No More Learning

The stirrup-holder was overcome with horror, and came down
from the mountain bewildered, and represented the state of the
case, and gave the king a cup of cold water from his ewer.
The latter raised the cup to his lips, and his eyes overflowed
with tears.
COUPLET
A little water then he drank: the burnings of his heart were stopped;
The fluid that his lips imbibed, back from his flooding eyelids dropped.
The attendant asked the reason of his weeping. The king
drew a cold sigh from his anguished heart, and said:
COUPLET
"So deep my grief that I to none can tell the secret of my woes;
And yet my tale is such that I must still my lips perforce unclose. "
He then related in full the story of the hawk and the spill-
ing of the water in the cup; and said, “I grieve for the death of
the hawk, and bemoan my own deed in that without inquiry I
have deprived a creature so dear to me of life. " The attendant
replied, "This hawk protected thee from a great peril, and has
established a claim to the gratitude of all the people of this
country. It would have been better if the king had not been
precipitate in slaying it, and had quenched the fire of wrath.
with the water of mildness, and had turned back the reins of the
courser of his passions with the vigor of endurance, and had not
transgressed the monition of the wise, who have said: -
COUPLET
Do not the courser of thyself so strain,
That thou canst not at will draw in the rein. "
The king replied, "I repent of this unseemly action, but my
repentance is now unavailing, and the wound of this sorrow can-
not be healed by any salve; and as long as I live I shall retain
XX-718


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11474
PILPAY
on my bosom the scar of this regret, and lacerate the visage of
my feelings with the nail of remorse.
HEMISTICH
What can I do? The deed was mine: for self-made ills there is no
cure. »
THE ASS IN THE LION'S SKIN
From the Jataka': translated by Henry Clarke Warren, in his Buddhism in
Translations,' Vol. iii. of the Harvard Oriental Series
"N^
AY, this is not a lion's roar. " - This also was related by the
Teacher concerning Kokalika; and it was while dwelling in
Jetavana monastery. Kokalika, at the time, was desirous of
intoning a doctrinal recitation before the congregation of the priests.
When the Teacher heard this, he related the following tale:-
:-
ONCE upon a time, when Brahmadatta was reigning at Benares,
the Future Buddha, having been born in a farmer's family and
now come of age, was making his living by husbandry. Now at
that time a certain peddler went about selling his wares, which
he carried on the back of an ass. And at every place he came
to he would unload the ass, and dressing him up in the skin of
a lion, let him loose in some field of rice or barley. And the
field-watchers did not dare approach, as they thought it was a
lion. Now one day the peddler took up his abode at the gate
of a village, and while his breakfast was cooking, he dressed up
the ass in the lion's skin and let him loose in a field of barley.
The field-watchers did not dare approach, as they thought it was
a lion, but went home and announced the news. Then all the
inhabitants of the village took up arms, and, blowing conch-shells
and beating drums, went to the field and shouted, so that the ass
became afraid for his life and brayed. Then the Future Buddha
knew it was an ass, and pronounced the first stanza:
"Nay, this is not a lion's roar,
Nor tiger, panther, gives it vent;
But, dressed up in a lion's skin,
It is a wretched ass that brays. "
-
And also the inhabitants of the village knew it was an ass,
and beat him until his bones broke, and took the lion's skin away


## p. 11475 (#89) ###########################################

PILPAY
11475
with them.
Then came the peddler, and seeing that his ass had
come to grief, he pronounced the second stanza: -
-
"Long might the ass have lived to eat
The green and tender barley grain,
Accoutred in the lion's skin,
But that he brayed, and ruined all. "
And while he was thus speaking, the ass died; whereupon the
peddler left him and went his way.
The Teacher, having given this doctrinal instruction, identified the
characters in the Birth-story: - "At that time the ass was Kokalika,
but the wise farmer was I myself. "
THE HARE-MARK IN THE MOON
From the Jataka': translated by Henry Clarke Warren, in his Buddhism in
Translations,' Vol. iii. of the Harvard Oriental Series
"S
OME red-fish have I, seven in all. " This was related by the
Teacher while dwelling in Jetavana monastery; and it was
concerning a donation of all the requisites to the congregation
of the priests.
It seems that a householder of Savatthi prepared a donation of all
the requisites for the Buddha and for the Order. At the door of his
house he had a pavilion built and gotten ready; and having invited
the Buddha and the congregation of the priests, he made them sit
down on costly seats which had been spread for them in the pavilion,
and gave them an excellent repast of savory dishes. Then he invited
them again for the next day, and again for the next, until he had
invited them seven times. And on the seventh day he made the
donation of all the requisites to the Buddha and to five hundred
priests.
At the end of the breakfast the Teacher returned thanks and
said:
:-
-
"Layman, it is fitting that you thus manifest a hearty zeal; for
this almsgiving was also the custom of the wise of old time. For
the wise of old time surrendered their own lives to chance suppliants,
and gave their own flesh to be eaten. ”
Then, at the request of the householder, he related the bygone
Occurrence:-
ONCE upon a time, when Brahmadatta was ruling at Benares,
the Future Buddha was born as a hare, and dwelt in a wood.


