The slaves arose and went, remediless
Themselves they sought a remedy for her.
So donning raiment of brocade of Rúm,
And twisting roses in their hair, they went,
The five of them, toward the river-side,
Like jocund spring—all colour and perfume.
'Twas Farwardín, the first month of the year,
And Zál's encampment was beside the stream;
The damsels were upon the farther bank.
Their talk was all of Zál. They gathered roses
Along the river-side. Their cheeks were like
A rosary, and roses filled their laps;
But still they gathered roaming here and there.
When they came opposite the royal tent
Zál, spying them from his high throne, inquired:—
“Who are these flower-worshippers?”

One said:—

“The Beauty of Kábulistán hath sent
Forth from the palace of bright-souled Mihráb
Her waiting-maidens to the rosary.”
Zál's heart beat fast, and being love-distraught
He walked attended by a single slave
Beside the stream. Upon the further bank
He saw the girls, drew himself up and bade
The Turkman slave-boy bring the bow; then looked
For game and lighted on a water-fowl.
The ruddy Turkman slave-boy strung the bow
And laid it in the paladin's left hand,
Who flushed the fowl and shot it as it rose.
Blood dyed the water. Zál said: “Go across
And fetch yon crippled bird.”

The gallant Turkman

Crossed in a boat. The slave-girls questioned him
About the paladin: “This lion-limbed
And elephantine-bodied warrior—
Who is he? Of what people is he king?
What foe could counter him? We never saw
A finer cavalier or better shot.”
The pretty slave-boy bit his lip and said:—
“Speak not so of the king. The son of Sám
Is monarch of Nímrúz, and other kings
Call him ‘Dastán.’ The sky revolveth not
O'er cavalier like him, nor will time see
His peer.”

The damsels laughed and answered thus

The moon-faced boy: “Say not such things because

Mihráb hath now a Moon within his palace,
Who is a whole head taller than thy king,
A teak in stature, ivory in hue,
Crowned with a crown of musk, a thing divine.
Her eyes are pensive and her eyebrows arched;
Their column is a silvern reed. Her mouth
Is narrow as the heart of one forlorn,
Her tresses' ends are coiled like ankle-rings,
Her witching eyes are full of dreamy light,
Her cheeks are tulip-like in hue, her locks
Like musk; her soul is breathing through her lips.
A matchless Moon is she! We from Kábul
Approach the monarch of Zábul in state,
And 'tis our policy to introduce
Our lady's ruby lips to those of Zál,
Which is but well and seemly, for she is
Of equal rank.”

On hearing this the slave-boy

Flushed ruby-like. “The Sun should wed the Moon,”
He said. “Whene'er the world would make a match
The hearts of all concerned find room for love,
And when the world would cause a severance
It parteth mate from mate without a word.
Love's bond is hidden but its rupture seen,
And both are common. Still the bachelor
Enjoyeth peace at home, and since he hath
No daughter, will not hear reproachful words.
Once said the male hawk to his brooding mate:—
‘If hen-birds only from these eggs thou bring
Thou makest of the sire a sexless thing.’”

Now when the laughing slave-boy had returned
Zál asked: “What was it that they said to thee
To make thee laugh and show thy silvern teeth?”
He told the paladin, whose heart grew young
With joy. He bade the moon-faced youth: “Return
And say thus to yon damsels: ‘Stay awhile
Among the roses; ye perchance may take
Some gems as well as blossoms from the garden,
So go not till ye hear from me.’”

He took

Gold, jewelry, and drachms, with five rich pieces
Of gold brocade and bade his slaves: “Convey them
To yonder girls, tell none and be not seen.”
They took the treasures with an ardent message
And gave them to the damsels in Zál's name.
Then said one damsel to the moon-faced page:—
“A matter never can be kept concealed
Unless it be confined to only two;
Three are no casket, four are all the world.
So say to him, shrewd, trusty boy: ‘If thou
Hast secret things to say tell us in person.’”
Rúdába's damsels said to one another:—
“The Lion hath been taken in the toils.
The wishes of Rúdába and of Zál
Have been fulfilled, and matters promise well.”
The black-eyed youth, who brought the monarch's gifts
And acted for him, went and told his chief
In secret what those charming damsels said.

Zál went. Those rosy Idols of Taráz
Drew near and did obeisance. He inquired
About that Cypress-stem, her mien and looks,
Her speech, her wisdom, and her rede, to see
If she were worthy of him. “Speak,” he said,
“Without attempting to prevaricate.
If ye speak truth it will advantage you,
But if I think that ye impose upon me
An elephant shall trample you to death.”
With cheeks that had become like sandarac
The slave-girls kissed the ground before the chief,
And one of them—the youngest of the troop,
A girl of tenderness and ready speech,
Spake thus to Zál: “Among the mighty none
Hath e'er been born of woman in this world
Who could compare with Sám in looks and stature,
In purity, in courage, sense, and knowledge;
Or yet with thee, thou valiant cavalier,
Of lofty bearing and of lion-limbs!
Or with Rúdába in her loveliness,
A silvern Cypress, coloured and perfumed,
Compact from head to foot of rose and jasmine,
While over it Canopus of Yaman
Is shining. One would say: ‘Her face distilleth
Wine, and her locks are scents.’ Insidious lassos
Fall from her head, that cupola of silver,
O'er cheeks of roses to the very ground.
Her head is all a-twine with ambergris
And musk, her person all a-shine with jewels.
Her locks and ringlets are like musky mail
Where ‘there is link on link’ as one might say.
Thou wilt not see in Chín so fair an Idol:
The moon and Pleiades bow down to her.”
The chief on fire rejoined in sugared tones:—
“Say, if thou knowest, how I may approach her.
I love her, heart and soul, and long to see
Her face.”

She answered: “We, if thou shalt bid us,

Will haste back to the palace of our Cypress,
And then beguile her, telling all we can
About the chief of paladins, his prudence,
His looks, his converse, and his ardent soul,
And 'tis an honest work. We will ensnare
Her musky head and bring her lips to Zál's.
The paladin, a lasso in his hand,
May haply stroll toward our stately home
And fling the noose around a pinnacle.
The Lion will rejoice to hunt the Lamb.
Then gaze thy fill on her. Our talk shall be
The earnest of far more felicity.”