Thus spake Sháhwí, the ancient sage, so be
Attentive to the tale of old Sháhwí:—
Once on a time there lived a king in Hind,
One puissant in treasure, troops, and arms,
And everywhere renowned, Jamhúr by name,
And passing Fúr himself in fame for valour.
Such was this king, of such an ardent spirit,
So vigilant and prudent, that from Bust

And from Kashmír down to the march of Chín
The chieftains homaged him, and all the world
Was in his grasp, so mighty was his prowess.
He had his dwelling-place at Sandalí;
Here was his throne, his treasures, and his troops,
Here were his signet-ring and here his crown.
Jamhúr was worshipful, a man of lore,
Pre-eminent in knowledge and distinction,
And all his lieges, whether of his court
Or of his city, joyed alike in him.
He had a worthy wife, a prudent dame,
Accomplished, learned, and one that injured none.
One night a son was born to him just like
His sire, who when he saw the youthful prince
Bade call him Gav, but soon and suddenly
The monarch sickened, told the queen his will,
And died bequeathing unto Gav a world,
Where justice ruled, though yet he was unfit,
By reason of his infancy, for throne,
For crown and girdle. All the chieftains' heads
Were full of dust, their hearts were sorrowful
By reason of Jamhúr, and all the world
Still kept in mind the memory of his bounty,
His feasts, and justice. Troops and citizens—
Men, women, children—met and thus took counsel:—
“This little infant wotteth not of host,
Of justice, rigour, throne, and crown. The sway
Will suffer if the ruler be not great.”
The monarch had a brother who was wise,
And fitted for the throne: his name was Mái.
The dwelling-place of that idolater
Was at Dambar, and all the veteran chiefs,
In looking for a king, turned to Dambar
Their face from Sandalí, while of Kashmír
The potentates up to the march of Chín
Did homage to him as their sovereign.
The exalted Mái came from Dambar and set
His feet upon the throne of majesty,
Placed on his head the crown worn by Jamhúr,
And ruled with justice and with bounteousness.
He took to wife Gav's mother, cherished her,
And held her all as dear as his own life.
The fay-faced dame became with child by Mái,
And that illustrious lady bare a son,
Whom Mái, that mighty monarch, named Talhand,
And loved with all his soul. Now when the babe
Was two years old and Gav was seven, and grown
A lusty warrior dowered with Grace and stature,
Mái ailed, his glad heart was espoused to care.
He languished for two se'nnights' space, then died,
And passing left the world to other's hands.
All Sandalí was sorrowful and wept,
And burned with pain of heart because of him.
They spent a month in mourning for the king,
And at the end thereof the whole host met,
The great men and the warriors of the state—
All that had part in wisdom. Much talk passed
In that assembly on all points. At length
A wise man thus addressed the counsellors:—
“This lady, who was once spouse to Jamhúr,
Hath kept herself at all times from ill-doing,
In both her marriages hath sought the right,
And followed after justice all her days.
The lady is of noble lineage,
Just, upright, and inspireth confidence.
'Tis best that she should be our queen, for she
Remaineth—the memorial of two kings.”
The assembly all assented thereunto,
And then the sage addressed the wise queen thus:—
“Take thou the throne of thy two sons, for this
Will make for greatness, and there is no choice.
When they grow worthy of the throne resign
To them the majesty, the wealth, and host,
And be from that time forth their counsellor,
Companion, minister, and best of friends.”
The lady—fortune's favourite—at these words
Gave lustre to the crown and graced the throne,
Grew kinder, more considerate, and just,
And all the realm rejoiced in her. She chose
Two men wise, holy, travelled, and accomplished,
And to their charge entrusted both her sons—
Those princes of high lineage and wise.
Withal she never left them for a day,
And found her happiness in seeing them.
Now as they grew in lustiness and lore,
Becoming mighty men in that regard,
One or the other used to come alone
To his good mother, ever and anon,
And ask: “Which is the fittest of us twain,
Most high of heart, most likely, and most shrewd?”
And thus the mother would reply to both:—
“That I may know which is more excellent,
Show prowess, counsel, self-control, and Faith,
Fair speech, and an ambition to be praised;
For wisdom, modesty, self-governance,
And justice, are required since ye are both
Of royal birth.”

When one of them would come

Alone at whiles before her and inquire:—
“Which of us twain will have the sovereignty,
Which of us have the treasure, throne, and crown?”
Then would she answer him: “The throne is thine,
For wisdom, counsel, fortune, are thine own.”
She said the same thing to the other also
Until the saying grew inveterate,
And thus she made the heart of each expectant
Of throne, wealth, host, fame, fortune. They attained,

