When jocund New Year's Day arrived Gív yearned
For consultation with that glorious cup,
And came, bent double on his son's account
But hopeful, to Khusrau who, seeing him
With shrunken cheeks and sorely stricken heart,
Went and arrayed himself in Rúman garb
To seek God's presence. Then before the Maker
He cried and ofttimes blessed the Shining One,*

Imploring of the Succourer succour, strength,
And justice on pernicious Ahriman,

And, thence returning to his throne, assumed
The Kaian crown, took up the cup, and gazed.
He saw the seven climes reflected there,
And every act and presage of high heaven,
Their fashion, cast, and scope, made manifest.
From Aries to Pisces he beheld
All mirrored in it—Saturn, Jupiter,
Mars, Leo, Sol and Luna, Mercury,
And Venus. In that cup the wizard-king
Was wont to see futurity. He scanned
The seven climes for traces of Bízhan,
And, when he reached the Kargasárs, beheld him
By God's decree fast fettered in the pit,
And praying in his misery for death,
With one, the daughter of a royal race,
Attending him. The Sháh, with smiles that lighted
The daïs, turned his face to Gív and said:—
“Bízhan is yet alive; be of good cheer;
Thou wilt not mind, I wot, his being chained
And prisoned since his life is whole in him,
For he is now a prisoner in Túrán,
Attended by a maid of noble birth.
Yet filled am I with sorrow for his plight,
He hath such travail, hardship, and affliction;
And both of them are weeping like a cloud
When it is springtide, such a life is theirs!
He hath no hope of seeing kith or kin,
But pineth trembling like a willow-bough,
Blood in his eyes and anguish in his heart.
He calleth on his kinsmen and he weepeth
As 'twere a cloud in spring; his life is such
That he desireth death! Who will come forward
To rescue him, who rise with girded loins?
Who is there that will brave the Dragon's breath,
Who from this durance liberate Bízhan?
None save deft Rustam—he who from the deep
Will drag the crocodile. Gird up thy girdle,
Haste to Nímrúz, and rest not night or day.
Bear him my letter and breathe naught hereof.
Him will I summon to me, let him know
The case, and soon, O Gív! abate thy woe.”