Buddha, the holy and benevolent,
Met a fell monster, huge and fierce of look,
Whose awful voice the hills and forests shook.
“O son of peace!” the giant cried, “thy fate
Is sealed at last, and love shall yield to hate.”
The unarmed Buddha, looking, with no trace
Of fear or anger, in the monster’s face,
In pity said: “Poor friend, even thee I love.”
Lo! as he spake, the sky-tall terror sank
To hand-breadth size; the huge abhorrence shrank