the course of time, that day of

the spring-festival arrived, resonant with the songs of cuckoos,

that seemed like spells to summon the god of love. The humming of

bees drunk with the fragrance of flowers, fell on the ear, like the

twanging of Cupid's bow as he strung it.

On that day Súrasena's wife Sushená said to herself, "Here is that

spring-festival arrived; my beloved will, without fail, return

to-day. So she bathed, and adorned herself, and worshipped the

god of Love, and remained eagerly awaiting his arrival. But the

day came to an end and her husband did not return, and during the

course of that night she was grievously afflicted by despondency,

and said to herself, "The hour of my death has come, but my husband

has not returned; for those whose souls are exclusively devoted to

the service of another do not care for their own families." While she

was making these reflections, with her heart fixed upon her husband,

her breath left her body, as if consumed by the forest-fire of love.

In the meanwhile Súrasena, eager to behold his wife, and true

to the appointed day, got himself, though with great difficulty,

relieved from attendance on the king, and mounting a swift camel,

accomplished a long journey, and arriving in the last watch of the

night, reached his own house. There he beheld that wife of his lying

dead, with all her ornaments on her, looking like a creeper, with

its flowers full blown, rooted up by the wind. When he saw her, he

was beside himself, and he took her up in his arms, and the bereaved

husband's life immediately left his body in an outburst of lamentation.

But when their family goddess Chandí, the bestower of boons, saw

that that couple had met their death in this way, she restored them

to life out of compassion. And after breath had returned to them,

having each had a proof of the other's affection, they continued

inseparable for the rest of their lives.

"Thus, in the season of spring, the fire of separation, fanned by the

wind from the Malaya mountain, is intolerable to all creatures." When

Gomukha had told this tale, Naraváhanadatta, thinking over it,

suddenly became despondent. The fact is, in magnanimous men, the

spirits, by being elevated or depressed, indicate beforehand the

approach of good or evil fortune. [603]

Then the day came to an end, and the sovereign performed his evening

worship, and went to his bedroom, and got into bed, and reposed

there. But in a dream at the end of the night [604] he saw his

father being dragged away by a black female towards the southern

quarter. The moment he had seen this, he woke up, and suspecting

that some calamity might have befallen his father, he thought upon

the science named Prajnapti, who thereupon presented herself, and

he addressed this question to her, "Tell me, how has my father the

king of Vatsa been going on? For I am alarmed about him on account

of a sight which I saw in an evil dream." When he said this to the

science that had manifested herself in bodily form, she said to him,

"Hear what has happened to your father the king of Vatsa.

"When he was in Kausámbí, he suddenly heard from a messenger, who had

come from Ujjayiní, that king Chandamahásena was dead, and the same

person told him that his wife the queen Angáravatí had burnt herself

with his corpse. This so shocked him, that he fell senseless upon the

ground: and when he recovered consciousness, he wept for a long time,

with queen Vásavadattá and his courtiers, for his father-in-law and

mother-in-law who had gone to heaven. But his ministers roused him

by saying to him, 'In this transient world what is there that hath

permanence? Moreover you ought not to weep for that king, who has you

for a son-in-law, and Gopálaka for a son, and whose daughter's son is

Naraváhanadatta.' When he had been thus admonished and roused from

his prostration, he gave the offering of water to his father-in-law

and mother-in-law.

"Then that king of Vatsa said, with throat half-choked with tears, to

his afflicted brother-in-law Gopálaka, who remained at his side out

of affection, [605] 'Rise up, go to Ujjayiní, and take care of your

father's kingdom, for I have heard from a messenger that the people

are expecting you.' When Gopálaka heard this, he said, weeping, to

the king of Vatsa, 'I cannot bear to leave you and my sister, to go

to Ujjayiní. Moreover, I cannot bring myself to endure the sight of

my native city, now that my father is not in it. So let Pálaka, my

younger brother, be king there with my full consent.' When Gopálaka

had by these words shown his unwillingness to accept the kingdom,

the king of Vatsa sent his commander-in-chief Rumanvat to the city of

Ujjayiní, and had his younger brother-in-law, named Pálaka, crowned

king of it, with his elder brother's consent.

