Years passed away, calamity approached
The dragon-king, the blesséd Farídún
Was born, the fashion of the world was changed.
Of cypress height he shone forth with the Grace
Of kings of kings which erst Jamshíd possessed,
Was like the sun, as needful as the rain
To earth and fit as knowledge to the mind;

Revolving heaven loved him tenderly.
Then lived the cow Birmáya, chief of kine,
Born with a coat all bright and peacock-hued.
The wise, the archmages, and astrologers
Collected round her; none had seen or heard
Of such a cow before.

Meanwhile Zahhák

Was searching everywhere, and filling earth
With hue and cry, till Farídún became
A source of danger to his sire Abtín,
Who fled for life but to the Lion's toils,
For certain of the followers of Zahhák,
That impious monarch, met Abtín one day,
Seized him and bore him, like a cheetah bound,
Before the Sháh, who had him put to death.
When Farídún's wise mother Farának,
A glorious dame devoted to her child,
Perceived her husband's evil fate she fled;
And came heart-broken weeping to the field
Wherein the beautiful Birmáya was.
Still shedding drops of blood she bade the hind:—
“Protect this suckling for me, be a father
To him, and give him milk of you fair cow.
Ask what thou wilt, e'en to my soul 'tis thine.”
The hind replied: “I will perform thy bidding
And be as 'twere a slave before thy child.”

Then Farának resigned the babe to him,
With all instructions that were requisite,
And that wise guardian like a father fed
The child for three years with Birmáya's milk;
But as Zahhák ne'er wearied of the search,
And as the cow was talked of everywhere,
The mother hasted to the field again
And spake thus to the guardian of her child:—
“A prudent thought—a thought inspired by God—
Hath risen in my heart. What we must do
Is this—there is no remedy, my son
And my dear life are one—I must abandon
This land of sorcerers, depart unmarked
To Hindústán and bear him to Alburz.”
Then like a roe or one who rideth post
She took the young child to that lofty mountain
Where dwelt a devotee dead to the world,
To whom she said: “I am, O holy one!
A woeful woman from Írán. Know thou
That this my noble son will be hereafter
The leader of his people, will discrown
Zahhák and tread his girdle in the dust.
Take thou this child and father him with care.”
The good man took her child and never breathed
One cold breath on him.

When the rumour reached

Zahhák about the cow and field he went,
Like some mad elephant, and slew Birmáya,
With all the other cattle that he saw
Within the field, and harried all the land.
He went next to the home of Farídún,
Searched it, but all in vain, for none was found,
And burned the lofty palace to the ground.