On hearing: “Glorious Siyáwush hath come,”
Afoot with girded loins right eagerly.
The prince beholding him got off his horse
And ran to meet the king. The two embraced,
And kissed each other's head and eyes. Then said
Afrásiyáb: “Now evil is asleep
Throughout the world; henceforward war and tumult
Will cease; the deer and pard will drink together.
The world was troubled by brave Túr, but now
Our realms are sick of strife; while they were filled
With turmoil the world's heart had no repose;
Peace is restored by thee; the age hath rest
From battle and hot blood, all in Túrán
Are now thy slaves, all hearts are full of love
For thee; in soul and body I am thine;
Pírán the general is thy kinsman too.
I will regard thee with a father's fondness,
And ever show to thee a face all smiles.”
Then Siyáwush with many blessings answered:—
“May justice be the fortune of thy race.
Praise to the Lord, the Maker of the soul,
From Whom are peace and battle and revenge.”
The monarch, hand in hand with Siyáwush,
Sat on the throne of might, and as he gazed
Upon the prince, said: “None can equal him
On earth in stature, looks, and kingly Grace.”
To lose sight of a son so tall and gifted
As this. I marvelled, when I first beheld him,
How any man with such a son could look
At aught besides.”
He made choice of a palace,
Laid cloth of gold for carpets, set a throne
Of gold with feet like heads of buffaloes,
Bedecked the palace with brocade of Chín,
And furnished it throughout, then bade his guest
Go thither and abide in full content.
When Siyáwush arrived before the hall
Its dome reached Saturn, he went in and sat
Upon the golden throne, his wise soul wrapped
In thought, until the monarch's board was spread,
And he was summoned; there they talked together,
And entered on a course of happiness.
The banquet o'er they went with harp and minstrel
To hold a drinking-bout. They sat and quaffed
Until the world grew dark and heads became
Bemused with wine, then Siyáwush went home
With glee, and in his cups forgot Írán.
Afrásiyáb gave heart and soul to him,
And could not sleep for thinking. That same night
“When the morn shall come,
And Siyáwush hath risen, go to him
With mine own kinsmen and the paladins
Of highest rank, take with you noble steeds
Caparisoned with gold, and other gifts.”
Accordingly the warriors presented
To Siyáwush gold coins and royal gems
With courteous greetings, and the king too sent
Him many gifts. Thus was one sennight spent.
One night the king spake thus to Siyáwush:—
“To-morrow morning let us play at polo;
I hear that none among the warriors
Can face thy mall on thine own ground.”
“O king!”
Said Siyáwush, “be fortunate and ever
Beyond the reach of ill! Kings look to thee
For teaching; who surpasseth thee? Day shineth
When I behold thee, from thee I accept
Both good and ill.”
Afrásiyáb replied:—
“My son! be ever glad and conquering.
Thou art a prince, the glory of the throne,
A royal crown and backbone of the host.”
In gallant trim. Then said Afrásiyáb
To Siyáwush: “Let us be opposites,
Select our partners, and make up our sides.”
He answered: “What will hand and mall avail?
I cannot play against thee. Take some other
As thine antagonist, I am thy partner—
One of thy horsemen on this spacious Ground.”
The monarch was delighted at his words,
Esteeming those of others only wind.
“Nay, by the life and head of Sháh Káús,”
Said he, “thou shalt be friend and opposite.
Display thy prowess to the cavaliers,
So that they may not say: ‘He chose amiss,’
But give thee praise while I laugh out with wonder.”
Then Siyáwush replied: “'Tis thine to bid:
The cavaliers, the Ground, and malls are thine.”
Afrásiyáb selected for his side
Kulbád,264
Púlád, Pírán, Jahn, Garsíwaz,
With Nastíhan the gallant, and Húmán,
Who would drive balls from water. Then the king
Sent over to the side of Siyáwush
Rúín, illustrious Shída, and Arjásp
The mounted Lion, and Andarímán
The doughty cavalier.264a
Said Siyáwush:—
“Ambitious king! will any of these dare
To face the ball? They side with thee, while I
Shall have to play alone and watch them too.
So with the king's leave I will bring to help me
A few Íránian players on the Ground
The monarch heard the words, gave his consent,
And from the Íránians Siyáwush chose seven
Well skilled. The tymbals sounded, dust arose,
While what with cymbal-clash and clarion-blare
Thou wouldst have said: “The ground is all a-quake!”
Afrásiyáb hit off and drove the ball
Up to the clouds just as it should be struck.
Then Siyáwush urged on his steed and smote
The ball, or ever it could reach the ground,
So stoutly that it disappeared from sight.
Thereat the exalted monarch bade his men
To give another ball to Siyáwush,
Who as he took it kissed it, and there rose
A flourish from the pipes and kettledrums.
He mounted a fresh steed, threw up the ball,
And drove it out of sight to see the moon.
Thou wouldst have said: “The sky attracted it.”
There was not on the ground his peer, and none
Had such a beaming face. The monarch laughed,
The nobles grew attentive and exclaimed:—
“We never saw a rider like this chief!”
The famous monarch said: “Of such a kind
Is each one gifted with the Grace of God;
But Siyáwush hath bettered all report.”
The attendants set a throne beside the Ground,
The monarch beaming sat down with the prince,
Are at your service.”
Then the Íránians played
A match with the Túránians. Dust flew up
With shouts as these or those bore off the ball;
But when the Turkmans played too angrily
In their endeavours to obtain a goal,
And when the Íránians intercepted them
So that the Turkmans' efforts were in vain,
Displeased with his own people Siyáwush
Cried to them in the olden Persian tongue:—
“Is this a playground, or would ye cause strife
In our dependent and precarious state?
When ye are near the limits look aside
And let the Turkmans have the ball for once.”
His horsemen rode more gently after this
And did not heat their steeds, then as the Turkmans
Were shouting for a goal Afrásiyáb
Perceived the purpose of the words, and said:—
“I have been told by one of mine own friends
That Siyáwush hath no peer in the world
For archery and might of neck and shoulder.”
Thereat the prince uncased his royal bow;
The monarch, having asked to see it first
That one of his own kin might prove its strength,
Regarded it with wonder, and invoked
Full many a royal blessing, then presented
The bow to Garsíwaz the sworder, saying:—
“Bend thou this bow and string it.”
That malignant
Failed, to his great amazement. Siyáwush
Bent it and strung it, smiling. Said the king:—
“With this one might shoot over sky and moon!
I too in days of youth had such a bow,
But times are changed, and no one in our lands
Would dare to grasp this bow when war is toward,
Save Siyáwush, and he with such a chest
And arms would wish none other on his charger.”
They placed a target on the riding-ground,
And Siyáwush, who challenged none to shoot,
Bestrode his wind-foot charger like a dív,
Gripped with his legs, and shouted as he went.
In sight of all the chiefs his arrow hit
The bull's eye. Then he set upon his bow
Another shaft, of poplar wood, four feathered,
And in the same course hit the second time.
Next wheeling to the right he hit the target
Just as he would. This being done he flung
The bow upon his arm, approached the king,
And lighted from his steed. The monarch rose:—
“Thy skill,” said he, “is witness to thy race.”
Returning to the lofty palace thence
They went with happy hearts as bosom-friends;
There took their seats, arranged a drinking-bout,
And summoned skilful minstrels to attend.
They quaffed no little wine, grew glorious,
And drank the health of Siyáwush. The king
While sitting at the board arranged a gift—
A horse and trappings, throne and diadem,
Uncut stuffs, such as none had seen before,
Gold coins, and silver coins in bags, turquoises,
Which brimmed with shining rubies. Then the king
Commanded to count up those precious gifts,
And certain of the dearest of his kinsmen
To bear them to the house of Siyáwush.
Thus said he to his troops: “In everything
Regard the prince as if he were your king.”
Afrásiyáb said to the prince: “Come with me
Some day a-hunting to refresh our hearts,
And banish all our troubles in the chase.”
“Whene'er thou wilt,” he answered, “whereso'er
Thy heart disposeth thee to lead the way.”
One day they went. The king took hawks and
cheetahs,
And many of Írán and of Túrán
Of all conditions hastened to the meet.
The prince spied onager upon the plain,
And, sped from his companions like the wind,
With reins held lightly and feet firmly pressed
He galloped o'er the hollows and the hills,
And, having cloven an onager in halves,
Made them the silver and his hands the scales,
And found the two sides equal to a grain.
The king and all his train watched eagerly,
Exclaiming: “What a noble swordsman this!”
And one man to another called and said:—
“Ill from Írán hath come on us erewhile,
And our brave leaders have been put to shame:
Now is the time to fight against the Sháh.”
But Siyáwush still chased his onagers
And spread destruction over all the plain.
He galloped over valley, hill, and waste,
Employing arrow, spear, and scimitar.
And killed enough for all the company.
Thence to the palace of Afrásiyáb
They took their way with gladness in their hearts.
The monarch in his pleasures and his griefs
Held intercourse with none but Siyáwush,
Confided not in Jahn and Garsíwaz,
Or other such; he took no joy in them,
But passed with Siyáwush his days and nights
In merriment. Thus while a year went by
They shared all griefs and pleasures equally.
One day Pírán conversed with Siyáwush
And in the course of talk said: “In this land
What man surpasseth thee? Our monarch's love
Doth make him talk of thee e'en in his sleep.
Know that thou art to him as jocund spring,
His idol, and the solace of his griefs.
Great art thou and the son of Kai Káús;
Thy many virtues raise thee to the moon;
Yet since thy sire is old, and thy heart young,
See that thou lose not the imperial throne.
Thou art a king both here and in Írán—
A noble monument of former monarchs—
Yet see I none, among thy blood-relations,
That looketh on thee with abundant love!
Throughout Túrán I find none fit to be
Thy peer, thy partner, or antagonist.
Thou hast no brother, wife, or sister; thou
Art like a single rose-branch in a coppice.
Look for a consort worthy of thyself,
And cease to sorrow and regret Írán;
It will be thine when Kai Káús is dead,
And thine will be the crown and warriors' throne.
The curtains of the king conceal three maidens,
All richly dight, such that the moon itself
Perforce must gaze upon, and Garsíwaz
Through Fárídún related to the Sháh,
With crowns and high estate. I too have four—
Slaves if thou wilt. The eldest-born—Jaríra—
Unmatched among the fair shall be thy handmaid.”
Then Siyáwush: “I give thee thanks. Henceforth
Regard me as thy son. She is the meetest
Because for me alliance with thy house
Is best. She will rejoice my soul and body:
I want none else; herein thou layest on me
A life-long obligation.”
When Pírán
Left Siyáwush he hasted to Gulshahr,
And said: “Prepare Jaríra's wedding outfit
In favour of the exalted Siyáwush.
Shall not we joy to-day when we receive
The grandson of Kubád as son-in-law?”
Gulshahr led forth her daughter, having set
A coronet upon the maiden's head,
Arrayed her with brocade, gold, drachms, dínárs,
Adorned and scented her like jocund spring,
And then presented her to Siyáwush.
They thus espoused her to the prince, and set her
Like a new moon upon the throne. None knew
Inlaid with gems. When Siyáwush beheld
Her face she pleased him, and he laughed for gladness.
He joyed in her by night and day; his heart
Forgot Káús.
Thus heaven revolved awhile,
And ever as time passed the atheling
Increased in rank and favour with the king.
The good Pírán said to the prince one day:—
“Thou knowest that the king our sovereign lord
Exalteth o'er the dome of heaven his crown,
And that by night and day thou art his soul,
His heart and intellect, his might and wisdom;
If thou shouldst be allied to him by marriage
Thou wouldst increase in greatness with each breath.
Now since my daughter hath become thy wife
I tender all thy interests great and small,
And though Jaríra hath much charm, and thou
Didst choose her out of all, it would become thee
To take a jewel from our monarch's skirt.
Of his fair daughters Farangís is best:
Thou wilt see nowhere else such face and hair.
She bettereth the cypress-tree in stature;
Her musky tresses form a sable crown;
Her parts and knowledge pass her loveliness,
While wisdom standeth as a slave before her.
Thou mayst well ask her of Afrásiyáb.
Where is a beauty like her in Kashmír,
Thy kinsman, and thy Grace and throne will shine.
With thy permission I will speak to him,
And thus win from him favour for myself.”
Then Siyáwush gazed on Pírán and said:—
“God's word must be fulfilled; none can withstand
Heaven's secret purpose. If I may not go
To see Írán, the face of Kai Káús,
Or Zál who was a foster-sire to me,
Or matchless Rustam—mine own jocund Spring—
Bahrám or Zanga son of Sháwarán,
Or Gív, Shápúr, or other mighty men,
If I must needs be severed from their sight,
And have to choose a home within Túrán,
Do as thou sayest and arrange a match,
But speak not of it save in privacy.”
While thus he spake he heaved a deep, cold sigh,
And filled the lashes of his eyes with tears.
Pírán made answer: “Every man of wisdom
Will let his circumstances rule his action.
Whence come our retributions, wars, and loves.
Grant that thou hadest friends within Írán:
Thou didst commend them unto God and leave them.
Thy house and home are here; the Íránian throne
Is not at present to be made thine own.”
Píran, thus having learned the prince's wishes
On all points, rose, proceeded to the court
In merry pin, dismounted, was admitted,
And stood awhile before Afrásiyáb,
Until the king, who loved him well, spake thus:—
“Why standest thou before me this long while?
What wish hast thou on earth? What is thy purpose?
My host, my treasures, and my gold are thine,
For me thou profitest in every thing.
If I have any prisoner in bonds,
Whom 'twould be grief and danger to release,
Yet will I take from him my chains and wrath,
And for thy sake turn anger into wind.
Ask what thou wilt—a great thing or a small,
E'en sword or signet, throne or diadem.”
The sage replied: “May this world praise thee ever!
As for myself, I have wealth, treasure, host,
And, by thy fortune, sword and crown and throne.
I bring in private for the royal car
A long suit on behalf of Siyáwush,
Who said: ‘Say to the monarch of Túrán:—
“I have grown blithe of heart and covet fame.
Thou like a sire hast reared me on thy breast
Till joy hath caused my fortune to bear fruit.
Extend thy kindness, make a match for me,
For I depend on thee in weal and woe.
Well worthy of my palace and my throne:
Her mother named her Farangís, and I
Shall find my pleasure in deserving her.”’”
Afrásiyáb grew grave, tears filled his eyes.
He said: “Concerning this I have already
Told thee my views, and thou didst not approve them.
A sage of lofty rede once said to me:—
‘O thou that fosterest a lion's whelp!
Why lay upon thy soul a fruitless task?
Thou toilest to complete his excellence,
But at his fruiting thou wilt cease to bear.
His fosterer will be the first to feel
His claws when he is strong enough to fight.’
Again, in presence of the mighty men,
Archmages learnéd in astrology
Took observations with their astrolabes,
And all gave utterance to the same effect
That my child's son would do me wondrous hurt,
Destroy my throne, my treasure, provinces,
My host, and palace, and that I should find
No place of refuge; he would seize the realm,
And by his deeds bring evil on my head.