## p. 11476 (#90) ###########################################

11476
PILPAY
Now on
one side of this wood was a mountain, on another a
river, and on another a border village. And there were three
other animals that were his comrades,-a monkey, a jackal, and
an otter. These four wise creatures dwelt together, catching their
prey each in his own hunting-ground, and at night resorting
together. And the wise hare would exhort the other three and
teach them the Doctrine, saying, "Give alms, keep the precepts,
and observe fast-days. " Then the three would approve of his
admonition, and go each to his own lair in the thicket, and spend
the night.
Time was going by in this manner, when one day the Future
Buddha looked up into the sky and saw the moon, and perceived
that the next day would be fast-day. Then said he to the others:
"To-morrow is fast-day. Do you three keep the precepts and
observe the day; and as alms given while keeping the precepts
bring great reward, if any suppliants present themselves give
them to eat of your own food. "
"Very well," said they, and passed the night in their lairs.
On the next day the otter started out early, and went to the
banks of the Ganges to hunt for prey. Now a fisherman had
caught seven red-fish and strung them on a vine, and buried
them in the sand on the banks of the Ganges, and had then gone
on down-stream catching fish as he went. The otter smelt the
fishy odor, and scraping away the sand, perceived the fish and
drew them out. Then he called out three times, "Does any one
own these? " and when he saw no owner, he bit hold of the vine
with his teeth, and drew them to his lair in the thicket. There
he lay down, remembering that he was keeping the precepts, and
thinking, "I will eat these at the proper time. "
And the jackal also went out to hunt for prey, and found
in the hut of a field-watcher two spits of meat, and one iguana,
and a jar of sour cream. Then he called out three times, "Does
any one own these? " and when he saw no owner, he placed the
cord that served as a handle for the jar of sour cream about his
neck, took hold of the spits of meat and of the iguana with his
teeth, and brought them home, and placed them in his lair in
the thicket. Then he lay down, remembering that he was keep-
ing the precepts, and thinking, "I will eat these at the proper
time. "
And the monkey also, entering the forest, fetched home a
bunch of mangoes, and placed them in his lair in the thicket.


## p. 11477 (#91) ###########################################

PILPAY
11477
Then he lay down, remembering that he was keeping the pre-
cepts, and thinking, "I will eat these at the proper time. "
The Future Buddha, however, remained in his thicket, think-
ing, "At the proper time I will go out and eat dabba-grass. "
Then he thought, "If any suppliants come, they will not want to
eat grass, and I have no sesamum, rice, or other such food. If
any suppliant comes, I will give him of my own flesh. "
Such fieriness of zeal in keeping the precepts caused the
marble throne of Sakka to grow hot. Then, looking carefully,
Sakka discovered the cause, and proposed to himself to try the
hare. And disguised as a brahman, he went first to the lair of
the otter.
"Brahman, why stand you there? " said the otter.
Said he, "Pandit, if I could but get something to eat, I would
keep fast-day vows, and perform the duties of a monk. ”
"Very well," said the otter: "I will give you some food. "
And he addressed him with the first stanza:
"Some red-fish have I, seven in all,
Found stranded on the river bank.
All these, O brahman, are my own:
Come eat, and dwell within this wood. "
"I will return a little later," said the brahman; "let the mat-
ter rest until to-morrow. "
Then he went to the jackal. And the latter also asking,
«< Why stand you there? " the brahman answered the same as
before.
"Very well," said the jackal: "I will give you some food. "
And he addressed him with the second stanza:
-
"A watchman guards the field close by,-
His supper have I ta'en away:
Two spits of meat, iguana one,
One dish of butter clarified.
All these, O brahman, are my own:
Come eat, and dwell within this wood. "
"I will return a little later," said the brahman; "let the mat-
ter rest until to-morrow. "
Then he went to the monkey. And the latter also asking,
"Why stand you there? " the brahman answered the same as
before.


## p. 11478 (#92) ###########################################

11478
PILPAY
"Very well," said the monkey: "I will give you some food. "
And he addressed him with the third stanza:
"Ripe mangoes, water clear and cold,
And cool and pleasant woodland shade,-
All these, O brahman, are my own:
Come eat, and dwell within this wood. "
"I will return a little later," said the brahman: "let the mat-
ter rest until to-morrow. "
Then he went to the wise hare. And he also asking, "Why
stand you there? " the brahman answered the same as before.
The Future Buddha was delighted. "Brahman," said he,
"you have done well in coming to me for food. To-day I will
give alms such as I never gave before; and you will not have
broken the precepts by destroying life. Go, my friend, and
gather wood, and when you have made a bed of coals, come and
tell me.
I will sacrifice my life by jumping into the bed of live
coals. And as soon as my body is cooked, do you eat of my
flesh, and perform the duties of a monk. ” And he addressed
him with the fourth stanza:
"The hare no seed of sesamum
Doth own, nor beans, nor winnowed rice.
But soon my flesh this fire shall roast:
Then eat, and dwell within this wood. "
When Sakka heard this speech, he made a heap of live coals
by his superhuman power, and came and told the Future Buddha.
The latter rose from his couch of dabba-grass, and went to the
spot. And saying, "If there are any insects in my fur, I must
not let them die," he shook himself three times. Then throwing
his whole body into the jaws of his liberality, he jumped into
the bed of coals, as delighted in mind as a royal flamingo when
he alights in a cluster of lotuses. The fire, however, was unable
to make hot so much as a hair-pore of the Future Buddha's body.
He felt as if he had entered the abode of cold above the clouds.
Then, addressing Sakka, he said:-
-
"Brahman, the fire you have made is exceeding cold, and is
not able to make hot so much as a hair-pore of my body. What
does it mean? "
"Pandit, I am no brahman: I am Sakka, come to try you. "


