Panchatantra: The Winning of Friends

From The Panchatantra of Vishnu Sharma, translated by Arthur W. Ryder (1925).

The Winning of Friends

[The frametale for Book II of the Panchatantra.]

The first verse runs:

The mouse and turtle, deer and crow,
Had first-rate sense and learning; so,
Though money failed and means were few,
They quickly put their purpose through.

"How was that?" asked the princes. And Vishnusharman told the following story.

In the southern country is a city called Maidens' Delight. Not far away was a very lofty banyan tree with mighty trunk and branches, which gave refuge to all creatures. As the verse puts it:

Blest be the tree whose every part
Brings joy to many a creature's heart -
Its green roof shelters birds in rows,
While deer beneath its shadow doze;
Its flowers are sipped by tranquil bees,
And insects throng its cavities,
While monkeys in familiar mirth
Embrace its trunk. That tree has worth;
But others merely cumber earth.

In the tree lived a crow named Swift. One morning he started toward the city in search of food. But he saw a hunter who lived in the neighbourhood and who was already near the tree, approaching to trap birds. He was hideous in person, flat of hand and foot, bare to the calf of the leg, dreadfully ugly of complexion, had bloodshot eyes, was accompanied by dogs, wore his hair in a knot, carried snare and club in his hand - why spin it out? He seemed a second god of destruction, noose in hand; the incarnation of evil; the heart of unrighteousness; the teacher of every sin; the bosom friend of death.

When Swift saw him, he was disturbed in spirit and reflected: "What does he mean to do, the sinner? To hurt me? Or has he some other purpose?" And he clung to the hunter's heels, being filled with curiosity.

Now the hunter picked a spot, spread a snare, scattered grain, and hid not far away. But the birds who lived there were held in check by Swift's counsel, regarded the rice-grains as deadly poison, and did not peep.

At this juncture a dove-king named Gay-Neck, with hundreds of dove retainers, was wandering in search of food, and spied the rice-grains from afar. In spite of dissuasion from Swift, he greedily sought to eat them and alighted in the great snare. The moment he did so, he and his retainers were caught in the meshes. Nor should he be blamed. It happened through hostile fate. As the saying goes:

How did Ravan fail to feel
That it's wrong, a wife to steal? 
How did Rama fail to see
Golden deer could never be?

How Yudhishthir fail to know
Gambling brings a train of woe?
Clutching evil dims the sense,
Darkening intelligence.

And again:

When once the mind is gripped by fate,
The judgement even of the great,
In mortal meshes fettered, wends
To unintended, crooked ends.

So the hunter gleefully lifted his club and ran forward. Then Gay-Neck and his retainers, seeing him advancing, were distressed by their disastrous position in the snare.

But the king, with much presence of mind, said to the doves: "Have no fear, my friends. For

Provided judgement does not fail,
Whatever the distress,
Men reach the farther shore of woe,
And rest in happiness.

We must all agree in purpose, must fly up in unison, and carry the snare away. This is not possible without united action. For death befalls those of disunited purpose. As the saying goes:

Bharunda birds will teach you why
The disunited surely die:
For, single-bellied, double-necked,
They took a diet incorrect.

"How was that?" asked the doves. And Gay-Neck told the story of The Bharunda Birds.*

"And that is why I say:

Bharunda birds will teach you why
The disunited surely die:
For, single-bellied, double-necked,
They took a diet incorrect.

Thus union is strength."

When the doves heard this, being eager to live, they united their efforts to carry the snare away, flew just an arrow-shot into the air, formed a canopy in the sky, and proceeded without fear.

When the hunter saw the snare carried away by birds, he looked up in amazement, thinking: "This is unprecedented." And he recited a stanza:

So long as they agree, they may
Carry the fatal snare away;
But they will quickly disagree,
And then those birds belong to me.

With this in mind, he started to pursue. And when Gay-Neck perceived the savage pursuer and recognized his purpose, with judgement unconfused, he started to fly over regions rough with hills and trees.

And Swift in turn, astonished both by Gay-Neck's prudent conduct and the hunter's cruel purpose, repeatedly shifted his glance, looking now up, now down, forgot his concern for food, and followed the flock of doves with keenest interest. For he was thinking: "What will this noble soul do next? And what this villain?"

At last the hunter, observing that the flock of doves was protected by the roughness of the paths, turned back in disappointment, saying:

"What shall not be, will never be;
What shall be, follows painlessly;
The thing your fingers grasp, will flit,
If fate has predetermined it.

And again:

If fate be hostile, even gains
Acquired no man can hold;
They go, and take his other wealth,
Like hoards of magic gold.

"For, to say nothing of getting birds to eat, I have actually lost the snare which was my means of supporting the family."

Now when Gay-Neck saw that the hunter had turned back hopeless, he said to the doves: "See! We may travel quietly. The villainous hunter has turned back. This being so, our best plan is to fly to the city Maidens' Delight. For in its north-eastern quarter dwells a mouse named Gold, a dear friend of mine. He will cut our bonds in a hurry. He is quite competent to set us free from our trouble."

