Šāh-nāmah - The Šahnama of Firdausi, Volume 7

The publication of this translation has advanced sufficiently to enable me to state that it will be completed in nine volumes, the last of which will include a General Index to the whole work.

á as in “water.”

í as in “pique.”

ú as in “rude.”

a as in “servant.”

i as in “sin.”

u as in “foot.”

ai as in “time.”

au as in ou in “cloud.”

g is always hard as in “give.”

kh as ch in the German “buch.”

zh as z in “azure.”

Bahrám's accession and inaugural measures. His adventures, amorous and otherwise, among his subjects. His relations with foreign potentates. His instructions to his officials, and remission of taxation. His introduction of the Gipsies into Írán, and his death.

Bahrám Gúr (Varahran V., A.D. 420-438) is said by Tabarí and Mas'údí to have been twenty years old at the time of his accession.³

According to Tabarí he reigned either eighteen or twenty-three years.^3a

Mas'údí says the latter.^3b

On the other hand Mír Khánd, who tells us that he followed the most generally received account, perhaps Firdausí's own, states that Bahrám reigned sixty-three years.^3c

No doubt popular tradition lovingly prolonged to the utmost the reign of this Sháh who, like James V. of Scotland, was a “King of the Commons.” The poet was at no loss for material in this part of his work, and the reign is the most diverting in the Sháhnáma. Its interest with regard to the question of the provenance of the Arabian Nights has been noted already.^3d

As is to be expected in the circumstances the subject-matter is largely legendary, though some authentic features have been preserved, and there can be little doubt but that Bahrám's own character as depicted by Firdausí is in the main historically correct. He fulfilled the promises made by him when a candidate for the throne, but gave himself up largely to pleasure, though this does not seem to have impaired his activities at critical moments. He appears, too, to have been fortunate in his administrators. His chief minister, Mihr Narsí, who is not to be confounded with Narsí, the Sháh's brother, and three of his sons were at the head of affairs. One was the principal, or nearly so, of the official hierarchy, another was chief superintendent of the taxes, and the third was commander-in-chief. ⁴

Mihr Narsí and his father Buráza are stated to have held office under Yazdagird, Bahrám's father, and the former was reappointed chief minister when Yazdagird, Bahrám's son, came to the throne.^4a

He was himself a prince and an Arsacid, so it would seem that the supplanted family had regained a great position for itself under the new dispensation, and that the state of things fully justified the pronouncement put by later legend into the mouth of Kaid.^4b

Bahrám Gúr began his reign with a persecution of the Christians, which led to war with the Eastern Roman Empire. There is a slight allusion to such a war in the poem,^4c

but the chief incident recorded to have taken place is a pacific one.^4d

§§ 1 and 2. Bahrám devotes the first days of his reign to carrying out his promises of reform made before his accession,^4e

and to the relief of taxation.

§§ 3-16. We have here a series of popular legends of Bahrám's adventures when going about unrecognised among various classes of his subjects.^4f

The story of the miser occurs twice.^4g

§§ 19-22. We have here the story of Bahrám's most famous exploit, which is historical, though as much cannot be said of the various details with which popular appreciation has embellished it. Historically, the foes over whom Bahrám won his great triumph were the Haitálians, or White Huns.^4h

This is clear on Firdausí's own showing when he comes to the reign of Pírúz.⁴ⁱ

Later on again, in the reign of Núshírwán, ample distinction is made between the subjects of the Khán of Chín and the Haitálians.^4j

In substituting the former for the latter on this occasion Firdausí errs in good company. Tabarí, Mas'údí, and Mír Khánd all name the Turks as the enemy,^4k

and since they did not come upon the scene for another century and more,^4l

we learn approximately the earliest date at which the story of Bahrám's exploit could have been edited in its existing form. According to the Persian Tabarí⁵

—the version adapted from the original Arabic by Bal'amí, the minister of the Sámánid prince Mansúr, son of Núh (A.D. 961-976), about A.D. 963—the Khán was put to flight, according to the Arabic^5a

slain in the battle by Bahrám's own hand. Both agree that the Khátún, or wife of the Khán, was taken prisoner and sent to serve in the famous Fire-temple at Shíz, whither Bahrám had gone to pray for success in his expedition.^5b

According to the Arabic Tabarí, Bahrám, as an act of thanksgiving for his victory, relieved his subjects of taxation for three years.^5c

This probably is the popular version of the fact that great reforms in that connexion were effected during his reign, but they could not have been justified, one would think, to the extent stated by the amount of plunder taken from the Haitálians, and still less to the extent described in the Sháhnáma, which affirms that he almost reformed taxation away altogether. It may be added that the various accounts of Bahrám's expedition against the Haitálians are in substantial accord though they differ in detail, e.g. as to how far the enemy had advanced at the time of the battle, the route that Bahrám followed in his march, and the number of troops that he took with him.

§ 24. Bahrám's war with the Eastern Ròman Empire, in which he was not very successful, came to an end in A.D. 422, but Firdausí (§ 19) makes it synchronise with that against the Haitálians which, according to the Persian Tabarí,^5d

took place five years later. Next we hear of an envoy sent by Cæsar (§§ 19, 23), and then of his belated audience with the Sháh. The points discussed are not the terms of peace, but certain “hard questions,”^5e

and it is only incidentally that the envoy mentions that Rúm is ready to pay tribute to Írán. We have a similar case in the reign of Núshírwán when the Rája of Hind sends the game of chess to that Sháh, who returns the compliment with the game of nard,^5f

while in the next volume we shall find the disgraced counsellor Búzurjmihr regaining the favour of the same Sháh by his success in solving another problem set by Cæsar.

§§ 26-38. For instances in the Sháhnáma of kings going incognito to visit foreign courts, see Vol. vi. pp. 325, 335. In the Arabic Tabarí, Bahrám's motive for visiting Hind is to see whether by annexing a portion of it he could lighten the taxes of his own subjects.⁶

Unlike his expedition against the Khán of Chín, as Firdausí puts it, and historically against the Haitálians, the one to Hind appears to be wholly fabulous. It is given, however, at length by Tabarí and Mír Khánd, and mentioned by Mas'údí.^6a

It will be seen that Bahrám in the course of his well meant efforts to promote the welfare of his subjects does not find it quite so easy as he expected to make everybody happy by legislation.

§ 39. Professor Nöldeke is inclined to consider Bahrám's importation of Gipsies from Hind to Írán historical.^6b

The details of course belong to the province of popular legend, but are delightfully characteristic of both parties concerned. The Gipsy language appears to be a debased form of Hindústání. According to Mír Khánd the Gipsies intermarried with the Persians, and the Jats were said to be their offspring. Consequently nearly every Jat is a musician.^6c

§ 40. Firdausí is almost alone in his statement that Bahrám Gúr died in his bed. The common account is that he was killed when out hunting by falling into one of the underground watercourses, so common in Persia, and that his body never was recovered. Popular tradition places the scene of his death in a valley between Shíráz and Ispahán and known as the “Vale of Heroes,” where there are numerous springs supposed to be intercommunicating and of great depth. Sir John Malcolm states that one of his escort was drowned in 1810 when bathing in the identical spring in which Bahrám is said to have perished.^6d

Tabarí lays the scene of the accident in Media, and it took place, if it took place at all, probably not far from Hamadán at a spot called, according to Dínawarí, Dái Marj. Nöldeke, however, considers that the whole story was made up to account for the nickname “Gúr” bestowed upon Bahrám. The word in question means both “onager” and “tomb.”^6e

The same collocation of letters also means a “Fire-worshipper,” and it is possible that some Muhammadan translator from the Pahlaví may have thought fit to dispatch the guebre to the grave.

Whenas Bahrám Gúr sat upon the throne
The sun acclaimed him while the Sháh adored
The Maker—the all-seeing, watchful World-lord,

Abstain from greed and trouble not thyself.”
The fifth day he said thus: “I have no joy
In others' toils for mine aggrandisement;
We toil in quest of jocund Paradise;
He that hath sown but seed of good is blest.”
The sixth day said he to his subjects: “Never
May we ensue defeat; we will protect
Our troops from foes and make malignants tremble.”

And treat all justly howsoe'er perverse.
I will be juster than mine ancestors,
And guide you to the Faith—that of Zarduhsht,
The prophet—quitting not my fathers' path.
I put the Faith of old Zarduhsht before me;
The way of that true prophet is mine own.
Be ye all sovereign in your own affairs,
And guard your marches and your loyalty,
Kings of your children and your women-folk:
Blest is the man that is both wise and pure.
If God accord us life and favouring stars
We will not fill our treasury with gold;
Such treasures keep the poor in travail. Read
This joyful letter which assureth you
Of lasting wealth and honour. To all kings
Our greeting, most to those whose warp and woof
Are love.”’”

They sealed the letters and made choice

Of glorious onvoys. Archmage, man of lore,
And wary cavalier, those letters bore.

Next day when Sol rose, when the hills bulked large,
And sleep was broken, to Munzir there came
A panic-stricken throng and said to him:—

and gems of every hue.
He gave all to Nu'mán and to Munzir,
And Jawánwí told o'er to them the gifts.
None matched the Sháh in bounty and in travail.
He gave the other Arabs many presents,
So that they left the royal halls, rejoicing.
He then had brought a royal robe of honour,
A steed, and raiment of a paladin;
These gave they to Khusrau, made much of him,
And seated him upon the glorious throne.
Then, turning from Khusrau,¹¹

the king of kings,
Descending from his throne, approached the seat
Where sat Narsí—a prince, his younger brother,
And one with him in heart and tongue. He made
Narsí the captain of the host to set
The land in order, gave up to his keeping
The host at large, and ravished all the realm
With bounty, oped the treasury, and paid
The troops who gladdened with dínárs. The Sháh,
That man of lore, then bade Gushasp, the scribe,
With prudent Jawánwí, the chief accountant,
Approach, and ordered them to cancel all
Arrears of taxes for the Íránians.

