經律異相 48.61

48.61

There was a mighty, venomous nāga: if it looked at a person with its eyes, the weak would instantly die; if it blew its breath at a person, even the strong would die. At that time, the nāga took the one-day precepts, renounced the household life, and entered the forest trees to contemplate. Sitting for a long time, it grew tired and fell asleep. By the nature of nāgas, when sleeping, its form was like that of a snake, variegated with the seven jewels. A hunter saw it and said in joyful surprise: 'To offer this rare and hard-to-find skin to the king of the country as a decoration for his boat—would that not be suitable?' He then pressed down its head with a staff and flayed its skin with a knife. The nāga thought to itself: 'My strength can topple a kingdom; how could this trivial creature overcome me? Yet because I am upholding the precepts now, I take no regard of this body. I must follow the Buddha's words and endure it.' It closed its eyes and did not look; it held its breath and did not exhale. Having pity on this man, for the sake of upholding the precepts, it wholeheartedly endured the flaying without giving rise to regret. After losing its skin, its red flesh lay upon the ground. At that time the sun was intensely hot, and it writhed in the dust. Wishing to make for the great waters, it saw various small insects coming to eat its body. For the sake of upholding the precepts, it dared not move any further. It thought to itself: 'Now I give this body of mine as an offering to these insects. For the sake of the Buddha path, today I give flesh to satisfy their bodies; later I shall give the Dharma to benefit their minds.' When its body dried and its life came to an end, it was immediately reborn in the Trāyastriṃśa heaven. (Extracted from the Dàzhìdù lùn, Fascicle 14).