The Tigress
The King of the Sibis
Small Portion of Gruel
Head of a Guild
The Invincible One
The Hare
The Sage Agastya
Maitribala
Prince Visvantara
The Sacrifice
Lord of the Devas
The Brahman
Unmadayanti
Suparaga
Lord of Fishes
The Quail's Young
The Story of the Jar
The Childless One
The Lotus Stalks
The Treasurer
Kuddabodhi
The Holy Swan
Mahabodhi
The Great Ape
Sarabha
The Ruru Deer
The Monkey Chief
Kshantivadin
The Brahmaloka Inhabitant
The Elephant
Sutasoma
Ayogriha
The Buffalo
The Woodpecker

Adapted from the 19th century translation by J. S Speyer

As the impetuous fire approached and was about to seize the nest, he addressed the flames with the following words:

"My feet are not strong enough to deserve that name, nor are my wings able to fly, and the disturbance caused by thee has put to flight my parents and siblings. Nothing worth offering to a guest like thee is to be found here. For this reason it becomes thee to turn back from hence, O Agni."

When the Great Being had spoken these words, hallowed by the power of Truth, the fire, though stirred by the wind, and though raging in dry underwood mixed with very arid grasses, abated suddenly as if it had reached a swollen river, instead of encountering a mere utterance of speech.

Not even fire is able to surpass speech that has been purified by truth. Having this in mind, one must addict one's self to speaking the truth. This will be taught as follows.

Once the Bodhisattva lived in a part of the forest as a young quail. He had come out of the egg some nights before, and could not yet fly, his tender wings having still to grow both in height and in width. As for his very small and weak body, the different limbs--principal and minor--were hardly discernible. So he dwelt with his numerous brothers in the nest that his parents had built with great care and made impervious by a strong covering of grass. This nest was placed on a creeper within a thicket.

Yet still in this existence, the Bodhisattva had not lost his consciousness of the Law, and so refrained from feeding on such living beings as his father and mother offered to them. For his sustenance, he partook of the vegetable food that his parents brought back to the nest: grass seeds, figs of the banyan tree, and the like.

In consequence of this coarse and insufficient nourishment, his body did not thrive nor would his wings develop. The other young quails on the contrary who fed on everything that was offered to them and so became strong and developed full-grown wings. For this, indeed, is an invariable rule:

He who, not anxious about the precepts of the Law, eats everything, will thrive at his ease, but such a one as seeks for his livelihood in accordance with the precepts and is careful about the choice of his food will endure pain in this world.

While the birds were all living in this manner, a great forest-conflagration took place not far from their nest. It was characterized by an incessant tremendous noise, by the appearance of clouds of rising smoke, and by flying sparks of fire, which scattered about from the line of flames. This fire, which caused terror in the the hearts of the animals that lived in the forest, was also a ruin to the groves and thickets there.

Excited by the whirling of the wind, the fire appeared to perform manifold and different figures of dance. Agitating its wide-outstretched flame-arms, the fire leaped and shook its disheveled smoke-hair and its crackling took away the courage and strength from all those animals and plants that resided in its path.

As if in wrath, the fire jumped onto the grasses, which trembled under the violent touch of the fierce wind and seemed to take to flight. It covered them with its glittering sparks, and burnt them to a crisp.

Yea, it seemed as if the forest itself uttered strong roars of pain. Crowds of birds flew about terror-stricken and alarmed and terrified quadrupeds roamed about on all sides of the forest, which was enveloped by thick smoke and the sharp noise of the fire's incessant crackling.

The conflagration pushed forward as if pressed on by the violent wind and following the grasses and shrubs reached at last the vicinity of the nest full of baby quails. Uttering confused and discordant shrieks of fear, the baby quails, each caring for himself and none for the rest, suddenly flew up all together. But due to the great weakness of his body and because he had as yet no wings, the Bodhisattva was unable to join them. Nevertheless, the Great Being knew his power and was not at all disturbed.

As the impetuous fire approached and was about to seize the nest, the Bodhisattva addressed the flames with the following words:

"My feet are not strong enough to deserve that name, nor are my wings able to fly, and the disturbance caused by thee has put to flight my parents and siblings. Nothing worth offering to a guest like thee is to be found here. For this reason it becomes thee to turn back from hence, O Agni."

When the Great Being had spoken these words, hallowed by the power of Truth, the fire, though stirred by the wind, and though raging in dry underwood mixed with very arid grasses, abated suddenly as if it had reached a swollen river, instead of encountering a mere utterance of speech.

Still up to this day any forest-conflagration, reaching that famous place in the Himalaya--however high its flames may rise by the power of the wind--will lessen its fire and slacken its rage, in much the same way as a serpent can be charmed by a magic spell.

For what reason, then, has this tale been adduced? It will be said:

As little as the sea with its rolling billows will transgress the shore, or he who loves Truth--the discipline ordained by the Lord of Munis--so little even is fire able to transgress the command of the veracious. For this reason one must never leave Truth.

In this manner, then, not even fire is able to surpass speech that has been purified by truth. Having this in view, one must addict one's self to speaking the truth.

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