Šāh-nāmah - The Šahnama of Firdausi, Volume 2

The bright sun shone. the raven night flew low,
Great Rustam donned his tiger-skin cuirass
And mounted on his fiery dragon-steed.
Two leagues divided host from host, and all
Stood ready-armed. The hero with a casque
Of iron on his head came on the field.
Suhráb on his side revelling with comrades
Had thus addressed Húmán: “That lion-man,
Who striveth with me, is as tall as I am
And hath a dauntless heart. He favoureth me
In shoulder, breast, and arm, and thou wouldst say
That some skilled workman laid us out by line.
His very feet and stirrups move my love
And make me blush, for I perceive in him
The marks whereof my mother spake. Moreover
My heart presageth that he must be Rustam,
For few resemble him. I may not challenge
My sire or lightly meet him in the combat.”

Suhráb replied:—

“Old man! if thou rejectest my proposals …!
I wished that thou shouldst die upon thy bed,
And that thy kin should tomb thy soulless corpse,
But I will end thee if it be God's will.”
They lighted, tied their chargers to a rock,
And cautiously advanced in mail and casque
With troubled hearts. They wrestled like two lions
Until their bodies ran with sweat and blood.
From sunrise till the shadows grew they strove
Until Suhráb, that maddened Elephant,
Reached out, up-leaping with a lion's spring,
Caught Rustam's girdle, tugged amain as though,
Thou wouldst have said, to rend the earth, and shouting
With rage and vengeance hurled him to the ground,
Raised him aloft and, having dashed him down,
Sat on his breast with visage, hand, and mouth
Besmirched with dust, as when a lion felleth
An onager, then drew a bright steel dagger

Thus he sought to 'scape

The Dragon's clutches and get off with life.
The brave youth hearkened to the old man's words.
In part through confidence, in part through fate,
In part no doubt through magnanimity,
Suhráb let Rustam go, turned toward the plain,
Pursued an antelope that crossed his path,
And utterly forgot his recent foe.
When he was far away Húmán came up
As swift as dust and asked about the fight.
He told Húmán what had been said and done,
Who cried: “Alas! young man! art thou indeed
So weary of thy life? Woe for thy breast,
Mien, stature, stirrups, and heroic feet!
The mighty Lion whom thou hadst ensnared
Thou hast let go and all is still to do.
Mark how he will entreat thee on the day
Of battle owing to thy senseless act.
A king¹⁷¹

once spake a proverb to the point:—
‘Despise not any foe however weak.’”
He took the very life out of Suhráb,
Who standing sorrowing and amazed replied:—
“Let us dismiss such fancies from our hearts,

God granted him his prayer,

The strength which once had waned now waxed in him.
He went back to the field perturbed and pale
While, like a maddened elephant, Suhráb,
With lasso on his arm and bow in hand,

They tied their steeds while fate malignantly
Revolved o'erhead, and when dark fate is wroth
Flint rocks become like wax. The two began
To wrestle, holding by their leathern belts.
As for Suhráb thou wouldst have said: “High heaven
Hath hampered him,” while Rustam reaching clutched
That warrior-leopard by the head and neck,
Bent down the body of the gallant youth,
Whose time was come and all whose strength was gone,

Then Rustam grew distraught,

The world turned black, his body failed; o'ercome
He sank upon the ground and swooned away;
Till coming to himself he cried in anguish:—
“Where is the proof that thou art Rustam's son?
May his name perish from among the great,
For I am Rustam! Be my name forgotten,
And may the son of Sám sit mourning me!”
He raved, his blood seethed, and with groans he

When Rustam loosed

The mail and saw the gem he rent his clothes,
And cried: “Oh! my brave son, approved by all
And slain by me!”

With dust upon his head

And streaming face he rent his locks until
His blood ran down.

“Nay, this is worse and worse,”

Suhráb said. “Wherefore weep? What will it profit
To slay thyself? What was to be hath been.”
When day declined and Rustam came not back
There went forth twenty trusty warriors
To learn the issue. Both the steeds were standing
Bemoiled with dust, but Rustam was not there.
The nobles, thinking that he had been slain,
Went to Káús in consternation saying:—
“The throne of majesty is void of Rustam!”

His words o'er-cast my day, and I despaired.
See who he is and let him not be harmed.

Zawára came

With breast and raiment rent and body wounded,
Whom Rustam told about his slaughtered son,
And added: “I repent me of my deed,
And have unmeasured retribution. I
Have slain my son now when my head is grey.
He is cut off both root and stem, his loins
Are pierced, and heaven will weep for him for ever.”
He sent and told Húmán: “The scimitar

Rustam seized

A dagger to behead himself, but weeping
Their own hearts' blood the chieftains hung on him.

Then to Gúdarz said Rustam: “Famous hero
Of ardent soul! bear for me to Káús
A message, tell him what hath chanced, and say
Thus: ‘With a dagger have I pierced the reins
Of my brave son. May Rustam's life be short!
If thou at all art mindful of my deeds
Let thy heart feel for me in my distress.
Of that elixir in thy treasury,
Which hath the power to make the wounded whole,
Send somewhat graciously to me forthwith,
Together with a cup of wine. My son,
By thy good fortune, may recover yet,
And stand like me a slave before thy throne.’”
The chieftain came like wind and gave the message.
The Sháh said: “Who hath lustre in my sight
Exceeding that of elephantine Rustam?
I do not wish him ill but honour him

Who in this wide world hath such neck and limbs
And Grace? How will he stand before my throne,
Or march beneath the banner of the Sháhs?
He gave me his abuse and took away
My credit with the troops. If his son liveth
A pinch of dust is all that I shall get.
Art thou of high rank and experience
And hast not heard the language of Suhráb:—
‘I will behead a thousand in Írán
And hang Káús alive upon the gibbet?’^178a

If he surviveth great and small will quake.
To cherish foes is to invite contempt.”
Thereat Gúdarz returned like smoke to Rustam,
And said: “The evil nature of the Sháh
Is like a colocynth in constant fruit.
He hath no equal in the world for harshness,
And never helpeth any one in trouble.

Then Rustam called for an embroidered robe
And, having laid the youth thereon, set off,
But as he went one overtook him, saying:—
“Suhráb hath passed from this wide world, and asketh
No more a palace of thee but a bier.”
The father started, sighed, and groaning closed
His eyes, then lighting swift as wind removed
His helm and scattered dust upon his head,
While all the great men also wept and wailed.
He cried in mournful tones: “O warrior-youth
Exalted and a paladin by birth!
The sun and moon, the breastplate and the helm,
The crown and throne, will never see thy peer.
Hath this that hath befallen me—to slay
My son in mine old age—befallen another?
My son—the offspring of the worldlord Sám
The cavalier, born of a noble dame!
I, that have now no peer in all the world
For valour, was a boy to him! Well might
My hands be lopped! May never seat be mine

He answered:—

“Though he is gone Húmán remaineth still
With other chieftains of Túrán and Chín.
Regard them not as foes but let Zawára,
God willing and the Sháh, conduct them hence.”
Káús replied: “Aspiring chief! thy face
Is saddened through this fight, and though our foes
Have harmed me much and sent smoke from Írán,
Yet through thy sorrow is my heart so sore
That I will think upon revenge no more.”