So they all did as he said, for they were eager to find the mouse named Gold. And when they reached the hole which he had converted into a fortress, they alighted. Now previously

The mouse, in social ethics skilled,
Saw danger coming. Then
He built and was residing in
A hundred-gated den.

This being so, Gold was alarmed at the whir of birds' wings, darted along one path in his fortress den until just beyond reach of a cat's paw, and remained on the qui vive, wondering what it meant. But Gay-Neck took his stand at a gate of the den, and said: "My dear Gold, pray hasten to me. See what a plight I am in."

Thereupon Gold, still within his fortress, said: "My good sir, who are you? What is your errand? And of what nature is your misfortune? Please inform me."

And Gay-Neck answered: "Why, my name is Gay-Neck. I am king of the doves, and a friend of yours. Hasten to me."

At this the mouse felt a quiver in his body and a thrill in his soul. He hastened forth, saying:

If daily to his home
The friends who love him come,
And coming, bring delight
To eyes that kindle bright,
A man has found the whole
Of life within his soul. 

Then, observing that Gay-Neck and his retainers were caught in a snare, he sadly said: "My good friend, what is this, and whence? Tell me."

"My good friend," answered Gay-Neck, "why do you ask me? For you know it well. As the proverb says:

Whence, what, by whom, how long, when, where,
And how deserved is good or ill,
Thence, that, by him, so long, then, there,
And so it comes. Fate has its will.

And again:

The peacock seems the world to view
From thousand eyes that mock the hue
Of some bright water-lily;
When fear of death beclouds his mind,
His conduct is of one born blind;
He sinks disheartened, silly.
A hundred leagues and twenty-five
The vulture spies his meat,
But - fate decreeing - fails to see
The snare before his feet.

And again:

Snake, bird, and elephant are caged;
The moon and sun go through eclipse;
The wise are poor: all this I see,
And think how dreadfully fate grips.

And once again:

The birds that in the sky securely soar,
Endure calamities;
While fish are plucked by men from ocean's floor
In far, unsounded seas: 
Why speak of virtue here or moral harm?
What stance could help or mar?
It's Time that stretches forth a fatal arm,
And seizes from afar."

When Gay-neck had spoken thus, Gold began to cut his bonds, but Gay-Neck checked him, saying: "My good friend, this is wrong. Please do not cut my bonds first, but my followers'."

Now Gold grew angry at this and said: "Come now! You are mistaken. For servants follow the master."

"No, no, my good friend," said Gay-Neck. "All these poor creatures left others to take service with me. Shall I fail to show them this petty honour? You know the proverb:

The king who offers honour to
His followers beyond their due,
Has servants glad who never quail,
Not even should his money fail.

And again:

Through trust, the root of happy power,
A creature wins to kingship's flower;
While lions, born to kingship, must
As tyrants govern, lacking trust.

"Besides, after cutting my bonds, you might perhaps get a toothache. Or that villainous hunter might return. In that case, I should surely plunge to hell. As the proverb says:

A king who is content to know
That loyal servants suffer woe,
Will later go to hell, but first
Will see his earthly projects burst."

"Yes," said Gold, "I am well aware of this royal duty. It was to test you that I said what I did. Now I will cut the bonds of all, and you will have in them a numerous retinue. For the proverb says:

The king who mercifully grants
Due share in all good circumstance
To serving-folk, may fitly rise
The triple world to supervise."

After making these observations, Gold cut the bonds of all, then said to Gay-Neck: "Now, my friend, you are free to go home." So Gay-Neck went home with his retinue. Yes, there is wisdom in the saying:

Because a man can gain his ends,
Though difficult, with aid of friends,
Get friends, and feel those friends to be
Integral with prosperity.

Now Swift, who had followed the whole matter of Gay-Neck's capture and release, was filled with astonishment, and he thought: "What intelligence has this Gold! What capacity! What an ingenious fortress! It would therefore be wise for me also to make friends with Gold. Even though I am of a suspicious temperament, confiding in nobody, even if I am too clever to be overreached by anybody, even so I should win a friend. For the proverb says:

Even the self-sufficient should
Get friends, and seek a greater good:
The ocean fears no diminution,
Yet waits Arcturus' contribution." 

After these reflections, he flew down from his tree, approached the gate of the den, and called out - for he had previously heard the name of Gold: "Gold, my dear sir, pray come out."

And Gold, hearing this, reflected: "Is this perhaps some other dove who, still somewhat entangled, is addressing me?"

And he said: "Who are you, sir?"

"I am a crow," was the answer. "My name is Swift."

On hearing this, Gold hugged a far corner and said: "My very dear sir, please leave this neighbourhood."

"But," replied the crow, "I have come to see you on weighty business. Please grant me an interview."

"I see no advantage in making your acquaintance," said Gold.

"But," said the crow, "I feel great confidence in you - the result of seeing how Gay-Neck was relieved of bonds through your exertions. I too may possibly be caught some day and find deliverance through you. Please enter into friendship with me."

