Šāh-nāmah - The Šahnama of Firdausi, Volume 2

>genealogy<

>graphic<

>genealogy<

>graphic<

á as in “water.”

í as in “pique.”

ú as in “rude.”

a as in “servant.”

i as in “sin.”

u as in “foot.”

ai as i in “time.”

au as ou in “cloud.”

g is always hard as in “give.”

kh as ch in the German “buch.”

zh as z in “azure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hearing this

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

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

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

At this good news

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Sháh prepared

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

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

He gathered troops,

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

A century passed,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Firdausí omits the intermediate generation.

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

and was, so to speak, at his meridian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now as it chanced

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zál answered:

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

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

Zál heard,

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

Thus Gív. Zál, clasping to his heart

The warriors, made ready to depart.

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

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

The White Dív spread

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

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

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

Said Zál:—

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

Rustam answered:—

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

He said: “Good mother!

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

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

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

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

“I am Rustam,”

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

The dragon closed with him,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In the lasso's coi??ls

There was a fetid hag all guile and wrinkle,

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

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

Ulád said: “Be not wroth,

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

From the Buzgúsh,^55a

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

The words made Rustam laugh.

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

Rustam slept

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

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

He went girt up—all battle and revenge;

The White Dív also thought:—

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

Such was his wretched comfort!

But still they wrestled, streaming blood and sweat,

“I give thee all

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

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

They anointed his dim eyes,

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

The son

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

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

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

The Sháh replied:—

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

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

The matchless Rustam

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

He gave the letter—

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

The king was wroth;

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

Instantly

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

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

Káús replied:—

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

Rustam urged

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

“Be not too sure,” he answered

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

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

The warriors heard

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

The Sháh bade some

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

The sorcerer heard,

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

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

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

Thou hast heard

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

Káús makes a progress through his realm. He wars against the kings of Barbar, Misr, and Hámávarán; he marries Súdába, the daughter of the king of Hámávarán, and through treachery is taken captive by him. On this the Arabs and Afrásiyáb both invade Írán and fight for its possession. The Íránians in despair appeal to Rustam, who rescues Kai Káús, defeats Afrásiyáb, and reinstates the Sháh, who, warned by past experience, rules justly for a time, rises to the height of his power, and builds himself great palaces on Mount Alburz. Afterward he falls again into temptation, tries to mount to heaven, is rescued again by Rustam, again repents, and again is restored to power. The Part concludes with an account of one of Rustam's raids into Túrán.

§§ 1-6. In the accounts of Kai Káús' two expeditions to Bar-baristán we have a duplication of tradition.

The late Professor Darmesteter has thrown considerable light on that obscure subject, Firdausí's geography in this part of the poem.⁷⁹

There are several Barbars, and he points out that the one here intended is the Berbera nearly opposite Aden in the British Somali Coast Protectorate. It is the Pun-t of the Egyptian hiero-glyphs, and was then and is still a great trading station. When the south-west monsoon changes into the north-east wind thousands of traffickers begin to arrive, and the place is kept busy from October to April. Further, he points out with regard to Hámávarán that it is a form of the word Himyar, which is another name for Yaman. We may therefore conclude that Firdausí's notion was that Kai Káús marched from Nimrúz to the sea-coast of Makrán (Balúchistán), there built his fleet, sailed past the southern shores of Arabia, and reached some spot north of Berbera on the western shore of the Red Sea. He would then, as Firdausí says, have Misr (Egypt) on his left hand, Barbar on his right, and the sea between him and his objective Hámávarán (Yaman), which confronted him across it. The matter has become confused from the fact that Firdausí had just stated that the people of Misr and Shám (Syria) had rebelled against Kai Káús, and therefore Hámávarán has been assumed to mean Syria. We may add that the two historians Tabarí and Ma??'údí both mention Kaí Káús' expedition to Yaman, and so far, though their accounts differ considerably from Firdausí's, support Professor Darmesteter's elucidation of this episode.⁸⁰

The matter has been further confused by Firdausi's use of the word “Zirih” in this part of his work. The word is usually employed in connexion with the lakes and swamps of Sístán, which formally were much more extensive.^80a

The word, however, is merely an older (Pahlaví) form of the modern Persian “daryá,” a sea, lake, or river. It has come, however, to be regarded as a proper name, and such an expression as “the sea of Zirih” is not only tautological but distinctly misleading. We translate “Zirih” sea. The expedition of Kai Káús looks like an attempt to capture an ancient trade-route.