Why should mine own hand plant a tree whose fruit
Is bane with colocynth for leaves? A child
Would prove a fierce flame or an ocean-wave.
I know not whether love will take the prince
Back to Írán, or fix all his regards
On us; but why drink poison wittingly?
One must not lightly take a serpent's breath.
While he remaineth he shall be a brother
To me, and if he goeth to Írán
I will dispatch him to his sire in state
On such wise as the All-just shall approve.”
Pírán replied: “O king! Let not thy heart
Be grieved hereat. Those born to Siyáwush
Will be possessed of wits, reserved, and shrewd.
Trust not what readers of the stars may say,
Deal with his case according to thy wisdom,
For from this noble pair a prince will spring,
Whose head will be exalted to the sun
As king both in Írán and in Túrán.
Then those two kingdoms will repose from strife.
The seed of Farídún and Kai Kubád
Will ne'er produce a more illustrious Plant,
While, if the sky shall purpose otherwise,
No taking thought will make it love him more.
What is to be will be beyond all doubt;
No caution minisheth what is to wax.
See what a glorious enterprise is this!
Ask what thou wilt of fortune and 'tis thine.”
Afrásiyáb replied: “Ill cometh never
Of thine advice. I order as thou wishest;
Depart and carry out thy kindly purpose.”
Pírán bent low, did reverence, gave great praise,
And so departed, came to Siyáwush,
And told him all. That night the joyful pair
Sat o'er their wine and from their souls washed care.
Displayed its head as 'twere a golden shield,
Pírán the chief girt up his loins and mounting
A swift steed rode toward the prince's palace
To wish him joy of his-high dignity,
And said to him: “Prepare thyself to-day
For welcoming the daughter of the king,
And if thou hold'st me worthy of the office
I will myself make ready to escort her.”
The prince was moved and blushed. He loved his
wife,
The daughter of Pírán, as his own heart
And soul, but said: “Go, do whate'er thou wilt:
Thou knowest that from thee I have no secrets.”
Pírán on hearing this went to his home
With heart and soul intent upon the business.
The door-key of the store-house where he kept
His uncut stuffs Pírán gave to Gulshahr,
Who was the chief wife of the paladin—
A lady much esteemed and bright of mind.
They chose the best things in the treasury—
A thousand lengths of cloth of gold from Chín,
With emerald-studded plates, cups of turquoise
Filled with fresh aloe-wood and musk-deer's glands,
Two crowns of jewels worthy of a king,
Two bracelets with two earrings and one torque;
Of carpets likewise sixty camel-loads,
Three sets of raiment made of cloth of gold
With patterns traced in gold of ruddier hue,
With divers kinds of jewels s??wn therein;
Of gold and silver thirty camel-loads,
With salvers and apparel made in Párs,
A golden throne, four seats, three pairs of shoes
With emeralds patterned on a golden ground,
(Thou wouldst have said: “The house will not contain
them!”),
Three hundred servants wearing crowns of gold,
About one hundred kinsmen of the king,
Each with one tray of musk and one of saffron:
These with Gulshahr together with her sisters,
In golden litters curtained with brocade,
Went in procession with the precious things.
The lady took a hundred thousand coins—
Dínárs—to fling among the crowd. They brought
The goods to Farangís and blessed her too.
Gulshahr then kissed the ground and said to her:
“The planet Venus mateth with the Sun.”
Pírán, for his part, and Afrásiyáb
Were instant on account of Siyáwush.
They gave the bride as custom and their Faith
Required, and had the contract duly witnessed.
As soon as they had finished pact and plight
Pírán dispatched a message to Gulshahr
Like smoke that she should go without delay
To Farangís to take her to the prince.
Thereon Gulshahr told happy Farangís
That she should go that night to Siyáwush,
And ornament his palace with a Moon.
She spake. They decked the bride at once and ranged
Her musky tresses o'er her rosy cheeks.
Then like a new moon Farangís approached
That youthful prince, the wearer of a crown.
Grew ever greater as the moments sped.
For one whole week slept neither fowl nor fish,
And no man went to rest; the earth became
A very garden through its whole extent
With sounds of minstrelsy and merriment.
Thus passed the sennight, then the king prepared
Great gifts of Arab steeds, sheep, coats of mail
Withal, helms, maces, lassos, and dínárs,
With purses full of drachms, suits of apparel,
And things both great and small. They drew a list
Of lands and cities 'twixt the sea of Chín
And their own march; the region was in length
A hundred leagues, its breadth no man could measure.
For all that sovereignty in royal fashion
They made the patent out on painted silk,
Which with a golden throne and golden crown
The king sent to the house of Siyáwush.
He next prepared the hall of banqueting,
And those that came to it from far and near
Found wine, and tables ready spread, and cooks;
Folks ??at, and whatsoever each could carry
He took away with him to his own home:
The monarch's guests thus passed a week in joy.
Exulting as the favourite of fortune.
The eighth day Siyáwush with brave Pírán
Approached the king at dawn for leave to go
To their own homes. Both offered compliments,
And said: “O gracious worldlord! may thy days
Be ever joyous and thy foes' backs bent.”
Thence they returned rejoicing and their talk
Was all about the monarch of the world.
Thus for a year in justice and in love
The circling heaven turned and brought no care;
Then from the presence of the monarch came
A friendly messenger to Siyáwush,
And said: “The king saith: ‘O illustrious chieftain!
I have bestowed upon thee all the realm
From here to Chín: go round and view the lands.
In any city where thou findest case,
Contentment, and no more to be desired,
Abide in gladness and prosperity;
Stint not thy soul one moment of delight.’”
Then Siyáwush, rejoicing at his words,
Struck up the pipes and drums, and packed the loads.
A host accompanied him on the way
With arms and treasure, signet-ring and crown.
They fitted many litters and arranged
The curtains for the ladies. In one litter
The prince placed Farangís and, having loaded
The baggage-train, led forth the company.
With all the famous men escorting them,
Because Pírán, that general favourite,
Was of that state, and Siyáwush had promised
To spend a month with him. The days were passed
In banqueting or in the hunting-field
Until the month was ended; then there rose
The din of drum at cock-crow, and the prince
Went to his realm, preceded by Pírán,
And followed by his troops. The news got wind,
And all the nobles sought their overlord.
They set forth from their homes with joyful heartș,
And, as the custom was, bedecked the land,
And there was such a bruit within that realm
That thou hadst said: “The earth is raised to heaven.”
Such were the din and blast of clarions
That thou hadst said: “All hearts leap from their
seats.”
They found one day a cultivated tract:
It was a goodly and well favoured site,
On one side mountains, on another sea.
Upon a third side was a hunting-ground,
Secluded, full of trees and rivulets—
A place to make the old heart young again.
Then to Pírán spake Siyáwush and said:—
“See what a noble site these fields afford:
Here will I fashion me a goodly seat
To be my heart's delight, a spacious city
Containing palace, hall, and pleasure-grounds;
I will exalt the buildings to the moon,
And make them worthy of the crown and throne.”
Pírán replied: “O thou of goodly rede:
Accomplish all that thy heart purposeth.
I will erect a moon-attaining seat;
I ask thee not for treasure or for lands,
And for thy sake reck not of time or place.
And Siyáwush rejoined: “O blesséd one
Thou bring'st the tree of greatness into fruit.
Thine are my weal and wealth; I notice first
In every place thy toil on mine account.
I will erect a city on this ground
Such that beholders shall remain astound.”
I open now the door of history—
The charming record of the days of yore—
To speak of Gang-i-Siyáwush to thee,
The city, and the city's ancient lore.
Praise be to Him by Whom the world was wrought,
The Maker of the unknown and the known,
The Lord of being and not being; aught
Besides hath peers, but God is One alone.
Praiso to the Prophet, and to those who bore
Him company our praises be addressed,
And since the righteous flourish here no more
Speak not of taking this world for thy rest.
Where are the heads and crowns of kings of kings?
Where are the gallant, noble athelings?
Where are the doctors and the scientists?
Where are the labour-bearing annalists?
And gently uttered words of graciousness?
Where is the nestling of the mountain-height,
Inured to scorn, discomfort, and distress?
Where he that touched the cloud-rack with his head,
And whither is the lion-hunter gone?
They have but bricks and dust to form their bed,
And he that sowed good seed is blest alone.
From dust we come and shall return to dust,
And all is dread, distraction, and distrust.
The world will outlast thee; its mysteries
How wilt thou ken? 'Tis full of instances;
Shall we ignore them? Six and sixty years
Hast thou been scheming: turn thy face away
From toil and emulation. Thy compeers
Left thee in multitudes while thou didst stay
A greedy hand upon the world to lay,
And shalt thou not at last be e'en as they?
List to the story of a bygone day.
Since earth is void of those illustrious men
Why should ambition's crown be sought by thee?
In their days justice ruled the world, and then
Earth flourished under their supremacy.
So listen to the tale that I shall tell
About Gang-dizh, and see thou mark it well,
Because the world hath not in any part
Another place so grateful to the heart
As that which Siyáwush built up of yore,
And no small travail in its structure bore.
There is a wilderness across the sea—
An arid waste. Beyond it is a land
Inhabited, whose cities furnish thee
With all provision ready to thy hand.
Unmatched in loftiness, and thereupon
Gang-dizh. It is no hurt for thee to know
That 'tis one hundred leagues around below,
And eyes that look aloft are dazed anon.
Explore and thou wilt still be at a loss
To find the way of access to the place;
The rock is three and thirty leagues across,
Presenting everywhere a solid face.
If only one man harnessed for the fray
Were stationed for each league, to find a way
A hundred thousand men would not avail
On barded steeds and clad themselves in mail.
A spacious city next will meet thine eye
With rose-beds, gardens, open space, and hall,
Stream, river, and hot baths, while minstrelsy,
Perfume, and brilliant hues pervade it all.
The hills are stocked with game, the plains with deer.
Once having seen it thou wilt tarry here,
And in thy rambles o'er the higher ground
Will pheasants, peacocks, partridges be found.
No winter's frosts to summer's heats succeed,
There is no lack of food, repose, or mirth,
Thou wilt not see a single invalid;
In short it is a paradise on earth.
The water here is wholesome, clear, and bright,
The whole champaign in vernal garb is dight.
Its length and breadth have thirty leagues extent
According to the Persian measurement,
And one league and a half in altitude:
'Twould weary any one to scale the height,
And when the place is from the summit viewed
None ever saw a scene more exquisite.
When Siyáwush had visited the place
He chose it out of all Túrán to bear
And some material to us unknown,
A wall above one hundred cubits high
And eight and thirty broad; the hold out-ranged
Both shaft and catapult, but thou shouldst see
The place itself, for one that hath not seen it
Will, thou wouldst say, be angry with the poet.
The prince endured much hardship thereabout
All for the sake of greatness, throne, and crown,
And made himself in that delightful spot
A charming seat with palace, hall, and park.
He planted many trees, and made the place
Like Paradise, and for its flowers chose
Narcissus, tulip, hyacinth, and rose.
The noble Siyáwush went with Pírán
One day to see the place whereof the sight
Would make the agéd young. It was delightful,
With treasuries everywhere fulfilled with wealth;
And this imperial seat pleased Siyáwush
More than all other seats of kings and nobles.
When they were leaving Siyáwush was sad,
Secure me Grace and fortune, or shall I
Regret what I have done?”
They all replied:—
“This place will not prove very fortunate.”
The prince was angry with the astrologers;
His heart was full of pain, his eyes shed tears;
His hand relaxed his swift-paced courser's reins,
And hot tears trickled down. Pírán exclaimed:—
“My lord! what is the cause of this distress?”
“High heaven.” he said, “hath filled my heart and soul
With pain and trouble, since what I amass,
My home, and treasury, will be my foe's
At last. Ill will be ill and I shall die.
The fairest spot in this world is Gang-dizh
Where by the Grace of Him Who giveth good
My wisdom and my fortune have not slept,
And I have raised the summit to the Pl??iads.
Still am I busy gathering works of art,
But when the place is decked, and precious things
Abound, mine own enjoyment will be short;
Another will be seated in this palace.
The joy is not for me, or for my child,
Or hero of my race. My life will close
Ere long; I shall not want a hall or palace.
Afrásiyáb will have this for his throne,
And death will overtake me for no fault
Of mine. Such is the mystéry of heaven
With its vicissitudes of joy and grief!”
Vain thoughts, Afrásiyáb safe-guardeth thee,
And on thy finger is a royal signet.
I also, while my soul is in my body,
Will strive to keep my faith to thee unbroken;
I will not let the wind pass over thee.
Or breezes tell the hairs upon thy head.”
Then Siyáwush: “O honourable man!
I see that honour is thy one desire.
Thou knowest all the secrets that I have,
Thou who art shrewd of heart and sound of limb!
Now will I tell thee by the Grace of God
What I have learned of heaven's purposes,
And advertise thee what will be hereafter
When I am gone from halls and palaces,
So that thou mayst not, seeing such, exclaim:—
‘Why were they not disclosed to Siyáwush?’
Pírán, thou warrior exceeding wise!
Hear what I say; no lengthy time will pass
Ere by the hand of our shrewd-hearted monarch
I shall, though guiltless, cruelly be slain.
Another will possess this crown and throne.
Thou wilt prove just and true, but heaven's purpose
May not be thwarted. By a slanderer's words,
And evil fate, my blameless head will suffer.
Írán will be in conflict with Túrán,
Revenge will make life wretched, and the earth
Will be in travail through its length and breadth;
The scimitar of feud will rule the age.
Thou wilt see many standards from Írán
Approach Túrán—red, yellow, black, and violet—
With ravaging and bearing off of spoil,
And scattering of treasures. Provinces
In plenty will be trampled underfoot
Of horses, and the streams of water fouled.
Both of his words and works, but penitence
Will not avail when homesteads are in flames.
Both here and in Írán will be the din
Of war, and my blood will convulse the world.
Thus hath the Almighty written in the sky
By Whose decree seed sown will bear its fruit.…
Come, let us give ourselves to joy and feast:
When it is time for us to pass we pass.
Why set thy heart upon this Wayside Inn?
Why toy with treasure? Why complain of toil?
Our wealth will be another's. Why should one,
Because he is a king, enrich his foe?”
Whenas Pírán had heard and taken thought
His heart was filled with trouble at these words.
He said: “I have brought evil on myself
If this that he hath spoken be the truth.
I drew him to the country of Túrán,
And scattered through the world the seeds of feud.
I drew him to Túrán by mine own efforts,
And gave to him a province, crown, and wealth,
Not recking of the king's repeated warnings.”
And then his loving heart suggested this:—
“Who hath revealed to him these mysteries—
The motions and the purpose of the sky?
He surely must be thinking of Írán,
Of Kai Káús, and of the imperial throne;
It is the memory of happier days.”
Pírán with these words solaced his own heart,
And entered on no prudent policy.
Then lighting from their steeds they ceased from
talk,
And, having had a golden table dressed,
Wine, harp, and minstrelsy were in request.
