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position of the kind in existence, we cannot but regard this poem as a most remarkable literary product. The gambler deplores his inability to throw off the spell of the dice, though he sees the ruin they are bringing on him and his household:—
- Downward they fall, then nimbly leaping upward,
- They overpower the man with hands, though handless.
- Cast on the board like magic bits of charcoal,
- Though cold themselves, they burn the heart to ashes.
- It pains the gambler when he sees a woman,
- Another's wife, and their well-ordered household:
- He yokes these brown steeds early in the morning,
- And, when the fire is low, sinks down an outcast.
- "Play not with dice, but cultivate thy cornfield;
- Rejoice in thy goods, deeming them abundant:
- There are thy cows, there is thy wife, O gambler."
- This counsel Savitṛi the kindly gives me.
We learn here that the dice (aksha) were made of the nut of the Vibhīdaka tree (Terminalia bellerica), which is still used for the purpose in India.
The other three poems of this group may be regarded as the forerunners of the sententious poetry which flourished so luxuriantly in Sanskrit literature. One of them, consisting only of four stanzas (ix. 112), describes in a moralising strain of mild humour how men follow after gain in various ways:—
- The thoughts of men are manifold,
- Their callings are of diverse kinds:
- The carpenter desires a rift,
- The leech a fracture wants to cure.
- A poet I; my dad's a leech;
- Mama the upper millstone grinds:
- With various minds we strive for wealth,
- As ever seeking after kine.
