Šāh-nāmah - The Šahnama of Firdausi, Volume 2

>genealogy<

>graphic<

>genealogy<

>graphic<

á as in “water.”

í as in “pique.”

ú as in “rude.”

a as in “servant.”

i as in “sin.”

u as in “foot.”

ai as i in “time.”

au as ou in “cloud.”

g is always hard as in “give.”

kh as ch in the German “buch.”

zh as z in “azure.”

The poet continues and ends the story of the great feud between the descendants of Íraj and Túr. It is set out at large and ends with the triumph of the former.

He then tells of the coming of Zarduhsht (Zoroaster), of his evangel, and of the religious wars that ensued, taking occasion in this connexion to rescue from oblivion the name of the poet Dakíkí.

He next narrates the extinction of the heroic race of Írán, and the circumstances that led to the conquests of Sikandar (Alexander the Great), with whose death the Kaiánian dynasty comes to an end.

The word Kai, from which the adjective Kaiánían is derived, is found in the Vedas under the form of Kavi, where it means a ?? or priest, and is ?? applied to the priest who, by drinking the ?? juice of the ??,⁸

became ??. In the ?? two very different ??. In one of ??, and particularly in the ?? as the ??, it in ?? with ?? in the other it forms a part of the names of a whole dynasty of ??, who are known collectively as the Kávyans or Kaians. This twofold ?? has been appealed to by ?? to support his theory that ?? from a ?? among the ?? theory which has been much disputed.^8a

In the Sháh??áma also the word is used in two senses, as a general term for a great king or ruler, and as the distinctive title of the royal house of Kubád, the founder of the Kaiánian dynasty. This consists of ten Sháhs, who fall into two groups. The first contains three Sháhs—Kubád himself, his son Káús, and his great grandson Khusrau. With the last of these the old epic cycle of the poem comes to an end, and up to this point the Kaiánian may be regarded as the complement of the Pishdádían dynasty. We are then introduced to the second group—the Sháhs of the house of Luhrásp—Luhrásp himself, Gushtásp, Bahman, Humái, Dáráb, Dárá, and Sikandar. Luhrásp, though of Kaian race, is represented as owing his accession to the throne to the nomination of Khusrau. With the accession of Luhrásp a new epic motive is introduced— a religious one—and the scene of action is shifted to Balkh. A very noticeable feature of this part of the poem is the prevalence of the termination ‘asp,’ the Persian word for ‘horse,’ in the names of the chief characters. Thus we have Luhrásp himself, his son Gushtásp, and the great minister Jámásp, while we know from other sources that the name of the father of Zarduhsht (Zoroaster) was Pauráshasp.⁹

It is, however, still more remarkable to find that the reigning king of Túrán of the period is named Arjásp.^9a

It looks as if the wars, admittedly religious, between Gushtásp and Arjásp were not waged between the Íránians and Túránians at all, though they ??ame in time to be looked back upon as such, but were wars between the Íránians themselves due to the dissensions caused by the ?? of Zarduhsht.

Professor ??, who is concerned to ?? the Zandavasta as far as possible, is inclined to regard Luhrásp and Gushtásp as kings of an ancient dynasty flourishing at Balkh about 1000 B.C.^9b

This of course is opposed to the old notion which sought to identify and to ?? the chief characters and events of the Kaiánian dynasty with the accounts found in Greek authors of the so-called ??, and first ??.^9c

So far as ?? history is concerned, however, it may be stated ?? that there is no ?? ground between the Sháhuáma and the works of ?? Greek ?? we ??each the ?? of Sikandar Alexander the Great and even then the ?? is due to the fact that ?? derived his information from the modified version of the ?? legendary history of Alexander the Great —which he found ready to his hand among ?? other authorities. With regard to ?? the ?? is different. The two main Greek versions of the youth of Cyrus the Great may be identified in the Sháhnáma, that of Herodotus in the account of the birth and bringing up of Kai Khusrau, and that of Ctesias in the account of the early days of Ardshir Pápakán, the founder of the Sásánian dynasty.¹⁰

This does not imply, as in the case of Sikandar, that Firdausí was in any way indebted to Greek sources, but that he and the Greek writers both availed themselves of the same cycle of legend at intervals many centuries apart. The same may be said of the charming story of Gushtásp in Rúm, which will appear in a later volume of this translation. A Greek version of the love-interest in this story is preserved for us in the ?? of Athenæus,^10a

who quotes Chares of Mytilene—an official at the court of Alexander the Great—as his authority. Similarly in Humái, the seventeenth Sháh, we may have a reminiscence of ??.

With regard to the Kaiánian dynasty in general we may say that in no other part of the poem is the epic subject-matter so abundant or of finer quality, nor in any part of this long dynasty superior to what is to be found in the reign of Kai Káús in this volume.

Kai Kubád ascends the throne, and defeats the Túránians. Rustam in this his first campaign greatly distinguishes himself, and nearly takes Afrásiyáb prisoner. Pashang, the father of Afrásiyáb and ruler of Túrán, sues for peace and terms are arranged. Kai Kubád rewards Zál, Rustam, and others for their services, and makes Istakhr his capital. At the end of a long and glorious reign he dies after appointing his son Kai Káús as his successor.

Kai Kubád is mentioned at least twice in the Zandavasta, where he appears under the name of Kaváta, or Kavi Kaváta, and the name of his son Kai Káús appears both there and in the Vedas. We have no accounts of Kai Kubád's ancestry in the poem beyond the vague statement that he was descended from Farídún.¹¹

He is described indeed as being brought by Rustam from Mount Alburz—the great mythical range which was supposed to encircle the earth. According to the Bundahish, Kai Kubád, like Dáráb after him, was exposed at birth and was found and adopted by Zav, the son of Tahmásp, the ninth Sháh.^11a

The same authority describes him as reigning for fifteen years.^11b

Hearing this

He went, reviewed his host, and on the morrow
Marched forth while shouts rose from his tent-enclosure.
Then Rustam armed and like an angry elephant
Sent up the dust, the troops arrayed their ranks,
And girt their loins for bloodshed. On one wing
Mihráb the master of Kábul was stationed,
Upon the other doughty Gustaham.
Káran the warrior was in the centre
With bold Kishwád the shatterer of hosts,

When Rustam saw the doings of Káran,
And what war is, he went to Zál and said:—
“Tell me, O paladin of paladins!