Each with a baleful tutor for his guide,
To man's estate, and through their mutual envy
Both suffered, both were hot for crown and treasure,
The whole realm and the host were rent in twain,
While good men's hearts grew fearful. Both the sons,
Impassioned by their baleful tutors' talk,
Came to their mother, crying: “Which of us
Is best and meekest under good and ill?”
That prudent lady made them this reply:—
“First it is needful for you both to sit
In counsel with the sages pure of heart,
And solve this question in content and peace,
And after do ye and your tutors ask
The great men most renowned throughout the state,
All those possessed of counsel as their portion,
As to your right procedure in this case.
Whoever seeketh crown and throne hath need
Of wisdom, treasure, counsel, and a host,
For when a tyrant hath the sovereignty
He filleth all the world with heat and ruin.”
Shrewd Gav made answer to his mother thus:—
“Seek not to parry so my questioning.
If I am not the lustre of this realm,
Say so, but say not aught that is untrue.
Deliver to Talhand the throne and crown,
And I will be a loyal liege to him,
While if as older, wiser, and by birth
Sprung from Jamhúr, I am to be the king,
Forbid him in his folly to attempt
Strong measures for the sake of crown and throne.”
His mother answered: “Act not hastily:
Thou shouldst push not these matters to extremes.
Whoever sitteth on the throne must have
His two hands open and his girdle girt,
Must keep his pure soul guarded too from evil,
And walk with knowledge in the sage's way,
Must too be wary of the foe in fight,
And heed what maketh for his reputation.
The Master of the sun and moon will judge
His acts just and unjust to state and host,
And if the king oppresseth but a gnat
His spirit will be left to mourn in Hell.
The world is more obscure than night itself,
And hearts must be more subtle than a hair
To keep the soul and body*

free from evil,
And recognise that guile will profit not.
When one is crowned and sitteth on the throne
Of justice all the world will joy thereat,
Yet is his end a couch of brick and dust,
Or else cremation in the funeral pit.
Of such a stock as this Jamhúr was sprung,
Whose counsels were remote from deeds of ill.
He died before his natural time to die,
And left his younger brother as the heir
To all his world. Great Mái came from Dambar,

Still young, shrewd-hearted, and a counsellor.
All Sandalí went out to welcome him
With full hearts and all eager for a king.
He came and sat upon the throne of power
With girdle girded and with open hands.
He sought me as his spouse, and we were wedded
That so state-secrets might be secrets still.
Now since thou art the elder of the twain,
The elder both in wisdom and in years,
Strive not to vex thy spirit for the sake
Of eminence, of treasure, and of crown.
If I choose one of you the other one
Will be fulfilled with pain and with revenge
At me. Shed no blood for the sake of crown
And treasure, for this Wayside Hostelry
Abideth not with any.”

When Talhand

Had heard his mother's words he liked them not,
And thus replied: “Thy sentence is for Gav,
Because he is the elder, but although
My brother is mine elder as to years
Still every elder is not better too.
Within this host and realm is many a man
As ancient as the vultures of the sky,
And yet such never sought for place or host,
Or diadem or treasure, throne or crown.
My father died when young and did not give
The throne of majesty to any. I see
Thy heart in foolishness disposed toward Gav,
And that thou wilt give him the preference,
Though I could make as good as him from clay!
God grant that ne'er I shame my father's name.”
His mother sware a solemn oath and said:—
“May I forgo the azure vault of heaven
If ever I desired of God to make
Gav king or ever set my heart thereon.
Think with all charity concerning this,
And rail not at the process of the sky,
Because it doeth good to whom it will:
So look to God alone and trust none other.
I have advised you to the best I could,
But if my counsel be of no avail
Consider what is better and that do:
Strive and make that the provand of your lives.”
The queen thereafter summoned all the wise,
And laid before them all that she proposed.
She brought the keys that oped the treasury
Belonging to those two kings wise and good,
Displayed the wealth therein reposited
Before those men of much experience,
Gave both her sons an equal share and sought
To satisfy the claims of both of them.
Thereafter Gav spake to Talhand and said:—
“Thou, good of heart but bent on novel schemes!
Jamhúr, as thou hast heard, was greater far
Than Mái, alike in counsel and in years.

Thy sire, that virtuous and noble man,
Showed not the least ambition for the crown.
It was no shame to him to be a subject:
He sought no kind of lordship o'er the lords.
Mark if the just Judge will approve that I
Shall gird myself before my younger brother.
Our mother spake but justice, wherefore then
Should thy heart joy in that which is not just?
Now summon we the leaders of the host,
Wise men and well acquainted with the world,
And having listened to the sages' words,
Assent to their decision and advice;
We shall learn knowledge from them and illume
Our hearts with understanding.”

