It pains the gambler when he sees a woman,
Another’s wife, and their well-ordered household:
He yokes these brown steeds early in the morning,
And, when the fire is low, sinks down an outcast.
“Play not with dice, but cultivate thy cornfield;
Rejoice in thy goods, deeming them abundant:
There are thy cows, there is thy wife, O gambler.”
This counsel Savitṛi the kindly gives me.
We learn here that the dice (aksha) were made of the nut of the Vibhīdaka tree (Terminalia bellerica), which is still used for the purpose in India.
The other three poems of this group may be regarded as the forerunners of the sententious poetry which flourished so luxuriantly in Sanskrit literature. One of them, consisting only of four stanzas (ix. 112), describes in a moralising strain of mild humour how men follow after gain in various ways:—