His flag and mail are black, his helm and brassards
Of iron flecked with gold, his plume is sable.
Avoid him, he is brave, his fortune sleepless.”
“Be not concerned for me,” was Rustam's answer.

At this good news

The Sháh gave orders to his troops to fall
In mass like wind upon the enemy
And utterly o'erthrow them, fruit and root.
He rose himself like fire, and all his host
Heaved like a stormy sea. Zál and Mihráb,
The Lion, went forth keen and valorous;
The din of battle rose with falchion-flash

Heroic Rustam in the fight that day
With dirk and lasso, mace and scimitar,
Clave into pieces, rent and brake and bound
The heads, breasts, feet, and hands of warriors,
For eight and fifty score of gallant chiefs
That Lion slaughtered in a single charge.
Zál gazing on his son illustrious
In Grace and might felt his heart throb with joy

Upon the Turkman side Afrásiyáb
Fled to the river-bank and tarried there
For seven days, made ready on the eighth,
And gat him to his sire, all rage and grief;
His tongue was long although his hands were shortened.
“O famous king!” said he, “the fault was thine
In seeking war; the mighty men of old
Gave kings no precedent for breach of faith.
The offspring of Íraj polluteth still
The earth; that poison gnaweth yet; they come
Without a break to lord it o'er the world.

Revive not ancient feuds for, if we pass
The boundary and prosecute the war,
We shall but make the world strait to ourselves.
Thou know'st that sight is better than report,
For hearsay's belly is an empty one.
To fight Írán appeared a jest to thee,
The soldiers think that it hath gone too far.
Defer not to to-morrow this day's work;
Who knoweth what to-morrow may bring forth?
The roses blooming in the garden now
To-morrow thou wouldst pluck—when they are
worthless!
Mark what a wealth of golden equipage,
Of golden helmets and of golden shields,
How many Arab steeds with golden bits,
What Indian scimitars with golden scabbards,
And, over and above these, what famed chieftains
The blast hath vilely borne away—Kulbád,
And bold Bármán who hunted lions only,
And Kharzarwán, whom Zál hath dashed to pieces
And shown his massive mace's mastery,

The chieftain of Túrán, whose eyes were tearful,
Was all astonied at Afrásiyáb

Decked with a hundred colours and designs:—
“In the name of Him who ruleth sun and moon,
And gave to us the faculty of praise!
May He accept the soul of Farídún,
From whom our race deriveth, warp and woof.
Hear now, O famous Kai Kubád! and I
Will utter words of kingly rede and right.
Túr brought calamity on blest Íraj
Upon a question touching crown and throne.
On this I say that feuds should not endure
For ever, and if vengeance for Íraj
Was owing it was wreaked by Minúchihr.

The Sháh prepared

Gifts both for Rustam and for Zál whose head
He crowned, whose loins he girt, with gold, and gave
Half of the world to him. He kissed the ground.
Kubád the fortune-favoured further said:—
“Ne'er may the throne of majesty lack Zál,
One hair of whom outweigheth all the world;
He is the heirloom left us by the great.”
They furnished forth five elephants with litters
Inlaid with turquoise brighter than Nile-water,
And spread upon the litters cloth of gold,
Besides unreckoned wealth, a royal robe
Of gold, a crown and girdle wrought of jewels
And turquoise, all of which he sent to Zál,
And said: “I fain had sent a greater gift,

Thence Kai Kubád departed unto Párs
Where lay his treasury. The capital
Was then Istakhr—the glory of the Kaians.
With general assent he claimed the crown
And, mounted on the Kaian throne, held sway
By justice and the customs of the wise.
He thus addressed the chiefs: “The world is mine.
For elephants to war on gnats would make
A breach in Faith and justice. I will have
Naught but the right, for of God's anger cometh
Disaster. I have brought men peace by toil
And justice, and where earth and water are
My treasure is. Kings are my bodyguard;
I hold the citizen and soldier equal.
Make God your refuge, be ye wise and harmless,
Enjoy what ye possess, give liberally,
And thank me too for that which ye enjoy;
While they that want and cannot live by work
Shall pasture at my court.”

He gathered troops,

And went about inspecting everywhere.
Thus for ten years he roved and ministered
All justice publicly and privily.

A century passed,

A change of fortune came to crown and throne,
For when the Sháh perceived that death drew near,
And that the green leaf was about to wither,
He summoned noble Kai Káús, spake much
Of justice and of generosity,
And said: “I load the baggage to depart.
Perform mine obsequies and take the throne,
Though as for me I seem but just arrived
Rejoicing with my men from Mount Alburz!
Oh! what a thing is fortune thus to leave us
Without a warning! They that worship it
Lack wisdom. Thou, if thou art just and upright,
Wilt have thy guerdon in the other world,
While if thy passions shall ensnare thy wits
Thou wilt unsheathe a sword whose edge is keen—
A sword wherewith thou first wilt wound thyself
And afterward resign it to the foe:

Kai Káús on ascending the throne abandons the path of wisdom. He invades Mázandarán and is taken prisoner, but is rescued by Rustam. He wars against the king of Hámávarán, whose daughter he marries, and is taken prisoner again, this time by treachery. Rustam again rescues him. Afterward he attempts to fly to heaven, and is a third time saved by Rustam. The poet then tells two episodic stories, that of the Seven Warriors, and that of Suhráb, in both of which Rustam takes a leading part. We next learn what evil came of the marriage of Kai Káús with the daughter of the king of Hámávarán as exemplified in the tragic tale of Siyáwush. The poet then tells how Rustam took vengeance on Afrásiyáb for the execution of Siyáwush, how Gív went to Túrán in quest of Kai Khusrau, the son of Siyáwush, and how Kai Khusrau became joint Sháh with Kai Káús.

