He answered:—
“Choose we a thousand horsemen from the host,
And let them bring the cheetahs and the hawks,
The falcons and the noble peregrines,
Go to Túrán and pass a month in hunting.”
The royal hunter went. He found the world
All hues and scent. His gallant chieftains swept it
For onager, gazelle, and mountain-sheep—
A labour that extended o'er two days—
What while Bahrám had wine in hand; the third,
When Sol illumed its crown, when earth grew golden,
And hill and stream became as ivory,
The valiant Sháh went to the chase and saw
A dragon like a lion. From its head
Hair hung down to the ground, and it had breasts
Like those of women. Then Bahrám Gúr strung
His bow and shot forthwith a poplar arrow
Against the dragon's chest. He shot another
Straight at its head, and gore and venom flowed
Adown its front. The king dismounted, drew
His sword, and carved up all the dragon's breast.
It had gulped down a youth and frozen him
In blood and bane. Bahrám bewailed him sorely
What while the venom blinded his own eyes.
He took the corpse out of the dragon's maw,
Ne'er may its head and breast unite again.
He rode off dizzied, suffering, and longing
For sleep and water, reached a settlement,
Arriving at a house-door from the waste,
And saw a woman shouldering a pitcher.
She veiled her face from him. He said to her:—
“Can I lodge here or must I toil on still?”
She said: “Brave horseman! treat this house as
thine.”
On hearing this he rode his courser in.
His hostess called her husband. “Bring a wisp,”
She said, “and rub his steed. At feeding-time
Feed from the sack.”
Swept out the house and laid down mat and pillow,
With blessings on Bahrám, went to the cistern,
Drew water, and berated to herself
Her spouse the while: “The fool will ne'er bestir
Himself on seeing some one in the house.
This is not women's work, but for my part
I, soldier-like, can only grin and bear it!”
She brought and spread the board with vinegar
And salad, bread and curds. Went Sháh Bahrám,
And bathed his face, for he had been o'erwrought
In fighting with that dragon. So he ate
A little, then lay down and groaned, his face
Concealed beneath a kerchief made in Chín.
The woman, when she woke, said to her spouse:—
“O knave with unwashed face! thou shouldest slay
A lamb because this cavalier is great,
And of the royal seed, hath kingly bearing,
And moon-like Grace, and he is like to none
Save Sháh Bahrám.”
Her mean spouse said to her:—
“Why such to-do? Thou hast no salted meat,
No fire-wood, and no bread, and spinnest not
A-nights as others do. When thou hast killed
A lamb, and he—this cavalier—hath eaten
And gone, then go, buy, mingle with the throng;
The winter, cold, and blast undoubtedly
Will come on thee no less.”
So spake her spouse.
She hearkened not, for she was good and wise,
And in the end her husband slew a lamb
At her entreaty for the cayalier.
When it was slain she made a pot of broth,
And lit a fire with half-burnt sticks, then brought
The tray with eggs thereon and water-cresses,
A roasted leg of lamb and everything
That she had cooked. Bahrám, when he had washed
His hands, his dinner done, felt indisposed
For slumber and still ailed. Now when the night
Foregathered with the sun the woman fetched
Wine and a harp. “O woman of few words!”
The Sháh said, “tell to me some old-world tale
That while thou art reciting I may quaff
To chase away my pain and cares. I give thee
Free speech about the Sháh for praise or blame.”
That woman of few words said: “Yea, 'tis well,
For he is first and last in everything.”
Bahrám responded: “He is so indeed,
But he is just and good to nobody.”
That dame of spirit said: “O honest man!
This place hath many folk and many homes,
She brought the cow
From pasture, got much grass, and threw it down
Before her; then she tried the udders, crying:—
“In God's name who hath neither mate nor peer!”
She found the udder milkless, and the heart
Of that young hostess aged. She told her husband:—
“Good man! our monarch's heart hath changed in
purpose,
The world's king hath become tyrannical!
A secret change came o'er his heart last night.”
He said: “What words are these? Why go and
croak?”
She thus replied: “My dear one! what I say
Is sober truth, for when the Sháh, the world-lord,
Hath grown unjust the moon may shine not forth
In heaven, the udders are dry, the musk-bags lose
Their scent, adultery and guile are rampant,
The tender heart becometh flinty, wolves
Devour folk on the waste, the sage doth flee
The fool, and eggs are addled 'neath the hens
What time the Sháh becometh tyrannous.
The pasture of this cow had minished not,
Her watering-place supplied her as before,
Yet is her udder dry, her lowing changed.”
On hearing this the Sháh forthwith repented,
The milk flowed forth.
The good wife cried: “O God, our Succourer!
Thou hast recalled to justice the unjust,
For, if not so, this virtue were not his.”
Then said she to the master of the house:—
“The justice of the unjust is restored.
Laugh and rejoice; this is the Maker's boon
To us.”
Now when the porridge had been cooked,
And man and wife had done that chare, the good dame,
And after her the master of the house,
Who bare the tray, went to their guest. Upon it
There was a bowl of porridge, oh! how good
Had it been but some broth! The Sháh ate somewhat,
Then spake thus to that kindly dame: “Take thou
This whip outside and hang it where folk pass.
Choose out a proper bough because the wind
Must harm it not, then note the passers by
With one eye on the whip.”
The good-man went
Forthwith, he hung the whip upon a tree,
And kept his eye thereon a while. There came
Innumerable troops along the road,
And all that saw the whip there hailed Bahrám.
They lighted down before that lengthy whip,
And passed saluting. “'Tis the Sháh, none else!”
The good-man told his spouse. “Naught but the
throne
Could fit a face like that!”
Then full of awe
Both ran to him and cried: “O Sháh! O great!
O mighty one! O sage, high priest and world-lord!
A humble woman and her gardener-spouse
Have been thy poor hosts in this house. Withal
They did not do their best. We ne'er suspected
That 'twas the Sháh, that such an one as he
Would come to this place as a guest, would come
To this poor home of ours.”
Bahrám replied:—
“Good friend! I give to thee this march, the land,
And village. Be thou ever hospitable;
Be that, and give up garden-work.”
He spake,
And laughing left the house, gat on his steed