"Sir," answered Gold, "you eat, and I am food. How can I feel friendship for you? You have heard the saying:

The dull think inequalities
In strength no fatal blocks
To friendship. True - but they are dull,
And public laughingstocks.

Please be gone."

"Look!" said the crow. "Here I perch at the gate of your den. If you do not make friends with me, I shall starve to death."

"But," said Gold, "how can I make friends with you, with an enemy? For the proverb says:

Make no truce, however snug,
With foemen dire:
Water, even boiling hot,
Will quench a fire."

"Why," said the crow, "you do not even know me by sight. Why should there be strife? Why say a thing so little to the purpose?"

"Sir," said Gold, "strife is of two kinds, natural and incidental. Now you are in natural strife with me. And the saying goes:

By incidental means one ends
An incidental strife,
And quickly. Nature's kind endures
Until the loss of life."

"Sir," said the crow, "I should like to learn the characteristic quality of each kind."

"Well," said the mouse, "incidental strife springs from a specific cause, and can therefore be removed by rendering an appropriate service. But strife rooted in nature never disappears. Thus there is enduring strife between mongoose and snake - herbivorous creatures and those armed with claws - water and fire - gods and devils - dogs and cats - rival wives - lions and elephants - hunter and deer - crow and owl - scholar and numskull - wife and harlot - saint and sinner. In these cases, nobody belonging to anybody has been killed by anybody, yet they fight to the death."

"But this is senseless," said the crow. "Listen to me.

For cause a man becomes a friend;
For cause grows hostile. So
The prudent make a friend of him,
And never make a foe."

"But," said Gold, "what commerce can there be between you and me? Listen to the kernel of social ethics:

Whoever trusts a faithless friend
And twice in him believes,
Lays hold on death as certainly
As when a mule conceives.

And again:

A lion took the life of Panini,
Grammar's most famous name;
A tusker madly crushed sage Jaimini
Of metaphysic fame;
And Pingal, metric's boast, was slaughtered by
A seaside crocodile -
What sense for scholarly attainments high
Have beasts besotted, vile?"

"True enough," said the crow. "But listen to this:

The beasts and birds as friends are won
For cause; plain folks, for service done;
And silly souls, for greed or fright -
But good men are your friends at sight.

And again:

Like pots of clay, the wicked friend
Is quick to smash and hard to mend:
Like pots of gold the righteous flash,
As quick to mend, as hard to smash. 

And yet again:

Each segment of a sugar-cane
Beyond the tip, is sweeter;
The friendship of the good is so -
The other kind grows bitter.

Now I assure you that I am upright. Besides, I will reassure you by taking oaths."

But Gold replied: "I have no confidence in your oaths. There is a saying:

Though a foe be bound by oaths,
Trust him none the more:
Indra struck the demon down,
Spite of oaths galore.

And again:

Even gods must try to lull
Foes with measures mild:
Indra, soothing Diti first,
Smote her unborn child.

Through a narrow crevice slip
Enemies who gloat,
Bringing slow destruction, like
Water in a boat.

If, relying on their means,
Men confide in foes,
Or in wives whose love is lost,
Life abruptly goes."

To this Swift found no rejoinder, and he thought: "What an eminent intelligence he has in the field of social ethics! Yet for that very reason I crave his friendship."

And he said:

"True friendship, sir, is an affair
Of seven words, the wise declare;
I've forced you, then, to be a friend -
So hear my pleading to the end.

Now grant me your friendship. If you refuse, I shall starve where I stand."

And Gold reflected: "He is not unintelligent. His speech proves it.

None lacking shrewdness flatter well;
None but a lover plays the swell;
No saints are found in judgement seats;
No clear, straightforward speaker cheats.

So I must certainly grant him my friendship."

Having made up his mind to this, he said to the crow: "My dear sir, you have won my confidence. But it was necessary first to test your intelligence. Now I lay my head in your lap." With this he started to come forth, but when scarcely halfway out, he stopped again.

And Swift said: "Do you cherish even yet some reason for mistrusting me? I see you do not leave your fortress."

"I have no fear of you," said Gold, "for I have examined your mind. But if I gave my confidence, I might perhaps meet death through other friends of yours."

Then the crow spoke:

Friends purchased at the price of death
To other friends and true,
One should avoid, like worthless corn
Where finest rice-plants grew. 

Hearing this, Gold hastened forth, and there was a civil greeting on both sides. After a moment Swift said to Gold: "I will not keep you longer outdoors. I am in search of food."

With this he left his friend and flew into thick jungle where he found a wild buffalo that a tiger had killed. Of this he ate his fill, then returned to Gold, carrying a lump of meat red as a dhak-blossom. And he cried: "Come out, my dear Gold! Come out! Enjoy this meat that I have brought."

Now Gold, with sedulous forethought, had constructed a great heap of corn and rice for his friend's use. And he said: "My dear friend, pray enjoy this rice which I have provided to the best of my ability."