Those two sages—

Men of good counsel—met and much talk passed.
Gav's sage required that Gav should be the king
In Sandalí and take the foremost place;
The other, who was tutor to Talhand,
And wisest of the wise, spoke up for him;
They wrangled till the princes were at odds.
Within one hall two thrones were set whereon
Those princes of victorious fortune sat,
Each with his lusty sage upon his right,
And covetous of his inheritance.
They summoned all the nobles to the hall,
And seated them to right hand and to left.
Then those two sages loosed their tongues and said:—
“O ye illustrious and famous men!
Of these two chiefs of glorious lineage,
Who keep the customs of their sires in mind,
Which will ye have as ruler over you?
Which youth do ye esteem the holier?”
The priests, the nobles, and the wise men shrewd
Of heart, were lost in wonderment thereat.
The two young princes sat, each on his throne,
While those ill-omened sages both harangued,
And citizen and soldier knew full well
That only war and strife could come of it,
That all the empire would be rent asunder,
The wise man left in travail and dismay.
Then from the company one raised his head,
Rose to his feet, and said: “How dare we speak
What profiteth before two famous kings?
Assemble we to-morrow and discuss
The case among ourselves without reserve,
And then announce our sentence to them both:
It may be that they both will be content.”
They left the hall with murmurs and in dudgeon,
Sighs on their lips and sorrow in their souls,
And said: “This business hath grown troublesome
Beyond the handling of experienced men.
We never saw two kings confronted thus,
With two bad ministers upon the dais.”

All night their faces had a careworn look,
And when the sun arose above the mountains
The great men of the state, the wise, assembled,
On all sides Sandalí was filled with clamour,
And every man spake that which liked him best.
One warrior was the partisan of Gav,
Another for Talhand was advocate.
Tongues tired of talking, there was no accord.
At length that great assembly was dissolved,
And citizens and soldiers went their ways,
One to give in adherence to Talhand,
And utter malisons on Gav, another
To go to Gav with mace and sword, and cry:—
“I will begrudge not life to serve the king.”
Confusion filled the realm of Sandalí
Through honest partisanship. Saith the sage:—
“When two command within one house 'twill fall.”
Then tidings came to Gav and to Talhand:—
“Each quarter hath a leader of its own,
Who layeth waste the city at his will:
The princes must not suffer it.”

The news

Filled both of them with fear, and they kept watch
Both night and day, and thus it came to pass,
One day, that both young princes chanced to meet
Without their paladins or any escort.
They set their tongues loose, each against the other,
Frowns on their brows and warlike thoughts within.
The noble Gav was full of lamentation,
The tidings moved him deeply, and he said
Thus to Talhand: “My brother! act not thus,
Because for us the thing hath passed all bounds,
But be content and follow not mad schemes,
For they have no allurement for the wise.
As thou hast heard, Mái, while Jamhúr still lived,
Was as a slave before him. When he died,
And left me still a miserable babe,
They could give not the throne to one so young.
The world had grown so just beneath his rule
That no one dared to seek to fill his place.
His brother was as body is to soul
To him, and all wished Mái to be their king.
If then I had been fitted for the throne
None ever would have looked at him. Let us
Ensue the precedents of kings of yore,
And hear the wise on points of right and wrong.
I am thy better both by years and father.
Thou sayest: ‘I am both the chief and better.’
But say not so. Seek not unworthily
The throne of kingship, or fulfil the realm
With strife.”

Talhand thus answered him: “Enough!

None ever compassed power by subtleties.
This crown and throne received I from my sire,
Received it as the seed that he had sown,

And henceforth I will guard the sovereignty,
The host, and treasure, with the scimitar.
Prate not to me of Mái and of Jamhúr:
If thou wilt have the throne then fight for it.”
They turned away with heads fulfilled with strife,
And went within the city to prepare.
The soldiers and the citizens all keen
For war betook them to the princes' courts.
One faction was in favour of Talhand,
The other favoured Gav. The battle-cry
Rose at the princes' doors. No standing-room
Was left within the city for the throng.
Talhand was first to arm him for the fight,
Because his courage would brook no delay.
He oped the portal of his father's hoards,
And served out helm and mail to all his troops.
The state was rent asunder, and the wise
Were full of fear at heart, and thus they said:—
“What is the end that heaven purposeth,
And which of these young men will lose his life?”
News of both kings was bruited through the
realm,
And from all sides hosts gathered troop on troop.
Talhand was first to put his armour on,
And bathe his hands in blood. Gav also donned
His coat of mail and helmet, and invoked
The spirit of his sire. Embittered thus
They both took action, housed the elephants,
And saddled them. Thou wouldst have said: “The
earth
Is eager for the combat.” All the city
Was filled with din of gong and Indian bells,
All ears were charged with blare of clarions.
These two young kings departed to their camps,
And every one took his own life in hand.
That battlefield filled heaven with amaze,
And eyes were darkened by the dust of hosts.
The flourish of the trumpets and the clash
Of brazen cymbals went up from both lines.
The wings were drawn up to the right and left,
And thou hadst said: “Earth is all mountain-like.”
The armies' fronts extended o'er two miles.
Those two great kings rode each his elephant.
Their standards waved above their heads. One bore
A tiger, one an eagle, as device.
The footmen were in front equipped with spears
And bucklers, and all ready for the fight.
Gav looked upon the field and saw the air
Streaked like the markings on a savage pard.
Each throat*

was full of dust, the plain all blood,
And midst the dust the lances led the way.
Gav, though Talhand had angered him, and wisdom
Had stitched not up the lips of his ambition,
Yet chose him out a man of fluent speech—
The chiefest of his nobles—and thus said:—
“Go to Talhand and say to him: ‘Ensue not
War with thy brother in this unjust fashion,

