One dawn Iblís, unknown to Kai Káús.
Addressed the assembled dívs: “Our daily task
Is one of cruel labour for the Sháh.

We need a dív shrewd and presentable
To tempt him, soil his Grace, wean him from God,
And thus abate his tyranny.”

They heard

And mused. None answered, for they feared Káús.
At length a wicked dív arose and said:—
“Be mine this subtile task. I will pervert
His mind from God as none but I can do.”
Appearing as a youth of good address
And mien, he waited till the famous Sháh
Went hunting from Pahlav. The dív approached
With roses to present, then kissed the ground,
And said: “Thy glory and thy Grace are such
That heaven is thy fit home and earth thy slave;
Thou art the shepherd, nobles are the sheep.
One thing is lacking still—that thou shouldst leave
Thine everlasting mark upon the world.
How is it that the sun concealeth from thee
The secret of its rising and its setting?
What is the moon? What are the night and day,
And who is master of the turning sky?
Thou hast the earth and all thou didst desire;
Now take the heaven also in thy toils.”
The Sháh's heart strayed, he tarried not to think,
Convinced that turning heaven favoured him.
He knew not that the sky is ladderless,
Nor that, though stars be many, God but One,

What ever He commandeth must be done
How ever great the struggle and the stress.
The Maker hath no need of sky and earth;
'Twas for thy sake that both of them had birth.
The Sháh mused how to roam the air though wing-
less,
And often asked the wise: “How far is it
From earth to moon?”

The astrologers replied.

He chose a futile and perverse device:
He bade men scale the aeries while the eagles
Were sleeping, take a number of the young,
And keep a bird or two in every home.
He had those eaglets fed a year and more
With fowl, kabáb, and at some whiles with lamb.
When they were strong as lions and could each
Bear off a mountain-sheep he made a throne
Of aloe from Kumár*

with seats of gold.
He bound a lengthy spear at every corner,
Suspended a lamb's leg from every spear-head,
Brought four strong eagles, tied them to the throne,
And took his seat, a cup of wine before him.
The swift-winged eagles, ravenous for food,
Strove lustily to reach the flesh, and raising
The throne above earth's surface bore it cloudward.
Káús, as I have heard, essayed the sky
To outsoar angels, but another tale
Is that he rose in this way to assail
The heaven itself with his artillery.
The legend hath its other versions too;
None but the All-wise wotteth which is true.
Long flew the eagles, but they stopped at last,

Like other slaves of greed. They sulked exhausted,
They drooped their sweating wings and brought the
Sháh,
His spears, and throne down from the clouds to earth,
Alighting in a forest near Ámul.*

The world preserved him by a miracle,
But hid its secret purposes therein.
In answer to his prayers a duck*

appeared,
For something must be had to eat and drink,
And if Sháh Kai Káús had perished there
Worldlord Khusrau had not been born from him.*

Instead of sitting on his throne in might
His business then was penitence and travail.
He tarried in the wood in shame and grief
Imploring from Almighty God relief.