These he forgave,
And burnt the registers, and all Írán
Rejoiced thereat. Whenas all folk were ware
Of that event they praised him mightily.
They all flocked to the Fire-fanes, to the halls
Where New Year's Day and Sada feast were kept,
Flung musk upon the Fire and blessed Bahrám,
The Sháh. Thereafter he dispatched officials
To go about the world. He sought and gathered
Within a certain city all the exiles
Of Yazdagird that thus the monarch's letter
Might reach those noble Persians, and inquire
Their wishes, sent each chief a robe of honour,
And gave to each a province that befitted
His station. Noble, archimage, and marchlord,
Whoever heard Bahrám's deliverance,
All visited his court with open hearts,
And blithe of countenance. He bade each suitor
Repair to the high priest and, when the world
Had recognised his bidding, he let stand
A herald at his gate thus to proclaim:—
“Ye subjects of the watchful Sháh! abstain
From sorrow and from sin, and praise henceforth
Him through whose justice earth is prosperous.
Take refuge from the world with God alone,
For He possesseth all and helpeth all.
The man that giveth heed to our command,
Not turning from our path and fealty,
To him will we increase our benefits,
And clear our mind of hate and covetise;
But whosoever shunneth what is just
Shall suffer retribution at our hands.
If God hereafter shall vouchsafe us strength,
And matters turn out to our heart's content,
We will add benefit to benefit,
And ye shall utter praise on our account.”
At these words all the people of Írán
Went full of joy and bright of countenance,
And, as the sovereignty became secure,
Joy waxed and sorrow minished, while the Sháh
In feasting, horsemanship upon the Ground,
In sport and polo, full employment found.

So Bahrám

Inquired about the two, their words and ways.
A worthy said: “Lambak, the water-carrier,
O great, famed, noble king! is generous,
Doth keep a table, and is well disposed.
He passeth half the day in water-carrying,
The other half in entertaining guests,
And leaveth nothing over for the morrow,
While Baráhám is but a barren Jew,
And grasping, and his greed should be exposed.
He hath drachms, treasure, and dínárs, brocades,
And goods of all kinds, but none seeth his bread,
And he is ever wrathful at a guest.”¹³

The Sháh then bade a herald: “Go, proclaim
Before the court: ‘To every one concerned:
The water of the water-carrier,
Lambak, is bad to drink.’”

He stayed till Sol

Grew pale, then mounted a fleet steed and came,
Like wind, toward the dwelling of Lambak,
Knocked with the ring against the door, and cried:—
“A captain of the Íránian host am I,
The night is dark, and I have far to go.
Let me lodge here to-night. I will behave
With honour and discretion.”

Then Lambak,

Pleased with the voice of one that spake so fairly,
Made answer straight: “Come in, O cavalier!
And may the king approve thee. If ten others
Were with thee it were better: each had been
A moon above my head.”

Then Sháh Bahrám

Dismounted, and Lambak saw to the steed.
He gladly rubbed it down and haltered it,
Then, when Bahrám was seated, ran and brought
A chess-board¹⁴

and made shift to furnish food,
And all things needful, saying: “Noble sir!

The eating done, the host in high delight
Brought out a cup of wine. The Sháh was all
Amazement at that feast of his, kind speech,
And cheery mien, passed night there, and at dawn
Woke at the salutation of Lambak,
Who said: “Thy steed, good sooth, fared ill last
night.
Stay just this one day with me, and if thou
Wouldst have a comrade we will summon one,
And find the needful. Joy with me one day.”
The king made answer to the water-carrier:—
“I have not much on hand to-day.”

Lambak

Departed, taking divers water-skins,
But nobody appeared to buy his water.
In dudgeon he put off his vest and, taking
His porter's knot and bucket in his arms,
Went and procured instead at the bázár
Meat and dried curds, and in due course put on
The pot. His guest took note of all his trouble.
Lambak prepared the meal; they ate and drank,
And had another sitting. All that night
Bahrám had wine in hand; Lambak too loved it.
When it was day he hurried to Bahrám,
And said: “Be merry night and day, and franked
From trouble, grief, and toil. Consort with me
For yet another day, for, know, thy presence
Is life and goods to me.”

“Now God forbid

That we should not be happy for a third day,”
Bahrám said, while the water-carrier blessed him:—
“Be merry in thy heart and mate with fortune.”
He took to the bázár his water-skins
And tackle, which he pledged to some rich man,
Bought what he needed and returned in haste
Rejoicing to Bahrám, and said to him:—
“Help with the food, for man must cat.”

Bahrám

Took the meat promptly from him, cut it up,
And then proceeded with the cookery.
When they had eaten they took wine and goblet,
And first of all drank to the king of kings.
Lambak, when they had drunk, prepared for sleep,
And set a candle by Bahrám Gúr's couch.
The fourth day, when the sun shone and Bahrám Gúr
Awoke, his host approached and said: “Famed sir!
Thou hast resided in this small, dark house,

He stole away and made toward the house
Of barren Baráhám, knocked at the door,
And said: “The Sháh hath come back from the
chase,
But I was left behind. 'Tis night and I
Know not the way, can find not Sháh and escort.
If I may sojourn in this house to-night
I will not trouble any one.”

A slave

Went and reported this to Baráhám,
Who answered: “Trouble not thyself hereat,
But say: ‘Thou wilt not get a lodging here.’”
The messenger departed to Bahrám Gúr,
And said: “There is no shelter here for thee.”
Bahrám replied: “Return to him and say:
‘I mean to stop. I ask thee for a lodging
To-night and I will trouble thee no further.’”
The servant, hearing this, ran back and said:—
“This horseman will not budge to-night and saith
As much in many words.”

Said Baráhám:—

“Go instantly and say: ‘This house is small.
The Jew is very poor and every night
Reposeth, bare and hungry, on the ground.’”
They gave the message, and Bahrám Gúr said:—
“If here my lodging will prove troublesome
I will not enter but will sleep outside
The door, 'tis all I want.”

Said Baráhám:—

“Brave horseman! thoughtlessly¹⁷

thou troublest me.
Were any one to rob thee in thy sleep
I should be plagued enough on thine account.

“My good sir!”

Bahrám rejoined, “I will not trouble thee
In any way. Thy portal will suffice.
I will be watchman, barring bell and cry.”
Then Baráhám was troubled, and his soul
A brake of cares. He thought: “This saucy fellow
Will not depart. How can I cause him trouble
About his steed?” then said again: “Great sir!
Thy many words afflict me. If thy steed
Shall leave its droppings here and stale or break
The tiles, thou shalt remove its dung at dawn,
Sweep up, bear off its refuse to the plain,
And pay for any breakages at once.”
Bahrám replied: “I pledge my head to this.”
Dismounting from his steed he tethered it
With its own bridle and unsheathed his sword.
He spread his saddle-cloth, used as his pillow
The saddle, and reposed upon the floor.
The Jew secured the door, brought victuals forth,
And sat him down to eat. “O cavalier!”
He said, “remember, having heard, this saw:—
‘Who hath may eat and who hath not look on.’”
He answered: “I have heard so from of old,
And now I have beheld made manifest
What thou hast quoted from a sage's words.”
The Jew brought wine forth and, when satiate
With food and blither for the drinking, bawled:—
“O toilful horseman! list this ancient saw:—
‘He that hath food and purposeth to eat
Will offer his thanksgiving for the meat,
For one of substance hath a happy mind,
And in his wealth a coat of mail will find;
But Empty Pockets is a dry-lipped wight,
And, like thee, ravenous at mid of night.’”
Bahrám replied: “'Tis passing wonderful
What I have seen, and must not be forgotten,
And if thy goblet give thee good at last
Then heigh for drinker, wine, and genial cup!”
When o'er the mountains Sol displayed its sword
Bahrám Gúr shunned more sleep and put the saddle
On his fleet grey. His saddle! Nay, hard pillow.
Came Baráhám and said: “O cavalier!
Thou art not faithful to thy word. Thou saidst:—

And I will give him gold for sweeping up,
And bearing off, the refuse to the plain.”
“No one have I,” he said, “to sweep up refuse,
Take it away, and fling it in the ditch.
Break not thy promises deceitfully;
Let me not say that thou hast played the knave.”
Bahrám Gúr, hearing, took another course.
He had a dainty handkerchief of silk
Inside his boot, all musk and spicery;
He took it out and put therein the droppings,
Then flung them all together in the ditch.
Away went Baráhám and snatched it up
While Sháh Bahrám stood dazed. “Oho!” said he,
“Thou scrupulous! If the great king shall hear
Of all thy nobleness he will secure thee
From want in this world, and will set thee high
Among the chiefs.”

He went back to his palace,

And all night long was planning what to do.
Within his halls thought banished all repose,
He laughed himself but kept the matter close.

Next morn he donned his crown and held an audience,
Then called to him Lambak, the water-carrier,
Who came before him with enfolded arms.
They brought withal and quickly Baráhám,
That curst, malicious Jew. When he arrived
They made him sit and called an honest man,
To whom the Sháh said: “Take some baggage-beasts
And, acting with the utmost honesty,
Go to the house of Baráhám forthwith,
And look thou bring what thou find'st hoarded there.”
That honest man went to the Jew's abode.
The house was all brocade, dínárs, and raiment,
All carpetings, and draperies, and hoards.
There was a caravanserai attached,
And no room too on earth for all the goods—
Gold, silver, every gem, and, on the top
Of every bag, a lofty diadem.
The archmage's reckoning failed. He called for camels,
A thousand from the desert of Jahram,

That good man drove apace the caravans,
And, when the bells resounded from the court-gate,
Went and informed the Sháh: “As many gems
Are here as in thy treasury, yet are left
Two hundred ass-loads!”

Thought the Sháh, amazed:—

“The Jew hath greatly toiled, but to what profit
Since food hath failed him?”