## p. 11479 (#93) ###########################################

PILPAY
11479
"Sakka, your efforts are useless; for if all beings who dwell
in the world were to try me in respect of my liberality, they
would not discover in me any unwillingness to give. " Thus the
Future Buddha thundered.
"Wise hare," said then Sakka, "let your virtue be proclaimed.
to the end of this world-cycle. " And taking a mountain, he
squeezed it, and with the juice drew the outline of a hare in the
disk of the moon. Then in that wood, and in that thicket, he
placed the Future Buddha on some tender dabba-grass, and tak-
ing leave of him, departed to his own celestial abode.
And these four wise creatures lived happily and harmoniously,
and kept the precepts, and observed fast-days, and passed away
according to their deeds.
When the Teacher had given this instruction, he expounded the
truths, and identified the characters of the Birth-story (at the close of
the exposition of the truths, the householder who had given all the
requisites became established in the fruit of conversion): —
"In that existence the otter was Ananda, the jackal was Moggal-
lana, the monkey was Sariputta, while the wise hare was I myself. "
COUNT NOT YOUR CHICKENS BEFORE THEY BE HATCHED
From the Panchatantra,' Book v. , Fable 9
[This is the well-known tale of the Milkmaid who poised a full pail on her
head,' La Fontaine's 'Perrette' (vii. 10). It recurs in the Arabian
Nights (Night 716), and often elsewhere. *]
Ο
NCE upon a time there lived in a certain town a brahman
named Luckless. He begged a lot of barley grits; and
with what he had left over from his dinner, he filled a jar.
This he hung on a low peg in the wall, put his cot beneath
it, and looking at it with unaverted gaze, he bethought him:-
"This pot is full of barley grits, and if there comes a famine,
will fetch me a hundred pieces of silver. With them I shall buy
me a couple of she-goats; and as they will drop kids every six
months, I shall soon have a herd from them. For the goats I
* See the mutations of this tale in the selection from Max Müller, in the
present work.


## p. 11480 (#94) ###########################################

11480
PILPAY
shall get many cows; for the cows, buffalo-cows; and for them,
mares; and when they have foaled, I shall have many horses;
and from the sale of them, much gold. With the gold I'll get a
house with four rooms, about a court. And then some brahman
will come to my house, and give me his lovely daughter, with a
rich dowry in marriage.
"She will bear me a son, and I'll name him Soma-çarman.
When he's old enough for me to trot him on my knee, I'll take
a book, and sitting out behind the stable, I'll study it. Then
Soma-çarman, seeing me, and eager to be trotted on my knee,
will leave his mother's lap, and in coming to me will get right
near the horses' hoofs. And I, full of anger, shall say to my
wife, 'Take the child, quick! ' She, busy with housework, won't
hear me, and I shall get up and give her a kick. "
Deep sunk in thought, he gave such a kick that he broke
the jar, and the grits ran down over him till he was well whit-
ened.
Translation of Charles R. Lanman.
THE TRANSFORMED MOUSE
From the 'Panchatantra,' Book iii. , Fable 12
ON
N THE bank of the Ganges, whose billows are flecked with
white foam made by the fish that dart in terror at the
roar of the waters breaking on its craggy shores, there is
a hermitage filled with ascetics. They are given over to prayer,
restraint of the senses, asceticism, study of holy writ, fasting, and
meditation. They take very pure and very little water. They
mortify the flesh by a diet of bulbs, roots, fruits, and water-
plants. They wear only an apron of bast.
There was one among them named Yajnavalkya. He had
performed his sacred ablutions in the Ganges, and was about
to rinse his mouth, when into his hand there fell from the beak
of a hawk a little mouse. On seeing it, he put it on a banyan-
leaf, bathed again and rinsed his mouth, performed rites of expia-
tion and so forth; and then by the power of his asceticism he
changed the mouse into a girl, took her with him to his hermit-
age, and said to his wife, who was childless, "My dear, take this
girl as your daughter, and bring her up carefully. "


