Káús makes a progress through his realm. He wars against the kings of Barbar, Misr, and Hámávarán; he marries Súdába, the daughter of the king of Hámávarán, and through treachery is taken captive by him. On this the Arabs and Afrásiyáb both invade Írán and fight for its possession. The Íránians in despair appeal to Rustam, who rescues Kai Káús, defeats Afrásiyáb, and reinstates the Sháh, who, warned by past experience, rules justly for a time, rises to the height of his power, and builds himself great palaces on Mount Alburz. Afterward he falls again into temptation, tries to mount to heaven, is rescued again by Rustam, again repents, and again is restored to power. The Part concludes with an account of one of Rustam's raids into Túrán.
§§ 1-6. In the accounts of Kai Káús' two expeditions to Bar-baristán we have a duplication of tradition.
The late Professor Darmesteter has thrown considerable light on that obscure subject, Firdausí's geography in this part of the poem.79
There are several Barbars, and he points out that the one here intended is the Berbera nearly opposite Aden in the British Somali Coast Protectorate. It is the Pun-t of the Egyptian hiero-glyphs, and was then and is still a great trading station. When the south-west monsoon changes into the north-east wind thousands of traffickers begin to arrive, and the place is kept busy from October to April. Further, he points out with regard to Hámávarán that it is a form of the word Himyar, which is another name for Yaman. We may therefore conclude that Firdausí's notion was that Kai Káús marched from Nimrúz to the sea-coast of Makrán (Balúchistán), there built his fleet, sailed past the southern shores of Arabia, and reached some spot north of Berbera on the western shore of the Red Sea. He would then, as Firdausí says, have Misr (Egypt) on his left hand, Barbar on his right, and the sea between him and his objective Hámávarán (Yaman), which confronted him across it. The matter has become confused from the fact that Firdausí had just stated that the people of Misr and Shám (Syria) had rebelled against Kai Káús, and therefore Hámávarán has been assumed to mean Syria. We may add that the two historians Tabarí and Ma??'údí both mention Kaí Káús' expedition to Yaman, and so far, though their accounts differ considerably from Firdausí's, support Professor Darmesteter's elucidation of this episode.80
The matter has been further confused by Firdausi's use of the word “Zirih” in this part of his work. The word is usually employed in connexion with the lakes and swamps of Sístán, which formally were much more extensive.80a
The word, however, is merely an older (Pahlaví) form of the modern Persian “daryá,” a sea, lake, or river. It has come, however, to be regarded as a proper name, and such an expression as “the sea of Zirih” is not only tautological but distinctly misleading. We translate “Zirih” sea. The expedition of Kai Káús looks like an attempt to capture an ancient trade-route.
The marriage of Kai Káús with the daughter of the king of Hámávarán is the cause of serious trouble later on, as will appear in Part IV.
The reference to Syria and a certain similarity of circumstance suggest that in the account of the treacherous capture of Kai Káús by the king of Hámávarán we have a distorted historical reminiscence of the overthrow of Antiochus Sidetes in the early spring of B.C. 128 or 129. Mithridates I., in the course of a reign of thirty-eight years (B.C. 174-136), had extended the narrow bounds of the Parthian kingdom both eastward and westward, to the Hindu Kush and to the Euphrates respectively. Westward the increase had taken place at the expense of the Seleucid kingdom of Syria. The successor of Mithridates—Phraates II.—made no attempt to enlarge his empire, but the king of Syria—Antiochus Sidetes— took the first opportunity to attempt to recover the provinces of which he had been deprived by Mithridates. He led a large and splendidly equipped host into Babylonia and thrice defeated Phraates II., who, though worsted, was not conquered, and still maintained himself with an army in the country. The three great cities of Babylon, Seleucia, and ??esiphon, however, fell into the hands of the Syrians. Winter came on, and Antiochus Sidetes, resolved to maintain his advantage, distributed his forces throughout the cities and towns of Babylonia with the intention of renewing operations in the spring. The Syrian troops with their motley entourage of camp-followers, cooks, actors, etc., soon made themselves intolerable to the natives among and upon whom they were quartered. An understanding was entered into with Phraates II., who promised to be at hand with his army, and at a given signal the Syrian invaders, who were thoroughly enjoying themselves after their campaign and had been kept wholly ignorant of the impending danger, were attacked throughout Babylonia, and either massacred or taken captive. Antiochus Sidetes himself perished, his son Seleucus was taken prisoner and his niece as well, whom Phraates II, married.81
§§ 4 and 7. In the account of the invasion of Írán by the Arabs during the captivity of Kai Káús in Hámávarán, and their defeat by Afrásiyáb, we seem to have a reference to the invasions and conflicts that were actually going on during the period when the Zandavasta was being compiled or reconstructed, i.e. during the third century after the Christian era.81a
In the Zandavasta we read: “We sacrifice unto the awful kingly Glory, made by Mazda. … It was that Glory that Thraétaona bore with him when Azi Daháka was killed; that Glory that Frangrasyan, the Turanian, bore when the wicked Zainigau was killed.”81b
In the greater Bundahish we read: “There was a fiend called Zinígáv who had poison in his eye: he had come from the country of the Arabs to reign on Iran-Shahr: any man he gazed at with his evil eye, he killed. The Iránians called Frásyáv into their country, he killed that Zinígáv.”81c
In the Bundahish Záínígáv is said to have been the grandfather of Zahhák,81d
the great protagonist of the Arab race in the Sháh??áma.81e
The Íránians, when they had to choose between the Túránians and the Atabs, preferred the former. Even the arch-enemy Afrásiyáb is allowed to have possessed for a while the divine Grace of kingship81f
when he opposed the common foe, the Arabs.81g
§§ 8-10. We are told in the Dínkard that Kai Káús built himself seven dwellings on Mount Alburz, one of gold, two of silver, two of steel, and two of crystal, that he warred against the divs of Mázandarán and fell into a trap which they laid to destroy him. To this end one of them undertook to tempt him by making him discontented with his earthly sovereignty and inducing him to aspire to that of the sky of the archangels. He yielded to the tempter. Consequently the divine Glory left him, and he was only saved from destruction by the fravashi, or immortal principle, of the as yet unborn Kai Khusrau. Néryósang, the messenger of Urmuzd, was about to smite Káús when the fravashi cried out: “Thou shouldst not smite him, O Néryósang … for if thou shouldst smite this man … there will not be afterwards … a thorough destroyer of the high priest of Túrán; because owing to this man will be born him whose name is Síyávakhsh, and owing to Síyávakhsh I shall be born, who am the Khúsrói … so that I may accomplish the destruction of his champions and troops, when I would occasion a distant flight of the sovereign of Túrán.” Accordingly Káús was released and became discreet.82
Underground dwellings, such as Kai Káús is said to have excavated for stabling purposes in connexion with his buildings, are very numerous in northern Írán.82a
The reader will note that in § 9 we have Iblís where we should expect Áhriman, showing that this story came to Firdausí through the Arabia.82b
§§ 11-14. In the story of the Fight of the Seven Warriors with which this part concludes we have an account of a border-foray of the Chevy Chase order. More than seven Íránian warriors, however, are mentioned.
And ancient bard of rustic lineage
That afterward Káús resolved to make
A progress through his kingdom. From Írán
He journeyed to Túrán and Chín, and after
Passed to Makrán, and thence down to the sea
In state; men's waists knew neither belt nor buckle.
The chiefs all paid their tribute and their dues,
The Ox took care not to provoke the Lion.
Thence to Barbar they went—a brilliant throng
With crown and diadem, intent on conquest.
The monarch of Barbar prepared for war,
And matters changed their hue. A host came forth
And stayed the revels of the great king's troops,
The elephants were hidden by the dust,
Men saw not hand or rein. The hosts encountered
Like mighty waves. Gúdarz beholding this
Took from the saddle-bow his mighty mace,
With javelins and with breast plate-piercing arrows,
Closed with and brake the centre of the foe.
Behind him charged the Sháh, thou wouldst have
said:—
“There is not left a cavalier or spearman
Within Barbar.” The elders of the country,
On seeing that the blast of war had passed,
Came to Káús, heart-broken, to seek peace,
And said: “We are thy slaves and bow our necks
To tribute; we will pay in gold and jewels
Instead of drachms, and earn thy treasurer's praise.”
Káús received them graciously and taught them
New laws and ways. Anon the sound of bells
And cymbals rose with shouts and clarion-blare,
The people when they heard about the Sháh
Came forth to him and proffered fealty,
While all the great men went to welcome him,
And laid a heavy tribute on themselves.
When men performed his will with due submission
He and his host passed by and hurt them not.
He led the army to Zábulistán
As Rustam's guests and tarried there a month
With hawk and cheetah, song and minstrelsy.
Ere long a bramble grew among the roses.
To meet with trials is the lot of all,
And he that mounteth must expect a fall.
The Arabs rose when all seemed going well.
A wealthy and aspiring man of parts
Set up his standard both in Misr and Shám,
The people turned away from Kai Káús,
Renouncing fealty, who when he heard
Bade the drums sound and marched forth from Nímrúz
Light-heartedly, the soldiers wrote his name
Upon their shields, their swords shook in their
scabbards.
Unnoticed by the foe he led his host
Down to the sea, built ships of war and transports
Beyond compute, embarked the host and sailed
A thousand leagues as thou wouldst count on land
Where three states met—Misr on his left; Barbar
Upon his right; 'twixt him and his objective
Hámávarán, which fronted him, the sea.
Each had a mighty host. News came to them:—
“Káús hath crossed the water with his troops.”
The three conferred, their troops met at Barbar—
An army such that desert, sea, and mountain
Were all aweary of the horses' hoofs.
There was no room left for the ravening lion,
Or path for onager across the plains;
The fish in water and the pard on rock,
The cloud and flying eagle in the air,
Sought passage, but what passage could there be
For wild things in a region so bested?
Now when Káús had disembarked his host
One saw not plain or mount. “The world is mailed,”
Thou wouldst have said, “each spearpoint is a star:”
What with the golden he??s and golden shields,
And glittering axes borne upon the shoulder,
Thou wouldst have said: “The earth is running gold,
And Indian scimitars are raining souls.”
The army's dust made heaven like sandarach,
The whole world turned as black as ebony,
The mountains shivered at the trumpets' blast,
And earth was bent beneath the horses' hoofs,
The din of tymbals would have made thee say:—
“Earth is one camp.”
When from the Íránian host
The trump and drum were heard Bahrám, Gurgín,
And Tús came forth and, where Gúdarz was stationed,
And steeped the heads of all their spears in bane.
The horsemen bent upon the saddlebow,
And shout and crash of battle-ax were heard;
Thou wouldst have said: “They quarry stone and iron,
Or dash down heaven to earth.” When at the centre
Káús advanced and host encountered host,
The eyes of men grew dim, vermilion rained
On lapislazuli, and thou hadst said:—
“The air is hailing and is planting tulips
Among the rocks.” The javelins' eyes flashed fire,
And earth became as 'twere a sea of blood.
The Íránians so dismayed the three allies
That end and middle were all one to them.
To drop the scimitar and massive mace,
Saw that the day was lost and sorrowing sought
Peace with the Sháh, agreeing to send tribute,
Steeds, implements of war, and thrones and crowns,
Provided that Káús, when all was paid,
Should go and keep his troops from harrying.
Káús replied: “I grant you all protection.
Seek not my crown and throne.”
He then marched back
Well pleased to camp, and from Hámávarán
An envoy brought him treasures, stores of arms,
With emeralds and other gems and said:—
“O just and mighty lord! we chiefs and commons
Are dust upon thy feet and slaves of thine.
Be joyful and triumphant all thy years,
And be the heads and fortunes of thy foes
O'erturned.”
He kissed the ground and bore to Tús
The store of gold and gems, who therewithal
Gave to each man a largess great or small.
Anon one said to Kai Káús: “This monarch
Hath in his bower a daughter goodlier
In stature than a cypress, crowned with musk,
With locks like lassos, dagger-shaped of tongue,
With charms, or like bright Sol in jocund spring.
None ??o should be the consort of the Sháh:
How good it were for him to mate this Moon!”
His heart was stirred, he answered: “It is well,
I will demand her from her sire; her beauty
Will well become my ladies' bower.”
He chose
A man of noble birth, shrewd, wise, and grave,
Bade him set forward to Hámávarán,
And said: “Dispose the king to favour me,
And charm his intellect with honied words.
Say thus to him: ‘The most redoubted chiefs
Throughout the world seek mine affinity
Because the sun is lighted from my crown,
Earth is the footing of mine ivory throne,
And one that sh??ltereth not beneath my shado
Hath little standing-room. I seek to be
Affined to thee and wash the face of peace.
Now I have heard that thou hast in thy bower
A daughter who is worthy of my state,
Immaculate in form and countenance,
Praised everywhere by all. Thou wilt obtain
The son of Kai Kubád as son-in-law,
For know that Sol thus favoureth thy cause.’”
This shrewd man with the ready tongue approached
The ruler of Hámávarán, adorned
His tongue with eloquence, his heart with zeal,
And furnished forth his lips with courtesies,
He gave that monarch greeting from Káús,
Then did the embassage, which pained the king,
Who thought: “Though he be king of kings and world-
lord
Victorious and obeyed, I have no daughter
But this, and she is dearer than sweet life;
Yet if I slight and spurn this messenger
To this affliction and repress my wrath.”
He answered that fair-spoken envoy thus:—
“He asketh of me much—two things unequalled
In preciousness; my wealth is my support,
My child my treasure; being robbed of her
My very heart is gone, yet I resign them
And yield to his request.”
He called Súdába,
And full of sorrow spake thus of Káús:—
“A courteous envoy hath arrived and brought
A letter from that mighty lord, who lacketh
Naught that is great and good, to this effect:—
He would deprive me, though I wish it not,
Of heart-repose and all my peace of mind.
What dost thou say now? What is thine own wish?
What is thy shrewd decision in this case?”
Súdába answered: “If this must be so
There is no need to sup on grief to-day.
Why grieve at union with the king of earth,
Who can deprive the mighty of their lands?
This is not grief but joy.”
The king perceived
That she was not unwilling, called the envoy,
And gave him the chief place. They made a compact,
Each with the rites and sanctions then obtaining.
Were busied for a week, and then brought forth
Two scores of litters and three hundred slaves,
A thousand each of camels, steeds, and mules,
Whose loads were of dínárs and of brocade,
And 'neath the haudahs hung embroidered trappings.
An escort was drawn up in long defile;
The New Moon graced one litter; following her
There came her marriage-portion, then the escort
Arrayed like Paradise; thou wouldst have said:—
“The heaven hath planted tulips in the earth!”
Now when that fair-faced troop and Heart's Delight
Approached the presence of Sháh Kai Káús
A New Moon issued from the haudah like
A new-thro??ed monarch robed. There musk and rose
Contrasted, and the earrings hung on civet;
Eyes languished, cheeks were ruby-red, and eyebrows
Sprang from a column like a silvern reed.