Kai Káús appears in the Vedas as Kávya Ushaná, i.e. Ushaná the son of Kavi. He is said to have installed Agni (fire) as the high-priest of mankind, to have been the leader of the heavenly cows (the clouds) to pasturage, and to have wrought the iron club with which the god Indra sl??w the demon Vritra.²⁵

The conception is therefore mythological. In the Zandavasta Kai Káús appears as Kavi Usa. “We sacrifice ??to Ver??thraghna,^25a

made by Ahura… He carries the chariot of the lords; he carries the chariot of the lordly ones, the chariots of the sovereigns. He carried the chariot of Kavi Usa.”^25b

With the exception of this reference to his attempt to fly to heaven the remainder of his legend is lost so far as the Zandavasta itself is concerned, but a brief summary of what it once contained is extant in the Dínkard,²⁶

where we also find a strange story, of which no trace is to be found in the Sháhnáma, that Kai Káús possessed a wonderful ox, to whose judgment all disputes as to the frontier-line between Írán and Túráin were referred. As the decision was generally adverse to the Túránians they conceived the idea of beguiling Káús into slaying the ox, and succeeded in their purpose.^26a

The story is characteristic of Kai Káús, who is represented in the poem as a very imperfect character, and easily led astray by passion, wrongheadedness, and evil counsels.

According to the genealogy of the Bundahish, Káús was the grandson of Kai Kubád.^26b

Firdausí omits the intermediate generation.

The length of the reign is the same in both cases, and the Bundahish places Káús' attempt to reach the sky after he had been on the throne for seventy-five years,^26c

and was, so to speak, at his meridian.

The poet, after bewailing the death of Kai Kubád and that an evil shoot should spring from so good a root, tells how Kai Káús was seduced by a dív into invading Mázandarán, how he and all his host were taken captive and blinded by the White Dív, how Rustam went to their rescue, what adventures befell him by the way, and how he delivered the Sháh and host.

Mázandarán, the ancient Hyrcania, lay, in the scheme of the old cosmogony, beyond the limits of the Central Clime²⁷

from which it was cut off by the great range of the Alburz Mountains, and extended from their northern scarp to the shores of the Caspian. Being abundantly supplied with moisture by the clouds which are stopped by, and the snow-fields which form upon, the Alburz Mountains, and the soil moreover being warmed by volcanic heat, the country is extremely fertile and the climate semi-tropical in character. “The lagunes of the coast are succeeded by marsh forests; higher up are fields of rice and plantations of sugar-cane, and beyond these fertile meadows, above which splendid forests of oaks, planes, and elms clothe the heights of Elburz. There is abundance of water fruits, figs and mulberries, olives and oranges, and the vigorous creepers of the vines run even to the summits of the trees.”^27a

On the other hand the climate is unhealthy and the air of the marshes blanches the inhabitants,^27b

who for this reason were known to the Iránians as white dívs or demons. They are referred to in the Zandavasta and in the Pahlaví texts. “These are the words,” we read in the former, with reference to a sacred formula which had to be recited several times, “that smite down Angra Mainyu,²⁸

… these are the words that smite down the daévas of Mázana.”^28a

In the Dínkard they seem to be described as inhabiting burrows and caves, and as being of filthy habits.^28b

In the Sháhnáma we find this blanched race personified as the White Dív whom Rustam in his expedition into Mázandarán encounters in the cave.^28c

The approach to Mázandarán from Irán was difficult and romantic. Communication between western and eastern Írán depends on two routes which, branching from Tihrán, run to the south of, and parallel to, the Alburz range, an outlying spur of which they cross at two passes named the Firúzi Kuh and the Girduni Sirdarra respectively. At a distance of about seventy miles from Tihrán the route that runs through the Firúzi Kuh sends off a branch northward toward Mázandarán. This branch is a mere fissure, a few feet wide, in the mountain-wall, with a stream running at the bottom and water trickling down the precipitous sides, while here and there the fissure opens out into natural grottos and narrow valleys. This route, which abounds with game and is one of the favourite hunting-grounds of the Sháhs, is known as the Girduni S??wachi. Sub-equently the pass of the Firúzi Kuh, six miles to the east of the mountain of that name, after traversing a tremendous gorge, sends off another branch to Mázandarán of a somewhat less romantic character than that of the Girduni Sawachi, and runs on to Astrábád, whence also Mázandaran may be reached.^28d

It was on emerging from the gloom of one of these passes that Rustam, we may imagine, reached the smiling land where he encountered Úlád, whose account of the extent of Mázandarán is of course enormously exaggerated.^28e

The reader will see on looking at a map of Persia that Mázandarán is a region of quite moderate dimensions. Accuracy in matters geographical is not one of Fir-dausi's strong points.

With regard to Rustam's route we are told that by Zal's advice^28f

he took the short road, not the long one taken by Kai Káús. Of course he would not take the latter, for Kai Káús, we may presume, started from Istakhr in Párs, to the west of the central desert, while Rustam started from Zábul, to the east of it. Firdausí merely means to indicate that Rustam did not follow the ordinary route, but cut as the crow flies across the waste. This route took, we are told, fourteen days, but Rustam ??an a two days' journey into one and made seven stages of it, in the course of each of which he met with an adventure. This expedition of his is accordingly known as the “Haft Khwán,” the former word meaning seven and the latter the tray on which food is served up. His expedition therefore may be regarded as being a meal with seven courses. It has also been suggested that in the account of the seven buildings of Kai Káús, described in Part II. § 8 of this reign, we have the origin of the Haft Khwán of Rustam, and also of the similar expedition, which occurs much later in the poem, of Asfandiyár against Arjásp.²⁹

We may add that in the Pahlaví the word used for these buildings is “mán.” “Mán” comes from the same root as our word “mansion.” In the Pahlaví form of the legend Rustam's expedition may have been known as the Haft Mán. In the translations from the Pahlaví legend, if such existed, this would naturally become “Haft Khán,” the seven stopping-places or rest-houses, and this might easily be corrupted into the “Haft Khwán,” the seven meals partaken of therein. Our text, however, has “Haft Khwán,” which we translate “The Seven Courses,” keeping the collocation of “The Seven Stages” for the corresponding expedition of Asfandiyár.