"And reflecting on the instability of all things, he became disgusted

with the objects of sense, and said to Yangandharáyana and his other

ministers, 'In this unreal cycle of mundane existence all objects

are at the end insipid; and I have ruled my realm, I have enjoyed

pleasures, I have conquered my enemies; I have seen my son in the

possession of paramount sway over the Vidyádharas; and now my allotted

time has passed away together with my connections; and old age has

seized me by the hair to hand me over to death; and wrinkles have

invaded my body, as the strong invade the kingdom of a weakling; [606]

so I will go to mount Kálinjara, and abandoning this perishable body,

will there obtain the imperishable mansion of which they speak.' When

the ministers had been thus addressed by the king, they thought over

the matter; and then they all and queen Vásavadattá said to him with

calm equanimity, 'Let it be, king, as it has pleased your highness;

by your favour we also will try to obtain a high position in the

next world.'

"When they had said this to the king, being like-minded with himself,

he formed a deliberate resolution, and said to his elder brother-in-law

Gopálaka, who was present, 'I look upon you and Naraváhanadatta

as equally my sons; so take care of this Kausámbí, I give you my

kingdom.' When the king of Vatsa said this to Gopálaka, he replied,

'My destination is the same as yours, I cannot bear to leave you.' This

he asserted in a persistent manner, being ardently attached to his

sister; whereupon the king of Vatsa said to him, assuming [607] an

anger, that he did not feel, 'To-day you have become disobedient,

so as to affect a hypocritical conformity to my will; and no wonder,

for who cares for the command of one who is falling from his place

of power.' When the king spoke thus roughly to him, Gopálaka wept,

with face fixed on the ground, and though he had determined to go to

the forest, he turned back for a moment from his intention.

"Then the king mounted an elephant, and accompanied by the queens

Vásavadattá and Padmávatí, set out with his ministers. And when he

left Kausámbí, the citizens followed him, with their wives, children,

and aged sires, crying aloud and raining a tempest of tears. The king

comforted them by saying to them, 'Gopálaka will take care of you,'

and so at last he induced them to return, and passed on to mount

Kálinjara. And he reached it, and went up it, and worshipped Siva,

and holding in his hand his lyre Ghoshavatí, that he had loved all

his life, and accompanied by his queens that were ever at his side,

and Yangandharáyana and his other ministers, he hurled himself from the

cliff. And even as they fell, a fiery chariot came and caught up the

king and his companions, and they went in a blaze of glory to heaven."

When Naraváhanadatta heard this from the science, he exclaimed,

"Alas! my father!" and fell senseless on the ground. And when he

recovered consciousness, he bewailed his father and mother and his

father's ministers, in company with his own ministers, who had lost

their fathers.

But the chiefs of the Vidyádharas and Dhanavatí admonished him,

saying, "How is it, king, that you are beside yourself, though you

know the nature of this versatile world that perishes in a moment,

and is like the show of a juggler? And how can you lament for your

parents that are not to be lamented for, as they have done all they

had to do on earth; who have seen you their son sole emperor over

all the Vidyádharas?" When he had been thus admonished, he offered

water to his parents, and put another question to that science,

"Where is my uncle Gopálaka now? What did he do?" Then that science

went on to say to the king,

"When the king of Vatsa had gone to the mountain from which he meant

to throw himself, Gopálaka, having lamented for him and his sister,

and considering all things unstable, remained outside the city, and

summoning his brother Pálaka from Ujjayiní, made over to him that

kingdom of Kausámbí also. And then, having seen his younger brother

established in two kingdoms, he went to the hermitage of Kasyapa in

the ascetic-grove on the Black Mountain, [608] bent on abandoning the

world. And there your uncle Gopálaka now is, clothed with a dress of

bark, in the midst of self-mortifying hermits."

