Manízha heard and hurried to the city;
Bare-headed, weeping bitterly, she came—
That daughter of Afrásiyáb—to Rustam,
And, wiping from her lashes with her sleeve
The tears of blood, blessed, greeted him, and said:—
“Enjoy'st thou life and wealth? God grant that thou
Mayst ne'er have reason to repent thy toils.
May heaven perform thy will, the evil eye
Not harm thee, and since thou hast heart of hope
May this thy travail not result in loss.
May wisdom ever be thy monitor,
And may Írán be blessed and fortunate.
What know'st thou of the warriors of the Sháh,
Of Gív, Gúdarz, and the Íránian host?
Have tidings of Bízhan not reached Írán?
Will not his supplications aught avail,
That such a youth—a scion of Gúdarz—
May be released from irons? His feet are galled
With fetters and his hands with blacksmiths' rivets!
He hath been dragged in chains, made fast in bonds!
Poor wretch! his clothes are soaked in his own blood!
I get no rest myself for I must beg.
His lamentations fill mine eyes with tears.”

Then Rustam in alarm roared out at her,
And drave her forth. “Be off!” he cried. “I know not
Khusrau or this young chief. I have no tidings
About Gúdarz and Gív, and thou hast chattered
My wits away.”

Manízha looked at Rustam,

Wept bitterly, and showered tears of blood
Upon her bosom in her wretchedness.
She said to him: “O chieftain full of wisdom!
Such heartless words as these become thee not.
Drive me not from thee if thou wilt not talk,
For I am stricken to the heart with anguish.
Is it indeed the custom of Írán
To tell the poor no news?”

He answered thus:—

“What ailed thee, woman, then? Did Áhriman
Give thee a foretaste of the Day of Doom?
Thou didst prevent my trafficking, and therefore
I rated thee; but do not take to heart
My hastiness, my thoughts were on my trade.
Besides I have no home within the land
Of Kai Khusrau, I know naught of Gúdarz
And Gív, and ne'er have travelled in those marches.”
He bade to give the mendicant such food
As was at hand, then questioned her at large:—
“Why is't that fortune is so dark with thee?
Why ask about the Sháh's throne and Írán?
Why look upon the road that leadeth thither?”
She said to him: “Why ask about my case,
My travail, and my trouble? From the mouth
Of yonder pit have I with aching heart
Made haste to thee, O noble man! to ask
The latest news of Gív and of Gúdarz,
The warriors, and thou didst shout at me
As fighters shout! Fear'st not the Judge of all?
The daughter of Afrásiyáb am I—
Manízha. Never had the sun beheld
My form unveiled, but now with eyes all blood,
And heart all pain, with sallow cheeks I roam

From door to door and gather barley bread,
So hath God willed! Can fortune be more
wretched?
Oh! that Almighty God would end it for me,
Because resourceless and in yon deep pit
Bízhan beholdeth neither night nor day,
Nor sun nor moon, but yoked and riveted
In heavy bonds is praying God for death.
Hence are my griefs redoubled, hence these tears.
Thou mayst, if thou art journeying to Írán,
Hear of Gúdarz son of Kishwád, or see
About the court-gate Gív or gallant Rustam;
Then say: ‘Bízhan is in a pit and, save
Thou comest quickly, all is over with him.
If thou wouldst look upon him tarry not,
For iron is below him, stone above.’”
Thus Rustam answered her: “O fair of face!
Why rain these tears of love? Why not invite
Thy nobles' intercession with thy sire?
He may be pitiful, his blood may stir,
His liver burn; but for my fear of him
I would have furnished thee with countless things.”
Then said he to the cooks: “Bring forth for her
Of every kind of victual that she needeth.”
He bade them fetch a bird hot from the spit,
And, as he wrapped it in soft bread,*

slipped in,
As with a fairy's touch, his signet-ring,
And said: “Convey this to yon pit. A guide
Art thou to those who have no help beside.”