Part 8: Coronation of the prince

Then the delighted King took the prince by the hand himself and seated him on his own throne suitable for the coronation-sprinkling. At the King’s command pure water was brought from the different tīrthas by officials like clouds. The King himself sprinkled the prince on the head while loud-toned auspicious musical instruments were played. Other kings also approached in turn, sprinkled him, and bowed with devotion to him like a newly-risen sun.^[1] At the King’s command he put on fringed white garments and looked like a mountain with numerous white clouds. Courtesans anointed his body with gośīrṣa-sandal that resembled spotless streams of moonlight. He put on his body pearl-ornaments which seemed to be made from groups of stars strung together after drawing them from the sky. The King himself set on his head a diadem resplendent with blazing rubies, like his own intense splendor. Over his head the King had carried a spotless white umbrella resembling Glory which had instantly appeared. On both sides he was fanned by courtesans with chauris that resembled clusters of blossoms produced by the creeper of royal wealth. The King himself marked his forehead with a sandal-tilaka that resembled the moon on the peak of the eastern mountain. When the King had thus established the prince on the throne with the greatest joy, he gave good advice that was like a charm for guarding Lakṣmī:

“Yon are the support of the earth. No one is your support. Eliminating negligence, O son, you must support yourself by yourself. From the weakness of the support whatever is placed on it certainly perishes. Therefore beware of weakness in yourself arising from excessive devotion to sense-objects. Know that youth, power, beauty, and henceforth sole lordship also are productive of negligence which destroys the performance of intelligent action. This Lakṣmī that has come by family inheritance, seeking trickeries, hard to conciliate, deceives the negligent man, like a Rākṣasī. In her there is no inclination to constancy arising from a long residence, but she goes elsewhere without delay when she can seize the opportunity, like a maina. Feeling no fear of censure, like an adopted child she leaves a negligent master who is like a man asleep, though awake. Certainly she has no kindness springing from protection but, jumping up suddenly like a monkey, she goes to another abode. Shamelessness, fickleness, lack of affection, and other faults also are her very nature, as going downwards is the nature of water.

Every one prospers with Śrī, even though she consists entirely of faults. Even Śakra is devoted to Śrī, to say, nothing of the human race. Endowed with wisdom and strength, you should always be alert in the task of making her stay, like her watchman. You must protect the earth without greed even if you long for Śrī. For Lakṣmī follows a man free from greed like a girl following a handsome man. Do not resort to excessive cruelty and overpower the earth by a tax hard to bear, like the summer-sun overpowering it by its unendurable rays. You should abandon even your own people who have committed a crime a single time. For the best of dwellings is abandoned if spoiled at all by fire. You should prevent hunting, gambling, and drinking completely. The king is a sharer in their evil results as well as in the penance of ascetics. You should conquer the internal enemies,^[2] for if there is no victory over them, external enemies, though conquered, are really unconquered. You should give service to religion, wealth, and love at the proper times without injury to each other, like a considerate husband to his wives. You should share these three aims of man in such a way that at the right time you will not be lacking in eagerness for the fourth aim of man (emancipation).”