Damnah* said, ‘They have related that a Raven had taken up its abode on the side of a mountain, and had made its nest in the fissure of a rock, and in the vicinity of it was the hole of a Snake, the water of whose mouth was deadly poison and the locality of death, and the venom of the roots of whose teeth was destructive to the constitution of existence and life. Whenever the Raven had young, the Serpent devoured them, and consumed the liver of the Raven with the brand of the loss of her offspring. When the cruelty of the Serpent had passed all bounds, the Raven, reduced to despair, made complaint of her plight to a jackal who was her friend, and said, ‘I am thinking how I can deliver myself from the calamity of this Snake and the affliction of this life-pursuing tyrant.’ The jackal asked, ‘What steps wilt thou take in this emergency? and by what artifice wilt thou get rid of his annoyance?’ The Raven said, ‘I intend, when the Snake is asleep, to peck out with my blood-drinking beak the eyes with which he surveys the world, that he may not be again able to attack those that are the lustre of my eyes; and that my offspring, the light of my vision, may remain secure from the wickedness of that malignant one.’ The jackal said, ‘This plan swerves from the right course, for wise men ought to attack their enemy in such a manner that there may be no peril of losing their life by it. Take care that thou abandonest this thought, that thou mayest not destroy thyself like the Heron who exerted himself for the destruction of the Crab, and gave his own dear life to the winds.’ The Raven asked, ‘How was that?’