When Naraváhanadatta heard that, he went in a chariot to the Black

Mountain, with his suite, eager to visit that uncle. There he

alighted from the sky, surrounded by Vidyádhara princes, and beheld

that hermitage of the hermit Kasyapa. It seemed to gaze on him with

many roaming black antelope like rolling eyes, and to welcome him

with the songs of its birds. With the lines of smoke ascending into

the sky, where pious men were offering the Agnihotra oblations, it

seemed to point the way to heaven to the hermits. It was full of many

mountain-like huge elephants, and resorted to by troops of monkeys

[609]; and so seemed like a strange sort of Pátála, above ground,

and free from darkness.

In the midst of that grove of ascetics, he beheld his uncle surrounded

by hermits, with long matted locks, clothed in the bark of a tree,

looking like an incarnation of patience. And Gopálaka, when he saw his

sister's son approach, rose up and embraced him, and pressed him to his

bosom with tearful eyes. Then they, both of them, lamented their lost

dear ones with renewed grief; whom will not the fire of grief torture,

when fanned by the blast of a meeting with relations? When even the

animals there were pained to see their grief, Kasyapa and the other

hermits came up and consoled those two. Then that day came to an end,

and next morning the emperor entreated Gopálaka to come and dwell in

his kingdom. But Gopálaka said to him, "What, my child, do you not

suppose that I have all the happiness I desire by thus seeing you? If

you love me, remain here in this hermitage, during this rainy season,

which has arrived."

When Naraváhanadatta had been thus entreated by his uncle, he remained

in the hermitage of Kasyapa on the Black Mountain, with his attendants,

for the term mentioned.

CHAPTER CXII.

Now, one day, when Naraváhanadatta was in the hall of audience on

the Black Mountain, his Commander-in-chief came before him, and said,

"Last night, my sovereign, when I was on the top of my house, looking

after my troops, I saw a woman being carried off through the air by

a heavenly being, crying out, 'Alas! my husband!' and it seemed as if

the moon, which is powerful at that season, had taken her and carried

her off, finding that she robbed it of all its beauty. I exclaimed, 'Ah

villain! where will you go, thus carrying off the wife of another? In

the kingdom of king Naraváhanadatta the protector, which is the

territory of the Vidyádharas, extending over sixty thousand yojanas,

even animals do not work wickedness, much less other creatures.' When

I had said this, I hastened with my attendants and arrested that

swift-footed [610] one, and brought him down from the air with the

lady: and when we looked at him, after bringing him down, we found

that it was your brother-in-law, the Vidyádhara Ityaka, the brother of

your principal queen, born to Madanavega by queen Kalingasená. We said

to him, 'Who is this lady, and where are you taking her?' and then he

answered; 'This is Suratamanjarí the daughter of the Vidyádhara chief

Matangadeva by Chútamanjarí. Her mother promised her to me long ago;

and then her father bestowed her on another, a mere man. So, if I

have to-day recovered my own wife, and carried her off, what harm

have I done?' When Ityaka had said so much, he was silent.

"Then I said to Suratamanjarí, 'Lady, by whom were you married,

and how did this person get possession of you?' Then she said,

'There is in Ujjayiní a fortunate king named Pálaka, he has a son,

a prince named [611] Avantivardhana; by him I was married; and this

night, when I was asleep on the top of the palace, and my husband was

asleep also, I was carried off by this villain.' When she said this,

I kept both of them here, the lady and Ityaka, the latter in fetters;

it now remains for your majesty to decide what is to be done."

