tain rest, I must once more let go those following me, and
seek other disciples; straighten my head and gaze with my full eyes;
anoint my lips and cleanse my teeth; cover my shoulders and make bright
my face, smooth my tongue and make it pliable. Thus, O excellently
marked sir! fully drinking at the fountain of the water you give, I
shall escape from the unfathomable depths. In the world nought is
comparable to this, that which old men and Rishis have not known, that
shall I know and obtain."

Bodhisattva having listened to these words, left the company of the
Rishis, whilst they all, turning round him to the right, returned to
their place.

The General Grief of the Palace

Kandaka leading back the horse, opening the way for his heart's sorrow,
as he went on, lamented and wept: unable to disburden his soul. First of
all with the royal prince, passing along the road for one night, but now
dismissed and ordered to return. As the darkness of night closed on him,
irresolute he wavered in mind. On the eighth day approaching the city,
the noble horse pressed onwards, exhibiting all his qualities of speed;
but yet hesitating as he looked around and beheld not the form of the
royal prince; his four members bent down with toil, his head and neck
deprived of their glossy look, whinnying as he went on with grief, he
refused night and day his grass and water, because he had lost his lord,
the deliverer of men. Returning thus to Kapilavastu, the whole country
appeared withered and bare, as when one comes back to a deserted
village; or as when the sun hidden behind Sumeru causes darkness to
spread over the world. The fountains of water sparkled no more, the
flowers and fruits were withered and dead, the men and women in the
streets seemed lost in grief and dismay. Thus Kandaka with the white
horse went on sadly and with slow advance, silent to those inquiring,
wearily progressing as when accompanying a funeral; so they went on,
whilst all the spectators seeing Kandaka, but not observing the royal
Sakya prince, raised piteous cries of lamentation and wept; as when the
charioteer returned without Rama.

Then one by the side of the road, with his body bent, called out to
Kandaka: "The prince, beloved of the world, the defender of his people,
the one you have taken away by stealth, where dwells he now?" Kandaka,
then, with sorrowful heart, replied to the people and said: "I with
loving purpose followed after him whom I loved; 'tis no