Thus have I heard.
Going deeper into the forest, calm and resolved in mind, startling the deer as he passed, the birds rising about him with cries, the Prince went on his way, plucking the wild berries and fruits for food, he who had been served from gold and silver, and the sun now fully risen poured floods of light between the quivering leaves and ancient branches of those venerable trees. And as he passed, seeing the world so beautiful, dew trembling like crystals upon leaf and flower and the perfume of the morning exhaling like the breath of a maiden in pure mist, the beginning of peace rose in his troubled mind, and he said within himself.
“After a great storm comes calm. Let me now control my grief, remembering that the past returns no more than Rohini after she has flowed into the ocean. And as in the ocean drifting logs for awhile meet and touch and are then driven apart by the waves so is it with parents, wives, children and wealth. This is most true.”
And when at noon he was weary and his feet torn with the strong thorns and hooks of jungle creepers he sat down to rest and the thought came.
“Were I now in the sweet garden by Rohini how would my wife, soft-handed, gentle-voiced, weep to see these feet, with what cool dropping unguents would she staunch the blood, which now I have not so much as a rag to wipe away.”——
So, seeing this and waiting his opportunity Mara the Tempter—that One evil from of old, drew near through the shining trees, and whether he spoke within or without the heart of Siddhartha I cannot tell, but most certainly he spoke and his voice at first distant as the humming of ardent black bees about a flower became nearer, sweeter, subtle, until it sealed every sense to all but its meaning. And thus he said:
“O Prince, merciful and compassionate but utterly misled, what is it you would do in the wild forest? Is this a place for a ruler of men? Far be it from you! By what evil counsel do you abandon your duties, flinging all madly aside to become an ascetic? What reason is there in believing that pain and destruction of the body give wings to the soul? No—but far otherwise, for the soul dwindles with the tortured body as flame dies when it has consumed the fuel. And if your aim be to benefit mankind, are not just and powerful Kings needed, and was it not foretold at your auspicious birth that you would become an empire-ruling King? Here—living and dying in the jungle, how is your might wasted, and the people forsaken!”
And the voice grew sweeter and more poignant and verily before him did Siddhartha see the face of the Tempter, beautiful and melancholy with pleading mouth and eyes that entreated and hands spread out in prayer.
“Think better, O Prince. Consider how the kingdom of Kosala lies near to Kapila and easily to be captured. Great are the cities of Kosala. Consider the city of Ayodhya—in length it is eighty-four miles, in breadth seventy, and the streets so broad that a team of elephants—nay two; might be easily driven abreast, and flowering trees stand along them, and there are rows of stalls to which the wealthy merchants flock from all the countries of the world, from China and Lanka and down the Passes from Balkh and Samarkhand; their caravans of camels and horses carrying such rarities as kingly hearts desire. There are gardens and mango groves for the delight of the citizens and clear waters where they may sport like swans and other aquatic birds, and mountain-like palaces adorned with pinnacles and banners and glittering with precious inlay,—and great houses where skilled actors delight their hearers with song and dance and story, so that eye and ear are transported in seeing and hearing. And there is a quarter of the city where dwell women of beauty exceeding the Apsaras, for they are brought from the ends of the earth to delight the happy people of Kosala. And the town is thronged with splendid elephants and horses; and neighbouring kings, decked with earrings and armlets, come to pay tribute and marvel at the glittering beauty of the city. There is no want of food and the very water is sweet as the juice of the sugar-cane, and night and day the air resounds with music and stringed instruments. And all this is yours for the taking.”
And heart-enthralling was the picture that rose before the Prince’s eyes in hearing, for he beheld Yashodara a Queen beside him, fair and royal, example to women, and between his knees his son Rahula proud and gentle—a great King to be, and a happy people sheltered in his shadow—a noble people enlightening the dark tribes about them. And the soft voice proceeded like the breathing melody of a flute.