When the emperor heard this from his Commander-in-chief Harisikha, he

went in some perplexity to Gopálaka, and told him the story. Gopálaka

said, "My dear nephew, I do not know about this; I know so much,

that the lady was lately married to Pálaka's son; so let the prince

be summoned from Ujjayiní, together with the minister Bharataroha;

then we shall get at the truth." When the emperor received this

advice from his uncle, he sent the Vidyádhara Dhúmasikha to Pálaka

his younger uncle, and summoned from Ujjayiní that prince, his son,

and the minister. When they arrived and bowed before the emperor,

he and Gopálaka received them with love and courtesy, and questioned

them about the matter under consideration.

Then, in the presence of Avantivardhana, who looked like the moon

robbed of the night, [612] of Suratamanjarí, her father, and of

Ityaka, of Váyupatha and his peers, and the hermit Kasyapa, and the

men-at-arms, Bharataroha began to speak as follows, "Once on a time

all the citizens of Ujjayiní met together and said to Pálaka the king

of that city 'To-morrow the festival, called the giving of water,

will take place in this city, and if your majesty has not heard the

true account of the origin of this festival, please listen to it now.'"

Story of king Chandamahásena and the Asura's daughter. [613]

Long ago your father Chandamahásena propitiated the goddess Chandí

with asceticism, in order to obtain a splendid sword and a wife. She

gave him her own sword, and about a wife said to him, "Thou shalt soon

slay, my son, the Asura called Angáraka, and obtain his beautiful

daughter Angáravatí for a wife." When the king had been favoured

with this revelation from the goddess, he remained thinking on the

Asura's daughter.

Now, at this time, everybody that was appointed head police officer

in Ujjayiní, was at once carried off by some creature at night and

devoured. And this went on night after night. Then Chandamahásena

roaming leisurely about the city at night, to investigate the matter

for himself, found an adulterer. He cut off with his sword his oiled

and curled head, and no sooner was his neck severed than a certain

Rákshasa came and laid hold of him. The king exclaimed, "This is

the gentleman that comes and eats the heads of the police at night,"

and laying hold of that Rákshasa by the hair, he prepared to slay him.

Then the Rákshasa said "King, do not slay me under a false

impression! There is another creature in this neighbourhood that eats

the heads of the police." The king said, "Tell me! who is it?" and

the Rákshasa continued, "There is in this neighbourhood an Asura of

the name of Angáraka, whose home is in Pátála. He it is that eats your

police-officers at the dead of night, O smiter of your foes. Moreover,

prince, he carries off by force the daughters of kings from every

quarter, and makes them attend on his daughter Angáravatí. If you see

him roaming about in the forest, slay him, and attain your object in

that way."

When the Rákshasa had said this, the king let him go, and returned

to his palace. And one day he went out to hunt. And in the place

where he was hunting he saw a monstrous boar, with eyes red with

fury, looking like a piece of the mountain of Antimony fallen from

heaven. The king said to himself, "Such a creature cannot be a real

boar, I wonder whether it is the Asura Angáraka that has the power

of disguising himself:" so he smote the boar with shafts. But the

boar recked not of his shafts, and overturning his chariot, entered

a wide opening in the earth.

But the heroic king entered after him, and did not see that boar,

but saw in front of him a splendid castle. And he sat down on the bank

of a lake, and saw there a maiden with a hundred others attending on

her, looking like an incarnation of Rati. She came up to him and asked

him the reason of his coming there, and having conceived an affection

for him, said to him, looking at him with tearful eyes; "Alas! What a

place have you entered! That boar that you saw, was really a Daitya,

Angáraka by name, of adamantine frame and vast strength. At present

he has abandoned the form of a boar and is sleeping, as he is tired,

but when the time for taking food comes, he will wake up and do you

a mischief. And I, fair sir, am his daughter, Angáravatí by name;

and fearing that some misfortune may befall you, I feel as if my life

were in my throat."