## p. 11481 (#95) ###########################################

PILPAY
11481
So the wife reared her, and loved her, and cared for her, till
she was twelve years old; and then, seeing the girl was fit to be
married, she said to her husband, "Seest thou not, O husband,
that the time for our daughter's marriage is slipping by? ”
Quite right," said he: "so if she is agreed, I will summon
the exalted sun-god, and give her to him to wife. " "What's the
harm? " said his wife: "do so. "
<<
So the sage called the sun. And such was the power of his
summons, which was made up of words of the Scripture, that the
sun came instantly, saying, "Reverend sir, didst thou call me? "
He answered, "Here is my daughter. If she will but choose
thee, then take her to wife. " And to his daughter he spake,
"My child, does the exalted sun, the illumer of the three worlds,
please thee? » The girl said, "Father, he is too scorching.
like him not. Call me some one more eminent than he. " Then
said the hermit to the sun, "Exalted one, is there any one
mightier than thou? " And the sun said, "There is one might-
ier than I, the cloud; for he covers me, and then none can see
me. "
I
So the sage called the cloud, and said, "Daughter, to him do
I give thee. " "He is too dark and cold," answered she; "so
give me to some other mightier being. " Then the sage asked the
cloud, "O cloud, is there any mightier even than thou ? »
"The
wind is mightier than I," said the cloud: "when the wind strikes
me I am torn to a thousand shreds. "
So the sage called the wind and said, "Daughter, does the
wind please thee best for a husband? ". -"Father, he is too fickle.
Bring hither some one mightier even than he. "
And the sage
said, "O wind, is any mightier than thou? " And the wind made
answer, "The mountain is mightier than I; for strong as I am,
it braces itself and withstands me. "
So the sage called the mountain and said, "Daughter, to
him do I give thee. " She answered and spake, "Father, he is
too hard and unyielding.
Give me to some other than him. ”
So the sage asked the mountain, "O king of mountains, is
there any mightier even than thou? " And the mountain said,
"The mice are mightier than I; for they tear and rend my body.
asunder. "
So the sage called a mouse, and showed him to her, and said,
(( Daughter, to him do I give thee. Does the king of the mice
please thee? »


## p. 11482 (#96) ###########################################

11482
PILPAY
And she, showing her joy at the thought that this one at last
was of her own kind, said, "Father, make me a mouse again,
and give me to him, in order that I may fulfill my household
duties after the manner ordained for my kind. "
So by the power
of his asceticism he made her a mouse again, and gave her to
him.
HE brahman said:
THE
Translation of Charles R. Lanman.
THE GREEDY JACKAL
From the Panchatantra,' Book ii. , Fable 3
And again -
Excessive greed should ne'er be cherished.
Have greed - but keep it moderate.
The all too greedy jackal perished,
A wooden top-knot on his pate.
How was that? " asked the brahman woman.
narrated.
IN a certain forest lived a savage tribesman, who, on a day,
set out a-hunting. And as he went he met a mighty boar, as
big as the peak of Mount Anjana. Straightway, drawing his
bow till the string touched his ear, he let fly a keen arrow and
hit the boar. Full of rage, the boar, with his sharp tusk that
gleamed like the young moon's crescent, ripped up the belly
of the hunter, that he fell lifeless to earth.
But the boar too
yielded his life, from the smarting wound of the arrow.
Meantime a jackal, for whom Fate had ordained a speedy
death, roaming for hunger hither and yon, came to the spot.
Delighted at the sight of the boar and the hunter, he bethought.
him: "Ah! Fate is kind to me in giving me this unexpected
food. How true is the saying:-
And the brahman
No finger need'st thou raise! may'st work or sleep!
But of thy deeds wrought in a former birth,
The fruit or good or ill-thou needs must reap!
Inexorable Karma rules the earth.
In whatso time of life, or when, or where,
In former birth thou didst or good or ill,
In just that time of life, and then, and there,
In future birth, of fruit shalt have thy fill!


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11483
Now I'll manage it so with these carcasses that I shall get a
living off of them for many days. And to begin withal, I'll eat
the sinew which forms the bowstring. For they say-
A wise man doth sip the elixir of life,
Circumspectly and slowly, and heedful.
Thus enjoy thou the riches thou'st won by thy strife:
Never take at one time more than needful. "
Making up his mind in this way, he took the end of the
bow in his mouth, and began to gnaw the sinew. But as soon
as his teeth cut through the string, the bow tore through his
palate, and came out of his head like a top-knot, and he gave
up the ghost. Therefore, continued the brahman, therefore I
say:
· -
Excessive greed should ne'er be cherished.
Have greed - but keep it moderate.
The all too greedy jackal perished,
A wooden top-knot on his pate.
Translation of Charles R. Lanman.
"HOW PLAUSIBLE »
From the
Jataka,' No. 89
T
HIS story was told by the Master while at Jetavana, about a
knave. The details of his knavery will be related in the
Uddala-jataka.
ONCE on a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares,
there lived hard by a certain little village a shifty rascal of an
ascetic, of the class which wears long matted hair. The squire
of the place had a hermitage built in the forest for him to dwell
in, and used to provide excellent fare for him in his own house.
Taking the matted-haired rascal to be a model of goodness, and
living as he did in fear of robbers, the squire brought a hundred
pieces of gold to the hermitage, and there buried them, bidding
the ascetic keep watch over them. - "No need to say that, sir, to
a man who has renounced the world; we hermits never covet
other folks' goods. "—"It is well, sir," said the squire, who went
off with full confidence in the other's protestations. Then the
rascally ascetic thought to himself, "There's enough here to keep
a man all his life long. " Allowing a few days to elapse first,