They thus passed seven days in merriment,
Discoursing of the monarchs of the world.
The eighth day came a letter from the king
To bid Pírán: “Choose from the warriors
A host and go toward the sea of Chín.
Thence cross the marches to the river Sind,
Demand the tribute from the provinces,
And over-run the borders of Khazar.”
Then from the portal of the paladin
Shouts rose, while drums and tymbals shook the ground,
And troops from all sides gathered round Pírán—
A mighty army eager for the fray.
Whenas the troops had mustered at his gate
He bade farewell and marched, while Siyáwush,
Rich in dínárs and goods of every kind,
With well appointed steeds, remained behind.
A cameleer brought from Afrásiyáb,
In hottest haste about the time of sleep,
To Siyáwush a letter full of love,
And blazoned like the starry sky: it ran:—
“Since thy departure I enjoy no pleasure,
My thoughts permit me not a moment's peace.
Moreover I have sought thee out a seat,
Such as thou wilt approve, within Túrán.
Though it be pleasant whither thou hast gone,
The heads of evil-wishers to the dust.”
The chieftain packed the baggage and set forth
With all speed as the king commanded him.
A thousand female camels with red hair
They loaded up with various merchandise.
He made a hundred camels carry treasures
And drachms, while forty others bore dínárs.
Ten thousand swordsmen went along with him—
Picked horsemen from Írán and from Túrán—
Preceded by the baggage-train and litters
With lovely ladies in their bravery.
Of rubies and turquoises fit for kings,
Or torques and diadems inlaid with gems,
Of ambergris, of aloe-wood, and musk,
Of spicery, brocade, and silken cushions,
From Párs and Chín and Mizr were thirty loads.
The leader and his noble retinue
Proceeded till they came to blithe Bahár.
When he arrived he pointed out a site
Two leagues in length and breadth. Thereon he built
A city famous for its rosaries,
Its lofty palaces, and orchard-grounds.
He limned within the hall full many a picture
Of kings, of battle, and of banqueting,
And painted there Káús with mace and armlets,
Crowned on his throne, with elephantine Rustam,
With Zál, Gúdarz, and all that company.
Elsewhere he limned Afrásiyáb, his army,
Pírán, and Garsíwaz the vengeful one.
That pleasant city was the talk of all
Good men both in Írán and in Túrán.
Whose summit reached the clouds. There minstrels
sat
And sang while chiefs and warriors kept guard
Around. Siyáwushgird the common voice
Called it; that city made all hearts rejoice.
Now when Pírán returned from Hind and Chín
All men were talking of the glorious city,
For, founded on the auspicious day of Ard,
Siyáwushgird was famed throughout Túrán.
He heard of palace, orchard, garden, hall,
Plain, streamlet, hill, and dale, and longed to see
What Siyáwush had done with that fine site.
Pírán took with him all his retinue—
A thousand wise and valiant warriors—
Men fit to share with him in the rejoicings.
On his approach the prince went with the host
To welcome him. Pírán on catching sight
Of Siyáwush alighted, as did Siyáwush,
Who clasped him closely. Coming to the city
They went around what erst had been a thorn-brake,
But then lamp-bright with palace, hall, and pleasance.
The chief Pírán went everywhere, invoked
Full many a blessing on the prince, and said:—
“If Grace and royal height and wisdom too
Were not thine own in this thine undertaking
How could results like these have been achieved?
Be this thy monument among the brave
And noble till the Resurrection-day,
World-lords triumphant and magnanimous.”
Pírán surveyed part of that jocund city,
Then reached the hall and grounds of Siyáwush,
And in high spirits and ambitious hopes
Proceeded to the home of Farangís.
The daughter of the king met, greeted him,
And proffered him a handsel of dínárs.
When, seated on the throne, he looked around,
And saw the crowds of servants standing by,
He uttered many words of thankfulness,
And praised the Maker; then they fell to feasting
With wine, cup-bearers, meats, and minstrelsy,
And thus they passed a sennight wine in hand,
Now blithe and joyous-hearted, now bemused.
On the eighth day Pírán produced the presents
Brought from abroad, and other fitting gifts
Of rubies, royal jewelry, dínárs,
Brocade, crowns all inlaid with precious stones,
And steeds with golden furniture, the saddles
Of poplar-wood, their pummels leopard-skin.
He gave a coronet to Farangís,
With earrings, bracelets, and a jewelled torque,
Then went upon his way toward Khutan
In order to attend his sovereign.
On reaching home he spake thus to Gulshahr:—
“Whoe'er hath seen not jocund Paradise,
And known what things Rizwán288
hath planted there,
Should see this splendid place, this paradise
Of thrones and palaces, where Siyáwush,
Inside the palace of the blest Surúsh.
Allow thyself the pleasure of a visit;
The lord is goodlier than his city; thou
Wouldst say: ‘He lighteth up the Occident!’
See Farangís—all loveliness and lustre,
As 'twere a two weeks' moon beside the sun.”
Swift as a bark that speedeth o'er the sea
He went thence to Afrásiyáb, and told
What he had done, what tribute he had brought,
How he had battled in the land of Hind,
And laid ill-doers' heads upon the dust.
The monarch asked how Siyáwush had prospered,
And of his city, province, crown, and throne.
Pírán replied: “Whoever shall behold
The springtide-gaiety of Paradise
May in good sooth mistake this place for that,
And this illustrious monarch for the sun.
I saw a city such that none will see
Its like on earth in Chín or in Túrán.
What with its wealth of gardens, halls, and streams,
Thou wouldst have said: ‘There wisdom mixed with
mind!’
One must dismiss fault-finding where is naught
To blame. When from afar I saw the palace
Of Farangís 'twas like a hoard of jewels
As bright as light. If now Surúsh should come
From Paradise he would not have the Grace,
The majesty, the common sense, the splendour,
And ordered usance of thy son-in-law,
Who is as good as thy glad heart would wish.
Restored to reason. Mayst thou ever have
The rede of princes and the heart of sages.”
The monarch gladdened at the words on hearing
That this his Bough of promise was in bearing.
Afrásiyáb made known to Garsíwaz
Pírán's account without suppressing aught,
And said: “Go blithely to Siyáwushgird,
And scan it well. The heart of Siyáwush
Is on Túrán; he thinketh not of home
Now that he hath farewelled the throne and crown,
Farewelled Gúdarz, Bahrám, and Kai Káús.
He looketh not to Rustam son of Zál,
Nor taketh mace or battle-ax in hand,
But hath erected, where was once a field
Of thorns, a city like the jocund spring,
Hath raised a lofty dwelling-place therein
For Farangís, and holdeth her in honour.
Prepare to visit noble Siyáwush,
Say little when thou seest him on the throne,
But judge him from a monarch's point of view
At chase, at wine, on mountain or on plain,
And in assemblies, show him all respect
Before his nobles and exalt his name.
Prepare for him exceeding many gifts
Of horses and dínárs, of crowns and girdles,
And armlets, maces, swords, and signet-rings,
With carpeting and trinkets of all kinds.
See what thou findest in the treasury,
And take besides a gift for Farangís.
Go thou with naught but praises on thy tongue,
And, shouldst thou find a joyous, smiling host,
Abide two sennights in that jocund city.”
Thereat the noble Garsíwaz selected
A thousand cavaliers, men of repute,
To go with all speed to Siyáwushgird.
The prince when news arrived went forth with troops
To welcome Garsíwaz; the two embraced
And Siyáwush inquired about the king,
Then going back provided for his guests.
Next morning early Garsíwaz drew nigh
And brought the monarch's message and the gifts.
When Siyáwush saw what Afrásiyáb
Had sent ??im he was like a rose in spring;
Then mounting on his proudly stepping steed,
And followed by the Íránian cavaliers,
Took Garsíwaz about the place, and when
He had shown all went to his home again.
At that time came to Siyáwush like wind
A cavalier who brought good tidings, saying:—
“The daughter of the captain of the host
Hath borne a babe as 'twere the shining moon—
A glorious child, whom they have named Farúd,
And when Pírán at night received the news
‘Go bear the joyful tidings to the prince.’
The mother also of the precious babe—
Jaríra, chief among the high-born dames—
Commanded from her couch the slaves to smear
The infant's hand with saffron, and to take
The impression on this letter's back, and said:—
‘Bear this to Siyáwush, whose wish is granted,
And tell him: “Stricken though I be in years,
Yet notwithstanding God hath made me glad.”’”
Then Siyáwush thus answered: “May this babe
Ne'er leave the seat of majesty unfilled!”
And gave the messenger so many drachms
That he who bare them wearied of the weight.
When Garsíwaz had heard the news he said:—
“Pírán to-day is equal to a king.”
They sought the house of Farangís with joy
And told her those glad tidings. Garsíwaz
Beheld her sitting on her ivory throne,
A crown set with turquoise was on her head,
While many slaves with golden caps were standing
With moon-like cheeks in presence of the Moon.
She came down from her throne and, greeting him,
Inquired about his longsome journey's toil;
But Garsíwaz was wroth, was wholly changed,
And thus he thought: “Let but a year pass thus
And Siyáwush will care for nobody;
Throne, kingdom, host, and treasure will be his.”
He writhed but hid his feelings, and exclaimed
With pallid cheeks to Siyáwush: “Thou hast
The fruit of toil, enjoy the gains for life!”
They took their seats within the golden hall
Upon two jewelled thrones of gold, rejoicing
In fortune; minstrels and cup-bearers came,
Of minstrelsy, forgot his own chagrin.
Now when the bright sun made the distance clear,
And showed its face from heaven to all the land,
The prince went from his palace to the Ground
To play at polo. Garsíwaz came up
And drove the ball, which Siyáwush pursued
And caught it fairly with the polo-stick,
While his opponent only found the dust.
The ball struck by the prince was seen no more:
Thou wouldst have said: “The sky hath drawn it up!”
Then to his eager followers he said:
“I leave the ball and sticks and Ground to you.”
Whenas the warriors came upon the Ground
The Íránians in the tussle took the ball,
While Siyáwush rejoiced at their success,
And looked as 'twere a noble cypress-tree.
He bade a golden throne be set and contests
With javelins to take place, both princes sitting
Upon the throne to watch the combatants.
The cavaliers rushed on the Ground like dust
And, dart in hand, began to strive for honour.
Then Garsíwaz spake thus to Siyáwush:—
“O king renowned, the Memory of kings!
Thy prowess is still greater than thy birth:
Vouchsafe to let the Turkmans witness it:
Can'st do in javelin-play and archery.”
The prince, who laid his hand upon his breast
At this, arose and mounted on his horse.
They bound together coats of mail five thick—
Coats any one of which would tire a man—
And set them up at one end of the Ground,
While all the troops stood looking. Siyáwush
Took up a royal spear wherewith his father
Fought in Mázandarán and slaughtered lions.
He went upon the Ground, this spear in hand,
And plied his reins like some mad elephant.
He pierced the coats of mail and bore them off,
The links and joints alike had given way.
The charge thus made he raised his spear erect
And flung the coats of mail about at will.
Then valiant Garsíwaz and other horsemen
Went on the Ground with their long javelins,
And many gathered round those coats of mail,
But found not one whose fastenings had not yielded.
The prince then called for four shields of Gílán,
With two cuirasses also of bright steel,
And likewise for his bow and poplar shafts.
With six thrust through his belt and three in hand
He set another on his bow and gripped
His saddle firmly. Then in sight of all
He shot the ten shafts, piercing every time
The shields and both cuirasses. Old and young
Applauded and invoked the name of God.
“Thou hast, O prince!” said Garsíwaz to him,
“No equal in Írán or in Túrán.
Come now! Let us two go upon the Ground
Before this company, there let us grasp
Each other's leathern belt as warriors
Would do in battle. I have not a peer
Among the Turkmans, thou wilt see few steeds
Art matchless both in prowess and in stature.
If I shall take thee from thy charger's back,
And throw thee to the ground, acknowledge me
Superior both in prowess and in might,
While if thou layest me upon the earth
I wheel no more upon the battlefield.”
But Siyáwush made answer: “Speak not thus.
Thou art a prince, a Lion of the fray;
Besides thy charger is a king to mine,
Thy helmet is Ázargashasp to me.
Make choice of some one else out of Túrán
To strive with me, but not by way of fight.”
Then Garsíwaz: “O seeker of renown!
No harm will come of pastime such as this.”
But Siyáwush replied: “It is not well:
I cannot fight thee. Two opposed in sport
Fight on in earnest; anger filleth them
Although they smile. Thou art the monarch's brother,
And tread'st the moon beneath thy horse's hoofs;
I will perform thy bidding but not break
Our good relations by an act like this.
Call from thy friends some Lion of the fray,
Let him be mounted on this swift-paced steed,
And if thou art resolved that I should fight,
And lay the heads of proud ones in the dust,
I will endeavour not to be disgraced
Before thy presence, O illustrious prince!”
Ambitious Garsíwaz was flattered, smiled,
And thus addressed the Turkmans: “Noble men!
Who is there fain to make his mark on earth?
Who will be matched with Siyáwush and lay
The chief of all the nobles in the dust!”
The Turkmans heard him and their lips were locked.
At length Gurwí the son of Zira said:—
“I am prepared to fight if Siyáwush
Hath no antagonist.”
Was full of frowns and sternness at the words,
But Garsíwaz said unto him: “O prince!
No warrior in our host can match Gurwí.”
Then Siyáwush: “I hold it but a trifle
To fight with any noble but thyself:
Two warriors should be chosen out of these
To strive with me upon the battlefield.”
There was another noble hight Damúr,
Who had no equal in Túrán in strength.
He, when he heard the words of Siyáwush,
Came and made ready swift as smoke for fight.
They wheeled about, and Siyáwush began
By snatching at the girdle of Gurwí,
And holding by the buckle lifted him
And flung him on the plain, but used no mace
Or lasso. Then he turned upon Damúr
And, catching him about the neck and body
In firm embrace, unhorsed him with such ease
That all the chiefs were lost in wonderment.
The prince thus bore him safe to Garsíwaz;
Thou wouldst have said: “He carrieth a bird!”
Then, having lighted down and disengaged,
He sat down laughing on the golden throne;
But Garsíwaz was wroth at that exploit;
His heart was sullen and his che??k was pale.
They hied them homeward from their golden seats,
“Raised,” thou hadst said, “o'er Saturn in the ascendant,”
And all the famous men and fortunate
Assembled for a week with harp and wine.
Upon the eighth day they prepared to go,
And Siyáwush in spite of what he kn??w
Yet wrote a letter to Afrásiyáb,
Full of submission and kind interest,
And gave unstinted gifts to Garsíwaz;
Anon the Turkmans left that noble city
Rejoicing, and conversed about the land
And most accomplished prince; but Garsíwaz
For from Írán the king hath summoned one
Who causeth us to sit in blood disgraced.
Fierce Lions like Damúr and like Gurwí—
Both battle-loving warriors—became
Thus abject, helpless, and contemptible
When clutched by one foul-hearted cavalier.
He will push matters further, and I fail
To see in our king's actions head or tail.”
