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Then the Tathagata at that time pronounced these verses:
While seeking supreme enlightenment,
I gave my body for many eons.
Just as I became king or prince,
So I completely gave my body.
As I recall my past rebirths,
Once there was a king called Maharatha
Who had a greatly generous son
Called Mahasattva, the sublime.
And Mahasattva had two brothers,
Mahapranada and Mahadeva by name.
These brothers ventured into a thick forest
And saw there a tigress tortured by hunger.
Agonizing was Mahasattva s compassion for this being:
So famished is this tigress with hunger and thirst,
She will surely eat her own cubs.
Thus, I shall offer my body to her.
Mahasattva, the son of Maharatha,
Saw the famished tigress and her cubs;
With compassionate thought to save them
He fell down the mountain slope.
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The earth with its mountains shook
Scattering various flocks of birds
And terrifying herds of deer
And this world remained shrouded in darkness.
Mahapranada and Mahadeva, his two brothers,
Looked for him in that great forest.
Failing to find Mahasattva,
They mindlessly ran about.
Overcome by grief, their hearts filled with pain,
They wandered about the forest;
Tears streamed down their faces
As they searched for their brother.
Mahapranada and Mahadeva, the two young princes
Came close to the spot where the weak tigress lay.
They saw the tigress and her cubs,
Their tiger mouths covered with blood.
On the ground were a few drops of his blood;
Some bones and some hair were scattered about.
When they beheld the earth stained with blood,
The minds of the princes were ruined, without thought.
The two princes swooned and fell to the ground,
Their bodies covered with dust and with dirt.
Their entourage of attendants too
Cried lamentations and were overcome with grief.
Swiftly sprinkling water upon them,
With arms upraised, they wept.
The beloved queen,
The mother who bore him,
Sat in ease in the palace,
Accompanied by five hundred women.
The moment he fell, milk streamed from her breasts
And immediately turned to blood.
Her body and limbs were racked by sharp pain
As if they were pierced by pins.
Deeply distressed, she was pierced by the arrows of sorrow.
Her heart flooded with grief, she approached the king.
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Wretched, weeping before the king,
She said this to King Maharatha:
Listen to me, King, lord of humans:
My body burns with the fire of grief;
Milk flowing from the tips of my breasts
Immediately oozed as blood.
My body stings as if pierced by needles;
My heart is next to bursting.
Such are the signs I shall not see my sons again.
Such is the fate of my children.
Be compassionate; give me my life.
Today, in my dream, I saw three young doves;
One dove, my young son sweet and kind
Was snatched by a hawk in that place.
The sorrow of such dreams has entered my heart;
My mind is scorched by distress.
Such is the fate of my sons;
Before long I shall succumb to grief;
O Compassionate One, give me my life.
Having spoken, the chief queen
Fainted and fell to the ground.
Her mind was senseless, deprived of memory,
And her thoughts failed.
Upon seeing the sublime queen
Fainted and fallen on the ground,
The whole crowd in that palace too
Wept and wailed in pitiful voices.
At once, the lord king
Was overcome by the loss of his son;
His ministers and attendants too
Set out to search for the princes.
People all over that city
Came out of their various homes.
Crying and with tears flowing,
They asked after Mahasattva:
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Is he alive or dead?
Where has Mahasattva gone?
Today will we glimpse that one
Who is beloved and pleasing to see?
Suddenly the silent wind of grief
Fierce and without noise,
Blew throughout that region;
Yet due to limitless magic, there was a sharp sound.
Then King Maharatha rose up,
Oppressed with grief and crying.
He sprinkled water upon his sublime queen,
Who had fainted and fallen on the ground.
Regaining her senses, the queen arose;
Her mind forlorn, she asked,
Are my sons dead or do they live?
Then King Maharatha
Said to the chief queen:
The ministers and the attendants too
Have gone to search for the princes.
Do not be downcast in mind.
Do not be sorrowful in heart.
In this way, having comforted the queen,
King Maharatha came out of that royal palace.
Surrounded by a host of ministers
He was crying, weak in mind
Feeble in body and overcome by grief.
Many hundreds of beings too
Cried with tears falling.
They ran out of that excellent city
To search for the young princes.
Seeing the king emerge from the palace,
Thus, they followed after him.
The moment the king left that city
To look for his beloved sons
He gazed with staring eyes in every direction.
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He saw a man coming his way,
His head shaven, his limbs smeared with blood;
His clothes covered with dust and dirt,
His face was sodden with tears.
A fierce grief took hold
Of King Maharatha s heart.
His face covered with tears, he wept.
Standing with arms upraised, he lamented.
Then a certain minister came
Quickly and swiftly from afar.
Coming close to King Maharatha,
The lord of men, he spoke:
O lord of men, do not be sad.
Your charming sons are alive!
Before long in your presence
You will see your beloved sons.
The king continued upon his way
And then a second minister came to him;
Clad in dusty and sweat-sodden clothes,
In a tearful voice, he said to the king:
O great king, two of your sons are alive,
Scorched by the fire of grief.
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