Gushtásp was sorrowful and railed at heaven
Because in this world he had nought but bane.
Hard by the city he beheld a hamlet,
Trees, flowers, and streams—a gladsome spot for
youth.
Beside the water was a mighty tree,
Its shade impervious to the sun's bright rays,
And in that shade the young man sat him down,
And fretted in his trouble and depression.
He spake on this wise: “O almighty Judge!
Grief is the lot assigned to me by fortune.
My star, I see, is evil, but I know not
Why 'tis that evil cometh on my head.”
A nobleman of that fair hamlet passed,
Beheld the outcast weeping tears of blood,
His chin supported by his hand, and said:—
“O noble youth! why art thou sorrowful
And dark of soul? If thou wilt visit me
Thou for a while shalt be my gladsome guest;
These sorrows may be lessened to thy heart,
And dried the arrowy lashes of thine eyes.”
Gushtásp replied: “My lord! first let me know
Thy lineage.”

The householder made answer:—

“What is the purpose of thy questioning?
Descended am I from Sháh Farídún,
The warrior—no paltry ancestor.”
Gushtásp, on hearing this, arose and went
With him. The chief reached home and had his
hall
Decked to receive his guest, he held Gushtásp
As though he were a brother, and the time
Passed leaving not a wish unsatisfied.
A while elapsed with matters in this stay
Until month after month had passed away.