So each was highly pleased with the other, and they ate in order to manifest kindly feeling. This, indeed, is the seed of friendship. As the verse puts it:

Six things are done by friends:
To take, and give again;
To listen, and to talk;
To dine, to entertain.

No friendship ever comes
Without some kindly deed:
The very gods respond
To gifts they have decreed.

As soon as presents cease,
So soon does friendship die:
The calf deserts the cow
Whose udder has gone dry. 

So, to make a long story short:
The mouse and crow became
Such friends as never fail,
Enduring, hard to split
As flesh and finger nail.

Indeed, the mouse was so captivated by the crow's attentions that he grew confident to the point of feeling quite at home between his wings.

Now one day the crow appeared with tears filling his eyes, and sobs choked him as he said: "My very dear Gold, I have grown dissatisfied with this country. I intend to travel."

"My dear friend," said Gold, "what cause do you have for discontent?"

Listen, my friend," said the crow. "There has been a dreadful drought in this country, so that all the city people, driven by famine, not only cease to give the birds a few mere crumbs, but actually set bird-traps in every house. To be sure, I have not been caught, for further life is appointed me. Yet this is why I shed tears for I think of foreign travel. This is why I plan to visit another land."

"Then tell me where you plan to go," said Gold.

And Swift replied: "In the far south is a great lake in the heart of the jungle. There lives a turtle named Slow, a bosom friend of mine, dearer even than you are. He will give me bits offish, a digestible diet. In his society I shall be happy, enjoying the delight of conversation spiced with wit. Besides, I cannot behold such slaughter of birds. For the proverb says:

Blest are they who do not see
Death upon the family,
Friend in trouble, stolen wife,
Ruin of the nation's life."

"Considering the circumstances," said Gold, "I will accompany you. I, too, have a great sorrow."

"Of what nature?" asked Swift. "Oh," said Gold, "it is a long story. When we get there, I will tell you in detail."

"But," said the crow, "I travel in the air, you on the ground. How will you accompany me?"

And Gold answered: "If you feel concern for the preservation of my life, mount me on your back and carry me very gently."

At this the crow was delighted and said: "If that is possible, then I am blest indeed. There is none more blest than I. Let it be done. For I know the eight flights, Full-Flight and the rest. Thus I shall carry you in comfort."

"My friend," said Gold, "I should like to know the flights by name." And the crow recited:

Full-Flight, Part-Flight, and the Rise,
Great-Flight, and the Curve likewise,
Horizontal, Downward-Flight;
Number eight is called the Light.

After listening to this, Gold mounted the crow, who set off at Full-Flight. And very gently he brought his friend to the lake.

Thereupon Slow saw a mouse riding a crow, and wondering who he might be, plopped into the water - for he was a judge of occasions. And Swift, after depositing Gold in a hole in a tree on the bank, perched on the tip of a twig and called in a piercing tone: "Friend Slow! Come here! I am your crow friend. After long absence I have come, my heart filled with longing. Come, embrace me. For the saying runs:

Bring sandalwood or camphor? No!
Nor even flakes of cooling snow;
All are not worth the sixteenth part
Of rest upon a friendly heart."

When he heard this, Slow made a narrow inspection, then, with a quiver of delight and with eyes swimming in joyful tears, he hurriedly scrambled from the water, saying: "I did not know you. I am much to blame. Forgive me." And when Swift flew down from the tree, he embraced him.

So the two, after exchanging embraces, thrilled with delight, and sitting beneath the tree told each other their adventures during the long separation. Gold also, with a bow to Slow, sat down there. And Slow, spying him, said to Swift: "Tell me, who is this mouse? And why did you mount him, your natural food, on your back and bring him hither?"

And Swift replied: "Ah, he is a mouse named Gold, a friend of mine, almost my second life. To make a short story of it:

His virtues, like the streams of rain
Or stars that dot the sky
Or like the grains of dust on earth
All numbering defy; 
Yes, mathematics fails to count
His lofty virtues through;
Yet he, in deep dejection sunk,
Has come to visit you."

"And what," said Slow, "is the cause of his gloom?"

"That," said the crow, "I asked him yonder. But he put me off, saying: 'It is a long story. I will tell you when we get there.' Now, my very dear Gold, pray tell us both the cause of your gloom." And Gold told the story of Gold's Gloom.***

Thus I have related to you the cause of my gloom.

"Well, there is this to be said:

The world - gods, elephants, and men,
Deer, devils, snakes -
Before the noonday hour is spent,
Its dinner takes.

When hour and appetite arrive,
There should suffice
For world-wide conqueror or slave
A bowl of rice.  

For this, what man of sense would do
Base deeds perverse,
Whose consequences drag him down
From bad to worse?"

When he had listened to this, Slow began to offer consolation. "My dear fellow," said he, "you must not lose heart at leaving your country. Intelligent as you are, why feel disturbed without occasion? Consider the saying:

The merely learnèd is a fool;
The wise man uses action's tool:
For no remembered drug can cure
The sick by name alone, it's sure.

