Then Rustam made a goodly iron coffin;
He draped the outside with brocade of Chín,
And smeared with pitch the inside, sprinkling it
With musk and spicery. He made withal
The winding-sheet of gold-inwoven brocade,
While all that noble company lamented.
When he had shrouded that resplendent form,
And crowned it with a turquoise coronet,
They sealed the narrow coffin and the Tree
So fruitful and so royal was no more.
Then Rustam chose him forty camels, each
Clad in a housing of brocade of Chín.
One of the camels bore the prince's coffin
With camels right and left, and guards behind
With hair and faces rent. One theme alone
Possessed their tongues and souls—Asfandiyár.
Before the cavalcade went Bishútan.
Asfandiyár's black charger had been docked,
Both mane and tail, its saddle was reversed,
And from it there were hung his battle-mace,
His famous helm withal, surtout and quiver
And head-piece. They set forward, but Bahman
Stayed at Zábul and wept with tears of blood.
Him matchless Rustam carried to the palace,
And tendered as his life.

News reached Gushtásp:—

“The famous prince's head hath been o'erthrown!”

He rent his robes, his crowned head came to dust,
A bitter wail rose from Írán, the world
Rang with Asfandiyár. Throughout the realm,
Where'er the tidings came, the nobles doffed
Their crowns. Gushtásp exclaimed: “O pure of Faith!
Time and the earth will not behold thy like,
For ever since the days of Minúchihr
There hath not come a chief resembling thee
Who fouled the sword and fulled the Faith, and kept
The world on its foundations.”

In their wrath

The nobles of Írán put off all awe
For Sháh Gushtásp, and cried: “Thou luckless one!
To save thy throne thou sentest to Zábul,
For slaughter there, the great Asfandiyár
That thou mightst don the crown of all the world.
May thy head shame to wear the crown of Sháhs,
Hot-foot thy star desert thee!”

In a body

They left the palace, and the monarch's crown
And star were in the dust.

Now when the mother

And sisters of Asfandiyár had heard,
They came forth from the palace with their daughters,
Unveiled, with dust-fouled feet, and raiment rent.
When Bishútan came weeping on his way,
And after him the coffin and black steed,
The women hung on him, wept tears of blood,
And cried: “Undo this narrow coffin's lid,
Let us too see the body of the slain.”
He stood among the women, full of grief,
Mid groans and sobs and beatings of the cheeks.
Then said he to the smiths: “Bring sharp files hither,
For this is Resurrection Day to me.”
He oped the covering of the narrow coffin,
And gave fresh cause for weeping. When the mother
And sisters of Asfandiyár beheld
His visage steeped in musk, and sable beard,
The hearts of those chaste ladies crisp of lock

Filled to o'erflowing, and they swooned away.
Revived, they prayed to glorious Surúsh,
Departed from the pillow of the prince,
And went with wailing to his sable steed,
Whose neck and head they fondled lovingly,
And Katáyún flung dust thereon. The prince
Had ridden that charger on the fatal day,
And perished on its back. The mother said:—
“O thou of luckless feet! the Kaian prince
Was slain on thee. Whom wilt thou bear to battle
Henceforth and yield up to the Crocodile?”
They clasped its neck and strewed its head with dust,
The host's cries reached the clouds, and Bishútan
Approached the palace. Coming to the throne
He kissed it not, nor did the Sháh obeisance,
But cried: “O chief of chiefs! the sign hath come
Of thine undoing. Herein thou hast done ill
To thine own self by robbing kings of breath.
Both Grace and wisdom have abandoned thee,
And thou wilt suffer chastisement divine.
Thy main support is shattered, famous Sháh!
And henceforth thou wilt grasp but wind alone.
To keep thy throne thou giv'st thy son to slaughter,
And may thine eye behold not crown and fortune.
The world is full of foes and evil men,
Thy crown will not endure eternally,
Abuse will be thy portion in this world,
And inquisition at the Judgment Day.”
This said, he turned his face toward Jámásp,
And cried: “O impious wretch and ill of rede!
Thou never speakest aught but lying words,
And thou hast made thy fame by knavery.
Thou art the cause of feud between the Kaians,
And settest them the one against the other.
Thou canst not teach them aught but wickedness,
To break away from good and take to ill.
In this world thou hast sown one seed, and thou
Wilt reap the fruits in public and in private.
A magnate hath been slaughtered through thy words:
Thou saidst: ‘The lifetime of the great is over.’
Thou didst instruct the Sháh in evil ways,
Old ill-adviser and malevolent!
Thou saidst: ‘Asfandiyár the hero's life
Is lying in the grasp of famous Rustam.’”
This said, he loosed his tongue and weeping told
The counsel and last wishes of the dead,
And told too how the prince had given Bahman
To Rustam's keeping. Bishútan told all.
The Sháh, on hearing those last words, repented
About the matter of Asfandiyár.
The nobles having gone forth from the palace,
Humái and Bih Áfríd approached their sire,
And in his presence tore their cheeks and plucked
Their hair in sorrow for their brother, saying:—
“O famous monarch! heed'st thou not at all
Asfandiyár's decease, who was the first
To venge Zarír and take the Onager
Out of the Lion's claws, exacted vengeance
Upon the Turkmans and restored thy sway?
But thou didst bind him at a slanderer's words
With heavy yoke and iron bars and lasso.
While he was in his bonds Luhrásp was slain,
And all the army's fortune overthrown.
When from Khallukh Arjásp arrived at Balkh
Our lives were rendered bitter by distress.
Us, who had ne'er appeared unveiled, he bore
Uncovered from the palace to the street,
Quenched Núsh Ázar established by Zarduhsht,*

And laid his hand upon the sovereignty.
Thou sawest what thy son achieved by valour;

He made thy foes breath, vapour, flying dust,
Restored us to thee from the Brazen Hold,
And guarded both thine army and thy realm;
But thou didst send him to Zábul and give him
No lack of counsel and of parting words
With the intent that he should perish there
To win the crown. The world was grieved and mourned
him.
It was not the Símurgh or Zál or Rustam
That slew him; it was thou, so do not weep!
May thine own hoary beard cry shame upon thee,
Who, merely in the hope of reigning on,
Hast slain thy son. There hath been many a world-
lord
Before thee, worthy of the royal throne:
They gave not child nor any of their kin,
Or their allies or household, to be slain.”
Thereat the Sháh spake thus to Bishútan:—
“Rise and fling water on my daughters' fire.”
Then Bishútan departed from the palace,
And took the ladies, saying to his mother:—
“Why mourn him sleeping well and happily,
Tired of the land and of the lord thereof?
Why is thy heart in grief on his account,
For now his conversation is in Heaven?”
The mother took her son's rede and therewith
Resigned her to the justice of the Lord.
For one year afterward in every dwelling
Were wailing and lament throughout Írán;
Both morn and eve the folk mourned bitterly
The tamarisk arrow and Zál's sorcery.