When tidings that the princes had returned
Reached Farídún he went to meet them, longing,
By trial of their characters, to end
His boding fears, so changed him to a dragon—
One, thou wouldst say, no lion could escape—
Which hissed and bellowed with its jaws aflame.
As soon as he perceived his three sons near,
Like sombre mountains in a cloud of dust,
He too threw dust about and made it fly,
While earth re-echoed with his bellowings.
He rushed in fury toward his eldest son,
That prince of many virtues, who exclaimed:—
“No man of sense and wisdom thinketh good
To fight with dragons.”

Then he showed his back

And fled. The father turned toward the next,
His second son, who when he saw the dragon
Strung up his bow and drew it, saying thus:—
“When fight is toward, what matter if the foe
Be roaring lion or brave cavalier?”
But when the youngest son came up he looked
Upon the dragon and cried out: “Avaunt!
Thou art a leopard: ware the lions' path!
If e'er the name of Farídún hath reached
Thine ears contend not with us, for we three
Are sons of his, and every one of us
A wielder of the mace, and warrior.
Unless thou turnest from thy waywardness
I will discrown thee of thy loathly face.”
The glorious Farídún thus heard and saw,
And having proved their mettle disappeared.

He went away but came back as their sire
With all the pomp and circumstance befitting,
With kettledrums and huge fierce elephants
And bearing in his hand the ox-head mace.
The leaders of the host were at his back,
And all the world was his. The noble princes
Dismounted when they saw the Sháh, they ran
To him and kissed the ground, dazed at the din
Made by the elephants and kettledrums.
The father grasped their hands and welcomed them,
Each to his proper place. On his return
He prayed and offered up much thanks to God—
The Author of his weal and of his woe—
Then summoned his three sons and seating them
Upon the throne of majesty spake thus:—
“That loathly dragon which would scorch the world
Was your own father, who desired to prove
Your mettle, and this known returned with joy.
Now in my wisdom I have chosen fit names
For you. Thou art the eldest, be thou Salm
And have thy wish on earth—thou soughtest safety
And didst not shun to flee the monster's maw.
The rash man who despiseth elephants
Or lions—call him frantic and not brave.
My second son, who from the first showed fight,
Whose courage is more ardent than a flame,
Him name we Túr—a lion brave; not even
A mighty elephant could vanquish him.
To dare is all the virtues in his case,
For no faint heart is master of a throne.
The youngest is a man of sleight and fight,
One that can bide his time and yet be prompt.
He chose the middle course 'twixt dust and flame,
The prudent man's. Brave, young, and sensible
He must alone be praised. Be he Íraj,
And may his end be all supremacy,
Because at first he was not choleric,
But at the time of stress his courage grew.
I open now my lips with joy to name
These Arab dames with fairy countenances.”
He named the wife of Salm, Árzú;* the wife
Of Túr, Máh-i-Ázáda Khú; the wife
Of blest Íraj, Sahí, to whom Canopus
Was but a slave in beauty. Afterwards
He brought a catalogue embracing all
The stars within the circling sphere of heaven,
Whose aspects readers of the stars had taken,
Spread it before him and observed the fortunes
Of his illustrious sons. Salm's horoscope
Was Jupiter in Sagittarius.
Next came the horoscope of glorious Túr—
The Sun ascendant in the Lion's House—
A presage brave; but when the Sháh observed
The horoscope of blest Íraj he found
The Moon in Cancer; thus the stars revealed
A destiny of strife and woe. The Sháh
Was sorely troubled, with a deep cold sigh
Perceived that heaven loved not his bright-souled son,
And as he mused thereon he could not be
But filled with thoughts of grave anxiety.