Vessantara Jātaka

“Ten boons,” etc. This story the Master told while dwelling near Kapilavatthu in the Banyan Grove, about a shower of rain.
When the Master turning the precious Wheel of the Law came in due course to Rajagaha, where he spent the winter, with Elder Udayi leading the way, and attended by twenty thousand saints, he entered Kapilavatthu: whereupon the Sakya princes gathered together to see the chief of their clan. They inspected the Blessed One’s abode, saying, “A delightful place this Banyan Grove, worthy of Sakka.” Then they made all due provision for guarding it; and making ready to meet him with fragrant posies in their hands, they sent first all the youngest boys and girls of the township drest in their best, next the princes and princesses, and amongst these themselves did honour to the Master with fragrant flowers and powders, escorting the Blessed One as far as the Banyan Park; where the Blessed One took his seat, surrounded by twenty thousand saints upon the Buddha’s goodly seat, which was appointed for him. Now the Sakiyas are a proud and stiff-necked race; and they, thinking within themselves, “Siddhattha’s boy is younger than we; he is our younger brother, our nephew, our grandson,” said to the younger princes: “You do him obeisance; we will sit behind you.” As they sat there without doing obeisance to him, the Blessed One, perceiving their intent, thought to himself: “My kinsfolk do me no obeisance; well, I will make them do so.” So he caused to arise in him that ecstasy which is based on transcendent faculty, rose up into the air, and as though shaking off the dust of his feet upon their heads, performed a miracle like the twofold miracle at the foot of the knot-mango tree . The king, seeing this wonder, said, “Sir, on the day of your birth, when I saw your feet placed upon the head of Brahmin Kaladevala who had come to do you obeisance, I did obeisance to you, and that was the first time. On the day of the Plowing Festival, when you sate on the royal seat under the shade of a rose-apple tree, when I saw that the shadow of the tree moved not, I did obeisance to your feet; and that was the second time. And now again, I see a miracle which never I saw before, and do obeisance to your feet: this is the third time.” But when the king had thus done obeisance, not one Sakiya could sit still and refrain, they did obeisance one and all.
The Blessed One, having thus made his kinsfolk do him obeisance, came down from the air and sat upon the appointed seat; when the Blessed One was there seated, his kinsfolk were made wise, and sat with peace in their hearts. Then a great cloud arose, and burst in a shower of rain: down came the rain red and with a loud noise, and those who desired to be wet were wetted, but he who did not, had not even a drop fallen upon his body. All who saw it were astonished at the miracle, and cried one to another—“Lo a marvel! to a miracle! to the power of the Buddhas, on whose kinsfolk such a shower of rain is falling!” On hearing this, the Buddha said: “This is not the first time, Brethren, that a great shower of rain has fallen upon my kinsfolk”; and then, at their request, he told a story of the past.
Once upon a time, a king named Sivi, reigning in the city of Jetuttara in the kingdom of Sivi, had a son named Sanjaya. When the lad came of age, the king brought him a princess named Phusati, daughter of king Madda, and handed over the kingdom to him, making Phusati his queen consort. Her former connexion with the world was as follows. In the ninety-first age from this, a Teacher arose in the world named Vipassi. Whilst he was dwelling in the deer-park of Khema, near the city of Bandhumati, a certain king sent to King Bandhuma a golden wreath worth a hundred thousand pieces of money, with precious sandal wood. Now the king had two daughters; and being desirous to give this present to them, he gave the sandal wood to the elder and the golden wreath to the younger. But both declined to use these gifts for themselves; and with the intent to offer them in respect to the Master, they said to the king: “Father, we will offer to the Dasabala this sandal wood and this golden wreath.” To this the king gave his consent. So the elder princess powdered the sandal wood, and filled with the powder a golden box; and the younger sister caused the golden wreath to be made into a golden necklet, and laid it in a golden box. Then they both proceeded to the hermitage in the deer-park; and the elder sister, reverently sprinkling the Dasabala’s golden body with the sandal wood powder, scattered the rest in his cell, and said this prayer: “Sir, in time to come, may I be the mother of a Buddha like you.” The younger reverently placed upon the Dasabala’s golden body the gold-lace necklet which had been made out of the golden wreath, and prayed, “Sir, until I attain sainthood, may this ornament never part from my body.” And the Master granted their prayers.
Both these, after their life was past, came into being in the world of gods. The elder sister, passing from the world of gods to the world of men and back again, at the end of the ninety-first age became Queen Maya mother of the Buddha. The younger sister passing to and fro in like manner, in the time of the Dasabala Kassapa became the daughter of King Kiki; and being born with the semblance of a necklet upon her neck and shoulders, beautiful as though drawn by a painter, she was named Uracchada. When she was a girl of sixteen years, she heard a pious utterance of the Master, and attained to the fruit of the First Path, and so the very same day she attained sainthood, and then entered the Order, and entered Nirvana.
Now King Kiki had seven other daughters, whose names were:

“Samani, Samana, the holy Sister Gutta,
Bhikkhudasika, and Dhamma and Sudhamma,
And of the sisters the seventh Samghadasi.”

In this manifestation of the Buddha, these sisters were—

“Khema, Uppalavanna, the third was Patacara,
Gotama, Dhammadinna, and sixthly Mahamaya,
And of this band of sisters the seventh was Visakha.”

Now of these Phusati became Sudhamma; who did good deeds and gave alms, and by fruit of the offering of sandal wood done to Buddha Vipassi, had her body as it were sprinkled with choice sandal wood. Then passing to and fro between the worlds of men and of gods, eventually she became chief queen of Sakka king of the gods. After her days there were done, and the five customary signs were to be seen, Sakka king of the gods, realizing that her time was exhausted, escorted her with great glory to the pleasaunce in Nandana grove; then as she reclined on a richly adorned seat, he, sitting beside it, said to her: “Dear Phusati, ten boons I grant you: choose.” With these words, he uttered the first stanza in this Great Vessantara Birth with its thousand stanzas:

“Ten boons I give thee, Phusati, O beauteous lady bright:
Choose thou whatever on the earth is precious in thy sight.”

Thus came she to be established in the world of gods by the preaching in the Great Vessantara.
But she, not knowing the circumstances of her re-birth, felt faint, and said the second stanza:

“Glory to thee, O king of gods! what sin is done by me,
To send me from this lovely place as winds blow down a tree?”

And Sakka perceiving her despondency uttered two stanzas:

“Dear art thou still as thou hast been, and sin thou hast not done:
I speak because thy merit now is all used up and gone.
Now thy departure is at hand, the hour of death draws nigh:
Ten boons I offer thee to choose; then choose, before thou die.”