## p. 11484 (#98) ###########################################

11484
PILPAY
he removed the gold and buried it by the wayside, returning to
dwell as before in his hermitage. Next day, after a meal of rice
at the squire's house, the ascetic said, "It is now a long time,
sir, since I began to be supported by you; and to live long in
one place is like living in the world,-which is forbidden to pro-
fessed ascetics. Wherefore I must needs depart. " And though
the squire pressed him to stay, nothing could overcome this
determination.
"Well then, if it must be so, go your way, sir," said the
squire; and he escorted the ascetic to the outskirts before he left
him. After going a little way, the ascetic thought that it would
be a good thing to cajole the squire; so putting a straw in his
matted hair, back he turned again. "What brings you back? "
asked the squire. "A straw from your roof, sir, had stuck in
my hair; and as we hermits may not take anything which is not
bestowed upon us, I have brought it back to you. " "Throw
it down, sir, and go your way," said the squire, who thought to
himself, “Why, he won't take so much as a straw which does
not belong to him! What a sensitive nature! " Highly delighted
with the ascetic, the squire bade him farewell.
Now at that time it chanced that the Future Buddha, who
was on his way to the border district for trading purposes, had
halted for the night at that village. Hearing what the ascetic
said, the suspicion was aroused in his mind that the rascally
ascetic must have robbed the squire of something; and he asked
the latter whether he had deposited anything in the ascetic's care.
"Yes: a hundred pieces of gold. "
"Well, just go and see if it's all safe. "
Away went the squire to the hermitage, and looked, and
found his money gone.
Running back to the Future Buddha, he
cried, "It's not there. " "The thief is none other than that long-
haired rascal of an ascetic," said the Future Buddha: "let us
pursue and catch him. " So away they hastened in hot pursuit.
When they caught the rascal, they kicked and cuffed him till he
discovered to them where he had hidden the money. When he
procured the gold, the Future Buddha, looking at it, scornfully
remarked to the ascetic, "So a hundred pieces of gold didn't
trouble your conscience so much as that straw! " And he rebuked
him in this stanza: -
"How plausible the story that the rascal told!
How heedful of the straw! How heedless of the gold! "


## p. 11485 (#99) ###########################################

PILPAY
11485
When the Future Buddha had rebuked the fellow in this
wise, he added: "And now take care, you hypocrite, that you
don't play such a trick again. "
When his life ended, the Future Buddha passed away, to fare
thereafter according to his deserts.
His lesson ended, the Master said, "Thus you see, brethren, that
this brother was as knavish in the past as he is to-day. " And he
identified the Birth by saying: "This knavish brother was the knav-
ish ascetic of those days, and I the wise and good man. ”
THE MAN IN THE PIT
From the Maha-Bharata ›
[This is one of the most famous parables of antiquity and the Middle
Ages, and has served alike for the edification of Brahmans, Jains, Buddhists,
Mohammedans, Jews, and Christians. The text of this passage of the 'Maha-
Bharata (Book xi. , Sections 5, 6) is corrupt, and the version therefore free.
The history of the parable forms the subject of a charming essay by Ernst
Kuhn, in Festgruss an Otto von Böhtlingk' (Stuttgart, 1888). ]
THE PARABLE
CERTAIN brahman, it is said, once came into a vast and
A impassable jungle filled with beasts of prey, and so beset
on every hand with horribly roaring lions, tigers, and ele-
phants that even the God of Death would quake at the sight.
The brahman's heart was sore affrighted, and his hair stood on
end. He ran hither and yonder, searching in every quarter for
some place of refuge, but in vain. And as he ran, he saw that
the horrible jungle was encompassed with a net which was held
by a woman of most horrible aspect.
Now in the midst of the jungle was an overgrown pit, whose
mouth was covered with creepers and tough grasses. The brah-
man fell into this hidden well, but caught himself in the tangled
creepers and hung there, feet upwards, head downwards.
Meantime new troubles came upon him: for within the pit
he beheld a huge and mighty serpent; and hard by the mouth of
it, an enormous black elephant with six faces and twelve feet,
gradually approaching. Many terrible bees swarmed about the
branches of the tree that stood over the pit, eager for the honey
which continually dripped down from the twigs.


## p. 11486 (#100) ##########################################

11486
PILPAY
The man, in spite of his dreadful strait as he hung in the
pit, sipped the honey as it dripped: but as he sipped, his thirst
did not abate; and ever insatiate, he longed for more and more.
Mice, some white and some black, gnawed the roots of the plants
on which he held fast. There was danger from the beasts, from
the horrible woman, from the serpent at the bottom, and from the
elephant at the mouth of the pit; danger from the mice and from
the giving way of the plants; and danger from the bees.
Yet even so, he let not go his hope and wish for life.
THE INTERPRETATION OF THE PARABLE
THE impassable jungle is life. The beasts are diseases. The mon-
strous woman is old age, that robs us of youth and beauty. The pit
is our mortal body. The mighty serpent within it is time (or death),
the ender of all creatures. The creeper on whose tendrils the man
hangs in the pit is the hope of life. The elephant is the year: his
six faces are the six seasons, and his twelve feet are the twelve
months. And the white and black mice that are gnawing away the
roots of the plant are the days and nights. The bees are the desires;
and the honey, the pleasures of sense.