Since thou wilt suffer in the other world
For all the blood shed in this strife of ours.
Give ear to Gav's advice and err not thou
Through what an evil counsellor may say.
In this conjuncture ne'er must this reproach
Remain as our*

memorial—that this realm
Of Hind is desolate, the lurking-place
Of lions and of pards. Forbear this war
And strife, and wantonly to shed this blood
Unjustly. Joy my heart with peace and save
Our necks by making use of wisdom's net.
Stretch out thy rod from this march unto Chín,
And let whate'er thou wilt of earth be thine.
I will esteem thy love as mine own soul,
And set thee as a crown upon my head.
Share we the kingship as we shared the wealth;
Throne and tiara are not worth such pains;
But if thus wholly thou art bent on strife,
Injustice, and the scattering of the flock,
Now gathered, in this world thou wilt be blamed,
And judged in that to come. Incline not, brother!
To wrong; it cannot stand against the right.’”
Now when the envoy came before Talhand,
Came with the prudent embassage of Gav,
Talhand returned this answer: “Say to him:—
‘Employ not so much subterfuge in warfare.
I call thee neither brother nor a friend;
Thou art not, brain or skin, akin to me,
And wilt but make the empire desolate
By thus assailing these my gallant troops.
The knaves are with thee and are thine Urmuzd
Upon Bahrám's day.*

Thou art guilty too
In God's sight as ill-famed, misgot, and curst.
For all blood shed by thee in fight henceforth
The curses will be thine, the blessings mine.
Thou said'st moreover: “Let us share the realm,
The land, the worship, and the ivory throne,”
But treasure, power, and kingship all are mine,
Mine from the sun down to the Fish's back.*

As long as thou dost play the king, dost share
The land with me, and wouldest be my mate,
I wish my body and my soul may part
Or ever I shall look on throne and crown.
My host have I arrayed, and even now
The air is like brocade all shot with gold;
So many are the arrows, darts, and spearheads
That none can tell his stirrups from his reins.
Heads will I scatter on the battlefield,
Will bring a wail of woe from all Gav's troops,
And in such fashion lead my host to fight
That I will sate with war that Warrior-pard.
I will lead Gav himself with bounden hands,
His troops shall see the dust of overthrow,

Their leaders shall be lifeless by my sword,
Their wounded men shall writhe in misery,
For none of them from bondslaves up to prince
Shall don again his breastplate for the fight.’”
The prudent envoy having heard his answer,
Returned and gave it word for word. Gav's heart
Was sad at hearing it because he saw
No knowledge in Talhand, and full of care
Called his own sage, discoursed of the response
At large, and said: “Suggest a remedy,
Thou seeker after wisdom! for this case.
The desert is all blood and trunkless heads,
And souls pass to the Judge of all the world.
This battle must not bring, when all is done,
Ill fortune on us.”

Said the sage: “O king!

Thou needest not a teacher to teach thee,
But if thou wilt have mine advice herein…
In fighting with thy brother be not fierce,
And send him yet another messenger,
A man of high rank, learned, and eloquent,
To give yet one more message. He still may
Abate hostility. Resign to him
The treasures gathered by the toil of others,
Preferring thereunto thy brother's life.
Since both the crown and signet-ring are thine
Forbear to wrangle with him as to pelf,
For I have seen from heaven's processes
That his time endeth shortly, and that none
Of all the seven planets favoureth him.
Moreover he will perish on this field
Of strife. Thou hast no need to press him. Give him
Whatever he shall ask of steeds and wealth,
So that thou mayst repent not at his death,
The royal signet, crown, and throne excepted,
For fear the troops may call thee faint of heart;
But thou if king and fortune's favourite
Art versed yet more in heaven's purposes.”
The prince, when he had heard his tutor's words,
Made yet a new endeavour. With wet face,
Through anguish for his brother's sake, he chose
One favoured by the stars and eloquent,
And said to him: “Go to Talhand and say:—
‘Gav is fulfilled with trouble and with pain
As touching heaven's purpose and this fight,
And prayeth that the almighty Judge of all
Will stir up love and prudence in thy heart,
So that thou mayest yet renounce this strife
Against thy brother. If 'tis through thy sage,
Who haunteth thee, deceiving thy dark soul,
That thou art grown so fierce and quarrelsome
Still thou canst not escape the course of heaven.
Ask the twelve signs and seven planets how

This unjust work will fare. Foes compass us,
And all the world is full of wicked men;
Moreover by the monarch of Kashmír,
And by Faghfúr of Chín, who even now
Are pressing on our realm, we shall be flouted
On two sides, and by other warrior-chiefs.
How they will say: “Why are Talhand and Gav
Contending for the sake of throne and crown?
Are they not then of common stock by birth,
Not each the offspring of a holy sire?
And yet when counsellors of evil heart
So prompt them they must put their hands to blood!”
If thou wilt leave thy host and visit me,
And so illume this darkened soul of mine,
I will bestow on thee dínars, brocade,
Steeds, treasure; I would have thee all untroubled.
Thou shalt have also jewels, province, signet,
And crown, with armlets and an ivory throne.
These from an elder brother are no shame,
And I desire not battle, but if thou
Wilt hearken not my rede thou wilt repent
At last.’”

