Once upon a time, a king named Bhallatiya reigned in Benares. Seized with a desire to eat venison broiled on charcoal, he gave the kingdom in charge to his courtiers, girt himself with the five weapons, and with a well-trained pack of clever pedigree hounds he issued forth from the city and went to Himalaya. He travelled along the Ganges until he could get no higher, then followed a tributary stream for some distance, killing deer and pig, and eating the flesh broiled, until he had climbed to a great height. There when the pleasant stream ran full, the water was breast high, but at other times, it was no more than knee-deep. At that time there were fish and tortoises of all sorts gamboling, sand at the water’s edge like silver, trees on both bands bending beneath a load of flowers and fruit, many a bird and bee well drunken with the juice of fruit and honey of flowers flitted about in the shade, whither herds of all manner of deer did frequent.

Now on the band of this beautiful mountain stream two fairies fondly embraced and kissed one another, then fell a weeping and wailing most pitifully.

As the king climbed Mount Gandhamadana by way of this river bank, he saw these two fairies. “What can they be weeping about in this manner?” thought he. “I will question them.” A glance to his hounds, a snap of the fingers, and at this sign the thoroughbred dogs, which knew their work well, crept into the underwood and crouched down on their bellies. As soon as he saw they were out of the way, he laid down his bow and quiver and other weapons by a tree that stood near, and without letting his footsteps be heard stole gently up to the fairies, and asked them, “Why do you weep?”

To the king’s question, the male fairy said nothing; but his mate answered:

“Malla, Three-peak, Yellow Hill

We traverse, following each cool rill.

Human-like the wild things deem us:

Huntsmen call us goblins still.”

Then the king said: “You human-seeming creatures! You like lovers and weep as full of deep distress; Why this weeping? Come, confess!”

“We apart one might had lain,

Both loveless, full of bitter pain,

Thinking each of each: but never

Will that night come back again.”

The King asked:

“What the limit of your years?”

If this by rumour old appears.

Or the teaching of the elders,

Tell it me, and have no fears.”

The fairy replied:

“A thousand summers, strong and hale,

Never deadly pains assail,

Little sorrow, bliss abundant,

To the end love’s joys prevail.”

The king thought as he listened, “These creatures, who are less than human, go weeping for seven hundred years for one night’s parting: and here am I, lord of a realm of three hundred leagues, leaving all my magnificence and wandering about the forest. It is a great mistake.” He returned immediately. Arrived at Benares, the courtiers asked him whether he had seen any marvelous thing in the Himalayas. He told them the whole story, and thenceforward gave alms and enjoyed his wealth.

Explaining this matter, the Master said:

“Thus instructed by the fairys

The King returned upon his ways,

Ceased to hunt, and fed the needy,

And enjoyed the fleeting days.”

Take a lesson from the fairys:

And quarrel not, but mend your ways.

Lest you suffer, like the fairy,

Your own error all your days.

And bicker not, but mend your ways.

Lest you suffer, like the fairy,

Your own error all your days.

Now rose the Lady Mallika from her couch, when she heard the Tathagata’s admonition, and joining hands she made reverent obeisance, while she said:

“Holy man, with willing mind

I hear thy words so good and kind.

Blessings on thee! thou hast spoken,

All my sorrow’s left behind.”

Ever afterwards the King of Kosala lived with her in harmony.