"
And through the night they earnestly communed,
Until Sudata saw the living truth
In rising splendor, like the morning sun,
And doubts and errors all are swept away
As gathering clouds are swept by autumn's winds.
Bowing in reverence, Sudata said:
"I know the Buddha never seeks repose,
But gladly toils to give to others rest.
O that my people, now in darkness sunk,
Might see the light and hear the master's words!
I dwell in King Pasenit's distant realm--
A king renowned, a country fair and rich--
And yearn to build a great vihara there."
The master, knowing well Sudata's heart
And his unselfish charity, replied:
"Some give in hope of greater gifts returned;
Some give to gain a name for charity;
Some give to gain the rest and joy of heaven,
Some to escape the woes and pains of hell.
Such giving is but selfishness and greed,
But he who gives without a selfish thought
Has entered on the noble eightfold path,
Is purified from anger, envy, hate.
The bonds of pain and sorrow are unloosed;
The way to rest and final rescue found.
Let your hands do what your kind heart desires."
Hearing this answer, he departs with joy,
And Buddha with him Saraputra sent.
Arriving home, he sought a pleasant spot,
And found the garden of Pasenit's son,
And sought the prince, seeking to buy the ground.
But he refused to sell, yet said in jest:
"Cover the grove with gold, the ground is yours.
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