And sacrifices countless, still the truth
Would far outweigh them all. Why need I waste
My words of loving-kindness upon thee--
An ill-intentioned, false, ignoble man.
Thou art a king,--so should the truth prevail
With thee. Yet hear me;--if the offering
Be still unpaid when th' evening's sun has sunk
Behind the western mountain to his rest,
My curse shall smite thee." Speaking words like these
The Brahman left him; and the king, o'ercome
With fear--a fugitive--robbed of his wealth--
Degraded to unfathomable depths--
The victim of his evil creditor--
Heard once again the counsel of his wife:
"O king! sell __me__! nor let the fiery curse
Dissolve thy being!" Urged repeatedly,
The king at length replied: "Most loving one!
What the most wicked man could hardly do,
That same will I:--and I will sell my wife.
Alas! that I should utter such a word!"
And going with his wife into the town--
Eyes dimmed with tears, voice choked with grief--he cried:
"Come hither, townsmen! hearken unto me!
A wretch! inhuman! savage as a fiend!
I offer here my wife for sale, and yet
I live! Here is a female slave! Who buys?
Make haste and speak." "The female slave is mine!"
(So spake an ancient Brahman to the king.)
"Money I have in heaps, and I will pay
You well for her. My wife is delicate;