Káús in rapt amaze invoked God's name,
He called the hoary, shrewd, and wise archmages,
And having judged her fit to be his consort
He sanctioned his desires with legal rites.
“I knew thee at first sight,” he told his spouse,
“Fit to adorn mine Idols' golden house.”
Meanwhile the father grieved and sought a cure;
So eight days afterward he sent at dawn
A messenger to Kai Káús to say:—
“If now the Sháh will be mine honoured guest
The people of Hámávarán will be
Much honoured too when they behold his face.”
And being bad of heart and shrewd of wit,
Thought to retain his kingdom and his child,
And to escape all tribute. Now Súdába
Knew that her sire meant outrage at a feast,
And said to Kai Káús: “This is not well.
Thou must not be his guest, lest at the banquet
He make a brawl and get thee in his clutches.
All this ado is made on mine account,
And must result in thy discomfiture.”
He heeded not her words because he held
Her people feeble folk, and as a guest
Went with his warriors and mighty men.
The ruler of Hámávarán possessed
A pleasure-city, Sháha hight, and had
A residence therein. He decked the city
Throughout, and when the exalted Sháh arrived
The citizens all did him reverence,
Showered gems and saffron, mingled ambergris
With musk, and wove the sounds of harp and song
Like warp and woof. The monarch and his nobles
Descrying Sháh Káús approached on foot.
The palace from the gateway to the hall
Rained jewels, pearls, and gold; men poured them forth
From golden trays and sifted ambergris
And musk o'erhead. The king set up a throne
Of gold within the palace and Káús
Sat there in joy. He revelled for a week;
The place delighted and enchanted him.
The monarch of Hámávarán stood girded—
A subject in his presence day and night—
Till each felt safe, and all suspicion ceased;
But when the week was o'er their hosts were ready
And rose; the soldiers of Barbaristán
Had been apprised and were upon the march:
Such was the plot. Their advent joyed the king.
At night came sound of trumpet and assault
When no Íránian was prepared for fight.
Forthwith the forces of Hámávarán
Seized on Káús and Giv, Gúdarz and Tús,
Gurgín and Zanga son of Sháwarán,
And all the other famous warriors;
These they took captive and bound fast in bonds,
And throne and Grace were shent! What saith the man
Of insight and O sage?? what thinkest thou?
“Trust in another man is not secure
Without the tie of blood to make it sure,
And even one so bound to thee may turn
His face away and thine affection spurn.
If then another's love thou fain wouldst try
Prove it in weal and in adversity,
For if in rank thou art more high than he
Then envy will abate his love for thee.
The course of this pernicious world is so,
It lightly changeth with all winds that blow.”
Káús was ta'en; his over-confidence
Achieved the purpose of Hámávarán.
There was a mountain with a cloud-capt head,
Which God had lifted from the ocean-depths,
And on the mountain-top a fortress rose;
Thou wouldst have said: “The sky is in its lap.
'Twas thither that the monarch sent Káús,
Gív, and Gúdarz, and Tús; the other chiefs
He flung inside that stronghold with the Sháh
Bound. Over it a thousand warriors,
All swordsmen of renown, kept watch. He gave
The camp-enclosure of Káús to spoil,
Bestowing on his own chiefs crowns and purses.
Two files of ladies with a covered litter
Between them were deputed to escort
Súdába home and trampled on the tents.
Now when Súdába saw the ladies come
She rent her royal raiment and plucked out
Her musky tresses. With her filbert-nails
She stained her rosy checks the hue of blood,
Exclaiming thus: “Men that are men indeed
Hold in contempt such tricks and outrages.
Ye should have bound him on the day of battle
What time his robe was mail, his throne a steed,
And chieftains such as Gív, Gúdarz, and Tús
Rent with their drums your hearts. Ye make the
throne
Of gold an ambuscade and break your faith.”
She called the servants “dogs,” her jasmine-skin
Was smirched with blood, she did not spare her words.
She said: “I will not part with Kai Káús
Although he shall be hidden in the dust,
And, since he needs must drag his chain, behead me
All guiltless as I am.”
They told her sire,
Who was enraged and, eager for revenge,
Dispatched her to his fortress, broken-hearted
With blood-stained checks to join her husband there.
Thenceforth she sat in sorrow with the king
Engaged in tending him and comforting.
The ambitious Sháh being bound, his army made
Toward Írán, and having passed the sea
In ships and transports crossed the desert homeward.
When they arrived 'twas bruited through the realm:—
“The Cypress-tree is missing from the garden,
The throne of king of kings is overturned.”
Now when men saw the golden throne left void
They all desired the crown; upon each side
Great hosts of Turkmans and of desert-spearmen
Approached, cries rose from both sides of Írán,
And peace was changed to strife. Áfrásiyáb
Joined battle fiercely with the Árábian host;
They fought three months, and many heads were
lost
To win a crown, the Arabs were o'erthrown,
And all their gain was loss. The Turkman troops
O'er-ran the country and enslaved the folk.
It is the custom of this Wayside Inn
That greed should bring both travail and chagrin;
At last both good and evil pass away;
Death is the hunter and this world his prey.
The people said: “Our fortunes are o'erturned,
We are confronted with a grievous case.
Woe for Írán, for it is desolate,
The lair of pards and lions! 'Twas erewhile
All warrior-horsemen and the seat of kings,
But now a scene of hardship and of bale,
The dwelling-place of dragons sharp of claw!
Seek we a remedy and banish care.
One fed on leopards' milk shall succour us;
Dispatch we then a sage in state to Rustam.”
An archmage went to him and told the tidings,
And Rustam, deeply moved, wept tears of gall.
He answered: “I and mine are girt for vengeance.
First I will see about Káús, then sweep
The Turkman from Írán.”
He summoned troops,
Who flocked to him out of Zábul, Kábul,
And Hindústán. Throughout his wide domain
Arose the sound of trump and Indian bell.
The heart of Rustam raged like fire; he led
The army forth and like a storm-wind sped.
Then Rustam sent a wary messenger
To make his way to Kai Káús and say:—
“I am approaching with a mighty host
To fight the ruler of Hámávarán.
Be glad of heart and feed not on thy grief:
Behold! I am already in the land.”
Withal a man of name among the chiefs
Went to the ruler of Hámávarán,
And Rustam wrote to him in warlike terms
A letter all mace, scimitar, and fray:—
“Thou hast entrapped our Sháh and broken faith.
It is not manly to use guile in war,
Nor art thou dour like the bold crocodile
Although its heart be brimming with revenge.
Thou shalt escape the Dragon's evil clutch
If Sháh Káús be set at large; if not,
Prepare thyself to feel my weight in battle.
Thou surely must have heard the chieftains tell
Of how I fought against Mázandarán,
Fought with Púlád son of Ghundí and Bíd,
And smote the White Dív.”
As he read the letter
The king turned dizzy, and the world grew dark
Before his eyes. He answered: “Kai Káús
Shall never set foot on the plain, and when
Thou comest to Barbaristán, and all
Thy cavaliers have fled, a chain and pit
Are ready for thee too. If these delights
Allure thee I, according to our custom,
When Rustam heard
The answer, and the chieftains had assembled,
The trumpets sounded and he mounted Rakhsh.
He went by sea because the way by land
Was tedious, crossing to Hámávarán
With all his mighty host in ships and transports.
The troops were ready both to spoil and slay,
And banished all compunction from their hearts.
Now when the monarch of Hámávarán
Had news of vengeful Rustam and his host
He raged, the war-cry rose, and all the world
Seethed up in blood and pillage. Rustam donned
His armour, mounted on the snorting Rakhsh,
And shouldering his mace charged furiously.
Whenas the foemen saw his chest and arms,
And how he handled mace and battle-ax,
Thou wouldst have said: “They have no hearts at
all.”
They scattered in their fear of him, and thus
That great host fled back to Hámávarán.
The king in conclave summoned two young men
In order to dispatch them to Barbar
And Misr, like rushing wind, each with a letter
Penned in distress of heart with blood for ink,
And thus it ran: “Our realms confine, we share
In good and evil, and in fight and feast.
If ye will join with me I fear not Rustam
In fight; if not, the evil will extend,
And evil's hand extendeth on all sides.”
Whenas the letter reached the kings, announcing
That Rustam led his host across the desert,
They feared, bestirred themselves, arrayed their powers
And marched toward Hámávarán. The land
Became all hill, troops stretched from range to range,
And dust obscured the moon. Then Rustam sent
A warrior in haste to Sháh Káús
By stealth to say: “The monarchs of three realms
Approach to fight—brave men who shall not know
Their heads from feet when I encounter them;
But thou must not be injured by our strife
Since evil men are prone to outrages,
And e'en Barbar's throne would avail me not
If ill befell the person of the Sháh.”
Káús made answer: “Have no care for this;
The earth was not spread out for me alone,
And bane will mix with sweets and love with hate
While heaven turneth. God too is my friend,
My refuge, and my stronghold is His love.
Give Rakhsh the rein, and level to his ears
Thy lance's point; let not a foe remain
In arms or hiding.”
Matchless Rustam heard,
Armed, and went forth to battle, urged fleet Rakhsh
Along, and challenged all the world to fight,
Then stood alone and glared upon the foe,
But no one dared though Rustam waited long,
Until bright Sol was setting in the sea,
And dark-hued night was coming on apace.
Then that great elephantine chief returned,
And rested in his tent till night was passed;
The next day, when the sun grew bright again,
He came forth and arrayed his mighty men.
Next day they set the battle in array
And raised their standards. When the peerless Rustam
Had led his forces to the field, and viewed
The armies of three monarchs and three realms,
He thus harangued his noble warriors:—
“Keep your eyelashes well apart to-day,
And look to mane and forelock, steed and rein,
With both eyes on your spearpoints. Be the foe
A hundred or a hundred thousand horse
Their sum importeth not for, since the All-holy
Is our ally, I will bring down their heads
To dust.”
The monarchs on their side were seated
On elephants; their forces stretched two miles.
Barbaristán sent eight score elephants
All foaming like the Nile, Hámávarán
Contributed a hundred more—huge beasts—
And had a line of battle two miles long,
And thirdly was arrayed the power of Misr.
The atmosphere was darkened, earth was hidden,
And thou hadst said: “The world is all of iron,”
Or: “Mount Alburz hath donned a coat of mail.”
Behind the warriors' backs amid the dust
Waved flags of yellow, red, and violet;
The mountains echoed with the heroes' shouts,
And earth was weary of the tramp of steeds.
Then were the claws and hearts of lions rent,
And lusty eagles flung their plumes away,
The clouds of heaven melted in mid air,
For how could anything oppose such troops?
The Íránians ranked the host to right and left,
The heroes longed for battle and revenge.
Guráza held the right where was the baggage,
Upon the left was glorious Zawára—
A Dragon and a Lion in the fray—
While Rustam at the centre, with coiled lasso
Then sword and javelin gleamed; thou wouldst have
said:—
“Heaven hath sown earth with tulips,” and where
Rustam
Urged Rakhsh: “He spreadeth fire,” and: “All the
waste
Is as a Zam97
of blood, not like a field
Of elephantine Rustam's.” Helméd heads
Were smitten off, and plain and hollow strewn
With mail. The peerless hero urged on Rakhsh
And, deigning not to slaughter common folk,
Charged at the king of Shám and lassoed him
(Thou wouldst have said the lasso crushed his waist),
Then snatched him from the saddle, like a ball
Struck by a polo-stick, and flung him down.
Bahrám made fast his hands. They captured sixty
Of name and deluged plain and hill with blood.
The monarch of Barbar and forty chiefs
Were taken prisoners by Guráza's hand,
Beheld his soldiers slain on every side,
Beheld a troop of wounded warriors,
Another troop fast bound in heavy chains,
And valiant Rustam with his trenchant sword
Creating Doomsday on the battlefield,
He felt: “This day is one of bale,” and sent
To Rustam to ask quarter, promising
To give up Kai Káús and all the leaders,
And to restore the treasures, crowns, and jewels,
The tent-enclosures, thrones, and golden girdles,
And slaves. They made a peace and then disbanded
Three hosts. The monarch of Hámávarán
Went home and sat in council, sent, and fetched
Káús, and righted him. When Rustam thus
Released the Sháh with Gív, Tús, and Gúdarz,
He stored three kingdoms' arms, three monarchs' riches,
Among the treasures of Sháh Kai Káús,
Who then refulgent in his sun-like Grace
Prepared a gilded litter of brocade
Of Rúm, a crown of gems, a turquoise seat,
A sable housing decked with jewelry,
And placed them on a steed of easy pace,
Whose bridle was adorned with gold. He made
The litter out of fresh-cut aloe-wood
Inlaid with many divers kinds of gems,
And bade Súdába take her seat therein
Secluded like the sun beneath the earth,
Then led the army campward from the city
To reassert his claims upon Írán.
A hundred thousand horsemen from Barbar,
Hámávarán, and Misr assembled round him,
While his own host was fifteen thousand score
Of cavaliers on bardéd steeds and more.
Heard from Hámávarán of Rustam's doings
With Misr and with Barbar and with their kings,
They chose a wise and valiant man, well skilled
In horsemanship and javelin-play, and wrote
A royal letter couched in fitting terms.
“We are,” they said, “the servants of the Sháh
And only walk the world at his command;
So when a host came from the Kargasárs
To seek his throne our hearts were greatly grieved
At such presumption. When Afrásiyáb
Desired thy throne (may none such dream thereof)
We chiefs and swordsmen went forth to the field
To bitterness. On both sides many fell,
The age grew conversant with good and evil,
And now we hear of thee and that the Grace
Of king of kings reviveth. When thou comest
Back from Barbar we all will shoulder spears,
Fill earth from hill to hill with foemen's blood,
And make the world run like Jíhún.”
The envoy
Spurred forth toward Barbaristán, the Sháh
Received the letter couched in such fair terms,
Then wrote a letter to Afrásiyáb:—
“Quit thou Írán and limit thine ambition.
I wonder much at what I hear of thee.
Thou hast no wants, thou joyest in Túrán;
Then be not covetous or fondly grasping
At ill, which soon will bring thee lengthy toils.
A smaller matter is enough for thee—
To save thy skin. Dost know not that Írán
Is my seat, earth all mine? The boldest leopard
Will never dare to face the lion's claws.”
Who reached the monarch of Túrán and Chín
In haste, first kissed the ground and did obeisance,
And after compliments gave him the letter
Which, when Afrásiyáb had read it, filled
His head with vengeance and his heart with rage.
He answered: “Only miscreants talk thus.
In thy case, if Írán had satisfied thee
Thou hadst not coveted Hámávarán,
And now that I have won Írán, and raised
My fluttering flag, that broad champaign is mine
On two accounts; thou needs must hear the truth:
My grandsire and the son of Farídún;
And secondly—I cleared it of the Arabs
With my sword-arm. I with my scimitar
Behead the mountains and bring eagles down
From their dark cloud-tops.”
