king, she thy chief queen, I viceroy." The priest said, "It cannot be " but being asked again he consented: and the king made the priest king, the queen-mother chief queen, and himself viceroy. They lived all in harmony together, but the Bodhisatta pined amid a householder's life: he left desires and leaned to a religious life: careless of the pleasures of sense he stood and sat and lay alone, like a man bound in jail or a cock in a cage. [393] The chief queen thought, "The king avoids me, he stands and sits and lies alone; he is young and fresh, I am old and have grey hairs: what if I were to tell him a story that he has one grey hair, make him believe it and seek my company? " One day, as if cleaning the king's head, she said, "Your majesty is getting old, there is a grey hair on your head." "Pull it out and put it in my hand." She pulled a hair out, but threw it away and put into his hand one of her own grey hairs. When he saw it, fear of death made the sweat start from his forehead, though it was like a plate of gold. He admonished himself, saying, "Susima, you have become old in your youth; all this time sunk in the mud of desire, like a village pig wallowing in filth and mire, you cannot leave it: quit desires, and become an ascetic in the Himalaya: it is high time for the religious life," and with this thought, he uttered the first stanza:--

Heretofore the hairs were dark
Clustering about my brow;
White to-day: Susima, mark!
Time for religion now!

So the Bodhisatta praised the religious life: but the queen saw she had caused him to leave her instead of loving her, and in fear, wishing to keep him from the religious life by praising his body, she uttered two stanzas:--

[374] Mine, not thine, the silvered hair;
Mine the head from which it came:
For thy good the lie I dare:
One such fault forbear to blame!

Thou art young, and fair to see,
Like a tender plant in spring!
Keep thy kingdom, smile on me!
Seek not now what age will bring!

But the Bodhisatta said, "Lady, you tell of what must come: as age ripens, these dark hairs must turn and become pale like betel: I see the change and breaking up of body that comes in years, in the ripening of age, to royal maids and all the rest, though they are tender as a wreath of blue lotus-flowers, fair as gold, and drunken with the pride of their glorious youth: such, lady, is the dreary end of living beings," and, moreover, showing the truth with the charm of a Buddha, he uttered two stanzas:--

[395] I have marked the youthful maid,
Swaying like the tender stalk,
In her pride of form arrayed;
Men are witched where'er she walk.