The Sháh marched homeward with the host, while
Rustam

Then Zál:—

“A strange event! His was a massive mace.
He was of note among the mightiest,
And none will bear his like.”

He spoke through tears;

His theme was all Suhráb. When Rustam reached

Again he brought the bier,

Whereon Suhráb the Lion lay, before
The gallant chiefs, and in his father's presence
Drew back the shroud. He showed the chiefs the corse,
And thou hadst said that heaven reeked with sorrow.
All that were present looked on helplessly,
All cheeks were livid, all robes rent, all hearts
Fulfilled with pain, all heads besmirched with dust.
The royal palace was one mighty bier,
And of that valiant Lion in his coffin

A cry rose from Túrán: “Suhráb hath fallen
Upon the battlefield!” The tidings reached
The king of Samangán, who rent his robes.

Said eloquent Bahrám:—

“Dote not upon the dead; thy proper care
Is for thine own departure to prepare,
Since here thou canst not stay. So dally not.
Thy father once gave up his place to thee,
And thou must give up thine. Such is our lot,
And 'tis a secret still, a mystery,
Nor wilt thou with thy dazed mind find a key.
To open that closed door may no man know.
Endeavour not therefor, else wilt thou throw
Life to the winds. Our summons to depart
Is from the God and Master of us all;
Then on this Wayside Inn set not thy heart;
The profit of such sojourn is but stuall.”

Now from this history my face I turn:
The tale of Siyáwush is my concern.

The poet, inspired by his theme and conscious of his genius, retells an ancient tale thus:—

Giv and Tús, while hunting, find and quarrel about a damsel. The matter is referred to the Sháh, who marries her himself. From this union springs Siyáwush, who is brought up by Rustam and afterward returns to his father's court, where Súdába, one of his father's wives, tempts him in vain and then accuses him falsely. He clears himself by ordeal and saves his accuser's own life, which had been adjudged forfeit for her wickedness. In time she is restored to favour, and Siyáwush, to escape her wiles, leads an army against Afrásiyáb, who, terrified by a dream, sues for peace. The terms granted by Siyáwush are rejected by the Sháh, and Siyáwush, his honour touched, goes over to Afrásiyáb, by whom he is well received and whose daughter Farangís he marries, having previously married Jaríra, the daughter of Pirán. He attains to great dignities, but incurs the envy of the king's brother, Garsíwaz, by whom he is done to death. His wife Farangís is protected by Pírán and gives birth to Kai Khusrau, with whose childhood the story ends.

Firdausí, as we may gather from his prelude, thought highly of his version of this tragic story, which, unlike that of Suhráb, is not a pure episode, but leads directly, though by a long road, to the chief epic climax. It also affords a good example of the poet's treatment of his subject-matter. Various legends are combined with curious results. For instance, the legend of the birth of Siyáwush from a grand-daughter of Garsíwaz is not allowed to militate against or to modify other legends in which ancestor and descendant meet on equal terms, in the full vigour of manhood, as strangers ignorant of their blood-relationship, as enemies, as villain and victim. Such instances are the surest guarantee that the poet is drawing on epic sources and not on his own imagination. The story further shows how needful it is for a reader of the Sháhnáma mentally to supply for himself the element of time. The account of Súdába's infatuation for Siyáwush¹⁸⁹

reads as if it were a matter of a few days, weeks, or months at most. It is only from a chance remark of hers that we learn that the affair had been going on for seven years!

The temptation of Siyáwush by Súdába, on which so much turns, will suggest many a parallel to the reader.

It should be mentioned, however, that Súdába's pretext for inviting Siyáwush to visit her—the suggested marriage of one of her daughters to him—was a legitimate one to a Zoroastrian.

Súdába's daughter would be Siyáwush's half-sister, and next-of-kin marriages, as they were called, were not only permitted but regarded as a sacred duty by the Magi.^189a

Súdába, with the wit of a woman much in love, hit upon a perfectly legitimate motive, and Kai Káús accepted it, as we see, without the least suspicion.

Siyáwush appears as Syávarshána in the Zandavasta, where he is several times mentioned in connection with his murder by Garsíwaz and Afrásiyáb, and the vengeance exacted for it by Kai Khusrau, who, we are told, “prevailed over all; he put in bonds Frangrasyan and Keresavasda, to avenge the murder of his father Syávarshána.”^189b

Here, as in other cases, the leading motives of the Sháhnáma originate in the Zandavasta.

§ 49. The poet in his description of Gang-dizh perhaps had in his mind the famous stronghold of Kalát-i-Nádirí, which lies about thirty miles to the north of Mashad and not far from the poet's own birthplace, but he follows his authorities, which look at matters from a point of view west of the Caspian, and describes Gang-dizh as being beyond the sea accordingly. Tradition seems to place it in Khárazm. In the Zandavasta we read of “the castle Khshathró-saoka, that stands high up on the lofty, holy Kangha.”^189c

In the Díná-í Maínóg-i Khirad, a Pahlaví treatise, Siyáwush is described as the founder of Kangdez, and Kangdez itself is described as lying to the east, on the frontier of Airán-végó.^189d

In the Bunda-hish it is described as being in the direction of the east, “at many leagues from the bed of the wide-formed ocean towards that side.”^189e

Now the learned Abú Raihán Muhammad, more commonly known in the west as Albírúní, was a native of Khárazm and wrote a history of that country. His account is nearly all lost, but in another work of his he tells us that the Khárazmians dated the colonisation of their country from the year 980 before Alexander, i.e. from the fourteenth century B.C., and that ninety-two years later the incursion of Siyáwush took place. From this time onward they were governed by monarchs of his race down to the days of king Áfrigh—a man of evil reputation—who built himself a fortress on the outskirts of the city of Khárazm, or made additions to an existing fortress, called Alfír, in the year 616 of the era of Alexander, i.e. toward the end of the third century A.D. This Alfír, Albírúni tells us, was built of clay and tiles, and consisted of three forts, one inside another, and all of equal height. Rising above the whole were the royal palaces. Alfir could be seen at a distance of ten miles or more. It was broken and shattered by the Oxus, and was swept away piece by piece every year, till the last remains of it had disappeared by the year 1305 of the era of Alexander, i.e. toward the end of the tenth century A.D.¹⁹⁰

It is evident from this account that Alfir was in process of construction or enlargement in the very century in which the Zandavasta was being compiled. The Khárazmians had racial affinities with the Íránians, and the epithet “holy” applied to Kangha in the Zandavasta evidently points to the fact that they were Zoroastrians as well. It may be therefore that the Khshathró-saoka of the Zandavasta, the Kangdez of the Pahlaví texts, the Alfir of Albírúní, and the Gang-dizh of the Sháhnáma all represent one and the same place—the palace-fortress of the ancient capital of Khárazm. Khárazm is, of course, the modern Khiva, and Gang-dizh means the fortress (dizh) of the land of Kangha.

