Gushtásp dismounted when he reached the shore,
And there Híshwí—a man advanced in years,
Frank, vigilant, respected, prosperous,
Who was employed as toll-collector—saw him.
Gushtásp saluting said: “May thy pure soul
Be wisdom's mate! A rising scribe am I,
Come from Írán, discreet, of ardent spirit,

And heedful. It will be a lasting favour
To ferry me across.”

Híshwí replied:—

“Crown, mail, and plunder are the things for thee;
Tell me the truth and try not thus to cross;
Give me a present or declare thyself;
Where are the mien and manners of a scribe?”
Gushtásp said: “I have nothing to conceal;
Moreover I will give thee what thou wilt—
This coronet, sword, charger, or dínárs.”
The man accepted some dínárs with joy,
Set sail, and took across the atheling.
There was a city in the land of Rúm
Above three leagues in breadth. Salm was the founder
Of that great seat where dwelt the valiant Cæsars.
Gushtásp, as soon as he arrived thereat,
Sought out a lodging in that busy place,
And walked about the district for a week
Among the people there to seek employment
Till, having eaten or bestowed his all,
He went in dudgeon, sighing heavily.
He tramped the city for a while, passed through
A hall, and entering a public office,
Addressed the chief clerk thus: “O friend in need!
A scribe of some pretensions from Írán
Am I, and can perform the office-work
To thy content.”

The scribes in that department

Looked one upon another saying thus:—
“A pen of steel would weep, a sheet of paper
Scorch, at a man like this! A lofty charger
Is what he needeth under him, with bow
Upon his arm and lasso at his saddle.”
They cried: “We want no scribe here. Go thy

ways.”
Gushtásp departed thence heart-sorrowful
With pallid cheeks and, heaving deep, cold sighs,
Sought Cæsar's master of the herds, a man
Brave, wise, and generous, by name Nastár.
Gushtásp saluted him, was well received
And seated by the master, who inquired:—
“Who art thou that in mien and countenance
Art like a king?”

Gushtásp said: “Noble sir!

A horseman am I and a bold rough-rider.
If thou wilt take me I will prove of use,
And stand beside thee too in stress and trouble.”
Nastár said: “Go thy way. Thou art a stranger,
And hast no standing. Here are desert, sea,
And steeds at large! How then can I entrust
The herds to one unknown?”

On hearing this

Gushtásp went off in dudgeon. Thou hadst said:—
“His skin hath burst upon him!” He exclaimed:—
“A man will fare the worse for his desire
To be a source of trouble to his father.”
He went in haste to Cæsar's cameleers,
Saluted him that was the chief and said:—
“Be thine an ardent and discerning mind!”
That wise man, when he saw Gushtásp, advanced
To meet him, offered him a place, and spread
A carpet, bringing out what food he had.
Gushtásp said: “Prosperous, bright-hearted friend!
Entrust to me one of thy caravans,
Assigning me such wages as thou wilt.”

“O lion-man!” replied the camel-keeper,
“This occupation is not fit for thee;
Shouldst thou engage in such a work as mine?
'Tis better to apply to Cæsar's court,
He will enfranchise thee from such a business,
And if the way is longsome I have camels,
Such as thou wilt approve, and men as guides.”
Gushtásp gave thanks to him and turned away.
Full of distress he started for the city,
His sufferings lying heavy on his heart,
And turned his steps toward the smiths' bázár.
There was a noted smith by name Búráb,
Skilled in the trade, the farrier to the court,
Of influence with Cæsar; he employed
Some thirty-five apprentices and workmen
Accustomed to the hammer and the iron.
Gushtásp sat in the shop until the master
Grew weary of him, and exclaimed: “Good fellow!
What wouldst thou in my shop?”

Gushtásp replied:—

“O prosperous man! I am not one to turn
My head away from hammers and hard work.
If thou wilt make me one of thine assistants
I will excel them all at smithery.”
Búráb, when he had heard Gushtásp thus speak,
Received him in apprenticeship, and heating
A mighty mass of metal in the fire
Made haste to place it glowing on the anvil.
They gave a heavy hammer to Gushtásp,
And all the smiths flocked round, but when he smote
He smashed the iron and the anvil also,
And made himself the talk of the bázár.
Búráb, alarmed, exclaimed: “Young man! no anvil,
Stone, fire, or bellows will withstand thy blows!”
Gushtásp, on hearing this, flung down the hammer
In dudgeon, left the smith and went off hungry,
Without a glimpse of food or where to lodge;
But neither do the days of toil and stress,
Nor those of ease and wealth and happiness,

Abide with any. Good and evil here
Are transient, and the sage is of good cheer.