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." Forthwith Sudata spread his yellow coin. But Gata said, caught by his thoughtless jest: "Spread not your gold--I will not sell the ground." "Not sell the ground?" Sudata sharply said, "Why then said you, 'Fill it with yellow gold'?" And both contending sought a magistrate. But Gata, knowing well his earnestness, Asked why he sought the ground; and when he learned, He said: "Keep half your gold; the land is yours, But mine the trees, and jointly we will build A great vihara for the Buddha's use." The work begun was pressed both night and day; Lofty it rose, in just proportions built, Fit for the palace of a mighty king. The people saw this great vihara rise, A stately palace for a foreign prince, And said in wonder: "What strange thing is this? Our king to welcome thus a foreign king To new-made palaces, and not with war And bloody spears and hands to new-made graves, As was his father's wont in times gone by?" Yet all went forth to meet this coming prince, And see a foreign monarch's royal pomp, But heard no trumpeting of elephants, Nor martial music, nor the neigh of steeds, But saw instead a little band draw near In yellow robes, with dust and travel-stained; But love, that like a holy halo crowned That dusty leader's calm, majestic brow, Hushed into silence every rising sneer. And when Sudata met this weary band, And to the prince's garden led their way, They followed on, their hands in reverence joined, To where the stately new vihara rose, Enbowered in giant trees of every kind That India's climate grows, while winding streams Along their flowery banks now quiet flow, Now leap from rocks, now spread in shining pools With lotuses and lilies overspread, While playing fountains with their falling spray Spread grateful coolness, and a blaze of bloom From myriad opening flowers perfumes the air, And myriad birds that sought this peaceful spot Burst forth in every sweet and varied song That India's fields and groves and gardens know. And there Sudata bowed on bended knee, And from a golden pitcher water poured, The sign and sealing of their gift of love Of this vihara, Gatavana called, A school and rest-house for the Buddha's use, And for the brotherhood throughout the world. Buddha received it with the fervent prayer That it might give the kingdom lasting peace.