§ 58 seq. In the account of the birth and youth of Kai Khusrau we have in essentials the same story as that told by Herodotus^190a

some fifteen centuries earlier. Astyages, the king of the Medes, had a daughter Mandane. He had a dream about her which he told to Magi who were learned in such matters. Their interpretation of it alarmed him, and as the safest course in the circum-stauces he married his daughter to an unambitious Persian of good family named Cambyses. Soon after Astyages had another dream about Mandane. He again consulted the dream-interpreters, who told him that his daughter's son would supersede him on the throne. In consequence of this prognostic he sent for Mandane, who was dwelling among the Persians, and had her closely guarded. When her son Cyrus was born, Astyages summoned Harpagus, a member of the royal house and a most loyal liege, and ordered him to take the child from Mandane, to kill it, and to bury it. Harpagus, in great distress, carried off the child, who was ready clad in funeral weeds, to his own home, but told his wife that nothing should induce him to make away with the infant himself, for they were akin to each other. Accordingly he sent for one of the herdsmen of Astyages, whose herds were pastured on the mountains north of Ekbatana, in the direction of the Euxine—a tract frequented by wild beasts—and bade him expose the child on some desolate spot that it might soon perish. Now, it so happened that the herdsman's wife had lately had a still-born babe, and when she saw Cyrus she persuaded her husband to expose the dead and allow her to keep the living child. The son of Mandane thus grew up in the house of the herdsman, and his royal birth soon began to assert itself. His playmates chose him for their king, and he used to hold mock court among them. At length an incident brought the matter to the ears of Astyages, who questioned the herdsman and was exceedingly wroth with Harpagus. The interpreters of dreams, however, declared that no further danger was to be apprehended from Cyrus, as the dream had been sufficiently fulfilled by his election to kingship by his playfellows. Accordingly Astyages sent him back to Persia to his parents Cambyses and Mandane. Subsequently Cyrus, incited by Harpagus, rebelled and overthrew Astyages.

In the Sháhnáma we have Afrásiyáb for Astyages, Farangís for Mandane, Siyáwush for Cambyses, Khusrau for Cyrus, and Pírán for Harpagus, while, if the view be correct that the so-called empire of the Medes was in reality the empire of the Manda,¹⁹¹

one important discrepancy between the Greek and Persian accounts is removed, for Astyages, Mandane, and Harpagus become Túránian instead of Median, and are thus brought into line with Afrásiyáb, Farangís, and Pírán, their representatives in the Shábnáma.

Thus said an archimage: One morning Tús
In merry pin left the Sháh's gate at cockcrow,
With Gív, Gúdarz, and other cavaliers,
To hunt upon the desert of Daghwí
With hawk and cheetah. By a river's bank
They stalked or ran down game, and caught or shot
Enough to last them forty days. Near by
A Turkman's camp showed black, and thence a forest
Stretched almost to the marches of Túrán.
Gív led the way with Tús: behind them came
Some brave retainers. Entering the wood,
And roaming thus awhile in quest of quarry,
They saw among the trees a fair-cheeked maiden,
And hurried toward her in high glee. The age
Had not her peer in looks; hers were not charms
To need apologies. In stature she

He asked her:—

“Why camest thou afoot, for thou hast come
Unmounted and unguided?”

She replied:—

“My steed was wearied out and fell exhausted.
I had uncounted gold, gold crown, and jewels,
But over yonder hill some people robbed me
And beat me with a scabbard. I escaped
In terror and am weeping tears of blood.
My sire no doubt when sober will dispatch
Some horsemen after me forthwith, my mother
Will haste to me, she would not have me quit
These fields and fells.”

Now both the paladins

Grew hot of heart for love of her, and Tús,
Lost to all shame, exclaimed: “'Twas I who spied her,
And therefore made such haste.”

But Gív replied:—

“O captain of the host! without thy host
Thou art no match for me.”

Still Tús insisted:—

“She came exactly in my horse's way.”
Gív said: “Nay! Say not so; I led the chase.

Both agreed

And went to Kai Káús, who when he saw
The damsel's beauty, fell in love with her
Himself, and said to those two generals:—
“Your journey's travail was cut short for you!
Be she a doe or beautiful gazelle
A quarry such as this is for your lord.
Come let us pass the day in telling how
These warriors with their cheetahs caught a Sun!”
He questioned her: “What is thy lineage,
For thou art fairy-like in countenance?”
“I am of high birth on my mother's side,”
She said, “my father sprang from Farídún.
My father's father is prince Garsíwaz,
Whose tents now occupy yon border land.”
Káús said: “Didst thou mean to fling away
Such looks as these, such beauty and such birth?
'Tis meet I place thee in my golden bower:
Thou must be chief of all the Moon-faced there.”
She answered: “I preferred thee at first sight
Among the great.”

The Sháh then gave each general

Ten noble chargers with a throne and crown,
But sent the Idol to the women's bower,
And gave command to set her on the throne.

When nine months had elapsed, and jocund spring
Resumed its tints, men said to Kai Káús:—
“Thou hast had fruit of that auspicious Moon:
A glorious infant hath appeared, and now
Thou well mayst set thy throne above the clouds.
A babe of fairy-form is born to her,
In visage like an idol of Ázar,¹⁹⁵

With face and hair unheard of heretofore,
And all the folk are talking of the child.”
The world-lord named him Siyáwush, and gave
The rolling heaven praise because of him;
Yet they that read the purpose of the sky,
Its good and evil and its when and how,
Saw that the stars were hostile to the boy,
And grieved because they saw his fortune sleeping.
They turned to God for refuge, warned the Sháh
About the fortune of his son, and showed
The path to take, aware that he would suffer
From good and bad. Anon came peerless Rustam

When news reached Sháh Káús that “Siyáwush
Is coming in great state,” both Gív and Tús
Went forth right joyously at his command
With escort, trump, and drum. The chiefs assembled,
With Rustam on this hand and Tús on that,
To come in triumph to the Sháh, for they
Came with that fruiting Sapling. When he reached
The palace of the Sháh a shout was raised,
And access given. Slaves with censers charged
With goodly perfumes gazed upon the prince
With folded arms. Three hundred filled the court
To every corner, and the noble Cypress
Was in the midst. They showered gold and gems,
And called down blessings on him. Siyáwush,
When he beheld Káús upon his throne
Of ivory and crowned with brilliant rubies,
First offered praise, did reverence, and whispered
To earth awhile. He then approached the Sháh,
Who clasped him closely. Kai Káús saluted
And welcomed Rustam warmly, seated him
Upon the turquoise throne and, lost in wonder,
Called many blessings down upon his son,

The Íránian chiefs,

Each with his gift, came to the Sháh rejoicing;
They marvelled at the Grace of Siyáwush,
And called a wealth of blessings down on him.
Then by the Sháh's command the noblemen
And captains of the host attended court,
While all the world resorted to his gardens,
His palace, and his hall, with right good cheer.
Men called for wine and harp and minstrelsy.
The Sháh's festivities were such as none
Had held before. A sennight passed in joy.
Upon the eighth day he unlocked his treasures,
And gave command to bring all manner forth,
As swords and signet-rings, with thrones and casques,
And Arab steeds with poplar-wooden saddles,
Bards, coats of mail for war, dínárs, and purses
Of drachms, brocade, and jewels great and small,
Except the crown, it was not time for that,
But all the rest Káús gave Siyáwush
With many promises of good to come.
Seven years' probation proved his noble birth
By all his acts, the eighth the monarch bade him
Assume a golden crown and torque and girdle,