When she said this to the king, he, remembering the boon that the

goddess Chandí had given him, felt that he had now a good hope of

accomplishing his object, and answered her, "If you have any love for

me, do this which I tell you: when your father awakes, go and weep

at his side, and when he asks you the reason, say, fair one, 'Father,

if any one were to kill you in your reckless daring, what would become

of me?' If you do this, you will ensure the happiness of both of us."

When the king said this to her, she went, bewildered with love,

and sat down and wept at the side of her father who had woke up;

and when he asked her the cause of her weeping, she told him how she

was afraid that some one would slay him. [614] Then the Daitya said

to her, "Why, who can slay me who am of adamantine frame? the only

vulnerable and vital point I have is in my left hand, and that the

bow protects." This speech of his was heard by the king, who was at

the time concealed near.

Then the Daitya bathed and proceeded to worship Siva. At that moment

the king appeared with his bow strung, and challenged to mortal combat

the Daitya, who was observing religious silence. The Daitya lifted

up his left hand, his right hand being engaged, and made a sign to

the king to wait a little. That very moment the king smote him in

that hand, which was his vital point, with a well-aimed arrow, and

the Daitya fell on the earth. And just before he expired, he said,

"If that man who has thus slain me when thirsty, does not every year

offer water to my manes, his five ministers shall perish." The Daitya

being thus slain, the king took his daughter Angáravatí, and returned

to this city of Ujjayiní.

"And after that king, your father, had married that queen, he used

every year to have an offering of water made to the manes of Angáraka;

and all here celebrate the feast called the giving of water; and to-day

it has come round; so do, king, what your father did before you."

Story of prince Avantivardhana and the daughter of the Mátanga who

turned out to be a Vidyádharí.

"When king Pálaka heard this speech of his subjects', he proceeded

to set going in that city the festival of the giving of water. When

the festival had begun, and the people had their attention occupied

by it, and were engaged in shouting, suddenly an infuriated elephant,

that had broken its fastenings, rushed in among them. That elephant,

having got the better of its driving-hook, and shaken off its

driver, roamed about in the city, and killed very many men in a

short time. Though the elephant-keepers ran forward, accompanied by

professional elephant-drivers, and the citizens also, no man among

them was able to control that elephant. At last, in the course of

its wanderings, the elephant reached the quarter of the Chandálas,

and there came out from it a Chandála maiden. She illuminated the

ground with the beauty of the lotus that seemed to cling to her feet,

delighted because she surpassed with the loveliness of her face the

moon its enemy. [615] She looked like the night that gives rest to

the eyes of the world, because its attention is diverted from other

objects, and so it remains motionless at that time. [616]

That maiden struck that mighty elephant, that came towards her,

with her hand, on its trunk; and smote it with those sidelong looks

askance of hers. The elephant was fascinated with the touch of her

hand and penetrated with her glance, and remained with head bent down,

gazing at her, and never moved a step. [617] Then that fair lady made

a swing with her upper garment, which she fastened to its tusks, and

climbed up and got into it, and amused herself with swinging. Then

the elephant, seeing that she felt the heat, went into the shade of a

tree; and the citizens, who were present, seeing this great wonder,

exclaimed, "Ah! This is some glorious heavenly maiden, who charms

even animals by her power, which is as transcendent as her beauty."

And in the meanwhile the prince Avantivardhana, hearing of it,

came out to see the wonderful sight, and beheld that maiden. As he

gazed, the deer of his heart ran into that net of the hunter Love,

and was entangled by it. She too, when she saw him, her heart being

charmed by his beauty, came down from that swing, which she had put

up on the elephant's tusks, and took her upper garment. Then a driver

mounted the elephant, and she went home, looking at the prince with

an expression of shame and affection.