The marriage of Kai Káús with the daughter of the king of Hámávarán is the cause of serious trouble later on, as will appear in Part IV.

The reference to Syria and a certain similarity of circumstance suggest that in the account of the treacherous capture of Kai Káús by the king of Hámávarán we have a distorted historical reminiscence of the overthrow of Antiochus Sidetes in the early spring of B.C. 128 or 129. Mithridates I., in the course of a reign of thirty-eight years (B.C. 174-136), had extended the narrow bounds of the Parthian kingdom both eastward and westward, to the Hindu Kush and to the Euphrates respectively. Westward the increase had taken place at the expense of the Seleucid kingdom of Syria. The successor of Mithridates—Phraates II.—made no attempt to enlarge his empire, but the king of Syria—Antiochus Sidetes— took the first opportunity to attempt to recover the provinces of which he had been deprived by Mithridates. He led a large and splendidly equipped host into Babylonia and thrice defeated Phraates II., who, though worsted, was not conquered, and still maintained himself with an army in the country. The three great cities of Babylon, Seleucia, and ??esiphon, however, fell into the hands of the Syrians. Winter came on, and Antiochus Sidetes, resolved to maintain his advantage, distributed his forces throughout the cities and towns of Babylonia with the intention of renewing operations in the spring. The Syrian troops with their motley entourage of camp-followers, cooks, actors, etc., soon made themselves intolerable to the natives among and upon whom they were quartered. An understanding was entered into with Phraates II., who promised to be at hand with his army, and at a given signal the Syrian invaders, who were thoroughly enjoying themselves after their campaign and had been kept wholly ignorant of the impending danger, were attacked throughout Babylonia, and either massacred or taken captive. Antiochus Sidetes himself perished, his son Seleucus was taken prisoner and his niece as well, whom Phraates II, married.⁸¹

§§ 4 and 7. In the account of the invasion of Írán by the Arabs during the captivity of Kai Káús in Hámávarán, and their defeat by Afrásiyáb, we seem to have a reference to the invasions and conflicts that were actually going on during the period when the Zandavasta was being compiled or reconstructed, i.e. during the third century after the Christian era.^81a

In the Zandavasta we read: “We sacrifice unto the awful kingly Glory, made by Mazda. … It was that Glory that Thraétaona bore with him when Azi Daháka was killed; that Glory that Frangrasyan, the Turanian, bore when the wicked Zainigau was killed.”^81b

In the greater Bundahish we read: “There was a fiend called Zinígáv who had poison in his eye: he had come from the country of the Arabs to reign on Iran-Shahr: any man he gazed at with his evil eye, he killed. The Iránians called Frásyáv into their country, he killed that Zinígáv.”^81c

In the Bundahish Záínígáv is said to have been the grandfather of Zahhák,^81d

the great protagonist of the Arab race in the Sháh??áma.^81e

The Íránians, when they had to choose between the Túránians and the Atabs, preferred the former. Even the arch-enemy Afrásiyáb is allowed to have possessed for a while the divine Grace of kingship^81f

when he opposed the common foe, the Arabs.^81g

§§ 8-10. We are told in the Dínkard that Kai Káús built himself seven dwellings on Mount Alburz, one of gold, two of silver, two of steel, and two of crystal, that he warred against the divs of Mázandarán and fell into a trap which they laid to destroy him. To this end one of them undertook to tempt him by making him discontented with his earthly sovereignty and inducing him to aspire to that of the sky of the archangels. He yielded to the tempter. Consequently the divine Glory left him, and he was only saved from destruction by the fravashi, or immortal principle, of the as yet unborn Kai Khusrau. Néryósang, the messenger of Urmuzd, was about to smite Káús when the fravashi cried out: “Thou shouldst not smite him, O Néryósang … for if thou shouldst smite this man … there will not be afterwards … a thorough destroyer of the high priest of Túrán; because owing to this man will be born him whose name is Síyávakhsh, and owing to Síyávakhsh I shall be born, who am the Khúsrói … so that I may accomplish the destruction of his champions and troops, when I would occasion a distant flight of the sovereign of Túrán.” Accordingly Káús was released and became discreet.⁸²