When all was ordered as the Sháh had bidden
The prince's mother passed away. The prince
Came from his throne like one possessed, and raised
His lamentation to the rolling sky.
He rent his clothes, threw dust upon his head,
Mourned o'er her sorely, grievously afflicting
His own sweet soul, mourned greatly night and day,
For many days ne'er smiled, grieved one whole moon,
And sought no respite from his misery.
Now when the nobles heard thereof—such men
As Tús and Faríburz, Gúdarz and Gív,
Born princes or heroic paladins—
They made all haste to come to Siyáwush,
Who as he looked on them groaned grievously;
His tears burst forth afresh, and he unlocked
The portal of the anguish of his heart.
Gúdarz, when he beheld the prince's sorrow,
Gazed on that noble Cypress overwrought,
And weeping said to him: “O royal prince!
Hear mine advice and think no more of grief.
The child of every mother will depart;
Not one of them can 'scape the clutch of fate.
Although thy mother is a memory now,
Mourn not: her spirit is in heaven.”

Of many a counsel, many a soothing strain,
He made the prince's heart itself again.

Time passed, the Sháh still joyed in Siyáwush,
Till as they sat one day Súdába entered,
Beheld the prince's face, and grew distraught.
Her heart throbbed, “she is wasted to a thread,”
Thou wouldst have said, “or ice before the fire.”
She bade one go by stealth to him and say:—
“'Twould cause no wonder if thou shouldest visit
The royal bower anon.”

The envoy went,

But noble Siyáwush was wroth and said:—
“Entice me not. I am no chamberer,
Or given to romances and intrigues.”
Another day at dawn Súdába sought
The Sháh and said: “O ruler of the host!
The sun and moon have never seen thy peer,
Or any like thy son. Let all the world
Rejoice in him; so send him to thy bower
To see his sisters and thy favourites.
Tell him: ‘Go visit oft thy sisters there,
Whose hearts are full, whose cheeks are wet, with
yearning.’
Then will we pay him worship, give him gifts,
And bring the tree of service into fruit.”
The Sháh replied: “Thou sayest right; thou hast
A hundred mothers' love for him.”

He called

For Siyáwush and said: “The blood within
Our veins, and love, will show themselves; moreover
God hath so made thee that thou art beloved

“If,” he thought,

“I go Súdába will talk much with me,”
Then said: “The Sháh hath given me a patent,
A throne, and crown. From where the lofty sun
Arising maketh dust a thing of price
No king resembling thee in goodness, knowledge,
Demeanour, and pursuits, e'er donned the crown.
Point me the way to sages, men of leading,
And chiefs approved; or show me how to handle
Spear, mace, or bow and arrow, midst the foe;
Or be it king-craft and court-usages,
Or feast and harp, or wine and revellers;
But in the women's quarters of the Sháh
What shall I learn? Shall women point the way
To knowledge? Yet if so the Sháh commandeth
My custom henceforth is to visit them.”

“I will go,”

Said Siyáwush, “to-morrow and perform
The Sháh's command. Behold I stand before thee
Devoted, heart and soul, to do thy bidding.
As thou requirest so will I behave,
Thou art the world-lord; I am but a slave.”

One named Hírbad, purged heart and brain and soul
From evil, never left the Idol-house,
And kept the key. The Sháh commanded him:—
“What time the sun shall draw the sword of day
Seek Siyáwush and further his commands.
Instruct Súdába to present to him
A gift of gems and musk, and let withal
His sisters and the slaves pour emeralds
And saffron over him.”

When Sol o'ertopped

The mountains Siyáwush approached the Sháh
And did obeisance. When they had conversed
Awhile in private Kai Káús instructed
Hírbad, then said to Siyáwush: “Go with him
And be prepared to look on something new.”
The twain went off together merrily
Without a thought of care; but when Hírbad

Siyáwush

Came to his father's presence and spake thus:—
“I have beheld the veil and what it hid.
All good things in the world are thine, no need
For thee to vindicate the ways of God
Who dost in treasure, scimitars, and troops
Surpass Húshang, Jamshíd, and Farídún.”
The Sháh joyed at the words. He decked his palace
Like jocund spring, had wine and harp and things
Prepared, and banned the future from the heart.
That night he went among his dames and talked
Thus with Súdába: “Hide not what thou thinkest
About the judgment and the courtesy
Of Siyáwush, his stature, looks, and speech.
Dost thou approve of him and is he wise?
Deserveth he what others say of him?”
Súdába answered: “Sháh and people never
Saw thy like on the throne, and who is there
To match thy son? Why speak with bated breath?”
The Sháh said: “If he is to live till manhood
We must protect him from the evil eye.”²⁰⁴

She said: “If my words please, and if thy son
And I are minded that I should bestow
A wife upon him out of his own kindred,
Not from the great ones that are round about—
A consort who shall bear to him a son
Such as he is himself among the mighty—
Then I myself have daughters like to thee,
Begotten of thy seed, of thy pure stock;
Or should he take a child of Kai Árash,
Or Kai Pashín, she would give thanks with joy.”

Siyáwush

Was gladdened by the words, and reassured
Began to speak the world-king's praise and pay
Him reverence, falling down before the throne,
Yet privily Súdába with her schemes
Still vexed and troubled him, for well he knew,
And his skin burst: “This is her notion too!”

V. 538 Another night thus passed and starry heaven
Turned o'er dark earth. Súdába radiant
Sat on her throne and donned a diadem
Of rubies. Then she summoned all her daughters,
Arrayed, and seated them on golden thrones.
Before her stood young Idols: thou hadst said:—
“It is a paradise.” The moon-faced lady
Said to Hírbad: “Go say to Siyáwush:—
‘Afflict thy feet and show thyself to me.’”
Hírbad made speed to give that lover's message
To Siyáwush who, hearing, stood distraught,
And oft invoked the Maker of the world.
He sought in various ways but found no help;
He trembled, and his legs shook under him;
Then went to visit her and saw her state,
Her face, and diadem. She with her head
And tresses decked with gems rose at his coming,
Gave up the throne of gold to him and, standing
Slavelike, displayed her Idols—gems uncut.
“Behold this throne-room,” thus she said, “and all
These handmaids with their golden coronets!
They all are youthful Idols of Taráz,
Whom God hath formed of modesty and charms.
If any one of them delighteth thee,
Survey her looks and form from head to foot.”
While Siyáwush was glancing lightly round
There was not one who dared to catch his eye,
And as they talked they said: “The moon itself
Would not presume to gaze upon this prince.”

