§ 5 THE FOURTH STAGE How Asfandiyár slew a Witch

Asfandiyár pitched by the water-side
His tent-enclosure while the troops camped round him.
He set forth wine, called boon-companions,
Rose to his feet, and drank to Sháh Gushtásp,
Commanding too to bring Gurgsár who came
Before him, quaking. Then Asfandiyár
Gave him to drink three cups of royal wine,
Spake laughingly with him about the dragon,
And said: “Thou worthless fellow! now behold
How with its breath that dragon sucked us in!
When I go forward for another stage
What greater toils and troubles are in store?”
Gurgsár replied: “O conquering prince! thou hast
The fruit of thy good star. When thou alightest
Tomorrow at the stage a witch will come
To greet thee. She hath looked on many a host,
But quailed at none. She turneth waste to sea
At will and maketh sunset at mid day.

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Men call her Ghúl, O Sháh! Face not her toils
In these thy days of youth. Thou hast o'ercome
The dragon; now turn back; thou shouldst not bring
Thy name to dust.”

The atheling replied:—

“Tomorrow, knave! thou shalt recount my prowess,
For I will break the warlocks' backs and hearts,
So will I maul that witch, and trample down
Their heads by might of Him, the one just God.”
When day donned yellow weeds, and this world's
Lustre
Sank in the west, he marched on, packed the loads,
With prayer to God, the Giver of all good,
And led the army onward through the night.
When Sol had raised its golden casque, begemming
The Ram's face, and the champaign was all smiles,
The prince gave up the host to Bishútan,
And took a golden goblet filled with wine,
Called for a costly lute and, though he went
To battle, dight himself as for a feast.
He had in view a wood like Paradise;
Thou wouldst have said: “The sky sowed tulips
there.”
The sun saw not within it for the trees,
And streamlets like rose-water flowed around.
He lighted from his steed as seemed him good,
And, having chosen him a fountain's marge
Within the forest, grasped the golden goblet.
Now when his heart was gladdened with the wine
The hero took the lute upon his lap,
And out of all the fulness of his heart
Began to troll this ditty to himself:—

“Oh! never is it mine to see
Both wine and one to quaff with me,
But mine 'tis ever to behold
The lion and the dragon bold,
And not, from bales' elutch, liberty.

Tis not my lot to look upon
On earth some glorious fay-cheeked one,

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Yet now if God will but impart
A winsome breaker of the heart
The longing of mine own is won.”

Now when she heard Asfandiyár the witch
Grew like a rose in springtide, saying thus:—
“The mighty Lion cometh to the toils
With robe and lute and goblet filled with wine.”
Foul, wrinkled, and malevolent she plied
Her magic arts amid the gloom and grew
As beauteous as a Turkman maid, with cheek
As 'twere brocade of Chín and musk-perfumed,
Of cypress-height, a sun to look upon,
With musky tresses falling to her feet.
Her cheeks like rosaries, she drew anear
Asfandiyár, with roses in her breast.
The atheling, when he beheld her face,
Plied song and wine and harp more ardently,
And said: “O just and only God! Thou art
Our Guide upon the mountain and the waste.
I wanted even now a fay-faced maid
Of beauteous form as my companion;
The just Creator hath bestowed her on me,
Oh! may my heart and pure soul worship Him.”
He plied her with musk-scented wine and made
Her face a tulip-red. Now he possessed
A goodly chain of steel which he had kept
Concealed from her. Zarduhsht, who brought it
down
From Paradise for Sháh Gushtásp, had bound it
About the prince's arm. Asfandiyár
Flung it around her neck; her strength was gone;
She took a lion's form. The atheling
Made at her with his scimitar, and said:—
“Thou wilt not injure me though thou hast reared
An iron mountain. Take thy proper shape,
For now the answer that I make to thee
Is with the scimitar.”

Within the chain

There was a fetid hag, calamitous,
With head and hair like snow, and black of face.

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With trenchant sword he smote her on the head,
Which with her body came down to the dust.
Sight failed, so loured the sky when that witch died,
While blast and black cloud veiled the sun and moon.
The atheling clomb to a hill and shouted
As 'twere a thunder-clap. Then Bishútan
Came quickly with the host, and said: “Famed prince!
No crocodile or witch, wolf, pard and lion,
Can stand thy blows, and by that token thou
Wilt be exalted still. Oh! may the world
Desire thy love!”

The head-piece of Gurgsár

Flamed at these triumphs of Asfandiyár.