He equipped his troops,
And marched in person to oppose Káús,
Who, when he heard, arrayed a boundless host
And from Barbar marched to Arabia
To meet Afrásiyáb; the world was filled
With trump and tymbal-din, the sky was ebony,
And twang of bow a blood-wave swept the field,
While Rustam thundering from the centre broke
The foemen with one charge. On that field slept
The fortunes of Túrán. Afrásiyáb
Boiled, like fermenting must, without a fire,
And cried: “O gallant hearts of mine, my Lions,
And chosen chiefs! 'twas for a time like this
That ye were reared upon my breast, and now
Ye play at battle with mine Arab foes!
Be strong, renew the fight, and make the world
Too narrow for Káús, spear and cut down
His warriors, and behead his haughty chiefs.
As for this lion-hearted man of Sigz,100
Who maketh heaven redden with his sword,
Be bold and take him captive with your lassos.
Whoever on the battlefield shall bring him
Down from the pard-skin to the dust shall have
A realm, a parasol, my daughter's hand,
And be entitled ‘captain of the host;’
Him will I make the lord of all Írán,
And will exalt him to revolving heaven.”
Thereat the Turkmans rallied to the fight.
With massive maces in their hands the brave,
That rivers, plains, and hills were strewn with slain—
The more part of their host—and earth was puddled
With blood to clay. The Turkmans' fortune slept.
Afrásiyáb fled Rustam with the troops
From Ghúr; he sought for gain but gained a loss,
And seeing fortune's bent left them and stricken
Marched toward Túrán, his warriors mostly slain:
He searched the world for honey and found bane.
Káús arrived at Párs, the world began
An age of happiness. He acted justly,
Adorned the throne, and gave free scope to feasting;
He sent forth wise and noble paladins
With troops to all parts—Marv and Níshápúr,
Harát and Balkh. Then justice ruled the world;
The wolf eyed not the lamb. Such were his treasures,
His state, and Grace, that fairies, men, and dívs
Served him, all were his lieges, other kings
Were soldiers in his host. He gave the office
Of paladin of paladins to Rustam—
The author of his weal—and wearied out
The dívs to build himself on Mount Alburz
Two mansions, each ten lassos long, which they
Constructed at his bidding of hard stone.
He excavated stables in the rocks,
The columns were of stone with clamps of steel,
To ride or carry litters. He erected
A pleasure-house of crystal, studding it
With emeralds; a cupola of onyx
Brought from Yamán, and there installed archmages
That learning might not fail; two armouries
Of virgin silver and a golden palace
Twice sixty cubits high for his own seat
With turquoise traceries; he spared not jewels.
It was a dwelling after his own heart,
Where daily provand waxed continually.
There was no summertide or wintertide,
The air was ambergris, the rain was wine,
The days of springtide lasted all the year,
And roses there were like a maiden's blush,
The heart was far from sorrow, pain, and travail,
The dívs were harmless being spent with toil.
So good and just was he that fortune slept,
While drudging dívs beneath his rigour wept.
One dawn Iblís, unknown to Kai Káús.
Addressed the assembled dívs: “Our daily task
Is one of cruel labour for the Sháh.
To tempt him, soil his Grace, wean him from God,
And thus abate his tyranny.”
They heard
And mused. None answered, for they feared Káús.
At length a wicked dív arose and said:—
“Be mine this subtile task. I will pervert
His mind from God as none but I can do.”
Appearing as a youth of good address
And mien, he waited till the famous Sháh
Went hunting from Pahlav. The dív approached
With roses to present, then kissed the ground,
And said: “Thy glory and thy Grace are such
That heaven is thy fit home and earth thy slave;
Thou art the shepherd, nobles are the sheep.
One thing is lacking still—that thou shouldst leave
Thine everlasting mark upon the world.
How is it that the sun concealeth from thee
The secret of its rising and its setting?
What is the moon? What are the night and day,
And who is master of the turning sky?
Thou hast the earth and all thou didst desire;
Now take the heaven also in thy toils.”
The Sháh's heart strayed, he tarried not to think,
Convinced that turning heaven favoured him.
He knew not that the sky is ladderless,
Nor that, though stars be many, God but One,
How ever great the struggle and the stress.
The Maker hath no need of sky and earth;
'Twas for thy sake that both of them had birth.
The Sháh mused how to roam the air though wing-
less,
And often asked the wise: “How far is it
From earth to moon?”
The astrologers replied.
He chose a futile and perverse device:
He bade men scale the aeries while the eagles
Were sleeping, take a number of the young,
And keep a bird or two in every home.
He had those eaglets fed a year and more
With fowl, kabáb, and at some whiles with lamb.
When they were strong as lions and could each
Bear off a mountain-sheep he made a throne
Of aloe from Kumár103
with seats of gold.
He bound a lengthy spear at every corner,
Suspended a lamb's leg from every spear-head,
Brought four strong eagles, tied them to the throne,
And took his seat, a cup of wine before him.
The swift-winged eagles, ravenous for food,
Strove lustily to reach the flesh, and raising
The throne above earth's surface bore it cloudward.
Káús, as I have heard, essayed the sky
To outsoar angels, but another tale
Is that he rose in this way to assail
The heaven itself with his artillery.
The legend hath its other versions too;
None but the All-wise wotteth which is true.
Long flew the eagles, but they stopped at last,
They drooped their sweating wings and brought the
Sháh,
His spears, and throne down from the clouds to earth,
Alighting in a forest near Ámul.104
The world preserved him by a miracle,
But hid its secret purposes therein.
In answer to his prayers a duck104a
appeared,
For something must be had to eat and drink,
And if Sháh Kai Káús had perished there
Worldlord Khusrau had not been born from him.104b
Instead of sitting on his throne in might
His business then was penitence and travail.
He tarried in the wood in shame and grief
Imploring from Almighty God relief.
While thus the Sháh sought pardon his own host
Was searching for him everywhere. When Rustam
With Gív and Tús gat news of him they marched
With many troops and drums. Said old Gúdarz
To Rustam: “Since my mother suckled me
I have been conversant with crown and throne,
With kings and great men of unsleeping fortune,
But have not seen in all the world a man
'Midst high and low so self-willed as Káús.
He hath no wisdom, common sense, or Faith,
He is wrong-headed and wrong-hearted too.
Thou wouldest say: ‘He hath no brains, his thoughts
Are all awry.’ None of the great of yore
He is borne off his feet by every wind.”
Whenas the paladins arrived they rated
The Sháh. “The madhouse is thy proper place,”
Gúdarz said, “not the city. Thou surrenderest
Thy seat to foes and tellest none thy whims.
Thrice hast thou been in trouble, yet thy head
Is none the wiser! To Mázandarán
Thou led'st a host, and look what mischief followed!
Again, thou madest merry with a foe,
Yet thou—his idol—hadst to worship him!
And when none in the world save holy God
Remained to read the title of thy sword,
Since earth was conquered, thou must needs try heaven,
Although to soar one hand-breadth is revolt.
What bale hast thou encountered yet escaped!
Hereafter folk will tell of thee: ‘A Sháh
Went to the sky to see the sun and moon,
And count the stars.’ Now do as princes do
When prudent, pious, and beneficent—
Serve God and Him alone in weal and woe.”
Káús, abashed before those famous heroes,
Replied: “No harm can come of righteous judgment;
Thy words are righteous and thou hast convinced me.”
He wept gall, called on God, and took his seat
Distressed and penitent within the litter.
Still at his great offence, he quitted it
And entered not his palace out of shame,
But paced the dust in prayer before his God
For forty days. Thou wouldst have said: “His skin
Hath burst.” He prayed with tears of blood and
wailed
For Grace. Abashed to meet the mighty men
He ceased from banquetings and audiences,
Repented and did penance, giving largess,
And laid his cheek upon the darksome dust
In prayer to God who in a while forgave him.
His scattered troops assembled at his gate;
God's pardon gave him brightness; he was ware
That penance had borne fruit. He took his seat
Crowned on the throne of gold, gave to his troops
A donative, reformed the world, and grew
A Light to great and small; thou wouldst have said:—
“The world, now right is done, is all brocade,
The king of kings illumineth the throne.”
From every province those illustrious chiefs,
That had assumed the crown, renewed allegiance
And journeyed to his court, old times returned,
The monarch bathed his crown in love and faith,
The princes all attended as his slaves
Before him while he sat upon his throne
Of jewel-work with crown and ox-head mace.
And none hath such another to unfold.
Such were the actions of the worldlord king
And Rustam, chief of paladins! Whene'er
A king is just then all is well and fair;
He needeth not to cry for succouring.
Káús saw what was right, did what was right,
A breath of wind was this world in his sight.
To strive with death is but a bootless strife,
Such is the moral taught by Rustam's life.
A minstrel whom a lion once surprised—
A man of valiant heart—thus moralised:—
“If thou wouldst have the glory of the brave,
And wouldst imbrue in blood an Indian glave,
Seek not to spare thyself, for destiny
Will not be balked when 'tis the time to die.
If, being wise, thou keepest death in sight
The brave will count thee not a man of might.
Both Faith and wisdom sanction not this course,
But their good teaching is enslaved by force.”
Once at Nawand—that place of palaces—
The mighty hero gave a splendid feast
Where tall Barzín107
now beaconeth the way.
The great men of Írán— a famous band—
Tús and Gudárz son of Kishwád, Bahrám
And Gív—both noble men—Gurgín and Zanga,
Kharrád and Gustaham, that haughty swordsman
Barzín and, crown of all the band, Guráza,
Assembled at the place of banqueting,
Each with his meiny—an illustrious throng.
They spent a while at polo, wine, and hunting,
And, when they all were merry, Gív bemused
Said thus to Rustam: “O illustrious chief!
Come let us, if thou hast a mind to hunt,
Hide from the great Afrásiyáb's preserves
The sun's resplendent visage with the dust
Of horsemen, cheetahs, hawks, and our long spears.
There let us chase the rapid onager,
O'ercome the lion with the sword, and take
Boars with the spear and pheasants with the hawk
Throughout the livelong day. Come let us go
To make ourselves a memory in the world.”
Then Rustam answered: “Be it as thou wilt,
And prosper thou. Seek we Túrán at dawn
To hunt and harry in the deserts there.”
They all agreed and, when they rose next day,
Made ready eagerly, and setting forth
With cheetahs, hawks, and baggage bravely sped
Toward the Shahd?? across the hunting ground
Of great Afrásiyáb, on one side mountains,
A river on another side, Sarakhs
Upon the third, a wilderness in front.
Both deer and sheep flocked on the plain, which
soon
Was occupied by tents and huts. The deer
Were frighted by the company, the lions
No longer ravened there, birds as they flew
Knew something of the sport, for bird and beast
Lay everywhere in heaps, some killed, some wounded.
With laughter constantly upon their lips,
And having spent a sennight wine in hand
Were jovially bemused. The peerless Rustam
Came as the eighth day dawned with needful warn-ings:—
“Afrásiyáb no doubt hath heard of us
By this. We must not let that Áhriman
Take counsel with his famous officers,
Our cheetahs of their hunting-grounds. We need
An outpost on the road to bring us news,
However scanty, of our enemies;
We must not let them cut us off.”
The chief
Of all the offspring of Gívgán—Guráza—
Girt him for that emprise. With such a watchman
The ruses of the foe were nothing worth.
The others hunted in security.
At length Afrásiyáb gat news of them
At sleeping-time and called his veteran chiefs,
Discoursed to them at large of Rustam, told them
About the seven warriors—lion-like
And gallant cavaliers—and thus he said:—
“We must not dally, but devise a ruse,
And fall upon them unawares. If we
Can seize these seven warriors we shall straiten
The world for Kai Káús. We must go forth
As if to hunt and take them by surprise.”
He chose him thirty thousand famous swordsmen,
And slumber not but hasten night and day.”
They hastened forth along the desert-route.
And raised their necks for strife. Afrásiyáb
Dispatched meanwhile to cut those proud chiefs off
A countless host. As they drew near the chace,
Advancing quickly eager for revenge,
The outpost saw them like a darksome cloud,
While dust arose like lapislazuli
Wherein a flag appeared. Like rushing wind
He turned back shouting lustily and found
The matchless Rustam and his mates at wine,
Then cried: “O Rustam, lion-man! away
With these delights, for such a countless host
Appeareth that the plain and heights are one;
The standard of the fell Afrásiyáb
Is shining sun-like through the clouds of dust!”
Then Rustam, laughing heartily, replied:—
“Victorious fortune is with us, why fear
The Turkman king and dust of Turkman horse?
All told he is not five score thousand strong,
And were I by myself upon this plain,
What with my battle-ax, cuirass, and Rakhsh,
I should not trouble for Afrásiyáb
With all his mighty army and his dash;
Nay, any one of us upon the field
Would over-match the whole host of Túrán.
A battle-ground like this is all I need;
I want not I the Íránian warriors.
We have a band of seven cavaliers,
Such men of name, such swordsmen, that each one
Will match five hundred, two will match a thousand,
Skilled cavaliers and spearmen though they be.
The goblet with the vintage of Zábul.”
They poured the wine, and Rustam's spirits rose;
He took a bowl and toasted Kai Káús.
“I give the monarch of the age,” he said,
“And may he flourish ever soul and body,”
Then kissed the ground. Again he took the cup,
And cried: “This goblet do I drain to Tús.”
Thereat those princes of the worldlord rose
And prayed the paladin have them excused.
“We can no more,” they said; “Iblís himself
Could not drink fair with thee. Wine, one-blow mace,
And battlefield are thine and thine alone.”
Then from a golden cup the hero drank
Zawára's health in red wine of Zábul,
Whereat Zawára took the cup in hand,
And he too gave the health of Kai Káús,
Then quaffed the wine and kissed the face of earth,
While Rustam fell to praising him and said:—
“The brother doth the brother's cup essay!
A Lion he, the wine-cup is his prey.”
“O glory of the monarch and the chiefs!”
Said Gív to Rustam, “I will seize and hold
The bridge against the foe, so that our men
With strung bow
He ran toward the bridge but found the king
Across already leading on his van.
Then matchless Rustam donned his tiger-skin,
Bestrode his huge fell Elephant, and went
With roarings like a bellowing crocodile
Against the Turkman host. Thou wouldst have said
That when Afrásiyáb caught sight of Rustam
Mailed, with such hands and breast and arms and neck
And shouldered battle-axe, he swooned away.
Tús and Gúdarz, the wielders of the lance,
Gurgín and Gív, the gallant cavaliers,
Bahrám, Barzín, Farhád, and Zanga son
Of Sháwarán, the warriors, sprang up,
All with their spears and Indian swords in hand,
And ranged themselves like leopards for the combat.
Gív, like a lion that hath lost its prey,
Rushed to the fight and with his whirling mace
Laid many stalwart Turkman chieftains low.