How he entreated the Íránian king,
And how he raised dust from the Íránian chiefs.
This treacherous Súdába is his daughter,
And will not leave our kindred skin or marrow.”
He opened not his lips to make reply.
The fairy-faced one raised her veil and said:—
“If one should see the new moon and the sun
Here upon this new throne, it would not be
A marvel if the moon should be despised,
And thou shouldst press the sun in thine embrace.
No wonder if the man that seeth me
Upon the ivory throne, with rubies crowned
And turquoise, should not look upon the moon,
But think all other Beauties beautiless.
If thou wilt make a compact with me now,
Turn not away but set my heart at rest,
One of my youthful daughters present here
Will I make stand before thee like a slave.
So make a compact with me now by oath,
And disregard no jot of what I say,
That, when the Sháh departeth from the world,
Thou wilt be his memorial with me,
Wilt never suffer me to come to harm,
But hold me dear as life. And now behold!

Then he said:—

“Thou hast not any equal in the world,
And art the rival of the moon itself
In beauty: thou art for the Sháh alone.
As for myself thy daughter will suffice;
None other must be mine. Consent to this,
Propose it to the monarch of Írán,
And mark the answer that thou wilt receive.
I will demand her and will covenant,
And give a pledge before thee with my tongue,
That till her stature equalleth mine own
I will not think of any one besides.
For what thou askest further—since my face
Inspireth in thy soul a love for me—
God's Grace hath made me thus, O thou most fair!
Conceal thy secret; speak of it to none:
For me too silence is the only course.
Thou art the chief of ladies and a queen,
And I will think of thee as mother only.”
He spake these words and rose to go, but love
Still filled her wicked soul. When next Káús,

Súdába sat enthroned, adorned with earrings
And chaplet of wrought gold upon her head.
She called the prince and said, as they conversed:—
“The Sháh hath set these treasures forth, and none
Hath seen such crowns and thrones. The sum of
gifts

She rent her robes and tore her cheeks. A cry
Rose from her bower, her clamour reached the street.

What saith the sage?

“Not lust but blood our thoughts must now engage.”
The inmates of the bower, those well advised
And noble servants faithful to their lord,
He bade withdraw and, sitting on the throne
Alone, called for Súdába and his son,
And wisely said to him: “I needs must know
This secret. 'Twas not thou but I that wrought
The ill. I suffer for my thoughtless words:
Why did I call thee to the women's house?
Now I am grieved that thou art thus involved.
Let me have all the truth, show me its face,
And say what passed.”

And how he had been wrought on by Súdába.
She cried: “It is a lie. Of all the Idols
It was my person only that he sought;
I told him what the king of earth proposed
To give him publicly and privily,
Told him about my daughter and the crown,
The precious things, brocade, and treasure-hoards.
I told him: ‘I will add as much again,
And give my daughter all that I possess.’
He said to me: ‘I do not want the goods,
And do not mean to see thy child. Of all
The world,’ he said, ‘I need but thee—no more.
No wealth or personage availeth aught
Without thine own self.’ Then he tried to force me,
And handled me with hands as hard as stones.
I would not grant his wishes. All my hair
He tore and caused these scratches on my face.
I am with child, O monarch of the world!
By thee, but he was near to killing it
With all his struggles, and the world was strait
And dark before me.”

Then the great king thought:—

The testimony of them both is worthless,
And this is not a case for instancy,
Because a heart in straits perverteth wisdom.
I needs must first investigate the matter,
And when my heart is calm it will bear witness;
I shall discover which is in the wrong,
And which of them deserveth punishment.”
He sought all means of finding out the truth,
And first he smelt the hands of Siyáwush,
His breast, his arms, his head, and all his person.
A scent of wine, rose-water, and fine musk
Was on Súdába, but on Siyáwush
Was none, nor any sign that he had touched her.
The Sháh was troubled, he disgraced Súdába,

Súdába, conscious that she was disgraced
And that the Sháh's heart was estranged from her,
Sought in her evil case some remedy,
And set anew the tree of her revenge.
She had a woman in the bower, adept
In charms and spells, deceit and artifice,
And one moreover who was great with child,
Near to the time of her delivery.
Súdába told her all and sought her aid,
But said: “First give a pledge of thy good faith.”
Súdába took her pledge, gave her much gold,
And said: “Make mention of this thing to none.
Prepare a drug that thou mayest make abortion,
Remain concealed, and keep my secret close.
It may be that my coil of many lies
May gain some credit through this babe of thine,
For I will tell Káús: ‘This is my child,
Thus murdered by the hand of Áhriman!’

Súdába had a golden salver brought
Whereon she laid those brats of Áhriman,
And shrieked and flung herself upon a couch.
She hid the woman and retired to bed:
Her wailing reached the palace from her chamber.
Then all the slaves within the palace came
In haste before Súdába, they beheld
Two infants lying dead upon the salver,
And cries rose o'er the palace and o'er Saturn.
The sound of wailing reached and woke Káús
Who listened trembling, asked, and heard how fortune
Had dealt with his fair spouse. Sleepless and anxious
He rose at dawn, went in and saw Súdába
Prostrate, the women frantic, and two babes
In evil plight, flung on a golden salver!
Súdába rained the water from her eyes,
And said: “Behold this bright sun—Siyáwush!
I often told thee of his evil deeds,
But thou didst foolishly believe his words.”
The heart of Sháh Káús was filled with doubt,
He went his way, remained a while in thought,
Then said: “What remedy shall I apply?
I must not treat the case with levity.”

V. 547 Káús then summoned all the astrologers
Before him, welcomed them, assigning each
A golden throne, and spake about Súdába,
And of the warfare with Hámávarán,
That they might have a knowledge of her case,
And understand her conduct thoroughly;
He also spake at large about the children,
But kept his own suspicions to himself.
They then took planispheres and astrolabes,
And having spent a sennight on the business
Said: “How can wine be in a cup which thou
Hast filled with poison? These are spurious children,
Not from this mother and the monarch's loins:
We should have found them on the planisphere
With ease if they had been of royal race,
But know that heaven revealeth not their secret,
Nor is this wonder of the earth.”

They told

The Sháh and court of that foul, wicked woman.
Súdába wailed and cried aloud for justice,
She called upon the world-lord for redress,
And said: “I was the comrade of the Sháh
When he had suffered and had lost the throne.
My heart is tortured for my murdered babes,
And ever and anon I swoon away.”

The thoughts of Kai Káús ran on them both;
He said: “If either prove a profligate
Will any henceforth call me Sháh? Moreover
My son and wife are blood and brain to me;
Whom then will this perplexing business profit?
Still it is best to purify my heart
From foul surmise and take this dreadful course.
How well the moralizing monarch said:—
‘If thou art faint of heart play not the king!’”²¹⁹

He gave instructions to his minister
To have a hundred caravans of camels
Brought from the plain. These went to gather firewood,
While all the people of Írán looked on,
Till two huge mountains rose that might be seen
Two leagues away; so should a key be found

And lighting from his charger did obeisance.
The Sháh was shame-faced and his words were kind.
“Be not discomfited,” said Siyáwush,
“That fortune taketh such a turn as this.
I am dishonoured: such a state is ruin.
If I am innocent I shall escape,
While if in fault the Maker will not heed me;

As he drew near

The flames he prayed the Judge that hath no needs:—
“Grant me a passage through this mount of fire,
And free me from my sire's misprision.”

