Manízha came back to the pit's mouth, running,
The food wrapped in a cloth clasped to her breast,
And gave all to Bízhan. He saw amazed,
Called to the sun-faced damsel from the pit,
And said: “Where didst thou get the food, my love!
That thou hast speeded thus? How much of toil
And hardship hath befallen thee, and all
On mine account, my love and succourer!”
Manízha answered: “From a caravan.
A merchantman—a man possessed of wealth—
Came hither from Írán in search of gain,
With merchandise of all kinds great and small—
A holy man of Grace and understanding,
Who bringeth many jewels of all sorts.
He is a man of might and open heart,
And hath put up a booth before his house;
He gave to me the cloth just as it is:
‘Pray for me to the Maker,’ were his words.
‘Go to the dungeon to the man in bonds,
And take from time to time what he may need.’”
Bízhan with hope amid his fears unrolled
The good bread, in perplexity began
To eat, observed the ring, and read the name,
Then burst out laughing in his joy and wonder.
It was a turquoise ring with “Rustam” graven
Fine as a hair thereon. Bízhan beholding
The fruit upon the tree of faithfulness,
And wotting that the key to loose his sorrow
Had come, laughed out and that right royally,
So that the sound was heard outside the pit.
Manízha marvelled when she heard him laugh
From that dark dungeon fettered as he was,
And said: “The mad will laugh at their own acts!”
She paused in sheer amazement, then she said:—
“O destined to high fortune! why this laughter?
Why laugh, for thou discern'st not night from day?
What is the mystery? Reveal it! Tell me!
Doth better fortune show thee countenance?”
Bízhan replied to her: “I am in hope
That fortune will undo this grievous coil.
Now if with me thou wilt not break thy faith,
And make a covenant with me by oath,
I will reveal the matter every whit,
For ‘though for fear of harm one go about
To sew up women's lips the words will out.’”
Manízha hearing this wept bitterly:—
“What hath malicious fortune brought,” she said,
“Upon me? Woe is me! My day is done,
My heart is stricken, and mine eyes o'erflow!
I gave Bízhan my heart and home and wealth,
And now he treateth me with such distrust!
My father and my kin abandoned me,
I run about unveiled before the folk,
I gave withal my treasures up to spoil,
My crown, dínárs, and jewels, every whit.
I did hope in Bízhan but hope no more.
My world is darkened and mine eyes are dim,
For he concealeth secrets thus from me,
But Thou dost know me better, O my God!”
Bízhan replied: “'Tis true. Thou hast lost all
For me, and I,” he added, “needs must tell thee,
O my belovéd mate and prudent comrade!
'Tis fit thou counsel me in all, my brain
Is void through suffering, so know that he—
The jewel-merchant, he whose cook provided
The dainty meal for thee—came to Túrán
On mine account, for else he had no need
Of gems. The Maker pitied me, and I
Perchance shall see earth's broad expanse. This man
Will free me from these longsome griefs and thee
From plodding to and fro in heat and anguish.
Do thou draw near and say to him in private:—
‘O thou the paladin of this world's Kaians,
Affectionate of heart and good at need!
Inform me if thou art the lord of Rakhsh?’”
Manízha left the forest like the wind,
And gave the message. Rustam hearing her,
Who from afar had come to him for help,
Knew that Bízhan had made the secret known
To that slim Cypress with the rosy cheeks.
He pitied her and said: “My Fair! may God
Ne'er take away from thee Bízhan's devotion.
What toils must thou have borne these many days
That thou hast grown so woe-begone with care!
Tell him: ‘Yea! God who heareth cries for help
Hath given unto thee the lord of Rakhsh,
Who from Zábul Íránward, from Írán
Túránward, trod the weary way for thee.’
When thou hast said this keep the matter secret,
And give good ear at night to any sound.
Collect dry fuel from the wood to-day
And, when night cometh, set the pile ablaze
To guide me to the opening of the pit.”*

Manízha, joyful at the words and freed
From trouble, hastened to the mountain-top,
Where in the pit her lover was confined,
And said: “I have repeated all thy message
To that illustrious, glorious one whose steps
Are blessed. He answered: ‘I indeed am he,
Whose name and sign are asked for by Bízhan.
O thou who goest with a heart so seared,
And washest both thy cheeks with tears of blood!
Say: “We are dappled like a pard with galls
On hands and girdlestead on thine account,
And now that we have certain news of thee
Thou shalt behold our deadly falchion's point,
Now will I rend the earth beneath my grasp,
And fling that seated boulder to the sky.”’
He said to me: ‘As soon as heaven is dark,
And night freed from the clutches of the sun,
Set thou a fire, as 'twere a mount, ablaze,
And make it bright as day about the pit,

To guide me on the road.’”

Bízhan rejoiced,

Although a prisoner still, and, looking up
To Him, the Almighty Maker of the world,
Said: “O compassionate and holy Judge!
Thou art my Helper out of every ill.
Pierce with Thy shaft my foeman's heart and
soul.
Now do me right on him that did the wrong:
Thou knowest all my sorrows, pain, and grief.
Perchance I may regain my native land,
And leave behind me this malignant star!
And thou, my toil-worn mate, thou who hast made
Life, body, heart, and goods a sacrifice
For me, and in thy toil on my behalf
Hast counted every trouble as a joy,
Hast given up the crown and throne and girdle,
Thy parents and thy kindred and thy treasure!
If I do but escape this Dragon's clutch,
While I am still within the time of youth,
I, like the devotees who worship God,
Will run toward thee with mine arms outstretched,
And, like a servitor before a king,
Gird up my loins to make thee fair return.
Bear yet this toil, thy guerdon shall be great
In goods and treasure.”

Bird-like to the boughs

She flew for wood, with arms full watched the sun,
And thought: “Oh! when will night rise o'er the
hills?”
When Sol had vanished and dark night had led
Its army o'er the mountain-tops what time
The world, its features hidden, taketh rest,
Manízha went and set a-blaze a fire,
That scorched the eye of pitch-black night, and listened
To hear the clanging of the kettledrum
Which told that Rakhsh the brazen-hoofed had come.