Underground dwellings, such as Kai Káús is said to have excavated for stabling purposes in connexion with his buildings, are very numerous in northern Írán.^82a

The reader will note that in § 9 we have Iblís where we should expect Áhriman, showing that this story came to Firdausí through the Arabia.^82b

§§ 11-14. In the story of the Fight of the Seven Warriors with which this part concludes we have an account of a border-foray of the Chevy Chase order. More than seven Íránian warriors, however, are mentioned.

When from the Íránian host

The trump and drum were heard Bahrám, Gurgín,
And Tús came forth and, where Gúdarz was stationed,

He then marched back

Well pleased to camp, and from Hámávarán
An envoy brought him treasures, stores of arms,
With emeralds and other gems and said:—
“O just and mighty lord! we chiefs and commons
Are dust upon thy feet and slaves of thine.
Be joyful and triumphant all thy years,
And be the heads and fortunes of thy foes
O'erturned.”

He kissed the ground and bore to Tús

The store of gold and gems, who therewithal
Gave to each man a largess great or small.

Anon one said to Kai Káús: “This monarch
Hath in his bower a daughter goodlier
In stature than a cypress, crowned with musk,
With locks like lassos, dagger-shaped of tongue,

He chose

A man of noble birth, shrewd, wise, and grave,
Bade him set forward to Hámávarán,
And said: “Dispose the king to favour me,
And charm his intellect with honied words.
Say thus to him: ‘The most redoubted chiefs
Throughout the world seek mine affinity
Because the sun is lighted from my crown,
Earth is the footing of mine ivory throne,
And one that sh??ltereth not beneath my shado
Hath little standing-room. I seek to be
Affined to thee and wash the face of peace.
Now I have heard that thou hast in thy bower
A daughter who is worthy of my state,
Immaculate in form and countenance,
Praised everywhere by all. Thou wilt obtain
The son of Kai Kubád as son-in-law,
For know that Sol thus favoureth thy cause.’”
This shrewd man with the ready tongue approached
The ruler of Hámávarán, adorned
His tongue with eloquence, his heart with zeal,
And furnished forth his lips with courtesies,
He gave that monarch greeting from Káús,
Then did the embassage, which pained the king,
Who thought: “Though he be king of kings and world-
lord
Victorious and obeyed, I have no daughter
But this, and she is dearer than sweet life;
Yet if I slight and spurn this messenger

He called Súdába,

And full of sorrow spake thus of Káús:—
“A courteous envoy hath arrived and brought
A letter from that mighty lord, who lacketh
Naught that is great and good, to this effect:—
He would deprive me, though I wish it not,
Of heart-repose and all my peace of mind.
What dost thou say now? What is thine own wish?
What is thy shrewd decision in this case?”
Súdába answered: “If this must be so
There is no need to sup on grief to-day.
Why grieve at union with the king of earth,
Who can deprive the mighty of their lands?
This is not grief but joy.”

The king perceived

That she was not unwilling, called the envoy,
And gave him the chief place. They made a compact,
Each with the rites and sanctions then obtaining.

Meanwhile the father grieved and sought a cure;
So eight days afterward he sent at dawn
A messenger to Kai Káús to say:—
“If now the Sháh will be mine honoured guest
The people of Hámávarán will be
Much honoured too when they behold his face.”

They told her sire,

Who was enraged and, eager for revenge,
Dispatched her to his fortress, broken-hearted
With blood-stained checks to join her husband there.
Thenceforth she sat in sorrow with the king
Engaged in tending him and comforting.