Thus

He testified the anguish of his soul,
Then urged his black steed on like smoke. A wail
Ascended from the city and the waste,
For all the people grieved at what was done.
Súdába heard the wailing on the plain,
Went to the palace-roof, descried the blaze,
Wished ill to him, and babbled feverishly.
The people fixed their eyes upon Káús;
Their tongues wagged freely and their hearts were
wroth.
Meanwhile the prince so handled his black charger
That thou hadst said: “His steed took to the fire.”
From every side the flames closed o'er his head,
And none could see his helmet or his horse,
While all the plain wept tears of blood and asked:—
“How will he ever issue from the flames?”
The noble hero nathless reappeared,
With rosy cheeks and smiles upon his lips.
A roar went up as men caught sight of him:
They cried: “The young Sháh cometh from the fire!”
He came with horse and raiment such that thou
Hadst said: “He beareth jasmine in his breast.”
Had flame been water he had not been wetted,
His garments would have holden none of it;
For when all-holy God doth so vouchsafe
The breath of fire is even as the wind.
The horsemen of the host urged on their steeds,
While all the people on the plain threw drachms
Before him; there was universal joy
Among the mighty and the mean alike

Káús the fourth day sat upon the throne
Of kings; an ox-head mace was in his hand.
Fierce in his wrath he had Súdába summoned
Before him, told her what had passed, and said:—
“Thou art a shameless woman! Thou hast wrought
Enough of ill and grieved me to the heart.
What part is this that thou hast played throughout
In treacherously seeking my son's life,
In causing him to be exposed to fire,
And practising such witchcraft? No excuses
Will now avail thee; go and get thee ready;
Thou art not fit to live. The punishment
For such a crime as this is to be hanged.”

She said withal

To Siyáwush: “Thou usest witchcraft still!
Shall not thy back of impudence be bent?”
The great Sháh asked the Íránians: “For the evil
That she hath done by stealth, what shall I do?
How shall I punish her?”

All did obeisance,

And said: “The punishment for her is death:
She ought to suffer for her evil deeds.”
He bade the deathsman: “Hang her in the street
Upon the gibbet and be pitiless.”²²³

At her abandonment the women wailed,
And Sháh Káús was sorrowful of heart;
He strove to hide it but his cheeks were pale.
“Let not thy heart,” said Siyáwush, “be troubled,
But pardon for my sake Súdába's fault;
She may be warned and walk advisedly.”
“For if,” he thought, “she perish by his hand
He will be sorry for it in the end,
And see in me the author of his grief.”^223a

The Sháh, who had been seeking some excuse
For mercy, answered him: “I grant thee this
Because I see that right was on thy side.”

Now in time the heart

Of Sháh Káús so warmed to her that he
Could not forbear to eye her face in love,
While, for her part, by secret sorceries
She worked on him to ruin Siyáwush
According to the evil of her nature.
The Sháh became mistrustful through her talk,
But spake not aught thereof to any one.
When such events are happening men require
Faith, knowledge, wisdom, and the sense of right,
For in proportion as they keep in sight
The fear of God they reach their heart's desire.
Expect not foolishly that thou shalt find
Balm in a place that fate hath filled with bane,
And if Creation be not to thy mind,
It is not in thy charge. Thy wrath restrain.
Besides the manner of the turning sky
Is not to show its visage openly.
Here saith our guide: “Of all affections none
Hath greater influence than kindred love,
And he who hath achieved a worthy son
Must from his own heart woman's love remove,
Because with her the heart and tongue ne'er meet:
Look for her head if thou wouldst find her feet.”

The Sháh was deep in love when news arrived:—
“Afrásiyáb hath come with five score thousand
Picked Turkman cavaliers.”

The banquet-hall for war, but called his lieges,
And said: “Of fire and water, earth and air,
In sooth God did not make Afrásiyáb,
But otherwise, who swore so great an oath,
And promised fairly with his tongue, yet now
Is gathering his men of war like dust,
And turning from his oath and covenant!
I must go seek revenge and dim his day,
Perchance destroy his influence in the world;
Else, sudden as the arrow from the bow,
He will array his host, o'ercome Írán,
And waste no little of its fields and fells.”
“What is an army for,” the archmages said,
“If thou must go in person to the fight?
What need to give such riches to the winds,
And ope the portal of so great a hoard?
Twice in thy haste thy throne's illustrious seat
Hast thou delivered to thine enemies;
Choose some good paladin renowned in war
To take thy place and execute revenge.”
The Sháh replied: “I see none here that hath
The rank or might to meet Afrásiyáb,
And therefore like a vessel o'er the water
Must I set forth myself. Depart, that I
May order matters with my counsellors.”
Then Siyáwush considered in his heart,
Made of his soul a very wood of thoughts,
And said: “I will conduct this war myself;
I will entreat the Sháh and ask this boon.
Perchance All-righteous God will set me free
Both from Súdába and my sire's distrust:
To snare so great a host will bring me fame.”

The prince

Then set the drums upon the elephants,
Bestrode his steed, and bade his warriors mount,
While Sháh Káús with tearful eyes went forward
One day's march with him. Then the twain embraced,
Both of them weeping like a cloud in spring.
They poured down tears of blood and cried aloud
In their distress, for as they went along
Their hearts gave witness to them that thenceforth
They should not look upon each other more.
Thus fortune ever changeth, and our gain
Therefrom is sometimes balm and sometimes bane.
Káús turned toward his throne, and Siyáwush
Marched with his warlike army from Írán
Toward Zábulistán to visit Zál
With Rustam of the elephantine form;
And there with Zál, the favourite of fortune,
He spent some time with wine and minstrelsy.
At whiles he drank with Rustam and at whiles
Consorted with Zawára, sat rejoicing
Upon the throne of Zál or drew the reed-beds.
A month so passed. Then leaving Zál he marched
With Rustam as his paladin, and warriors
Drawn from Zábul, Kábul, and Hind. Moreover
He summoned famous chiefs from every quarter
Until he reached the desert of Harát.
These furnished footmen not a few. He made
Their leader Zanga son of Sháwarán,
And marched toward Tálikán and the Marvrúd.
Thou wouldst have said: “The heaven greeteth him.”
Anon he came to Balkh, and injured none
E'en by a bitter word.²²⁸

On the other side

Bármán and Garsíwaz led on their power
As 'twere a tempest. Sipahram commanded
The rear, Bármán the van. To them there came
News of the youthful chief: “A mighty host—
Famed warriors all—hath issued from Irán.”

The prince and army having entered Balkh,
He wrote on silk with spicery and musk
In fitting style a letter to the Sháh,

The letter reached the Sháh. It raised his crown
And throne to Saturn, and he prayed to God
That this young Tree might come to bearing fruit;
Then wrote with joy this letter of reply,
Like shining spring or jocund Paradise:—
“Now through the Maker of the sun and moon—
The World-lord who bestoweth crown and throne—
Mayst thou for ever have a joyful heart,
One painless and untroubled, and therewith
Be thine the victory, and thine the Grace,
The cap of power and throne of majesty.
Thou leddest forth an army to the war
With prosperous fortune and a righteous cause,

He sealed this, called the messenger,

And gave it with injunctions to return.
The messenger sped over hill and dale,
And came to Siyáwush who, when he saw
The letter, was rejoiced and kissed the ground,
Put off the bondage of anxiety,
And carefully observed the Sháh's commands,
Not swerving from his duty as a liege.
Thereafter Garsíwaz, the lion-man,
Approached the monarch of Túrán, like dust,
And told this grievous and unwelcome tale:—
“The chieftain Siyáwush arrived at Balkh
With Rustam as his marshaller, with troops
Past count, and many men of name and leading.
They had full fifty men to one of ours—
Proud warriors, wielders of the buffalo-mace.

