續高僧傳 12.32

12.32

Śramaṇa Daoqing had the secular surname Dai. His ancestors were originally from Guangling; later generations crossed the Yangtze River and settled in Wuxi. At the age of eleven he left home and served Ācārya Zang of Jianshan Monastery in Wu Commandery. Serving diligently and fulfilling all ritual propriety, he was respected by his peers. At seventeen he went to the capital and listened to lectures on the Satyasiddhiśāstra at Pengcheng Monastery; nor did he neglect any of the principal doctrines of the other treatises. Therefore the masters of the time characterized him by saying: "One who suspends the sun and moon within his breast, and pours the Yangtze and the Yellow River from his mouth—this truly applies to Daoqing!" Having shouldered such high praise, he redoubled his ambitions far beyond ordinary men. His sharp faculty of speech was renowned in the past; his presence on the lofty seat belonged to the present day. When the Chen dynasty fell and the fellowship of the Dharma was dispersed, he returned east to Wuxi and resided at Fengguang Monastery, where students gathered again and he instructed and guided them as before. Later he stayed at Hongye Monastery at the Pitan, devoting himself to expounding and propagating the Dharma without setting it aside in cold or heat. He possessed a handsome deportment and was skilled in conversation and laughter; he was indifferent to fame and gain, yet earnest in fellowship. His writing flowed like a fountain, and his zither-playing and poetry were elegant and subtle. His spirit was tranquil and unconstrained, his demeanor serene and poised. He responded to situations with proper measure and met circumstances without friction. In the eighth month of the ninth year of Wude, he passed away in his monastery room at the age of sixty-one. On the twenty-third day of that same month, he was interred at the mountain ferry of Futang. On the day the grave was excavated, just as the spades and shovels were first applied, a flock of white cranes was moved to descend from the sky, drifting and wheeling from afar, breaking down in mournful cries. Were it not that the radiance of his practice reached far, how could it have elicited such an extraordinary auspicious sign? Śramaṇa Faxuan of the same monastery said: "With this man, words were forgotten and the Way was intimately shared. In the capital during our youth, we already rejoiced in sharing a blanket; in our fading old age in a strange land, we were even happier to wear the same robes. On moonlit mats and breezed-swept seats, we joined wrists and conversed; in the hall of sūtras and the chamber of treatises, my friend sat knee-to-knee with me as no ordinary companion. How could I anticipate that the dark heavens would snatch away my good friend! Though a thousand lines of tears be shed in vain, how could a hundred bodies redeem him? Unable to restrain my brush, I briefly write this short inscription: 'The Ten Powers have hidden their light; the Four Reliances sustain the world. Continuing virtue and connecting brilliance, this man was the successor. His moral discipline and patience were as high palace walls, his dhyāna and wisdom like blazing torches. He ran abreast with Sengsheng and Tanlin, and shared the hall with Dao'an and Sengrui. In the hall of treatises he shook forth jades; in the chamber of meaning he was fragrant as orchids. Seated with the majesty of a lion, he was surrounded by the assembly like sandalwood. His path was pure beyond the dust; his reason dissected the subtleties of debate. His four deportments were well-ordered; his three karmas were ever tranquil. When his capacity to save the defiled land was exhausted, this superior person manifested extinction. His curtain retains his lingering shadow; the chariot has turned on its departing tracks. The ridge moon shines in solitude; the tomb spring is deep and chilled. The dew on the bamboo briefly gathers; the wind in the pines is ceaselessly sharp. The movement of vital breath has an end, but his virtuous renown shall never cease.'"