Then the Sháh, the world-lord,

Bestowed a hundred camel-loads of gold,
Of drachms, of carpets, and things great and small
Upon the water-carrier. Lambak
Departed with his treasures. Then the Sháh
Called Baráhám and said to him: “O thou
Consorting in thy meanness with the dust!
Dost tell me that thy prophet was long-lived,
And yet bewail life's superfluities?^20a

A horseman came and quoted me this saw,
Out of the sayings of the past, which saith:—
‘Hath will enjoy and Hath not withereth.’
So now withdraw thy grasping hand and watch
Henceforth the enjoyment of the water-carrier.”
Then to that vile Jew of the synagogue
He spake at large of droppings, handkerchief
Gold-woven, and tiles, bestowed upon the knave
Four drachms, and said: “Take this as capital;
No more befitteth thee. To mendicants
Thy wealth, to thee thy head.”

He gave the poor

All that there was. The Jew departed wailing.
The Sháh gave up the house to plundering;
'Twas well that other folk should have their fling.

He found employment for the hunting cheetah,
Bestirred him and was minded for the chase.
He mounted him upon a speedy steed,
And pricked forth to the plain with hawk on hand.
He found a wood that was a rich man's seat.
It was as verdurous as Paradise,
And there was neither man nor beast in sight.
He said: “Here lions should be found. No man
Of prudence would sleep here.”

He entered in,

And rode about surveying it. He saw
A lion there and that he must employ
The scimitar. He shouted at the beast
And, when it bravely charged him, rode outside

And I will bring thee milk and wine and honey.
I have as many lambs as thou canst want
With trees fruit-laden that will furnish shade.”
The Sháh alighted and surveyed the forest;
He found it verdurous, supplied with streams,
And fitted for a young man's dwelling-place.
Then Mihr Bídád went and fetched minstrelsy
As well as divers of the village-chiefs.
He slaughtered numbers of fat sheep and came,
Gold cup in hand. When they had eaten bread
The servants set on cups of wine with roses
And fenugreek. The host quaffed one and gave
Another to Bahrám and took all pains
To set him at his case. When Mihr Bídád
Grew blithe with wine he said: “Fair-fortuned hero!
Thou favourest the Sháh or the full moon
At midnight.”

Said Bahrám: “Yea, that is so;

The King of kings designed this face of mine.
He maketh as He willeth, waxing not
Nor waning, but if I am like the Sháh
Then I have given thee this seat and forest.”
This said, he mounted, sought his pleasure-palace,
Bemused, but sleepless in the garth all night
Romanced about the lips of the beloved.

The world-lord

Grew pale of cheek thereat and sorrowful,
And from the palace proclamation issued:—
“Ye men of name endowed with Grace and sense!
Wine is a thing forbidden in the world
Alike to paladin and artisan.”
Thus passed a year while all held wine forbidden
E'en when the Sháh himself held revelry,
Or called for tales from old time legendry.

When the talk grew long

She hurried to the Sháh and told him all,
First doing her obeisance and exclaiming:—
“Live happily till time shall be no more.
This youth, who had not come to man's estate,
Must take himself a partner and keep house,
And then prove impotent! His wife, she said:—
‘This weakling was self-sown!’ All privily
I gave to him three cups of wine, and none
In all the world was ware thereof. Forthwith

The Sháh smiled on the crone, and said:—

“This is no tale to hide.”

He thus addressed

The archmage: “Wine is now permissible,
And we should drink thereof to his extent
Who in his cups still can bestride a lion,
And not be overthrown, but not to his
Who lieth all dead-drunk upon the road
What while some black crow pecketh out his eyes.”
A proclamation went up from the gate:—
“O paladins who wear the golden girdle!
Drink wine in moderation, all of you!
Considering the end when ye begin,
And when the wine hath led you to delight
Then go to sleep but not in helpless plight.”

The third day at the dawn the Sháh went forth,
He and his men, to hunt upon the plain;
Hurmuz, his minister, was on his left,
And on his right the holy archimage.
They told him tales, discoursing of Jamshíd
And Farídún.²⁶

Before them were the hounds,
The cheetahs, hawks, and falcons. Thus they shortened
The tedious day. Bright Sol was high, but still
They saw no trace of deer or onager,
And so Bahrám Gúr, troubled by the heat,
Turned back in dudgeon from the hunting-field.
He came upon a verdurous spot fulfilled
With houses, men, and cattle. Many folk
Came from the settlement to see the troops,
But no man did obeisance! Thou hadst said:—
“The earth hath tethered every ass of them!”
The monarch, vexed and overcome by heat,
Had fixed upon that village for a halt.
Its folk disgusted him, he viewed them not
With favour, and in anger thus addressed
The high priest: “What an ill-starred spot is this!
Be it a lair for wild beasts and for game,
And may its streams run pitch.”

The archimage,

Who took this for an order, turned aside

Going from the royal presence

The archmage sped forth to that scene of ruin.
From street to street he hurried and at last
Came on an old man unemployed. Dismounting
He spake the elder fair, made him sit down
Near by, and said to him: “Old, honoured sir!
Who wrecked this district once so populous?”
The old man answered thus: “Our monarch once
Was passing through our parts, and thereupon
There came to us a witless archimage,
One of those useless people with big names,
And said to us: ‘Ye all are chieftains here:
See that ye pay respect to nobody.
Be masters, all of you, both men and women,
And great among the great.’ Such were his words,

Rúzbih,

Grieved for that old man, asked: “Who is your
chief?”
The other answered: “Who will have a place
Where there is naught excepting seed and grass?”
Rúzbih replied: “Be thou the governor,
Be as the crown upon the head in all things,
Make requisition from the world-lord's treasures
For money, oxen, asses, grain, and produce;
Bring to the village all the unemployed;
They all are subjects, thou alone art chief,
And curse no more the ancient archimage,
Who spake not as he would in what he said.
If thou wilt have assistants from the court
I will dispatch them. Ask for what thou wilt.”
The elder joyed to hear this and was freed
From longsome grief. He hied him home forthwith,
Brought others to his Cistern and began
To people and apportion out the lands.
They borrowed from their neighbours ox and ass,
And furnished all the plain. He and his settlers
Worked hard and planted many trees on all sides,
And, when his labour had restored one piece,
The hearts of those that dwelt therein rejoiced.
Those that had fled, their heart's blood in their eyes,
Flocked back on hearing of that restoration,
And of the toils of that white-headed chief,
And reinstated street and water-course,
While fowl, ox, ass, and sheep all multiplied
Upon the cultured parts, and everywhere
Folk planted trees till that waste spot became
Like Paradise. The third year he restored
The town: the chief was blessed in all his labours.
When jocund spring came round the Sháh went forth
Upon the plain a-hunting with Rúzbih,
The high priest. When the pair drew near the hamlet
Bahrám Gúr suddenly beheld the world
All crops and cattle, lofty mansions rose,
And all the township thronged with sheep and oxen.
'Twas all streams, pleasances, and growing crops,
And fenugreek and tulips filled the hills,
Whereon roamed sheep and lambs, for hill and dale
Had grown to be a paradise. The Sháh

The high priest answered:—

“This ancient seat was ruined by a word,
And by a word restored, to please the Sháh.
He bade me: ‘Take thou treasure and dínárs,
And make this verdant spot a wilderness,’
But I feared God and blame from great and small.
When friends, though one in heart, are two in aim
'Tis ruin, as I have perceived, to both;
So when there are two rulers in a state
Their land will be o'erturned. I went and said
Thus to the elders of this settlement:—
‘O men! there is no ruler over you
From this time forth, but women, children, slaves,
Hirelings and husbandmen, are lords alike.’
When those who had been underlings became
Lords too the nobles' heads were all brought low,
And all the place was ruined by a word.
Thus was I far removed from all reproach,
And apprehension of God's chastisement.
Thereafter, when the Sháh had ruth on them,
I went and pointed out another course;
I made a wise, old man and eloquent,
A man of leading and informed, the ruler.
He laboured and restored the waste, rejoicing
His subjects' hearts. When one man ruled, the counsel
Was good, prosperity increased, ill waned.
I, unobserved, had shown them what was bad,
And opened afterward the way of God.
Discourse is better than fine-watered gems
When 'tis employed aright. Let wisdom be
The Sháh, the tongue the paladin, if thou
Wouldst have thy spirit easy. May thy heart
Be glad for aye and free from wile and waste.”
The Sháh, on hearing, cried: “Well done, Rúzbih!
Thou'rt worthy of a crown!”

Bahrám Gúr gave

That old man worshipful and prescient
A purse all filled with gold dínárs. For him
A robe of honour too they fashionéd
Of royal stuffs, and cloud-ward raised his head.

Another week the monarch of the world
Went forth to hunt with lords and archimages,
Prepared to spend a month upon the chase,
To revel with his meiny, and to take

The king of kings gazed at the light and spied
A pleasant village with a mill before it,
Where sat the village-chiefs, while all the maidens,
Each with a crown of roses on her head,
Were feasting by themselves beside the fire.
The minstrels sat about, the maidens sang
Tales of the royal wars, and every one
Began to tell a story in her turn.
They all were moon-faced, all had lock??curl,
All were sweet-spoken, and all savoured musk.
They sat ranked on the grass and close before
The mill-door, singing, with a posy each,
And half bemused with wine and merriment.
Then from that scene of revel rose a cry,
And one exclaimed: “The toast of Sháh Bahrám!
He hath Grace, stature, mien, and love. Before him
The rolling sphere upstandeth. Thou wouldst say:—
‘His face distilleth wine, the scent of musk
Proceedeth from his hair.’ He only hunteth
The lion and the onager, and so
Folk title him ‘Bahrám Gúr.’”

