Again,
on the royal highway he loosed a drunken, vicious elephant. With his
raised trunk trumpeting as thunder he ran, his maddened breath raising a
cloud around him, his wild pace like the rushing wind, to be avoided
more than the fierce tempest; his trunk and tusks and tail and feet,
when touched only, brought instant death. Thus he ran through the
streets and ways of Ragagriha, madly wounding and killing men; their
corpses lay across the road, their brains and blood scattered afar. Then
all the men and women filled with fear, remained indoors; throughout the
city there was universal terror, only piteous shrieks and cries were
heard; beyond the city men were running fast, hiding themselves in holes
and dens. Tathagata, with five hundred followers, at this time came
towards the city; from tops of gates and every window, men, fearing for
Buddha, begged him not to advance; Tathagata, his heart composed and
quiet, with perfect self-possession, thinking only on the sorrow caused
by hate, his loving heart desiring to appease it, followed by guardian
angel-nagas, slowly approached the maddened elephant. The Bhikshus all
deserted him, Ananda only remained by his side; joined by every tie of
duty, his steadfast nature did not shake or quail. The drunken elephant,
savage and spiteful, beholding Buddha, came to himself at once, and
bending, worshipped at his feet just as a mighty mountain falls to
earth.
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