As night advanced Afrásiyáb cried out,
And shook upon his bed like one with ague,
While slaves sprang up and sounded the alarm.

He answered: “Ask me not,

Speak not to me till I regain some wits,
But take and clasp me to thy breast awhile.”
Anon on coming to himself he saw
A world of lamentation and of hubbub.
They lighted candles and he took his seat,
Still shaking like a bough, upon the throne.
Then said to him aspiring Garsíwaz:—
“Unlock thy lips and tell us this strange thing.”
He answered: “None will see a vision such
As I have looked upon this darksome night:
I have not heard of such from young or old.
I saw in sleep a desert full of serpents,
The sky all eagles and the ground all dust,
And so parched up that thou hadst said: ‘The heaven
Hath not looked on it since the world began.’
Upon one side my tent-enclosure stood,
And round it was a host of warriors.
A dust-storm rose and laid my standard low,
Blood surged around, the tents and tent-enclosure
Were overthrown, while of my countless troops
The heads were lopped, the bodies spurned aside.
Came like a blast an army from Írán,
What spears they bore and what artillery!
There was a head impaled on every spear,
Another was in every horseman's lap.
A hundred thousand of them sable-clad,
And wielding spears, came charging at my throne.
They drave me from the place where I was sitting,
Made my hands fast, and hurried me along.

Thy purposes, thy crown, and throne shall stand,
The fortunes of thy foes be overthrown.
We need a man that can interpret dreams,
One who hath pondered much this kind of lore.
Now let us call the wise, all who may be
Skilled in astrology and grammarye.”

From far and near the learnéd in this lore
Assembled at the court to hear the questions.
The king gave audience, placed them in due rank
Before him, spake of matters great and small
With each, and then addressed the company,
The priests, the sages, and astrologers:—
“Tell no one openly or as a secret
This dream of mine, or what I now shall say.
I will not leave the head upon the trunk
Of him who breatheth aught of this affair.”
He gave them gold and silver past compute
That they might feel assured, then told his dream.

He promised not to harm

Or to impute the ill to them. Their spokesman,
One shrewd exceedingly and skilled to deal
With delicate affairs, said: “King of the world!
I will reveal this secret. From Írán
An army cometh mighty and alert,
The chiefs are brave, the leader is a prince
With many world-experienced counsellors,
Who by his horoscope, though not a Sháh,
Will wreck our land. If now the king shall fight
With Siyáwush earth will be like brocade,
And not a Turkman will survive; the king
Will grieve at having fought with him, for though
Thy hand will slay him, realm and throne will cease
Within Túrán, and earth be tilled with strife,
Revenge, and combat on account of him.
Thou shalt bethink thee that my rede is true
What time thy lands lie waste for lack of people.
Although the king become a flying bird
He cannot pass the sky, which as it turneth
Is full at whiles of hate, at whiles of love.”
The king grew sad and hasted not to fight,
But told to Garsíwaz the secret, adding:—

Now when the sky had half revolved, and when
The shining sun displayed its face once more,
The mighty men betook themselves to court
With covered heads to offer their respects.
Afrásiyáb convoked the experienced sages,
And thus addressed them: “It hath been my lot
To see no desert but that made by war,
And many great ones of the Íránians
Have perished by my hand upon the field.
What cities have been turned to hospitals!
What beds of roses into brakes of brambles!

So Garsíwaz with those rich gifts, which made

This done we must send one to tell the Sháh;
May be he will abandon thoughts of war.”
“This is the proper method,” Rustam said,
“In this way only will a pact be made.”

At daybreak Garsíwaz appeared at court,
With covered head and girdle round his loins,
And having been admitted kissed the ground,
And did obeisance unto Siyáwush,
Who said: “How was it with thee yesternight
Amid this great encampment and such din?”
And added: “As for this affair of thine,
I have considered fully thy proposal,

Then Siyáwush sat on the ivory throne,
And hung the crown above it. He considered
Whom he should send, what man of courteous speech

Then Siyáwush

Rejoiced, and spake no more of messengers,
But sat with Rustam and discussed the matter,
Then called a scribe and had a letter written
On silk. There first he praised the Judge from whom
He had his fortune, strength, and excellence—
“The Lord of understanding, time, and power,
The Nourisher of wisdom in the soul.
None can transgress His ordinance. The man
Who disobeyeth Him can look for naught
But loss, for He is Author both of wealth
And right. From Him who fashioned sun and moon,
Who illustrateth fortune, throne, and crown,
Be blessings showered upon our sovereign—
The lord of earth, the chosen of the great,
Whose purview reacheth all things good and ill:
May his tall form be wisdom's pedestal.
I came to Balkh this jocund spring, rejoicing;
But when Afrásiyáb had news of me
The sparkling liquor darkened in his cup:
He saw that he was in a strait; the world
Was black and fortune fallen. His brother came

Now on his side like flying dust came Rustam,
The Lion-man, with folded arms before

Káús, the mighty Sháh, was filled with wrath
And raged at Rustam with dilated eyes:—
“So then the truth is out at last! 'Twas thou
That prompted this to root up from his heart
Revenge! Thine aim was ease and not the glory
Of signet, crown, and throne. Abide thou here,
And Tús shall mount the drums as general.
I will dispatch a horseman with a letter
Writ in harsh terms to Balkh. If Siyáwush
Will not obey he shall resign the host
To Tús and come back with his own retainers.

Káús then warned a courier, called a scribe,
And set him by the throne to write a letter
Of wrath and strife, as 'twere a poplar shaft.
He first gave praises to Almighty God—
“The Lord of peace and war, the Lord of Mars,
Of Saturn, and the moon, of good and ill,

The prince

Refused the counsel of those two wise men,
So heaven willed. He said: “The Sháh's command
Is higher than the sun and moon to me;
Yet none from straws to elephants and lions
May brave God's word, and he that disobeyeth
Hath troubled wits and is beside himself.
Must I put forth my hand for shedding blood,
And lead two kingdoms into war? Besides
He is aggrieved about the hostages,
And will demand again what I refused;
While if I quit the field, returning home
Without a fight, the Sháh will be incensed
And in his fury harm me. If your hearts
Are troubled by my action heed me not;
I will be mine own guide and messenger,
And quit the camp-enclosure on the waste.
When one is no partaker in my gains
Why should he take to heart my pains?”

When thus

He spake the souls of those two chieftains withered;
They wept at dread of parting and consumed
As in fierce fire; they saw the evil eye
Of fortune secretly upon the prince,
That they would never look on him again,
And wept his case. Said Zanga: “We are slaves:
Love for our leader filleth both our hearts.