To brave and wise what land is strange,
Or native? Whatever change
Befall, he makes the land his own
By strength of valiant arm alone:

The lion's whim is jungle law
By strength of tooth and tail and claw;
He slaughters elephants for food,
And slakes his servants' thirst with blood.

"Therefore, my dear fellow, we must always be energetic. Where will money feel at home, or pleasures? You know the saying:

As frogs will find a drinking-hole,
Or birds a brimming lake,
So friends and money seek a man
Whose vigour does not break.

From another point of view:

The goddess Fortune seeks as home
The brave and friendly man,  
The grateful, righteous soul who does
Each moment what he can,
Who regulates a sturdy life
Upon an active plan.

Or, put it this way:

The brave, wise, hopeful, and persistent,
From tricks, freaks, meanness equidistant -
If such there be,
And Fortune flee,
The joke on Fortune falls, insistent.

While, on the other hand:

If man be fatalist and slacker,
Irresolute and sang-froid lacker,
Him Fortune - as a bouncing miss
Her aged lover - hates to kiss.

Abysmal learning does not aid
To virtue those who are afraid:
As men with lamps no sooner find
Lost objects, if those men are blind.

The prince becomes a beggar;
By weak are slayers slain;
The beggar ceases begging;
When fate revolves again.

"Nor must you, in view of the aphorism,

Since teeth and nails and men and hair,
If out of place, are ugly there
draw the coward's conclusion:
Let no man leave his native place.

"For to the competent there is no distinction between native and foreign land. You must have heard the saying:

Brave, learnèd, fair,
Wherever they roam,
Without delay
Are quite at home.

The shrewdly valiant on the earth
Will always master money's worth;
Not those of godlike scholarship -
It's certain - if they lose their grip.

"Today, no doubt, your purse is light. For all that, you are not in the position of the commonplace fellow, for you have sense and vigour. And the proverb says:

Let sturdy resolution guide,
And poor men touch the peak of pride;
Let money fold in its embrace
The mean, they sink to lowly place:
The lion's majesty derives
From nature, rich because he strives
To crown his feats with nobler feats.
What golden-collared dog competes?

And again:

Some men compacted of self-rigour
With valour, enterprise, and vigour
Indifferently view the muddle
Of ocean and the petty puddle;
As at some wretched ant-hill, frown
At Himalaya's highest crown:
To these, not those who wait and see,
Comes Fortune, tripping eagerly.

And once more:

Mount Meru is not very high,
Hell is not very low, 
The sea not shoreless, if a man
Abounding vigour show.

For, after all:

Why, wealthy, puff with pride?
Why, poor, in gloom subside?
Since, like a stricken ball,
Men's fortunes rise and fall.

In any case, remember that youth and wealth are unstable as water-bubbles. As the saying goes:

With shadows of the passing cloud,
New grain, and knavish friends,
With women's love, and youth, and wealth,
Enjoyment quickly ends.

This being so, if an intelligent man catches slippery money, let him make it fruitful, by giving it away or enjoying it. As the proverb tells us:

The coin that cost a hundred toils,
That men are wont to cherish
Beyond their life, will, if it be
Not given to others, perish.

And again:

Bestow, or use your wealth for pleasure;
If not, you hoard another's treasure:
As in your home, your lovely girl
Awaits a stranger - his dear pearl.

And once again:

The miser for another hoards
His bags of needless money:
The bees laboriously pack,
But others taste the honey.  

In any event, fate has the last word. As the proverb puts it:

In weapon-bristling battle or at home,
In flaming fire, wild cave, or monstrous sea,
Among thanatophidian fangs elate,
The to-be is, is not the not-to-be.

Now you are healthy and enjoy peace of mind. This is the supreme possession. As the saying goes:

The lord of seven continents,
Beset by crawling greed,
Is but a beggar; he who lives
Content, is rich indeed.

Besides, on this earth

No treasure equals charity;
Content is perfect wealth;
No gem compares with character;
No wish fulfilled, with health.

Nor must you think: 'How can I survive, having lost my possessions?' For money passes away, man's character abides. There is a proverb to fit the case:

The noble man, indeed, may fall
To earth - like an elastic ball;
The coward who drops is down to stay,
Is flattened like a ball of clay.

But why bore you? Here is the nub of duty. Certain men are born to enjoy the pleasures that money brings, certain others are born money's guardians. There is a verse about it:

Your wealth will flee,
If fate decree,  
Though it was fairly earned:
So silly Soft,
When perched aloft
In that great forest, learned."

"How was that?" asked Gold. And Slow told the story of Soft the Weaver.**

"And that is why I say:

Your wealth will flee,
If fate decree,  
Though it was fairly earned:
So silly Soft,
When perched aloft
In that great forest, learned."

Therefore, my dear friend Gold, recognize the facts and feel no uneasiness in the department of finance. You know the proverb:

A lofty soul, in days of power,
Is tender as a lotus-flower;
But, meeting misadventure's shock,
Grows hard as Himalayan rock. 