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11487
1
PINDAR
(522-450? B. C. )
BY BASIL L. GILDERSLEEVE
INDAR, greatest of Greek lyric poets, was born at Thebes of
SUA
Boeotia, in 522 B. C. He came of a noble family, and the
aristocratic note sounds clear and shrill throughout his
poems. The family was not only noble,- it was artistic, it was
musical. The flute, or rather clarionet, was a favorite Boeotian in-
strument; and Pindar served an apprenticeship as a flute-player, as a
musical composer. Sundry stories are told
of his early career: how he was defeated
by Corinna, whose fair face and sweet Boo-
tian brogue won her the victory; and how
the same Corinna warned him against over-
crowding his poems with mythological fig-
ures, summing up her advice in the homely
proverb, "Sow with the hand and not with
the whole sack. " The period of apprentice-
ship past, he began to compose poems for
public occasions; and the fragments show
that he became a master in all the ranges
of lyric poetry, -in hymns, in pæans, in
songs for the dance, in processional songs,
choruses for virgins, songs of praise, drink-
ing songs, dithyrambs, dirges,- maintaining everywhere his eminence,
and striking at times notes that are more sympathetic to the modern
soul than his great Songs of Victory. The oldest poem that we have
of his, the tenth Pythian,-composed, according to the common com-
putation, when he was only twenty years old, in honor of a Thessa-
lian victor,-shows little trace of a 'prentice hand. From this time
forth his fame grew, and his commissions came from every part of
Greece; and as was the wont of lyric poets, he traveled far and wide
in the exercise of his art, the peer of Thessalian nobles and Sicilian
princes. Honored wherever he went, he was reverenced at home;
for he was a poet-priest, and the Blessed Ones are said to have
manifested themselves to him. When he craved of a god what was
best for man, the god sent him death, as he lay resting on the lap

PINDAR


## p. 11488 (#102) ##########################################

11488
PINDAR
of his favorite in the theatre at Argos. He cannot have long out-
lived his seventieth year.
Pindar was a proud, self-contained man, and held himself aloof
from meaner things; and this pride in his lineage and in his art, this
belief in the claims of long descent, and in the supreme perfection
of his own consecrated song, may be the reason why the modern
heart does not respond to Pindar as it does to other Greek poets—
as it does to his rival Simonides, and to his contemporary Eschy-
lus. Simonides is more tender; and Eschylus in his 'Persians' and
his 'Seven against Thebes' strikes a warlike note of patriotism, that
thrilled the Athenian theatre then and thrills us now. But Æschylus
was a Marathon man; and Pindar was bound by his people and by
his order to the cause of Thebes, which was the cause of the in-
vader. But the issue of the Persian war interpreted to Pindar the
meaning of the struggle; and his praise of Athens - "the violet-
wreathed," "the stay of Hellas". was a chaplet that the Athenians
wore proudly. The Thebans are said to have fined him heavily for
the praise of their enemy, but Athens more than made good the loss;
and long afterwards, when the Macedonian soldiery pillaged Thebes,
Alexander, grateful for a like honor which Pindar had done to an
ancestor of his,
-
་ bid spare
The house of Pindarus when temple and tower
Went to the ground. "
Pindar is known to us chiefly by his Songs of Victory, composed
in honor of the victors in the great games of Greece. The preserva-
tion of these poems is attributed to the accident of their position in
the Alexandrian collection; but one cannot suppress the feeling that
it was not accident alone that has preserved for us these charac-
teristic specimens of an unreturning past. For nothing can bring
these games back. The semblance may be there, but the spirit is
gone forever.
The origin of the games was religious, and they were
held in honor of the great divinities of Greece, - the Olympian and
Nemean in honor of Zeus, the Pythian of Apollo, the Isthmian of
Poseidon. The praise, of the gods is often the burden of the Song
of Victory. The times of the games were fixed by a sacred calen-
dar; and the prizes were simply consecrated wreaths of wild olive,
laurel, and wild celery. True, abundant honors and many privileges
awaited the victor at his home. The blessing of the gods rested on
him; he was a man of mark everywhere in Greece; and sunshine lay
thenceforth about his life. Surely reward enough for the "toil and
expense," the "expense and toil," which Pindar emphasizes so much.
Much stress is laid, and justly laid, on the athletic features of the


