Roused by that talk Zahhák resolved to act,
And bade his keen-eyed roadsters to be saddled.
Now as he neared the city by a byway
With valiant dívs and warriors, and saw
His palace-roofs and gate he vowed revenge.
The troops of Farídún received the tidings
And flocked to meet him. Leaping from their steeds
They struggled hand to hand. The citizens,
Such as were warlike, manned the roofs and gates
For Farídún; Zahhák had maddened them.
Bricks from the walls, stones from the roofs, with swords
And poplar arrows in the street, were plied
As thick as hail; no place was left to stand.
The mountains echoed with the chieftains' shouts,
Earth trembled neath the chargers' tramping hoofs,
A cloud of black dust gathered, and the flints
Were pierced by javelins. From the Fane of Fire
One shouted: “If some wild beast had been Sháh,
We—young and old—had served him loyally,
But not that foul Zahhák with dragon-shoulders.”
The warriors and citizens were blent
Together as they fought—a mass of men.
O'er that bright city rose a cloud of dust
That turned the sun to lapislazuli.

Anon Zahhák alone in jealous fear
Approached the palace, mailed, that none might know him.
Armed with a lasso sixty cubits long
He scaled the lofty edifice in haste
And saw beneath him dark-eyed Shahrináz,
Who toyed bewitchingly with Farídún.
Her cheeks were like the day, her locks like night,
Her lips were opened to revile Zahhák,
Who recognised therein the act of God—
A clutch of evil not to be evaded—
And with his brain inflamed by jealousy
Dropped one end of the lasso to the court
And so slid down from that high roof, regardless
Of throne and precious life. As he descended
He drew a keen-edged poniard from its sheath,
Told not his purpose or his name, but clutched
The steel-blue dagger in his hand, athirst
For blood—the blood of those two beauteous dames.
His feet no sooner rested on the ground
Than Farídún rushed on him like the wind
And beat his helm in with the ox-head mace.
“Strike not,” cried blest Surúsh, who hurried thither,
“His time hath not yet come, but bind him van­quished
Firm as a rock and bear him to some gorge,
Where friends and kinsmen will not come to him.”
When Farídún heard that he tarried not,
But gat a lasso made of lion's hide
And bound Zahhák around the arms and waist
With bonds that no huge elephant could snap,
Then sitting on Zahhák's own golden throne
Determined all the evil usages
And made a proclamation at the gate:—
“Ye citizens possessed of Grace and wisdom!
Disarm and follow but one path to fame,
For citizens and soldiers may not seek
A common excellence; this hath his craft
And that his mace; their spheres are evident
And, if confounded, earth will be so too.
Depart rejoicing, each one to his work,
And live and prosper long, because the foul one,
Whose acts brought terror on the world, is bound.”
Men hearkened to the great redoubted Sháh.
Then all the leading, wealthy citizens
Drew near with gladness bringing offerings
And heartily accepted Farídún,
Who graciously received them and discreetly
Gave each his rank's due, counselled them at large,
And offered up his prayers and thanks to God,
Then said: “The realm is mine, your fortune's star
Is bright, for me alone did God send forth
From Mount Alburz by Grace, and for your sakes,
To set the world free from the Dragon's bane.
Blest as we are by Him who giveth good
We ought to walk toward good upon His paths.
As king I may not tarry in one place,
Else would I pass with you a length of days.”
The nobles kissed the ground. Anon the din
Of drums rose from the gate whereon all eyes
Were fixed, the people yelled against the man,
Whose days were almost sped: “Bring forth the Dragon
Bound in the lasso's coils as he deserveth.”
The troops withdrew no wealthier than they came,
And took Zahhák, bound shamefully and flung
In wretched plight upon a camel's back
On this wise to Shírkhán. Call this world old* Or ever thou shalt hear this story told.
What changes numberless have passed and still
Must pass hereafter over plain and hill!
Thus fortune's favourite bore Zahhák toward
Shírkhán, and driving him among the mountains
Was purposing to cast him headlong down,
When came the blest Surúsh and whispered thus
The prince in friendly wise: “Convey the captive
Thus to Mount Damáwand with speed, and take
No escort, or but what thy safety needeth.”
He bore Zahhák as one that rideth post
And fettered him upon Mount Damáwand;
So when new bonds were added to the old,
And fate had not another ill in store,
The glory of Zahhák became like dust
And earth was cleansed from his abominations,
He was removed from kindred and from friends,
And bonds alone were left him in the mountains,
Where Farídún chose out a narrow gorge—
A chasm which he had marked of viewless depth—
And having studded it with heavy nails,
Whereon the brain might chafe, secured Zahhák,
Bound by the hands upon a crag, that so
His anguish might endure. Thus was he left
To hang: his heart's blood trickled to the ground.
Come let us, lest we tread the world for ill,
Be on attaining every good intent;
No good or evil will endure but still
Good furnisheth the better monument.
A lofty palace, wealth of every kind,
Will not avail; thy monument on earth
Will be the reputation left behind
And therefore deem it not of little worth.
No angel was the glorious Farídún,
Not musk and ambergris; he strove to win
By justice and beneficence the boon
Of greatness: be a Farídún therein.
By godlike travail undertaken he
First cleansed the world from its iniquity.
The binding of Zahhák, that loathly one
Devoid of justice, was the chief deed done.
He next avenged the murder of Abtín,
Caused all the world to recognise his sway,
And lastly purged the surface of earth clean
Of madmen, and took miscreants' power away.
O world! how loveless and malign art thou
To breed the quarry and then hunt it down!
Lo! where is Farídún the valiant now,
Who took away from old Zahhák the crown?
Upon this earth five hundred years he reigned
And then departing left an empty throne;
Bequeathing earth to others, he retained
Of all that he possessed regret alone.
So is it with us whether great or small
And sheep or shepherd, 'tis the same with all.