And again:

The goal desiderating powers at strain,
Is reached by listless sleepers with no pain:
Though panting life go struggling ceaselessly,
The to-be is, is not the not-to-be.

And once again:

Why think and think without relief?
Why weight the mind with aimless grief?
All finds fulfilment, soon or late,
If written on the brow by fate.

Or put it this way:

From distant island, central sea,
Or far horizon's brink,
Fate brings and links its wilful whims,
Before a man can wink.

Or this way:

Fate links the unlinked, unlinks links;
It links the things that no man thinks.
All life, unwilling, faces its
Unbidden doom -
Some ill, no doubt, but blessings, too -
Why sink in gloom?

And yet again:

Courageous, cultivated minds
Their fate would supervise;
But linked causation masters them,
And makes it otherwise.

And He who made the parrots green,
But made the king-swans white,
And peacocks particoloured, He
Will order us aright.  

There is great wisdom in the old story:

Within a basket tucked away
In slow starvation's grim decay,
A broken-hearted serpent lay.

But see the cheerful mouse that gnaws
A hole, and tumbles in his jaws
At night - new hope's unbidden cause!

Now see the serpent, sleek with meat,
Who hastens through the hole, to beat
From quarters cramped, a glad retreat!

So fuss and worry will not do;
For fate is somehow muddling through
To good or bad for me and you.

"Adopt this point of view, and give some attention to ultimate salvation. There is a verse about that, too:

Let some small rite - vow, fasting, self-control -
Be daily practiced with a quiet soul;
For fate chips daily from our days to be,
Though panting life go struggling ceaselessly.

"This being so, contentment is always wise:

Contentment's nectar-draught supplies
The quiet joy that satisfies;
How can the money-maddened know
That joy in bustlings to and fro?

And once again:

No penance like forbearance;
No pleasure like content;
No friend like gifts; no virtue
Like hearts on mercy bent.  

"But why bore you with a sermon? In this place you are at home. Pray divest yourself of disturbing worries, and spend your time in friendship with me."

Now when Swift had listened to these observations of Slow, set off as they were with the inner truth of numerous authoritative works, his face blossomed, his heart was satisfied, and he said: "Slow, my dear fellow, you are good. Your virtue is something to rely on. For in the act of offering this comfort to Gold, you have brought perfect satisfaction to my heart. As the proverb puts it:

They taste the best of bliss, are good,
And find life's truest ends,
Who, glad and gladdening, rejoice
In love, with loving friends.

And again:

The richest man is penniless,
A living nothing, a vain distress,
If greed, true wealth destroying, bends
His soul to lack the charm of friends.

"Now by means of this first-class advice you have rescued our poor friend, sunk in the sea of wretchedness. After all, it is quite in the nature of things:

The good forever save the good,
When dull misfortunes clog:
For only elephants can drag
Their comrades from the bog.

And again:

No man deserves the praise of men,
Nor meets the vow of virtue, when  
The poor or suppliant from him go
Averted, sunk in hopeless woe.

Yes, there is wisdom in this:

What manhood is there, making not
The sad, secure?
What wealth is that, availing not
To aid the poor?

What sort of act, performed without
Good consequence?
What kind of life, that glory feels
To be offense?"

While they were conversing thus, a deer named Spot arrived, panting with thirst and quivering for fear of hunters' arrows. On seeing him approach, Swift flew into a tree, Gold crept into a grass-clump, and Slow sought an asylum in the water. But Spot stood near the bank, trembling for his safety.

Then Swift flew into the air, inspected the terrain for the distance of a league, then settled on his tree again, and called to Slow: "Slow, my dear fellow, come out, come out! No evil threatens you here. I have inspected the forest minutely. There is only this deer who has come to the lake for water."

Thereupon all three gathered as before.

Then, out of friendly feeling toward a guest, Slow said to the deer: "My good fellow, drink and bathe. Our water is of excellent quality, and cool." And Spot thought, after meditating on this invitation: "Not the slightest danger threatens me from these. And  this because a turtle has no capacity for mischief when out of water, while mouse and crow feed only on what is dead. So I will make one of their company," And he joined them.

Then Slow bade him welcome and did the honours, saying: "I trust your circumstances are happy. Pray tell us how you happened into this neck of the woods." And Spot replied: "I am weary of a life without love. I have been hard pressed on every side by mounted grooms and dogs and hunters. But fear lent speed, I left them all behind, and came here to drink. Now I am desirous of your friendship."

Upon hearing this, Slow said: "We are little of body. It is unnatural for you to make friends with us. One should make friends with those capable of returning favours."

But Spot rejoined:

"Better with the learnèd dwell,
Even though it be in hell
Than with vulgar spirits roam
Palaces that gods call home.

"And since you know that one little of body may be of no little consequence, why these self-depreciatory remarks? Yet after all, such speech is becoming to the excellent. I therefore insist that you make friends with me today. There is a good old saying:

Make friends, make friends, however strong
Or weak they be:
Recall the captive elephants
That mice set free." 

