Page:Little Clay Cart (Ryder 1905).djvu/179

P. 241.19] The very clouds of heaven wet not you;

Your lips are like the blue-jay's wing-tip worn,

Yes, full as fickle with their speech untrue,

And like the winter lotus lustre-lorn.

Judge. [Aside.]

Take the Himalayan hills within your hand,

And swim from ocean strand to ocean strand,

And hold within your grasp the fleeting wind:

Then may you think that Chārudatta sinned.

[Aloud.] This is the noble Chārudatta. How could he commit this crime? [He repeats the verse "A countenance like his:" page 141.]

Sansthānaka. Why thish partiality in a lawshuit?

Judge. Away, you fool!

Illiterate, you gloss the Sacred Law,

And still your tongue uninjured find?

The midday sun with steadfast eye you saw,

And are not straightway stricken blind?

You thrust your hand into the blazing fire,

And draw it forth, unscathed and sound?

Drag Chārudatta's virtue in the mire,

Nor sink beneath this yawning ground?

How could the noble Chārudatta commit a crime?

Of all the riches of the mighty sea

Only the swelling waters now are left,

Because, without consideration, he—

For others' good—himself of all has reft.

And should this high-souled man, this store-house where

All gems of virtue gather and unite,

For lucre's sake, so foul a trespass dare

That in it even his foe could not delight?

Mother. You scoundrel! When the golden casket that was left