This he heard,

And rode toward them. Drawing near the girls
He scanned the plain, beheld it filled with Moons,
And saw that he should stop short of the city.
He bade, and from the road cup-bearers came,
Provided wine and boon-companions,
And handed him a crystal cup. Meanwhile
Four of the girls, those chief in rank, came forth—
One Mushkináb,³²

the others Mushkinak,
Náztáb, and Súsanak. With checks like spring,
With stately mien, and hand in hand, they went
Before the Sháh and sang about Bahrám,
The king of kings, the wise and prosperous.
Bahrám Gúr asked, for they perturbed his heart:—
“Who are ye,^32a

rose-cheeked? Wherefore is this fire?”
One said: “O cavalier of cypress-height,
So like a king in everything! our father

The old man offered praise,

And said: “There is no husband for them; they
Are maidens still and pure in chastity,
But that is all the property they have,
And this is all that I can say for them.”
Bahrám said: “Give me all the four, and henceforth
Regard them not as daughters.”

Quoth the ancient:—

“Do not as thou hast said, O cavalier!
No cups have we, no land, no crops, no silver,
No mansion, ox, and ass.”

Bahrám Gúr said:—

“'Tis well, for I would have them portionless.”
The miller said: “The four shall be thy wives,
The handmaids of the dust within they chambers.
Thine eye hath seen their good points and their ill,
And, seeing, hath approved.”

Bahrám Gúr said:—

“From holy God, the All-giver, I accept them.”
He spake and rose. Steeds neighed upon the plain.
He bade the eunuchs of his escort bear
Those Idols to the royal women's house,
And through the night the troops filed o'er the waste.
The miller marvelled, mused all night, and said
Thus to his wife: “This moon-like lord so tall
And masterful, how came he here by night?”
She answered: “He perceived the fire from far,
The noise the girls were making, and the sound
Of minstrels, harp, and revelry.”

The miller

Said to his wife: “Advise me, O my spouse!
If this affair will turn out well or ill?”
She answered: “It is all God's providence.
The man, on seeing them, asked not their race,
Thought not of dowry. On earth's face he sought
For Moons and not for money or kings' daughters.
If idol-worshippers saw these in Chín
There would be no more idol-worshipping!”

Good fortune visited thy couch last night!
The verdant branches of thy tree bear fruit.
One looked, beheld the merriment and fire,
And, having turned his horse about, drew near;
So now thy daughters have become his wives,
And rest securely in his women's house.
By giving them such faces, hair, and carriage
Thou didst prepare them for the Sháh! Bahrám,
The king of kings, is now thy son-in-law!
Henceforth thou wilt be famous through the realm.
He hath bestowed upon thee all this province
And march, so sorrow not, for thou hast 'scaped
From cares and fears. Command. 'Tis thine to bid.
We all of us are thralls and bound to thee;
We all of us are subject to thee now,
Are subject! Rather we are all thy slaves.”
The miller and his wife in their amaze
Invoked God's name. The village-chieftain said:—
“Such locks as those and countenances too
Would bring the sun from his fourth heaven to woo.”

Another week he went forth to the chase
With favourites from the host and archimages.
Swift as the wind there came a loyal liege
With spade in hand and asking of the troops
Where was Bahrám, the Sháh, amid the throng?
An archimage replied: “What wilt thou? Speak.
Thou canst not see the monarch of the world.”³⁵

The man said: “Since I may see not his face
I will speak not before his followers.”
They brought before the Sháh that seeker—one
Both learned and eloquent—who seeing him
Said: “I have words to speak to thee in private.”
Bahrám Gúr turned his horse's head aside,
And rode some distance from his followers' sight.
Then said the man: “O world-possessing Sháh!
Thou must observe my words. A countryman
Am I, and landlord here. I own the soil,
The homestead, and the crops. I was engaged
In making water-courses on my land
To benefit my property, and when
There was much water, and the stream ran strong,
In one place there was formed an orifice,

Hearing this

Bahrám Gúr went and saw a plain all verdure,
And watered, bade bring labourers with spades
From far, and lighted from his steed. They pitched
His tent among the crops. Night came. The warriors
Lit lamps and everywhere enkindled fires.
Now when the sun set up above the deep
Its banner, burnishing the violet air,
The workmen mustered from all sides, as though
A mighty army, and began to dig.
That portion of the plain was excavate,
And, as the workers wearied, there appeared
Out of the dust a mount-like place—a mansion
Of mortar and burnt brick—like Paradise.
They plied their picks; far down a doorway showed,
An archmage, seeing, entered by the door,
He and another uninvited guest.
They found a single chamber long and wide,
And many cubits high. Within it stood
Two buffaloes of gold and, fronting them,
A golden laver strewn with emeralds
And rubies mixed. They seemed two Signs of Taurus,
Were hollow, and were filled up with pomegranates,
With apples, and with quinces that contained
Fine-watered pearls, each like a water-drop.
The buffaloes had jewel-eyes, and heads
Decayed with age. Ranked round them there were
lions
And onagers, some having ruby eyes,
And others crystal. There were golden pheasants
And peacocks, with their breasts and eyes all gems.
The minister, whose wisdom was a crown
Upon the moon, on seeing that spectacle,
Went to the Sháh and cried excitedly:—
“Arise. Enough to dower thy treasuries
Is here! A chamber filled with precious stones
Is manifest, whose key high heaven hath kept!”
His lord said: “One of counsel and of might
Would write his name upon his treasures. See
Whose name is there and when they were amassed.”
On hearing this the high priest went and saw
The impress of the signet of Jamshíd
Upon the buffaloes, and notified
The monarch of the world: “I have beheld,
And ‘Sháh Jamshíd’ is on the buffaloes.”

He went back to the treasure

Won by his sweat and toil, assembled all
The warriors of the realm, and gave his troops
A whole year's pay. He held a feast that spring,
Adorned his hall of jewelled tracery,
And, when the red wine shone in crystal cups,
And he himself was jocund and right glad,
He thus harangued his friends: “Exalted ones,
Who know the token of the throne of kings!
Down from Húshang as far as famed Naudar,
Who was a memory of Farídún,
And on again right up to Kai Kubád,
Who placed the crown of greatness on his head,
See who of all these mighty men is left,
And who remaineth to applaud their justice?
Now, since the circle of their years is cut,
Their reputation is their monument,
Which saith that this had spirit, that had not,
And one doth blame them, and another praise.
We all shall pass in turn, and not to walk

One day, another week, he went to hunt,
When indisposed, and took his bow and arrows.
The plain grew sultry with the blazing sun.
He came back from his hunting leisurely,
And reached a merchant's house, to whom he said,
On looking round and seeing none beside:
“Canst give us lodging since thou wilt not find us
A trouble?”

The merchant found a place for him. The Sháh,
Complaining of the colic, gave the merchant
Some drachms, and said: “Toast some old cheese
with almonds.”
The merchant did not do as he was asked,
Not having almonds by him, but, at night-fall
And at his leisure, got a hot roast fowl,
And served it to Bahrám upon a tray,
Who said: “I asked thee for old cheese, besought thee
To bring it, and thou hast not brought it me
Although I gave thee drachms and had complained
Of colic.”

Said the merchant: “Foolish fellow!

Thy soul is starving through thy lack of wit.
Since I have brought to thee this hot roast fowl
Mere shame should stay thee asking aught beside.”
Bahrám thereat ceased longing for old cheese.
Grieved at his words he ate, referring not
To what had passed. When it was sleeping-time
He slept and said naught further to the merchant.
Now when the sun rose o'er the heaving deep,
And when the Cloak pitch-hued had disappeared,
The wealthy merchant said to his apprentice:—
“O simpleton! why didst thou buy a fowl
Not worth a drachm for more and wrong me so?
Had't been a proper fowl then he and I
Had fallen not out last night, or hadst thou spent
A quarter of a drachm in buying cheese
He would have been to me like milk and water
To-day.”

The apprentice answered: “'Tis all one.

Know that the fowl is at my charge. Be thou
And he my guests, so quarrel not with me
About the bird.”

Now when Bahrám arose

From pleasant sleep he sought his docile steed
To saddle it and go back to his palace,
And from his palace raise his crown to Saturn.
The apprentice, seeing him, said to Bahrám:—
“Give to thy slave thy company to-day.”
The Sháh returned, sat down again, and mar-
velled
At fortune. Then the youth went out and fetched
Two hundred almonds and addressed his master:—
“Bestir thee, sir! and have these almonds toasted,
Make ready too some cheese and some new bread,
For such the cavalier asked yesterday,
Bring food and spread the board.”

He went before

Bahrám and said: “O cavalier! I bring thee

Then rubbing down and saddling

Shabdíz he started, blithe with wine, for court,
First saying to the merchant: “Toil not so
In quest of gain, O thou that sellest dear!
Thou wouldst have sold me for a quarter drachm
Yestreen, sewn up the eyes of thine apprentice
Because he bought a fowl above the price,
And have put me within the dragon's maw.”
He spake and sped back to his royal seat.
Now when the sun displayed its crown in heaven
The guardian of the world sat on his throne
Of ivory and bade the chamberlain
Seek out the merchant and conduct him thither
With his apprentice. One of them was glad,
The other glum. Bahrám, on seeing the apprentice,
Made much of him and seated him rejoicing
Among the lords. They brought to him a purse,
And made his awe-gloomed spirit like the moon.
Then to the merchant said Bahrám: “Know this:
Thou shalt be slave for life to thine apprentice,
And, further, pay him twice in every month
Three score drachms from thy savings. With thy
goods
He shall be entertainer and make laugh
The hearts of noble men.”

Then to the high priest:—

“The king that disregardeth this world's doings,
How can he know what man is truly great,
Or how discern the evil from the good?”⁴²

So now, O sage that seekest wisdom's way!
If thou must have a saw hear what I say:—
“Avoid all avarice if man thou be,
Or be indeed below humanity.”