Hearing these words of Sakka, and convinced that she must die, she said, choosing the boons :

“King Sakka, lord of beings all, a boon hath granted me:
I bless him: craving that my life in Sivi’s realm may be.
Black eyes, black pupils like a fawn, black eyebrows may I have,
And Phusati my name: this boon, O bounteous one, I crave.
A son be mine, revered by kings, famed, glorious, debonair,
Bounteous, ungrudging, one to lend a ready ear to prayer.
And while the babe is in my womb let not my figure go,
Let it be slim and graceful like a finely fashioned bow.
Still, Sakka, may my breasts be firm, nor white-haired may I be;
My body all unblemished, may I set the death-doomed free .
Mid herons’ cries, and peacocks’ calls, with waiting women fair,
Poets and bards to sing our praise, shawls waving in the air,
When rattling on the painted door the menial calls aloud,
“God bless King Sivi! come to meat!” be I his queen avowed.”

Sakka said:

“Know that these boons, my lady bright, which I have granted thee,
In Sivi kingdom, beauteous one, all ten fulfilled shall be.”
“So spake the monarch of the gods, the great Sujampati,
Called Vasava, well pleased to grant a boon to Phusati.”

When she had thus chosen her boons, she left that world, and was conceived in the womb of King Madda’s queen; and when she was born, because her body was as it were sprinkled with the perfume of sandal wood, on her name-day they called her by the name Phusati. She grew up amidst a great company of attendants until in her sixteenth year she surpassed all other in beauty. At that time Prince Sanjaya, son of the King of Sivi, was to be invested with the White Umbrella; the princess was sent for to be his bride, and she was made Queen Consort at the head of sixteen thousand women; wherefore it is said—

“Next born a princess, Phusati was to the city led
Jetuttara, and there anon to Sanjaya was wed.”

Sanjaya loved her lief and dearly. Now Sakka pondering remembered how that nine of his ten boons given to Phusati were fulfilled. “But one is left unfulfilled,” he thought, “a goodly son; this I will fulfil for her.” At that time the Great Being was in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three, and his time was done; perceiving which Sakka approached him, and said, “Venerable Sir, you must enter the world of men; without delay you must be conceived in the womb of Phusati, Queen Consort of the King of Sivi.”
With these words, asking the consent of the Great Being and the sixty thousand sons of the gods who were destined to re-birth, he went to his own place. The Great Being came down and was re-born there, and the sixty thousand gods were born in the families of sixty thousand courtiers. Phusati, when the Great Being was conceived in her womb, finding herself with child, desired six alms-halls to be built, one at each of the four gates, one in the middle of the city, and one at her own door; that each day she might distribute six hundred thousand pieces. The king, learning how it was with her, consulted the fortune-tellers, who said, “Great King, in thy wife’s womb is conceived a being devoted to almsgiving, who will never be satisfied with giving.” Hearing this he was pleased, and made a practice of giving as before said.
From the time of the Bodhisat’s conception, there was no end one might say to the king’s revenue; by the influence of the king’s goodness, the kings of all India sent him presents.
Now the queen while with child remained with her large company of attendants, until ten months were fulfilled, and then she wished to visit the city. She informed the king, who caused the city to be decorated like to a city of the gods: he set his queen in a noble chariot, and made procession about the city rightwise. When they had reached the midst of the Vessa quarter, the pains of travail seized upon her. They told the king, and then and there he caused a lying-in chamber to be made and made her go there; and then she brought forth a son; wherefore it is said—

“Ten months she bore me in her womb; procession then they made;
And Phusati in Vessa Street of me was brought to bed.”

The Great Being came from his mother’s womb free from impurity, open-eyed, and on the instant holding out his hand to his mother, he said, “Mother, I wish to make some gift; is there anything?” She replied, “Yes, my son, give as you will,” and dropped a purse of a thousand pieces into the outstretched hand. Three times the Great Being spoke as soon as born: in the Ummagga Birth, in this Birth, and in his last Birth. On his name-day, because he was born in the Vessa Street, they gave him the name Vessantara; wherefore it is said:

“My name not from the mother’s side nor from the father’s came;
As I was born in Vessa Street, Vessantara’s my name.”

On his very birthday, a female flying elephant brought a young one, esteemed to be of lucky omen, white all over, and left it in the royal stables. Because this creature came to supply a need of the Great Being, they named it Paccaya. The king appointed four times sixty nurses for the Great Being, neither too tall nor too short, and free from all other fault, with sweet milk; he appointed also nurses for the sixty thousand children born with him, and so he grew up surrounded by this great company of sixty thousand children. The king caused to be made a prince’s necklace with a hundred thousand pieces of money, and gave it to his son; but he, being of four or five years of age, gave it away to his nurses, nor would he take it back when they wished to give it. They told this to the king, who said, “What my son has given is well given; be it a Brahmin’s gift,” and had another necklace made. But the prince still in his childhood gave this also to his nurses, and so nine times over.
When he was eight years old, as he reclined on his couch, the boy thought to himself: “All that I give comes from without, and this does not satisfy me; I wish to give something of my very own. If one should ask my heart, I would cut open my breast, and tear it out, and give it; if one ask my eyes, I would pluck out my eyes and give them; if one should ask my flesh, I would cut off all the flesh of my body and give it.” And thus he pondered with all his being and the depths of his heart; this earth, forty thousand quadrillions of leagues in extent, and two hundred thousands of leagues in depth, quaked thundering like a great mad elephant; Sineru chief of mountains bowed like a sapling in hot steam, and seemed to dance, and stood leaning towards the city of Jetuttara; at the earth’s rumbling the sky thundered with lightning and rain; forked lightning flashed; the ocean was stirred up: Sakka king of the gods clapt his arms, Mahabrahma gave a sign of approval, high as Brahma’s World all was in uproar; wherefore it is said also:

“When I was yet a little boy, but of the age of eight,
Upon my terrace, charity and gifts I meditate.
If any man should ask of me blood, body, heart, or eye,
Or blood or body, eye or heart I’d give him, was my cry.
And as with all my being I pondered with thoughts like these
The unshaken earth did shake and quake with mountains, woods and trees.”

By the age of sixteen, the Bodhisatta had attained a mastery of all sciences. Then his father, desiring to make him king, consulted with his mother; from the family of King Madda they brought his first cousin, named Maddi, with sixteen thousand attendant women, and made her his Queen Consort, and sprinkled him with the water of coronation. From the time of his receiving the kingdom he distributed much alms, giving each day six hundred thousand pieces of money.
By and by Queen Maddi brought forth a son, and they laid him in a golden hammock, for which reason they gave him the name of Prince Jali. By the time he could go on foot the queen bore a daughter, and they laid her in a black skin, for which reason they gave her the name of Kanhajina. Each month the Great Being would visit his six alms-halls six times, mounted upon his magnificent elephant.
Now at that time there was drought in the kingdom of Kalinga: the corn grew not, there was a great famine, and men being unable to live used robbery. Tormented by want, the people gathered in the king’s courtyard and upbraided him. Hearing this the king said, “What is it, my children?” They told him. He replied, “Good, my children, I will bring the rain,” and dismissed them. He pledged himself to virtue, and kept the holy-day vow, but he could not make the rain come; so he summoned the citizens together, and said to them, “I pledged myself to virtue, and seven days I kept the holy-day vow, yet I could not make the rain come: what is to be done now?” They replied, “If you cannot bring the rain, my lord, Vessantara in the city of Jetuttara, King Sanjaya’s son, is devoted to charity; he has a glorious elephant all white, and wherever he goes the rain falls; send brahmins, and ask for that elephant, and bring him hither.” The king agreed; and assembling the brahmins he chose out eight of them, gave them provisions for their journey, and said to them, “Go and fetch Vessantara’s elephant.” On this mission, the brahmins proceeded in due course to Jetuttara city; in the alms-hall they received entertainment; sprinkled their bodies with dust and smeared them with mud; and on the day of the full moon, to ask for the king’s elephant, they went to the eastern gate at the time the king came to the alms-hall. Early in the morning, the king, intending a visit to the alms-hall, washed himself with sixteen pitchers of perfumed water, and broke his fast, and mounted upon the back of his noble elephant richly adorned proceeded to the eastern gate. The brahmins found no opportunity there, and went to the southern gate, standing upon a mound and watched the king giving alms at the eastern gate. When he came to the southern gate, stretching out their hands they cried, “Victory to the noble Vessantara!” The Great Being, as he saw the brahmins, drove the elephant to the place whereon they stood, and seated upon its back uttered the first stanza:

