When a month had passed Bahrám
Grew eager for his wives' society,
And led his people from the hunting-ground.
Folk could not see the way, the cavaliers
Raised such a dust! but swift as dust they sped
Till day's cheeks turned to lapis-lazuli.
The Sháh observed a town in front of him
With groups of houses, roadways, and bázárs,
And ordered that his escort with the baggage
Should push on, leaving not a soul behind.
He asked: “Where is the chief man of the place?”
And then made thither straightway. He beheld
A shattered entry broad and deep. The owner
Came and saluted him. The Sháh inquired:—
“Whose ruin is this and wherefore in such plight
Amidst the town?”
The master said: “'Tis mine,
And ill luck is my guide. I have not here
Kine, raiment, victuals, manhood, understanding,
No feet, no wings. Me thou hast seen, now view
My house—one fitter for a curse than blessing.”
The aspiring Sháh alighted, scanned the house,
And hands and feet both failed him, for the place
Was all sheep's droppings though both great and
vaulted!
The other answered:—
“Why mock thy host so wantonly, O marchlord!
Had I some draperies my guest would praise me,
But I have none, no clothing, food, or carpets.
Pray lodge thee somewhere else; here all is poor.”
The Sháh said: “Fetch a cushion then that I
May sit awhile.”
“The place is ill,” he answered.
“Good sooth! wouldst thou have bird's milk?”
Said Bahrám:—
“Bring fresh milk and new bread if thou canst get it.”
“Imagine,” said the other, “that thou hast
Partaken and gone off with ‘Fare thee well.’
I should not be so lifeless had I bread,
Though life were better far than bread to me.”
Bahrám said: “If thou hast no sheep how come
These droppings here?”
“'Tis night,” the other answered.
“My head is all a muddle with thy talk.
Select some mansion with a curtained entrance;
The master of it will commend thy choice.
Why shouldst thou be with an unfortunate,
Who maketh leaves his pillow for the night?
Thou hast a golden sword and stirrups, thou
Shouldst sojourn not where there is fear of thieves,
For thieves and lions haunt old hulks like this.”
The Sháh said: “If a thief should rob me now
Thou wouldst not be responsible, but give me
A lodging for the night, 'tis all I need.”
“Then need it not,” the owner made reply;
“None lodgeth in my house.”
“O wise old man!
Why art thou,” said the Sháh, “so short with me?
Still thou wilt give me, I presume, cold water,
O noble one!”
“Didst thou not see,” rejoined
The householder, “more than two bow-shots long*
The pool? There drink and take whate'er thou wilt.
Why seek for aught in this impoverished house?
Good sooth! hast never seen a poor man barred
From working by decrepitude?”
Bahrám
Rejoined: “Thou art not one of the first water,
Chief though thou be; so strive not with a soldier.
What is thy name?”
He answered: “Farshídward,
A man without land, raiment, sleep, and food.”
Bahrám asked: “Why endeavour not for provand
And comfort?”
Said the master of the house:—
“He that bestoweth all may end my days.