With regard to the opposition of the chiefs to the expedition of Kai Káús to Mázandarán as being unprecedented,^29a

we can only suppose it to be a rhetorical flourish put into their mouths by the poet, who has already told us that Farídún and Minúchihr resided there.^29b

At the present day “Dív” is a title of honour among the nobles of that region.^29c

If ever mortal injury befall
A fruitful tree, when it hath waxen tall,
Its leaf will fade, its root become unsound,
Its head begin to bend toward the ground;

Káús, succeeding to his father's throne
With all the world to serve him, looked upon
Heaped hoards of treasures manifold, and knew
That he had not his peer on earth for wealth
Of necklaces, of earrings, and of thrones,
High-crested Arab steeds, and golden crowns
Inlaid with emeralds.

Now as it chanced

He sat one day and quaffed delicious wine
Within a pleasure-palace arabesqued
With gold, and sat upon the golden throne,
Whose feet were crystal, master of the world,
Discussing many matters great and small
In converse with the Iránian paladins,
And spake on this wise: “Who is Sháh but I,
Who worthy of the throne except myself?
I rule the world with none to say me nay.”
The Sháh was thus conversing in his cups,
What while the captains wondered, when a dív
In minstrel's guise addressed the chamberlain.
“A native of Mázandarán am I,”

“Mázandarán, my native land!
May I forget it never,
And may its fields and fells abide
As populous as ever,

“For on its heights the hyacinth
And tulip bloom, while roses
Are ever blossoming anew
Within its garden-closes.

“The landscape is fulfilled with charm,
The atmosphere is pleasant,
And there is neither heat nor cold,
But spring is ever present.

“While in each garth the nightingale
Discourseth musically,
The deer are pacing daintily
In every mountain valley

“Throughout the year without a break
Intent upon their questing,
And evermore the hues are bright,
And scents exhale unresting.

“As for the rivers thou wouldst say:—
‘They run rose-water surely!’
And at the fragrance breathing thence
The soul rejoiceth purely.

“There when the year is young and when
'Tis many a month the older,
A soil all tulips and a-bloom
Saluteth the beholder.

“The livelong year the streamlet's lips
Are laughing, and the foray
Of hawk and hunter after game
Will never fail of quarry.

“The provinces are gaily dight
Throughout their whole dimensions
With golden coins and with brocade,
And goodliest inventions:

“The handmaids there, as idols fair,
Are crowned with crowns all golden,
And there the loins of all the great
With belts of gold are holden.

“He that is not in that fair land
Of joy exceeding measure,
Delighting heart and mind alike,
What can he know of pleasure?”

The words roused Kai Káús, he was resolved
To lead a host against Mázandarán,
And thus harangued his warriors: “We have been
Too fond of feast. The brave but indolent
Will never tire of leisure and of home,

Zál answered:

“The maxims of the men of old recur
To one whom years have worn, and later on
The course of heaven will justify his conduct.
We must not keep our counsel from the Sháh,
For he hath need thereof. If he rejecteth
The words of wisdom he will rue it sorely.”
They cried: “We are agreed and will not hear
Another's words,” then sought with one accord
The crown and throne and presence of their lord.

Attended by the lords with golden girdles
Zál led the way and, when he saw Káús
Rejoicing on the throne, approached the state
With downcast eyes and folded arms, then said:—
“O worldlord, who art mightiest of the mighty!
Throne hath not heard of, nor crown seen, thy peer,
Revolving heaven hath heard not of such fortune,
As thine. Be victor all thy years and glad
With heart all wisdom and with head all justice.”
The famous Sháh received Zal graciously,
And, giving him a seat upon the throne,

Zál heard,

And baffied answered: “Thou art Sháh, and we
Are slaves who speak in love and, right or wrong,
Must move and breathe according to thy will.
I have relieved my heart as knowledge prompted.
No one can root out death, sew up the eyes
Of destiny with needles, or escape
From want by abstinence; in this regard
E'en princes must submit. May this bright world
Prove prosperous to thee, and mayst thou never
Have reason to recall these words of mine;
May thine own doings cause thee no remorse,
And be thy heart and Faith and rule resplendent.”
Grieved that the Sháh would go Zál took his leave
In haste, and as he left the monarch's presence
Both sun and moon were darkened in his eyes.
The gallant nobles—Tús, Gúdarz, Bahrám,
And Gív—went with him, and Gív said to Zál:—
“May God direct us! Were Káús not Sháh
I should esteem him naught. May greed, death, want,
Be far from thee, foes' hands too short to reach thee.

Thus Gív. Zál, clasping to his heart

The warriors, made ready to depart.

Next day arose the tymbals' din, Gúdarz
And Tús led on the troops. Káús, their lustre,
Went with them, and upon a shaded spot
Set up his throne before Mount Ispurúz
For rest and sleep, while terror everywhere
Fell on the brutish dívs. Upon the heights
The Sháh spread cloth of gold: the air was fragrant

The Íránians plundered for one week, then ceased.
The monarch of Mázandarán received
The news; his heart was sad, his head was heavy.
There was a dív named Sanja at the court,
Who also grieved. The monarch said to him:—
“Go swift as Sol in yonder circling heaven
And tell the White Dív: ‘There hath come a host
Out of Írán to spoil Mázandarán;
They have burnt up our cities and inflamed
Our vengeance by the outrage. Kai Káús,
With many young and brave, is in command
Without thy help we shall be all destroyed.’”
When Sanja heard the message he sped forth
And carried to the dív the king's appeal.
The White Dív answered: “Be not in despair,
For I am coming with a mighty host
To cut the Sháh's foot from Mázandarán.”
He spake and like a mountain rose erect;
His head was level with the turning sky.
Night came, a cloud involved the Íránian host,
The world grew like a negro's face for blackness,
And thou hadst said: “'Tis like a sea of pitch,
And all its light is lost.”