“With hairy armpits, hairy heads, stained teeth, and dust on poll,
O brahmins, stretching forth your hands, what is it that you crave?”

To this the brahmins replied:

“We crave a precious thing, O prince that dost thy people save:
That choice and saving elephant with tusks like any pole.”

When the Great Being heard this, he thought, “I am willing to give anything that is my own, from my head onwards, and what they ask is something without me; I will fulfil their wish”; and from the elephant’s back, he replied:

“I give, and never shrink from it, that which the brahmins want,
This noble beast, for riding fit, fierce tusked elephant”;

and thus consenting:

“The king, the saviour of his folk, dismounted from its back,
And glad in sacrificing, gave the brahmins what they lack.”

The ornaments on the elephant’s four feet were worth four hundred thousand, those on his two sides were worth two hundred thousand, the blanket under his belly a hundred thousand, on his back were nets of pearls, of gold, and of jewels, three nets worth three hundred thousand, in the two ears two hundred thousand, on his back a rug worth a hundred thousand, the ornament on the frontal globes worth a hundred thousand, three wrappings three hundred thousand, the small ear-ornaments two hundred thousand, those on the two tusks two hundred thousand, the ornament for luck on his trunk a hundred thousand, that on his tail a hundred thousand, not to mention the priceless ornaments on his body two and twenty hundred thousand, a ladder to mount, by one hundred thousand, the food-vessel a hundred thousand, which comes to as much as four and twenty hundred thousand: moreover the jewels great and small upon the canopy, the jewels in his necklace of pearls, the jewels in the goad, the jewels in the pearl necklace about his neck, the jewels on his frontal globes, all these without price, the elephant also without price, making with the elephant seven priceless things—all these he gave to the brahmins; besides five hundred attendants with the grooms and stablemen: and with that gift the earthquake came to pass, and the other portents as related above.
To explain this, the Master spoke:

“Then was a mighty terror felt, then bristling of the hair;
When the great elephant was given the earth did quake for fear.
Then was a mighty terror felt, then bristling of the hair;
When the great elephant was given, trembled the town for fear.
With a resounding mighty roar the city all did ring
When the great elephant was given by Sivi’s foster-king.”

The city of Jetuttara all did tremble. The brahmins, we are told, at the southern gate received the elephant, mounted upon his back, and amidst a thronging multitude passed through the midst of the city. The crowd, beholding them, cried out, “O brahmins, mounted upon our elephant, why are ye taking our elephant?” The brahmins replied, “The great king Vessantara has given the elephant to us: who are you?” and so with contumelious gestures to the crowd, through the city they passed and out by the northern gate by aid of the deities . The people of the city, angry with the Bodhisat, uttered loud reproaches.
To explain this, the Master said:

“Upon that loud and mighty sound, so terrible to hear,
When the great elephant was given the earth did quake for fear.
Upon that loud and mighty sound, so terrible to hear,
When the great elephant was given trembled the town to hear.
So loud and mighty was the sound all terrible did ring,
When the great elephant was given by Sivi’s foster-king.”

The citizens, trembling at heart for this gift, addressed themselves to the king. Therefore it is said:

“Then prince and brahmin, Vesiya and Ugga, great and small,
Mahouts and footmen, charioteers and soldiers, one and all,
The country landowners, and all the Sivi folk come by.
Seeing the elephant depart, thus to the king did cry:
“Thy realm is ruined, sire: why should Vessantara thy son
Thus give away our elephant revered by every one?
Why give our saviour elephant, pole-tusked, goodly, white,
Which ever knew the vantage-ground to choose in every fight?
With jewels and his yak-tail fan; which trampled down all foes;
Long-tusked, furious, white as Mount Kelasa with his snows;
With trappings and white parasol, fit riding for a king,
With leech and driver, he has given away this precious thing.”

After saying this, they said again:

“Whoso bestoweth food and drink, with raiment, fire and fleet,
That is a right and proper gift, for brahmins that is meet.
O Sanjaya, thy people’s friend, say why this thing was done
By him, a prince of our own line, Vessantara, thy son?
The bidding of the Sivi folk if ye refuse to do,
The people then will act, methinks, against your son and you.”

Hearing this, the king suspected that they wished to slay Vessantara; and he said:

“Yea, let my country be no more, my kingdom no more be,
Banish I will not from his realm a prince from fault quite free,
Nor will obey the people’s voice: my true-born son is he.
Yea, let my country be no more, my kingdom no more be,
Banish I will not from his realm a prince from fault quite free,
Nor will obey the people’s voice: my very son is he.
No, I will work no harm on him; all noble is he still;
And it would be a shame for me, and it would cause much ill.
Vessantara, my very son, with sword how could I kill?”

The people of Sivi replied:

“Not chastisement doth he deserve, nor sword, nor prison cell,
But from the kingdom banish him, on Vamka’s mount to dwell.”

The king said:

“Behold the people’s will! and I that will do not gainsay.
But let him bide one happy night before he go away.
After the space of this one night, when dawns the coming day,
Together let the people come and banish him away.”

They agreed to the king’s proposal for just the one night. Then he let them go away, and thinking to send a message to his son, he commissioned an agent, who accordingly went to Vessantara’s house and told him what had befallen.
To make this clear, the following stanzas were said:

“Rise, fellow, hie away post-haste, and tell the prince my word.
“The people all, and citizens, in wrath, with one accord,
Uggas and princes, Vesiyas and brahmins too, my son,
Mahouts and lifeguards, charioteers, and footmen, every one,
All citizens, all country folk, together here have run,—
After the space of this one night, when dawns the coming day,
They will assemble one and all and banish thee away.”
This fellow sent by Sivi’s king swift on his errand pressed,
Upon an armed elephant, perfumed, and finely drest,
Head bathed in water, jewelled rings in ears,—and on he rode
Till to that lovely town he came, Vessantara’s abode.
Then he beheld the happy prince abiding in his land,
Like Vasava the king of gods; round him the courtiers stand.
Thither in haste the fellow went, and to the prince said he—
“I bear ill tidings, royal sir: O be not wroth with me!”
With due obeisance, weeping sore, he said unto the king:
“Thou art my master, sire, and thou dost give me every thing:
Bad news I have to tell thee now: do thou some comfort bring.
The people all and citizens, in wrath, with one consent,
Uggas and princes, Vesiyas and brahmins, all are bent,
Mahouts and lifeguards, charioteers, the footmen every one,
All citizens and country folk together now have run,
After the space of this one night, when dawns the coming day,
Determined all to come in crowds and banish thee away.”

