The disciple[1] discerneth this earth aright And the Realm of Death and the World of Light; The disciple chooseth the Way Of Righteousness well displayed, As a skilled hand chooseth a flower gay.

46.

Seeing this body as like unto foam, Illusive, by insight of wisdom alone, Scattering Death's flower-tipp'd shafts, He shall pa.s.s to a realm where Death is unknown.

47.

Culling life's blossoms here and there, With his mind entangled by pleasures' delay, Death comes and carries him off, As a flood sweeps a slumbering village away.

48.

Culling life's blossoms here and there, With his mind entangled by pleasures' delay, Insatiate in desire, Death makes him his bondsman and takes him away.

49.

As a bee on the wing flits from flower to flower, Not harming the scent or the blossom's hue, And is gone taking only the taste, Let the sage his way through the village pursue.

50.

Not with other men's faults and other men's failings, Nor the things they have done, nor the things left undone, Should the wise man be concerned; Let him look to his own things done and undone.

51.

Fair is the flow'r with its hue and its colour; But if it lack odour its beauty is hollow.

So fair are the words well-spoken, But how empty the words which deeds do not follow.

52.

Fair is the flow'r with its hue and its colour; But if it have odour its beauty's not hollow; So fair are the words well-spoken; Well-spoken indeed are the words which deeds follow.

53.

As one from a heap of gathered flowers Makes many a garland, many a crown; So by a mortal being Many a seed of good may be sown.

54.

The odour of flowers cannot prevail 'Gainst the wind, nor of sandal and _tagara_[2] fair; 'Gainst the wind goes the odour of saints; The odour of saints goeth everywhere.

55.

Sweet is the sandal and sweet is the _tagara_, And sweet of the lily the odour faint; But of all sweet-savoured things Sweetest by far is the scent of the saint.

56.

How small a thing is the odour of wood Of the sandal or jasmine! How poor is their scent!

Yet the odour of saints prevails E'en 'mongst the G.o.ds, most excellent.

57.

Men who live righteously, men who live heedfully, Perfect in wisdom, rebirth have transcended: Though he search for the prints of their feet, Death cannot find them:[3] their journey is ended.

58-9.

On a heap of dung by the high road hurled, As a lily may bloom and grow, Delighting the mind with its fragrance pure: So, lit by the wisdom of those who know, 'mid those who on the dung-hill grow[4]

A disciple shines out in the darkened world.

[1] "Disciple," _sekho_, one who has entered the Path, but has not become Arahat, who is _asekho_, Master.

[2] _Tagara_, an aromatic shrub.

[3] An Arahat at death leaves no _skandhas_ or basis for another birth.

Death, _Mara_, is pictured as hunting for a man's "rebirth consciousness". Cf. _The Book of the Kindred Sayings_ p. 152 (Pali Text Translation Series).

[4] cf. Shakespeare, Henry V, I,1, 60.

'The strawberry grows underneath the nettle, And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality'.

CHAPTER FIVE.

FOOLS.

60.

Long is the night to him that is waking, Long is a league to the traveller worn, Long is the coil of births For fools that know not the truth of the Norm.

61.

If one find not a comrade to join him in travel.

Either like unto self or better than self, It is safer to push on alone; What fellowship can there be with a fool?

62.

"I am father of sons! I am owner of wealth!"

Thinks the fool in his folly and thereat is troubled.

He himself is not owner of self; Much less is he owner of sons and of wealth.

63.

Wise indeed is he that knoweth his folly; Fool indeed is the fool that thinks himself wise.

64.

Tho' a fool in his folly sit all his life long By the side of a wise man, he never gets wiser, For he knows not the Norm and its worth, As the spoon never knoweth the taste of the broth.

65.

But a wise man that sits by the wise but a minute, Quickly learns of the Norm and its worth, As the tongue quickly savours the taste of the broth.

66.

Fools fare up and down with themselves for their foe, And work evil deeds whose fruit will be bitter;

67.

Ill-done is the deed that brings sorrow in doing, Whose fruit they will meet with tears and annoy;

68.

Well done is the deed that brings pleasure in doing, Whose fruit they will welcome with gladness and joy.

69.

"O! how sweet!" thinks the fool, ere his wicked deed ripens.

When his wicked deed ripens he knows what is sorrow.

70.