The White Dív spread

Above their heads a tent of pitchy smoke,
Air dusked and eyes were darkened. From the sky
He showered stones and darts, the Íránian troops
Dispersed abroad, and many sought Írán,
Heart-broken at the doings of Káús.
When day had come the ambitious Sháh and most
Among his warriors were blind. The nobles
Were wroth with him, his troops were prisoners,
His treasures pillaged, and his fortunes old.
It is a ne'er to be forgotten tale,
For at such wonders wonder's self must fail!
Now when the Sháh perceived his plight he said:—
“A prudent minister is more than treasure;
Alas that I accepted not the counsel
Of Zál the worldlord but misdoubted it.”
When he had passed seven days in misery
And looked on no Íránian, on the eighth
The White Dív thundered at him: “O thou Sháh,
As fruitless as a willow! thou wouldst have
Complete supremacy and seize our pastures.
Like to a maddened elephant's appeared
Thy strength to thee, thou wouldst not yield to any!
Content not with the crown above thy throne
Thou hast perverted wisdom and hast wrought
Ill in Mázandarán, and slaughtered many

Went to the monarch of Mázandarán,
And took with him the treasure and the troops,
The captives and the steeds caparisoned.
This done the White Dív went back to his home
As glorious as the sun, while Kai Káús
Remained within Mázandarán to moan:—
“I was to blame for this and I alon??e.”

Káús with stricken heart sent to Zábul
To Zál a warrior, like a bird that flew
As swift as smoke, to say: “What hap is mine!
My crown and throne have tumbled to the dust.
And heaven hath given to the dívs my treasures
And troops arrayed like roses in the spring;
The wind, thou wouldst say, rose and bore them off.
Mine eyes are blinded and my fortunes shent,
My crown and throne are both o'erturned, and I
Lie stricken in the hand of Áhriman,
Who rendeth me asunder, soul from body.
I often sigh to think on thine advice,
Which I rejected foolishly, thus causing
The present trouble. If thou dost not act
Both capital and interest will be lost.”
He went as 'twere a bird as swift as smoke
And told what he had seen and heard to Zál,
Whose skin burst at the tidings, but he kept

Said Zál:—

“There are two routes both hard and dangerous;
One, which is long, was taken by Káús;
The other is a journey of two weeks,
The haunt of dív and lion, and all gloom;
Its murk will maze thine eyes. Choose thou the short,
And see its wonders; God will be thine aid.
What though the way be hard? An end will come,
The feet of glorious Rakhsh will traverse it,
And I will pray all night to see again
Thy limbs and iron mace; while if the Worldlord
Shall let the dívs' grip close upon thy life,
Who can resist His word? 'Tis said and done.
None can abide here though he tarry long,
And one whose fame embraceth all the world
Is not cast down at going.”

Rustam answered:—

“I gird me to obey although the great
Of yore walked not to Hell advisedly,
And only one grown sick of life will counter
The rending lion. Think of me as girt
And gone. I ask no help but God's, will give
Both soul and body for the Sháh, and break
The talismans that guard those sorcerers.
All that survive among the Íránians there
Will I bring back and gird their loins again;
I will not spare the White Dív nor Arzhang,
Nor Sanja nor Púlád son of Ghundí,

He said: “Good mother!

I did not choose my course; 'tis destiny.
Do thou commit to God my soul and body.”
The people came to him to say farewell;
Who knew if he should look on Rustam more?
Uncounted by the wise the moments fly,
And, when an evil day hath passed thee, try
To reckon that the world hath gained thereby.

Then Rustam, that world-brightening paladin,
Departed from his sire and, treating night
Like day, made two days' journey into one,
Not giving Rakhsh repose. Now as his body
Failed him through lack of food he reached a plain
Where onager abounded, and urged Rakhsh
To whom their speed was slow: no beast could 'scape
From Rustam's lasso and his horse's feet.
The Lion with his royal lasso caught
A gallant onager and, striking sparks
Upon an arrow's point, enkindled fire
With stubble, thorns, and wood to roast the beast.
He ate the flesh and threw away the bones;
The onager itself was pot and tray.
He spied some pasture, slipped off Rakhsh's bridle,
Turned him out loose upon the meadow-land,
And made himself a couch within a reed-bed;
He deemed it safe though it was fear's own door,
For in it was a lion's lair; no elephant

He had to face all dizzy as he was
A desert waterless, a heat intense
That dried the birds to powder; plain and waste

A dragon, such an one as, thou hadst said,
No elephant could 'scape, came from the waste,
Its haunt was there; no dív dared pass thereby.
It came, beheld the atheling asleep,
A charger near him, and was wroth. It thought:—
“What do I see? Who dareth to sleep here?”
Because no lions, dívs, or elephants
Dared pass that way or, if they did, escaped not
The clutches of that dragon fierce and fell.

“I am Rustam,”

He answered, “sprung from Zál—the son of Sám—
And Narímán withal. I am myself
A host, and trample earth 'neath dauntless Rakhsh.
Thou shalt behold my prowess; I will lay
Thy head in dust.”

The dragon closed with him,

And in the end escaped not though it strove
So fiercely with the elephantine hero
That thou hadst said: “He will be worsted.” Rakhsh,
On seeing the dragon's might, and how it battled
With Rustam, laid his ears back, joined the fray,
Bit at the dragon's shoulders, tore its hide
As though he were a lion, and amazed
The valiant paladin, who with keen glaive
Smote off the dragon's head; blood jetted out
In rivers, and its carcase hid the earth.