The envoy, speeding torrent-like,

Came to Talhand, the dark of soul, and told
What Gav had said to him and added more
Concerning kingship, wealth, dínárs, and goods.
Whenas Talhand had heard the envoy's speech,
His wisdom, and his prudent policy,
He would assent not to his brother's words,
Because the heaven purposed otherwise,
But made this answer, saying: “Say to Gav:—
‘Be thou a schemer still, and may thy tongue
Be severed by the scimitar of ill,
Thy body burnt up in the Magians' fire!
Thy crude proposals have I heard and see
That all thy stock-in-trade is subterfuge.
How wilt thou give to me the royal treasure,
For who art thou amongst this mighty people?
Good sooth! thy life must be nigh o'er since thou
Displayest such prolonged anxiety!
The armies' ranks extend two miles, the world
Is full of men, of steeds, and elephants.
March forth and set the battle in array:
Thou camest forth to fight; why dally then?
Thou'lt see such prowess from me that the stars
Will have to tell the total of thy days.
Thou knowest naught but practice, craft, and lies,
Perceiving that thy downfall is at hand.
Thou art afar from counsel, crown, and throne,
And no wise man will call thee fortunate.’”
The envoy came charged with these blustering
words,
And told the prince's answer. Thus, until
Dark night displayed its face, the envoy fared
Between the twain who, camping on the field,
Dug out a trench before their several hosts.

The outposts went their rounds. Thus passed the
night.
Now when Sol rose in Leo, making earth
As 'twere a sea of splendour, and, all golden,
Enrobed the dome of lapis-lazuli,
From both the camp-enclosures rose the blare
Of clarions and the roar of kettledrums,
The flags of both young princes were displayed,
And both the hosts deployed to right and left,
While at their centres those exalted princes
Were stationed, each with his sage minister.
Gav bade his to proclaim thus to the chiefs:—
“Raise ye your standards, every man of you!
Let every one draw forth his blue steel sword,
But not a warrior advance a step,
Or any of the foot-men quit his post,
For none is sober, wise, and well advised,
That is impetuous on the day of battle:
I would take note of how Talhand deployeth.
The counsel of all-holy God alone
Prevaileth from bright sun to darksome dust,
And I am hopeful that Almighty God
Will grant to us a glorious destiny.
Tried have we counsel and in loving fashion
Have pleaded, but Talhand is still averse.
If now our host shall be victorious,
And if the process of the sun and moon
Afford us fruit, shed ye not blood for spoil,
Because ye shall receive a treasure-hoard;
And if some famous warrior of our host,
Who chargeth on their centre, shall perchance
Confront Talhand in fight he must not cast
The dust upon him. Praying as we go,
And with our girdles girt, confront we now
Yon mighty elephants.”

The soldiers shouted:—

“We will perform thy bidding and will make
Thy counsel the adornment of our souls.”
Upon the other side Talhand harangued
His troops and said: “Ye warders of the throne!
That we may be victorious, and the star
Of our good fortune bring forth fruit for us,
Draw, all of ye, your swords, confide in God,
And slay the foe. When ye have ta'en Gav captive
Ye must not kill him or address him harshly,
But take him from yon raging elephant,
And bring him to me with his hands in bonds.”
Thereat the blaring of the clarions
Rose in the court before the royal tent.
At all the neighing of the steeds, the dust
Raised by the chiefs, and whirl of massive maces,
The hills and streams re-echoed. “Circling heaven

Recoileth,” thou hadst said. At all the shoutings,
And crash of axes, “No one,” thou hadst said,
“Knew head from foot.” The sun withdrew its
skirt
From those bright arrow-heads and eagles' plumes.
Earth seemed a sea of blood where heads and hands
Were pebbles in its depths. The royal princes
Came from the centre, like huge elephants,
And from them both a shout arose: “Avoid
The wind of my two-headed javelin.
O brother! be not forward in the fight,
And guard thee from my sword.”

Thus shouted they,

Each to the other, while the earth seemed all
A sea of blood, The valiant swordsmen wheeled
About the field, and streams of blood and brains
Ran from the blows of those two warlike princes.
Thus till the sun had left the sky the strife
Surpassed all bounds. Then from the field a shout
Rose, and the voice of Gav cried: “Combatants,
And youthful warriors! exact not vengeance
On those that would have quarter at our hands.
Know that my brother shrinketh from the fray,
And may abide not, being left unaided.”
Then many chiefs asked quarter, many more
Were slaughtered on the field, Talhand's whole host
Was scattered, and the flock was shepherdless,
The shepherd flockless. When Talhand was left
Alone upon his elephant, Gav called
To him and said: “Go to thy palace, brother!
And have regard to that and thine own court.
Good sooth! thou shalt not suffer in thy person
From me or at the hands of this famed host
Of swordsmen. Know that all good is from God,
And give Him thanks so long as life shall last
That thou hast left this battlefield alive…
But 'tis no time for counsel or delay.”
Now when Talhand had heard his brother's words
He writhed with shame, his face ran tears, he left
The battlefield for Margh. Troops flocked to him
From every side. He oped his magazines,
And gave supplies. His host was well equipped,
Content, and glad. He gave a robe of honour
To each that in his eyes so merited.
When all the soldiers had received their pay,
And when his warlike heart was freed from dudgeon,
He sent to Gav a message: “Thou that art
To throne as weed to garden! thou shalt burn
Anon, thy spirit shall be stricken, thine eyes
Sewn up. Thou deem'st that I can harm thee not,
But girdle not thy heart with self-deceit.”