He answered:—

“Choose we a thousand horsemen from the host,
And let them bring the cheetahs and the hawks,
The falcons and the noble peregrines,
Go to Túrán and pass a month in hunting.”
The royal hunter went. He found the world
All hues and scent. His gallant chieftains swept it
For onager, gazelle, and mountain-sheep—
A labour that extended o'er two days—
What while Bahrám had wine in hand; the third,
When Sol illumed its crown, when earth grew golden,
And hill and stream became as ivory,
The valiant Sháh went to the chase and saw
A dragon like a lion. From its head
Hair hung down to the ground, and it had breasts
Like those of women. Then Bahrám Gúr strung
His bow and shot forthwith a poplar arrow
Against the dragon's chest. He shot another
Straight at its head, and gore and venom flowed
Adown its front. The king dismounted, drew
His sword, and carved up all the dragon's breast.
It had gulped down a youth and frozen him
In blood and bane. Bahrám bewailed him sorely
What while the venom blinded his own eyes.
He took the corpse out of the dragon's maw,
Ne'er may its head and breast unite again.
He rode off dizzied, suffering, and longing
For sleep and water, reached a settlement,
Arriving at a house-door from the waste,
And saw a woman shouldering a pitcher.
She veiled her face from him. He said to her:—
“Can I lodge here or must I toil on still?”
She said: “Brave horseman! treat this house as
thine.”
On hearing this he rode his courser in.
His hostess called her husband. “Bring a wisp,”
She said, “and rub his steed. At feeding-time
Feed from the sack.”

Swept out the house and laid down mat and pillow,
With blessings on Bahrám, went to the cistern,
Drew water, and berated to herself
Her spouse the while: “The fool will ne'er bestir
Himself on seeing some one in the house.
This is not women's work, but for my part
I, soldier-like, can only grin and bear it!”
She brought and spread the board with vinegar
And salad, bread and curds. Went Sháh Bahrám,
And bathed his face, for he had been o'erwrought
In fighting with that dragon. So he ate
A little, then lay down and groaned, his face
Concealed beneath a kerchief made in Chín.
The woman, when she woke, said to her spouse:—
“O knave with unwashed face! thou shouldest slay
A lamb because this cavalier is great,
And of the royal seed, hath kingly bearing,
And moon-like Grace, and he is like to none
Save Sháh Bahrám.”

Her mean spouse said to her:—

“Why such to-do? Thou hast no salted meat,
No fire-wood, and no bread, and spinnest not
A-nights as others do. When thou hast killed
A lamb, and he—this cavalier—hath eaten
And gone, then go, buy, mingle with the throng;
The winter, cold, and blast undoubtedly
Will come on thee no less.”

So spake her spouse.

She hearkened not, for she was good and wise,
And in the end her husband slew a lamb
At her entreaty for the cayalier.
When it was slain she made a pot of broth,
And lit a fire with half-burnt sticks, then brought
The tray with eggs thereon and water-cresses,
A roasted leg of lamb and everything
That she had cooked. Bahrám, when he had washed
His hands, his dinner done, felt indisposed
For slumber and still ailed. Now when the night
Foregathered with the sun the woman fetched
Wine and a harp. “O woman of few words!”
The Sháh said, “tell to me some old-world tale
That while thou art reciting I may quaff
To chase away my pain and cares. I give thee
Free speech about the Sháh for praise or blame.”
That woman of few words said: “Yea, 'tis well,
For he is first and last in everything.”
Bahrám responded: “He is so indeed,
But he is just and good to nobody.”
That dame of spirit said: “O honest man!
This place hath many folk and many homes,

She brought the cow

From pasture, got much grass, and threw it down
Before her; then she tried the udders, crying:—
“In God's name who hath neither mate nor peer!”
She found the udder milkless, and the heart
Of that young hostess aged. She told her husband:—
“Good man! our monarch's heart hath changed in
purpose,
The world's king hath become tyrannical!
A secret change came o'er his heart last night.”
He said: “What words are these? Why go and
croak?”
She thus replied: “My dear one! what I say
Is sober truth, for when the Sháh, the world-lord,
Hath grown unjust the moon may shine not forth
In heaven, the udders are dry, the musk-bags lose
Their scent, adultery and guile are rampant,
The tender heart becometh flinty, wolves
Devour folk on the waste, the sage doth flee
The fool, and eggs are addled 'neath the hens
What time the Sháh becometh tyrannous.
The pasture of this cow had minished not,
Her watering-place supplied her as before,
Yet is her udder dry, her lowing changed.”
On hearing this the Sháh forthwith repented,

The milk flowed forth.

The good wife cried: “O God, our Succourer!
Thou hast recalled to justice the unjust,
For, if not so, this virtue were not his.”
Then said she to the master of the house:—
“The justice of the unjust is restored.
Laugh and rejoice; this is the Maker's boon
To us.”

Now when the porridge had been cooked,

And man and wife had done that chare, the good dame,
And after her the master of the house,
Who bare the tray, went to their guest. Upon it
There was a bowl of porridge, oh! how good
Had it been but some broth! The Sháh ate somewhat,
Then spake thus to that kindly dame: “Take thou
This whip outside and hang it where folk pass.
Choose out a proper bough because the wind
Must harm it not, then note the passers by
With one eye on the whip.”

The good-man went

Forthwith, he hung the whip upon a tree,
And kept his eye thereon a while. There came
Innumerable troops along the road,
And all that saw the whip there hailed Bahrám.
They lighted down before that lengthy whip,
And passed saluting. “'Tis the Sháh, none else!”
The good-man told his spouse. “Naught but the
throne
Could fit a face like that!”

Then full of awe

Both ran to him and cried: “O Sháh! O great!
O mighty one! O sage, high priest and world-lord!
A humble woman and her gardener-spouse
Have been thy poor hosts in this house. Withal
They did not do their best. We ne'er suspected
That 'twas the Sháh, that such an one as he
Would come to this place as a guest, would come
To this poor home of ours.”

Bahrám replied:—

“Good friend! I give to thee this march, the land,
And village. Be thou ever hospitable;
Be that, and give up garden-work.”

He spake,

And laughing left the house, gat on his steed

The third day after this the Sháh went forth
With escort, the equipment for the chase,
Ten camels all in housings of brocade
With stirrups silver and with dossers gold,
Ten camels with the Sháh's pavilion,
And his brocaded seat. In front of these
Were seven elephants which bare the throne
Of turquoise hued like Nile; its feet were all
Of gold and crystal; 'twas the throne itself
Of Sháh Bahrám Gúr. Every swordsman there
Had thirty pages who had golden belts
And bridles, while a hundred camels served
To bear the minstrels wearing massive crowns.
The falconers had eight score hawks with them,
And ten score noble peregrines and falcons.
Among them there was one bird black of hue,
More precious in the Sháh's eyes than the rest,
With sable talons and with yellow beak,
Like gold a-gleam on lapis-lazuli.
They called it a tughral. Its eyes were like
Two goblets full of blood. The Khán of Chín
Had sent it with a throne and crown, with amber,
A golden torque inlaid with emeralds,
With two score armlets, and with thrice twelve earrings,
Three hundred camel-loads of rarities
Of Chín, and fifteen score of ruby signets.
Behind the falconers they led eight score
Of cheetahs for that Lustre of the world—
The Sháh—with jewelled torques and chains of gold.
Thus came the king of kings upon the plain,
And raised his crown o'er Jupiter. The sportsmen
Made for the river whither used the Sháh
Auspiciously to fare each seventh year.
As they drew near they found the river full
Of water-fowl. He had the tabor beaten,
And the tughral flew off. The imperious bird
Was all impatience; in its claws a crane
Was helpless quarry, and a pard had been

approached the Sháh, and kissed the
ground,
Then said: “O monarch of the sun-like face!
May heaven revolve according to thy will.
I do not dare to say to thee: ‘Abide
With thy two hundred horsemen on my march.’
Still, if the Sháh take pleasure in my garden,
The glory of Barzín hath reached the moon.”
“To-day,” the world's king answered, “the tughral
Escaped us. I am vexed about that fowler,
Which hunted birds as leopards hunt their quarry.”
Barzín replied: “I saw a sable bird
Just now with golden bells and pitch-hued body,
Its beak and talons turmeric in hue;
It came and settled on yon walnut-tree:
By thy good fortune it is come to hand.”
The Sháh said to a servant: “Go and look.”
He went like wind and cried: “Glad ever be
The world-lord! The tughral is on a bough;
E'en now the falconer is taking it.”
The hawk thus found, the old man said: “O Sháh
Without a mate or equal on the earth!
Oh! may thine entertainer prove auspicious,
And all the wearers of a crown thy slaves.

The Idols

Took heart to sing and play. The songstress sang:—

“O moon-faced king! the moon in heaven
Alone is like to thee,
The royal throne thine only seat.
Thou with thy moon-like blee,

And teak-like stature art the pride
Of throne and crown. Oh! rare
For those that see thy face at morn,
For those that scent thy hair!

Thy loins are tiger-like, thy limbs
Are mighty, thy crown's Grace
Is as the cloud-rack high, and like
Pomegranate-bloom thy face.

For rapture of thy love hearts laugh,
Like ocean is thine own;
Like cloud thy hand. As thy fit prey
I see the lion alone.

C. 1520 Thou splittest with thy shaft a hair,
And by thine equity
Convertest water into milk.
When hostile armies see

Thy lasso and thy puissant arm
Their hearts and brains are rent
However mighty their array,
Howe'er on battle bent.”

Bahrám Gúr, having heard the ditty, drained
The massive crystal cup and thus addressed
Barzín: “O noble sir, experienced much
Is this world's heat and cold! thou wilt not find
A better son-in-law than me who am
'Mid kings a hero and the king of men.
Bestow thy daughters on me—all the three—
And I will raise thy coronet to Saturn.”
“O king!” Barzín replied, “may wine and bearer
Find favour in thy sight. Who will dare say
That he hath such a Venus in his house?
If now thou wilt accept me as a slave
To serve before the throne of king of kings
Then will I pay my service to thy crown,
Thy throne, thy Grace, thy fortune, and thy state;
Moreover my three daughters are thy handmaids
To stand before thee as thy slaves. The Sháh
Approved of them as such or ever he
Saw these three Moons afar. As teaks are they
In stature and as ivory in hue,
Fit for the throne and to adorn the crown.
Now will I tell the monarch of the world
What fortune I possess for good and ill:
Of clothes and carpets, stuffs and draperies,
Good sooth have I stored up in mine abode
Two hundred camel-loads or more as well
As necklaces and bracelets, crowns and thrones,
All for my daughters' pleasure.”

