Something strange to-day I fear:
The trough is full, and mistress by;
Men, noose in hand, are standing near:
To eat appears a jeopardy.

Then the Bodhisatta hearing him said, "Brother Cullatundila, the purpose for which my mother rears pigs all this time [289] has to-day come to its fulfilment: do not grieve," and so with sweet voice and the ease of a Buddha he expounded the law and spoke two stanzas:--

You fear, and look for aid, and quake,
But, helpless, whither can you flee?
We're fattened for our flesh's sake:
Eat, Tundila, and cheerfully.

Plunge bold into the crystal pool,
Wash all the stains of sweat away:
You'll find our ointment wonderful,
Whose fragrance never can decay.

As he considered the Ten Perfections, setting the Perfection of Love before him as his guide, and uttered the first line, his voice reached and extended to Benares over the whole twelve leagues. At the instant of hearing it, the people of Benares from kings and viceroys downwards came, and those who did not come stood listening in their houses. The king's men breaking down the bush levelled the ground and scattered sand. The drunkenness left the lewd fellows, and throwing away the nooses they stood listening to the law: and the old woman's drunkenness left her also. The Bodhisatta began to preach the law to Cullatundila among the multitude.

[290] Cullatundila hearing him, thought, "My brother says so to me: but it is never our custom to plunge into the pool, and by bathing to wash away sweat from our bodies and after taking away old stain to get new ointment: why does my brother say so to me?" So he spoke the fourth stanza:--

But what is that fair crystal pool,
And what the stains of sweat, I pray?
And what the ointment wonderful,
Whose fragrance never can decay?

The Bodhisatta hearing this said, "Then listen with attentive ear," and so expounding the law with the ease of a Buddha he spoke these stanzas:--

The law is the fair crystal pool,
Sin is the stain of sweat, they say:
Virtue's the ointment wonderful,
Whose fragrance never will decay.

Men that lose their life are glad,
Men that keep it feel annoy:
Men should die and not be sad,
As at mid-month's festal joy.