Within a certain forest was a broad expanse of lake. There lived a king-swan named Passion, who spent his days in a great variety of pastimes. One day death, fatal death visited him in the person of an owl. And the swan said: “This is a lonely wood. Where do you come from?” The owl replied: “I came because I heard of your virtues. Furthermore,

In search of virtue roaming

The wide world through,

No virtues being greater,

I come to you.

That I must cling in friendship

To you, is sure:

The impure turns, attaining

The Ganges, pure.

And again:

The conch was bone that Vishnu’s hand

Has purified:

For contact with the righteous lends

A noble pride.”

After this address, the swan gave his assent, in the words: “My excellent friend, dwell with me as you like by this broad lake in this pleasant wood.” So their time was spent in friendly diversions

But one day the owl said: “I am going to my own home, which is called Lotus Grove. If you set any value on me and feel any affection, you must not fail to pay a visit as my guest.” With these words he went home.

Now as time passed, the swan reflected: “I have grown old, living in this spot, and I do not know a single other region. So now I will go to visit my dear friend, the owl. There I shall find a brand-new recreation ground and new kinds of food, both hard and soft.”

After these reflections, he went to visit the owl. At first he could not find him in Lotus Grove, and when, after a minute search, he discovered him, there was the poor creature crouching in an ugly hole, for he was blind in the daytime. But Passion called: “My dear fellow, come out! I am your dear friend the swan, come to pay you a visit.”

And the owl replied: “I do not stir by day. You and I will meet when the sun has set.” So the swan waited a long time, met the owl at night, and after giving the conventional information about his health, being wearied by his journey, he went to sleep on the spot.

Now it happened that a large commercial caravan had encamped at that very lake. At dawn the leader rose and had the signal of departure given by conch. This the owl answered with a loud, harsh hoot, then dived into a hole in the river-bank. But the swan did not stir. Now the evil omen so disturbed the leader’s spirit that he gave orders to a certain archer who could aim by sound. This archer strung his powerful bow, drew an arrow as far as his ear, and killed the swan, who was resting near the owl’s nest.

“And that is why I say:

Harsh talk, untimely action,......

and the rest of it.”

And Lively continued: “Why, our master Rusty was all honey at first, but at the last his purpose turns to poison. Ah, yes!

He compliments you to your face:

His whispered slanders never stop;

Avoid a friend like that. He is

A poison-jug with cream on top.

“Yes, I have learned by experience the truth of the well-known verse:

He lifts his hands to see you standing there;

His eyes grow moist; he offers half his chair;

He hugs you warmly to his eager breast;

In kindly talk and question finds no rest;

His skill is wondrous in deceptive tricks;

Honey without, within the poison sticks:

What play is this, what strange dramatic turns,

That every villain, like an actor, learns?

At first rogues’ friendship glitters bright

With service, flattery, delight;

Thence, in its middle journey; shoot

Gay flowers of speech that fail to fruit;

Its final goal is treason, shame

Disgust, and slanders that defame:

Alas! Who made the cursed things?

Its one foul purpose is to sting.

And again:

They bow abjectly; leap to greet

You with their speech seductive-sweet;

Pursue and hug you day by day;

Of deep devotion make display:

All praise your virtue. Never one

Finds time to do what should be done.

“Woe is me! How can I, a creature herbivorous, consort with this lion who devours raw flesh? There is wisdom in the saying:

Where wealth is very much the same,

And similar the family fame,

Marriage or friendship is secure;

But not between the rich and poor.

And there is a proverb:

The sun, already setting, shows

His final flaming power,

And still the honey-thirsty bee

Explores the lotus-flower,

Forgets that it will prove a trap

That shuts at set of sun:

Ambition, thirsting for reward,

Is blind to dangers run.

Abandoning the lotus-bloom

With all its sweet content,

The jasmine’s natural perfume

And luxury of scent,

The water-bees seek toilsome food,

On ichor-sipping bent:

So men reject the easy good,

In rogues o’erconfident.

The bees that, too adventurous,

A novel honey seek

In springtime ichor glistening on

The elephant-monarch’s cheek,

When, tossed by wind from flapping ears,

They tumble to the ground,

Remember then what gentle sport

In lotus-cups is found.

Yet, after all, virtues involve corresponding defects. For

The fruit-tree’s branch by very wealth

Of fruit is bended low;

The peacock’s feathered pride compels

A sluggish gait and slow;

The blooded horse that wins his race,

Must like a cow be led:

The good in goodness often find

An enemy to dread.

Where Jumna’s waves roll blue

With sands of sapphire hue,

Black serpents have their lair;

And who would hunt them there,

But that a jewel’s bright star

From each hood gleams afar?

By virtue rising, all

By that same virtue fall.

The man of virtue commonly

Is hateful to the king,

While riches to the scamps and fools

Habitually cling:

The ancient chant ‘By virtue great

Is man’ has run to seed;

The world takes rare and little note

Of any plucky deed.

Sad, Shamefaced lions fail to rage,

Their spirit mastered