Hearing this

Bahrám replied: “Leave what thou hast in store,
Where now it is, and seek mirth with the wine-cup.”
The elder answered: “My three moon-like daughters
I give thee by the rites of Gaiúmart
And of Húshang. Dust are they 'neath thy feet,
And all the three live but to do thy will.”
The eldest daughter's name was Máh Áfríd,
The second's Farának, and the cadette's
Was Shambalíd. Approving them at sight
The Sháh preferred them 'mongst his lawful wives,
And bade a noble of his escort bring
Four golden litters,⁵³

and, when all three Idols
Were set therein, they were encircled there
By forty Rúman slaves—their devotees—
Who called down praises on them as they went.

The Sháh, on urging thence his steed Shabrang,
Came on a forest and beheld before it
Two savage lions, strung and drew his bow.
The arrow, striking on the lion's breast,
Was buried to the plumes. Forthwith Bahrám
Turned to the lioness and, shooting, pinned
Her breast and loins together, but exclaimed:—

The escort praised him, saying:—

O famous king of earth! none ever saw,
Or will see, on the throne of king of kings
A Sháh like thee, who with unfeathered arrows
O'erthrowest lions, and with plumed uprootest
A mount of flint.”

The monarch with his meiny

Rode on along the meadow-land and saw
A forest full of sheep, their herds in flight
For fear of harm. The chief herd, ne'er at ease
For terror of wild beasts, perceived Bahrám,
Who said to him: “What man is driving sheep
To this unlikely spot?”

The head man answered:—

“Great sir! none cometh to this pasturage
Except myself. They are a jeweller's:
I drove them from the mountains yesterday.
The owner is a wealthy man not troubled
By fear of loss.⁵⁵

He owneth gems by ass-loads,
Gold, silver, trinketry. He hath withal
One only daughter, skilful on the harp.
Her tresses cluster on her head in curls.
He will take wine from her hand only. None
Hath seen an old man like him. How could he
Have kept his property but by the justice
Of Sháh Bahrám? The great king of the world
Is not concerned for gold, and his archmages
Are not unjust; but say who slew these beasts,
For may the Ruler of the world uphold him?”
Bahrám replied: “This pair of lions fell
Beneath the arrows of a valiant man,
Who, having slain these gallant beasts, departed
With seven other gallant cavaliers.
Where is the jeweller's mansion? Point the way,
And hide it not from us.”

The chief hind said:—

“Proceed and thou wilt reach a brand-new seat.
The jeweller thence fareth to the city,
To Sháh Bahrám's own palace, but, what time
The sun doth don its Sable Silk, returneth
To banquet. Revelling and sound of lyre
Will reach thine ears if thou wilt bide a while.”
Bahrám, on hearing this, called for his steed,
And for apparel suited to a king,
Then parted from his minister and escort.
Good sooth! but he was full of eagerness!
Rúzbih said to the chiefs: “So now the Sháh
Is going to the village, there to knock
Upon the portal of the jeweller!

He never hath enough of chambering;
His consort flitteth ere the night is over!
He hath above a hundred ladies' bowers!
'Tis ill to have a king of kings like this.
Just now a eunuch reckoned up nine hundred
And thirty damsels wearing jewelled crowns
Within the palace, all provided for!
The Sháh demandeth tribute from all lands,
And Rúm will be exhausted in a year.
Alack! for shoulders, breast, and height like his,
And face that brightened all the company!
None will behold his like in strength and stature,
Who pinneth with one shaft two onagers;
But dalliance with women marreth him,
He soon will be as feeble as a ghost!
His eyes will darken and his looks grow wan,
His body slacken and his cheeks turn blue.
To sniff at women maketh hoary heads,
And hoary heads have naught to hope on earth.
As polo-playing maketh stoop the upright,
So womanizing causeth every ill.
Once in a month is intercourse enough,
While more is waste of blood. A wise youth too
Should husband vigour for his children's sake.
In this excess there is excess of loss,
And slackness is afflictive to a man.”
They went back to the palace, talking still,
And one remarked: “The Sun hath lost his way.”
Bahrám Gúr, with one slave to mind his horse,
Fared through the gloom of night and, when he neared
The jeweller's abode, heard sounds of harping,
Whereto he urged Gulgún, his steed, forthwith
Toward the merchant's house. He knocked and asked
Admittance, all the while invoking Him
Who made the sun. A kindly handmaid said:—
“Who's there? Why knock thus at this time of
night?”
Bahrám replied: “This morning as the Sháh
Was coming from the hunting-ground my horse
Went lame, and I perforce got left behind.
Here in this thoroughfare the folk will steal
A steed like this and my gold harness too,
So I need help.”

The handmaid went and told

Her lord: “A man requesteth shelter, saying:
‘My steed with its gold harness will be stolen,
And I shall go away undone.’”

He answered:—

“Then ope the door. Hast never seen a guest
Come here before?”

And said: “Come in, my son!”

The Sháh on entering,

And seeing such a place and such attendance,
Said to himself: “O just and only God!
Thou art Thy servant's Guide to what is good.
Ne'er may I be but just in conduct, never
Be covetise and arrogance my creed,
Let every act and deed of mine be just,
And let my subjects' hearts rejoice in me:
Then, if my knowledge and my justice wax,
My memory will shine when I am dead.
May all my subjects, like this jeweller,
Enjoy the sound of harp and revelry.”
On entering the lofty hall he saw
The jeweller's famed daughter from the door.
The thane, on seeing him, arose and came
With bows profound, and said: “Good ev'n to thee.
May all thy foemen's hearts be rooted out.”
The host spread out a mat and laid thereon
A cushion, gazing at his guest with joy.
One brought a sumptuous board with viands hot
And cold thereon. One came—a faithful liege—
And was instructed to secure the steed.
Elsewhere they lodged and fed Bahrám Gúr's servant.
They set a low seat for the host himself,
Who took his place close to his guest the Sháh,
And then began to offer his excuse,
Thus saying to Bahrám: “Brave paladin!
Since thou art entertained within my house
Conform thyself to my rough usages.
When we have eaten we must drink and then
Rest sweetly. 'Tis dark night, the wine is royal;
When thou hast drunk thy quantum thou shalt sleep,
And, when thou wakest at the break of day,
Must haste back to the service of the Sháh.”
Bahrám replied: “Night dark when one alighteth
On cheery host like thee! We must not prove
Ingrate to God; the hearts of thankless men
Are full of fear.”

The handmaid, who was all

Astonied at the aspect of the guest,
Brought water, bowl, and napkin. Hands were washed.
Then came the wine-cup's turn, and with the wine
Came mirth, contentment, and tranquillity.
The handmaid brought a flagon and strong drink,
Red wine, a cup, and flowers of fenugreek.
The thane first reached out for the cup and drank,
Then washed it out with musk and with rose-water,
And gave the cup that cheereth to Bahrám.
“What,” said he, “is my boon-companion's name?
Now will I make a covenant with thee,
And I will take Bahrám, the Sháh, as surety.”

“Thou art as a cypress
That lippeth a stream,
And white locks encircle
Thy cheeks' rosy gleam.

Thy tongue is warm-spoken,
Thy heart loveth peace,
Oh! ne'er may thy foemen
Of ill have surcease.

Thy soul's food be wisdom.
Thy bent is as great
As Farídún's. On thee
As handmaid I wait.

Árzú am I titled,
I joy in our guest,
Like monarch whose troops are
With victory blest.”

This ditty done, toward the guest she turned,
Turned toward him with a song and plaintive chords:—

“Sincere and brave, high-starred and king-like one!
They that ne'er saw Bahrám, the cavalier,
The well approved, to every bosom dear,
Should look upon thy face, and all is done.

His only semblance in the host thou art,
Tall as a cypress with a reed-like waist,
A cypress with a pheasant's carriage graced,
An elephant in bulk with lion's heart.

Two miles in fight thou flingest forth thy spear,
Thy cheeks as though pomegranate-blossoms shine
(Who was it washed, say'st thou, those blooms in
wine?)

And as a camel's thighs thine arms appear.

Thou tramplest Mount Bístún. Heaven toiled to

C. 1526

mould
A man like thee. None see I to compete
In strife with thee. As dust beneath thy feet
Oh! may Árzú's form be while life shall hold.”

The girl's proficiency with song and harp,
Her looks, her stature, and accomplishments,
So wrought the world-lord that thou wouldst have
said:—
“His heart hath grown a magazine of woes,”
And at the time when Máhiyár grew drunk
Before him he addressed his host, thus saying:—
“Give me thy daughter as my lawful wife
If thou wouldst be commended for just dealing.”
“Wilt thou accept,” said Máhiyár to her,
“The presents of this lion-hearted man?
See if he pleaseth thee, and if 'tis well
For thee to go with him.”

Árzú replied:—

“Good, noble father!⁶²

if thou wouldst bestow me
On any then my partner is Gushasp,
The cavalier. One that doth look upon
A man like this will bid Bahrám ‘Avaunt!’”
His daughter's words misliked him and he said
Thus to Bahrám: “O horseman of the fray!
Regard her carefully from head to foot,
Her industry, her knowledge, and discretion;
See if she be approved of thee at heart;
Report of her is better than assumption.
She is at once accomplished and no beggar;
I do not specify exact amounts,
But shouldst thou count the gems of Máhiyár
They would exceed those in the royal coffers.
Be not precipitate, take rest to-night,
And, if needs must, another cup of wine,
For great men make no compacts in their cups
Especially about their lady-loves.
Wait therefore till the sun shall rise on high,
And till the nobles' heads have roused from
sleep,
Then will we call far-seeing elders in—
Disinterested men and scholarly.
At night 'tis out of order and ignoreth
The precedents of Farídún, the Sháh.
Ill-omened 'tis to marry in one's cups
Or handsel any business.”