And Avantivardhana, for his part, the disturbance caused by the

elephant having come to an end, went home to his palace with his

bosom empty, his heart having been stolen from it by her. And when

he got home, he was tortured by no longer seeing that lovely maiden,

and forgetting the feast of the giving of water, which had begun, he

said to his companions, "Do you know whose daughter that maiden is,

and what her name is?" When his friends heard that, they said to him,

"There is a certain Mátanga [618] in the quarter of the Chandálas,

named Utpalahasta, and she is his daughter, Suratamanjarí by name. Her

lovely form can give pleasure to the good [619] only by being looked

at, like that of a pictured beauty, but cannot be touched without

pollution." When the prince heard that from his friends, he said

to them, "I do not think she can be the daughter of a Mátanga,

she is certainly some heavenly maiden; for a Chandála maiden would

never possess such a beautiful form. Lovely as she is, if she does

not become my wife, what is the profit of my life?" So the prince

continued to say, and his ministers could not check him, but he was

exceedingly afflicted with the fire of separation from her.

Then queen Avantivatí and king Pálaka, his parents, having heard that,

were for a long time quite bewildered. The queen said, "How comes it

that our son, though born in a royal family, has fallen in love with

a girl of the lowest [620] caste?" Then king Pálaka said, "Since the

heart of our son is thus inclined, it is clear that she is really

a girl of another caste, who for some reason or other has fallen

among the Mátangas. The minds of the good tell them by inclination

or aversion what to do and what to avoid. In illustration of this,

queen, listen to the following tale, if you have not already heard it."

Story of the young Chandála who married the daughter of king

Prasenajit. [621]

Long ago king Prasenajit, in a city named Supratishthita, had a very

beautiful daughter named Kurangí. One day she went out into the garden,

and an elephant, that had broken from its fastenings, charged her,

and flung her up on his tusks litter and all. Her attendants dispersed

shrieking, but a young Chandála snatched up a sword and ran towards

the elephant. The brave fellow cut off the trunk of that great elephant

with a sword-stroke, and killed it, and so delivered the princess. Then

her retinue came together again, and she returned to her palace with

her heart captivated by the great courage and striking good looks

of the young Chandála. And she remained in a state of despondency at

being separated from him, saying to herself, "Either I must have that

man who delivered me from the elephant for a husband, or I must die."

The young Chandála, for his part, went home slowly, and having his

mind captivated by the princess, was tortured by thinking on her. He

said to himself, "What a vast gulf is fixed between me, a man of the

lowest caste, and that princess! How can a crow and a female swan ever

unite? The idea is so ridiculous that I cannot mention it or consider

it, so, in this difficulty, death is my only resource." After the

young man had gone through these reflections, he went at night to

the cemetery, and bathed, and made a pyre, and lighting the flame

thus prayed to it, "O thou purifying fire, Soul of the Universe, may

that princess be my wife hereafter in a future birth, in virtue of

this offering up of myself as a sacrifice to thee!" When he had said

this, he prepared to fling himself into the fire, but the Fire-god,

pleased with him, appeared in visible shape before him, and said to

him, "Do not act rashly, for she shall be thy wife, for thou art not

a Chandála by birth, and what thou art I will tell thee, listen!

"There is in this city a distinguished Bráhman of the name of

Kapilasarman; in his fire-chamber I dwell in visible bodily shape. One

day his maiden daughter came near me, and smitten with her beauty, I

made her my wife, inducing her to forego her objections by promising

her immunity from disgrace. And thou, my son, wert immediately born

to her by virtue of my power, and she thereupon, out of shame, flung

thee away in the open street; there thou wast found by some Chandálas

and reared on goat's milk. [622] So thou art my son, born to me by

a Bráhman lady. Therefore thou canst not be deemed impure, as thou

art my son; and thou shalt obtain that princess Kurangí for a wife."

When the god of fire had said this, he disappeared, and the Mátanga's

adopted child was delighted, and conceived hope, and so went home. Then

king Prasenajit, having been urged by the god in a dream, investigated

the case, and finding out the truth, gave his daughter to the son of

the Fire-god.

