placed on a lofty stage, handsomely decorated. Round about the king stood ministers, nobles, citizens, doorkeepers of the palace, &c.
While all this was going on, not far off the king there stood a certain "janitor," panting, sobbing, and wailing. The Bodhisat perceived him, and said,—"Friend warder, as my father is no longer alive, all the people are highly delighted, and go about enjoying the festival, while you are standing there weeping and wailing. Is it forsooth because my father was kind and agreeable to you?" Thus inquiring he spake the following gâthas:—
"King Pingala a tyrant was,
Who all men did oppress.
Full glad are they that he is dead,
And gone away below.
Why weepest thou, O warder strong?
Whence comes thy grief to-day?
Was he, the cruel 'tawny-eyed,'
So kind and dear to thee?"
On hearing these words the "doorkeeper" replied,—"It's not because Mahâpingala is dead that I am weeping so bitterly. My head would fain get some rest from the blows I've had on it ; for, when king Pingala was leaving or entering his palace, on each occasion he used to bring down his fist eight times on my poor pate just as if he were striking it with a blacksmith's hammer. It's true he's gone to another world, and he'll bring down his fists upon the head of Yama (hell's guardian) just as he did on my skull. Then they'll say to him, 'You are causing us no end of annoyance, we can't stand it any longer,' so they'll e'en let him go, and bring him here again; and he'll make my sconce feel the weight of his fists again. So you see I am weeping through sheer fear and for nothing else." While making the matter clear he uttered the following gâthas:—
"Not dear to me was Pingala,
Who made life hard to bear.
I fear me much lest he come back
And cause my head to ache.
From hence he's gone to see death's king,
And may him sore annoy;
But if he does grim Yama soon
Will send him back to earth."