Said Bahrám:—

“Absurd! 'Tis ill to draw, or go by, omens.
This harpist pleaseth me to-night, so strive
To deem the matter an auspicious one.”
The sire said to his daughter: “O Árzú!
Dost thou approve him as to looks and manners?”
She said: “Yea, I approved of him when I
Far off beheld him with such head and eyes.
Complete the work and leave the rest to God:
The sky is not at feud with Máhiyár.”
Her father answered: “Thou art now his wife.
Know this that thou art under coverture.”

Take too a bowl of camphor and rose-water
To scent his chamber. As for me, my cups
Have left me just as I was yesterday;
Old jewellers shirk not their wine.”

He spake,

And, drawing up his cloak about his head,
Wooed rest and sleep.

When bright Sol showed its crown,

And earth became like shining ivory,
Troops armed with shields and double-headed darts
Went to seek traces of the royal whip.
The escort gathered round the door as though
The Sháh's own court, and all that recognised
The whip came forward and saluted it.
The porter, seeing that great gathering,
The throng of swordsmen and of javelin-men,
Went, roused his sleeping lord, and sobered him,
Thus saying to him: “Rise, bestir thyself;
This is no time to sleep or place to sit,
Because the world's king is thy guest within
This sorry house of thine!”

The jeweller's heart

Throbbed wildly at the words. He cried: “What
say'st thou?
How tracest thou the footsteps of the king?”
Then fully realising what was said
He sprang up from the bed-clothes with a shout,
Enraged against the porter, “These,” he cried,
“Are not the words of wisdom and of age.”
“Experienced man!” the slave said, “who on earth
Made thee the monarch of Írán? So vast
A host is at thy gate that, wouldst thou pass,
There is scant room, and every Jack of them,
On coming up, saluteth our old curtain!⁶⁴

At dawn, before the sun began to shine,
The cavalier's attendant came and hung
A whip all gold and jewels o'er our entry,
Where we pass through it, and round that long whip

Hearing this,

The shrewd old man was troubled: “Why did I
Get drunk last night before the king of kings,
And let my daughter share the wine with us?”
Then going to the chamber of Árzú
He said: “My gracious Moon! it was Bahrám,
The king of kings, that last night visited
The jeweller! On coming from the chase
He hither turned his rein. Now up and don
Brocade of Rúm and set upon thy head
Thy last night's crown. Make him an offering
Of jewels worthy of a king—three rubies
Of royal worth—and, when thou shalt behold
His sun-like face, enfold thine arms before him,
Keep thine eyes fixed on him and think of him
As thine own soul and body. Answer meekly
When he shall question thee, and let thy words
Be modest and discreet. I shall not come
Unless he calleth me and giveth me
A place among his followers. I sat
At table with him like his peer! Oh! would
That I had no bones in me! Furthermore
I cottoned with the Sháh when in my cups!
Wine maketh old and young to misdemean.”
Just then a slave came hurrying and said:—
“The Sháh, that ardent spirit, is awake.”
Now when the Sháh woke safe and sound, he went
To bathe him in the garden, went to pray
Before the sun, confiding all to God.
Returning thence to the reception-room
He bade a server bring a cup of wine,
Heard that his retinue had come, dismissed it,
And called Arzú on whom his heart was set.⁶⁵

Arzú appeared with wine and offerings—
A handmaid with her necklace and her earrings—
And with a lowly reverence kissed the ground.
The Sháh smiled on her greatly pleased and said:—
“Whence such behaviour—first to make me drunk,
Then run away? Thy song and harp suffice
For me, a woman's presents are for others.
Come sing to me thy ditties of the chase,
Of spearhead-blows, and royal combatings.”
Anon he said: “Where is the jeweller,
For we got drunk together yesternight?”
The daughter, when she heard this, called her father,

He kissed the ground,

Did Máhiyár, then brought and spread the board,
And, good man that he was, he fetched withal
The nobles that were stationed at the gate;
Howbeit Árzú went off to her own bower,
Her visage puckered at those stranger-guests,
And stayed till heaven grew sombre, and the stars
Came out around the moon. The eating done,
Árzú was called and set upon a seat
Of golden work. The Sháh bade her to take
Her harp and sing to him the song that he
Had asked of her already. Thus she sang:—
“O monarch undaunted! the lion in shame
Will slink from the wood at the bruit of thy name.
Sháh, victor, host-breaker art thou. In thy mien
The tints of the tulip on jasmine are seen.
In stature no ruler on earth is thy peer,
In looks thou transcendest the moon in her sphere.
A host on the war-stead, beholding in fight
Thy helmet, will rive, heart and brain, with affright,
And longer discern not the depth from the height.”
When they were blithe with wine and, eating done,
Were quaffing draught on draught, Rúzbih appeared
Before the Sháh. They lodged him in the village.
Rúzbih had brought a litter and withal
Two score of eunuchs, all moon-face and charming.
Those Rúmans' faces seemed brocade of Rúm,
And freshened all the country round. Árzú,
A crown of jewels set upon her head,
Toward the bower of Sháh Bahrám Gúr sped.

When a month had passed Bahrám

Grew eager for his wives' society,
And led his people from the hunting-ground.
Folk could not see the way, the cavaliers
Raised such a dust! but swift as dust they sped
Till day's cheeks turned to lapis-lazuli.
The Sháh observed a town in front of him
With groups of houses, roadways, and bázárs,
And ordered that his escort with the baggage
Should push on, leaving not a soul behind.
He asked: “Where is the chief man of the place?”
And then made thither straightway. He beheld
A shattered entry broad and deep. The owner
Came and saluted him. The Sháh inquired:—
“Whose ruin is this and wherefore in such plight
Amidst the town?”

The master said: “'Tis mine,

And ill luck is my guide. I have not here
Kine, raiment, victuals, manhood, understanding,
No feet, no wings. Me thou hast seen, now view
My house—one fitter for a curse than blessing.”
The aspiring Sháh alighted, scanned the house,
And hands and feet both failed him, for the place
Was all sheep's droppings though both great and
vaulted!

The other answered:—

“Why mock thy host so wantonly, O marchlord!
Had I some draperies my guest would praise me,
But I have none, no clothing, food, or carpets.
Pray lodge thee somewhere else; here all is poor.”
The Sháh said: “Fetch a cushion then that I
May sit awhile.”

“The place is ill,” he answered.

“Good sooth! wouldst thou have bird's milk?”

Said Bahrám:—

“Bring fresh milk and new bread if thou canst get it.”
“Imagine,” said the other, “that thou hast
Partaken and gone off with ‘Fare thee well.’
I should not be so lifeless had I bread,
Though life were better far than bread to me.”
Bahrám said: “If thou hast no sheep how come
These droppings here?”

“'Tis night,” the other answered.

“My head is all a muddle with thy talk.
Select some mansion with a curtained entrance;
The master of it will commend thy choice.
Why shouldst thou be with an unfortunate,
Who maketh leaves his pillow for the night?
Thou hast a golden sword and stirrups, thou
Shouldst sojourn not where there is fear of thieves,
For thieves and lions haunt old hulks like this.”
The Sháh said: “If a thief should rob me now
Thou wouldst not be responsible, but give me
A lodging for the night, 'tis all I need.”
“Then need it not,” the owner made reply;
“None lodgeth in my house.”

“O wise old man!

Why art thou,” said the Sháh, “so short with me?
Still thou wilt give me, I presume, cold water,
O noble one!”

“Didst thou not see,” rejoined

The householder, “more than two bow-shots long⁶⁹

The pool? There drink and take whate'er thou wilt.
Why seek for aught in this impoverished house?
Good sooth! hast never seen a poor man barred
From working by decrepitude?”

Bahrám

Rejoined: “Thou art not one of the first water,
Chief though thou be; so strive not with a soldier.
What is thy name?”

He answered: “Farshídward,

A man without land, raiment, sleep, and food.”
Bahrám asked: “Why endeavour not for provand
And comfort?”

Said the master of the house:—

“He that bestoweth all may end my days.

Bahrám, on quitting that famed township, came
Upon a bramble-brake. A man, who held
A mattock in his hand, was grubbing there.
The monarch left his retinue, drew near him,
And said: “O enemy of brambles! whom
Know'st thou of most account in yonder town?”
He answered: “Farshídward—a man of greed
That doth not suffer him to sleep or eat.
He hath, may be, a hundred thousand sheep,
More camels, steeds, and asses. Earth is full
Of his amassed dínárs, but would that he
Had neither skin nor marrow to his body!
A famished paunch and nakedness are his;
He hath no child, no kin, no friends, no goods.
A captive in the hands of Greed and Need
His person is all misery and wasted
Through eating not, but if he were to sell
For gold his tilth 'twould purchase gems enough
To fill a house! His shepherds swill down flesh
With milk, but he himself hath millet-bread
Without e'en cheese! He never saw two coats
At once; he is a tyrant to himself.”
The Sháh said to the grubber: “Thou dost know
The number of his sheep, but knowest thou
Where those flocks are and likewise where his steeds
And camels are at large?”

