# The Panchatantra (Purnabhadra's Recension of 1199 CE)/Book 3/The Self-sacrificing Dove

THE SELF-SACRIFICING DOVE
A ghastly fowler plied his trade Of horror in a forest; made All living creatures hold their breath: He seemed to them the god of death.
He had no comrade on the earth, No friend, no relative by birth. They all renounced him; he had made Them do so by his horrid trade.
​For you know
The dreadful wretches bringing death On those who love their living breath, With natural repulsion (like Fierce serpents) fill before they strike.
To snare, to imprison, and to drub He took a net, a cage, a club, And wandering daily in the wood, He brought all creatures harm, not good.
While he was in the wood one day, The sky grew black with clouds straightway; So wild the wind, so fierce the rain, It seemed the world dissolved in pain.
Then, as the heart within him quivered, And every limb grew numb and shivered, He sought where might a refuge be, And chanced to come upon a tree.
Now as he rested, near and far In sudden-clearing skies, each star Shone bright; and he had wit to pray: "O Lord, be kind to me today."
There was a dove upon the tree Whose nest was in a cavity; And since his wife was absent long, He grieved for her in mournful song:
"The wind and rain were very great, And my belovèd wife is late In coming home. When she is not At home, home is an empty spot.
"The house is not the home; but where
The wife is found, the home is there.
The home without the wife is less
To me than some wild wilderness.
"Some wives their life's devotion give, And in and for the husband live; Whatever man has such a wife Is heaped with blessings all his life."
From fowling-cage the female dove Had caught the speech of grief and love; And she was deeply gratified, And to her husband thus replied:
"No woman earns the name of bride Whose husband is not satisfied. If he is happy, she may know The gods she venerates are so.
"That woman should be burned entire (Like vines that fade in forest-fire
While blossoms drop from clustered side)
Whose husband is not satisfied."
And she continued:
"Oh, harken heedfully, my dear; My words are good for you to hear; Though it should cost your life, defend
The guest who seeks in you a friend.
"Here lies a fowler; as a guest He asks for comfort at your nest. Since cold and hunger press him sore,
Begrudge him not from honor's store.
​And the Scripture says:
"Whoever does not give his best To cheer the late-arriving guest Will see his merit borne away, And for the other's sins will pay.
"Oh, let no hate against him rise Who caged the wife you idolize; It is my sins of former lives That, fateful, hold me in the gyves.
For well you know:
"Disease, and poverty, and pain, With woe that prison brings amain, Are all the fruit of one sole tree,
Our own, our past iniquity.
"Abandon, therefore, thoughts of hate Deriving from my captive state; On virtue set your heart; and pay This man such honor as you may."   On listening to his darling, who Seemed virtue-woven through and through, An unknown courage fired the dove; He gave the fowler words of love.
"A hearty welcome, sir, to you; What for your service may I do? No more let anxious fancies roam,
For here with me you are at home."
In answer to his kindly words
Replied the murderer of birds:
"Well, dove, the cold is in me still; Give me a remedy for chill."
The dove then brought a bonfire's sole Surviving ember—one live coal, And where a pile of dry leaves lay, He kindled it to fire straightway.   "Now, sir, take heart; forgetting fear, Resuscitate your members here; Alas! I cannot put to flight
The cravings of your appetite.
"One patron feeds a thousand men; One feeds a hundred; one feeds ten. But I, whose virtue does not thrive,
Scarce keep my puny self alive.
"Ah, if you have not in your nest Provision for a single guest, Why occupy today, tomorrow
A nest that harbors naught but sorrow?
"I shall destroy my body, fain To end its living with its pain, That nevermore I stand confessed Powerless to aid a needy guest."
And thus he blamed himself, you see; The greedy fowler went scot-free: Then—"I may yet your craving sate, If one mere moment you will wait."
Whereat that creature free from sin, Joy-quivering his soul within, Walked round the fire, as it had been
His cherished home, and entered in.
When this the greedy fowler saw,
Compassion filled his soul, and awe.
He, while the dove was cooking, spoke What from his heart a passage broke:
"None loves his soul, 'tis very plain, Who smears it with a sinful stain. The soul commits the sin; and late Or soon, the soul must expiate.
"My thoughts are evil; my desire Is ever set on what is dire: It needs but little wit to tell I steer my course for ghastly hell.
"A moral lesson let me draw From what my savage spirit saw. The high-souled dove, that I may eat, Has sacrificed himself for meat.
"Henceforth let all enjoyment be An unfamiliar thing to me; I’ll share the shallow water's fate In August; will evaporate.
"Cold, wind, and heat I will embrace, Grow thin and dirty, form and face, Will fast by every method known, Seek virtue, perfect and alone."
The fowler then apieces tore Club, peg, net, cage—and what is more, Set free the wretched female dove Who sorrowed for her perished love.
But she, released from clutches dire, Beheld her husband in the fire; Whereat she gave expression so To thoughts of horror and of woe:
"My lord! My love! What shall I do With life that drags, apart from you? What profit has a wretched wife, Without a husband, of her life?
"For self-esteem, respect, and pride, The family honor paid a bride, Authority with all the brood Of servants, die with widowhood."
Now after this lamenting sore, This sorrow bitter evermore, She went where lay her heart's desire, Walked straight into the blazing fire.
And lo! She sees her husband shine— Oh, wonder!—in a car divine; Her body wears a heavenly gown; And heavenly gems hang pendent down.
While he, become a god, addressed True consolation to her breast: "The deed that you have done, is meet In following your husband, sweet.
"There grow upon a man alive Some thirty million hairs and five; So many years in heaven spend Wives following husbands to the end."
So he joyfully took her into the chariot, embraced her, and lived happily. But the fowler sank into the deepest despondency, and plunged into a great forest, meditating death.
And there he saw a forest-fire
And entered it; for all desire
Was dead. His sins were burned away; He went to heaven, there to stay.
"And that is why I say:
The dove (there mentioned) entertained, . . . .
and the rest of it."
Having listened to this, Foe-Crusher asked Flame-Eye: "What is your opinion, sir, things standing as they do?" And Flame-Eye said:
"She who always shrank from me Hugs me to her breast. Thank you, benefactor! Take What you like the best."
And the thief replied:
"Nothing here that I should like; Should I want a thing, I'll return if she does not Passionately cling."
"But," asked Foe-Crusher, "who is she that does not cling? And who is the thief? I should like to hear this one in detail." And Flame-Eye told the story of
THE OLD MAN WITH THE YOUNG WIFE