Their fortune was averse, the fighting-men
Rushed forth to join the mellay. Rustam saw,
His charger firmly, came before the host
With lion's roars. Behind him was Gúdarz,
Son of Kíshwád, in mail with mace of steel.
When the Túránians' eyes were growing dim,
And Rustam's helm touched heaven, Afrásiyáb
“O full of wisdom and my loyal chieftain,
Most famous of the Lions of Túrán,
Aspiring and redoubted! ply thy reins,
Go forth with speed, and clear the field of foes.
Írán is thine if thou dost conquer; thou
Hast elephantine form and lion's claws.”
Pírán departed like a rushing wind,
Arrayed ten thousand Turkmans—gallant swordsmen
Of high renown—and came like fire on Rustam,
For victory or defeat both hung on him.
That hero foamed and, as thou wouldst have said,
Eclipsed the sun. He urged his charger on;
A roar arose as of the rising sea.
With shield o'er head and Indian sword in hand
He slew most of those chiefs. Afrásiyáb
Saw this from far and said thus to his nobles:—
“If they fight thus till dark there will not be
A single horseman left! Think we no more
Of battle. We came forth to fight the Íránians
And in our own conceit were lions then,
The plain, and feel a skulker from the fray!”
There was a warrior, by name Pílsam,
Of royal race and eager for renown,
His sire was glorious Wísa and his brother
Victorious Pírán. Both in Írán
And in Túrán he had no peer save Rustam.
On hearing what Afrásiyáb had said
He frowned with rage and, hasting to the king,
Cried in his eager longing for the fray:—
“A youthful warrior of this host am I.
What dust before me are the valiant Tús
And gallant Gív—that Lion known to fame—
Bahrám and Zanga son of Sháwarán,
And brave Guráza! At the king's command
I will go lion-like, smite off their heads,
O'ercloud their moon, and bring their crowns to dust.”
The king replied: “O famous warrior!
May victory be thine. Thou must prevail
And come back conquering and glorious.”
Charged the Íránian centre swift as dust,
And struck to right and left with sword and ax,
With lion-roars assailed Gurgín like wind,
And smote upon the head his foeman's charger,
Which came down headlong in its agony.
This Gustaham, the well approved in war,
Beheld and, swiftly rushing from his post,
Made like a raging lion for Pílsam,
And closing with that fiercely blazing Fire
Thrust at his foeman's belt; the buckles held;
The spear was shivered in his grasp; he flung
The haft away. Pílsam drew his keen sword,
Struck Gustaham with fury on the crest,
And sent his helmet rolling, leaving him
Stunned and disarmed. When Zanga on the right
Saw that fierce struggle he advanced to help,
And marked the evil plight of Gustaham.
Pílsam the Crocodile opposed the charge,
And, coming with an Indian sword in hand,
Struck at and clave the mail of Zanga's steed,
Which tumbled prone. The gallant warrior fell,
Took up, and knit his mail-skirt round his waist
To strive afoot against the great Pílsam
Amid the dust—the prey against the lion.
Dark clouds of dust rose from the scene of strife.
Gív, looking from the centre of the host
And seeing earth dark in the heroes' eyes,
Or like the savage lion in the fight.
He went to aid his comrades, and all four
Attacked Pílsam. That hero blenched no jot,
But rushed upon them plying sword and mace:
The four chiefs' hands were paralysed with wonder.
Pírán, beholding from the centre, saw
His brother's desperate case, rushed forth to help him,
And shouted furiously to Gív: “O noble!
It is no glory for you four to fight
One lion-like and famous warrior.”
He spake and charged amid a cloud of dust,
While Rustam too rushed bravely to the mellay
And smote with sword and axe and massive mace
The captains of the army of Túrán.
Then fled Pílsam, well knowing that that Dragon
Would have his life. The Íránian chiefs and warriors
Slew with the massive mace so many Turkmans
That corpses were piled up to reach the moon.
Afrásiyáb looked on and sighing cried:—
“Where is Alkús the warrior who wished
So oft to fight with Lions, in his cups
Would challenge Gív and plan a fight with Rustam?
Írán was all that he would talk of then,
Where are his ardour and his bluster now?”
And with his hands no doubt already bathed
In blood came to the centre to the king,
And cried aloud: “A man of war am I,
A Lion waiting. At the king's command
I will go forth to battle single-handed.”
The monarch said: “Choose captains from the host.”
More than a thousand valiant cavaliers
Went with him, carrying head-strewing lances,
And glittering like Jupiter and Venus.
Alkús as he approached the Íránians
Obscured the sun and moon in clouds of dust,
And when Zawára showed and challenged fight
Soon countered him and thought: “This should be
Rustam,”
Because he knew the seed of Narímán.
Zawára charged in lion-wise, but when
His lance snapped, he was frayed and drew his sword.
They veiled the world with dust. Both falchions
shivered.
They seized their maces. Quick as wind Alkús
Dealt such a blow as left Zawára senseless,
Who swooned and tumbled speechless from his saddle.
Alkús leaped down to take his foeman's head,
But Rustam seeing how his brother fared
Rushed like a fire toward him with a shout
Which shook Alkús' hand and dulled his sword.
“His heart showed through his skin.” Swift as the wind
He mounted, all forgetful of his manhood,
And Rustam said: “Thou hadst not measured then
The Lion's claws and therefore wast so brave.”
Then while Zawára, blood-stained, sorely wounded,
And battered by the mace, regained his saddle,
Alkús encountered Rustam and thereby
Robed his bark-saddle with a winding-sheet,
For thrusting with a spear at Rustam's girdle
He failed to pierce the mail, while Rustam thrust
A spear at his foe's head and dashed him down
As 'twere a mountain-crag to earth, his helmet
Drowned in his heart's blood, while both armies wondered.
Then fear came on the soldiers of Túrán,
While lion-like the seven warriors
Drew, and their gallant captains followed them
With massive maces laid upon their shoulders.
Afrásiyáb beheld them with amaze,
Turned, gazed upon his mighty men, and said:—
“The foe hath overcome you. Strive and battle
Like valiant pards.”
The soldiers heard his voice,
And fell on Rustam in a mass, while he
Charged them in fury with the seven warriors.
They drave and routed all the Turkman host,
Incarnadined the land with brave men's blood,
And laid so many low that what with corpses
And trunkless heads no vacant space was seen
For troops to fight on, wheel, or pass between.
And fled, like some dark cloud, pursued by Rustam,
Who thus exhorted Rakhsh: “My clever steed!
Lag not in battle-time, for I will slay
The monarch by thine aid and make the plain
Like coral with his blood.”
The fiery charger
Sped on so rapidly that thou hadst said:—
“His flanks have put forth wings!” Then Rustam
loosed
The lasso from the straps and aimed to catch
His foeman round the waist. The leathern noose
Fell on his helm; the Turkmans' leader snatched
His neck away; again the wind-foot steed
Beneath him sped like fire. Afrásiyáb
Escaped, but with wet cheeks and drouthy mouth,
While all his horsemen hurried after him
With spirits broken and with shattered arms.
He sped like wind and overpassed the stream
With stricken heart, his soldiers mostly slain:
He searched the world for honey and found poison.
Of treasures and of thrones, of crowns and girdles,
Of swords and jerkins, jewelry and helms,
Of noble steeds caparisoned with gold,
Of casques and scimitars with golden scabbards,
They gathered all and left the field, rejoicing,
They did not strip the slain or seek the fallen,
But went back to the hunting-ground and took
All kinds of steeds and equipage. They wrote
To Sháh Káús to tell of hunt and fight,
And how they had not lost a warrior;
Zawára had been thrown and that was all.
The paladin remained two weeks with mirth
Upon the scene of triumph, on the third
They sought the Sháh and saw his glorious crown.
The custom of our Wayside Inn is so,
One man hath quiet and another woe.
In this wise or in that time passeth by;
Why should a wise man feel anxiety?
The legends of this matter now are told,
Such as have reached us from the days of old.
The poet, after justifying in his prelude the ways of God to man in the matter of early death, tells how Rustam, in the course of one of his hunting expeditions to Túrán, marries Tahmína, the daughter of the king of Samangán. Rustam returns to Írán and is subsequently informed by Tahmína, who has remained at Samangán, that she has borne him a son—Suhráb. In after years Suhráb joins the host of Afrásiyáb in an invasion of Írán in the hope of meeting his father, who has been misled by Tahmína into forming a false estimate of their son's person and prowess. After a series of tragie mi??adventures father and son meet in single combat with fatal results.
The story of Suhráb is purely episodie, it might be omitted from the present reign without any apparent solution of continuity, and it is the only tale in the whole Sháhnáma that is at all familiar to the English reader. It has been translated into English at least twice, and has been retold according to Western ideas by Matthew Arnold, who has also followed the incorrect account of the episode given in Sir John Malcolm's ‘History of Persia,’ i. 27, note, where Tahmína is represented as having informed Rustam that she had given birth to a daughter. The improbability of the story may thus be lessened for the English reader, but to the Oriental eye it is the very improbability that makes it so impressive, as being an illustration of the working out of destiny which frustrates the best intentions, over-rides all obstacles, and makes mankind the puppets of its will. There is no trace of this story in Pahlaví literature as at present known to us.
§ 8. White Castle, known also as Mount Sipand,118
probably is identical with the Spe??tódáta of the Zandavasta118a
and the Spendyád mountain of the Bundahish.118b
It was the scene of the death of Narímán, Rustam's great-grandfather, of Rustam's second exploit,119
and of the defeat and death at the hands of Káran of the Túránian hero Bármán,119a
who, it is worth noting, has reappeared as if nothing had happened.119b
Similarly Kulbád reappears.119c
We are here introduced to a female warrior—Gurdáfríd—the only one in the poem, with the exception of Gurdya, the strong-minded and courageous sister of Bahrám Chubina. Gurdya, however, does not appear on the scene till the Sháhnáma is near its end. As for Gurdáfríd, she merely crosses Suhráb's path for a moment and nothing more is heard of her. This seems to show that the story of Suhráb was, like the rest of the Sháhnáma, based on existing materials. If Firdausí had invented the story himself it is almost inconceivable that he should not have made more of the relations between Suhráb and Gurdáfríd.119d
Thou hast heard others; let it be thy part
To hear this too: 'tis fraught with many a tear,
And Rustam will enrage thy gentle heart.
Now if a rude gust should arise and bear
A yet unripened orange to the dust,
Shall I describe this as unfair or fair,
Shall I pronounce it tyrannous or just?
Where is the evil if we all must die?
Why clamour and appeal from what is right?
Thy spirit wotteth not this mystery;
Beyond the Veil there is no path in sight.
We all must reach the msatiable door,
The greedy door that openeth twice for none;
Yet so a better place may be in store
For thee, and heaven's eternal rest be won.
Unless death swallowed all men up in turn
Earth would be trampled down by young and old;
If fire in giving light shall also burn
The matter is no marvel to behold,
For burn it will and that as readily
As offshoots issue from an ancient stem,
And whether young or old the victims be
Death's blast, like dread fire, hath no awe of them.
Should pleasure then a youthful mind engage
Since years are not the only cause of death,
Unless thou seek a passage in the Faith?
While if Salvation's light be in thy heart
Thy lot as servant is to hold thy peace;
Be busied in preparing to depart,
Let prayerful adoration never cease.
In serving God there is no mystery
Unless the Dív consorteth with thy soul;
Be fervent here below and thou shalt be
In perfect peace when thou hast reached thy goal.
The exploits of Suhráb I next shall tell,
And how the combat with his sire befell.
I tell what rustic bard and archimage
Told from the legends of a bygone age:—
One morn in dudgeon Rustam rose to hunt,
Girt him, filled up his quiver, mounted Rakhsh,
And hied him to the marches of Túrán,
A savage Lion prowling after prey.
When he drew near the marches and beheld
The plain well stocked with onager, he flushed
Rose-like and smiled, then urging on his steed
He dropped much game with arrow, mace, and lasso.
He lit a fire with sticks, dry grass, and thorns,
Chose out a tree to serve him for a spit,
A feather's weight to him! He tore the meat,
When roasted, from the bones and sucked the marrow,
Drank of a neighbouring stream and wooed repose,
While Rakhsh careered and grazed along the mead.
Some Turkman horsemen chanced upon the plain
And marked the tracks of Rakhsh. These they pursued
Beside the stream, observed him in the pasture,
Surrounded him, and with their royal lassos
Essayed to take him. Rakhsh perceiving this
Raged like a mighty lion. Lashing out
He laid two Turkmans low and with his teeth
Tore off another's head. Thus three were slain,
And still the head of Rakhsh escaped the noose;
At length the others threw from every side
Their lassos, caught him round the neck and took him,
Then walked him to the city, all desirous
To have a share in him.
When Rustam woke
From pleasant sleep and needed docile Rakhsh
He looked about the mead but found him not,
Whereat in dudgeon and astound he hurried
Toward Samangán. “Now whither shall I trudge,”
He said, ‘to 'scape my dark soul's shame, or how,
Thus armed with quiver, mace, helm, scimitar,
And tiger-skin cuirass, shall I o'erpass
How will the Turkmans say: ‘Who stole his Rakhsh?
Thus matchless Rustam slept his life away!’
Now must I plod all helpless and forlorn;
Still let me arm, I yet may trace him out.”
Thus with a weary, aching heart he went
In evil case and much discouragement.
When Rustam drew near Samangán the king
And nobles heard: “The Crown-bestower cometh
Afoot for Rakhsh escaped him in the chace.”
The king's chief nobles, who wore crowns themselves,
Went forth to welcome Rustam, and all said:—
“Can this be Rustam or the rising sun?”
The monarch went to him afoot attended,
And asked: “Who dared to meet thee in the fight?
We of this city are thy friends and servants,
We and our goods are both at thy disposal,
The heads and lives most dear to us are thine.”
Then Rustam, seeing that the words were honest,
Replied: “In yonder meads my Rakhsh while ranging
Without a rein or halter strayed from me,
And I have traced him from the river-side
My thanks are thine besides the recompense
Of one that doth aright; should he be lost
I will behead no few among thy chiefs.”
The king made answer: “O exalted man!
None will presume to thwart thee. Come and be
My guest and be not wroth; all will be well.
Let us refresh our hearts with wine to-night
And keep them free from care, for wrath and passion
Advantage not while gentleness will draw
The snake out of its hole, and Rustam's Rakhsh—
A steed so known—will not continue hidden.
We will seek out thy Rakhsh and bring him quickly,
Thou doughty veteran!”
Rustam heard with joy,
And easy in his mind agreed to pay
A visit to the king who, greatly pleased,
Bestowed him in the palace and stood slave-like
Before him, then invited from the city
And army chiefs to entertain with Rustam,
And bade the cooks to spread the board. The guests
And minstrels strove to banish Rustam's gloom,
While black-eyed, rose-cheeked Idols of Taráz
Gave wine and feast and music greater charm.