"Thus, queen, there are always to be found heavenly beings in disguise

upon the earth, and you may be assured Suratamanjarí is not a woman of

the lowest caste, but a celestial nymph. For such a pearl, as she is,

must belong to some other race than that of the Mátangas, and without

doubt she was the beloved of my son in a former birth, and this is

proved by his falling in love with her at first sight." When king

Pálaka said this in our presence, I proceeded to relate the following

story about a man of the fisher-caste.

Story of the young fisher man who married a princess.

Long ago there lived in Rájagriha a king named Malayasinha, and he had

a daughter named Máyávatí of matchless beauty. One day a young man of

the fisher-caste, named Suprahára, who was in the bloom of youth and

good looks, saw her as she was amusing herself in a spring-garden. The

moment he saw her, he was overpowered by love; for destiny never

considers whether a union is possible or impossible. So he went home,

and abandoning his occupation of catching fish, he took to his bed, and

refused to eat, thinking only on the princess. And when persistently

questioned, he told his wish to his mother named Rakshitiká, and she

said to her son, "My son, abandon your despondency, and take food;

I will certainly compass this your end for you by my ingenuity."

When she said this to him, he was consoled, and cherished hopes,

and took food; and his mother went to the palace of the princess

with fish from the lake. [623] There that fisher-wife was announced

by the maids, and went in, on the pretext of paying her respects,

and gave the princess that present of fish. And in this way she

came regularly day after day, and made the princess a present, and

so gained her goodwill, and made her desirous of speaking. And the

pleased princess said to the fisher-wife, "Tell me what you wish me

to do; I will do it, though it be ever so difficult."

Then the fisher-wife begged that her boldness might be pardoned, and

said in secret to the princess, "Royal lady, my son has seen you in

a garden, and is tortured by the thought that he cannot be near you;

and I can only manage to prevent his committing suicide by holding

out hopes to him; so, if you feel any pity for me, restore my son to

life by touching him." When the princess was thus entreated by the

fisher-wife, hesitating between shame and a desire to oblige, after

reflection, she said to her, "Bring your son to my palace secretly

at night." When the fisher-wife heard this, she went in high spirits

to her son.

And when night came, she deliberately adorned her son as well as she

could, and brought him to the private apartments of the princess. There

the princess took Suprahára, who had pined for her so long, by the

hand, and affectionately welcomed him, and made him lie down on a

sofa, and comforted him whose limbs were withered by the fire of

separation, by shampooing him with her hand, the touch of which was

cool as sandal-wood. And the fisher-boy was thereby, as it were,

bedewed with nectar, and thinking that after long waiting he had

attained his desire, he took his rest, and was suddenly seized by

sleep. And when he was asleep, the princess escaped, and slept in

another room, having thus pleased the fisher-boy, and having avoided

being disgraced through him.

Then that son of the fisher-folk woke up, owing to the cessation of

the touch of her hand, and not seeing his beloved, who had thus come

within his grasp, and again vanished, like a pot of treasure in the

case of a very poor man, who is despondent for its loss, he was reft

of all hope, and his breath at once left his body. When the princess

found that out, she came there, and blamed herself, and made up her

mind to ascend the funeral pyre with him next morning.

Then her father, king Malayasinha, heard of it, and came there, and

finding that she could not be turned from her resolve, he rinsed his

mouth, and spake this speech; "If I am really devoted to the three-eyed

god of gods, tell me, ye guardians of the world, what it is my duty

to do." When the king said this, a heavenly voice answered him, "Thy

daughter was in a former life the wife of this son of the fisher-folk.

