(4) In a bad man gentle words sink no deeper than the throat, like nectar swallowed by Rāhu. The good man bears them constantly on his heart, as Hari his pure gem.
A story tender with the charm of gracious speech, creates in the heart joy full of fresh interest[4]; and it comes of itself, with native feeling, to its lord’s possession, like a fresh bride.[5]
Who is not carried captive by tales fashioned in freshness of speech, all alight with similes, and the lamps of glowing words[6]: pleasant tales interwoven with many a contrast of words,[7] as jasmine garlands with campak buds?
There was once a Brahman, Kuvera by name, sprung from the race of Vātsyāyana, sung throughout the world for his virtue, a leader of the good: his lotus feet were worshipped by many a Gupta, and he seemed a very portion of Brahma.
(5) On his mouth Sarasvatī ever dwelt: for in it all evil was stilled by the Veda; it had lips purified by sacrificial cake, and a palate bitter with soma, and it was pleasant with smṛiti and çāstra.
In his house frightened boys, as they repeated verses of the Yajur and Sāma Veda, were chidden at every word by caged parrots and mainas, who were thoroughly versed in everything belonging to words.
From him was born Arthapati, a lord of the twice-born, as Hiraṇyagarbha from the world-egg, the moon from the Milky Ocean, or Garuḍa from Vinatā.
As he unfolded his spreading discourse day by day at dawn, new troops of pupils, intent on listening,[8] gave him a new glory, like fresh sandal-shoots fixed on the ear.
(6) With countless sacrifices adorned with gifts duly offered,[9] having glowing Mahāvīra fires in their midst,[10] and raising the sacrificial posts as their hands,[11] he won easily, as if with a troop of elephants, the abode of the gods.
He in due course obtained a son, Citrabhānu, who amongst his other noble and glorious sons, all versed in çruti and çāstra, shone as crystal, like Kailāsa among mountains.