The ambitious Sháh being bound, his army made
Toward Írán, and having passed the sea
In ships and transports crossed the desert homeward.
When they arrived 'twas bruited through the realm:—
“The Cypress-tree is missing from the garden,
The throne of king of kings is overturned.”
Now when men saw the golden throne left void
They all desired the crown; upon each side
Great hosts of Turkmans and of desert-spearmen
Approached, cries rose from both sides of Írán,
And peace was changed to strife. Áfrásiyáb
Joined battle fiercely with the Árábian host;
They fought three months, and many heads were
lost
To win a crown, the Arabs were o'erthrown,
And all their gain was loss. The Turkman troops
O'er-ran the country and enslaved the folk.
It is the custom of this Wayside Inn
That greed should bring both travail and chagrin;
At last both good and evil pass away;
Death is the hunter and this world his prey.
The people said: “Our fortunes are o'erturned,
We are confronted with a grievous case.
Woe for Írán, for it is desolate,
The lair of pards and lions! 'Twas erewhile
All warrior-horsemen and the seat of kings,
But now a scene of hardship and of bale,
The dwelling-place of dragons sharp of claw!
Seek we a remedy and banish care.
One fed on leopards' milk shall succour us;
Dispatch we then a sage in state to Rustam.”
An archmage went to him and told the tidings,
And Rustam, deeply moved, wept tears of gall.
He answered: “I and mine are girt for vengeance.
First I will see about Káús, then sweep
The Turkman from Írán.”

He summoned troops,

Who flocked to him out of Zábul, Kábul,
And Hindústán. Throughout his wide domain
Arose the sound of trump and Indian bell.
The heart of Rustam raged like fire; he led
The army forth and like a storm-wind sped.

Then Rustam sent a wary messenger
To make his way to Kai Káús and say:—
“I am approaching with a mighty host
To fight the ruler of Hámávarán.
Be glad of heart and feed not on thy grief:
Behold! I am already in the land.”
Withal a man of name among the chiefs
Went to the ruler of Hámávarán,
And Rustam wrote to him in warlike terms
A letter all mace, scimitar, and fray:—
“Thou hast entrapped our Sháh and broken faith.
It is not manly to use guile in war,
Nor art thou dour like the bold crocodile

As he read the letter

The king turned dizzy, and the world grew dark
Before his eyes. He answered: “Kai Káús
Shall never set foot on the plain, and when
Thou comest to Barbaristán, and all
Thy cavaliers have fled, a chain and pit
Are ready for thee too. If these delights
Allure thee I, according to our custom,

When Rustam heard

The answer, and the chieftains had assembled,
The trumpets sounded and he mounted Rakhsh.
He went by sea because the way by land
Was tedious, crossing to Hámávarán
With all his mighty host in ships and transports.
The troops were ready both to spoil and slay,
And banished all compunction from their hearts.
Now when the monarch of Hámávarán
Had news of vengeful Rustam and his host
He raged, the war-cry rose, and all the world
Seethed up in blood and pillage. Rustam donned
His armour, mounted on the snorting Rakhsh,
And shouldering his mace charged furiously.
Whenas the foemen saw his chest and arms,
And how he handled mace and battle-ax,
Thou wouldst have said: “They have no hearts at
all.”
They scattered in their fear of him, and thus
That great host fled back to Hámávarán.
The king in conclave summoned two young men
In order to dispatch them to Barbar
And Misr, like rushing wind, each with a letter
Penned in distress of heart with blood for ink,
And thus it ran: “Our realms confine, we share
In good and evil, and in fight and feast.
If ye will join with me I fear not Rustam
In fight; if not, the evil will extend,
And evil's hand extendeth on all sides.”
Whenas the letter reached the kings, announcing
That Rustam led his host across the desert,
They feared, bestirred themselves, arrayed their powers
And marched toward Hámávarán. The land
Became all hill, troops stretched from range to range,
And dust obscured the moon. Then Rustam sent
A warrior in haste to Sháh Káús
By stealth to say: “The monarchs of three realms
Approach to fight—brave men who shall not know
Their heads from feet when I encounter them;
But thou must not be injured by our strife
Since evil men are prone to outrages,
And e'en Barbar's throne would avail me not
If ill befell the person of the Sháh.”
Káús made answer: “Have no care for this;
The earth was not spread out for me alone,
And bane will mix with sweets and love with hate
While heaven turneth. God too is my friend,
My refuge, and my stronghold is His love.
Give Rakhsh the rein, and level to his ears
Thy lance's point; let not a foe remain
In arms or hiding.”