The Great Being said:

“Why are the people wroth with me? for no offence I see.
Tell me, good fellow, wherefore pray they wish to banish me?”

The agent said:

“Uggas and Vesiyas, charioteers, and brahmins every one,
Mahouts and lifeguards, charioteers and footmen, thither run,
All angry at thy giving gifts, and therefore banish thee.”

Hearing this, the Great Being, in all content, said:

“My very eye and heart I’d give: why not what is not mine,
Or gold or treasure, precious stones, or pearls, or jewels fine?
Comes any one to ask of me, I’d give my hand, my right,
Nor for a moment hesitate: in gifts is my delight.
Now let the people banish me, now let the people kill,
Or cut me sevenfold, for cease from gifts I never will.”

On hearing this, the agent again spoke, no message of the king’s or of the people’s, but another command out of his own mind:

“This is the Sivi people’s will; they bade me tell you so:
Where Kontimara by the hill Aranjara doth flow,
Thither depart, where banished men, good sir, are wont to go.”

This he said, we are told, by inspiration of a deity.
Hearing this, the Bodhisatta replied: “Very well, I shall go by the road that those go who have offended; but me the citizens do not banish for any offence, they banish me for the gift of the elephant. In this case I wish to give the great gift of the seven hundreds, and I pray the citizens to grant me one day’s delay for that. To-morrow I will make my gift, the next day I will go”:

“So I by that same road shall go as they who do offend:
But first to make a gift, one night and day I pray them lend.”

“Very good,” said the agent, “I will report this to the citizens,” and away he went.
The man gone, the Great Being summoning one of his captains said to him, “To-morrow I am to make the gift called the gift of the seven hundreds. You must get ready seven hundred elephants, with the same number of horses, chariots, girls, cows, men slaves and women slaves, and provide every kind of food and drink, even the strong liquor, everything which is fit to give.” So having arranged for the great gift of the seven hundreds, he dismissed his courtiers, and alone departed to the dwelling of Maddi; where seating himself on the royal couch, he began to address her.
The Master thus described it:

“Thus did the king to Maddi speak, that lady passing fair:
“All that I ever gave to thee, or goods or grain, beware,
Or gold or treasure, precious stones, and plenty more beside,
Thy father’s dower, find a place this treasure all to hide.”
Then out spake Maddi to the king, that princess passing fair:
“Where shall I find a place, my lord, to hide it? tell me where?”

Vessantara said:

“In due proportion on the good thy wealth in gifts bestow,
No other place than this is safe to keep it, well I know.”

She consented, and withal he exhorted her in this wise:

“Be kind, O Maddi, to thy sons, thy husband’s parents both,
To him who will thy husband be do service, nothing loth.
And if no man should wish to be thy husband, when I’m gone,
Go seek a husband for thyself, but do not pine alone.”

Then Maddi thought, “Why I wonder does Vessantara say such a thing to me?” And she asked him, “My lord, why do you say to me what you ought not to say?” The Great Being replied, “Lady, the people of Sivi, angry with me for the gift of the elephant, are banishing me from the realm: to-morrow I am to make the gift of the seven hundreds, and next day I depart from the city.” And he said:

“To-morrow to a forest drear, beset with beasts of prey,
I go: and whether I can live within it, who can say?’
Then spake the princess Maddi, spake the lady passing fair:
“It is not so! a wicked word! to say it do not dare!
It is not meet and right, my king, that thou alone shouldst fare:
Whatever journey thou shalt go, I also will be there.
Give me the choice to die with thee, or live from thee apart,
Death is my choice, unless I can live with thee where thou art.
Kindle a blazing fiery flame the fiercest that can be,—
There I would rather die the death than live apart from thee.
As close behind an elephant his mate is often found
Moving through mountain pass or wood, o’er rough or level ground,
So with my boys I’ll follow thee, wherever thou mayst lead,
Nor shalt thou find me burdensome or difficult to feed.”

With these words she began to praise the region of Himalaya as if she had seen it:

“When you shall see your pretty boys, and hear their prattle ring
Under the greenwood, you’ll forget that ever you were king.
To see your pretty boys at play, and hear their prattle ring
Under the greenwood, you’ll forget that ever you were king.
When you shall see your pretty boys, and hear their prattle ring
In our fair home, you will forget that ever you were king.
To see your pretty boys at play, and hear their prattle ring
In our fair home, you will forget that ever you were king.
To see your boys all gay-bedeckt, the flowers to watch them bring
In our fair home, you will forget that ever you were king.
To see your boys at play all gay, the flowers to watch them bring
In our fair home, you will forget that ever you were king.
When you behold your dancing boys their wreaths of flowers bring
In our fair home, you will forget that ever you were king.
When you behold them dance and play, and wreaths of flowers bring
In our fair home, you will forget that ever you were king.
The elephant of sixty years, all lonely wandering
The woodland, will make you forget that ever you were king.
The elephant of sixty years, at even wandering
And early, will make you forget that ever you were king.
When you behold the elephant his herd of subjects bring,
The elephant of sixty years, and hear his trumpeting,
To hear the sound you will forget that ever you were king.
The woodland glades, the roaring beasts, and every wished-for thing
When you behold, you will forget that ever you were king.
The deer that come at eventide, the varied flowers that spring,
The dancing frogs—you will forget that ever you were king.
When you shall hear the rivers roar, the fairy creatures sing,
Believe me, you will clean forget that ever you were king.
When you shall hear the screech-owl’s note in mountain cave dwelling,
Believe me, you will clean forget that ever you were king.
Rhinoceros and buffalo, that make the woodland ring,
Lion and tiger—you’ll forget that ever you were king.
When on the mountain top you see the peacock dance and spring
Before the peahens, you’ll forget that ever you were king.
To see the egg-born peacock dance and spread his gorgeous wing
Before the peahens, you’ll forget that ever you were king.
The peacock with his purple neck, to see him dance and spring
Before the peahens—you’ll forget that ever you were king.
When in the winter you behold the trees all flowering
Waft their sweet odours, you’ll forget that ever you were king.
When in the winter you behold the plants all flowering,
The bimbajala, kutaja, and lotus, scattering
Abroad their odours, you’ll forget that ever you were king.
When in the winter you behold the forest flowering
And blooming lotus, you’ll forget that ever you were king.”