"For, long ago, there lived in a village, called Nágasthala, a virtuous

Bráhman of the name of Baladhara, the son of Mahídhara. When his father

had gone to heaven, he was robbed of his wealth by his relations,

and being disgusted with the world, he went with his wife to the

bank of the Ganges. While he was remaining there without food, in

order to abandon the body, he saw some fishermen eating fish, and

his hunger made him long for it in his heart. So he died with his

mind polluted by that desire, but his wife kept her aspirations pure,

and continuing firm in penance, followed him in death. [624]

"That very Bráhman, owing to that pollution of his desires, has

been born in the fisher-caste. But his wife, who remained firm in

her asceticism, has been born as thy daughter, O king. So let this

blameless daughter of thine, by the gift of half her life, [625] raise

up this dead youth, who was her husband in a former life. For, owing

to the might of her asceticism, this youth, who was thus purified by

the splendour of that holy bathing-place, shall become thy son-in-law,

and a king."

When the king had been thus addressed by the divine voice, he gave

his daughter in marriage to that youth Suprahára, who recovered his

life by the gift of half hers. And Suprahára became a king by means

of the land, elephants, horses, and jewels, which his father-in-law

gave him, and, having obtained his daughter as a wife, lived the life

of a successful man.

Story of the Merchant's daughter who fell in love with a thief. [626]

"In this way a connexion in a former birth usually produces affection

in embodied beings; moreover, in illustration of this truth, listen

to the following story about a thief."

In Ayodhyá there lived of old time a king named Vírabáhu, who always

protected his subjects as if they were his own children. And one

day the citizens of his capital came to him and said, "King, some

thieves plunder this city every night, and though we keep awake for

the purpose, we cannot detect them." When the king heard that, he

placed scouts in the city at night to keep watch. But they did not

catch the thieves and the mischief did not abate. Accordingly the

king went out himself at night to investigate the matter.

And as he was wandering about in every direction, alone, sword in hand,

he saw a man going along on the top of the rampart; he seemed to tread

lightly out of fear; his eyes rolled rapidly like those of a crow;

and he looked round like a lion, frequently turning his neck. He was

rendered visible by the steel-gleams that flashed from his naked

sword, which seemed like binding ropes sent forth to steal those

jewels which men call stars. [627] And the king said to himself;

"I am quite certain that this man is a thief; no doubt he sallies

out alone and plunders this my city."

Having come to this conclusion, the wily monarch went up to the

thief; and the thief said to him with some trepidation, "Who are you,

Sir?" Then the king said to him, "I am a desperate robber, whose many

vices make him hard to keep; [628] tell me in turn, who you are." The

thief answered, "I am a robber, that goes out to plunder alone; and

I have great wealth; so come to my house: I will satisfy your longing

for riches." When the thief made him this promise, the king said, "So

be it," and went with him to his dwelling, which was in an underground

excavation. It was inhabited by beautiful women, it gleamed with many

jewels, it was full of ever new delights, and seemed like the city of

the snakes. [629] Then the thief went into the inner chamber of his

dwelling, and the king remained in the outer room; and while he was

there, a female servant, compassionating him, came and said to him,

"What kind of place have you entered? Leave it at once, for this man is

a treacherous assassin, and as he goes on his expeditions alone, will

be sure to murder you, to prevent his secrets being divulged." [630]

When the king heard that, he went out at once, and quickly repaired

to his palace; and summoning his commander-in-chief, returned with

his troops. And he came and surrounded the thief's dwelling, and made

the bravest men enter it, and so brought the thief back a prisoner,

and carried off all his wealth.

When the night had come to an end, the king ordered his execution;

and he was led off to the place of execution through the middle of the

market. And as he was being led along through that part of the town,

a merchant's daughter saw him, and fell in love with him at first

sight, and she immediately said to her father, "Know that if this

man, who is being led off to execution preceded by the drum of death,

does not become my husband, I shall die myself."

Then her father, seeing that she could not be dissuaded from her

resolution, went and tried to induce the king to spare that thief's

life by offering ten millions of coins. But the king, instead of

sparing the thief's life, ordered him to be immediately impaled, [631]

and was very angry with the merchant. Then the merchant's daughter,

whose name was Vámadattá, took the corpse of that robber, and out of

love for him entered the fire with it.