Gav, when he heard that savage message, washed
Affection for his brother from his soul.
His heart was filled with dudgeon, and he said
Thus to his sage: “Behold this monstrous thing!”
The sage replied: “O king! upon the throne
Thou art the memory of thy sire, more learned
Than seekers after lore, and mightiest
Of kings. I told my lord the truth, as vouched
By circling sun and shining moon, that till
This famous prince be overthrown, and snake-like
Writhe on the darksome dust, ne'er will he rest,
Or turn away from strife. In this contention
Thy policy is to affect delay.
Reply not harshly, seek the way for union
And peace with him. All his endeavouring
Is to work evil. What is he to do?
It is God's will. If he shall fight again,
We too will fight. He is in haste while we
Can wait.”

King Gav then called the messenger,

Held talk with him at large with courteousness,
And said to him: “Go to, say to my brother:—
‘Be not so brutal and so violent,
For violence becometh not a king.
Thy sire was noble; thou art noble likewise.
I see this clearly that thou dost reject
My counsels and alliance, yet am fain
To have thee fair renowned and well disposed.
Now will I show thee all my heart and tell
The matter that my mind is purposing.
Thine evil minister hath sundered thee
From quiet, good advice, and wisdom's way.
Speak not but what is just because the world,
My brother! is but mockery and wind.
Incline to peace that I may send thee all
The wealth in full and loyal lieges also
Forthwith, and thy misdoubting soul will see
That there is naught but justice in my heart.
May every one be joyful in thy life!
My purpose is according to my words,
If thou, self-willed one! wilt attend thereto.
Howbeit if thou art intent on war,
And overtures for peace and pact are vain,
I will array my warriors for battle,
And they suffice to occupy a realm.
Let us go forth beyond these peopled lands,
And lead our two hosts onward to the sea.
Dig we a trench about them there to shut
Our warriors in, then fill it with sea-water,
And urge them to the fray, so that the worsted
May not escape by reason of the trench,

While he of us that is victorious
Shall shed not blood upon that straitened spot,
But take the foemen captive. God forbid
That we should use our scimitars and arrows.’”
The envoy went his way and came like wind.
He told Talhand the words of Gav. The prince,
When he had listened to that embassage,
Bade summon to his presence all the men
Of leading in his host and seated them,
Each one in due accordance to his rank,
Repeated to them Gav's response, disclosed
The matter, and thus said: “What are your views
On this new-fangled battle by the sea
Proposed by Gav? How shall we deal therewith,
And shall we turn his fancy into fact?
If ye are one with me then not a man
Will draw back for a moment from the fight.
What matter whether it be sea or mountain
When we seek battle in the ranks of war?
If ye will be my comrades in the strife
The leopard shall fear not the fox's voice.
All those of us that seek for high renown
Shall win their chief ambition from the world.
The aspirant rather should be slain with fame
Than live to grace the triumph of the foe.
Whoe'er shall bear him stoutly in the fight,
His bearing shall not disadvantage him,
For such shall have of me unstinted wealth
With servants and with steeds caparisoned.
Then from Kashmír down to the sea of Chín
The folk in every state will homage us;
I will bestow their cities on my troops
Or ever kingship, crown, and throne are mine.”
In answer all the chieftains bowed their faces
Before him till they touched the ground, and said:—
“Our choice is fame, and thou, who art our king,
Shalt see a turn of fortune.”

Then a shout

Rose from the portal of Talhand, and all
The province was astir with troops. He led
His whole host toward the sea, the troops of Gav
Appeared on their side, and the two kings lighted,
Confronting, for they each would be avenged
Upon the other. Round the hosts they dug
A trench and, when 'twas deep, let in the water.
Both armies drew up face to face, and foam
Was on the horsemen's lips. The wings were ranged
To right and left, the baggage was bestowed
Anigh the sea, and those illustrious kings,
All dudgeon and vindictiveness, then saddled
Two elephants, each at his army's centre
Took up his station, and assumed command.
The earth grew pitch-like, heaven azure-dim
With all the spears and silken bannerets,