Thus did Maddi sing the praises of Himavat in these stanzas, as though she were dwelling therein. Here endeth the Praise of Himavat .
Now Queen Phusati thought: “A harsh command has been laid upon my son: what will he do? I will go and find out.” In a covered carriage she went, and taking up her position at the door of their chamber, she overheard their converse and uttered a bitter lamentation.
Describing this, the Master said:

“She heard the princess and her son, the talk that passed between,
Then bitterly she did lament, that great and glorious queen.
“Better drink poison, better leap from off a cliff, say I,
Or better bind a strangling noose about my neck and die:
Why banish they Vessantara my unoffending son?
So studious and free from greed, giving to all who came,
Respected by his rival kings, of great and glorious fame,
Why banish they Vessantara, my unoffending son?
His parents’ prop, who did respect his elders every one,
Why banish they Vessantara, my unoffending son?
Beloved by the king and queen, by all his kith and kin,
Beloved by his friends, the realm and all that are therein,
Why banish they Vessantara, my unoffending son?”

After this bitter lament, she consoled her son and his wife, and went before the king and said:

“Like mangoes fallen to the ground, like money waste and spent,
So falls thy kingdom, if they will banish the innocent.
Like a wild goose with crippled wing, when all the water’s gone,
Deserted by thy courtiers, thou wilt live in pain alone.
I tell thee true, O mighty king: let not thy good go by,
Nor banish him, the innocent, because the people cry.”

Hearing which, the king answered:

“Thy son, the people’s banner, if I send to exile drear,
My royal duty I obey, than life itself more dear.”

On hearing this, the queen said, lamenting:

“Once hosts of men escorted him, with goodly banners flown,
Like forests full of flowering trees: to-day he goes alone .
Bright yellow robes, Gandhara make, once round about him shone,
Or glowing scarlet, as he went: to-day he goes alone.
With chariot, litter, elephant he went in former days:
To-day the King Vessantara afoot must tramp the ways.
He once by sandal-scent perfumed, awaked by dance and song,
How wear rough skins, how axe and pot and pingo bear along?
Why will they not bring yellow robes, why not the garb of skin,
And dress of bark, the mighty woods that he may enter in?
How can a banisht king put on the robe of bark to wear,
To dress in bark and grass how will the princess Maddi bear?
Maddi, who once Benares cloth and linen used to wear,
And fine kodumbara, how bark and grasses will she bear?
She who in litter or in car was carried to and fro,
The lovely princess, now to-day on foot how can she go?
With tender hands and tender feet in happiness she stood:
How can the lovely princess go trembling into the wood?
With tender hands and tender feet she lived in happy state:
The finest slippers she could wear would hurt her feet of late;
To-day how can the lovely one afoot now go her gait?
Once she would go begarlanded amidst a thousand maids:
How can the beauteous one alone now walk the forest glades?
Once if she heard the jackal howl she would be all dismayed:
How can the timid beauteous one now walk the forest glade?
She who of Indra’s royal race would ever shrink afraid,
Trembling like one possest, to hear the hoot some owl had made,
How can the timid beauteous one now walk the forest glade?
Like as a bird beholds the nest empty, the brood all slain,
So when I see the empty place long shall I burn in pain.
Like to a bird that sees the nest empty, the brood all slain,
Thin, yellow I shall grow to see my dear son ne’er again.
Like to a bird that sees the nest empty, the brood all slain,
I’ll run distracted, if I see my dear son ne’er again.
As when an eagle sees its nest empty, its young brood slain,
So when I see the empty place long shall I live in pain.
As when an eagle sees its nest empty, its young brood slain,
Thin, yellow I shall grow to see my dear son ne’er again.
As when an eagle sees its nest empty, its young brood slain,
I’ll run distracted, if I see my dear son ne’er again.
Like ruddy geese beside a pond from which the water’s gone,
Long shall I live in pain, to see no more my dearest son.
Like ruddy geese beside a pond from which the water’s gone,
Thin, yellow I shall grow to see no more my dearest son.
Like ruddy geese beside a pond from which the water’s gone,
I’ll fly distracted, if I see no more my dearest son.
And if you banish from the realm my unoffending son,
In spite of this my sore complaint, methinks my life is done.”

Explaining this matter, the Master said:

“Hearing the queen bewailing sore, straight all together went
The palace dames, their arms outstretcht, to join in her lament.
And in the palace of the prince, prone lying all around
Women and children lay like trees blown down upon the ground.
And when the night was at an end, and the sun rose next day,
Then King Vessantara began his gifts to give away.
“Food to the hungry give, strong drink to those who drink require,
Give clothes to those who wish for clothes, each after his desire.”
“Let not one suitor hither come go disappointed back,
Shew all respect, and food or drink to taste let no man lack.”
And so they gathered thick and fast with joy and merry play,
As Sivi’s great and fostering king prepared to go away.
They did cut down a mighty tree that full of fruit did stand,
When the innocent Vessantara they banished from the land.
They did cut down a wishing-tree, with every boon at hand,
When the innocent Vessantara they banished from the land.
They did cut down a wishing-tree, with choicest boons at hand,
When the innocent Vessantara they banished from the land.
Both old and young, and all between, did weep and wail that day,
Stretching their arms out, when the king prepared to go away,
Who fostered Sivi’s realm.
Wise women, eunuchs, the king’s wives, did weep and wail that day,
Stretching their arms out, when the king prepared to go away,
Who fostered Sivi’s realm.
And all the women in the town did weep and wail that day,
When Sivi’s great and fostering king prepared to go away.
The brahmans and ascetics too, and all who begged for need,
Stretching their arms out, cried aloud, “It is a wicked deed!”
To all the city while the king his bounty did present,
And by the people’s sentence, fared forth into banishment.
Seven hundred elephants he gave, with splendour all bedight,
With girths of gold, caparisoned with trappings golden bright,
Each ridden by his own mahout, with spiked hook in hand:
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
Seven hundred horses too he gave, bedeckt in bright array,
Horses of Sindh, and thorobreds, all fleet of foot are they,
Each ridden by a henchman bold, with sword and bow in hand:
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
Seven hundred chariots all yoked, with banners flying free,
With tiger skin and panther hide, a gorgeous sight to see,
Each driven by mailed charioteers, all armed with bow in hand:
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
Seven hundred women too he gave, each standing in a car,—
With golden chains and ornaments bedeckt these women are,
With lovely dress and ornaments, with slender waist and small,
Curved brows, a merry smile and bright, and shapely hips withal:
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
Seven hundred kine he also gave, with silver milkpails all:
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
Seven hundred female slaves he gave, as many men at call:
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
Cars, horses, women, elephants he gave, yet after all,
Lo now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land!
That was a thing most terrible, that made the hair to stand,
When now the King Vessantara goes banished from the land !”