Thanksgivings done, he harnessed rose-cheeked Rakhsh
And mounting came in time where sorcerers dwelt.
Long had he fared and saw, as Sol declined,
Trees, grass, and stream—the very spot for youth.
There was a spring as bright as pheasant's eyes;
Beside it were a golden bowl of wine,
A roasted mountain-sheep with bread thereon,
And salts and sweetmeats. Rustam thanked the Lord
For showing him a place so opportune,
Dismounted from his steed, took off the saddle,
And marvelled at the loaves and venison.

“Oh! Rustam is an outcast still
And hath no days of pleasure,
Marked out for every kind of ill
And not a moment's leisure.

“Be where he may it is his plight
With battle still to harden,
And wilderness and mountain-height
Must serve him for a garden.

“His combatings are never done
And there is no assuagement,
'Tis dragon, dív, and desert—one
Perpetual engagement!

“The wine and cup, the scented rose,
And where lush herbage groweth—
Such things are not at his dispose,
These fortune ne'er bestoweth

“On one that with the crocodile
Is still engaged in fighting,
Save when the leopard for a while
The combat is inviting.”

The sound of music reached a witch's ears;
She made her cheeks like spring, although by rights
She was not fair, and then, perfumed and decked,
Approached, saluted, and sat down by Rustam,
Who gave God thanks at finding in the desert
Board, wine, and lute, and youthful boon-companion.
Not knowing that she was a wicked witch,
An Áhriman beneath her bravery,
He handed her a cup of wine, invoking
The Giver of all good. Now when he named
The Lord of love her favour changed; no soul
Had she for gratitude, no tongue for praise,
But blackened at God's name, while Rustam, flinging
His lasso quicker than the wind, ensnared,
And questioned her: “What art thou? Speak and show
Thy proper favour.”

In the lasso's coi??ls

There was a fetid hag all guile and wrinkle,

He journeyed on and reached a place of gloom
Black as a negro's face—a murky night
Without a star or moon; thou wouldst have said:—
“The sun is captive and the stars are lassoed!”
He gave the rein to Rakhsh and journeyed on,
Not seeing height or river for the murk.
When he emerged to light he saw a land,
Like painted silk with crops, where all was verdure
And streams; the old world had renewed its youth.
His clothes were drenched, and longing for repose
He took off his cuirass of tiger-skin,
And dripping helm, to dry them in the sun.
Unbridled Rakhsh, and loosed him in the corn,
Then, donning his dried helmet and his breastplate,
Couched like a mighty lion in the grass.
His shield his pillow and his hand on hilt.
The watchman of the plain, on seeing Rakhsh
Among the crops, ran up with hue and cry;
He smote the hero smartly with a stick
Upon the foot and said, as Rustam woke:—
“O Áhriman! why didst thou loose thy steed
Among the corn to eat where others toiled?”
But Rustam, angered, seized the watchman's ears,
Wrung them and tore them off without a word.

Said Rustam, “if a cloud hath lion's claws,
With swords and maces only for its fruit,
And beareth on its lap the heads of chieftains.
My real name, should it reach thine ears, would freeze
Thy life's breath and heart's blood. Hast thou not heard
Of the elephantine warrior's bow and lasso
In every company? We call the mothers
Of sons like thee shroud-stitchers, wailing-women.
Thou comest thus against me with a troop,
But only throwest walnuts on a dome.”
With that he drew his baleful Crocodile,
Hung his coiled lasso to the saddle-bow,
Came like a lion midst a flock, and slew
All that were in his reach. At every stroke
He sheared two chieftains' heads and strewed the dust
Beneath his feet therewith. The troops thus broken
Fled in dismay, and wilderness and dale
Were filled with dust-clouds by the cavaliers
As they dispersed among the rocks and hollows.
Then Rustam, like an elephant enraged,
With sixty coils of lasso on his arm,
Pressed forward and, when Rakhsh was near Ulád,
Whose day was darkened, flung his mighty lasso,
Ensnared that chieftain's head, and then alighting
Made fast his hands, drave him in front and, mounting,
Said: “If thou speak the truth, and if I find
No guile at all in thee from first to last,
If thou wilt show me where the White Dív dwelleth,
Where dwell Púlád son of Ghundí and Bíd,
And where Káús, who caused these ills, is bound;

Ulád said: “Be not wroth,

But gracious just for once and slay me not
In wantonness, and I will answer thee.
I will point out to thee the roads and city
Wherein Káús is bound, the White Dív's dwelling
And Bíd's, since thou hast reassured my heart.
Know, O thou worshipful dív-hearted hero!
That God hath fashioned thee of noble clay!
There are between us now and Kai Káús
A hundred leagues, O thou of gracious feet!
Whence to the White Dív is another hundred.
The road is bad and dangerous, through a gorge—
A fearful spot o'er which no eagle flieth.
There is a cavern midst two hundred others,
A wondrous place beyond all measurement,
And there twelve thousand warriors, all dívs,
Keep watch by night upon the mountain-top;
Their captain is Púlád son of Ghundí,
While Bíd and Sanja are their outpost-guards.
Of all the dívs the White Dív is the chief;
At him the mountains shake like willow-leaves,
And thou wilt ??ind his person mountain-tall,
With shoulders, breast, and neek ten cords across.
E'en with such arms and hands and reins as thine,
And though thou brandishest sword, mace, and spear,
And hast such stature, mien, and energy,
It is not well for thee to fight that dív.
Beyond are rocks that no gazelle could pass,

From the Buzgúsh,^55a

whence to Mázandarán
The journey is a foul and tedious one.
A myriad of cavaliers at least
Are posted through the realm, so armed and paid
That thou wilt not see one dissatisfied.
There are twelve hundred elephants of war;
The city cannot hold them. Thou'rt but one,
Though iron, and but gratest on the file
Of Áhriman.”

The words made Rustam laugh.