While air was ebon with the armies' dust.
What with the trumpet's blare and tymbal's din
Thou wouldst have said: “The sea is all a-boil,
The crocodiles therein call out for blood!”
While at the thud of battle-ax, of mace,
And sword, a red reek went up from the deep,
And as that veil was drawn athwart the sun
The world's face vanished from the eyes of men.
Thou wouldst have said: “The air is raining
swords,
And planting tulips in the dust!” The world
Was heaped so with the fallen that the vulture
Durst fly not overhead. Some lay within
The trench, which ran with blood, while other some
Were flung down headless on the field. The sea
Rose with the wind, and still the hosts advanced,
Troop after troop, while all the plain was filled
With livers, brains, and hearts. The horses' hoofs
Were clogged with gory mire. Talhand looked forth
Upon his elephant and saw the earth
O'erflowing like the Nile; the wind withal
Was in his face, and he had need of meat
And drink, but saw no peace and no escape
From wind and sun and trenchant scimitar,
And, swooning, died upon his golden saddle,
Resigning all the realm of Hind to Gav.
When loss betideth one, whose eyes are set
On gain, how great his passion and regret!
And since both gain and loss must pass away
Enjoy, old sage! the pleasures of to-day,
For howsoever much may be thy gains
The world's whole treasure is not worth the pains.
Gav looking from the centre failed to spy
The prince's flag, so sent a cavalier
To wheel before the elephants, and search
The foemen's front for miles, to find out whither
Had gone the bright red banner that had shadowed
The horsemen's faces, “for the fight is stayed
Unless mine eyes are blinded by the dust.”
The horseman came, looked everywhere but saw
not
The standard of the chief, howbeit he saw
The foemen's centre all confuséd cries,
And all the horsemen looking for their prince.
Thereat he turned away, came quick as dust,
And told the news to Gav. That general
Alighted from his elephant and went
Two miles afoot and weeping bitterly.
Whenas he looked upon the dead Talhand,
And saw the soldiers' faces woebegone,
He keenly scanned the corpse from head to foot,
But saw not any wound on breast or skin.
Then that exalted monarch wailed aloud,
Sat grieved and heavy by the corpse, and said:—
“Alack! thou youthful warrior! thou hast gone
Fulfilled with anguish and with wounded soul,
Slain by the process of thine evil star,
Else had the cruel blast not smitten thee.
Thou didst reject the counsel of thy teachers,
Hast gone, and darkened is thy mother's heart.
Much did I warn thee in all kindliness,
But yet my counsel could avail thee naught.”
Now when the sage of Gav arrived and saw
Talhand, the world-aspirant, dead, his brother
Bewailing him on that wide plain with cries
That pierced the sky, he likewise wailed and wallowed
Before Gav, saying: “Woe for thee, young world-
lord!”
Addressing then his lips to give advice
He said to Gav: “Exalted king! what profit
This grief and mourning? He hath passed away;
What was to be hath been. Thou mayst thank God
In one regard—that thy hand slew him not.
I told my lord all that would be as vouched
By Mars and Saturn, sun and moon: ‘This youth
Will bear him so in fight that he will end
His days,’ and now his work is as the wind,
And he hath gone through ignorance and haste,
While all this mighty host is full of grief
And anger, and all eyes are fixed on thee.
Content thyself, make us contented too,
And thus contenting do what wisdom would;
For when the soldiers shall behold their king
Afoot and weeping on the way for grief,
His lustre will be minished in their eyes,
And e'en the basest will wax insolent
Toward him, for the king is like a cup
Filled with rose-water: may the blast not strike him!”
Gav hearkened to that prudent sage's rede.
A proclamation went forth from the host:—
“Ye men of name and warriors of the king!
Let no one tarry on the battlefield,
For yon host is disjoined not now from this;
Both must be one in act and in acclaim.
Be all 'neath my protection and preserve
For me the memory of my high-souled brother.”
Then called he all the chiefs, on his eyelashes
Let fall his own heart's blood, made for Talhand
A narrow coffin out of ivory
And gold, of turquoise and teak-wood, and swathed
His brother's face with glossy silk of Chín.
Thus passed away that famous chief of Hind.
They sealed the coffin-lid with gums and pitch,
With musk and camphor. Then Gav marched away
In haste and tarried at no stage for long.
The princes' mother slept not, rested not,
And fasted after they had chosen their field
Of battle. Ever on the road she kept
A watch and passed each day in bitterness.
So when the host's dust went up from the road
The wakeful watchman saw it from the look-out,
And thence too saw the flag of Gav appear,
While all the realm's face was o'erspread with troops.
He gazed from two miles off in hope to see
The elephant and standard of Talhand,
But failed to recognise them mid the host.
He hurried off a horseman from the look-out
To say: “The army cometh from the mountains,
And Gav is there with all his company,
But I see not Talhand, his elephant,
Or flag, or yet his chiefs with golden boots.”
His mother poured down blood, which drenched her
breast,
From her eyelashes. When news came: “That Light
Of empire is bedimmed, the atheling,
Talhand, hath died on saddle-back and left
To Gav his seat upon the throne of kingship,”
She hurried to the palace of Talhand,
And ofttimes dashed her head against its walls.
She rent her raiment, tore her cheeks, flung fire
On hall and treasury, and burnt up all
The palace and the throne of majesty.
Thereafter she upreared a mighty pyre
To burn herself, as is the use of Hind,
And by her sorrow illustrate its Faith.
When tidings of his mother came to Gav
He urged his speedy charger on and came,
Embraced her closely, and entreated her,
With blood upon his eyelids, saying thus:—
“O loving mother! hearken to my words,
Because we have transgressed not in this fight.
It was not I or my companions,
Or warrior of this noble host, that slew him.
None durst breathe harshly on him: he was slain
Beneath the process of his evil star.”
His mother answered him: “Thou wicked man!
On thee will come high heaven's malison;
Thy brother hast thou slain for crown and throne,
And no good man will call thee fortunate.”
“O loving mother!” thus he answered her,
“Thou oughtest not to think such ill of me,
But be content and I will tell thee all
The case of king and host and battlefield,
For who would dare to go to fight with him?
Who ever contemplated such dispute?
Now by the Judge that fashioned sun and moon,
Night, day, and all the process of the sky,
The signet-ring and throne, the steed and mace,
The sword and crown, shall see me never more
Unless I clear this matter up, and turn
Thy heart from harshness into tenderness,
By proving to thy clear soul that the hand
Of none hath put a period to his life.
What man in all the world can 'scape from death,
Though he be clad upon with steel and helm?
For when the bright lamp faileth none may count
Another breath however brave he be.
If what I prove to thee content thee not,
By God, the Lord of all, my purpose is
To burn my body in the fire and gladden
My foemen's souls.”

