The Self-sacrificing Dove

THE SELF-SACRIFICING DOVE

A ghastly fowler plied his tradeOf horror in a forest; madeAll 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 madeThem do so by his horrid trade.

​For you know

The dreadful wretches bringing deathOn those who love their living breath,With natural repulsion (likeFierce serpents) fill before they strike.To snare, to imprison, and to drubHe 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 farIn sudden-clearing skies, each starShone bright; and he had wit to pray:"O Lord, be kind to me today."There was a dove upon the treeWhose 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 lateIn coming home. When she is notAt home, home is an empty spot.

"The house is not the home; but whereThe wife is found, the home is there.The home without the wife is lessTo me than some wild wilderness."Some wives their life's devotion give,And in and for the husband live;Whatever man has such a wifeIs heaped with blessings all his life."From fowling-cage the female doveHad caught the speech of grief and love;And she was deeply gratified,And to her husband thus replied:"No woman earns the name of brideWhose husband is not satisfied.If he is happy, she may knowThe gods she venerates are so."That woman should be burned entire(Like vines that fade in forest-fireWhile 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, defendThe guest who seeks in you a friend."Here lies a fowler; as a guestHe 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 bestTo cheer the late-arriving guestWill see his merit borne away,And for the other's sins will pay."Oh, let no hate against him riseWho caged the wife you idolize;It is my sins of former livesThat, 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 hateDeriving from my captive state;On virtue set your heart; and payThis man such honor as you may."On listening to his darling, whoSeemed 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 wordsReplied 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 soleSurviving 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 flightThe 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 nestProvision for a single guest,Why occupy today, tomorrowA nest that harbors naught but sorrow?"I shall destroy my body, fainTo end its living with its pain,That nevermore I stand confessedPowerless 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 beenHis cherished home, and entered in.When this the greedy fowler saw,Compassion filled his soul, and awe.

He, while the dove was cooking, spokeWhat 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 lateOr soon, the soul must expiate."My thoughts are evil; my desireIs ever set on what is dire:It needs but little wit to tellI steer my course for ghastly hell."A moral lesson let me drawFrom what my savage spirit saw.The high-souled dove, that I may eat,Has sacrificed himself for meat."Henceforth let all enjoyment beAn unfamiliar thing to me;I’ll share the shallow water's fateIn 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 toreClub, peg, net, cage—and what is more,Set free the wretched female doveWho sorrowed for her perished love.But she, released from clutches dire,Beheld her husband in the fire;Whereat she gave expression soTo thoughts of horror and of woe:

"My lord! My love! What shall I doWith 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 broodOf 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, addressedTrue consolation to her breast:"The deed that you have done, is meetIn following your husband, sweet."There grow upon a man aliveSome thirty million hairs and five;So many years in heaven spendWives 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-fireAnd 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 meHugs me to her breast.Thank you, benefactor! TakeWhat 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 notPassionately 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