At sunrise, when the earth resembled flowers
Of fenugreek, the gallant Gív approached
With girded loins, upon a steed with feet
As swift as wind. Gúdarz inquired of him:—
“What comrade hast thou? Who will fare with thee?”
He thus replied: “O chief of paladins,
Brave, ardent, and exalted! I have need
Of no companions save my horse and lasso.
Suspicion will be roused if I take men,
And I shall bring a quarrel on myself.
A lasso in the straps, a rapid steed,
A sword and Indian vesture are enough,
Unless perhaps a guide to lead the way.
My home a while will be the plain and mountain,
I may not pass through cities, for the folk
Will recognise me and I shall repent it.
I shall return rejoicing, bright of soul,
Through thy good fortune, chief of paladins!
Tend heedfully my little son Bízhan*

And guard him carefully against mischance,

Give him instruction in the art of war,
He need learn nothing but to feast and fight;
Young as he is I note his manliness
With satisfaction. Fare well. Think of me
Without anxiety. I cannot tell
If we shall meet again. The secret things
Of God who knoweth? When thy cheeks are bathed
For prayer entreat the Lord on mine account,
For He is higher than all height; the mighty
Are but His slaves. This day revolveth not
Without His will; there is no food or sleep
Save at His word. He made both time and space,
The mighty and the weak. He is our hope
And fear, the Lord of all the elements,
And oh! may He vouchsafe to be my Helper,
And guide me to illustrious Khusrau.”
The father hoary-headed, while the youth
Fierce as a lion girded up his loins,
Knew not if he should see his son again,
And was distracted at his setting out.
The gallant Gív dismounted from his steed,
And kissed the hand of that exalted Lion,
Who clasped him tightly in a fond embrace,
And kissed him oft upon the face and head.
That ancient man cried unto God: “Just Judge!
Be Thou my Helper. To Thy care I leave
Him who is sense and soul and life to me—
My son so noble and so young—that haply
The realm may be delivered from this stress.
Restore him to me safely, O my King!”
Those in the world who toil laboriously,
And win applause because their aims are high,
Must make the dust their bed when all is done;
That is their bane, and antidote is none.
Thy sojourn here, thou knowest, is soon sped,
Why set the crown of greed upon thy head?
Canst thou still wear it after thou art dead?
In this world ample pleasure thou canst take,
Why art thou toiling for another's sake?
Thou toilest and another will consume
At ease, unmindful of thy bier and tomb,
But for him also pleasure hath its bound,
And his head too must pass beneath the ground.
Think then upon the day when thou must go,
And make it thine to serve God here below,
Incline to good and do to no man scath,
For, in a word, this is Salvation's path.
Upon this world that whirleth set no store,
It will not last with thee for evermore.
Long though thou stayest thou wilt reach the bourne
And, having reached it, there is no return.
So now thou sage, whose heart is wakeful! cease
From doubt, and from the mire thy foot release.
'Tis God Almighty that sustaineth thee,
His servant thou and thy Creator He.
Although thou weighest down thy neck with thought,
Of His existence ask and question naught,
And if by any it be not confest
With such thou shalt not eat or sleep or rest,
Because their heads are witless, their hearts blind,
And wise men count not such among mankind.
Both earth and water of God's being tell,
Let not thy knowledge prove thy way to Hell,
For His are power and knowledge and control,
The Artist He of wisdom and the soul.
When mused the monarch of Túrán and said:—
“Above all people will I lift my head,”
And slew a youth so royal, then was he
Confronted by his evil destiny.
Howbeit from his loins God caused to shoot
A Tree*

of noble height and yielding fruit,
A Tree that dealing with him as was just
Sent both his wits and palace up in dust.
The Lord of Saturn, Sun, and Moon is He
That giveth victory and mastery;
The Lord of being and of righteousness,
'Tis He that giveth us our more and less.
There is one path—His will—and only one—
A knowledge hidden from the moon and sun.
At His command Gív girded up his loins,
And like a savage lion sallied forth;
He took no comrade with him, but resigned
To God his body used to luxury;
If, when he reached the marches of Túrán,
He found a man alone Gív questioned him
In Turkman as to Kai Khusrau. When such
Replied: “I wot not of that prince,” Gív used
To slay him, hitch him in the lasso's noose,
Drag him aside, and cover him with dust,
That no one might discover his own secret,
Or hear his name or any news of him.
He had awhile a countryman as guide
From whom he hid the object of his quest.
At length he said: “I fain would ask a question
In confidence. If thou shalt wisely purge
Thy heart of craft and answer truthfully

Then I will give thee whatsoe'er thou wilt,
And not deny thee o'e?? my soul and body.”
“There is no lack of knowledge,” said the guide,
“But then it is dispersed 'mongst all the folk.
If I have any knowledge of the matter
Thou wilt not find me speechless.”

“Where,” said Gív,

“Is Kai Khusrau? Thou must declare the truth.”
The guide thus answered: “I have never heard
Or asked concerning one so named.”

And so

Gív smote him with the sword and laid him low.