At length bemused and drowsy Rustam went
To where the king had furnished for his guest
Musk and rose-water, and a place of rest.
There came mysterious whispers, Rustam's door
Was softly opened, and a slave who bare
A taper savouring of ambergris
Walked stately toward the drunken sleeper's couch.
Behind the slave there was a moon-faced girl
Sun-bright, all scent and hue, with arching eyebrows
And locks that hung in tresses lasso-like,
In stature like a lofty cypress-tree,
With checks carnelians of Yaman in colour
And mouth as straitened as a lover's heart.
All soul was she and keen of intellect,
Thou wouldst have said: “She is not of the earth.”
The lion-hearted Rustam marvelled at her
And calling on the Maker asked: “Thy name?
What seek'st thou midst the murk of night? Thy
will?”
She said: “Tahmína: and thou well mayst say
That mine affliction teareth me in twain.
Sole daughter of the king of Samangán,
And by descent half lion and half pard,
There is no mate for me among the kings,
Nor are there many like me under heaven.
No one hath seen me yet outside the bower,
No one hath ever heard me spoken of,
But many and many a story have I heard
Of thee from every one—just like romance!
How div and lion, pard and crocodile,
Thou fearest not, thou art so deft of hand!
How thou departest to Túrán by night
And roamest there unsleeping and alone,
Dost roast an onager to make a meal
And set air wailing with thy scimitar!
How at the sight of thee with mace in hand
The hearts of lions and the hides of pards
Are rent: How eagles seeing thy naked sword
Dare not to swoop upon their quarry, and how
Great lions bear the traces of thy lasso,
And clouds rain blood in terror of thy spear!
Such are the tales of thee that I have heard!
Oft have I bit my lips in wonderment
And longed to see thy shoulders, neck, and breast.
God hath ordained thy sojourn in this city,
And now if thou wilt have me I am thine—
I who was never seen by fowl or fish—
Because for one thing I adore thee so,
Have sacrificed my prudence to my passion,
And for another—haply God Almighty
May lay upon my breast a child of thine.
Oh: may he be like thee in might and manhood,
And heaven assign to him both Sol and Saturn!
Moreover I will bring back Rakhsh to thee
And put all Samangán beneath thy feet.”
The matchless Rustam heard her to the end.
He saw what beauty and intelligence
Were hers, and that she brought him news of Rakhsh.
Perceiving that the affair would turn out well
He bade an archimage—a man of worship—
Go and demand the maiden from her sire.
The king, that noble Cypress, was well pleased
To be affined to Rustam, and bestowed
The people all poured out their souls with joy
And called down blessings on the paladin:—
“May this New Moon prove fortunate to thee,
And be thy foes' heads plucked out by the roots.”
Night was not longsome while his mate was by,
But when the sun was bright he longed to throw
The musky lasso off. He wore an armlet—
A famous one. That gave he to Tahmína,
And said: “Keep this. If thou shalt bear a daughter
Then plait it in her hair, and choose a time
Propitious, and auspicious auguries;
While if the stars vouchsafe to thee a son
Bind round his arm this token of his father.
He will be like Sám son of Narímán
In stature and a Karímán125
in manhood
And character, and bring down soaring eagles.
The sun will scorch not him.”
He passed the night
In converse with his bride, and when the sun
In taking leave he clasped her to his breast
And showered kisses on her eyes and head,
But fair Tahmína turned in tears from him
To be the spouse of pain and misery.
The noble king of Samangán approached,
Inquired of Rustam how the night had sped,
And, having heard, gave him good news of Rakhsh,
News that rejoiced the crown-bestower's heart.
He came, caressed the steed, and saddled him,
Pleased both with glossy Rakhsh and with the king.
Then homeward to Zábulistán he went,
But no one heard him speak of this event.
Nine months passed and a moon-like babe was born;
Thou wouldst have said: “'Tis elephantine Rustam,”
Or else: “'Tis lion-Sám,” or “Narímán,”
And since the babe smiled and was bright of blee
Tahmína gave to him the name Suhráb.
He looked a year old in a month, his chest
Was like his sire's, at three he exercised
In arms, at five he had a lion-heart,
At ten none dared encounter him in fight.
He bluntly asked his mother once: “Now tell me,
Since none of my milk-fellows can compare
With me, and my head reacheth to the sky,
Of what stock am I and of what descent?
What shall I say when asked about my father?
Thou shalt not live unless thou answer me.”
His mother said: “Then listen and rejoice,
But be not rash. Thou art the son of Rustam,
The hero of the elephantine form,
The progeny of Zál the son of Sám,
And Narímán. Thy head out-toppeth heaven
Because thou comest of the famous stock,
For never since the Maker made the world
Hath there appeared a cavalier like Rustam,
Nor one like Sám the son of Narímán,
Whose head the heaven itself dared not to touch.”
She brought and showed a letter from his sire,
Three bright gems, and three purses filled with gold,
Sent to him by his father at his birth
With these words: “Guard these well, because thy sire
Hath sent them unto thee, O noble child!”
His mother said besides: “Afrásiyáb
Must not know aught hereof. He is the foe
Of Rustam and the troubler of Túrán.
May he ne'er seek revenge upon thyself
And slay the son in dudgeon at the sire.
Moreover, if thy father shall perceive
Of what a stamp thou art, so high and proud,
Then will he summon thee and rend my heart.”
Old chieftains, warriors in the past, recount
His deeds. What right hadst thou to hide that I
Come of such fighting stock? Now will I gather
A boundless host of Turkman warriors,
Drive from his throne Káús, will cut away
From Tús his foothold in Írán, and leave not
Gurgín, Gúdarz, and Gív, or Gustaham
Son of Naudar, or warrior Bahrám,
But give the treasure, throne, and crown to Rustam
Instead of Sháh Káús; then from Írán
March forth to take Afrásiyáb's own seat,
And raise my spearhead higher than the sun.
I will do lion's deeds and make thee mistress
Of all Írán. Since Rustam is the sire
And I the son none other shall be king.
When sun and moon are shining in the sky
Why should the stars set up their crowns on high?”
He said moreover: “Thou shalt see my prowess,
But I must have a charger swift of foot
With hoofs of steel flint-shattering, in strength
Like fish, and on the land like deer, to bear
My warrior-breast and neck, mine ax and mace:
I must be mounted to encounter foes.”
His mother's head rose o'er the shining sun
At hearing this. She bade the herdsman bring
His herds of horses for Suhráb to choose
A charger. So they gathered to the city
The herds that wandered over hill and desert,
And when some large-limbed, lusty steed appeared
Suhráb flung round its neck the leathern noose,
Then laid his hand upon the beast to prove it
And made it grovel. Thus his might broke down
Full many a noble steed; he could not find
One adequate, and grieved. At length a warrior
Approached the elephantine youth and said:—
“I have a colt—one of the breed of Rakhsh—
In strength a lion and as fleet as wind.
He is as 'twere a valley-treading mountain
And skimmeth like a bird along the waste.
In strength and swiftness he is like the sun:
None ever saw so fleet a roan. Beneath
The stamping of his hoofs the Bull-fish128
quaketh;
His leap is like the lightning; on the mountains
He goeth like the raven; on the water
Like fish and water-fowl; upon the desert
Like shaft from bow, pursuing and o'ertaking
The enemy.”
Suhráb laughed out for joy,
And when they brought to him that glossy charger
Then saddled it, and mounted. He appeared
Like Mount Bístún; his spear was pillar-like,
He said: “Since I have gotten such a steed
I must ride forth at once and turn the day
Of Kai Káús to gloom.”
He made him ready
To fight the Íránians, and a host assembled.
He then approached his grandsire, asking leave
To go, and help in going: “I am fain
To seek Írán and see my glorious sire.”
Thereat the king provided him with arms
Of every kind, thrones, diadems, and casques,
Steeds, camels, belts, gold, gems, and Rúman jerkins.
He marvelled at that youth of tender age
And freely gave a royal equipage.
Afrásiyáb had news: “Suhráb hath launched
His ship, a host hath gathered unto him.
Although his mouth still savoureth of milk
His mind is set on shaft and scimitar;
His sword will purge the earth, and now he seeketh
To fight Káús. He feareth none. Why more?
His prowess hath shown higher than his birth.”
They pleasured him, he laughed and showed his joy.
Then from the valiant captains of the host—
Those that were wielders of the massive mace—
He chose two chiefs; Húmán was one, the other
Bármán; no laggards they when Lions strove.
He gave to them twelve thousand valiant troops,
And said: “Be this your secret policy:
The father must not recognise his son
By any ties of instinct, love, or race;
So, when the twain encounter, in good sooth
The matchless Rustam will be put to it.
It may be that this lion-man will slay him.
Then will we press Káús, seize on Írán,
With Rustam gone, and settle with Suhráb
Some night by binding him in endless sleep;
While should he perish by his father's hand
That hero's heart will never cease to burn.”
Those two shrewd paladins went to Suhráb,
Preceded by a present from the king—
Ten steeds caparisoned, ten mules of burden,
A turquoise throne with ivory steps, a crown
Of amber tipped with pearls—and took a letter
Of adulation to the noble youth:—
“If thou shalt seize the Íránian throne the age
Írán, Túrán, and Samangán are one.
I send thee troops enough, sit on the throne
And don the crown. Túrán hath no such leaders
And brave hearts as Húmán and as Bármán,
Whom I dispatch to thee as guests, to be
At thy command, to fight, if thou wouldst fight,
And make the world strait to thine enemies.”
Now when Suhráb was ware of their approach
He girt his loins and with his grandsire went
Like wind to meet Húmán, rejoiced to see
Such troops. Húmán for his part was amazed
To see the neck and shoulders of Suhráb,
Then gave to him the letter of the king,
The gifts, the horses, and the mules of burden,
And with Bármán delivered the king's message,
Now when the atheling had read the letter
He beat the ?? and led forth the host,
Earth was all troops and clamour, neither lion
Nor crocodile could fight him. Thus he led
The host toward Írán, burned everywhere
The cultivated parts, and left all bare.
White Castle was a stronghold of Írán
A man of might and courage, mace and arrow—
For Gazhdaham was failing though still brave
And venturesome. His daughter,131
who was proud,
Renowned, and malapert, bore arms and fought
On horseback. As Suhráb approached, Hajír
Saw him and mounting on his steed like dust
Sped forth upon the field. Suhráb enraged,
And drawing forth the scimitar of fight,
Rushed from the host as 'twere a blast and cried:—
“O fool to throw thy life away and come
Alone! Sit tight and firmly grasp thy reins.
What are thy name and lineage? She that bare
Hajír replied:—
“Enough! I need no help in fighting thee.
Hajír am I, a warrior and chieftain.
I will take off thy head to send the Sháh
And leave the vultures to consume thy body.”
Suhráb laughed out and charged; both hurled their
spears
Too fast for eyes to follow. Brave Suhráb,
Strong as an elephant, came on like fire
Upon his moving mountain of a steed.
Hajír thrust at his waist; the spearpoint glanced,
Suhráb the Lion drove the weapon back,
Struck with the butt his f??e's waist lustily,
And threw him like a boulder to the earth,
As though the matter were not worth a thought,
Astound in heart and soul. Suhráb dismounted,
Sat on his foeman's breast, and had in mind
To cut his head off, but Hajír with effort
Turned on his right side and entreated quarter.
Suhráb accorded it, well satisfied,
Gave him some cautions, made him fast in bonds,
And sent him to Húmán. Those in the hold
On hearing what had chanced cried mournfully:—
“Hajír is lost among the enemy!”
When she whose sire was Gazhdaham had heard:—
In her distress, and heaved a deep cold sigh.
A woman like some valiant cavalier
Was she and ever famous in the fight.
Her name was Gurdáfríd, and none as yet
Had seen her match. Hajír's discomfiture
So shamed her that her tulip-checks became
Like red chrysanthemums.132
Time pressed, she armed,
Concealed her tresses underneath her mail,
Secured her Rúman casque upon her head,
And came down, like a lion, from the hold
With girded waist upon a wind-foot steed.
She sped like dust and cried in thunder-tones:—
“What are these troops and who commandeth them?
What lusty Crocodile is there among you
To match himself with me in single combat?”
None volunteered until Suhráb beheld her.
He bit his lips and laughed. “Again,” said he,
“An onager hath come within the toils
Of him that hath both strength and scimitar.”
He armed like wind, put on a helm of Chín,
And rushed out to encounter Gurdáfríd,
Who when she saw him strung her bow up, drew it,
And broadened out her breast. No bird had found
A passage through her shafts; she showered them
Upon Suhráb and wheeled to left and right.
He saw and was abashed, waxed wroth and charged,
His shield above his head. Thus pressed she hung
Pranced to the clouds, couched at Suhráb her lance,
And plied her reins with fury. He too shook
His reins and urged his charger on like lightning,
Fierce as a leopard, at his doughty foe.
He thrust a deadly dart with all his strength,
Struck Gurdáfríd upon the belt and rent
Her coat of mail, but even as she reeled
She drew her sword and clave the dart asunder,
Regained her seat and sent the dust-clouds flying;
But liking not such fighting turned and fled.
He urged his dragon-steed, and he too made
In wrath day dark with dust. He pressed upon her
With loud cries, jostled her, and snatched her helm.
Her hair escaped, her face shone like the sun.
He said: “It is a girl! Her head of hair
Is worthy of a crown. If such a girl,”
He said amazed, “come from the Íránian host
Upon the field, good sooth their cavaliers
Will send dust cloudward on the day of battle!”
He loosed his coiled up lasso from the straps
And caught her round the waist, then said to her:—
“Why seekest thou the fray, O moon-faced maid?
Within my toils. Thou wilt not 'scape my clutch,
So struggle not.”
She saw no other course,
So showed her face and said: “O warrior,
Midst warriors a lion! two hosts watch
Our prowess with the mace and scimitar,
And now that I have shown my face and hair
The troops will say: ‘He sent the dust-clouds flying
And all to fight a girl!’ 'Twill be disgrace
To persevere in such a fight as this.
Chiefs should be wise, so let us keep it dark
And save thee from reproach on mine account.
Our troops and stronghold are at thy command,
There is no need to fight, the castle, treasure,
And castellan are thine when thou shalt please.”
She showed her face, her smiles displayed the pearls
Within her jujube-lips, a garden she
In Paradise; no villager e'er set
So tall a cypress. She had eyes like deer's,
With arching eyebrows, and thou wouldst have
said:—
“She bloometh ever.”
“Keep thy word,” said he,
“For thou hast seen me on the day of battle.
Trust not yon castle-wall, it is not higher
Than heaven, and my mace will bring it down,
While no foe's lance will ever reach my neck.”
And Gazhdaham himself came to the gate.