He went thus minded to the Turkman court
Without repose or sleep. Afrásiyáb
Asked many questions which his brother answered
And gave the letter; this the smiling king
Perused with joy. The famous noble marked
The brightened features of Afrásiyáb,
And sunset found him all revenge and anguish.
All night he writhed and when its pitch-hued robe
Was riven by clear day his vengeful head
Still slept not, and he sought Afrásiyáb.
They sat and talked in private. Garsíwaz
Said to his brother: “Siyáwush, O king!
Hath wholly changed, the envoys of Káús
Come often secretly, he correspondeth
With Rúm and Chín, and drinketh to his father.
And soon will v??x the king's soul. Had not Túr
Become so fierce he had not wronged Íraj,
But now our hearts resemble fire and water
Opposed; thou wouldest, but in vain, unite them,
And keep the tempest hidden out of sight.
Had I withheld this trouble from thy knowledge
I should have smirched my name before the world.”
The king was grieved and said to Garsíwaz:—
“The bond of blood between us moveth thee.
We will take counsel with ourself three days
For more assurance; if the case be clear
It shall be thy part to undo the coil.”
The fourth day Garsíwaz appeared at court
With helmet on and tightly girded loins.
The monarch called him to an interview,
Talked much about the case of Siyáwush,
And said: “O thou memorial of Pashang!
Whom have I in the world at hand but thee?
I must disclose the secret of my mind;
Observe what thoughts occur to thine. My heart
Was troubled at that evil dream, my brain
Affected somewhat, yet I kept from war,
And Siyáwush for his part hurt me not.
When he farewelled the throne of might he made
My love the weft across his wisdom's warp.
He was obedient and I used him well.
I gave to him a province and my treasure,
But kept my griefs and sorrows for mine own.
I bound him to me by the ties of blood,
Foregoing thoughts of vengeance on Írán,
But trusted him with both my precious Eyes.
Now, after all these pains and benefits,
And sacrifice of province, crown, and wealth,
For me to purpose ill to Siyáwush
Would raise no little outcry. If I do
An injury however slight to him
The mighty men will cry out shame on me,
And I shall be a butt for every one.
Of beasts the lion hath the sharpest teeth,
His heart is not afraid of scimitars,
And if a whelp of his shall be aggrieved
He will lay all the meadow desolate;
Moreover if we persecute the guiltless
How shall the Judge of sun and moon approve?
I know none else that I can take to me,
Yet now I will dismiss him to his father.
So, if he seeketh throne and signet-ring,
He will not make our coasts the scene of strife.”
But Garsíwaz: “O king! treat not so lightly
This grave affair. If he departeth home
He will bring desolation on our coasts,
For when an alien is made a kinsman
He learneth all thy secrets great and small.
A sage once spake a proverb as to this:—
‘Domestic storms that burst externally
Will prove but travail and distress to thee,
And dissipate wealth, fame, and family.’
Will get no recompense but pain and strife?”
Afrásiyáb, when he had mused awhile
And thought that Garsíwaz had spoken rightly,
Repenting of his own advice and conduct,
And owning that his policy had failed,
Thus answered Garsíwaz: “From this affair
I see no good appear in any way.
Let us be patient till the turning sky
Shall make its aspects known. In everything
Delay is better than precipitance;
Wait till the sun hath shone on this awhile;
I shall discern God's purpose, and to whom
The bright cheek of revolving heaven is turned,
And then if I recall him to the court
I shall discover what his secret is.
All will no doubt be clear in course of time,
And if his villainy be manifest,
So that my heart must needs be pitiless,
No one will blame me afterward, for naught
But evil fitly recompenseth evil.”
Then vengeful Garsíwaz: “Discerning king,
Whose words are righteous! Siyáwush possesseth
Grace, stature, maces, swords, and god-like hands;
He will not come to court without a host,
But make both sun and moon turn dark to thee.
He is much changed, his crown is raised to heaven,
And Farangís thou wouldst not recognize,
But say: ‘This world can give her nothing more.’
Thy troops will all go over to his side,
And when there is no flock there is no shepherd.
An army having seen a king like him,
So generous, so beaming, and so wise,
Thenceforth would never have thee for their king;
The Ram would be his throne and thine the Fish.
Moreover wilt thou call on him to quit
The noble city and the prosperous seat
Content with meanness and obscurity?’
None seeth lions couch with elephants,
Or flames upon the surface of a stream.
If one should take a lion's whelp unsuckled
As yet, should bring it up on milk and sugar,
And nurse it on his bosom constantly,
It will revert to nature when full-grown
And fear no furious elephant's assault.”
The monarch's heart was straitened at his words;
He grew despondent, anxious, and distressed,
But judged it best to pause, for prudent men
Win in the end, while those of windy pate
Obtain no praise. A wise man spake this saw:—
“A tempest that hath not been unforeseen
Thou mayst encounter with untroubled mien,
While Feather-brains will be in evil plight
Albeit cypress-tall and men of might.”
Unrest and talk went on; their hearts were full
Of vengeance for the wrongs of ancient days,
For ever and anon came Garsíwaz—
The villain full of malice—to the king,
Concocting lying tales of Siyáwush,
And stirring the Túránian monarch's heart,
Until he was possessed by care and vengeance.
One day the king in private conference
With Garsíwaz declared his purposes,
And said: “Thou must go hence. Hold intercourse
With Siyáwush for long, then speak him fairly
From me, and say: ‘Thou in thy happy home
Hast no desire to look on any one;
Arise! Come hither, thou and Farangís,
Awhile, because we yearn to look upon thee,
With thy shrewd mind so full of excellence.
We too have game upon our hills, we too
Quaff wine and milk in cups of emerald.
Thus let us pass a season and be glad,
And, when thou longest for thy prosperous city,
Go thou with singing and with happiness.
Why are the wine and cup denied to us?
Think not about thy throne of majesty,
But straitly gird thy loins and come to me.’”
The crafty, vengeful Garsíwaz made ready.
When he drew near Siyáwushgird he bade
A fluent speaker: “Go to Siyáwush
And say: ‘Famed son of an aspiring sire!
By our king's life and head, and by the life,
The head, and royal crown of Sháh Káús,
Leave not thy throne to meet me on the way,
Because thou art so great in dignity,
In fortune, Grace, crown, throne, and lineage,
That every wind should have to gird its loins
To make thee quit that royal dwelling-place.’”
The messenger approaching kissed the ground
And told the words of Garsíwaz; the heart
Of Siyáwush was pained, he sat and mused
Awhile, then said: “Here is some mystery!
I know not what my good friend Garsíwaz
Hath said about me to Afrásiyáb.”
When Garsíwaz arrived the prince went out
Afoot to him, asked of the king's affairs,
Of throne and crown and host, and Garsíwaz
Rejoice, and thus he said: “For his dear sake
I would not turn away from swords of steel.
Lo! I will bind my girdle on to go,
And link my rein to thine; but we will tarry
Within this pleasance arabesqued with gold
Three days and hold a revel, for this world
Is fleeting by in pain and toil. Alas
For him whose little life is passed in sorrow!”
Revengeful Garsíwaz writhed when he heard
The prudent prince's words: “If Siyáwush,”
He thought, “departeth with me to the king,
With his astuteness and his lion-strength
The prince will trample on my bow, my words
Will tarnish, and the king will deem my plan
A fraud; I must devise a scheme to urge
The heart of Siyáwush to evil courses.”
He fixed an earnest gaze on Siyáwush
In silence, while his eyes shed tears of gall
To further his intent. The prince beheld
Those swimming eyes as of one greatly moved,
And gently said: “My brother! what is this?
Is it a nameless grief, or hath the king
By his unkindness caused thy tears to flow?
Lo! I will go along with thee and fight
Thy battle with the monarch of Túrán,
Will find out why he useth thee so ill,
And treateth thee as his inferior,
While if it is an open enemy
That causeth thee insufferable grief
And trouble, lo: I am thy friend in all,
And will provide thee with the means to fight.
But if the royal favour is bedimmed,
Not by thy fault but through some slanderer's lies,
Or one hath ousted thee, confide in me,
And purge the monarch of his faults herein.”
But Garsíwaz replied: “O man of fame!
It is no question with me of the king,
Nor am I troubled by a foe. My courage
And wealth dispense with schemes. I mused on
questions
Of race, and called to mind true tales of old;
The wrong began with Túr who lost the Grace,
And made feud with Íraj, who did not brawl.
Beneath Afrásiyáb and Minúchihr
Túrán hath been like water and Írán.
Like fire; they mingled not but broke away
From wisdom's bonds; Afrásiyáb is worse
Than Túr; this wild bull still is in his hide.
In truth thou knowest not his evil moods,
But wait until a little time hath passed.
First judge him by the guiltless Ighríras,
His brother in full blood, whom he destroyed
With his own hand in very wantonness,
While afterward full many a famous man
Was slaughtered by him for no fault at all.
My chief anxiety is now for thee,
For thou art shrewd of heart and stout of frame,
And, since thou earnest to our land, hast done
No wrong to any, but adorned the world
With wisdom, seeking right and manliness.
Malignant Áhriman, who parteth hearts,
Hath seared the king's through thee, and it is all
But thou dost know me as thy friend, thy partner
In weal and woe, and thou must not suspect
Hereafter that I knew of all this coil.
I therefore tell thee of the monarch's case,
Which it had been a fault in me to hide.”
Then Siyáwush: “Have no concern hereat,
The Maker of the world is mine ally;
I did hope otherwise than that the king
Would turn my day to night; had he been wroth
With me he had not raised me over others,
Or given me a province, crown, and throne,
Domain, his daughter, treasure, and a host.
Now will I go with thee to court and make
His dim moon shine again. Where'er truth shineth
The light of falsehood waneth. I will show him
This heart of mine, a heart that doth outshine
The sun in heaven. Be happy then, reject
Suspicion, for whoever suffereth
That dragon's breath departeth from God's way.”
But Garsíwaz made answer: “My dear friend!
He is much changed. So long as heaven shall turn
He will be harsh and wear a frowning face.
Not e'en the wisest knoweth of the wiles
That lift on his horizon. Thou thyself,
With all thy learning and thy prudent heart,
Thy towering stature and high purposes,
Discernest not ‘twixt artifice and love:
May no ill fortune ever come to thee!
He dealt in charms and spells with thee, and sewed
The eyes of wisdom up by his devices.
Was ill advised. Next when he sent thee forth
He made a feast for thee, and called his lords,
In hope that thou wouldst take some liberty,
And give occasion to the world to talk.
Besides thou art not closer unto him
By any ties than prudent Ighríras,
Whom he cut down, and filled the nobles’ hearts
With terror. Since his purposes are clear,
Accept the fact; trust not the ties of blood.
Now like the shining sun have I displayed
My thoughts, my trade, and wit. Thou hast rejected
A father in Írán, and in Túrán
Hast builded cities, yielding to the words
And sharing in the troubles of the king.
It is an ill tree that thy hand hath planted,
With poisonous fruit and leaves of colocynth.”
He spake deceitfully with running eyes
And sighing lips, while Siyáwush in tears,
Regarding him with wonder, called to mind
His own sad fate that heaven's love should cease,
And that though young his life was well nigh sped.
His heart was pained, his cheeks turned pale, he sighed
In heaviness of soul, and said: “I find not
That I deserve requital for ill done,
For nobody hath heard a fault of mine
His treasure my heart is wrung at his displeasure,
But come what may I never will transgress
His wishes or commands. “Now let me go
With thee, without an escort, and discover
The reason of the anger of the king.”
Then Garsíwaz replied: “Aspiring one!
It is not well to go. No need to walk
Thus into fire, or to expose thyself
To breakers; 'tis but rushing into danger,
And sending smiling destiny to sleep;
I surely shall suflice to mediate
And fling cold water on the flames; but write
A letter telling all things fair or foul,
And if I find him free from vengeful thoughts,
And in a lucid interval of good,
I will dispatch a cavalier and make
Thy gloomy counsels bright. I trust in God,
Who knoweth all things, that Afrásiyáb
Will turn to good and shun perverse, bad ways;
But if I find him rash and obstinate
I likewise will dispatch a camel-post
In haste; then make thee ready instantly.
Illustrious monarchs and their realms are near
At hand, it is but six score leagues to Chín,
And only seventeen score to Írán,
Where all are friendly and prepared to serve thee.
On that side too thou hast a yearning father,
A host attached to thee, and loyal cities.
Dispatch a lengthy letter to all parts,
And haste to get thee ready.”
Siyáwush
Gave credence to the words of Garsíwaz,
So much was his shrewd intellect asleep,
And not transgress thy counsel and advice.
Make intercession for me with the king:
And show me the right course in everything.”
A ready scribe was called to whom the prince
Gave full instructions. First invoking God—
The Assuager of His servant's grief—he spake
The praise of wisdom, blessed the king, and said:—
“O king victorious and fortunate!
May time ne'er prove thine only monument.
Thou calledst me and I rejoiced thereat:
May thy seat be amongst the archimages.
Moreover thou didst summon Farangís,
And fill her heart with love and loyalty
But Farangís is ailing at this present
With weakness and the loss of appetite,
She cannot rise and will not let me leave
Her side (I see her lying 'twixt two worlds)
Although my heart desired to look on thee,
And thy words gave new lustre to my spirit.
When Farangís is well she shall become
The ransom of the monarch of Túrán;
Her sufferings are also mine excuse,
For I am privy to her pains and griefs.”
He gave the letter, when it had been sealed,
At once to evil-natured Garsíwaz,
Who boldly made request for three fleet steeds,
And rode without a halt both day and night.
He traversed in three days the long, hard road
O'er hill and vale, and on the fourth day reached
The monarch's court, a villain bent on ill.
And full of hurry, questioned him at large:—
“Why hast thou come in haste,” the monarch said,
“Why didst thou make a journey of such length?”
Then Garsíwaz replied: “When fortune loureth
It is not well to put thy trust therein.
Now Siyáwush showed no regard for me,
Nor even came to meet me on the way,
Would hear no words, would not peruse thy letter,
But set me on my knees below his throne.
He had much correspondence with Írán,
And kept his city's portals shut on us.
What with a host from Rúm and one from Chín
There is a constant bruit within the land.
Unless thou actest promptly thou wilt have
Naught left but wind. While thou art hesitating
He will attack thee, and obtain both realms,
For should he lead his ar??toward Írán
What man would dare come forth to challenge him?
My purpose in forewarning thee is this
That thou mayst suffer by no act of his.”
Whenas Afrásiyáb had heard these words
The feelings of old days returned to him.
His heart grew full of fire, his head of wind,
He could not answer Garsíwaz for wrath,
But in his fury bade pipes, cymbals, trumpets,
And Indian bells be sounded, and troops summoned.
He flung away the letter all unread,
And, through the words that wicked Garsíwaz
Had spoken, set another tree of feud.
Upon the saddle, Siyáwush in anguish
Went pale and trembling to his ladies' bower.
“Chief of the lion-clutch!” said Farangís,
“Why is thy favour changed?”