“If thou wilt be my comrade,” he replied,
“Thou shalt see how one elephantine chief
Will treat yon famous band by help of God,
The Prosperer, and fortune, arms, and prowess.
When they behold my might of breast and neck,
And mace-blows in the fight, their feet and hides
Will burst in sheer dismay, they will not know
A stirrup from a rein; so point me out
Káús, where'er he be, and step along.”
This said, he sprang on Rakhsh, while swift as wind
Ulád ran on beside him, day or night
Not resting till he reached Mount Ispurúz,
Where dívs and warlocks had o'erthrown Káús.
At midnight shoutings went up from the plain,
The folk lit watch-fires in Mázandarán
And torches everywhere. Then matchless Rustam
Asked of Ulád: “What is the cause that fires
Are springing up to right and left of us?”
“It is the entrance to Mázandarán,”
Ulád replied. “The more part of each night
None dareth sleep; the dív Arzhang is there
And he is ever noisy.”

Rustam slept

Till dawn, then took Ulád, bound him in anguish
Against a tree, and, hanging on the saddle
The mace his grandsire had been wont to use,
Departed confident and full of ruse.

In royal helm and sweat-soaked tiger-skin
He sought, intent on fight, the chief Arzhang,
And shouted in the middle of the host;
Thou wouldst have said: “The hills and seas are
rent!”
The dív Arzhang came leaping from the camp
At that tremendous shout, while Rustam spurring
Came on him like Ázargashasp, grasped boldly
His head and ears and neck, then lion-like
Tore off his head and flung it at his troops.
The dívs' hearts burst in terror at the sight
Of Rustam's iron mace, and son and sire,
Forgetting land and crops, went oft pell mell,
While Rustam drew his vengeful scimitar
And cleared the neighbourhood. At set of sun
He made all speed back to Mount Ispurúz,
Untied Ulád, and, as they sat beneath

He went girt up—all battle and revenge;

The White Dív also thought:—

“Life hath no hopes for me, for, should I scape
This Dragon's claws, maimed as I am and torn,
None great or small within Mázandarán
Will look at me.”

Such was his wretched comfort!

But still they wrestled, streaming blood and sweat,

“I give thee all

Mázandarán,” he answered. “I have yet
Long toils before me, many ups and downs,
For I must hale its monarch from his throne
And fling him in a ditch, behead a myriad
Of sorcerer-dívs with my relentless sword,
And then, it may be, tread the ground again,⁶¹

But if not I will still keep faith with thee.”
He reached Káús while all in gladness cried:—
“The chief of ardent spirit hath returned!”
And ran to him with thanks and praise past count.
He said: “O Sháh, thou seeker after knowledge!

They anointed his dim eyes,

Which grew as bright as Sol, and forthwith Rustam
Anointed all the others with the blood.
Their eyes grew bright, and all the world to them
A rosary. They hung the crown and set
Káús beneath it on an ivory throne
As monarch of Mázandarán, with Rustam,
Tús, Faríburz, Gúdarz, Ruhhám, and Gív,
Gurgín and brave Bahrám. One week he revelled,
The eighth day mounted with his chiefs and troops,
Who spread themselves like fire among dry reeds
Throughout the land and plied the massive mace
According to the bidding of the Sháh.
They scorched the realm with their keen scimitars,

The son

Of Zál and all the other chiefs agreed
On this that such a letter should be sent
To give his darkened mind enlightenment.

A skilled scribe wrote upon white silk a letter
Both kind and harsh, inspiring hope and fear,
First praising God, the Source of every good,
“Who gave man wisdom, made the turning sky,
Revealing hardship, cruelty, and love,
Who gave to us to compass good and ill,
And ruleth o'er the circling sun and moon…

The people there with leathern feet appear,
Hence their nickname Narmpái for many a year.
There lived among his chiefs and men of war
The monarch of Mázandarán of yore.
Farhád sent on a man to tell the king
Of his approach and business, who on hearing:—
“A prudent envoy cometh from the Sháh,”
Sent forward to receive him a great host,

The Sháh replied:—

“The signet and the crown gain light from thee,
Who art at once ambassador, bold Tiger,
And haughty Lion of the battlefield.”
With that he called a scribe, whose pen he made
An arrowhead, and wrote: “Such talk is futile
And cometh ill from one of sober sense.
If thou canst purge thy head of arrogance
Do as thou art commanded like a slave,
Thou wilt not wreek thy realm but pay me tribute
Unvexed by war, enjoy Mázandarán,
And 'scape with life from Rustam; but if thou
Refusest I will march upon thee, stretch
My host from sea to sea, and then the soul
Of thy malevolent White Dív will bring
The vultures to enjoy thy brains, O king!”

The letter sealed, aspiring Rustam flung
His mace upon the saddle and approached

The matchless Rustam

That moment came like some fierce elephant
Before the king who, seeing him, assigned him
A place of honour, asked about Káús,
The host, the travail of the longsome road,
Its ups and downs, and then said: “Thou art Rustam;
Thy breast and arm befit a paladin.”
He said: “I am a slave if fit to serve.
Where Rustam, that brave paladin, is present

He gave the letter—

A message from ambition to self-will—
And said: “The scimitar is bearing fruit,
It beareth on its lap the heads of nobles.”
The king when he had heard the embassage,
And read the letter, was displeased and marvelled.
He spake to Rustam, saying: “To what end
Are all these frivolous demands of thine?
Say to Káús: ‘Thou art indeed the Sháh,
But, though thou hast the heart and claws of lions,
Still I am monarch of Mázandarán,
Possess a host, sit on the golden throne,
And wear the crown. To summon me??absurdly
Before thee thus is neither right nor royal.
Think, and ambition not the thrones of kings,
For in the quest dishonour will befall thee.
Ride thou Íránward or a lance's point
Shall end thy days. If I lead forth my host

The king was wroth;

His evil nature turned his thoughts to bloodshed;
He cried: “Arrest the envoy in my presence,
Disseat him and behead him.”

Instantly

An executioner approached the throne
To seize his wrists and hale him from his seat,
But Rustam, roaring like a lion, caught
The executioner's wrists and dragged him close,
Then flung him down and, holding one foot fast,
Set his own foot upon the other one

When Rustam left, the king of sorcerers
Prepared for war, brought out his tent-enclosure,
And led the whole host forth upon the waste;
Their dust hid sun and desert, plain and mountain,
While earth reeled 'neath the tramp of elephants.