The grubber said:—

“O thou! it is not far from here to where
His camels and his sheep are, but my heart
Is troubled at the ill that he may do me.”
Bahrám Gúr gave the grubber some dínárs,
And said: “This day shall gentle thy condition.”
He bade one of his escort come to him,
A man that knew his way about, by name
Bihrúz, a horseman brave and popular,
And sent with him a hundred cavaliers,
Selected men well suited to the work.
He chose withal a scribe, an honest man

The grubber's name was Diláfrúz,

A man of stately mien and stalwart form.
Bahrám bestowed on him a noble steed,
And said: “Thou must companion with the wind.”
He was the Light of hearts but he became
The Lustre of the world⁷²

and carried out
His task triumphantly. He led the troop
O'er hill and plain past countless flocks of sheep.
Upon the mountains were ten caravans
Of camels, each with its own caravaneer.
The scribe wrote down of draught and of milch cattle
Twelve thousand, and the number of the camels
And steeds as twice ten thousand. All the waste
Was dinted with their hoofs. Beside the stream
There were three hundred thousand camel-loads
Of potted butter and curds fresh and dried.^72a

Height, waste, and level were one mighty cache,
But none had heard thereof. Bihrúz, the son
Of Húr, reported to the king of kings,
Bahrám Gúr, praising first almighty God,
The All-victorious and All-nourisher,
And next the king of kings who had released
Men's hands from toil, and then proceeded thus:—
“O monarch of the world! thou art the joy
Of all folk great and small because thy justice
Surpasseth bounds. Our treasury hath suffered
Through silence as to this man's wealth. 'Tis well
That all things in the world should have their
bounds,
Well that the Sháh be boundlessly rejoiced.
A wretch there is named Farshídward, unknown
In feast and fight to great and small alike
Throughout the world, not fearing God or Sháh,
And thankless in respect of what he hath.
While thus he streweth o'er the world his wealth
He is a lack-all, wretched, secretive,
Who is as unjust as the Sháh is just.
Blame not my words and counsel. Let this wealth
Inaugurate a treasury; '??will need
Three years to order it. I have invoked
To mine assistance certain other scribes,
And settled them upon this fertile mount,
But, though the writers' backs are bent, not yet
Is manifest the sum of this man's treasure;
Moreover he possesseth, so folk say,
Still greater buried hoards of gold and jewels.
Here in the mountain am I with both eyes
Upon the road to know the Sháh's commands.

He sent a cameleer post haste to bear
The letter to the Sháh. Whenas Bahrám Gúr
Had read it he was troubled in his heart,
Grew downcast, wept, and bent his warrior-brows.
He called for Rúman pens and silk of Chín,
And bade a scribe approach. He first gave thanks
To God almighty, the omniscient Guide,
“The Lord of knowledge and of Grace, the Lord
Of diadem and kingship,” then wrote thus:—
“I should by rights attach this man. He hath not
Amassed these hoards by thievery and bloodshed,
Hath not incited others to do wrong,
But he hath been ungrateful and not had
The fear of God within him, hath kept ward
O'er all this treasure to the detriment,
By such amassing, both of heart and soul.
Wolf is as good as sheep upon yon plain
Since neither yieldeth profit or return.
A buried gem is nothing but a stone,
Affording no one either food or raiment.
We shall not found a treasury on his toils,
Or fix our heart upon this Wayside Inn.
Evanished from the world are Farídún,
Íraj withal, Túr, and, amidst the mighty,
Sám, Sháh Káús, and Kai Kubád, besides
The other potentates whose names we cherish,
And mine own sire who filled my heart with pain
As being neither just nor generous.
None of these great men is in evidence;
Herein there is no striving with the Lord.
Collect this treasure and distribute it,
But touch not thou one hair. To every one
That hideth his necessities and looketh
Long vainly for remission from his ills;
To old men past their work and despicable
In rich men's eyes; to those that have spent all,
And now in trouble breathe forth chilling sighs;
To those that have renown but not dínárs;
To traders reft of friends; to little ones
Whom thou beholdest orphans, their sires dead,
And they themselves in want of gold and silver;
To women that have neither spouse nor raiment,
That know no handicraft and no employment,
Give all these treasures and irradiate
The lives of those poor souls. This done, neglect not
The hidden treasures, but bestow the hoards
Of Farshídward upon the mendicants

Bahrám bade slaves set up the imperial throne
Within the pleasance, then in spring-tide beauty.
They brought the turquoise throne at his command,
And set it 'neath a blossom-shedding tree,
They brought forth wine and cups, and minstrels went
Toward the pleasance with the chiefs. The king
Said to his counsellors: “This is the time
Of jollity for men. We all must couch;
Death treadeth under foot the rolls of fame,
The hall and palace. We shall have enough
Of our own company within the charnel,
Men both of mien and stature though we be.
The king and beggar carry when they die
Naught but their good and ill away with them.
What toil soe'er men bear is only loss,
For, when they perish, that will perish too.
That praise of us remaineth is enough,
For crown and girdle are another's share.
Thou needest innocence and uprightness
That thine enjoyments prove not scath to thee.
My years exceed already eight and thirty,
And many a day hath fleeted in delight,
But, after two score years, grief for the day
Of death is instant with us. If one hair
Turn white upon our heads we must forgo
All hope of joy; when musk becometh camphor
'Tis ruined; camphor suiteth not the crown.
Two years more will I spend in feast and sport,
Then, when my strength is somewhat broken, go
Before God's presence, don the woollen robe,
And be not thankless for His mercies to me,
For I have passed my days in joy and had
My share of royal crown. Now for the rose,
The apple, the pomegranate, and the quince!
Let not the golden goblet fail of wine!⁷⁵

But when I see the apples amber-cheeked,
The heavens dappled like a leopard's back,
The fragrant camomile producing seed,
And wine as ruddy as the reveller,
When air is pleasant, neither hot nor cold,
Earth fresh and water blue, what time we don
Our autumn furs, I must to Jaz to hunt,

For that far faring since it is the spot
For onager and archery, and there
No moment will we rest from chevying.
The plain that I have set mine eyes upon
Is lower Jaz. There tamarisks are tall
As spear-shafts, there too we shall find the lion,
And have a hunting if we bide our time.”
He waited till the clouds of Shahrívar
Arose, then all the world was filled with troops.
From every clime an army keen for strife
Set face toward the monarch of Írán,
Who chose among them chiefs of note as hunters,
And carried with him to the chase a force
Of thirty thousand mounted Scimitars.
They took with them pavilions, tent-enclosures,
Tents, beasts, and shielings, while the underlings
Went on before Bahrám Gúr to dig wells,
To furnish them withal with wheel and bucket,
And run the water into troughs. The Sháh
Came later with his meiny to the chase.
He saw the plain well stocked with onager,
The woods alive with lions, and thus said:—
“Wine is our quarry to-night, for on the sand
Are many lion-tracks, and we must have
A lion-hunt to-morrow. Rest ye then
In health of body and in merry pin,
And let us drink till daybreak, till the sun—
The lustre of the world—is bright again.
Our scimitars shall fell the lions first,
Shall fell those valiant dragons. When the woods
Are cleared of lions then the onager
Shall yield himself a servant to my shafts.”
He stayed that night and, when the morning dawned,
Approached the forest with his men, whereat
A lion, lusty-grown with battening
On onagers, rushed forth, and brave Bahrám
Said to his friends: “Though I have bow and arrows,
And mastery therewith, I will assail
Yon lion with the scimitar that none
May call me coward.”

Donning a shrunk vest

Of wool he mounted on his battle-steed.
Now when that dragon of a lion saw him
It reared, brought down its claws, and sought to strike
The charger on the head.⁷⁷

The warrior heeled
His steed and with his trenchant scimitar,
What while the lioness made off apace,

Now thou art Sháh, the world is thine, so why
Fight with them still? Thou cam'st for onager.”
“Old sage,” the Sháh said, “let to-morrow dawn,
And heigh for onager and shaft and me!
But cavaliers and nobles now alive
Can rival me in archery, so when
We give its due to manhood we must take
Account of iron mace and scimitar.”
The archmage said: “Hadst thou ten horsemen
with thee,
And like thee in the fight, then Rúm and Chín
Would have no crown and throne, and men of wisdom
Would ship their goods off. Be the evil eye
Far from thy Grace, and be it thine to feast
Among the roses.”

Then with archimages,

And captains of the host, the Sháh departed
Toward his tent-enclosure from the wood
What while the troops acclaimed him, saying thus:—
“Ne'er may the crown and signet-ring lack thee.”
That paladin then entered his pavilion,
His escort quitting him, and washed his hands
Of sweat. He had with him a trusty steward,
Who draped a fresh tent for him. There they set
Musk, camphor, and rose water, and spread musk
Withal upon the sleeping-place. Each tent
Had golden tables laid with services
Of ware of Chín where lamb and other meats
Were served by the chief server. Sháh Bahrám Gúr,
The eating done, called for a mighty cup
Of crystal, which a fairy-faced cup-bearer
Brought and consigned it to the just king's hands,
Who said: “Ardshír, the great king, he whose fortune
Made old folk young, was founder of our house,
And we are underlings if we be worthy
E'en of that title. Both in fight and feast,
At counsel and at board, give none but him

Farídún they praise,
And he is cursed by stirrers up of strife.
Throughout the world may only good proceed
From me to small and great. Bring me a herald,”
He added, “one of goodly voice and leading,
Let him go round the host and thus proclaim
O'er way and waste alike: ‘Whoe'er shall lay
Within the region of Barkúh and Jaz^79a

Unlawful hands on aught, from jewels, gold,
Dínárs, and furs to mean and worthless chaff,
Him will I horse face tail-wards and will have
Two of the soldiery to lead him hence.
His feet shall be made fast beneath his steed,
And to the temple of Ázargashasp
Will I dispatch him there to supplicate
All-holy God and worship in the dust
Before the Fire. I will bestow his goods
On those whom he hath robbed and wronged withal.
If any horse shall injure growing crops,
Or harm fruit-bearing trees, the horse's owner,
Be he a noble or of no account,
Shall not escape a year's imprisonment.
My work is but to carry from the desert
My portion, then go home again rejoicing.’”
The more part of the traffickers of Jaz,
And of Barkúh, went out upon the plain,
And with their various packs produced a scene
About the host like a bázár in Chín.