“My fair!” he answered,
“Mine honour hath been blackened in Túrán.
I know not how to answer thee, for I
Am all confounded at the case myself;
But, if the words of Garsíwaz be true,
My share is point and not circumference.”
Then Farangís plucked at her tresses, rent
With filbert-nails her cheeks of cercis-bloom,
Blood drenched her locks of musky, hyacinth,
Her heart was full of fire, her face all tears,
Which fell in showers upon the silver hills.
She bit with pearly teeth her tulip lips,
She tore her hair out by the roots, and wept
For what Afrásiyáb had said and done.
She said to Siyáwush: “O noble king!
What wilt thou do? Make haste to tell me all.
Thy father is enraged, thou durst not speak
About Írán; 'tis longsome hence to Rúm,
And thou wouldst be ashamed to go to Chín.
Whom wilt thou take to be thy refuge now?
Thy refuge is the Lord of sun and moon.”
He answered her: “My good friend Garsíwaz
Will come with joyful tidings from the king,
Who surely will forgive through tenderness,
And turn his vengeance into clemency.”
He put his trust in God while thus he spake,
But his hard fortune made his heart still ache.
By reason of this treacherous turn of fate.
The fourth night as the prince lay fast asleep,
Clasped to the breast of moon-faced Farangís,
He shuddered, woke in fright, and cried as 'twere
A maddened elephant. The fair one clung
To him, exclaiming: “For love's sake, O king!
What aileth thee?”
When he called out they lit
The lamps and kindled aloe-wood before him,
And ambergris. The lady asked again:—
“O prudent prince! what sawest thou in sleep?”
Then Siyáwush made answer: “Tell not thou
This dream of mine to any of the folk.
My dream was this, O silvern Cypress-tree!
I saw a mighty river stretching far,
And on the further bank a mount in flames;
The river-side was held by men in mail.
On one side was the swiftly rolling fire—
A fire whereby Siyáwushgird was burned.
Here fire, there water, while Afrásiyáb
Stood right before me with his elephants.
He looked upon me with a louring face,
And blew the already fiercely burning flames.”
The lady answered him: “It bodeth well,
Unless thou slumberest for this one night.”
Then Siyáwush assembled all his guards
And posted them about the court and hall;
He mounted in full armour, sword in hand,
And sent out scouts upon the road to Gang.
There came a scout on horseback from the waste,
Who said: “Afrásiyáb with many troops
Appeareth in the distance, pressing forward.”
Then came a messenger from Garsíwaz,
Who said: “Gird up thy loins to save thy life.
My words have proved to be of no avail,
I see black smoke although I see no fire:
Consider now what course thou shouldest take,
And how thou mayest best dispose thy troops.”
But Siyáwush, who knew not the design,
Believed in Garsíwaz. Then Farangís
Said: “O wise king! take no account of us.
But mount upon a courser fleet of foot,
And trust not to the country of Túrán.
I fain would see thee in security
Abiding here, but save thyself and flee.”
He said to Farangís: “That dream of mine
Hath come to pass: my glory is bedimmed.
For me existence draweth to an end,
The misery of bitter days hath come.
My palace may reach Saturn, yet death's poison
Hath to be drunk; though life should be prolonged
Twelve hundred years dark dust is our last home;
Some are the food of lions, some of vultures
Or eagles. Nobody possessed of wisdom
Expecteth any brightness from the night.
This is the fifth month of thy pregnancy
With our illustrious and growing babe:
This precious Tree of thine will bring forth Fruit,
And in thy sorrowing find peace in him.
None from the bright sun to the darksome dust,
From gnat's wing to the mighty elephant's foot,
And from the well-spring to the river Nile,
Can scape the justice of All-holy God.
Túránian soil will be my grave, and none
Will say: ‘His dust reposeth in Írán.’
May not men call this old world new whose sky
So quickly altereth? My jocund fortune
Will sleep henceforward by the king's command.
They will strike off this guiltless head of mine,
And lay my diadem in my heart's blood.
For me no bier, shroud, grave, or weeping people,
But like a stranger I shall lie in dust,
A trunk beheaded by the scimitar;
While thee, thy head unveiled, thy body bare,
The guards shall drag in shame along the road.
Then will Pírán the chieftain reach the court,
Plead with thy sire to spare thy blameless life,
And bear thee to his palace in thine anguish.
There in the house of that old, honoured man
Wilt thou bring forth illustrious Kai Khusrau,
And there will come a saviour from Írán,
One with his loins girt up by God's command,
Who will convey thee and thy son in haste
Toward the Jíhún. Thy son will have the throne,
And rule o'er fowl and fish. A host will come
Such is the process of the fickle sky,
Which cottoneth to no man out of love!
Oh! what a mighty host will don their mail
To vindicate mine honour! Battle-shouts
Will rise, and Kai Khusrau will vex the age;
Then Rustam's Rakhsh will trample earth, despising
Túránian folk, and thou wilt see no vengeance
Ta'en for me till the Resurrection-day
Save by the mace and trenchant scimitar.”
The noble hero turned himself to her,
Bade her farewell, and said: “Fair spouse! I go;
Be strengthened by my words, and think no more
Of luxury and throne.”
He left the palace,
Heart-broken, pale, lamenting sore. O world!
I wot not why thou nurturest men if they
Whom thou hast nurtured are to be thy prey!
The lady tore her cheeks, plucked out her hair,
Sent two streams pouring from her eyes, and hung
Upon him as he spake the words of woe.
With cheeks and eyes which ran with his heart's blood
He sought the stables of his Arab steeds,
And led forth from its stall night-hued Bihzád,
Which overtook the wind in days of battle.
He groaned, he clasped its head upon his breast,
And took the halter and the headstall off.
Long while he whispered in his charger's ear,
And said: “Be prudent, have to do with none.
When to avenge me Kai Khusrau shall come
It is on thee that he must put the bridle,
So now renounce the stable once for all,
For thou shalt carry him to his revenge.
And with thy hoofs sweep foemen from the earth.”
He hamstrung all the other steeds and slashed
Their legs like rushes with his scimitar.
As for the riches in the treasury,
His palace, and rose-garden, his brocade,
Dínárs, pearls, jewelry, the diadem,
Sword, belt, and helm, he burned and wasted them.
This done, he with his chiefs marched toward Írán,
Lost in amazement at his evil fortune,
And with his cheeks suffused by tears of blood
Fared half a league then met Afrásiyáb,
Beheld an armoured host with sword and mace,
And, buckling up his mail, thought: “Garsíwaz
Hath told the truth, a truth too evident!”
Now Siyáwush feared for his life what time
The monarch of Túrán drew nigh. His troops
Partook his fears. The Turkmans occupied
For hate had been a stranger to their hearts.
Through fear of Siyáwush the Turkman horsemen
Sought not to fight but hung back cautiously.
With things at such a pass the Íránians cried
To Siyáwush: “O monarch of the world!
Why should they slay us with impunity
And drag us o'er the plain? Think this no trifle
But let them witness the Íránians' prowess.”
Then Siyáwush: “This is not well, for we
Have neither room nor force to fight. To offer
My sovereign battle would disgrace my stock.
The turning sky is bent on my destruction,
Though guiltless, by the hands of wicked men,
And I can make no bold attack to-day,
For none can strive with God. What said the sage,
That man of prudence? ‘Brave not adverse fate.’”
Then to Afrásiyáb said Siyáwush:—
“O full of virtues, great and glorious king!
Why hast thou come to battle with thy host?
Why wouldst thou slay me in mine innocence?
Thou wilt embroil the forces of two realms,
And fill the earth and age with malisons.”
Said Garsiwaz the insensate: “Do these words
Befit thee? If thou art so innocent
Why hast thou come thus mail-clad to the king?
Men come not to receive their sovereigns
With gifts of ??ow and mail.”
Then Siyáwush
On hearing answered: “Villain! through thy words
I left the right path in my heedlessness.
Thou saidst: ‘The monarch is enraged at thee!’
Through what thou saidst, but punishment will come
At last. As thou hast sown so shalt thou reap.”
Then to the king: “Let not thine anger burn.
It is no jest for thee to shed my blood,
And wage a war against the innocent.
Give not thyself and kingdom to the winds
For what that miscreant Garsíwaz hath said.”
But Garsíwaz the double-dealer watched
And, while the prince was speaking to the king,
Grew wroth and cried: “O king! what aileth thee?
Why shouldst thou hold a parley with thy foe?”
Now when the king had heard what Garsíwaz
Had spoken, and it being then broad day,
He bade his soldiers draw their trenchant swords,
And raise a shout like Resurrection-morn;
But Siyáwush, still constant to his pledge,
Put not his hand to sword and javelin,
And let not one of his companions
Advance a foot to battle with the foe.
Malevolent and fell Afrásiyáb
Then wrought upon that chieftain of Írán
Gross outrage, saying: “Give them to the sword,
And float a ship in blood upon the plain.”
The Íránian army was a thousand strong,
All men of name and doughty warriors,
Who perished on the field and made the earth
Like tulips with their gore. Amid the mellay
By shaft and dart. Gurwí the son of Zira
Bound both his hands, as he was lying senseless,
Behind his back firm as a rock, while others
Placed on his neck a yoke. The blood ran down
Those cheeks of cercis-bloom; he ne'er had seen
A day like that! The executioners
Urged him and dragged him on the road afoot
With troops around him toward Siyáwushgird.
Afrásiyáb commanded, saying: “Take him
Beside the road and let him be beheaded
On some bare spot where grasses never grow,
And pour his blood upon the burning earth.
Let there be no delay and have no fears.”
The soldiers said: “What fault hast thou discerned?
Wilt thou not say, O king! how he hath wronged thee
That thou shouldst steep thy hands thus in his blood?
Why wilt thou slay a man for whom the crown
And ivory throne will weep with bitterness?
Plant not in times of happiness a tree
Whose fruitage fortune will convert to bane.”
But Garsíwaz, that man of evil note,
Was in his folly on the murderers' side,
And fain would shed the blood of Siyáwush
Through dudgeon ever since the day of contest.315
There was a warrior younger than Pírán,
His brother and his noble peer, by name
Pílsam, a bright, accomplished youth, who reasoned
Thus with the king: “The fruitage of this shoot
Is pain and grief. I have heard sages say,
And wisdom too agreeth therewithal:—
‘How can deliberation cause regret?’
And: ‘Reason is the medicine of the angry.’
Pain and remorse to body and to soul.’
It is not reason to behead thy subject
So recklessly; keep him in bonds till time
Shall give its teaching; when the breath of wisdom
Shall breathe upon thy heart thou mayst behead him,
But give no order now, be not in haste,
For hastiness is rooted in regret.
It is not fit to sever, O wise king!
A head whose covering will be the crown;
And if thou shalt behead a guiltless man,
One whom Káús and Rustam will avenge—
The Sháh's own son whom Rustam hath brought up
And nourished fondly—we shall see the wrong
Revenged, and thou wilt suffer for this day.
Bethink thee of the sword with flashing blade,
The sword whereby the world is filled with blood,
And those famed leaders of the Íránians,
Whose wrath confoundeth earth, as Faríburz,
The son of Kai Káús, the ravening Lion,
Whom none e'er yet saw satiate of fight;
That hero too and snorting Elephant,
Great Rustam, in whose eyes a host is vile.
Then will Gúdarz, Gurgín, Farhád, and Tús
Make fast the drums upon the elephants' backs,
Gird up their loins to take revenge, and fill
The wide champaign with spearmen. I, my peers,
Good sooth Pírán will come at dawn, the king
Will also hear what he hath got to say,
And seeing that there is no urgency
Dispread not such a carpet of revenge
Upon the world. Enjoin not haste herein,
For it will be the ruin of Túrán.”
Afrásiyáb was softened by these words,
But Garsíwaz his brother had no shame,
And said: “Check not thy purpose, man of wisdom!
Because of this youth's talk. The plain is full
Of vultures feeding on the Íránian dead,
And if thou fearest vengeance there is cause.
Should Siyáwush cry out earth would appear
All mace and scimitar from Rúm and Chín.
Hath he not done thee wrong enough that thou
Shouldst listen weakly to what others say?
The snake's tail thou hast crushed and bruised its
head;
Now wilt thou deck its body with brocade?
If thou shalt spare his life I will depart
To some retreat and perish.”
Then Damúr
Went with Gurwí, both writhing with affright,
Before the monarch of Túrán and said:—
“Mind not the blood of Siyáwush so much,
Because 'tis vile to rest with all to do,
But hearken to the words of Garsíwaz,
The counsellor, and sweep away thy foe.
Since thou hast laid the snare and captured him
Slay him at once, and tarnish not thy glory
Through folly. Holding him is not enough;
'Tis needful that we break our foemen's hearts.
Thou hast destroyed his troops! Mark how the prince
Aforetime water could have purged this fault;
Now policy would have him seen no more
At large or in restraint.”
The king replied:—
“I have myself beheld no fault in him;
Albeit astrologers declare that ill
Will come to me through him, and if I shed
His blood revenge will raise dust in Túrán
And dim the sun. That day will daze the wise.
Misfortune is upon me and my realm;
Affliction, pain, and bondage are at hand,
Yet freeing him is worse than slaying him,
Though slaying him will cause me pain and anguish.”
But neither sage nor villain can make sure
What new expedient heaven may have in store.
The news reached Farangís, who tore her cheeks
And came afoot before Afrásiyáb,
Girt with a bloody cord, her moon-like face
Besmirched with blood; she came in fear and trembling,
And, as she scattered dust upon her head,
Exclaimed: “O monarch full of excellence!
Why wilt thou bring me to such misery?
Why hast thou wrapped thy heart up in deceit?
Dost thou not from thy height perceive the abyss?
Take not a monarch's and a guiltless head;
The Judge of sun and moon will disapprove.
When Siyáwush departed from Írán
He did thee homage—thee of all the world—
Gave umbrage to the Sháh, left treasures, crown,
And throne to make thee his support and shelter.
What hast thou seen in him to make thee quit
The path of right? No man beheadeth kings
And long retaineth his own sovereignty.
Is fleeting and is full of sobs and sighs.
One man though crowned it casteth into prison,
One who ne'er had a crown it maketh king;
Yet fate hath laid the grave's grip on them both,
And in the end both lie alike in dust.
Make not thyself a butt to all the world
By listening to malicious Garsíwaz.
Thou knowest well what tyrannous Zahhák,
The Arab, suffered from brave Farídún;
And likewise how both Salm and savage Túr
Fared at the hands of great Sháh Minúchihr.
Now living at the throne of Sháh Káús
Are Zál and Rustam the vindictive one,
Gúdarz, son of Kishwád, whose hand is steel
And rendeth lions' hearts and leopards' hides,
Bahrám and Zanga son of Sháwárán,
Who heedeth not the maces of the valiant,
And Gív, son of Gúdarz, at whom the earth
Is all a-tremble on the day of battle.
In grief for Siyáwush the streams will boil
And heaven will execrate Afrásiyáb.