Matchless Rustam heard,

Armed, and went forth to battle, urged fleet Rakhsh
Along, and challenged all the world to fight,
Then stood alone and glared upon the foe,
But no one dared though Rustam waited long,
Until bright Sol was setting in the sea,
And dark-hued night was coming on apace.
Then that great elephantine chief returned,
And rested in his tent till night was passed;
The next day, when the sun grew bright again,
He came forth and arrayed his mighty men.

Next day they set the battle in array
And raised their standards. When the peerless Rustam
Had led his forces to the field, and viewed
The armies of three monarchs and three realms,
He thus harangued his noble warriors:—
“Keep your eyelashes well apart to-day,
And look to mane and forelock, steed and rein,
With both eyes on your spearpoints. Be the foe
A hundred or a hundred thousand horse
Their sum importeth not for, since the All-holy
Is our ally, I will bring down their heads
To dust.”

The monarchs on their side were seated

On elephants; their forces stretched two miles.
Barbaristán sent eight score elephants
All foaming like the Nile, Hámávarán
Contributed a hundred more—huge beasts—
And had a line of battle two miles long,
And thirdly was arrayed the power of Misr.
The atmosphere was darkened, earth was hidden,
And thou hadst said: “The world is all of iron,”
Or: “Mount Alburz hath donned a coat of mail.”
Behind the warriors' backs amid the dust
Waved flags of yellow, red, and violet;
The mountains echoed with the heroes' shouts,
And earth was weary of the tramp of steeds.
Then were the claws and hearts of lions rent,
And lusty eagles flung their plumes away,
The clouds of heaven melted in mid air,
For how could anything oppose such troops?
The Íránians ranked the host to right and left,
The heroes longed for battle and revenge.
Guráza held the right where was the baggage,
Upon the left was glorious Zawára—
A Dragon and a Lion in the fray—
While Rustam at the centre, with coiled lasso

of blood, not like a field
Of elephantine Rustam's.” Helméd heads
Were smitten off, and plain and hollow strewn
With mail. The peerless hero urged on Rakhsh
And, deigning not to slaughter common folk,
Charged at the king of Shám and lassoed him
(Thou wouldst have said the lasso crushed his waist),
Then snatched him from the saddle, like a ball
Struck by a polo-stick, and flung him down.
Bahrám made fast his hands. They captured sixty
Of name and deluged plain and hill with blood.
The monarch of Barbar and forty chiefs
Were taken prisoners by Guráza's hand,

The envoy

Spurred forth toward Barbaristán, the Sháh
Received the letter couched in such fair terms,
Then wrote a letter to Afrásiyáb:—
“Quit thou Írán and limit thine ambition.
I wonder much at what I hear of thee.
Thou hast no wants, thou joyest in Túrán;
Then be not covetous or fondly grasping
At ill, which soon will bring thee lengthy toils.
A smaller matter is enough for thee—
To save thy skin. Dost know not that Írán
Is my seat, earth all mine? The boldest leopard
Will never dare to face the lion's claws.”

He equipped his troops,

And marched in person to oppose Káús,
Who, when he heard, arrayed a boundless host
And from Barbar marched to Arabia
To meet Afrásiyáb; the world was filled
With trump and tymbal-din, the sky was ebony,

Who maketh heaven redden with his sword,
Be bold and take him captive with your lassos.
Whoever on the battlefield shall bring him
Down from the pard-skin to the dust shall have
A realm, a parasol, my daughter's hand,
And be entitled ‘captain of the host;’
Him will I make the lord of all Írán,
And will exalt him to revolving heaven.”
Thereat the Turkmans rallied to the fight.
With massive maces in their hands the brave,

Káús arrived at Párs, the world began
An age of happiness. He acted justly,
Adorned the throne, and gave free scope to feasting;
He sent forth wise and noble paladins
With troops to all parts—Marv and Níshápúr,
Harát and Balkh. Then justice ruled the world;
The wolf eyed not the lamb. Such were his treasures,
His state, and Grace, that fairies, men, and dívs
Served him, all were his lieges, other kings
Were soldiers in his host. He gave the office
Of paladin of paladins to Rustam—
The author of his weal—and wearied out
The dívs to build himself on Mount Alburz
Two mansions, each ten lassos long, which they
Constructed at his bidding of hard stone.
He excavated stables in the rocks,
The columns were of stone with clamps of steel,

One dawn Iblís, unknown to Kai Káús.
Addressed the assembled dívs: “Our daily task
Is one of cruel labour for the Sháh.