## p. 11489 (#103) ##########################################

PINDAR
11489
games, on the truly Greek consecration of the body, in its naked
perfection, to the service of the deity. But there vas a service of
the substance as well; and the odes are so arranged as to bring the
most expensive, the most princely, to the front. Only one of the
odes here selected deals with physical prowess.
The theme is no narrow theme, as it is handled by Pindar. The
shining forms of gods and heroes illumine the Songs of Victory;
every ode reaches back into the mythic past, and brings out of that
treasury some tale of endurance or achievement, some romantic ad-
venture, some story of love, some vision of the world beyond. Again,
the poet dominates the whole by his strong personality, by his belief
in God, by his belief in genius as the gift of God. He has a priestly
authority; he is not the mouthpiece of the people, he is in a sense
the voice of the Most High. Still, the Song of Victory does not belie
its name. The note of triumph rings through festal joy and solemn
prayer and grave counsel: "Only, the temporary victory is lifted to
the high level of the eternal prevalence of the beautiful and the good
over the foul and the base; the victor himself is transfigured into a
glorious personification of his race, and the present is reflected, mag-
nified, illumined, in the mirror of the mythic past. " This higher point
of view gives a wider sweep of vision; and in Pindar's odes the light
of a common ideal played over all the habitations of the Hellenes.
Proof of pure Hellenic blood was required of all contestants at the
great games. In Pindar's Songs of Victory the blood is transmuted
into spirit.
-
For the appreciation of the lofty and brilliant genius of Pindar,
the closest study is necessary; and comparatively few of those who
profess and call themselves Grecians are Pindaric scholars. And yet
much of his "gorgeous eloquence," as Sir Philip Sidney calls it, lies
open to the day,- the splendor of his diction, the vividness of his
imagery. Even in a translation all is not lost. Matthew Arnold
calls Pindar "the poet on whom above all other poets the power of
style seems to have exercised an inspiring and intoxicating effect";
and style cannot be transferred entire. No rendering can give the
form and hue of the Greek words, or the varied rhythm, now stately,
now impassioned, as the "Theban eagle" now soars, now swoops.
But no one can read Pindar, even in a translation, without recogniz-
ing the work of a supreme genius, who combined, as no other Greek
poet combined, opulence and elevation with swiftness and strength.
To take the odes selected here: The first Olympian is said to have
owed its position to the story which it tells of the primal chariot
race in Elis; but it holds its place by its brilliance. The second
Olympian strikes a note the world is to hear ages afterwards in the
'Divina Commedia of Dante. In the third Olympian the sustained
XX-719


## p. 11490 (#104) ##########################################

11490
PINDAR
diction matches the deep moral significance of the life of Herakles;
the seventh is as resplendent as the Island of the Rose which it cele-
brates, the Bride of the Sun; and the majestic harmonies of the first
Pythian sway the soul to-day as they did when the Doric lyre was
not a figure of speech. Pindar's noble compounds and his bold meta-
phors give splendor and vitality to his style; his narrative has a
swift and strong movement; and his moral lessons are couched in
words of oracular impressiveness. All this needs no demonstration;
and so far as details go, Pindar appeals to every lover of poetry.
And yet, as he himself has said, his song needs interpreters. His
transitions are bold, and it is hard to follow his flight. Hence he
has been set down as lawless; and modern "Pindarists" have con-
sidered themselves free from the laws of consecutive thought and the
shackles of metrical symmetry. But whatever the freedom of Pin-
dar's thought, his odes are built on the strictest principles of metrical
form; strophe is answered by antistrophe, epode responds to epode,
bar to bar. The more one studies the metres, the more one marvels
at the delicate and precise workmanship. But when one turns to the
thought, the story, then the symmetry becomes less evident - and
yet it is there. Only, the correspondence of contents to form is not
mechanically close. The most common type of the Song of Victory
is that which begins with the praise of the victor, passes over to the
myth, and returns to the victor. But victor, myth, victor, is not the
uniform order. The poet refuses to be bound by a mechanical law,
and he shifts the elements at his sovereign pleasure. The first
Pythian is not built like the first Olympian. This myth, this story,
which is found in almost every Pindaric ode, is not a mere poetical
digression, not a mere adornment of the poem. It grows out of the
theme. So in the first Olympian the kingly person of Hieron and
the scene of the victory suggest the achievement of the first master
of the great island of Pelops. In the third, the heroic figure of
Theron brings up the heroic figure of Herakles, and the reward of
the victory suggests the Quest of the Olive. The seventh Olympian,
recording a splendid career, gives it a fit setting in the story of the
victor's home, the Island of the Rose. And in the first Pythian the
crushed son of Gaia, who answers to the suppressed spirit of discord,
lay under the very Ætna whose lord is celebrated in the poem.
The historical interpretation has been overdone; and it is a mistake
to press the lines of coincidence between the figures of the myth
and the figures of the victor and his house: but it is also a mistake
to revert to the older view, and deny all vital connection between
the mythical past and the actual present.
This controversy as to the function of the myth is but a specimen
of what is found in every sphere of Pindaric study. Few of Pindar's


