Asfandiyár, the illustrious prince, then bade
Gurgsár to come and gave him in succession
Three cups of wine whereat his cheeks became
Like bloom of fenugreek, and then the prince
Addressed him: “Miscreant in mind and body!
Observe the doings of this whirling world!
Evanished are Símurgh and lion, wolf
And dragon sharp of claw and valorous!”
Gurgsár then lifted up his voice and said:—
“O famous, glorious Asfandiyár!
God is thy Helper, O most fortunate!
The royal Tree hath come to fruit; howbeit
Tomorrow there confronteth thee a task
That none in war expecteth. Thou wilt take
No thought of mace or bow or sword, and see
No opening for fight, no way of flight,
For snow, a spear's length deep, will come upon thee,
A crisis will confront thee, thou with all
Thy famous army wilt be lost therein,
O glorious Asfandiyár! No marvel
If thou turn back, nor need my words offend thee;
Thou wilt be guiltless of this army's blood,
And quit this road for other. Sure am I
That earth will rive beneath a mighty blast,
The trees be levelled. E'en if thou shalt make
At last thy way through to the plain beyond
The next stage will be thirty leagues across,

An arid wilderness of dust and sand,
Which birds and ants and locusts traverse not.
Thou wilt not see a drop of water there;
Its soil is ever seething with the sun.
A lion cannot pass that sandy waste,
Nor swift-winged vulture fly across the sky.
No herbage groweth in the arid soil,
And that is tutty-like,*

all shifting sands.
Thus wilt thou fare along for forty leagues;
Men's souls will fail and horses lose all heart.
Thy host then will approach the Brazen Hold,
Which thou wilt find upon no fruitful spot.
Its soil is in the maw of poverty;
Its summit holdeth conclave with the sun.
Outside the castle beasts look not for food,
The army will not have a horseman left.
Though there should come a hundred thousand men,
Sword-wielders from Írán and from Túrán,
And should beleaguer it a hundred years,
And shower arrows there, it recketh not
How many enemies or few there be;
They are but as a knocker on the door.”
The Íránians heard Gurgsár, were pained, and said:—
“O noble prince! forbear with all thy might
To compass thine own ruin. If things are
As said Gurgsár we cannot blink that we
Came hither to our death and not to wreck
The Turkmans. Thou hast traversed this rough road,
And 'scaped disaster from wild beasts. Not one
Of all our warriors and heroic Sháhs
Can reckon up so great a tale of toils
As thou hast met with in these Seven Stages.
So thank the Maker for it all, and since
Thou wilt return victorious thou mayst go
Light-hearted to the Sháh, while if thou marchest
To war elsewhere the whole state of Írán

Will homage thee. So, as Gurgsár saith, hold not
Thy person cheaply and involve not all
A host in slaughter, for this ancient sky
Will play new tricks. Now that we are triumphant
And glad there is no need for thee to fling
Thine own head to the winds.”

On hearing this

That young, heroic paladin replied:—
“Why fray me thus and open for yourselves
The door of terror? Came ye from Írán
To counsel then and not for high renown?
If this was then the mind of all of you
Why did ye gird yourselves to fare with me
Since at this miserable Turkman's words
Ye tremble like a tree? Where then are all
The counsels and the presents of the Sháh,
The golden girdles, thrones, and diadems,
Where all your oaths, your bonds, and covenants
By God 'neath favouring stars that now your feet
Should falter thus and one march wreck your plans?
Turn back then happy and victorious,
But as for me may I seek naught but fight.
The World-lord is my conquering ally,
And fortune's head reclineth on my breast.
Now by my manhood I will none of you
As comrades whether I am slain or slay,
And by my manhood, might of hand, and triumph
Will show the foe what prowess is. Withal
Ye shall not lack for tidings of my Grace
Imperial, famed, and that which I have wrought
In His name, who is Lord of Sun and Saturn,
Upon this stronghold by my might and manhood.”
The Íránians looked upon Asfandiyár,
Beheld his eyes all wrath, and went before him

To make excuses: “Let the prince forgive
Our fault if he see fit. Oh! may our souls
And bodies be thy ransom, such hath been,
And will remain, our covenant with thee.
We grieve for thee, O prince! Our toil and strife
Have not reduced us to extremities,
And, while a chief surviveth, none of us
Will shrink from fight.”

Their leader, hearing this,

Grieved for his words and praised the Íránians.
“Prowess,”
He said, “will show itself. If we return
Victorious we shall enjoy the fruits
Of our past toil; it will not be forgotten,
And your own treasuries shall not be void.”
The prince took counsel till the world grew cool,
And zephyrs wafted from the mountain-top,
Then trump and clarion sounded from the court-gate,
And all the host set forward, sped like fire,
And called upon the Maker. When the dawn
Rose o'er the mountain-tops, and night drew o'er
Her head her filmy wimple as a veil
Against the blazing sun which pressed behind,
That mighty host—all mace-men clad in armour—
Reached their next stage. It was a glorious day
In spring, a day to gladden heart and world.
The prince bade pitch the tent and tent-enclosure,
Then had the board spread and the wine brought forth.
With that there came a fierce blast from the mountains,
And sore dismayed him. All the world became
Like ravens' plumes, and none knew plain from upland.
From that dark cloud descended showers of snow;
The earth was filled with snow and raging blast,
And o'er the desert for three days and nights
The fury of the wind was measureless.

The tents and tent-enclosure were soaked through,
And not a man could stand or stir for cold.
The air was woof, the snow was like the warp;
The chief, resourceless, called to Bishútan:—
“This plight of ours is one with misery.
I met the dragon's fumings like a man,
But strength and manhood now avail us not.
Make supplication, all of you, to God!
Call ye upon Him, offer to Him praise,
That He may cause these ills to pass from us,
Else we are naught henceforth.”

Then Bishútan

Made prayer to God, who is the Guide to good,
While all the soldiers lifted up their hands,
And offered supplications numberless.
Thereon a gentle breeze arose which bare
The clouds away and heaven became serene,
And when the Íránians had taken heart
They offered thanks to God. They stayed three days
And, when the world's Light shone upon the fourth,
The leader called the officers to him,
And spake to them at large and graciously:—
“Leave baggage here and take but gear of war.
Let every chief that hath a hundred beasts
Load half of them with water and supplies,
The other half with means of serving them.
Leave all the other baggage here, for now
The door of God is opened unto us.
When any man hath lost all hope in God
His portion of success is small indeed;
But we by help of God shall overcome
That evil-doer and idolater,
While ye shall be the richer for yon hold,
And all have crowns and treasures.”

When the sun

Drew o'er its head its yellow veil, and when
The west became like flower of fenugreek,
The warriors, having loaded up the beasts,
Marched with the king of men. Now in the night
A sound of cranes came from the sky above.
Asfandiyár was wrathful at the sound,
And sent this message to Gurgsár: “Thou said'st:—
‘There is no water for thee on this stage,
Nor rest nor sleep withal.’ Yet cranes give note
Above! Why didst thou make us dread a drought?”
Gurgsár replied: “The baggage-beasts will get
But brackish water here, and thou wilt find
The fountains poisonous, though birds and beasts
Use them.”

The chief said: “In Gurgsár have I

A hostile guide.”

He bade the host proceed.

Invoking God they hurried on at speed.