So in the morning the Brahman took milk again, went to the spot, and called out, in an effort to win the snake's confidence: "My son met the death that suited his intelligence." Then the snake said:
The lighted funeral pile you may
Break up and fling apart;
But love, when torn and patched again,
Lives in an aching heart.
"Thus, when he is dead, you will without effort enjoy a thornless kingdom."
Having listened to this proposal, the king asked Fierce-Eye: "My worthy sir, what is your opinion?" And Fierce-Eye said: "O King, his advice is heartless. For one does not kill a suppliant. No doubt you have heard the old story:
The dove (there mentioned) entertained
His suppliant foeman slaughter-stained;
Paid honor due, his guest to greet;
And sacrificed himself for meat."
"How was that?" asked Foe-Crusher. And Fierce-Eye told the story of
THE SELF-SACRIFICING DOVE
A ghastly fowler plied his trade
Of horror in a forest; made
All living creatures hold their breath:
He seemed to them the god of death.
He had no comrade on the earth,
No friend, no relative by birth.
They all renounced him; he had made
Them do so by his horrid trade.