They opened it and Gurdáfríd came in
Both bruised and bound. They shut it and lamented
For her and for Hajír. Then Gazhdaham
Approached with chiefs and troops, and said to
her:—
“Brave-hearted lion-smiter! we were troubled
On thine account. Thy fighting and address
Have not disgraced us, and no foe hath harmed
Thy life, thank God!”
Then laughing much she went
Upon the ramparts to observe the foe,
Beheld Suhráb still mounted, and exclaimed:—
“O warrior of Túrán! why take such pains?
Be off with you and give up battlefields.”
Suhráb replied: “O fair of face! I swear
By crown and throne and sun and moon to raze
These ramparts to the ground and capture thee,
Thou minx! Thou wilt repent thy foolish words
When thou art writhing in thy helplessness.
Where is thy promise?”
But she laughed and mocked him:—
“The Turkmans win no helpmates from Írán,
And thou hast failed with me, but never mind!
Thou art no Turkman who art so commended
Among the great, and with such strength and limbs
Art peerless midst the paladins! However,
An army from Túrán,’ he will march forth
With Rustam whom ye cannot stand against.
And all thy host will perish. What mishap
Will then descend upon thy head I know not.
But woe is me that such a neck and shoulder
Should disappear within the maw of pards!
So do not trust too much those arms of thine
Or else the stupid ox will graze beside thee.
'Twere best to issue orders for retreat.”
Suhráb, who thought the hold his own, was shamed.
He gave to pillage all the land and crops
Around the walls, then for a moment washed
The evil hand, and said: “Our time for action
Is not to-day; our hands are stayed from fight.
At daybreak we will raise dust from these walls
And carry war's alarms inside the place.”
With that he turned about his charger's rein
And took the way to his own camp again.
Now when Suhráb had gone old Gazhdaham
Called for a scribe to write to Kai Káús,
Then hurried off a speedy messenger
And, having praised the Sháh, reported thus:—
“A mighty host of valiant warriors
Attacketh us, led by a paladin,
Whose years do not exceed twice seven at most,
In stature taller than a lofty cypress,
And in his aspect like the shining sun.
His breast is lion-like, his mien is stately.
I have not looked on such a hand and mace
His Indian scimitar it shameth him
To fight mere seas and mountains. Rattling thunder
Is no match for his voice, or for his arm
Our trenchant sword. No peer within Írán
Or in Túrán hath he. This chief is named
Suhráb, and feareth not dív, elephant,
Or lion; thou mayst say: ‘'Tis surely Rustam,
At least some hero sprung from Narímán!’
The brave Hajír rode out to challenge him,
But, as I saw, no longer kept his seat
Than while a warrior might wink an ??ye,
Or seent go up a nostril to the brain.
Suhráb unhorsed him to his great amazement.
He is not hurt, and they have spared his life,
But he is sorry and hath got his skinful
Of anguish. Many Turkman cavaliers
Have I beheld, but never heard of one
With such a seat. God grant he grapple not
With one of us between the battle-lines;
I would have none, e'en though a Mount of flint,
Meet him upon the plain. The earth would pity
That Mount if he should charge it in the fight,
And if the Sháh shall stop to breathe, march forth
No host, and set no ambuscade, consider
The Glory of Írán as gone, the world
As panic-stricken by this warrior's sword-point,
Since he is Strength itself he will despoil us,
And none can grapple with him hand to hand,
Thou wouldest say, ‘is Sám the cavalier.’
We cannot fight this eager warrior
With such a mace grip, and dexterity.
Know that the fortune of our warriors noddeth,
And that his greatness reacheth to the sky.
To-night we pack the baggage and withdraw,
For if we tarry we shall make no fight,
To say no more; these walls will not withstand
One at whose rush a lion turneth laggard.”
The letter sealed he called a messenger,
And said: “Be out of sight of them by dawn,”
And having sent the letter on its way
Prepared to follow it without delay.
Whenas the sun rose o'er the mountain-heights
The soldiers of Túrán girt up their loins,
And spear in hand Suhráb the chief bestrode
His swift-paced charger, purposing to capture
The garrison and bind them like a flock;
But having, roaring like a lion, forced
The gates, he saw no man of name within,
For in the night the garrison had fled
With Gazhdaham, because beneath the hold
There was a way not wotted by the foe.
Or otherwise came to Suhráb as bidden,
And sought by every means to save their lives.
He looked for Gurdáfríd but found her not.
His heart was fain for love and union with her.
“Woe's me!” he thought, “the bright Moon is be-clouded!”
He called the captains of the host to counsel—
Gurgín, Bahrám, and brave Farhád—and read
Aloud to them the news about Suhráb.
He said in private: “This will cost us time,
What shall we do, and what will cure this smart?
Who in Írán can fight him?”
All agreed
That Gív should go to Rustam at Zábul
To say: “The throne of empire is in danger,”
And summon him to take the field for war,
Because the Íránians looked to him for shelter.
A scribe as they discussed was sitting by
In that the case was one of urgency.
The Sháh then bade indite to famous Rustam
A letter, and began by praising him:—
“Be thy heart prudent and thy spirit bright.
Know that a Turkman chieftain with his host
Hath come and is beleaguering White Castle.
He is a brave, heroic paladin,
In form an elephant, in heart a lion.
None in Írán can fight him; thou alone,
That art so good at need, canst dim his lustre,
Thou heart and back-bone of the Íránian chiefs,
Who hast the claws and might of lions! Thou
Didst take the country of Mázandarán,
And in Hámávarán undo our bonds.
Mars grilleth. Indigo is not so dark
As dust-clouds raised by Rakhsh; no elephant
Can match thee in the fight; thou lassoest lions;
Thy spear-point seatheth mountains. In all ills
Thou art the shelter of Írán. The warriors
Through thee exalt their helms. A grievous matter
Confronteth us; I ache to think thereof.
The warriors in counsel read a letter
From Gazhdaham and were agreed that Gív
Should bear thee this account of good and ill.
Now when thou readest this by day or night
Ope not thy lips for words, and if thou have
A posy in thy hand stay not to smell it,
But act with promptitude and show thy face,
Because unless thou march forth from Zábul
With wary horsemen and shalt raise the war-cry,
To judge by that which Gazhdaham hath told
None will confront this warrior.”
This sealed
The Sháh gave swift as wind to gallant Gív,
And said: “Be instant, ply thy fleet steed's rein.
Nor sleep, within Zábul; if thou arrive
By night return next day. Thus say to him:—
‘A war is imminent, and in thine absence
We cannot hold the foe of small account.’”
Gív took it and sped night and day like wind,
No rest, no sleep, no water, and no food,
Until Zál heard the cry: “A cavalier
Approacheth from Írán as swift as dust.”
The matchless Rustam met him with the troops
And nobles wearing helmets. When they met,
Gív and the warriors great and small dismounted,
And Rustam too who asked news of the Sháh,
And of Írán. They went thence to his palace
To rest awhile. Gív told his errand, gave
The letter, spake much of Suhráb, delivered
His other tidings and the presents sent.
When Rustam heard and read he laughed amazed,
And said: “A horseman hath appeared like Sám!
Now from our people this would not be strange,
But from the Turkmans 'tis incredible.
None sayeth, and I know not, whence he is.
The daughter of the king of Samangán
Bare me a son but he is still a child.
The noble boy at present wott??th not
Of warfare, of attack, and self-defence.
I sent his mother gold and precious stones
‘The darling is not growing very fast,
But quaffeth wine with lips that savour milk.’
No doubt he will be eager soon for war,
And then his onslaught will be lion-like;
He will lay low the head of many a horseman;
But as for what thou sayest, O paladin!
‘He came to fight us, vanquished brave Hajír,
And bound him with the lasso head and foot!’
The Lion's whelp, though grown both brave and
doughty,
Could not do that. Come, go we to Zál's palace,
Rejoicing, then consider plans and who
This lucky Turkman paladin may be.”
They sought the ancestral hall and stayed awhile
To Rustam, praising him and saying: “Here,
And chief of paladins! may crown and throne
Be bright to thee who art the crown's adornment,
Thou favourite of fortune! Sháh Káús
Said thus: ‘Sleep not within Zábulistán.
If thou arrive by night return next day,
For God forbid that war should press on us.’
Now, O exalted and most glorious chief!
Let us depart in all haste to Írán.”
But Rustam answered: “There is naught to fear,
For everything will end in dust at last.
Abide we here to-day in merriment
Naught recking of Káús and of the chiefs.
One day will we remain to breathe ourselves
And put some liquor to our thirsty lips;
Thereafter we will hasten to the Sháh
And show the heroes of Írán the way
In case bright fortune be not yet awake.
At all events the matter is a trifle,
The rising sea will quench the fiercest flame.
E'en from afar my flag will fray his heart
Amid a feast. How can he be like Rustam—
The master of the scimitar and mace—
Or Sám the hardy, brave, and circumspect?
He will not prove so eager for the fray.
We need not take such matters seriously.”
They took the wine in hand and grew bemused
With drinking to the monarch and to Zál.
Next morning Rustam though crop-sick made ready
To start, but tarrying through drunkenness
Gave orders to the cooks to spread a feast.
The banquet done they held a drinking-bout
And called for wine and harp and minstrelsy.
And on the third day brought out wine at dawn,
Forgetful of Káús. Upon the fourth
Gív, ready to depart, said thus to Rustam:—
“Káús is rash and hasty; to his mind
This is no trifle. He was vexed and anxious,
And would not eat or slumber or repose.
By thus delaying in Zábulistán
We place him in a strait; he will be wroth
And in his headstrong humour seek revenge.”
But Rustam answered: “Give it not a thought,
For none will chafe at us.”
He gave command
To saddle Rakhsh and blow the brazen trumpets.
The horsemen of Zábul came at the call
In mail—a mighty army. He therein
Installed Zawára as chief paladin.
Tús and Gúdarz son of Kishwád met Rustam
One day's march from the court. Both he and they
Alighted and saluted heartily.
They reached the court all loyalty and mirth,
But, when they did obeisance, Kai Káús
And bare him like a lion of the wood,
First stormed at Gív, then wholly lost to shame
Proceeded: “Who is Rustam that he thus
Should disobey me and break fealty?
Had I a sword I would smite off his head
As 'twere an orange. Seize him! Gibbet him
Alive, and name him not to me again.”
Gív's heart was pained; he cried: “Wilt thou lay
hand
On Rustam thus?”
But upon this the Sháh
Raged at them both, so that all present marvelled.
He bade Tús: “Go and hang them both alive,”
Arose himself, and flamed like fire from reeds,
While Tús drew near and seized the hand of Rustam,
To all the warriors' wonder, purposing
To lead him forth and to beguile his wrath;
But Rustam furious with Káús replied:—
“Indulge not such a fire within thy breast.
Thy deeds grow worse and worse! Thou art not fit
For sovereignty. Hang for thyself you Turkman
Alive, then rage and scorn thine enemies.
Mázandarán, Sagsár, Hámávarán,
Rúm, Misr, and Chín are all my charger's thralls,
My sword and arrows have transfixed their livers.
In vengeance?”
In his wrath he struck the hand
Of Tús, thou wouldst have said: “An elephant
Hath struck him!” Tús fell headlong to the ground
While Rustam passed him by with angry mien,
Went out, and mounted Rakhsh in wrath, exclaiming:—
“I conquer lions and distribute crowns,
And who is Sháh Káús when I am angry,
Or Tús that he should lay a hand on me?
My might and my successes are from God,
Not from the Sháh or host. Earth is my slave
And Rakhsh my throne, a mace my signet-ring,
A helm my crown; my mates are sparth and spearhead,
My two arms and my heart my Sháh. I lighten
Night with my sword and scatter heads in battle.
Why doth he vex me? I am not his slave
But God's. The warriors called me to be Sháh,
But I refused the throne of sovereignty
And looked to custom, law, and precedent.
Do I deserve thy words? Art thou my patron?
Mine was the throne. I set Kubád thereon.
What care I for Káús, his wrath and bluster?
If I had not fetched Kai Kubád myself,
When he had fallen into low estate,
And brought him to Írán from Mount Alburz,
Thou hadst not belt or vengeful scimitar,
Or might and majesty entitling thee
To speak a word to Zál the son of Sám.”
Will come and leave not either great or small;
So make shift, all of you! to save your lives,
And let discretion be your remedy.
Ye will not see me more within Írán:
The land is yours and mine the vulture's wing.”
He smote his steed and left them while his skin
Split, thou hadst said, with rage. The nobles' hearts
Were troubled; they were sheep, he was their shepherd.
“Here,” said they to Gúdarz, “is work for thee;
Thine is the hand to make the broken whole;
Thy words no doubt will influence the Sháh.
Go then to this insensate, speak to him,
Ply him with patient and persuasive speech:
Perchance thou mayst restore our fallen fortune.”
Then all those warrior-nobles sat in conclave—
Gív and Gúdarz and lion-like Bahrám,
Ruhhám and brave Gurgín. They said: “The Sháh
Regardeth not the feelings of the great.
Since Rustam, who is chief of paladins,
First saved Káús none else hath succoured him
In all his straits and dangers. When the dívs
Bound in Mázandarán the Sháh and us
What toil and hardship Rustam underwent
On his account, and rent the fierce dívs' reins,
Then set the Sháh upon the throne and summoned
The mighty men to do him reverence!
Another time too when our sovereign's feet
Wore heavy fetters in Hámávarán
What monarchs Rustam slaughtered for his sake
And never turned away but brought Káús
Home to his throne, and did obeisance to him!
Then we must flee just when at such a crisis
We should take action.”
Thereupon Gúdarz
Made haste to go before the Sháh and said
Thus: “What hath Rustam done that thou shouldst
send
The dust up from Írán to-day? Art thou
Forgetful of Hámávarán, forgetful
Of what the dívs did in Mázandarán,
That thou sayst: ‘Put him living on the gibbet?’
Vain words become not Sháhs. When he hath gone,
And that great host and wolf-like paladin
Have come, whom hast thou left to take the field
And strew the dark dust o'er him? Gazhdaham
By sight or hearsay knoweth all thy warriors,
Yet saith: ‘Ne'er let a cavalier propose
To fight Suhráb. Small wisdom 'twere for any,
Though brave as Rustam, to encounter him.’
Kings should be wise, for haste and wrath avail not.”
The Sháh, perceiving that Gúdarz spake justly,
Repented of his folly and replied:—
“Thy rede is right; the old give best advice.
Induce him to forget my hastiness,
Assure him that my favour is restored,
And bring him hither to illume my soul.”
Gúdarz went after Rustam with all speed,
Attended by the leaders of the host.
They gathered round him and saluted saying:—
“Live happy evermore, be all the world
Beneath thy feet, and mayst thou sit for ever
Upon the throne. Thou knowest that Káús
Is brainless and no picker of his words
When angered, but regretteth them anon,
And groweth reconciled through sheer good nature.
If Rustam be aggrieved against the Sháh
The Íránians have done naught to drive him hence
And hide his glorious face. The Sháh moreover
Is sorry for those words of his and gnaweth
His hand's back in chagrin.”