Now a deity told the news to the kings of all India: how Vessantara was giving great gifts of high-born maidens and the like. Therefore the Khattiyas by the divine power came in a chariot, and returned with the high-born maidens and so forth that they had received. Thus did Khattiyas, brahmans, Vessas, and Suddas, all receive gifts at his hands before they departed. He was still distributing his gifts when evening fell; so he returned to his dwelling, to greet his parents and that night to depart. In gorgeous chariot he proceeded to the place where his parents dwelt, and with him Maddi went, in order to take leave of his parents with him. The Great Being greeted his father and announced their coming.
To explain this, the Master said:

“Give greeting to King Sanjaya the righteous: bid him know
That since he now doth banish me, to Vamka hill I go.
Whatever beings, mighty king, the future time shall know,
With their desires unsatisfied to Yama’s house shall go.
For wrong I did my people, giving bounty from my hand,
By all the people’s sentence I go banished from the land.
That sin I now would expiate i’ the panther-haunted wood:
If you will wallow in the slough, yet I will still do good.”

These four stanzas the Great Being addressed to his father: and then he turned to his mother, asking her permission to leave the world with these words:

“Mother, I take my leave of you: a banished man I stand.
For wrong I did my people, giving bounty from my hand,
By all the people’s sentence I go banished from the land.
That sin I now would expiate i’ the panther-haunted wood:
If you will wallow in the slough, yet I will still do good.”

In reply, Phusati said:

“I give you leave to go, my son, and take my blessing too:
Leave Maddi and the boys behind, for she will never do;
Fair rounded limbs and slender waist, why need she go with you?”

Vessantara said:

“Even a slave against her will I would not take away:
But if she wishes, let her come; if not, then let her stay.”

On hearing what his son said, the king proceeded to entreat her.
Explaining this, the Master said:

“And then unto his daughter-in-law the king began to say:
“Let not your sandal-scented limbs bear dust and dirt, I pray,
Wear not bark-fibre wraps instead of fine Benares stuff;
Blest princess, go not! forest life indeed is hard enough.”
Then princess Maddi, bright and fair, her father-in-law addrest:
“To be without Vessantara I care not to be blest.”
Then Sivi’s mighty fostering king thus spake to her again:
“Come, Maddi, listen while the woes of forests I explain.
The swarms of insects and of gnats, of beetles and of bees
Would sting you in that forest life, unto your great disease.
For dwellers on the river banks hear other plagues that wait:
The boa-constrictor (poisonless ’Tis true, but strong and great),
If any man or any beast come near, will take firm hold,
And drag them to his lurking-place enwrapt in many a fold.
Then there are other dangerous beasts with black and matted hair;
They can climb trees to catch a man: this beast is called a bear.
Along the stream Sotumbara there dwells the buffalo;
Which with his great sharp-pointed horns can give a mighty blow.
Seeing these herds of mighty kine wander the forest through,
Like some poor cow that seeks her calf say what will Maddi do?
When crowds of monkeys in the trees gather, they will affright
You, Maddi, in your ignorance with their uncomely sight.
Once on a time the jackal’s howl would bring great fear to you:
Now dwelling on the Vamka hill, Maddi, what will you do?
Why would you go to such a place? Even at high midday,
When all the birds are stilled to rest, the forest roars away.”
Then beauteous Maddi to the king spake up and answered so:
“As for these things so terrible, which you have tried to shew,
I willingly accept them all; I am resolved to go.
Through all the hill and forest grass, through clumps of bulrush reed,
With my own breast I’ll push my way, nor will complain indeed.
She that would keep a husband well must all her duties do;
Ready to roll up balls of dung, ready for fasting too,
She carefully must tend the fire, must mop up water still,
But terrible is widowhood: great monarch, go I will.
The meanest harries her about; she eats of leavings still:
For terrible is widowhood—great monarch, go I will.
Knocked down and smothered in the dust, haled roughly by the hair—
A man may do them any hurt, all simply stand and stare.
O terrible is widowhood! great monarch, go I will.
Men pull about the widow’s sons with cruel blows and foul,
Though fair and proud of winning charm, as crows would peck an owl.
O terrible is widowhood! great monarch, go I will.
Even in a prosperous household, bright with silver without end,
Unkindly speeches never cease from brother or from friend.
O terrible is widowhood! great monarch, go I will.
Naked are rivers waterless, a kingdom without king,
A widow may have brothers ten, yet is a naked thing.
O terrible is widowhood! great monarch, go I will.
A banner is the chariot’s mark, a fire by smoke is known,
Kingdoms by kings, a wedded wife by husband of her own.
O terrible is widowhood! great monarch, go I will.
The wife who shares her husband’s lot, be it rich or be it poor,
Her fame the very gods do praise, in trouble she is sure.
My husband I will follow still, the yellow robe to wear,
To be the queen of all the earth without, I would not care.
O terrible is widowhood! great monarch, go I will.
Those women have no heart at all, they’re hard and cannot feel,
Who when their husbands are in woe, desire to be in weal.
When the great lord of Sivi land goes forth to banishment,
I will go with him; for he gives all joy and all content.”
Then up and spake the mighty king to Maddi bright and fair:
“But leave your two young sons behind: for what can they do there,
Auspicious lady? we will keep and give them every care.”
Then Maddi answered to the king, that princess bright and fair:
“My Jali and Kanhajina are dearest to my heart:
They’ll in the forest dwell with me, and they will ease my smart.”
Thus answer made the monarch great, thus Sivi’s foster-king:
“Fine rice has been their food and well-cooked viands hitherto:
If they must feed on wild-tree fruit, what will the children do?
From silver dishes well adorned or golden hitherto,
They ate: but with bare leaves instead what will the children do?
Benares cloth has been their dress, or linen hitherto:
If they must dress in grass or bark, what will the children do?
In carriages or palanquins they’ve ridden hitherto
When they must run about on foot, what will the children do?
In gabled chambers they would sleep safe-bolted hitherto:
Beneath the roots of trees to lie, what will the children do?
On cushions, rugs or broidered beds they rested hitherto:
Reclining on a bed of grass, what will the children do?
They have been sprinkled with sweet scents and perfumes hitherto:
When covered all with dust and dirt, what will the children do?
When peacock’s feathers, yak’s tail fans have fanned them hitherto,
Bitten by insects and by flies, what will the children do?”

As they conversed thus together, the dawn came, and after the dawn up rose the sun. They brought round for the Great Being a gorgeous carriage with a team of four Sindh horses, and stayed it at the door. Maddi did obeisance to her husband’s parents, and, bidding farewell to the other women, took leave, and with her two sons went before Vessantara and took her place in the carriage.
Explaining this matter, the Master said:

“Then Maddi answered to the king, that lady bright and fair:
“Do not lament for us, my lord, nor be perplexed so:
The children both will go with us wherever we shall go.”
With these words Maddi went away, that lady bright and fair:
Along the highroad, and the two children her path did share.
Then King Vessantara himself, his vow performed as bound,
Does reverence to his parents both, and passes rightwise round.
Then, mounting in the chariot swift, drawn by its team of four,
With wife and children off he sped where Vamka’s peak did soar.
Then drove the King Vessantara where most the crowd did swell,
And cried—“We go! a blessing on my kinsfolk—fare ye well!”