"How was that?" asked Slow. And Spot told the story of The Mice That Set Elephants Free.*

"And that is why I say:

Make friends, make friends, however strong
Or weak they be:
Recall the captive elephants
That mice set free." 

When Slow had listened to this, he said: "Be it even so, my dear fellow. Have no fear. In this place you are at home. Pray dismiss anxieties and behave as in your own dwelling." So they all took food and recreation at such hours as suited each, met at the noon hour in the shade of crowding trees beside the broad lake, and spent their time in reciprocated friendship, discussing a variety of masterly works on religion, economics, and similar subjects. And this seems quite natural:

For men of sense, good poetry
And science will suffice:
The time of dunderheads is spent
In squabbling, sleep, and vice.  

And again:

A thrill
Will fill
The wisest heart,
When flow
Bons mots
Composed with art,
Though fe-
Males be
Removed apart.

Now one day Spot failed to appear at the regular hour. And the others, missing him, alarmed also by an evil omen that appeared at that moment, drew the conclusion that he was in trouble, and could not keep up their spirits.

Then Slow and Gold said to Swift: "Dear fellow, we two are prevented by locomotive limitations from hunting for our dear friend. We beg you, therefore, to hunt about and learn whether the poor fellow is eaten by a lion, or singed by forest fire, or fallen into the power of hunters and such creatures. There is a saying:

One quickly fears for loved ones who
In pleasure-gardens play:
What, then, if they in forests grim
And peril-bristling stay?

By all means go, search out precise news concerning Spot, and return quickly."

On hearing this, Swift flew a little distance to the edge of a swamp, and finding Spot caught in a stout trap braced with pegs of acacia-wood, he sorrowfully said: "My dear friend, how did you fall into this distress?"

"My friend," said Spot, "there is no time for delay. Listen to me.

When life is near an end,
The presence of a friend
Brings happiness, allying
The living with the dying.

Oh, pardon any expressions of friendly impatience I may have used in our discussions. Likewise, say to Gold and Slow in my name:

If any ugly word
Was willy-nilly heard,
I pray you both, forgive -
Let only friendship live."

On hearing this, Swift replied: "Feel no fear, my dear fellow, while you have friends like us. I will return with all speed, bringing Gold to cut your bonds."

Thereupon, with his heart in a flutter, he found Slow and Gold, explained the nature of Spot's captivity, then returned to Spot, carrying Gold in his beak. Gold, for his part, on seeing the plight of his friend, sorrowfully said: "My dear fellow, you always had a wary mind and a shrewd eye. How, then, did you fall into this dreadful captivity?"

And Spot rejoined: "Why ask, my friend? Fate, you know, does what it will. As the saying goes:

What mortal flies
(However wise)
When billows rise
To fatal size
On seas of woe? 

In dead of night,
Or broad daylight,
Grim fate may smite;
Ah, who can fight
An unseen foe?

You, my saintly friend, are familiar with the caprices of constraining destiny. Therefore be quick. Cut my bonds before the pitiless hunter comes."

"Have no fear," said Gold, "while I am at your side. In my heart, however, is great sorrow, which I beg you to remove by telling your story. You are guided by an eye of wisdom. How did you fall into this captivity?"

"Well," said Spot, "if you insist on knowing, listen, and learn how I have been made captive a second time, having once before suffered the woes of captivity."

"Tell me," said Gold, "how once before you suffered the woes of captivity. I am eager to learn the full detail." And Spot told the story of Spot's Captivity.*

"Thus, though having suffered a previous captivity, I am caught again through constraining destiny."

At this moment Slow joined them. For his heart was so full of love for his friend that he had followed, leaving grass, shrubs, and spear-grass crushed behind him.

At sight of him, they were more distressed than ever, and Gold became their spokesman. "My dear fellow," said he, "you have done wrong in leaving your fortress to come here, since you are not able to save yourself from the hunter, while on us he cannot lay hands. For when the bonds are cut and the hunter stands near, Spot will bound away and disappear, Swift will fly into a tree, while I, being a little fellow, will find some chink to slide into. But what will you do, when within his reach?"

To this Slow listened, but he said: "Oh, do not blame me, you of all people. For

The loss of love and loss of wealth
Who could endure
But for restoratives of health
In friendship sure?

And again:

The days when meetings do not fail
With wise and good
Are lovely clearings on the trail
Through life's wild wood.

The heart finds rest in telling things 
(When troubles toss)  
To honest wife, or friend who clings,
Or kindly boss.

Ah, my dear fellow,

The wistful glances wander,
The wits, bewildered, ponder
In good men separated,
Whose love is unabated.

And more than that:

Better lose your life than friends;
Life returns when this life ends,
Not the sympathy that blends."

At this moment the hunter arrived, bow and arrow in hand. Under his very eyes Gold cut the bonds and slipped into the before-mentioned chink. Swift flew into the air and was gone. Spot darted away.

