Mârkandeya Purâna, books 7, 8 | Page 3

been
cast forth.
Who now will sanctify the Soma-juice
With prayers and
hymns, at the great sacrifice,
That we may drink it with rejoicing
hearts?"
Then, having heard these words, the Brâhman turned
Upon the

Višvedevâs; and, in wrath
Exceeding hot, he spake a fearful curse:

"You shall be cast down from the height of heaven,
And live as men."
The curse had hardly passed
His lips, when filled with pity for their
fate,
The sage yet further added: "you shall live
Indeed as men, but
yet, there shall be born
To you no son, nor shall you know the state

Of marriage. Envy, love, and wrath shall ne'er
Hold sway o'er you:
and when the appointed time
Has past, you shall re-enter once again

The courts of heaven, and wear again the form
Which you had
lost." The Višvedevâs then
Came down from heaven, and, clothed in
human form,
Were born as men, the sons of Pritha, wife
Of
Pa.n.du
/. Therefore those five Pâ.n.davas--
Mighty in war--by
Višvâmitra cursed,
Knew not the state of marriage. Thou hast heard

The tale of Pa.n.du
/'s sons; thy question, too,
Of fourfold import
has been answered.
I pray thee, say, what further would'st thou hear?
BOOK VIII.
Said Jaimîni: An answer ye have found
To all my questions; and
indeed have filled
Me full of deepest interest. Oh! I long
To hear
yet more! Alas! that saintly king!
What grief he suffered! Did he e'er
attain
To any comfort answering to his woe?
Noblest of Birds! Oh
tell me this, I pray.
The Holy Birds continued: Then the king,
O'ercome with grief and
pain, hearing the words
Of Višvâmitra, with his wife and son

Journeyed along, dragging his weary steps.
At length the holy place
appeared in view--
The shrine of Šiva; thus within himself,
He said:
"Benares, sacred to the god,
Lies now before me; there shall I find
rest,
For there man has no power." The king approached
The gates
on foot: lo! at the entry stood
The Brâhman Višvâmitra. Mighty Saint!

The king, his hands in supplication joined,
With humble reverence,
said: "Here is my life,
My wife, my son, I offer all to thee;
Accept, I
pray, the offering! or choose
Whatever else thou wouldest!" But the
sage
Replied: "The month is past! most saintly king!
Give me the

present for the sacrifice--
The offering thou hast promised." "One
half-day
As yet remains before the month be past,
Oh Brâhman of
surpassing piety,
And penances unfading. Wait, I pray,
A few short
hours." Then Višvâmitra said:
"So be it, king! once more I will return,

But if the offering be not duly paid,
Before the sinking of this
evening's sun,
My curse shall smite thee." And the priest
Departed,
while the king, in anxious thought,
Debated thus: "How shall I make
the gift?
The promised gift? where are my friends? my wealth?
I
may not beg for alms; how can I then
Fulfil my vow? Nor even in the
world
Beyond shall I find rest. Destruction waits,
If with my
promise unfulfilled, I pass
From hence. A robber of the holy saints;

I shall become the lowest of the low.
Nay, I will sell myself! and, as a
slave,
Redeem my promise." Then the queen, in tears
Bewildered,
and afflicted, lost in thought,
With face cast down, "Maintain thy
truth," she said,
"Most mighty prince! Oh! let not doubt prevail!

The man devoid of truth is to be shunned
Like contact with the dead.
The highest law
Declares, that inward truth and faithfulness
Must
be maintained. Burnt sacrifices, alms,
The study of the scriptures,
penances,
Are counted not for righteousness to him
Whose word is
faithless. Listen! noble prince!
Is it not written in the sacred law:

'The wise attain Salvation through the truth,
While lies and falsehood
are destruction's way
To men of low and evil minds.' There lived,

'Tis said, a king upon the earth, by whom
The kingly sacrifice--burnt
offerings too,
Were offered in abundance. That same king
Fell once
from truthfulness, and by that fall,
He lost his righteousness, and
forfeited
His place in heaven. Prince! I have borne a son"--

Her
utterance failed her, issuing forth in nought
But sighs and
lamentations. Then the king,
With eyes o'erflowing, said, "Behold thy
son!
He stands beside thee! cast away thy grief!
Tell me what
presses on thee." Said the queen,
"Prince, I have borne a son; and
sons are born
To none but worthy women. This my son
Shall take
me--he shall offer me for sale--
Then with the money gained, pay
thou the priest
The promised offering." Hearing these words,
He

fell down fainting. When his sense returned,
Filled with exceeding
pain, the king burst forth,
Lamenting: "This, alas! most loving one!

Is hardly to be framed in words, much less
Be carried out in deed.
Alas! alas!"--
His spirit fled again, and to the earth
He fell
unconscious. Overcome with grief,
The queen exclaimed, filled with
compassion: "King!
How art thou fallen from thy high estate!
The
ground is now thy resting-place, whom once
A gorgeous couch
received. Lo! this my lord,
By whom wealth, honour, power, are
freely given
An offering to the Brâhman--see, he lies
Insensate on
the ground. Ye gods of heaven!
Tell me, I pray you, has this noble
king,
Equal to gods in rank, committed sin
Against you, that he lies
thus overcome
With woe?" Then fell the queen, bereft of sense

Upon the earth, o'erwhelmed with