Herein thou art a tyrant to thyself,
And often will my words recur to thee.
Thou art not casting onagers in sport,
Nor art thou terrifying antelopes,
But plundering a monarch of his throne,
And sun and moon will curse thee. Give not thou
Mayst thou have reason to recall my words.”
She as she spoke caught sight of Siyáwush,
And tore her cheeks with lamentable cries:—
“O king! O brave! O chief! O sovereign!
O lion proud of head! O man of might!
Thou hast left home and country in Írán,
And recognised my father as thy king,
Yet art thou haled afoot with bounden hands!
Where are the crown and throne of high estate,
Where all the royal oaths and covenants
That made the Sun and Moon and Saturn quail?
Where would be Sháh Káús and his proud chiefs
If at this moment they beheld thee thus?
Where are the mighty Rustam, Tús, and Gív,
Zál, Farámarz, and their associates?
The tidings of this wrong will reach Írán
And vex the day of its prosperity.
?? hath befallen thee through Garsíwaz:
Curse on him, on Gurwí and on Damúr!
He that shall lay a hand on thee for ill,
Be his head smitten off and flung away.
May God vouchsafe to lighten this for thee,
And make thy foes' hearts quake. Would that mine eyes
Were out ere they beheld thee haled like this,
But could I ever deem that mine own sire
Would banish all the sunlight from my breast?”
The monarch heard his child's words and the world
Was blackened in his eyes. He said to her:—
“Begone. What know'st thou of our purposes?”
His heart was all a-fire against his daughter,
He shut the eye of wisdom recklessly.
Within the lofty palace was one chamber
Unknown to her; the monarch bade his guards
To drag her thither, as they would the mad,
And having flung her down inside that room
To bolt the door and leave her in the gloom.
Turned round and going up to Siyáwush
Showed no observance and humanity,
But grasping with his hand the prince's beard
Dragged him, O horror! vilely through the dust,
While Siyáwush thus prayed Almighty God:—
“O Thou that art above the change of time!
Cause from my seed an Offshoot to appear,
In all men's eyes as 'twere a shining sun,
Who will avenge me of my foes, maintain
My precedents, exhibit all achievement
And manliness, and reinstate the world.”
Pílsam came following Gurwí with tears
Of blood in anguish. “Fare thee well,” the prince
Exclaimed. “Be thou the woof and be the world
Thy warp. Farewell Pírán for me and say:—
‘The fashion of the world hath changed!’ I hoped
Much otherwise of him, for his advice
Was like the breeze and I was like the willow.
He told me: ‘I with five score thousand men,
All cavaliers in mail on barded steeds,
Will be thy helper when the day shall come,
Will be thy pasturage at feeding-time.’
Now hurried on in front of Garsíwaz,
Afoot thus in my shame and gloom of soul,
I see no friend or one to wail for me.”
When he was past the city and the host
They bore and dragged him bound upon the plain,
And then Gurwí received from Garsíwaz
A blue-steel dagger for the bloody deed.
And when he came to where the mark had stood
The day that Siyáwush and Garsíwaz,
That lion-taker, had the shooting-bout,
The son of Zira, villain that he was,
Flung to the ground the mighty Elephant,
And showed no shame or reverence for rank,
But set a golden basin on the ground,
Turned up the prince's face as 'twere a sheep's,
Cut off the silver Cypress' head and filled
The bowl with blood. Gurwí took up the bowl
And emptied it where he had been commanded.
From that blood presently there sprang a plant,
Which I will teach thee how to recognise,
For it is called “The Blood of Siyáwush.”
Now when the Sun had left the Cypress-stem,
And when the prince's head had fallen asleep,
(And what a sleep! For how much time hath passed
And he hath never stirred, hath never waked!)
A tempest with a cloud of darksome dust
Arose enveloping the sun and moon,
And no man could discern his neighbour's face.
Then all of them began to curse Gurwí.
I turn me left and right and all around,
But knowledge of this world have I not found.
One man doth much amiss but good alone
Is his, the world and fortune are his own:
Another walketh this earth righteously
Yet withereth away in misery.
And let thy sorrow over this world cease,
For 'tis a fickle thing, not ever sure,
And will be so till time shall be no more.
But this is certain—whatso'er thy lot
May be in this world it abideth not.
A cry rose from the halls of Siyáwush,
For Garsíwaz had filled the world with tumult;
The slaves all rent their hair, and Farangís
Plucked off and bound a long and musky tress
Around her, tore her cheeks of cercis-bloom,
And cursed with tears and shrieks her father's soul,
Who hearing how she wailed and cursed him, said
To Garsíwaz the villain: “Bring her forth,
Drag her outside the curtains by the hair,
And tell the guards and executioners
To take her by the tresses, strip, and beat her,
Until she casteth on Túránian soil
The seed of vengeance, for I will not have
A tree or bough or leaf or crown or throne
Come from his root.”
Then all the nobles present
Began to curse Afrásiyáb, and said:—
“From king or minister or warrior
None e'er heard such a sentence!”
With his cheeks
Blood-stained, his spirit seared, his face all tears,
Pílsam approached Lahhák and Farshídward.
Throne!” he exclaimed. “No rest or sleep for us
In this land! We must hasten to Pírán
In sorrow and concern about the captives.”
They put the saddles on three noble steeds:
“They roll the earth before them,” thou hadst said.
Now these three horsemen, when they reached Pírán,
Their faces blood-stained and their souls all thorns,
Recounted to him what had come to pass,
And how the ills of fortune had begun.
Pírán, when he had diligently heard
Their words, fell from his throne and swooned away.
He rent his clothes, threw dust upon his head,
Plucked out the hair, and in his bitter anguish
For ivory throne will never see thy like.”
Lahhák said: “Haste! oh! haste! or greater grief
Will come, for they have carried Farangís,
Her body all a-quiver like a tree,
Dethroned, disgraced, unrespited, away
To give her over unto those that slay!”
Pírán on hearing this cried out in wrath,
Descended to the street and from the stable
Brought forth ten roadsters up to warriors' weight,
And with the brave Rúín and Farshídward
Sent up the dust forthwith.323
He reached the court
In two days and two nights, there found the deathsmen
About the portal, Farangís bereft
Of all her wits dragged roughly by the guard
With sword in hand, and all the court in uproar;
All hearts were full of grief, all eyes of tears,
All tongues of curses on Afrásiyáb.
The populace—men, women, and young children—
Were talking at the palace-gate and saying:—
To cut asunder Farangís! This fury
Will wreck the reign and none will call him king
Henceforward.”
At that moment came Pírán
Like wind, and all the men of wisdom joyed.
When noble Farangís saw him her cheeks
Were hidden by a flood of tears, she said:—
“??Ill hast thou dealt with me! Why hast thou flung me
While living into fire?”
Pírán dropped off
His steed, he rent the raiment that he wore
As paladin, and bade the officers
To hold awhile. He sought Afrásiyáb
In haste, grief-stricken, and with tearful eyes,
To whom he said: “O king! live prosperously,
Be evil's hand afar! What hath occurred,
My gracious king! to turn thy face to ill
To-day? Why hath the foul Dív gained thy heart,
And robbed it of its reverence for God?
Thou hast slain Siyáwush though innocent,
And flung his name and kingship to the dust.
News of this wrong will reach Írán and vex
Our prosperous times, for many a paladin
Will march in anguish and revenge against us.
Was clear until the wily Dív from Hell
Smote to the heart the monarch of Túrán;
And rightly be that Áhríman accursed,
Who turned thy counsels to an evil course.
Thou wilt repent of this for many a day,
And surely writhe and burn in agony.
I know not whose ill words have prompted this,
Or what the Maker's purpose is herein!
Now, quit of Siyáwush, thou hast ill-treated
Thine own child, and hast madly left thy throne
To make a day of woe! She wisheth not
For fortune, royal state or throne or crown.
Make not thyself a butt to all the world
By what thou doest to thy pregnant child,
Else while thou livest thou wilt be accursed,
And when thou diest Hell will be thy portion.
If now the king would make my spirits bright,
Let him send Farangís to mine abode.
If there be apprehension through this babe,
In truth the trouble and concern are small.
Have patience only till the child is born;
Then will I bring it thee and—do thy worst.”
He answered: “Do as thou hast said, for thou
Hast made me cease to wish to shed her blood.”
Pírán rejoiced, his heart was eased from fear.
He sought the court-gate, rescued Farangís,
Bestowing many a curse upon the guards,
Then bore her to the country of Khutan,
Unhurt, amid the applause of camp and court.
When he had reached his palace he bespake
Gulshahr: “We needs must harbour this fair dame
Until she hath brought forth her royal babe,
And after that I will devise some scheme.
Meanwhile attend upon her like a slave,
And mark the pranks of fortune.”
The Moon grew near to her delivery.
One dark and moonless night, while birds, wild beasts,
And cattle slept, Pírán in dream beheld
A splendour that outshone the sun itself,
While Siyáwush, enthroned and sword in hand,
Called loudly to him, saying: “Rest no more!
Throw off sweet sleep and think of times to come,
For from to-day new feasts and customs date,
Because to-night is born Sháh Kai Khusrau!”
The chieftain roused him from his sweet repose:
Gulshahr the sunny-featured woke. Pírán
Said unto her: “Arise! Betake thyself
To minister to Farangís, for I
Saw Siyáwush in sleep a moment since,
Surpassing both the sun and moon in lustre,
And crying: ‘Sleep no more, but join the feast
Of Kai Khusrau, the monarch of the world.’”
Gulshahr came hasting to the Moon and saw
The prince already born; she went with cries
Of joy that made the palace ring again
Back to Pírán the chief. “Thou wouldest say,”
She cried, “that king and Moon are fairly matched!
Oh! hasten and behold a miracle—
The Maker's greatness and His providence—
For thou wilt say: ‘The babe hath need of naught
But crown, mail, mace, and lands to devastate.’”
The chieftain visited the royal babe,
And offered many praises to the Almighty
For that tall stature and those arms and neck.
Thou wouldst have said: “The child is twelve months
old!”
Pírán's eyes filled with tears for Siyáwush:
He uttered curses on Afrásiyáb,
“Although the king shall break my soul therefor
I will not suffer him to touch the child,
Not though he fling me to the crocodiles!”
When gloomy murk was sleeping, and the sun
Displayed its rays, the captain of the host,
'Twixt fear and hope, went to Afrásiyáb
In haste, but waited till the court had cleared;
Then came anear the famous throne and thus
Addressed the king: “O sunlike sovereign
And world-lord, shrewd and versed in magic arts!
Thy lot last night was bettered by one slave,
‘Dowered by the moon,’ as thou wouldst say, ‘with
sense,’
He hath engrossed all beauty: thou wouldst say:—
‘It simply is the moon inside the cradle!’
If Túr could have his lifetime o'er again
He would desire to see this infant's face.
None looketh on a picture in a palace
So fair. The royal Grace is fresh in him,
And thou wouldst say: ‘'Tis valiant Farídún
In Grace and countenance, in hand and foot.’
Now purge thy mind from every thought of ill,
Exalt thy heart, and illustrate the crown.”
God gave the king a better mind. He banished
Thoughts of injustice, harshness, and revenge:
His spirit sorrowed for his evil deed.
Then from his heart he heaved a sigh, repenting
Of evil done, and putting by revenge
Replied: “Much evil will befall me now:
That is the gist of everybody's words.
The age will be disquieted by war,
For an adviser hath reminded me
That from the seed of Túr and Kai Kubád
A king of noble birth will lift his head,
Him homage in Írán and Túrán.
What is to be will be, no anxious thought
Will aught avail; rear not the child at home,
But send him to the shepherds on the mountains
That he may know me not or why I sent him
To them, not know the truth about his birth,
But be in ignorance of all the past.”
He spake upon the matter as he thought,
And deemed this old world young! Canst thou do
aught?
There is no remedy. The world is vast,
No hooks or nets of thine will hold it fast;
But if misfortune's ills thou hast to feel
There is instruction also for thy weal.
The paladin went forth with joy, his heart
Full of glad thoughts, began to bless the Maker.
And sing the praises of the infant king;
Then journeyed to his palace musing thus:—
“This little gift—what will it prove to us?”
To whom he spake about the infant prince,
Then trusted to their care his Heart and Eyes—
The child that was so good and admirable—
And said: “Entreat him like your souls. No wind
Or dust must see him. Keep him from mischance
E'en at the cost of your own eyes and hearts.”
They said: “We will obey.”
He furnished them,
And sent a nurse to tend the royal babe;
They laid their fingers on their eyes and heads,
And took the young prince with them to the mountains.
The heavens revolved awhile with matters thus,
And looked upon Khusrau with loving face.
Now when the brave young prince was seven years old
His prowess told the secret of his birth;
He made a bow of wood and string of gut
Looped at both ends, he made an arrow blunt
And featherless, and would go on the plain
To hunt; at ten he was a valiant warrior,
Who fought with boars and wolves, anon with lions
And leopards, armed with that rude weapon only,
And thus he fared until as time went on
His teacher came to ask for fresh directions.
The shepherd left the mountains and the waste,
And came before Pírán with loud complaints:—
“I come complaining to the paladin
Anent this noble Lion running loose:
No leopards, and avoided lions' tracks,
But now to fight fierce lions is the same
For him as following the antelope,
And yet I must not let him come to harm!
The noble paladin expecteth this
Of me.”
Pírán on hearing smiled and said:—
“High birth and excellence will show themselves.”
He mounted on an easy-going nag
To seek the sunlike Lion, and observed
The stalwart youth as he approached like wind.
He kissed Pírán upon the hand, who, seeing
Such Grace and such a countenance, shed tears,
And long and lovingly embraced the youth
In secret commune with all-holy God.
Khusrau said: “O thou pure of Faith! mayst thou
??ume the country of Túrán, for all
That know thee call thee friend! Thou dost embrace
A shepherd's son and feelest not ashamed!”
The heart of wise Pírán grew hot, his cheeks
Flushed, he replied: “Thou memory of the great,
So good and yet defrauded of the world!
There is no shepherd that is kin to thee,
And on this matter I have much to tell.”
He had an Arab steed brought for the youth,
Clothed him in royal robes and carried him
Home to the palace, thinking mournfully
Rejoiced in him, and spent a happy time,
But lost food, rest, and sleep through tenderness,
And terror of the anger of the king.
With matters thus the heavens turned above
Awhile o'er Kai Khusrau in peace and love.
One night Pírán received a messenger,
Who bade him wait upon Afrásiyáb.
The monarch spake about the past: “My heart,”
He said, “is yexed by thoughts and grief too hard
To put aside; this child of Siyáwush
Hath, so to speak, o'er??ast my day; but will
High policy allow a shepherd-swain
To rear one of the race of Farídún?
If ill through this child hath been written for me
No caution will avert it; 'tis God's doing.
But while the child suspecteth not the past
Let him be glad and we too will rejoice;
Still, if he showeth any evil bent,
He, as his father did, must lose his head.”
Pírán replied: “O king! thou needest none
To teach thee. This boy is as mad folk are!
What notions can he have about the past?
