The chieftain bade a scribe to come, poured forth
His heart and wrote a letter of good cheer,
And first he praised the Maker and the Judge,
“The Source of joy and might, the Lord of Venus,
Of Sol and Mars, of being and not being.
We all of us are slaves and God is One.
May He bless Sám the son of Narímán—
The lord of mace, of scimitar, and helm,
Whose black steed boundeth in the dust of fight,
Who glutteth vultures when he maketh war,
Who raiseth tempests on the battle-field,
Who sheddeth gouts of blood from murky clouds,

Who handleth golden belts and diadems
And setteth kings upon their thrones of gold.
His bravery achieveth feat on feat
And they exalt his name. There liveth not,
Nor ever will, a cavalier so brave.
His thrall am I and love him heart and soul.
He saw how I was born, and ills have come
Since then upon me from the rolling sky.
My father wore luxurious furs and silks;
Me the Símurgh bare to a mount in Ind.
Fain was I that the bird should bring me prey
And number me among its little ones.
My skin was scorched by blast, mine eyes were stopped
With dust. They used to call me son of Sám
Though he was on a throne, I in a nest,
Since God ordained and made this way for me.
None scapeth His ordainment though one fly
Among the clouds, gnaw spearheads, rend the hides
Of lions with his shouting, yea although
His teeth are anvils he is still God's slave.
A thing hath happened which I cannot tell
To every one, and I am broken-hearted,
Howbeit a sire, though fierce and dragon-like,
Should hearken to the secrets of his child.
My tears are for the daughter of Mihráb,
I am as if consumed in raging fire,
The stars are my companions in the night,
My breast is like a sea, I lose my wits
So that my people weep; yet though sore troubled
I will not draw a breath but at thy word.
What doth the chief of paladins command?
Oh! free my mind from this distress and grief!
The archimages have advised me thus:—
‘Let not the chieftain keep his Jewel hidden
But act with loyalty.’ My sire perchance
Will second me herein that I may make
The daughter of Mihráb my lawful wife.
My father will remember that when God
Restored me to him out of Mount Alburz
He pledged his word in presence of his men:—
‘I will not frustrate one wish of thy heart.’
Now this it is whereon my heart is set.”
A horseman left Kábul at lightning-speed
To go to Sám and took a second horse,
For Zál directed: “Should one roadster founder
Stay not to breathe but lightly mount the other
And hurry on to Sám.”

The messenger

Went, like the wind, upon a steed of steel.
When he was drawing near the Kargasárs,
Sám, who was hunting on a range of hills,
Beheld him from afar and told his comrades:—
“There cometh from Kábul a messenger
Upon a white steed of Zábulistán,
Sent doubtlessly by Zál, so let us learn
His news.”

The man approaching kissed the ground,

With many thanks to God. Sám welcomed him
And took the letter, while the man discharged

His errands. Sám undid and read the letter
While coming from the mountains, paled and halted
In wonder not expecting or commending
Zál's conduct. “Yet,” he thought, “'tis natural:
One nurtured by a bird would hanker thus.”
When he returned he pondered long and deeply,
And said: “If I shall say, ‘This is not well,
Oppose me not, incline to wisdom's ways,’
Both God and man will blame my breach of faith.
If I say, ‘Yes,’ and ‘Thy desire is good:
Do as thou wilt,’ what will their offspring be—
This nursling of the fowl and that dív's child?”
He laid him down in grief but could not rest.
The harder any servant's task, the more
His heart is heavy and his suffering sore,
The greater peace and comfort shall he know
Within when God Almighty willeth so.