Now Farídún, when twice eight years had passed,
Sought out his mother on the plain and said:—
“Disclose thy secret, say who is my father,
What is my lineage, whom shall I declare
Myself in public? Let me have the truth.”
She said: “I will tell all, my noble boy!
Within Írán erewhile lived one Abtín,
Of royal race, discerning mind, wise, brave,
And inoffensive, sprung from Tahmúras;
Abtín knew all the pedigree. Thy sire
And my dear spouse was he; my days were dark
When we were parted. Now Zahhák the warlock
Stretched from Írán his hand against thy life,
But I concealed thee. Oh! what woeful days
I passed while that brave youth—thy father—forfeited
His own sweet life for thee! Now on Zahhák
The warlock's shoulders grew two snakes which sucked
The life-breath of Irán, and thy sire's brains
Were taken from his head to feed them. I
In course of time came on an open pasture,
As yet unknown to fame, and there beheld
A cow like jocund spring, well shaped and coloured
From head to foot: before her sat her herd
Upon his heels as one before a king.

I put thee in his charge. For long he nursed thee
Upon his breast, the cow of peacock-hues
Supplying thee with milk that made thee thrive
Like some bold crocodile, until the tidings
Of cow and meadow reached the Sháh, and then
I bare thee from the pasture in all haste
And fled Írán and home and family.
He came and slew the noble, tender nurse
That could not speak to thee, then sent the dust
Up from our home and turned it to ditch.”
The prince, enraged thereat, mused on revenge,
And said with aching heart and knitted brows:—
“The lion groweth brave by venturing,
And since the sorcerer hath done his part
Mine is to take my scimitar and lay
His palace in the dust; such is God's will.”
She said: “This is not well; thou canst not stand
Alone against the world. He hath the crown
And throne, and troops at his command, who come
From all the realm to battle when he willeth,
A hundred thousand strong. View not the world
With boyish eyes; the laws of blood-revenge
Demand it not. Drunk with the wine of youth
Men think themselves the only ones on earth
And vapour, but be thy days mirth and joy.
Do thou, my son! bear this advice in mind,
Give all words save thy mother's to the wind.”