A child brought up by shepherds on the mountains
Is like wild animals; what can he know?
The foster-father told me yester-night:—
‘The boy is comely but devoid of wits.’
In spite of beauty, stature, form, and Grace,
The prince's head yet lacketh understanding;
Vex not thyself and think no more hereof.
What said the sage—a man exceeding wise?
But the great secret is the mother's love.’
If at this time the king shall order me,
I will present this lauded youth to him,
But make me easy by a promise first
And swear by such an oath as kings employ.
Sháh Farídún, when he affirmed a matter,
Swore by his crown and throne and diadem;
Túr, who enjoyed both fortune and high state,
Swore by the Ruler of the universe;
And that great king Zádsham, thy grandsire, swore
By Him that ruleth Saturn, Mars, and Sun.”
The wits of fierce Afrásiyáb were lulled
At hearing this, he swore a royal oath
By white day and by sombre night, by God—
The Omnipotent, the Maker of the world,
The Maker of the sky, the soul, and beasts:—
“No harm shall come upon the boy through me,
And I will never breathe sharp breath on him.”
Pírán then kissed the ground and said: “O king,
Who judgest justly and art wed to justice!
Be wisdom evermore thy guide to good,
Be earth and time the dust beneath thy feet.”
He came in haste to Kai Khusrau with cheeks
Like cercis-blossom, glad exceedingly,
And said: “Put wisdom from thee. If the king
Shall talk to thee of fight, talk thou of feast.
Appear before him as an alien
And speak insanely, show no kind of sense,
And thus thou mayst perchance outlive the day.”
Pírán equipped him with a royal crown
And belt, and called for him a pretty palfrey
Whereon the shrewd, young hero sat and rode
Toward the palace of Afrásiyáb.
Tears filled the eyes of all on his account,
The brave aspirant to the crown hath come.”
When he arrived Pírán the general
Took him before the king. The grandsire's cheeks
Grew wet with tears of shame, meanwhile Pírán
Shook like a willow, fearing for Khusrau.
The king remembering his pledge and spurning
All fell designs, gazed in astonishment
Upon that royal neck, the young man's hands.
His gait, his bearing, and his dignity.
There was a pause. The monarch's face relaxed,
And love at length prevailed within his heart.
“O youthful shepherd!” said Afrásiyáb,
“Describe to me thy life by day and night.
On what wise hast thou shepherded thy flock?
What is the number of thy sheep and goats?”
Khusrau thus answered him: “There is no game:
Besides I have not arrow, bow, or string.”
The monarch asked him next about his teacher,
And whether he was prosperous or not.
Khusrau replied: “Where'er there is a leopard
The hearts of valiant warriors are rent.”
Afrásiyáb the third time questioned him
About Írán, his parents, and his home.
“The rending lion,” thus he made reply,
“Is not o'er-powered by a fighting-dog.”
The king said: “Wilt thou go hence to Írán,
To him who is the monarch of the brave?”
Khusrau thus answered him: “Two nights ago
A horseman passed me on the hills and plains.”
The monarch smiled and blossomed like a rose,
Then asked of Kai Khusrau in gentler tones:—
“Dost thou not wish to learn to write? Hast thou
No wish for vengeance on thine enemies?”
He said: “There is no cream upon the milk:
I fain would drive the shepherds from the plain.”
The monarch smiled at what Khusrau had answered,
And turning to the captain of the host
Said thus to him: “The fellow is a fool:
I ask of heads; he answereth of feet!
In sooth no good or ill will come from him:
Of other stuff are they that seek revenge.
Go! Send him by the hand of some good man,
And let his mother have him back to her.
Dispatch him to Siyáwushgird, allow
No evil teachers to resort to him,
But furnish him with treasure, money, steeds,
Attendants, and whate'er may serve his needs.”
“Bestir thyself,” Pírán said to the prince,
Then took him from the presence of the king,
And went back to his palace, flushed with joy
And triumph, since the eye of ill was closed.
He said: “A new Tree fruiteth in the world
Through Him that ruleth over destiny.”
He oped the portals of his ancient hoards
And furnished all that Kai Khusrau required—
Brocade, dínárs, and precious stones, with pearls,
Steeds, implements of war, and crowns and girdles,
Besides a throne and purses full of drachms,
With carpetings and matters great and small.
He brought them all to Kai Khusrau with speed,
And with the present gave his blessing also,
Then sent both son and mother to the seat
That good king Siyáwush had built. They went
Their way rejoicingly toward the place,
Which had become by then a brake of thorns.
When Farangís and Kai Khusrau arrived
Much folk from every side appeared to greet them,
While all the city's tongues were full of praise:
Sprout from the razed roots of a noble Tree!
Far be the eye of evil from the king,
And may light fill the soul of Siyáwush.”
The brambles of the city turned to box,
The meadow-grass to noble cypresses;
The very beasts rejoiced and all the folk
Felt solace for the death of Siyáwush,
Since cloudward from the dust that drank his blood
There rose an Evergreen of sweet perfume,
Upon whose leaves his likeness was portrayed,
Exhaling through his love the scent of musk,
And flourishing in winter as in spring
Would be a prayer-place for the sorrowful.
This is the process of the ancient sky—
It robbeth infants of their mother's breast,
And to the dust deposeth suddenly
A heart by fondness for the world possessed.
Brave not the world but seek its joys to win;
It hideth evils more than thou canst know,
Yet treat it as a garden and therein
Abstain from sniffing at the leaves of woe,
For whether thou art king or shod by want
In any case thy length of days is scant.
Vex not thy soul, this home is but a cheat,
Thy sole possession is a narrow bier;
What needeth thine amassing? Sit and eat;
God is thy treasurer, thou need'st not fear.
Albeit here much happiness is found
The world hath no real love for anyone.
'Twill raise a head one moment to the sun,
And in the next will lay it underground.
It is the process of the lofty sky
To bring down princes and set slaves on high.
I turn from blood to vengeance and tell how
Gív bare off from Túrán Sháh Kai Khusrau.
The poet, after bewailing the approach of old age, tells of the arrival in Írán of the news of the death of Siyáwush, of the remorse of Kai Káús, and of the wrath of Rustam, who slays Súdába, invades Túrán, expels Afrásiyáb, and rules there himself for seven years; after which he retires to Sístán. Afrásiyáb returns, recovers his authority, and wats with success against Írán.
At this juncture Gúdarz is warned in a dream to have search made for Kai Khusrau, the son of Siyáwush, who is kept as a prisoner of state by Afrásiyáb, and Gív departs on the quest. His adventures are described, and he ultimately returns to Írán in company with Kai Khusrau and his mother Farangís in spite of all the efforts of Pírán and Afrásiyáb to stop them.
Subsequently a quarrel takes place between Gúdarz and Tús as to whether Kai Khusrau or Faríburz shall be associated as joint Sháh with Kai Káús, who puts the matter to the test and Kai Khusrau is successful.
The most conspicuous character in this Part is Gív, a word which means “warrior.” The feats which he is described as performing would be more than worthy of Rustam himself, who, after his withdrawal from Túrán, is relegated for a time to the background. We must conceive, as the Persians themselves would, that Gív, employed on the sacred mission of discovering and bringing to Írán the destined prince, was favoured with divine assistance in his enterprise.
§ 31. The quarrel between Gúdarz and Tús, as to the respective claims of Kai Khusrau and Faríburz to be associated as Sháh with Kai Káús, bears important results in the next reign. Tús was the son of Naudar, and he and his brother Gustaham were deliberately passed over after the death of that Sháh, and again after the death of Garshasp, when Kai Kubád was fetched from Mount Alburz to fill the vacant throne.336
Tús can never forget that he is the direct representative of the line of the Pishdádian Sháhs, and, despairing of ever becoming Sháh himself, he on this occasion attempts to obtain power indirectly by advocating the claims of a candidate of his own.
§§ 34, 35. In the account of the expedition of Faríburz and Kai Khusrau to Ardabil we have another proof of the truth of the view, often advanced in the present work, that the true seat of the legends of the Sháhnáma is to be looked for in the regions lying between the Euxine and the Caspian. A??dabíl is in Ázarbáiján, a land exposed to invasions from the north through the Pass of Darband, and where the numerous fire-springs doubtless gave rise to the legend of the heat which distressed the host of Faríburz in the neighbo??rhood of the castle of Bahman.
Give him not wine, for he is drunk instead
With them! They give to me a staff for reins,
My wealth is squandered and my fortune sped.
The watchman cannot from his hill desery
The countless army of the enemy,
And hath not wit to turn away although
Their spears confront the lashes of his eye.
The runners too that were so fleet of yore
Bend and are bound by pitiless threescore;
The singer is aweary of his song,
And one are bulbul's note and lion's roar.
Since I took up the cup of fifty-eight,
The grave and shroud, naught else, I contemplate.
Ah! for my swordlike speech when I was thirty,
Those luscious days, musk-scented, roseate!
Drawn by pomegranate-bloom and cypress-bough
The pheasant haunteth not the dog-rose now.
Sufficient respite from my destiny
I ask the Judge Almighty to allow
That from the famous talo of days gone by
I may bequeath the world a history
Such that whoe'er shall judge my work aright
Shall never speak of me but lovingly;
And I that am the Prophet's household-thrall
In dust before his Mandatary fall—
Him of the pulpit and of Zú'lfakar337—
On him to plead my cause above I call.
The story of the rustic bard again
I take in hand; heed thou the minstrel's strain.
The monarch of Túrán wrung off his head
As 'twere a bird's! On every mountain-top
Wild beasts lament the guiltless. Bulbuls mourn
Upon the cypress, francolins and pheasants
Beneath the rose. Túrán is seared and sore,
Pomegranate leaves are yellow in the gardens.
Gurwí set down a golden bowl and raised
As 'twere a sheep's the face of Siyáwush;
They cut his royal head off; there was none
To help or plead.”
When Sháh Káús heard this
His crowned head bowed itself upon the state,
He rent his robes, he tore his cheeks, and quitted
His high throne for the dust. The Íránians
Went mourning on their way, the cavaliers
Put on their funeral weeds, their eyes wept blood,
Their cheeks were pale, all spake of Siyáwush.
Tús and Gúdarz, the gallant Gív, Shápúr,
Bahrám the Lion and Farhád arrayed
Themselves in raiment black and blue; no head
Retained its helmet but had dust instead.
The world-illuming chief heard at Nímrúz:—
“A wail ascendeth from Írán, the death
Hath thrown dust on his crown and rent his robes!”
When matchless Rustam heard his senses fled;
A wail rose from Zábul, Zál tore his cheeks,
And scattered dust upon his crown and shoulders.
Thus passed a week in heaviness and mourning,
But on the eighth day rose the trumpet-blast,
And at the gate of elephantine Rustam
Troops gathered from Kashmír and from Zábul.
Blood in his eyes and vengeance in his heart
He marched toward the court of Kai Káús.
On coming near Írán he rent his robe
Of office, swearing by the Almighty Judge:—
“I will not rest from arms and war or wash
Dust from my face, whereat we need not grieve,
Till I have taken vengeance for the prince,
And brought our foes' heads to the shears. My crown
Shall be a casque, my cup a scimitar,
My net the leathern lasso on mine arm,
Until I take for our young prince's death
Revenge upon that Turkman dark of soul.”
The throne of Kai Káús and said to him:—
“The noxious weeds that thou hast sown, O king!
Are fruiting now! Thy passion for Súdába,
And thine ill bent, have robbed thee of thy Crown,
And now thou seest clearly that thy seat
Is on the ocean's waves. A heavy loss
Hath come upon Írán through the distrust
And disposition of a cruel Sháh.
For one who is the ruler of people
A shroud is better than a woman's bidding.
A woman's talk hath murdered Siyáwush,
And blest is she who is as yet unborn.
As great, as noble, and as reticent.
Alas for that tall stature and that face,
That face that had the mien of majesty!
Alas for that so famous sovereign,
For time will never look on such another!
'Twas ever spring when he was on the throne;
At feasts he used to be the crown of kings,
In fight a Pard, a Tiger, and a Lion:
None ever saw a man so deft of hand.
Now, while I live, I give up heart and brain
To execute revenge for Siyáwush.
Ne'er shall I fight dry-eyed, and like my heart
The whole world shall endure the fiery smart.”
Káús perceived on Rustam's countenance
How great his love was by his tears of blood,
And out of shame said nothing in reply,
But poured down scalding tears. The chief departed
And went toward the palace of Súdába.
He dragged her from the bower by her hair,
Dragged her all bleeding from her throne and clave her
Asunder with his dagger in the street
While Sháh Káús sat passive on his throne;
This done, the matchless Rustam felt a pang
Yet keener in his heart, he sought his palace
In pain and woe, with blood-drops in his eyes,
And livid checks. Írán was all in mourning,
And people flocked around him in their trouble,
Sat in his palace wrathful and distressed.
Upon the eighth he sounded trump and drum,
And to his palace came Gúdarz and Tús,
Shídúsh, Farhád, Gurgín, Gív, and Ruhhám,
Shápúr, Kharrád the warrior, Faríburz—
The son of Kai Káús—Bahrám the Lion,
And dragon-bold Guráza. Rustam said:—
“I stake heart, soul, and body on revenge,
For in this world there is no man of name
In arms like Siyáwush the cavalier.
Treat not the matter lightly. None can deem
Such vengeance trifling. Banish all dismay,
And make the earth run like Jíhún with blood.
By God! while I am living in the world
I will not cease to grieve for Siyáwush.
On that unwatered waste where rash Gurwí
Poured on the ground the life-blood of the prince
I fain would chafe my face and eyes; perchance
It may relieve my heart of grief for him.
Perchance my hands like his may be secured,
A yoke placed on my neck, and both my wrists
Bound with a twisted lasso, and myself
Thrown like a hapless sheep upon the ground;
But if not, with my trenchant scimitar
And mace will I bring Domesday on the world;
Mine eyes shall see naught but the dust of fight,
And I renounce for life the cup of pleasure.”
The chiefs and paladins on hearing this
All shouted like one man: thou wouldst have said:—
“Írán is seething.” From the land the uproar
Thou wouldst have said.
Then from his elephant
He dropped the ball into the cup. The troops
Unsheathed the sword of vengeance. Rose the din
Of horn, of brazen trump, and kettledrum;
The world was all revenge, and thou hadst said:—
“It is a seething sea!” Earth had no room
For walking, air was ambushed by the spears;
The stars began the fray, and time and earth
Washed hands in mischief. The Íránian warriors
Girt up their loins and Kawá's standard led them.
Then Rustam of Zábul chose from Kábul,
Írán, and from the forest of Nárwan,
Troops that were wielders of the seimitar:
There mustered five scoro thousand men of war.
The leader of the van was Farámarz,
The son of Rustam and a youthful chieftain,
Whom, when he reached the border of Túrán,
The watch descried.
The king of Sipanjáb
Was Warázád, a lustrous Pearl mid chiefs.
Whenas the blast of trump and clarion,
And din of Indian bells came to his ears
He beat the tymbals, marched out to the desert,
And from the desert to a sea of blood.
