The poet begins with an elaborate prelude wherein he eulogizes Mahmúd and then continues his story of the reign as follows: Kai Khusrau and Afrásiyáb both resolve to carry on the war with vigour. Their preparations are described. The armies meet, fruit­less parleys follow, Shída challenges Kai Khusrau to single combat and is slain. A general engagement ensues, Afrásiyáb is defeated and takes refuge in Gang-bihisht, which is stormed by Kai Khusrau. Afrásiyáb escapes and, helped by the Khán and the Faghfúr, renews the struggle, is again defeated, flees to Gang-dizh, whither he is pursued by Kai Khusrau, again escapes, becomes a fugitive, and finally takes refuge in a cave, where he is made prisoner by the hermit Húm and put to death with his brother Garsíwaz by Kai Khusrau. Kai Káús dies. Kai Khusrau falls into melancholy, persists in giving up the throne, appoints Luhrásp to be his successor, rides with his paladins into the mountains, and dis­appears. Those who remain with him till the end are lost in the snow. Luhrásp becomes Sháh.

On this Part as a whole see Vol. III., p. 8.

§ 1. See Vol. I., p. 30 seq.

§§ 2 and 3. It will be noticed that in this part of the poem several names reappear that have been long absent from its pages, e.g. Ighríras and Káran. The son of Tús is also mentioned, and it is probable that the Zarásp slain by Farúd in Part I. of this reign is intended. Such names are the common property of different and often inconsistent traditions.

Afrásiyáb's son Shída is also called Pashang. We keep invari­ably to the former name, as there are other Pashangs—the father of Afrásiyáb and the father of Minúchihr.

§ 12. Afrásiyáb's brother, whose head Kai Khusrau sends to Kai Káús, is apparently the Ighríras mentioned on p. 156. Accord­ing to another tradition Afrásiyáb had slain his brother Ighríras long before for treachery.*

§§ 13, 31, 36, 38. In these and other sections the reader will note that there are two Gangs—Gang-bihisht, in the original Bihisht-i-Gang, and Gang-dizh—due to the existence of variants of the same legend. For Gang-dizh see Vol. II., p. 189.

Mount Ispurúz was the scene of the defeat of Kai Káús by the White Dív,*

and therefore must be identified with some mountain of the Alburz range bordering Mázandarán, while the sea crossed by Afrásiyáb in his flight from Kai Khusrau can be no other than the Caspian, yet Kai Khusrau is described as sailing from and returning to the sea-shore of Makrán, i.e. Balúchistán, so that we may have here a survival of the old cosmogony (Vol. I., p. 71). The sea crossed by Afrásiyáb and Kai Khusrau is called “the water of Zirih,” and this expression, like the corresponding one in the account of Kai Káús' expedition to Barbaristán, is merely equiva-ent to “sea.”*

§§ 40-44. The old epic story of the feud that began with the murder of Íraj ends appropriately in Ázarbáiján. In Firdausí's version Kai Khusrau and Kai Káús, in despair of catching Afrásiyáb after his flight from Gang-dizh, go on a pilgrimage to the temple of Ázargashasp and pray that he may be delivered into their hands. In the meantime Afrásiyáb has taken refuge in a cave near lake Khanjast*

(Urumiah) in Ázarbáiján, making it, as the poet says, his palace and his home. Here he is overheard bewail­ing himself and is captured by the hermit Húm, but escapes by a subterfuge and plunges into the lake. Gúdarz and Gív happen to be passing at the time, and the former is said to have recalled an old story to mind when Húm informs them of the state of affairs. They communicate with Kai Khusrau and Kai Káús, Afrásiyáb is induced to come forth from the water by a stratagem, and is put to death with his brother Garsíwaz. Most of these incidents appear in the older authorities but, as Darmesteter has pointed out,*

not in the connexion in which they appear in the Sháhnáma. In these the story may be pieced together thus: Afrásiyáb, we are told, made his residence in Mount Bakyír.*

We learn from the Aogemaidé—a Pahlaví discourse on death—that this palace was an iron one, underground, a thousand times the height of a man, and with a hundred columns. In that palace he made the stars, the moon, and the sun go round, making the light of day. In that palace he did everything at his pleasure, and lived the happiest life, but with all his strength and witch­craft could not escape Astivihád (the demon of death).*

Here too he sacrificed a hundred male horses, a thousand oxen and ten thousand lambs that he might seize the Glory that was in the sea Vouru-Kasha and belonged to the Aryan people.*

Three times he sought to seize it in the sea Vouru-Kasha, stripping himself naked in his desire to seize that Glory that belongs to the Aryan nations, born and unborn, and to the holy Zarathustra. But the Glory escaped, the Glory fled away, the Glory changed its seat. Then the most crafty Turanian Frangrasyan (Afrásiyáb) rushed out of the sea Vouru-Kasha, thinking evil thoughts: “I have not been able to conquer the Glory.”*

