44 PADUMĀWATI. [89-90 89. So the maiden made up her mind and put the parrot in a place of safety); and at even, when the King returned, he sought for him. The Queen replied in angry tones, 'A cat hath carried off thy parrot. I asked him about the Padmini of Simhala, and he replied “What art thou, O Nāgini? She is like the day and thou art as the dark night. Where spring is ever bloom- ing, who (careth for) a garden of the thorny karila ?1 What is thy husband but the king of the night? Doth an owl know the nature of the day time?" So, what is that bird but a pawn in a fort, whose little tongue speaketh such mighty words? Whene'er he speaketh, he distilleth blood. Whether he eat or be without food, his face is red. Set not a parrot on thine head, even though it be exceeding fair. Why shouldst thou wear a golden earring, if it tear thine ear?'4 90. The king heard these words and became desolate, as Vikramab lamented in his heart. "That Hirā-maņi, was my scholar-parrot, from whose mouth distilled nectar when he spake. A scholar whose sorrows have been subdued, of blameless life. A scholar from whom fell no guile. A scholar i Capparis aphylla, Roxb., a thorny leafless plant which grows in the desert. 2 Göti, which I have translated 'pawn,' is a wooden or stone back-gammon piece, or such like. In a great castle, such a petty thing is of no account. S Alluding to the red colour of the parrot's face. His face is ever red, whether you feed him or not. A red face implies anger. Hence he is angry even when you treat him kindly and feed him. 4 This is a well-known proverb, phata pare waha sõna, jehi sē tūļē kāna. 6 Regarding Vikrama, See vv. xvii, and Ixxv. The story of Vikrama and the Parrot is as follows. He had a parrot named, like the parrot of the text, Hira-mani, who one day obtained leave to take a holiday in the forest, promising to bring back an "amara-phala, or fruit of the Tree of Life, the eating of which prevented old-age and death. The leave was granted, and after a time, the parrot returned from his travels with an amara-phala in his beak, which he presented to his master and mistress. The king gave it to his gardener, with instructions to plant it and grow a fruit-bearing tree from it. This the gardener did, and in time it spronted, and began to bear fruit. The king gave orders that as soon as a frnit ripened and fell from the tree, it was to be given to his queen. It happened that, at length, one night, a ripened fruit did fall, and, that attracted by its scent, a poisonous snake approached it and licked it all over. The fruit thus became poisoned, and lost its own property. In the morning the gardener picked it up and presented it to Her Majesty. As it was a new kind of fruit, she first fed a dog experimentally with it. There- mpon, the dog, there and then, fell down dead. The queen enraged with the parrot for bringing so poisonous a fruit into the house, had the bird killed at once, and told the king what had occurred. Some time after, the old wife of the gardener had a quarrel with him, and determined to commit suicide. As the easiest way of doing this, she decided to eat a fruit of the terrible poison tree, the seed of which had been brought by the parrot. She went and ate one, and immediately became yonng and beautiful. Her old husband went ont searching for her, and at length found her under the tree, and, to his amazement, entirely changed in appearance. She told him what she had done, and what the consequences had been, so he took another fruit himself, and equally immedintely, became young and hand- some. Afterwards, when he brought the customary morning basket of fruit to the king, the Intter noticed his good looks, and asked and was told the reason. Then the king knew that his parrot Hira-maņi had, after all, been faithful, and that he had been unjustly put to death by the queen. Therenpon, he lamented so much that the phrase "Lamentations like those of Vikrama' has become a proverb.