## p. 11491 (#105) ##########################################

PINDAR
11491
interpreters have heeded the words of the poet himself, "Measure is
best. " Ancient schemes of lyric composition have been thrust on the
fair body of the Pindaric odes, in utter disregard of the symmetry of
the members; and elaborate theories have been based on the position
of recurrent words. There has been much insistence on the golden
texts and the central truths; but unfortunately each commentator
picks out his own texts and finds his own centre. "No true art
without consciousness," says one, after Plato. "No true art without
unconsciousness," says another, after Hartmann. And the lover of
Pindar, weary of all this dispute, recalls the solemn verse, as true in
art as in religion, "No man can come to me except the Father which
hath sent me draw him. " In art as in religion, there is no true
acceptance without a "drawing" that defies analysis.
BIBLIOGRAPHY. -The best book on Pindar and his art is by Alfred
Croiset, Pindare et les Lois du Lyrisme Grec' (second edition, Paris,
1886). There is an admirable chapter on Pindar in Jebb's 'Classical
Greek Poets (1893), and an elaborate and most suggestive work by
Fraccaroli, 'Le Odi di Pindaro' (1894).
(
THE translations of the odes that have been selected for this
'Library are taken without change from the admirable version of
Ernest Myers, who has kindly given his consent to the reproduction.
One exception is made, and that in favor of Professor Newcomer's
version of the first Pythian, which is published here for the first
time, and will be welcomed by all lovers of poetry and the poet, as
the earnest of a sympathetic rendering of Pindar's Odes of Victory.
That an editor of Pindar should differ at a number of points from
any other man's translation is most natural; but it would be both
impertinent and ungrateful to insist on divergences of opinion here.
A work of art such as Myers's translation is to be changed by the
hand of the artist himself or not at all.
Bebas


## p. 11492 (#106) ##########################################

11492
PINDAR
FIRST OLYMPIAN ODE
FOR HIERON OF SYRACUSE, WINNER IN THE HORSE RACE
[Hieron won this race in B. C. 476, while at the height of his power at
Syracuse. ]
B
EST is Water of all; and Gold, as a flaming fire in the night,
shineth eminent amid lordly wealth: but if of prizes in the
games thou art fain, O my soul, to tell, then, as for no
bright star more quickening than the sun, must thou search in
the void firmament by day, so neither shall we find any games
greater than the Olympic whereof to utter our voice; for hence
cometh the glorious hymn, and entereth into the minds of the
skilled in song, so that they celebrate the son of Kronos, when
to the rich and happy hearth of Hieron they are come; for he
wieldeth the sceptre of justice in Sicily of many flocks, culling
the choice fruits of all kinds of excellence; and with the flower
of music is he made splendid, even such strains as we sing
blithely at the table of a friend.
Take from the peg the Dorian lute, if in any wise the glory
of Pherenikos at Pisa hath swayed thy soul unto glad thoughts,
when by the banks of Alpheos he ran, and gave his body un-
goaded in the course, and brought victory to his master, the
Syracusans' king, who delighteth in horses.
Bright is his fame in Lydian Pelops's colony, inhabited of
a goodly race, whose founder mighty earth-enfolding Poseidon
loved, what time from the vessel of purifying, Klotho took him.
with the bright ivory furnishment of his shoulder.
Verily many things are wondrous, and haply tales decked out
with cunning fables beyond the truth make false men's speech
concerning them. For Charis, who maketh all sweet things for
mortal men, by lending honor unto such, maketh oft the un-
believable thing to be believed; but the days that follow after
are the wisest witnesses.
Meet is it for a man that concerning gods he speak honor-
ably; for the reproach is less. Of thee, son of Tantalos, I will
speak contrariwise to them who have gone before me, and I will
tell how when thy father had bidden thee to that most seemly
feast at his beloved Sipylos, repaying to the gods their banquet,
then did he of the bright Trident, his heart vanquished by love,
snatch thee and bear thee behind his golden steeds to the house


## p. 11493 (#107) ##########################################

PINDAR
11493
of august Zeus in the highest, whither again on a like errand
came Ganymede in the after time.
But when thou hadst vanished, and the men who sought thee
long brought thee not to thy mother, some one of the envious
neighbors said secretly that over water heated to boiling, they
had hewn asunder with a knife thy limbs, and at the tables had
shared among them, and eaten, sodden fragments of thy flesh.
But to me it is impossible to call one of the blessed gods canni-
bal; I keep aloof: in telling ill tales is often little gain.
Now if any man ever had honor of the guardians of Olympus,
Tantalos was that man; but his high fortune he could not digest,
and by excess thereof won him an overwhelming woe, in that the
Father hath hung above him a mighty stone that he would fain
ward from his head, and therewithal he is fallen from joy.
This hopeless life of endless misery he endureth with other
three, for that he stole from the immortals, and gave to his fel-
lows at a feast, the nectar and ambrosia whereby the gods had
made him incorruptible. But if a man thinketh that in doing
aught he shall be hidden from God, he erreth.
Therefore also the immortals sent back again his son to be
once more counted with the short-lived race of men.
And he,
when toward the bloom of his sweet youth the down began to
shade his darkening cheek, took counsel with himself speedily
to take to him for his wife the noble Hippodameia from her
Pisan father's hand.