We read farther how the gallant Husravah (Khusrau) offered up a sacrifice behind the Kaékasta lake, the deep lake of salt waters. He begged a boon saying: “Grant me this, O great Ashi Vanguhi! that I may kill the Turanian murderer, Frangrasyan, behind the Kaékasta lake, the deep lake of salt waters, to avenge the murder of my father Syávarshána (Siyáwush), a man, and of Aghraératha (Ighríras), a semi-man.” The great Ashi Vanguhi ran and came to his side. The gallant Husravah, he who united the Aryan nations into one kingdom, obtained that boon.*

So that … the lord Kavi Husravah prevailed over all; he put in bonds Frangrasyan and Keresavazda (Garsíwaz).*

Of the god Haoma (the hermit Húm of the Sháhnáma) we read that he offered sacrifice, Haoma, the enlivening, the healing, the beautiful, the lordly, with golden eyes, upon the highest height of the Haraiti Bareza. He begged … a boon, saying: “Grant me this boon, O good, most beneficent Drváspa! that I may bind the Turanian murderer, Frangrasyan, that I may drag him bound … unto king Husravah, that king Husravah may kill him, behind the Kaékasta lake, the deep lake of salt waters, to avenge the murder of his father Syávarshána, a man, and of Aghraératha, a semi-man.” The powerful Drváspa, made by Mazda, the holy Drváspa, the main­tainer, granted him that boon, as he was offering up libations, giving gifts, sacrificing, and entreating that she would give him that boon.*

Elsewhere we read: “Quick, cut off then Haoma's portion, gift of flesh for doughty Haoma! Heed lest Haoma bind thee fettered, as he bound the fell Turanian Frangrasyan (the murderous robber) fast in iron close-surrounded in the mid-third of this earth!”*

The original version of the story therefore would seem to have been that Afrásiyáb built himself an underground palace where he offered sacrifice to obtain the Glory of the Íránian race, but vainly. He then attempted three times to seize it by force and again failed. Haoma then captured him in his palace and handed him over to Husravah, who slew him. Firdausí, it will be observed, represents Afrásiyáb's attempt to seize the Glory as an attempt to escape from Húm. Haoma is of course the personification of the ancient Aryan drink-offering*

and a god of the old nature-worship. It is one of the instances in which such divine beings have become human in the Sháhnáma. Another instance is that of Kai Khusrau himself, in whom a trace of his divine origin is to be found in his passing without death to heaven. This trait is found in the Zandavasta: “Mayest thou be freed from sickness and death, like king Husravah!”*

§§ 47-63. The legend of Kai Khusrau's melancholy, his expe­dition into the mountains, and his attainment to Heaven with­out having tasted death, has its parallel in the great Indian epie the Mahábhárata, where Yudhishthira, the eldest of the five Pándavas, becoming weary of the world, resolves to retire from the sovereignty and acquire merit by pilgrimage. On hearing of his intentions his four brothers—Bhima, Arjuna, and the twins Nakula and Sahadeva—resolve to follow his example and accompany him. Yudhishthira appoints succes­sors to his various kingdoms, and makes a distribution of his treasures. He then once more summons his subjects and in­forms them of his intentions. “The citizens and the inhabi­tants of the provinces, hearing the king's words, became filled with anxiety and disapproved of them. ‘This should never be done’—said they unto the king. The monarch, well versed with the changes brought about by time, did not listen to their counsels. Possessed of righteous soul, he persuaded the people to sanction his views. … Then Dharma's son, Yudhishthira, the king of the Kurus, casting off his ornaments, wore barks of trees. Bhima and Arjuna and the twins, and Draupadi also of great fame,*

similarly clad themselves in barks of trees. … The ladies, beholding the princes in that guise, wept aloud. … The five brothers, with Draupadi forming the sixth, and a dog forming the seventh, set out on their journey. … The citizens and the ladies of the royal household followed them for some distance. … The denizens of the city then returned” to their new ruler and to the new situation caused by the renunciation of the Pándavas. The seven pilgrims meanwhile had set out upon their journey. They first wandered eastward, then southward, and then westward. Lastly they faced northward and crossed the Himavat. Then they beheld before them a vast desert of sand and beyond it Mount Meru. One by one the pilgrims sank exhausted and expired, first Draupadi, then the twins, then Arjuna, and then Bhima; but Yudhishthira, who never even looked back at his fallen comrades, still pressed on and, followed by the faithful dog, who turns out to be Dharma, the god of righteousness, in disguise, entered Heaven in his mortal body, not having tasted death.*

On comparing this legend with that of the text it will be seen that, in spite of natural differences of detail, the resemblances are too numerous and close to be wholly accidental. In both legends two kings, after triumphing over their mortal foes in a great war, become world-weary and determine to renounce the sovereignty. In both the people protest in vain. Both kings appoint their successor, whom the people accept. Both bestow gifts and other favours on their chiefs. In both we have the lamentations of the kings' wives. Both journey into the mountains with a devoted band, the number of which is the same in both cases, and both are accompanied by a divine being, for the part of the dog in the Indian legend is indicated in the Íránian as being taken by Surúsh, the angel of Urmuzd.*

In both the leaders pass deathless into Heaven, and in both their mortal comrades perish. One legend therefore must be derived from the other, or else, and this seems to be the better opinion, they must be referred to a common origin of great antiquity.