Húm, after having bound the monarch's arms,
Bore him from his retreat. Afrásiyáb
Exclaimed: “O pious man, thou devotee,
Who knowest holy God! what wouldest thou
With me—a monarch of the world although
I live concealed in this unfathomed cave?”
Húm said: “For thee it is no resting-place.
Thou art reported through the world as one
Oppugnant to the fear of holy God,
Who slew midst kings his brother Ighríras,
Illustrious Naudar, and Siyáwush,
That heirloom of the Kaians. Shed not thou

The blood of kings nor flee from throne to cave*

Unfathomed.”

“Man of might!” the king replied,

“Whom knowest thou in this world free from fault?
Such was the process of high heaven above me
That I have brought forth travail, loss, and anguish;
Though one may catch a lion by the neck
He cannot thwart the purposes of God.
Oh! pity me who am in hopeless plight,
And am, however much I be a tyrant,
The grandson of the glorious Farídún!
Oh! free me from thy lasso's bondage! Whither
Wouldst bear me vilely bound? Hast thou no fear
Of God upon the Day of Reckoning?”
Húm said: “Malignant one! good sooth, thy days
Are few, thy words as weeds within a garden:
Thy fate is in the hands of Kai Khusrau.”
Albeit Húm was sorry for the wretch,
And loosed for him the royal lasso's coils,
While he, on finding that the holy man
Felt pity for a king's bewailings, writhed,
And wrenched his body from his captor's clutch,
Then plunged into the lake*

and disappeared!
It happened that Gúdarz, son of Kishwád,
Was on his way with Gív and other nobles
In state with expedition to the Sháh,
And gazing from a distance at the lake
Observed Húm with the lasso in his hand
Disconsolately wandering on the shore,
Saw too the water troubled and, observing
The sorry looks of Húm, said in his heart:—
“This holy man is fishing on the bank.
Perchance his net hath caught a crocodile,
And he is in amazement at the sight.”
He spake to Húm and said: “O holy man!
What is thine object? Make it known to us!

What wouldst thou of the lake unless to wash
That dusky form of thine?”

Húm answered him:—

“O noble man! consider what hath chanced:
I have my dwelling on yon mountain's top
Afar from men and 'tis mine oratory.
I passed the night, the livelong night, in prayer
Till at the hour when birds begin to sing
A sound of lamentation reached mine ears,
And thus I thought in my shrewd heart: ‘Now I
Will rase the root of vengeance from the world.
This bitter wailing in the hours of slumber
Can be from no one but Afrásiyáb.’
I rose, searched all the mountain and the caverns,
And saw in one the famous man himself;
That luckless one was lying in the cave,
Lamenting bitterly o'er crown and throne.
He sprang up at mine entry from his place,
And gained a footing on the flinty floor,
Yet bound I with my girdle both his hands
Firm as a rock, so that they dripped with blood,
And brought him from the mountain in all haste,
What while he wailed and shrieked as women do.
Moved by his great and lamentable cries
And promises, I somewhat loosed his bonds.
Then on this very spot he slipped my grasp,
And pierced my heart and soul by his escape.
He vanished in these waters of Khanjast.*

Now have I told thee all about the case.”
Gúdarz, when he had heard the whole account,
Recalled to mind a legend of old times,
And full of thought went to the Fane of Fire,
Just like a man o'crwrought, and there began
To pray before the Fire, and offer thanks
To Him who made the world; then told the Sháhs
The secret and the things that he had witnessed,
Whereat they mounted on their steeds again,
And full of joy departed from the Fane.