They heard

And mused. None answered, for they feared Káús.
At length a wicked dív arose and said:—
“Be mine this subtile task. I will pervert
His mind from God as none but I can do.”
Appearing as a youth of good address
And mien, he waited till the famous Sháh
Went hunting from Pahlav. The dív approached
With roses to present, then kissed the ground,
And said: “Thy glory and thy Grace are such
That heaven is thy fit home and earth thy slave;
Thou art the shepherd, nobles are the sheep.
One thing is lacking still—that thou shouldst leave
Thine everlasting mark upon the world.
How is it that the sun concealeth from thee
The secret of its rising and its setting?
What is the moon? What are the night and day,
And who is master of the turning sky?
Thou hast the earth and all thou didst desire;
Now take the heaven also in thy toils.”
The Sháh's heart strayed, he tarried not to think,
Convinced that turning heaven favoured him.
He knew not that the sky is ladderless,
Nor that, though stars be many, God but One,

The astrologers replied.

He chose a futile and perverse device:
He bade men scale the aeries while the eagles
Were sleeping, take a number of the young,
And keep a bird or two in every home.
He had those eaglets fed a year and more
With fowl, kabáb, and at some whiles with lamb.
When they were strong as lions and could each
Bear off a mountain-sheep he made a throne
Of aloe from Kumár¹⁰³

with seats of gold.
He bound a lengthy spear at every corner,
Suspended a lamb's leg from every spear-head,
Brought four strong eagles, tied them to the throne,
And took his seat, a cup of wine before him.
The swift-winged eagles, ravenous for food,
Strove lustily to reach the flesh, and raising
The throne above earth's surface bore it cloudward.
Káús, as I have heard, essayed the sky
To outsoar angels, but another tale
Is that he rose in this way to assail
The heaven itself with his artillery.
The legend hath its other versions too;
None but the All-wise wotteth which is true.
Long flew the eagles, but they stopped at last,

The world preserved him by a miracle,
But hid its secret purposes therein.
In answer to his prayers a duck^104a

appeared,
For something must be had to eat and drink,
And if Sháh Kai Káús had perished there
Worldlord Khusrau had not been born from him.^104b

Instead of sitting on his throne in might
His business then was penitence and travail.
He tarried in the wood in shame and grief
Imploring from Almighty God relief.

While thus the Sháh sought pardon his own host
Was searching for him everywhere. When Rustam
With Gív and Tús gat news of him they marched
With many troops and drums. Said old Gúdarz
To Rustam: “Since my mother suckled me
I have been conversant with crown and throne,
With kings and great men of unsleeping fortune,
But have not seen in all the world a man
'Midst high and low so self-willed as Káús.
He hath no wisdom, common sense, or Faith,
He is wrong-headed and wrong-hearted too.
Thou wouldest say: ‘He hath no brains, his thoughts
Are all awry.’ None of the great of yore

To strive with death is but a bootless strife,
Such is the moral taught by Rustam's life.
A minstrel whom a lion once surprised—
A man of valiant heart—thus moralised:—
“If thou wouldst have the glory of the brave,
And wouldst imbrue in blood an Indian glave,
Seek not to spare thyself, for destiny
Will not be balked when 'tis the time to die.
If, being wise, thou keepest death in sight
The brave will count thee not a man of might.
Both Faith and wisdom sanction not this course,
But their good teaching is enslaved by force.”