His troops and scimitars were thirty thousand
Prepared for fight. Advancing from the centre
He made all haste to counter Farámarz,
And questioned him and said: “Who art thou? Speak!
Why hast thou set thy face against this land?
Com'st thou in sooth by order of the Sháh,
Or captain of the host? Dost thou not know
Afrásiyáb, his state, his throne, and crown
For this is thy last fight. Thy swarthy form
May not give up the ghost beneath my hands,
Unnamed.”
Then Farámarz: “Ill-fated chief!
The Tree that bare me is a paladin,
In whose hands lions writhe, while elephants
Grow lifeless at his wrath, but as for thee,
Thou ill-conditioned bantling of the Dív!
Why should I talk to thee of how and why?
The elephantine hero is behind
With troops—a foe sufficient anywhere.
He armed to take revenge for Siyáwush,
Advancing like a furious lion. He
Will raise the reek from this vile land. The wind
Will not adventure meddling with his dust.”
As soon as Warázád had heard the words
He knew that it was useless to dispute,
And bade the troops: “Lay on; string up your
bows.”
Both hosts arrayed themselves and donned their
helmets,
The war-cry rose, and ears grew deaf with drumming.
Now at the sound of drum and clarion
The heart of Farámarz began to throb.
He came on like a mighty elephant,
With loins girt up and bow upon his arm,
And in a single onslaught overthrew
A thousand warriors, then turning back
With spear in hand he sought for Warázád,
And, when he saw the Turkman leader's flag,
Rushed like a lion from among the troops,
And stiffening the clutch upon his lance,
Struck Warázád a blow upon the girdle,
So that cuirass and buckle brake, and took him
In such a fashion from the poplar saddle
That thou hadst said: “He dealeth with a fly!”
Flung him upon the dust and then dismounting,
While oftentimes invoking Siyáwush,
Cut off the head of his illustrious foe,
Blood-boltering his raiment and exclaiming:—
“See the first head of our revenge! The seed
That hath been seattered sprouteth from the dust!”
They gave up all the country to the flames,
The reek rose to high heaven, and Farámarz
Wrote to his sire respecting Warázád:—
“I opened wide the door of war and vengeance,
I took him from his sell of poplar wood,
Cut off his head, so doth revenge require
For Siyáwush, and set his land a-fire.”
A runner came and told Afrásiyáb:—
“The elephantine Rustam hath come forth
To war, the Íránian chieftains are assembled;
They have, alack! beheaded Warázád,
And robbed the marches of Túrán of breath;
His army they have utterly o'erthrown,
And given up his country to the flames.”
Afrásiyáb was grieved and called to mind
The ancient prophecy that he had heard
From wise archmages and astrologers;344
Gave largess from his treasures, and brought home
All herds of horses that were on the waste.
He took his minister's and treasurer's keys
To ope his magazines, and furnished swords,
Horse-armour, maces, and artillery,
Dínárs, gold, gems, crowns, torques, and golden belts,
And strewed the palace and the ground with drachms.
With troops equipped and treasure lavished on them
He sounded kettledrum and Indian gong,
And then the horsemen turned their thoughts to war.
He marched from Gang, and, having reached the open,
Called Surkha and spake much of Rustam, saying:—
“Lead thirty thousand Sabres swift as wind
To Sipanjáb, ignoring rest and pleasure,
For Farámarz is there. Send me his head;
But were the son of Zál! Thou hast no peer
In fight save him, yet where the pard would combat
What will the dog of war avail in battle?
Thou art mine own son and my loyal subject,
The Pillar of mine army and my Moon;
Be so alert and circumspect that none
Will venture to attack thee. Lead in person,
Be vigilant, and guard the host from Rustam.”
He took the troops and standard to the plain,
And marched along like wind to Sipanjáb,
Intent on war. The outposts saw the dust,
Turned round, and hurried in to Farámarz.
The din of drums rose from the Íránian troops,
Whose dust transformed the earth to ebony;
The clamour of the cavaliers and chargers
Rose from the plain, out-topping Sol and Venus;
The bright steel falchions flashed like diamonds,
The spearpoints fed on blood. Thou wouldst have
said:—
“An exhalation riseth from the earth,
And giveth fuel to the flames of war.”
The earth from end to end was heaped with slain;
Their severed heads were seattered everywhere.
As Surkha marked the progress of the fight
He saw the spearhead of prince Farámarz,
Then gave the rein to his high-crested steed,
And, giving up the bow, charged with the spear,
While Farámarz, abandoning the centre,
Came forth with lance in hand to counter him,
Laid him unseated on his horse's neck,
While with the impetus and that rude shock
The lance was shivered. Then the Turkman chiefs
Advanced intent on battle and revenge,
While Surkha in the anguish of defeat
Fled. Farámarz, like some mad elephant,
Pursued him, brandishing an Indian sword.
The Íránian horse rushed after him like dívs,
And shouted. Farámarz came up with Surkha
And, like a leopard springing, seized his girdle,
Unseated him, and hurled him to the ground,
Then, driving him afoot, brought him to camp,
Disgraced. With that the flag of matchless Rustam
Was seen approaching mid the tramp of troops
And elephants; the prince went to his father
As quick as dust and told of his success.
In front was Surkha with his hands in bonds,
There lay the severed neck of Warázád;
The plain and hollows were all filled with slain,
The foe in full retreat. The soldiers blessed
The brave, young paladin, while peerless Rustam
Gave blessings to him also and bestowed
Great largess on the poor. Of Farámarz
Is raised o'er others must have noble nature,
Instruction, prowess, and befriending wisdom:
His nature using these will bring the world
Beneath his feet by virtue of his manhood.
Thou seest naught but brightness in a flame,
Yet he is burned that toucheth. 'Tis not strange
That Farámarz should triumph, for the heart
Of steel is full of fire, and when steel fighteth
With flint the secret of its heart is shown.”
Then elephantine Rustam looked on Surkha—
A noble Cypress of the garth was he,
His breast was like a lion's, and his cheeks
Were like the spring, cheeks where black musk was
traced
On roses—bade men bear him to the plain,
And executioners with bowl and dagger,
To make his hands fast in the lasso's coils,
To throw him like a sheep upon the ground,
Behead him as was done to Siyáwush,
And let the vultures be his winding-sheet.
When Tús the general heard he went in haste
To do the bloody deed. Then Surkha said:—
“O most exalted king! why slay me guiltless,
For Siyáwush was of my years, my friend?
My soul was full of pain and grief for him,
By day and night my eyes o'erflow with tears;
I ever oped my lips to curse the man
By whom the prince's head was stricken off—
The man that brought the dagger and the bowl.”
The heart of Tús was very pitiful
For that illustrious but luckless prince.
The pleading of the Turkman monarch's son,
But Rustam answered: “If there be a king
Who should be thus heart-seared and sad, then may
The heart and spirit of Afrásiyáb
Be ever full of pain, his eyes of tears.
This youth, engendered by those recreant loins,
Will but employ fresh stratagems and guile.
As Siyáwush was laid upon the ground
With shoulders, breast, and hair bedrenched with
blood,
So by the head and life of Kai Káús,
The glorious, noble ruler of Írán,
I swear that every Turkman that I find
Throughout my life, be he a king or slave,
So he be of these marches and this folk,
I will behead.”
And therewithal that Lion
Looked at Zawára and commanded him
In peremptory tones to do the deed
Of blood. He took the dagger and the bowl,
And gave the youth to executioners,
Who cut his throat—a cry, and all was over.
What wouldst thou, world! with those whom thou
hast fed?
Fed! Say thy broken-hearted slaves instead!
Then Rustam took the head off, hung the trunk
Feet upward on a gibbet, and flung dust
In vengeance on the corpse, which afterwards
The soldiers hacked to pieces with their swords.
When the Túránian troops returned from battle,
Their bodies bloody and their heads all dust,
They said: “The noble chieftain hath been slain,
His eager fortune hath been overturned,
And they have set his severed head and body
Blood-boltered upside down upon a gibbet!
The people of Írán are all in arms,
Their hearts ache with revenge for Siyáwush.”
Afrásiyáb hung down his head and crown,
Plucked out his hair, shed tears, and rent his robes,
“O prince! O gallant heart! O warrior!
O chief! O man of name! O hero! King!
Woe for that moonlike cheek of cercis-bloom!
Woe for that royal breast and mien and stature!
Thy sire shall ne'er seek rest unless it be
Upon his charger's saddle on the field.”
Then to his men: “Our ease and feasts are over.
Keep ye your eyes wide open for revenge,
And make your jerkin and cuirass your bed.”
Rose at his gate the din of kettledrums:
His warriors armed. Upon the elephants
The trumpets blared, the world was like a sea
Of indigo, and when they bound the drums
Upon the elephants heaven kissed the earth.
Then said the king: “Ye chiefs and warriors!
When both sides sound the drum he is no soldier
That laggeth. Let our hearts be full of vengeance,
Full as the bodies of our foes with javelins!”
Thus spake he to the troops, then bade to sound
The clarions, cymbals, and the Indian bells.
Arose the war-cry and the blare of trumpets,
The din of cornet, pipe, and kettledrum,
Earth shook beneath the trampling of the steeds,
The shoutings of the soldiers reached the clouds.
Now when that army's dust rose from the plain
One came to vengeful Rustam and spake thus:—
“Afrásiyáb the chieftain is at hand;
His troops move like a vessel o'er the sea.
All have prepared for combat and revenge,
And set their hands to blood.”
Now when he heard:—
“The monarch of Túrán hath come in sight,”
The troops marched forth with Káwa's flag; the air
Turned blue with warriors' swords; a shout arose
Thou wouldst have said: “The sun and moon are
darkened,
A crocodile hath swallowed up the stars!”
The monarch of Túrán arrayed his men,
Who grasped their maces and two-headed darts.
Upon the right Bármán came proudly on
Before his troops, Kuhram was at the left,
And in the centre was the king in person.
On his side Rustam too arrayed his host,
And earth was lost in dust. He took the centre
With Farámarz in front and in the rear
Zawára; on the left he placed Gúdarz,
Hajír, and other chiefs. He stationed Gív,
And Tús—those wary horsemen—on the right
With trump and drum, then armed himself for battle,
And eased his heart by vengeance. Earth became
Musk-black with troops, air like a leopard's back
With spears. “It is an iron mount whose crest
Is full,” thou wouldst have said, “of helms and mail.”
The staff-heads of the banners rose towards
The clouds, and brightly flashed the blue-steel swords.
Pílsam with angry looks and vengeful heart
Came to the centre to Afrásiyáb,
And said: “O full of wisdom, famous king!
Of charger, helmet, falchion, and cuirass
I will myself to-day encounter Rustam,
And cover all his name with infamy,
Will bring to thee his head, his steed, his mace,
And world-apportioning sword.”
The king rejoiced
Thereat and raised his spearpoint o'er the sun,
Then answered: “O thou Lion of renown!
In sooth no elephant will conquer thee.
If thou dost take that elephantine chief
The age will rest from strife, and not a man
Within Túrán shall equal thee in rank,
In throne, in signet-ring, in crown, and sword.
Thou wilt exalt my head to turning heaven,
And I will give to thee my crown and daughter;
The more part of Írán and of Túrán
With treasures, gems, and cities shall be thine.”
Pírán was grieved and, coming to the king,
Said to him: “This young man in his rash youth
Is laying violent hands upon himself,
For, if he combat with the matchless Rustam,
He will but lay his own head in the dust.
The king will share in his disgrace, 'twill break
The spirit of the troops: he is, thou knowest,
My younger brother, and my love for him
Is greater than an elder brother's love.”
Pílsam rejoined: “My heart doth not misgive me,
And, if I fight this warlike Crocodile,
By thy good fortune I will bring no shame
Upon the king. Thou once beheld'st my prowess
In fighting with four famous warriors,351
And verily my strength is greater now.
It is not right of thee to break my spirit;
The enterprise is well within my reach:
Haunt not the portal of an evil star.”
The monarch, hearing what Pílsam replied,
A sword, and massive mace. Pílsam made ready,
And lionlike impetuously advanced,
Exclaiming to the Íránians: “Where is Rustam,
Who is, they say, a Dragon on the day
Of battle? Bid him come to fight with me,
For I am ready to encounter him.”
Gív, furious at the challenge, drew his sword
And answered: “Rustam fighteth not one Turkman,
'Twould be disgrace.”
The champions closed. Pílsam
Struck with his spear at Gív, who in dismay
Lost both his stirrups. Farámarz saw this,
And went at once to aid his gallant comrade;
He struck athwart Pílsam's spear with his sword,
And cut it like a reed; he struck once more,
The blade was shivered on his foeman's helm,
Who wheeled like some fierce lion on the plain
With those two warriors. Rustam from the centre
Espied them fighting with one lion-man,
The dust sent cloud-ward with their wind-like speed,
And thought: “Pílsam alone among the Turkmans
Hath dash and spirit.” He had heard moreover
From hoar archmages and astrologers,
Amid his wanderings, how the stars foretold
That: “If Pílsam survive his evil day,
And heed his counsellors, no warrior
Like him in all the world shall gird his loins
For battle in Írán or in Túrán,”
For he hath set forth to encounter me.”
He spake thus to his troops: “Let none advance
A single step from where he standeth now.
I go to prove the prowess of Pílsam,
And try his lustihood, his strength, and spirit.”
He took a weighty spear, gripped fast his steed
With both his legs, and, putting on his helmet,
Pressed on the stirrups, let the reins hang loose,
And lowered the shining spear-head to his eye.
He wheeled about and foaming at the lips
Rushed from the centre toward the foemen's lines,
And cried: “O famed Pílsam! thou called'st me
To scorch me with thy breath! Thou shalt behold
The onslaught of the warrior-crocodile,
And ne'er turn rein toward a battle more.
My heart is burned with pity for thy youth:
Alas for thine estate of paladin!”
He spake and urged his charger on. He came
To battle like high heaven. With his spear
He smote Pílsam upon the girdlestead,
And took him from the saddle like a ball,
Rushed to the centre of the Turkman host
And there flung down the corpse contemptuously,
Exclaiming: “Dress it in brocade of gold,
For now 'tis lapislazuli with dust!”
Then wheeling round he went back to the centre.
Pírán rained tears; the body of Pílsam
Was past a leech's skill. The heart of all
The army of the monarch of Túrán
Was broken and the battlefield was darkened.
Keen for the fray, the drumming on the backs
Of elephants, were heard for miles around.
Earth trembled with the chargers' tramp, the hills
Were seas of blood, the plains were hills of slain.
The cries and blaring clarions shook the sky,
The stones were coral and the dust was gore;
The heads of many chieftains were laid low,
And thou hadst said: “The sky is raining blood.”
It was no time for love 'twixt sire and son.
A breeze arose upon the battlefield,
And murky dust usurped the firmament.
Then both hosts charged with fury o'er the plain
While neither could distinguish foe from friend;
The world became as sombre as the night,
And day in sooth had well nigh spent its light.