So Zanga, with a hundred noble horsemen,
Bore from the prince's court the hostages,
And all the goods that Garsíwaz had brought.
When Zanga reached the Turkman monarch's city
A shout ascended and the watch espied him.
A noble warrior Tuwurg by name
Went forth to welcome him. At audience
Afrásiyáb arose, embraced him warmly,
And set him by the throne, where he presented
The letter and delivered all the message.
Afrásiyáb was much disquieted
And, having ordered fitting entertainment
For Zanga, called his captain of the host,

The monarch cleared the room and spake with him
About Káús and his intemperate words,
His evil nature and his warlike projects.
Afrásiyáb looked grave, his heart was full
For Siyáwush. He told of Zanga's coming,
And asked: “What remedy shall I employ,
How make a league in this embarrassment?”
Pírán replied: “O king! live happily
While time shall be. Thou art more wise than we are,
In treasure and in manhood mightier,
In apprehension, kindness, understanding,
And counsel, none hath wit to supersede thee.
All that have power to benefit this prince
Will grudge not toil and treasure. I have heard
That there is no chief like him in the world
In stature, countenance, and gentleness,
In culture, counsel, and propriety.
His prowess and his wisdom too exceed
His noble birth. No monarch hath begotten
Another such; words cannot do him justice.
He is a prince illustrious and right royal.
If he possessed no virtue but this one—
That he hath quarrelled with his sire to save
Our hundred nobles' lives, given up the throne
And crown to meaner men, and gone his way,
'Twould not be politic to let him pass
From us. Besides Káús is hoary now;
The time hath come for him to quit the throne;

Afrásiyáb, when he had heard this, took
A wise resolve, called an experienced scribe
And spake to him at large about the matter.
The scribe first dipped his pen in ambergris,
Then wrote the Maker's praise, acknowledging
His might and wisdom: “Since He is above
Both time and place how can His slaves' thoughts reach
To Him—the Lord of wisdom, sense, and soul,
Whose justice is the provand of the sage?
His benediction be upon the prince—
The lord of helm and mace and scimitar,
The lord of modesty and reverence,
Pure from wrongdoing both in heart and hand.
From wary Zanga son of Sháwarán
Have I heard all thy message, and my heart
Is troubled that the world-lord is enraged
So much against thee; but what seek the wise,
Whose fortunes are awake, save crown and throne?
Here everything hath been prepared for thee,
E'en to the royal dignity and treasures,
For all Túrán will do thee reverence,
And I for my part long to have thy love.
Then thou and I will be as son and sire—
A sire who is a slave before his son.
Know that Káús hath never shown affection

He sealed the letter,

Then bade his good friend Zanga gird his loins
To go with speed, and gave him many gifts
Of gold and silver, and a steed caparisoned
With massive gold. When Zanga gave his tidings
The prince was glad and sorry too to make

Then Siyáwush wrote thus to Kai Káús
To tell him all: “Though young I want not wits.
While I have done no wrong, the world-lord's temper
Hath burned my heart within me. First Súdába
Occasioned trouble; I was forced to traverse
A mount of fire; my heart's blood bathed my cheeks,
And in the wastes the deer wept sore for me.
Then went I forth in shame and woe to face
The claws of Crocodiles. Both kingdoms now
Enjoy repose, yet is the Sháh's heart like
A sword of steel; my doings please him not,
And if I bind or loose 'tis all the same.
Since he is weary of me I will cease
To trouble him. Ne'er may his heart lack joy.
As for myself I seek the Dragon's breath
In sorrow, doubtful what the turning sky
Intendeth for me—whether hate or love.”
Then said he to Bahrám: “Now give thy name
Fresh glory in the world; I leave with thee
The baggage and the camp, the cavaliers,
The treasure, elephants, and kettledrums.
When noble Tús shall come, resign thy charge
To him, be vigilant and fortunate.”
He chose three hundred doughty cavaliers,

The chiefs all kissed the ground

Before the glorious Siyáwush.

At sunset,

When air grew dark and earth ungenial,
The prince, his face obscured by tears, marched forth
Toward Jíhún with all his company.
When he had reached Tirmid, doors, roofs, and streets
Were full of scent and colour like the spring
Up to the gates of Chách: thou wouldst have said:—
“It is a bride with crown and necklaces.”
At every stage were carpets laid and viands
Prepared, the whole way to Káchár Báshí,
Where he dismounted and remained a while.
When Tús reached Balkh they told him bitter news:—
“The son of glorious Kai Káús hath gone
To join the leader of the Turkman host.”
Tús called in all the troops and marched them back

Pírán

Kissed his fair, charming face, his head and feet,
And thus addressed the Maker: “Thou know'st all
things,
The open and the secret. Hadst Thou shown me
His soul in dreams, in sooth mine agèd head
Had been made young.”

He said to Siyáwush:—

“Now that I see thee radiant and robust
I offer praises to Almighty God.
Afrásiyáb will be a father to thee,
The chiefs this side the stream will be thy slaves.
Above a thousand of my kin will wait
On thee with earrings in their ears, my treasures
Are all thine own; be ever hale and happy.
Draw not a single breath of discontent,
For men and women are alike thy slaves,
And, if thou wilt accept my hoary head,
I too will gird my loins to do thee service.”
They went with joy, discussing divers matters,
While through the city there were sounds of harp
And rebeck; sleepy heads were roused; the soil
Was blackened with fresh musk; the Arab steeds
All spread their wings. When Siyáwush saw this
Tears rained from both his eyes, his thoughts were
troubled,
For he recalled the hocktide in Zábul
When it was decked up to Kábulistán,
And he had gone as guest to Rustam there
With all the famous men for company,
And how the folk had showered down gold and gems,
And sifted musk and ambergris o'erhead.
He thought about Írán and heaved a sigh,
His heart burned with the memories of home.

The prince replied:—

“O venerable sage who sayest sooth,
World-famed for thy sincerity and love,
Far from unkindness and from Áhriman!
If thou wilt make a covenant with me
I know that thou wilt keep it, and will make
This land my home in love and confidence
In thee, my friend! and, if my sojourn here
Is well, I need not weep for what I did:
If otherwise command me to depart,
And point me out the way to other realms.”
Pírán replied: “Have no such thought. Since thou
Hast left Írán, in no wise hasten from us,
And lose our monarch's love. Though his repute
In this world is not good, he is a man
Of God, hath wisdom, prudence, and high rede,
And turneth not in lightness to bad ways.

too; with him
I have, as paladin and counsellor,
High rank, abundant treasures, thrones, and troops.
Above a hundred thousand cavaliers
Obey me here. Twelve thousand of my kinsmen
Stand day and night before me. I have land,
Flocks, lassos, bows, steeds, implements of war,
And hoarded treasure; I need no man's aid.
Let all this be thy ransom if thou wilt
Abide with us. I swear by Holy God
That I will serve thee both with heart and soul.
I will not suffer any ill to thee…
But no man knoweth high heaven's purposes.”
The prince rejoiced, his heart was freed from care.
They sat and ate, and grew like sire and son,
Then in high spirits sped along the road
To Gang—the Turkman monarch's fair abode.