The hero said:—
“I need not anything of Kai Káús.
A saddle is my throne, a casque my crown,
My mail my raiment and my purpose death.
What is Káús to me? A pinch of dust.
Why should I fear or tremble at his wrath?
Do I deserve such unbecoming words
From one that I released from bonds and led
To crown and throne? Once in Mázandarán
I fought against the dívs, and once I fought
The monarch of Hámávarán and freed
Káús in his foe's grip from bonds and woe.
I fear but holy God.”
As soon as Rustam
Had had his fill of speech Gúdarz rejoined:—
“The Sháh and famous warriors suspect
That thou art frightened at this Turkman chief.
They say in private: ‘Gazhdaham was right,
Our fields and fells will know us now no more,
For sithens Rustam is afraid of fighting
'Tis not for thee and me to tarry here.’
I noticed that the Sháh's ill will and wrath
Made hue and cry at court, and all men spake
About the brave Suhráb. Eclipse not thou
Thy high fame in the world by this withdrawal,
And further, since a hostile host is near,
Dim not this crown and throne so wantonly,
For we have been insulted by Túrán,
And none whose Faith is pure approveth that.”
The matchless hero all amazed replied:—
“I would not live a coward, I would tear
My soul out first. I flee, as well thou knowest,
Because the monarch scorned me, not from fight.”
He shrank from that reproach, retraced his steps,
And came to Sháh Káús, who seeing him
Arose and thus excused what had occurred:—
“My temper is by nature choleric,
And trees must grow as God hath planted them.
Through this new, unexpected foe my heart
Was faint as a new moon. I sought a cure
But having wronged thee, elephantine chief!
I sorrowed and my mouth was filled with dust.”
Then Rustam answered him: “The world is thine.
We are thy subjects, thine is to command.
I am a liege, if worthy of the name,
Before thy gate to do thy will. Thou art
The Sháh, the lord of earth; I am thy slave.”
Káús replied: “O paladin! be bright
Of mind for evermore. To-day we hold
A banquet and to-morrow think of battle.”
He had a royal pleasure-house made ready;
Its hall was like a garden in the spring.
They called the chiefs and scattered gems for joy.
Half through the night they revelled and their talk
Was of the doings of the mighty men.
They drank till hearts and eyes were dazed with
wine,
And all became bemused, returning home
While tedious night was traversing the dome.
When Sol had pierced night's pitch-hued cloak and
come
To bind the drums upon the elephants.
He oped the treasury-door, gave out supplies,
Then called to horse and loaded up the baggage.
A hundred thousand cavaliers in mail
Went into camp, and as the army marched
Heaven darkened with the chargers' dust. The tents
And tent-enclosures stretched two miles, and earth
Was clad with elephants and horses' shoes:
The sky grew dark as indigo, earth turned
To ebony, the drum-roll shook the plain.
The army marched, the sun's bright visage gloomed,
And double-pointed javelin and dart
Flashed like a flame through dust as through a veil.
What with the spears and flags of divers fashion,
The golden bucklers and the golden boots,
Thou wouldst have said: “There came an ebon cloud
Which showered sandarac.” The world discerned not
Between the night and day, and thou hadst said
That neither sky nor Pleiades existed.
Thus marched the army, hiding soil and rock,
Until it neared the portal of the stronghold.
An outcry from the lookout warned Suhráb:—
“A host hath come.” He mounted to the walls
To view it and then showed it to Húmán,
Who, when he saw so great a multitude
Approaching, was afraid and held his breath.
Suhráb the hero said: “Relieve thy heart
Of care, thou wilt not see in this vast host
A single warrior or massive mace
Meet me upon the field though sun and moon
Be on their side. The men and arms abound,
Yet know I nothing of the leaders' names!
Will I make all the desert like a sea.”
Descending, light of heart and unconcerned,
He joined the revels of the revellers,
And recked not of the war.
The Íránians
Set up the camp-enclosure of the Sháh
Before the castle on the open plain;
Men, tentage, and enclosures covered hill
And wilderness till naught was left to fill.
At sunset, when night's skirt trailed o'er the day,
Came Rustam girded and intent on war
Before the Sháh, and said: “Let me go forth
Without my belt and helmet. I will mark
Who this new worldlord is, who are the chiefs,
And who is in command.”
Káús replied:—
“The very work for thee, and mayst thou prosper
Both soul and body. God watch o'er thee ever,
And o'er thy heart's desire and loyal purpose.”
Assuming Turkman garb he reached by stealth
The hold and heard the Turkmans' shouts and clamour.
The gallant hero made his way inside,
As 'twere a lion after antelopes,
And saw and marked the chieftains one and all,
Joy mantling in his visage like a rose.
Now when Suhráb was going to the wars
For once he had seen Rustam at a feast.
His father was the king of Samangán,
His nephew glorious Suhráb. She said:—
“O ardent warrior! be this youth's comrade
That when the hero cometh to Írán
And meeteth with the monarch of the brave,
And when the hosts encounter in the fight,
Thou mayest show my darling son his father.”
Now as Suhráb appeared to Rustam's eyes
Enthroned amid the feast with Zhanda Razm
On one hand, with the valiant cavalier
Húmán and that illustrious Lion Bármán
Upon the other, thou hadst said that he
Filled all the throne and seemed a verdant cypress.
His arms were like a camel's thighs, his breast
Was like a lion's and his visage ruddy.
A hundred valiant warriors sat round,
All young, illustrious, and lion-like,
While fifty slaves with bracelets on their arms
Before the heart-delighting lofty throne
Invoked by turns a blessing on his mien.
His stature, sword, and signet-ring. As Rustam
Crouched at a distance watching, Zhanda Razm
Went out for some occasion that he had,
Perceived a warrior like a lofty cypress,
To whom there was no peer among the troops,
And seizing on him roughly questioned him
With sharpness, saying: “Who art thou? Speak out!
Come to the light and let me see thy face.”
A sudden buffet from the fist of Rustam
Fell on his neck; he yielded up the ghost.
There Zhanda Razm lay—a corpse; for him
The day of fighting and of feast was over.
Suhráb continued long in expectation,
But Zhanda Razm the Lion came not back.
At length the youth began to ask for him
Because his room was empty. Some went out,
From banquet and from battle, and returned
With clamour, and with sorrow in their hearts.
They told Suhráb that Zhanda Razm was dead.
The youth sprang up and went to him like smoke,
Accompanied by servants, lights, and minstrels,
Beheld him lying dead and stood astound,
Then called his gallant warriors and said:—
“Ye men of wisdom and ye valiant chiefs!
Ye must not rest to-night but whet your spears,
Because a wolf hath come among the flock
And found the dogs and shepherds off their guard.
Among the mighty he hath seized one ram
And cast him thus in scorn, but with God's help,
When my bay trampleth earth, I will unstrap
My lasso in revenge for Zhanda Razm.”
He took his seat again and called the nobles.
“Though Zhanda Razm's place beside my throne
Is void,” he said, “I have not done with feasting.”
As Rustam was returning to the Sháh,
Gív, who was outpost-guard, saw him approach,
Drew, roared out like a maddened elephant,
And with his shield above his head showed fight;
But Rustam knowing who the outpost was
Who knew his voice, advanced afoot and said:—
“Where hast thou been afoot and in the dark,
Thou battle-loving chieftain?”
Rustam told
His enterprise and what a lion-man
He had destroyed, while Gív applauded, saying:—
“May charger, mace, and saddle ne'er lack thee.”
Then Rustam going to the Sháh informed him
About the Turkmans and their banqueting,
About Suhráb, his stature and his mien,
His arms and shoulders, chest and feet, and said:—
“This is no Turkman born; he is as tall
And upright as a cypress, with no peer
In either land; in short 'tis Sám himself.”
Then of the blow on Zhanda Razm's neck
He said: “He came not back to feast or fight.”
They talked and after called for harp and wine,
But all the night the troops were ranked in line.
Now when the sun held up its golden shield
Fate also raised its head upon the sky.
Suhráb put on his battle-mail and mounted
Upon a charger dark as indigo.
An Indian sword was slung across his breast,
And on his head he wore a royal helmet,
While from his saddle-straps his lasso hung
In sixty coils. His face was stern. He came
And choosing out an eminence surveyed
The army of Írán, bade call Hajír,
And said to him: “An arrow should be straight.
If thou wouldst ??scape mishap. Now answer truly,
Pervert not counsel nor prevaricate.
Wouldst thou be free and well esteemed by others?
Then tell me what I ask about Írán,
And swerve no tittle from the path of truth.
I will bestow on thee abundant treasure,
But if thou liest bonds and pit are thine.”
Hajír replied: “Whate'er the prince shall ask
I will reply according to my knowledge.
Why should I speak to thee deceitfully?
Thou shalt be witness to mine honest dealing:
I will not even think a guileful thought.
The best trade in the world is honesty,
The worst thought guile.”
Suhráb said: “I shall ask
At large about the chiefs, the Sháh, the folk,
And all the great men of the land as Gív,
Tús, and Gúdarz. Whatever I shall ask
About Bahrám, famed Rustam, and the rest,
Make answer to me as I question thee.
Yon many-hued enclosure of brocade
Encircling tents of leopard-skin; before it
A hundred mighty elephants are tethered;
There is a turquoise throne blue as the Nile,
A flag charged with a yellow sun, the staff
Crowned with a golden moon, the case of purple.
Who is the man thus stationed in the centre?”
Are elephants and lions.”
“On the right,”
Suhráb said, “there are many cavaliers
With elephants and baggagè. The enclosure
Is black, and round it troops are standing ranked
With tents past count; before it there are lions,
Behind it elephants, while in the front
There is a flag charged with an elephant,
And cavaliers in golden boots stand by.”
Hajír replied: “'Tis Tús son of Naudar:
His standard hath an elephant-device.”
Suhráb went on: “That red enclosure there,
Where many cavaliers are standing round,
The standard purple, the device a lion,
And in the centre there are sparkling jewels.
Behind it is a multitude of troops,
Who all bear lances and are clad in mail.
Who is he? Let me know the chieftain's name,
And bring not ruin on thyself by guile.”
He answered: “That belongeth to Gúdarz—
The glory of the Free—son of Kishwád,
A valiant general in war. He hath
Twice forty sons, all Elephants and Lions.
No elephant, no tiger of the plain,
No mountain-pard, would strive with him in fight.”
Suhráb went on: “As to yon green enclosure
In front whereof are stationed many troops,
While in the midst a splendid throne is set
With Káwa's flag before it. On the throne
A paladin is seated, one that hath
The Grace, the neck, and shoulders of a hero,
And seated thus is higher by a head
Than any of the people standing near.
In height; a lasso droopeth to its hoofs.
Whene'er the charger snorteth thou wouldst say:—
‘It is the raging sea??’ In front of him
Are many elephants in mail, and he
Is restless. I behold not in Írán
One of his height or such another charger.
There is a dragon, look! upon his standard,
And on the staff-top is a golden lion.”
Hajír thought: “If I tell this lion-man
The bearings of the elephantine hero,
Forthwith he will send up the dust from Rustam.
'Tis best to keep him dark and name him not.”
He answered: “An ally of ours from Chín
Hath lately joined the Sháh.”
Suhráb inquired
His name. Hajír replied: “I know it not,
For I was in this castle at the time.”
Suhráb was grieved to find no trace of Rustam,
And though his mother had described the bearings
He would not credit his own eyes. Again
He pressed Hajír to tell and soothe his heart,
But o'er his head was written otherwise—
A sentence never minished or enhanced.
Pitched that enclosure which is most apart,
Where many cavaliers and elephants
Are standing and the clarions are sounding?
Above it is a flag charged with a wolf;
The golden staff-head reacheth to the clouds;
Within there is a throne with slaves before it.”
He answered: “That is Gív son of Gúdarz,
He whom the chieftains call ‘the gallant Gív,’
The best and greatest of the family,
And captain o'er the more part of the host.
He is the noble son-in-law of Rustam,
And equalled but by few within Írán.”
Suhráb continued: “Where the shining sun
Is rising I perceive a white enclosure
All of brocade of Rúman make. Before it
More than a thousand cavaliers are ranged;
The footmen armed with double-headed spears
And bucklers there make up a boundless host.
Their leader sitteth on an ivory throne
Upon a seat of teak. The tent-enclosure
Is of brocade, and many slaves stand ranked.”
Hajír replied: “'Tis youthful Faríburz,
Son of the Sháh and crown of warriors.”
Suhráb said: “It is fitting, since he is
The Sháh's son and possessor of a crown.”
He asked: “Whose is that yellow tent-enclosure
In front whereof a banner fluttereth
With others yellow, red, and violet round it?
The charge upon the hindmost is a boar,
And on the lofty staff a silvern moon.”
Who draweth not the rein in fights with lions—
A prudent man descended from Gívgán,
Who never murmureth at pain or hardship.”
Suhráb thus sought for traces of his father:
Hajír was reticent and hid the truth.
The Almighty hath disposed the world. Wilt thou
Dispose it? Hath He ceased to superintend?
A fate not of thy choice is written now,
And what He causeth will be in the end.
If thou affectionest this Wayside Inn
'Twill yield thee poison, travail, and chagrin.
The noble hero asked Hajír again
About that one whom he so longed to see,
About that green enclosure and tall steed,
About that warrior and the twisted lasso.
At last Hajír said: “I must keep back naught.
If I tell not the name of him of Chín
It is because I know it not myself.”
Suhráb replied: “Thou doest much amiss,
Thou hast not mentioned Rustam, and that chief
Of paladins would show amid the host.
Thou saidst: ‘He is the champion, he that guardeth
All provinces and marches.’ When Káús
Is warring, with a mighty elephant
To bear his crown and throne, the paladin
Should lead his van what time the war-cry riseth.”
Hajír replied: “The lion-taking hero
Must be at present in Zábulistán,
For 'tis the time to feast among the roses.”
Suhráb rejoined: “Now answer this—the Sháh
Is bent on war and, while helmed chieftains gather
To give him aid, the paladin in chief
Is merry-making! Young and old would laugh
At such a tale. We made a pact to-day,
And though I love not words I will repeat it:—
Thy head shall be exalted everywhere;
I will unlock the secret treasuries
And leave thee not a want, but if thou keepest
This secret from me, making mystery
Where there is none, I will cut off thy head.
Consider now which course thou wilt adopt.
Know'st not the saying of the archimage
When speaking of some matter to the king?
‘A word unspoken is a jewel still
Uncut, still kept in bonds; but, once set free
From bondage and disablement, may fill
The bezel—priceless, glittering brilliantly.’”
Hajír responded: “When my lord the prince
Is weary of his signet, crown, and state,
Then let him seek a warrior in the world
Who overthroweth mighty elephants,
And with his anvil-breaking mace-head robbeth
Two hundred of existence at a blow;
For Rustam when opposed to any one
Will bring his head down from the sky to dust.