On hearing this, his mother

Had ruth upon his form majestical,
Lest that young hero should consume in fire
His body barely handselled of its soul,
And therefore said to him: “Show me the way
That prince Talhand died on his elephant.
Unless the matter be made clear to me
My fond heart still will burn.”

Gav sought his palace

In sorrow, summoned his experienced sage,
Told what had passed and how his mother's words
Had angered him until he swore to burn.
They sat down and took counsel by themselves.
The sage spake thus: “My gracious sovereign!
We cannot by ourselves achieve thy wish.
Call we the famed and wise, both old and young,
Among the shrewdest seekers of the way
From every side—Kashmír, Dambar, Margh, Mái.”
Gav sent off cavaliers to every quarter,*

Wherever there was any sage of leading.
They all came to the portal of the king,
Came to that famous court. He held a session
Of wise men and of magnates learned and shrewd.
Gav's sage described the battlefield and how
The prince and host had fought. They all conversed
With that sharp-witted man about the sea,
About the trench and letting in the water.
That darksome night not one among them slept,
But all held talk together. When the din
Of kettledrum ascended from the plain
Those men of wisdom called for ebony,
And two of them—ingenious councillors—
Constructed of that wood a board foursquare
To represent the trench and battlefield,
And with both armies drawn up face to face.
A hundred squares were traced upon the board,
So that the kings and soldiers might manœuvre.
Two hosts were carved of teak and ivory,
And two proud kings with crowns and Grace divine.
Both horse and foot were represented there,
And drawn up in two ranks in war-array,
The steeds, the elephants, the ministers,
And warriors charging at the enemy,
All combating as is the use in war,
One in offence, another in defence.
The king was posted at the army's centre,
With at one hand his loyal minister.

Next to the twain were placed two elephants,
Supporting thrones the hue of indigo.
Next to the elephants two camels stood,
Whereon two men of holy counsel sat.
Next to the camels there were placed two steeds,
With riders valiant on the day of battle,
And each wing ended in a warrior-rukh,
His liver's blood a-foam upon his lips.
The footman's move was always to advance,
That he might be of aidance in the fray,
Till, having passed across the battlefield,
He sat—a minister—beside the king;
The minister might quit not too in battle
His king by more than by a single square,
While o'er three squares the noble elephant
Could move and for two miles survey the field.
The camel likewise moved three squares and raged
And snorted on the field of fight. The horse
Made too a three squares' move, but in the move
Alighted on a square of diverse hue.
The warrior-rukh might traverse every way,
And charge across the battle at his will.
They all contended in their proper lists,
And each observed the limits of his move.
When one of them beheld the king in fight,
Then would he shout and say: “Avaunt, O king!”
Whereat the king would change his square till he
Was straitened where he stood. When rukh and horse,
And minister and elephant and troops,
Had blocked the way for him on every side
The king would look forth o'er that field foursquare,
And see his men o'erthrown, their faces lined,
Escape cut off by water and by trench,
With foes to right and left and front and rear,
And being moveless and fordone would die,*

For so the process of the heaven decreed.
King Gav, the great and good, affected much
The game of chess suggested through Talhand;
His mother studied it. Her heart was filled
With anguish for that prince. Both night and day
She sat possessed by passion and by pain,
With both her eyes intent upon the game.
Her whole desire and purpose centred there;
Her mind was full of anguish for Talhand.
She kept for ever shedding tears of blood,
With chess to medicine her sufferings,
And thus she fared and neither ate nor stirred
Until her life had reached its period.
So now my tale is done that I heard told
With other stories of the days of old.