In ancient days the Rishi kings, Vasishtha Rishi, Mandhatri, the
Kakravartin monarchs, and the rest, these and all others like them, the
former conquerors, who lived with strength like Isvara, these all have
long ago perished, not one remains till now; the sun and moon, Sakra
himself, and the great multitude of his attendants, will all, without
exception, perish; there is not one that can for long endure; all the
Buddhas of the past ages, numerous as the sands of the Ganges, by their
wisdom enlightening the world, have all gone out as a lamp; all the
Buddhas yet to come will also perish in the same way; why then should I
alone be different? I too will pass into Nirvana; but as they prepared
others for salvation, so now should you press forward in the path;
Vaisali may be glad indeed, if you should find the way of rest! The
world, in truth, is void of help, the 'three worlds' not enough for
joy--stay then the course of sorrow, by engendering a heart without
desire. Give up for good the long and straggling way of life, press
onward on the northern track, step by step advance along the upward
road, as the sun skirts along the western mountains."
At this time the Likkhavis, with saddened hearts, went back along the
way; lifting their hands to heaven and sighing bitterly: "Alas! what
sorrow this! His body like the pure gold mountain, the marks upon his
person so majestic, ere long and like a towering crag he falls; not to
live, then why not, 'not to love'? The powers of birth and death,
weakened awhile, the lord Tathagata, himself the fount of wisdom
appeared, and now to give it up and disappear! without a saviour now,
what check to sorrow? The world long time endured in darkness, and men
were led by a false light along the way--when lo! the sun of wisdom
rose; and now, again, it fades and dies--no warning given.
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