Káús replied:—

“Be thine the task, for none will seek it else.
Go! May the Maker aid thee, be all dívs
And sorcerers thy quarry.”

Rustam urged

His gallant Rakhsh and grasped his weighty spear,
Came on the scene like some mad elephant,
A Pard beneath him and in hand a Dragon,
Sent dust-clouds flying as he wheeled about,
And shouting shook the battle-field. “O knave!”
He cried, “thy name is cancelled 'mong the great.
This is no time of peace and ease for thee,
But pity; she shall weep who bare thee, nurtured,
And chastened thee.”

“Be not too sure,” he answered

“About Juyá and his head-reaping sword;
Thy mother's liver shall be split anon,
And she shall wash thy mail and casque with tears.”
When Rustam heard he raised his battle-cry,
Proclaimed his name, and as he charged appeared
A moving mountain, while his foe dismayed
Wheeled round unwilling to contend with him,
But Rustam following, swift as dust, and aiming
The spearpoint straight against the girdlestead,
So speared the mail that straps and buckles burst,
Unseated him, raised him aloft, and turned him
Like bird on spit,⁷²

then flung him down dust-choked,
With shivered mail. The warriors of the foe
Looked on astound, faint-hearted, pale of face,
And babble filled the field. Their king commanded
The whole host, saying: “Lift your heads and fight
Like leopards in this strife.”

The warriors heard

His warlike words, and of that countless host
A vengeful throng advanced. The Sháh perceived it
And came on too in orderly array.
Both armies drew their swords and closed amid
The din of trump and drum, the sky was ebon,
Earth indigo, while swords and maces gleamed
Like lightning flashing from a murky cloud.
The air was crimson, black, and violet,
With spears and flags. The shouting of the dívs,
The clouds of dust, the roar of kettledrums,
And neigh of steeds, rent earth and shook the moun-tains;
None e'er saw such a fight. Arose the din
Of arrow, mace, and sword, the plain became
A pool of heroes' blood, earth like a sea
Of pitch whose waves were maces, swords, and arrows.
Swift steeds sped on like ships upon the deep,
And thou hadst said of them: “They founder fast!”
While maces rained upon the casques and helms
As autumn-blasts shower leaves from willow-trees.
Thus for a week those glory-seeking hosts
Encountered, on the eighth day Sháh Káús
Took from his head the royal casque and stood
Before the Judge and Guide of this world, weeping,
Then falling prostrate he exclaimed: “O Judge

The Sháh bade some

To bear and set the stone before his tent.
Then all the strongest of the host essayed
In vain to move the mass, howbeit Rustam
Raised it unaided to the troops' amaze,
Then shouldering the rock walked off therewith
With all the people shouting at his back.
They praised the Almighty, scattering gems and gold
O'er Rustam as he bare the stone and threw it
Before the tent-enclosure of the Sháh.
He set a guard and said: “Quit these black arts
And sorceries to take thy proper shape,
Or else with this sharp steel and battle-ax
Will I break up the stone.”

The sorcerer heard,

The stone dissolved like mist, the king was seen
In helmet and cuirass, and Rustam seizing
His hand turned laughing to the Sháh and said:—
“Permit me to present this piece of rock,
Which feared mine ax and quaketh in my grasp.”
The Sháh on looking saw him not the man
For crown and throne; he had a loathly face,
A lanky shape and boar's head, neck, and tushes.
Káús recalled the past with pain and sighs,
Then bade a headsman hew the dív in pieces,
Whom matchless Rustam taking by the beard
Haled from the presence of Káús. They hewed
The dív to pieces as the great king bade.
They gathered all the booty from the camp,
And put together thrones and crowns and girdles,
Steeds, jewelry, and arms. The troops attended,
And each received according to his meed.
The impious dívs, whom all beheld with horror,
Were then beheaded by the Sháh's command
And flung beside the way. He said in prayer:—

Now when Káús was entering Írán,
And when the army's dust concealed the world,
The excitement reached the sun, and men and women
Met him with loud acclaim; they decked the land
And called for wine and harp and minstrelsy.
The world grew young through him, and there arose
A New Moon from Írán. Glad and triumphant
He sat enthroned, unlocked his ancient hoards,
And summoned almoners. A shout went up
Before the gate of elephantine Rustam,
And all the captains of the host assembled
Rejoicing in the presence of the Sháh.
Then matchless Rustam, casque on head, drew near
And seated by the Sháh asked leave to go
To Zál. The worldlord gave him costly gifts,
Such as he merited—a throne with rams' heads
All jewelled in turquoise, a royal crown
Of gems, a robe of gold worn by the Sháh,
A splendid torque and armlet, and withal
A hundred moon-faced boys with golden girdles,
A hundred lovely damsels musky-haired,
A hundred noble steeds in golden harness,
A hundred black-haired mules with golden bridles
All laden with brocade of royal fashion
From Rúm, Pahlav, and Chín, a hundred purses
Filled with dínárs, bright stuffs, perfumes, and trinkets,
A ruby goblet full of purest musk,
Another of turquoise filled with rose-water,
And therewithal a patent writ on silk
With ink of musk, wine, ambergris, and aloes.

—with streams and dew,
And rich by justice and security;
The hand of Áhriman was stayed from ill,
And day and night the fruits and foliage
Invoked a blessing on the crown and throne:—
“A hundred thousand blessings every hour
From the Creator be upon the Sháh,
Who by his justice civilizeth earth
And in his justice mindeth bounteousness.”
'Twas noised abroad: “Káús the Sháh hath taken
The crown and throne out of Mázandarán.”
All wondered that he should achieve such greatness,
The loyal with their gifts and offerings
Drew up in rank before the monarch's door,
And all the world was decked like Paradise,
Fulfilled with wealth and justice.

Thou hast heard

About the warfare with Mázandarán,
Now hear the contest with Hámávarán.