Addressing these words to the crowd, the Great Being admonished them to be careful, to give alms and do good deeds. As he went, the Bodhisat’s mother, saying, “If my son desires to give, let him give,” sent to him two carts, one on each side, filled with ornaments, laden with the seven precious things. In eighteen gifts he distributed to beggars he met on the road all he had, including even the mass of ornaments which he wore on his own body. When he had got away from the city, he turned round and desired to look upon it; then according to his wish the earth cleft asunder to the measure of the chariot, and turning round, brought the chariot to face the city, and he beheld the place where his parents dwelt. So then followed earthquakes and other wonders; wherefore it is said:

“When from the city he came forth, he turned again to look:
And, therefore, like a banyan tree great Mount Sineru shook.”

And as he looked, he uttered a stanza to induce Maddi to look also:

“See, Maddi, see the lovely place from which we now have come—
The king of Sivi s dwelling-house and our ancestral home!”

Then the Great Being looking towards the sixty thousand courtiers, who were born when he was, and the rest of the people, made them turn back; and as he drove on with the carriage, he said to Maddi: “Lady, look out and see if any suitors are walking behind.” She sat watching. Now four brahmins, who had been unable to be present at the gift of the Seven Hundreds, had come to the city; and finding that the distribution was over, ascertained that the prince had gone. “Did he take anything with him?” they asked. “Yes: a chariot.” So they resolved to ask for the horses. These men Maddi saw approaching. “Beggars, my lord!” said she; the Great Being stayed the chariot. Up they came and asked for the horses: the Great Being gave them.
Explaining this, the Master said:

“Then did four brahmins catch him up, and for the horses plead:
He gave the horses on the spot—each beggar had one steed.”

The horses disposed of, the yoke of the chariot remained suspended in the air; but no sooner were the brahmins gone than four gods in the guise of red deer came and caught it. The Great Being who knew them to be gods uttered this stanza:

“See, Maddi, what a wondrous thing—a marvel, Maddi, see!
These clever horses, in the shape of red deer, drawing me!”

But then as he went up came another brahmin and asked for the chariot. The Great Being dismounted his wife and children, and gave him the chariot; and when he gave the chariot, the gods disappeared.
To explain the gift of the chariot, the Master said:

“A fifth came thereupon, and asked the chariot of the king:
He gave this also, and his heart to keep it did not cling.
Then made the King Vessantara his people to dismount,
And gave the chariot to the man who came on that account.”

After this, they all went on afoot. Then the Great Being said to Maddi:

“Maddi, you take Kanhajina, for she is light and young,
But Jali is a heavy boy, so I’ll bring him along.”

Then they took up the two children, and carried them on their hips.
Explaining this, the Master said:

“He carrying his boy, and she her daughter, on they went,
Talking together on the road in joy and all content.”

When they met anyone coming to meet them along the road, they asked the way to Vamka hill, and learnt that it was afar off. Thus it is said:

“Whenever they met travellers coming along the way,
They asked directions for their road, and where Mount Vamka lay.
The travellers all wept full sore to see them on the way,
And told them of their heavy task: “The road is long,” they say.”

The children cried to see fruit of all kinds on the trees which grew on both sides of the road. Then by the Great Being’s power, the trees bowed down their fruit so that their hands could reach it, and they picked out the ripest and gave it to the little ones. Then Maddi cried out, “A marvel!” Thus it is said:

“Whene’er the children did behold trees growing on the steep
Laden with fruit, the children for the fruit began to weep.
But when they saw the children weep, the tall trees sorrowful
Bowed down their branches to their hands, that they the fruit might pull.
Then Maddi cried aloud in joy, that lady fair and bright,
To see the marvel, fit to make one’s hair to stand upright.
One’s hair might stand upright to see the marvel here is shewn:
By power of King Vessantara the trees themselves bend down!”

From the city of Jetuttara, the mountain named Suvannagiritala is five leagues distant; from thence the river Kontimara is five leagues away, and five leagues more to Mount Aranjaragiri, five leagues again to the brahman village of Dunnivittha, thence ten leagues to his uncle’s city: thus from Jetuttara the journey was thirty leagues. The gods shortened the journey, so that in one day they came to his uncle’s city. Thus it is said:

“The Yakkhas made the journey short, pitying the children’s plight,
And so to Ceta kingdom they arrived before the night.”

Now they left Jetuttara at breakfast time, and in the evening they came to the kingdom of Ceta and to his uncle’s city.
Explaining this, the Master said:

“Away to Ceta they proceed, a journey great and long,
A kingdom rich in food and drink, and prosperous, and strong.”

Now in his uncle’s city dwelt sixty thousand Khattiyas. The Great Being entered not into the city, but sat in a hall at the city gate. Maddi brushed off the dust on the Great Being’s feet, and rubbed them; then with a view to announce the coming of Vessantara, she went forth from the hall, and stood within sight. So the women who came in and out of the city saw her and came round.
Explaining this, the Master said:

“Seeing the auspicious lady there the women round her throng.
“The tender lady! now afoot she needs must walk along.
In palanquin or chariot once the noble lady rode:
Now Maddi needs must go afoot; the woods are her abode.”

All the people then, seeing Maddi and Vessantara and the children arrived in this unbecoming fashion, went and informed the king; and sixty thousand princes came to him weeping and lamenting.
To explain this, the Master said:

“Seeing him, the Ceta princes came, with wailing and lament.
“Greet thee, my lord: we trust that you are prosperous and well,
That of your father and his realm you have good news to tell.
Where is your army, mighty king? and where your royal car?
With not a chariot, not a horse, you now have journeyed far:
Were you defeated by your foes that here alone you are?”

Then the Great Being told the princes the cause of his coming:

“I thank you, sirs; be sure that I am prosperous and well;
And of my father and his realm I have good news to tell.
I gave the saviour elephant, pole-tusked, goodly white,
Which ever knew the vantage-ground to choose in every fight;
His jewels, and his yak’s tail fan; which trampled down the foes,
Long-tusked, furious, white as Mount Kelasa with his snows;
With trappings and white parasol, fit riding for a king,
With leech and driver: yes, I gave away this precious thing.
Therefore the people were in wrath, my father took it ill:
Therefore he banished me, and I now go to Vamka hill.
I pray you, tell me of a place to be my dwelling still.”

The princes answered:

“Now welcome, welcome, mighty king, and with no doubtful voice:
Be lord of all that here is found, and use it at your choice.
Take herbs, roots, honey, meat, and rice, the whitest and the best:
Enjoy it at your will, O king, and you shall be our guest.”

Vessantara said:

“Your proffered gifts I here accept, with thanks for your goodwill.
But now the king has banished me; I go to Vamka hill.
I pray you, tell me of a place to be my dwelling still.”

The princes said:

“Stay here in Ceta, mighty king, until a message go
To tell the king of Sivi land what we have come to know.”
Then they behind him in a throng escorting him did go,
All full of joy and confidence: this I would have thee know.”

The Great Being said:

“I would not have you send and tell the king that I am here:
He is not king in this affair: he has no power, I fear.
The palace folk and townsfolk all in wrath came gathering,
All eager that because of me they might destroy the king.”