Now when the hunter saw that the deer's bonds had been cut, he was filled with amazement and said: "Under no circumstances do deer cut their own bonds. It was through fate that a deer has done it."

Then he spied a turtle on most improbable terrain, and with mixed feelings he said: "Even if the deer, with fate's help, cut his bonds and escaped, still I've got this turtle. As the saying goes:

Nothing comes, of all that walks,
All that flies to heaven,
All that courses over the earth,
If it be not given."

After this meditation, the hunter cut spear-grass with his knife, wove a stout rope, tied the turtle's feet  tightly together, fastened the rope to his bow-tip, and started home.

But when Gold saw his friend borne away, he sorrowfully said: "Ah, me! Ah, me!

No sooner sorrow's ocean-shore
I reach in safety, than once more
A bitter sorrow is my lot:
Misfortunes crowd the weakest spot.

Fresh blows are dreadful on a wound;
Food fails, and hunger-pangs abound;
Woes come, old enmities grow hot:
Misfortunes crowd the weakest spot.

One walks at ease on level ground
Till one begins to stumble;
Let stumbling start, and every step
Is apt to bring a tumble.

And besides:

It's hard to find in life
A friend, a bow, a wife,
Strong, supple to endure,
In stock and sinew pure,
In time of danger sure.

False friends are common. Yes, but where

True nature links a friendly pair,
The blessing is as rich as rare.

To bitter ends
You trust true friends,
Not wife nor mother,
Not son nor brother.

No long experience alloys
True friendship's sweet and supple joys;
No evil men can steal the treasure;
It's death, death only, sets a measure.

"Ah, what is this fate that smites me ceaselessly? First came the loss of property; then humiliations from my own people, the result of poverty; because of gloom thereat, exile; and now fate prepares for me the loss of a friend. As the proverb says:

In truth, I do not grieve though riches flee;
Some lucky chance will bring them back to me:
It's this that hurts me - lacking riches' stay,
The best of friends relax and fall away.

And again:

Fate's artful linkage since my birth
Of evil deeds and deeds of worth
Pursues me on this present earth
Till states of mind that play and sway
And change and range from day to day,
Seem lives that strive and pass away.

Ah, there is only too much wisdom in this:

The body, born, is near its doom;
And riches are the source of gloom;
All meetings end in partings: yes,
The world is all one brittleness.

"Ah, me! Ah, me! The loss of my friend is death to me. What care I even for my own people? As the saying goes:

A foe of woe and pain and fear,
A cup of trust and feelings dear,
A pearl - who made it? Who could blend
Six letters in that name of friend?  

Oh, friendly meetings!

O joy to which the righteous cling,
Machine that answers love's sole string,
Pure happiness in every breath,
Cut short by one stern exile - Death!

And once again:

Pleasant riches; friendship's course
In familiar ruts;
Enmities of men of sense -
Death abruptly cuts.

And one last word:

If birth and death did not exist
Nor age nor fear of loved ones missed,
If all were not so quick to perish,
Whose life were not a thing to cherish?"

While Gold recited these grief-stricken sentences, Spot and Swift joined him and united their lamentations with his. And Gold said to them: "So long as our dear Slow is within sight, so long we have a chance to save him. Leave us, Spot. You must slip past the hunter unobserved, drop to earth somewhere near water, and pretend to be dead. Swift, you must spread your claws in the cage work of Spot's horns, and pretend to peck out his eyes. Then that dreadful beast of a hunter, in the greedy belief that he has found a dead deer, will certainly wish to seize him, will throw the turtle on the ground, and hurry up. When his back is turned, I for my part will in a mere  twinkling set Slow free to seek refuge in the water nearby, his natural fortress. I myself will slide into a grass-clump. You, furthermore, must plan a second escape when the beast of a hunter is upon you."

So they put this plan into practice.

Now when the hunter saw a deer as good as dead beside the water, and noticed that a crow was pecking at him, he joyfully threw the turtle on the ground, and ran for a club. As soon as Spot could tell from the tramp of feet that the hunter was close upon him, with a supreme burst of speed he swept into dense forest. Swift flew into a tree. The turtle, his fettering cord cut by Gold, scrambled to shelter in the water. Gold slipped into a grass-clump.

To the hunter it seemed a conjurer's trick. "What does it mean?" he cried in his disappointment. Then he returned to the spot where he had left the turtle, and saw the cord cut in a hundred pieces no longer than a finger's breadth. Then he perceived that the turtle had vanished like a magician, and anticipated danger for his own person. With troubled heart he made all speed out of the wood for home, casting anxious glances at the horizon.

Meanwhile the four friends, free of all injury, came together, expressed their mutual affection, took a new lease on life, and lived happily. And so

If beasts enjoy so great a prize
Of friendship, why should wonder rise
In men, who are so very wise? 

Here ends Book 2, called "The Winning of Friends." The first verse runs:

The deer and turtle, mouse and crow
Had first-rate sense and learning; so,
Though money failed and means were few,
They quickly put their purpose through.