Gív told the prince: “If thou art Kai Khusrau
The stream will favour thee. When Farídún
Crossed the Arwand*

it led him to the throne,
And all the world became the slave of him
Who had the Grace and glory. Tarry not
If thou art Sháh, the shelter of the Lions
And warriors. The stream will give thee passage,
Who hast the mien and Grace to deck a throne.
If I. or if thy mother should be drowned,
Grieve not. For thee I lived because the throne
Of king of kings was naught. My mother too
Bare me for thee. Pause not or else, I doubt not,
Afrásiyáb will reach the river-bank

In fury, hang me on the shameful gibbet
Alive, and fling thyself and Farangís
To feed the fish or tread you under hoof.”
Then Kai Khusrau replied: “So be it. Enough.
My refuge is with God the Succourer.”
He lighted, groaned, fell prostrate in the dust,
And said: “Thou art my refuge and support;
Thou showest justice and Thou art my way.
Thy Grace for good or ill sufficeth me;
The shadow of Thy wing is wisdom's soul.”
He spake, and radiant as the morning star
Bestrode his sable steed, took to the water,
Reached like a boat the toll-house opposite,
And issued from the bed of the Jíhún
With gallant Gív and Farangís behind him.
Thus all three safely gained the other side,
Where Kai Khusrau, his head and body bathed,
Thanked and adored the Maker of the world.
As they went o'er the master of the boats
Astound said to his mates: “Behold a wonder!
This passeth all! Springtide! Jíhún in spate!
Three steeds and riders mailed! No sage would deem
Him man who went across in such a case.”
He saw his plight, regretted his rash words,
Supplied his boat with such things as he had,
Set sail and went to ask the prince's pardon.
When he arrived upon the farther shore
He brought his offerings before Khusrau,
He brought a bow, a lasso, and a casque,
But Gív thus answered him: “Insensate dog!
Thou saidst: ‘The stream will sweep a man away,’
And when so great and puissant a prince
Requireth thee to furnish him a boat
Refusest! Perish all thine offerings!
A day will come when thou wilt think of this.”
The river-warden went off in chagrin,
Despairing of his life. On his return
The army from Túrán was at the toll-house.
Afrásiyáb, not seeing man or boat
Upon the stream, cried fiercely to the toll-man:—
“How found that dív his way across the water?”
The man replied: “O king! my father took
The toll as I do, yet I never saw
Or beard of one who made the water land.
In springtime when the waves are running high
If thou dost enter there is no escape,
Yet those three riders crossed! Thou wouldst have
said:—
‘The air supported them upon its breast,’
Or, ‘They are children of the rushing wind—
The messengers dispatched by God to man.’”
Afrásiyáb on hearing this turned pale,
And sighing deeply bade the man: “Launch forth
A boat upon the river with all speed.
See if thou canst discern the fugitives,
Upon the road or stopping for repose,
That I may take them prisoners. Make dispatch,
Out with the boat, and get thee gone at once.”
Then said Húmán to him: “O king! consider,
And kindle not a fire within thy breast.
Wilt thou essay Írán with these few horsemen,
Essay the breath and clutches of the Lions,
The elephantine Rustam and Gúdarz,
Tús and Gurgín the shatterer of hosts?
Thou must be weary of the throne indeed
If thou wilt go thus to the Lions' claws.
Hence all is thine to Chín and to Máchín;
Sun, Saturn, Moon, and Pleiades are thine.
Guard thou Túrán and thine own lofty throne:
We need not now fear mischief from Írán.”
With that they turned them in chagrin away,
And matters long continued in this stay.