The princes said:

“If in that kingdom came to pass so terrible a thing,
Surrounded by the Ceta folk stay here, and be our king.
The realm is prosperous and rich, the people strong and great:
Be minded, sir, to stay with us and govern this our state.”

Vessantara said:

“Hear me, O sons of Ceta land! I have no mind to stay,
As I go forth a banished man, nor here hold royal sway.
The Sivi people one and all would be ill pleased to know
That you had sprinkled me for king, as banished forth I go.
If you should do it, that would be a most unpleasant thing,
To quarrel with the Sivi folk: I like not quarrelling.
Your proffered gifts I here accept, with thanks for your goodwill.
But now the king has banished me: I go to Vamka hill.
I pray you, tell me of a place to be my dwelling still.”

Thus the Great Being, in spite of so many requests, declined the kingdom. And the princes paid him great honour; but he would not enter within the city; so they adorned that hall where he was, and surrounded it with a screen, and preparing a great bed, they kept careful watch round about. One day and one night he abode in the hall well-guarded; and next day, early in the morning, after a meal of all manner of fine-flavoured food, attended by the princes, he left the hall, and sixty thousand Khattiyas went with him for fifteen leagues, then standing at the entering in of the wood, they told of the fifteen leagues which yet remained of his journey.

“Yes, we will tell you how a king who leaves the world may be
Good, peaceful by his sacred fire, and all tranquillity.
That rocky mountain, mighty king, is Gandhamadana,
Where with your children and your wife together you may stay.
The Ceta folk, with faces all bewept and streaming eyes,
Advise you to go northward straight where high its peaks uprise.
There you shall see Mount Vipula (and blessing with thee go),
Pleasant with many a growing tree that casts cool shade below.
When you shall reach it, you shall see (a blessing with thee still)
Ketumati, a river deep and springing from the hill.
Full of all fish, a safe resort, its deep flood flows away:
There you shall drink, and there shall bathe, and with your children play.
And there, upon a pleasant hill, cool-shaded, you will see,
Laden with fruit as honey sweet, a noble banyan tree.
Then you will see Mount Nalika, and that is haunted ground:
For there the birds in concert sing and woodland sprites abound.
There further still towards the north is Mucalinda Lake,
On which the lilies blue and white a covering do make.
Then a thick forest, like a cloud, with grassy sward to tread,
Trees full of flowers and of fruit, all shady overhead,
Enter: a lion seeking prey wherewith he may be fed.
There when the forest is in flower, a shower of song is heard,
The twitter here and twitter there of many a bright-winged bird.
And if those mountain cataracts you follow to their spring,
You’ll find a lily-covered lake with blossoms flowering,
Full of all fish, a safe resort, deep water without end,
Foursquare and peaceful, scented sweet, no odour to offend:
There build yourself a leafy cell, a little to the north,
And from the cell which you shall make in search of food go forth.”

Thus did the princes tell him of his fifteen-league journey, and let him go. But to prevent any fear of danger in Vessantara, and with a view to leave no hold for any adversary, they gave directions to a certain man of their country, wise and skilful, to keep an eye upon his goings and comings; whom they left at the entering in of the forest, and returned to their own city.
And Vessantara with his wife and children proceeded to Gandhamadana; that day he abode there, then setting his face northwards he passed by the foot of Mount Vipula, and rested on the bank of the river Ketumati, to eat a goodly repast provided by the forester, and there they bathed and drank, presenting their guide with a golden hairpin. With mind full of calmness he crossed the stream, and resting awhile under the banyan which stood on a flat space on the mountain, after eating its fruit, he rose up and went on to the hill called Nalika. Still moving onwards, he passed along the banks of Lake Mucalinda to its northeastern corner: whence by a narrow footpath he penetrated into the thick forest, and passing through, he followed the course of the stream which rose out of the mountain until he came to the foursquare lake.
At this moment, Sakka king of the gods looked down and beheld that which had happened. “The Great Being,” he thought, “has entered Himavat, and he must have a place to dwell in.” So he gave orders to Vissakamma: “Go, pray, and in the dells of Mount Vamka, build a hermitage on a pleasant spot.” Vissakamma went and made two hermitages with two covered walks, rooms for the night and rooms for the day; alongside of the walks he plants rows of flowering trees and clumps of banana, and makes ready all things necessary for hermits. Then he writes an inscription, “Whoso wishes to be a hermit, these are for him,” and driving away all unhuman creatures and all harsh-voiced beasts and birds, he went to his own place.
The Great Being, when he beheld a path, felt sure that it must lead to some hermits’ settlement. He left Maddi and the two children at the entrance of the hermitage, and went in; when seeing the inscription, he recognized that Sakka’s eye was upon him. He opened the door and entered, and putting off his bow and sword, with the garments which he wore, he donned the garb of a hermit, took up the staff, and coming forth entered the covered walk and paced up and down, and with the quietude of a Pacceka Buddha approached his wife and children. Maddi fell at his feet in tears; then with him entering the hermitage, she went to her own cell and donned the ascetic dress. After this they made their children to do the like. Thus the four noble hermits dwelt in the recesses of Mount Vamka.
Then Maddi asked a boon of the Great Being. “My lord, do you stay here with the children, instead of going out in search of wild fruits; and let me go instead.” Thenceforward she used to fetch the wild fruits from the forest and feed them all three. The Bodhisatta also asked her for a boon. “Maddi, we are now hermits; and woman is the canker of chastity. Henceforward then, do not approach me unseasonably.” She consented.
By the power of the Great Being’s compassion, even the wild animals, all that were within three leagues of their borders, had compassion one of another. Daily at dawn, Maddi arises, provides water for their drinking and food to eat, brings water and tooth-brush for cleansing the mouth, sweeps out the hermitage, leaves the two children with their father, basket, spade, and hook in hand hies to the forest for wild roots and fruits, with which she fills her basket: at evening she returns, lays the wild fruits in the cell, washes the children; then the four of them sit at the door of the cell and eat their fruits. Then Maddi takes her two children, and retires to her own cell. Thus they lived in the recesses of the mountain for seven months .
At that time, in the kingdom of Kalinga, and in a Brahmin village named Dunnivittha, lived a brahmin Jujaka. He by quest of alms having obtained a hundred rupees deposited them with a certain brahmin family, and went out to get more wealth. As he was long away, the family spent that money; the other came back and upbraided them, but they could not return the money, and so they gave him their daughter named Amittatapana. He took the maiden with him to Dunnivittha, in Kalinga, and there dwelt. Amittatapana tended the brahmin well. Some other brahmins, young men, seeing her dutifulness, reproached their own wives with it: “See how carefully she tends an old man, whilst you are careless of your young husbands!” This made the wives resolve to drive her out of the village. So they would gather in crowds at the river side and everywhere else, reviling her.
Explaining this, the Master said:

“Once in Kalinga, Jujaka a brahmin spent his life,
Who had Amittatapana, quite a young girl, to wife.
The women who with waterpots down to the river came
Cried shame upon her, crowding up, and roundly cursed her name.
“A “foe” indeed your mother was, a “foe” your father too,
To let an old decrepit man wed