No elephant on earth is match for him,
His steed's dust is more black than indigo,
His body hath a hundred strong men's strength,
His head is taller than a lofty tree,
And when he rageth on the day of battle
What is a lion, elephant, or man
Within his grasp?”
“Gúdarz son of Kishwád hath evil luck
In that for all his puissance, wit, and prowess
He hath to call thee son. Where hast thou looked
On men of war or heard their chargers' tramp
That thou describest Rustam in such terms
And utterest his praise continually?
Thou fearest fire because the stream is calm,
But when it is in flood the fuming fire
Will soon be quenched, and when the sun shall draw
Its blazing sword night's head will go to sleep.”
Hajír unwitting thought: “If I declare
The lion-taker's bearings and inform
This Turkman with such hand and neck and seat,
He will arouse his warriors to fight
And urge along his elephantine steed.
He hath such strength and such a neck and shoulder
That Rustam will be slaughtered in his grasp.
Not one of all our warriors will come
To meet him face to face, and he will seize
The throne of Sháh Káús. An archmage said:—
‘It is a better thing with fame to go
From life than live and gratify the foe.’
If it be mine to perish by his hand
Day will not darken nor stream turn to blood.
Three score and sixteen sons—all lion-men—
Hath old Gúdarz beside myself, as Gív,
Who conquereth worlds and breaketh hosts, and is
In every place the leader of the folk,
Bahrám, Ruhhám the exalted, and Shídúsh
The lion-slaying warrior, and they all
Will show me kindness after I am dead,
And in revenge will slay our enemies;
Beloved—illustrious men and warriors—
Cease from Írán let me too be no more.
I mind a holy archimage's words:—
‘When cypress-roots appear the pheasant well
May hesitate at common grass to smell.’”
Then said he to Suhráb: “Why so much heat?
Thy questioning to me is all of Rustam.
Why must thou pick a quarrel with me thus
By asking foolish questions? Just because
I cannot give thee an account of him
Wilt thou behead me? Thou need'st no excuse
For shedding blood; show thy true colours then.
Thou wilt not crush the elephantine chief,
Or get him easily within thy clutches.
Refrain from seeking him in fight, for he
Will surely make the dust fly out of thee.”
Suhráb the chief of warriors, when he heard
These harsh words, turned his back upon Hajír,
And hid his face without reply, astounded
At that dark utterance; then from saddleback
He fiercely struck Hajír a blow back-handed,
Felled him, and went his way, mused much and long,
And made his preparations for the fight.
He girt him with the girdle of revenge,
Took from his princely head the golden crown,
Put on his mail and breastplate joyfully,
And set a Rúman helmet on his head.
That paladin, that binder of the Dív,
Took spear, bow, lasso, and his massive mace,
The blood was boiling in his veins with ardour.
He mounted on his rapid steed, sent up
Like some mad elephant upon the field.
He came forth bent on fight, he made the dust-
clouds
Fly to the moon, then charged the Sháh's enclosure
And made it totter with his spear, while all
The valiant chieftains fled like onagers
Before a lion's claws; not one had courage
To face such foot and stirrup, hand and rein,
Such arm and flashing spear. They met and said:
“Here is an elephantine hero for you—
One that we cannot look on unappalled!
Who is there bold enough to challenge him?”
Anon Suhráb the warrior raised his voice,
Assailing Sháh Káús with scornful words,
And thus he said: “O monarch of the Free!
What business hast thou on the battlefield?
Why dost thou bear the name of Kai Káús
Who canst not stand where Lions fight together?
I wield my spear and all thy troops are cowed.
Upon the night that Zhanda Razm was slain
I swore a mighty oath while at the feast:—
‘I will not leave a spearman of Írán,
And I will hang Káús upon the gibbet
Alive.’ What mighty man hast thou to meet me?”
Made answer from Írán. Then bending down
He forced out seventy tent-pegs with his spear,
The tent-enclosure tumbled to the ground,
And everywhere the blast of clarions sounded.
Sháh Kai Káús exclaimed in his dismay:—
“O men of noble name and glorious race!
Let some one take the news to Rustam, saying:—
‘Our warriors' wits are ousted by this Turkman.
I have no cavalier to fight with him;
None of Írán is bold enough to go.’”
Tús bore the message and told Rustam all,
Who thus made answer: “Every other Sháh,
That called me suddenly, called me at times
To feast, at times to fight, but with Káús
I ne'er see aught excepting fight and travail!”
Then gazing from his tent he found that Gív,
Who had but just arrived, was saddling Rakhsh,
And that Gurgín was crying: “Quick! Make haste!”
Ruhhám was fastening the girth and mace,
And Tús had got in hand the horse's mail.
Each one was crying to another: “Quick!”
The matchless hero heard it from his tent
And thought: “This must be Áhriman's own fight!
So great a hubbub is not made for one.”
He put on his cuirass of tiger-skin,
Then girt a royal girdle round his loins,
And mounting Rakhsh set forth. He left Zawára
In charge of throne and troops, enjoining him:—
“Advance not and take no commands save mine.”
They bore his standard with him as he went
Intent on fight and angry. When he saw
The limbs and shoulders of Suhráb, his breast
As broad as that of valiant Sám, he said:—
Suhráb began to rub his hands, he turned
Back from the Íránian lines, and said to Rustam:—
“Come then; we mighty men require no help;
The fight between us will suffice, and yet
The field of battle is no place for thee;
Thou canst not bear one buffet from my fist.
Great stature hast thou, mighty limbs and neck,
But they are weak with age.”
Then Rustam, gazing
Upon that haughty one with such long stirrups,
And such a hand and shoulder, answered mildly:—
“Fair youth! the earth is hard and cold, the air
Is soft and warm. Old am I, but have seen
Full many a stricken field, and many a dív
Hath perished by my hand, yet saw I never
Myself o'ercome. Wait till we fight together;
If thou survivest fear no crocodile.
Both seas and mountains have beheld how I
Have striven with the famed chiefs of Túrán
In fight: the stars bear witness to my deeds.
My might hath laid the world beneath my feet,
And now my heart doth yearn in ruth for thee;
I would not take thy life. Thou wilt not leave
Behind a Turkman with such neck and shoulders.
I know no peer to thee e'en in Írán.”
When Rustam spake Suhráb's heart throbbed. He
answered:—
“One question will I put. Vouchsafe to tell me
And make me happy by thy fair reply.
I think that thou art Rustam, that thou art
Sprung from the noble race of Narímán.”
The other answered him: “I am not Rustam,
Not sprung from Sám the son of Narímán,
For Rustam is a paladin, while I
Am mean, not having throne and state and crown.”
Suhráb despaired, he had had hope before,
The face of day was bright to him no more.
Suhráb, still musing on his mother's words,
Went spear in hand. They chose a battle-ground
Where room was scant, and fought with javelins
Till points and whipping broke; next, wheeling left-ward,
Closed with their Indian scimitars and showered
Sparks from their blades, which shivered 'neath such
strokes
As might have heralded the Day of Doom;
Then took their massive maces and fought on
Until their weapons bent beneath the blows.
The chargers staggered and their bards dropped off;
The riders raged beneath their shivered mail;
Both were fordone and hand and arm both failed.
With bodies running sweat, with mouths dust-choked,
And tongues thirst-cracked, at length the champions
parted,
The sire in anguish and the son exhausted.
O world! thy doings are a mystery,
The broken and the whole both come from thee!
Love stirred in neither of these twain, no trace
Of wisdom was there, love showed not its face!
The fish in streams, wild asses on the plain,
And beasts of burden know their young again,
But toil and lust forbid a man to know
The difference between a child and foe!
A Crocodile fight thus. Compared with this
To fight the White Dív was an easy task:
To-day my heart despaireth through a man!
The hand of one who is unpractised yet,
No warrior and not named among the chiefs,
Hath made me weary of my life in sight
Of both the hosts!”
The chargers being rested,
The youthful hero and the man in years
Strung up their bows, but still the coats of mail,
The breastplates, and the tiger-skin cuirass
Received no injury from the arrow-points,
And then each hero, raging at his foe,
Seized on the other by the leathern belt.
Now Rustam, had he clutched a rock in battle,
E'en the Black Stone itself,163
had torn it out,
But when he seized the belt and would unhorse
Suhráb, the young man's waist felt not the tug,
And Rustam's hand was foiled. He quitted hold,
He marvelled at the prowess of his foe,
And then these lion-quellers, satiate
With battle, bruised, and wounded drew apart.
Suhráb again took from his saddle-bow
The massive mace, and gripping with his legs
Smote Rustam grievously upon the shoulder,
Who though he winced yet bravely bare the pain.
Suhráb laughed out and cried: “O cavalier!
Thou canst not bear the buffets of the brave.
Thy charger, one would say, is but an ass;
As for the rider both his hands are naught.
To play the youth when he is in his dotage.”
Each humbled by the other turned away.
They parted, troubled both in heart and mind.
Like leopard sighting prey the mighty Rustam
Went to attack the army of Túrán,
While brave Suhráb assailed the Íránian host
And gave his fleet steed rein. He charged the foe
And many a warrior perished by his hand.
Wolf-like he scattered small and great. The heart
Of Rustam boded ill. “Káús will suffer,”
He thought, “from this brave Turkman just arrived
With mail-clad breast and arms.”
He hasted back
To camp with anxious heart. There mid the host
He saw Suhráb—a lion mad for prey—
The ground about him tulip-hued with blood,
His spearpoint, hands, and mail all drenched with gore.
Then Rustam raging like a furious lion
Exclaimed: “Bloodthirsty Turkman: who of all
This host opposed thee? Why hast thou not kept
Thy hands for me instead of coming thus
Like wolf among a flock?”
Suhráb replied:—
“The army of Túrán is holding back
From strife, and doing nothing to provoke it,
When none sought battle and revenge on thee!”
“Light faileth,” Rustam said. “On its return
A throne and gibbet wait us on this plain.
For all the bright world yieldeth to the sword,
And if thine arms are so familiar
With scimitar and arrow never die!
Come we with vengeful swords at break of day
To learn the Maker's will, but now away!”
They parted and the air's face gloomed. Suhráb
Amazed the circling sphere. Thou wouldst have said:—
“Heaven fashioned him of war; he ceaseth not
A moment from the fray; his form is brazen,
His charger iron, and his spirit wondrous.”
Suhráb when night fell joined his troops. His loins
Were galled with battle but his breast was iron.
Thus spake he to Húmán: “This day the sun
Arose and filled the world with war and strife.
How fared ye with this gallant cavalier
Who hath a hero's heart and lion's claws?
What did he say and do? He proved my match!
How fared my troops with him? I hold him peerless,
Though old a Lion bent on war and strife.”
Just as we had made ready for the field
A warrior came and challenged us to combat,
Confronting all this mighty armament.
Thou wouldst have said: ‘He cometh fresh from wine
To venture all alone on such a struggle.’
He raised the dust of war on every side
And slaughtered many warriors of our camp,
Then turning round departed at full speed.”
Suhráb said: “He hath slain no man of mark
While I have slaughtered many Íránians,
And puddled with their blood the ground to clay,
While ye looked on. However, none opposed me;
'Twas well none did, for had a liou come
He would not have escaped my massive mace.
What is a tiger, pard, or mighty lion
Confronting me who with my spearpoint bring
Fire from the clouds? When warriors behold
My visage in its wrath their mail is shivered.
To-morrow morning ere it is high day
It will be seen which is the better man,
And by the Maker's name—the only God—
I will not leave a foe alive. Now spread we
The board with meat and wine, and cheer our hearts.”
When Rustam reached the host he questioned Giv:—
“What did Suhráb the daring warrior?”
He rode up to our centre spear in hand,
And raging; there he challenged Tús, who wolf-like
Came forth and mounted. When Suhráb beheld him
Advancing with his lance he roared as 'twere
A lion in its rage, and with bent mace
Struck Tús upon the breast a mighty blow
That made his helm fall off. Tús turned and fled.
Then many others fought but none prevailed,
For only Rustam can contend with him.
I kept the good old rule of one to one.
When no more single challengers went forth
We let him have the field all to himself,
Whereat he left the centre for the right
And flourished in his glory here and there.”
Now Rustam sorrowed at the words of Giv
And went to Sháh Káús, who seated him
Upon the throne. Then Rustam told the Sháh
About Suhráb, his stature, and his mien:—
“None ever saw one of his tender years
So brave and lion-like. In height he reacheth
The stars; the earth can not support his bulk;
His arms and thighs are camel-like and larger.
With sword and shaft, with lasso and with mace.
We proved each other lustily in all ways
Until at last I said: ‘Ere now have I
Plucked from the saddle many a warrior,’
And laying hold upon his leathern belt
I put the buckle to a mighty strain,
And fancied: ‘I shall raise him from his saddle
And hurl him like the rest to dust.’ But though
That chieftain would not rock upon his seat,
And so I quitted him, for it was late,
The night was very dark, there was no moon;
But we intend to meet again to-morrow
To wrestle. All I can I will, but know not
Which will prevail. Still we shall learn God's purpose,
For victory and conquest are from Him
Who is the Maker of the sun and moon.”
Then Kai Káús replied: “God rend our foes
In pieces! I will pray to Him to-night
For victory o'er this vile, malignant Turkman,
Pray that thy withered hopes may spring afresh,
And that thy fame may reach the sun.”
Then Rustam:—
“Thy Grace will speed thy liege's whole desire.”
He went depressed and vengeful to his camp.
To him Zawára came with downcast soul,
And said: “How fared the paladin to-day?”
But Rustam first would eat, then washed his heart
Of care and charged his brother, saying thus:—
“Be vigilant and cautious. When I go
At dawn to fight that Turkman warrior
Lead out mine army and bring forth my flag,
My tent when bright Sol riseth. If I prove
Victorious in the fight I shall not loiter
Upon the battlefield, while if the matter
Have other ending make no lamentation
And be not downcast. Let not any of you
Go on the field or prosecute the war,
But go hence to Zábulistán to Zál,
Console my mother for my God-sent fate,
And say to her: ‘Set not thy heart upon me,
And be not always mourning for my death.
No one abideth in this world for ever,
Heaven had no pretext left to spare me longer.
I have slain lions, pards, dívs, crocodiles
Enough, and razed full many a wall and stronghold,
While no man had the upper hand of me,
Though he that mounteth on his steed and chargeth
Is simply knocking at the door of death.
What though a man outlive a thousand years
One road and one event are for us all.
Bethink thee of Jamshíd the exalted Sháh,
And Tahmúras the Binder of the Dív.
There was no monarch like them here below,
And yet at last God took them. As the earth
Remained not theirs I too must pass away.’
When she hath been consoled thus say to Zál:—
‘Abandon not the monarch of the world,
Fight for him valiantly and do his bidding.
No one abideth in this world for ever.’”
They rested after half the night had gone
In talk about Suhráb and him alone.