now beaconeth the way.
The great men of Írán— a famous band—
Tús and Gudárz son of Kishwád, Bahrám
And Gív—both noble men—Gurgín and Zanga,
Kharrád and Gustaham, that haughty swordsman
Barzín and, crown of all the band, Guráza,
Assembled at the place of banqueting,
Each with his meiny—an illustrious throng.
They spent a while at polo, wine, and hunting,
And, when they all were merry, Gív bemused
Said thus to Rustam: “O illustrious chief!
Come let us, if thou hast a mind to hunt,
Hide from the great Afrásiyáb's preserves
The sun's resplendent visage with the dust
Of horsemen, cheetahs, hawks, and our long spears.
There let us chase the rapid onager,
O'ercome the lion with the sword, and take
Boars with the spear and pheasants with the hawk
Throughout the livelong day. Come let us go

The chief

Of all the offspring of Gívgán—Guráza—
Girt him for that emprise. With such a watchman
The ruses of the foe were nothing worth.
The others hunted in security.
At length Afrásiyáb gat news of them
At sleeping-time and called his veteran chiefs,
Discoursed to them at large of Rustam, told them
About the seven warriors—lion-like
And gallant cavaliers—and thus he said:—
“We must not dally, but devise a ruse,
And fall upon them unawares. If we
Can seize these seven warriors we shall straiten
The world for Kai Káús. We must go forth
As if to hunt and take them by surprise.”
He chose him thirty thousand famous swordsmen,

“O glory of the monarch and the chiefs!”
Said Gív to Rustam, “I will seize and hold
The bridge against the foe, so that our men

With strung bow

He ran toward the bridge but found the king
Across already leading on his van.
Then matchless Rustam donned his tiger-skin,
Bestrode his huge fell Elephant, and went
With roarings like a bellowing crocodile
Against the Turkman host. Thou wouldst have said
That when Afrásiyáb caught sight of Rustam
Mailed, with such hands and breast and arms and neck
And shouldered battle-axe, he swooned away.
Tús and Gúdarz, the wielders of the lance,
Gurgín and Gív, the gallant cavaliers,
Bahrám, Barzín, Farhád, and Zanga son
Of Sháwarán, the warriors, sprang up,
All with their spears and Indian swords in hand,
And ranged themselves like leopards for the combat.
Gív, like a lion that hath lost its prey,
Rushed to the fight and with his whirling mace
Laid many stalwart Turkman chieftains low.
Their fortune was averse, the fighting-men

There was a warrior, by name Pílsam,
Of royal race and eager for renown,
His sire was glorious Wísa and his brother
Victorious Pírán. Both in Írán
And in Túrán he had no peer save Rustam.
On hearing what Afrásiyáb had said
He frowned with rage and, hasting to the king,
Cried in his eager longing for the fray:—
“A youthful warrior of this host am I.
What dust before me are the valiant Tús
And gallant Gív—that Lion known to fame—
Bahrám and Zanga son of Sháwarán,
And brave Guráza! At the king's command
I will go lion-like, smite off their heads,
O'ercloud their moon, and bring their crowns to dust.”
The king replied: “O famous warrior!
May victory be thine. Thou must prevail
And come back conquering and glorious.”

The soldiers heard his voice,

And fell on Rustam in a mass, while he
Charged them in fury with the seven warriors.
They drave and routed all the Turkman host,
Incarnadined the land with brave men's blood,
And laid so many low that what with corpses
And trunkless heads no vacant space was seen
For troops to fight on, wheel, or pass between.

The fiery charger

Sped on so rapidly that thou hadst said:—
“His flanks have put forth wings!” Then Rustam
loosed
The lasso from the straps and aimed to catch
His foeman round the waist. The leathern noose
Fell on his helm; the Turkmans' leader snatched
His neck away; again the wind-foot steed
Beneath him sped like fire. Afrásiyáb
Escaped, but with wet cheeks and drouthy mouth,
While all his horsemen hurried after him
With spirits broken and with shattered arms.
He sped like wind and overpassed the stream
With stricken heart, his soldiers mostly slain:
He searched the world for honey and found poison.
Of treasures and of thrones, of crowns and girdles,
Of swords and jerkins, jewelry and helms,
Of noble steeds caparisoned with gold,
Of casques and scimitars with golden scabbards,

The poet, after justifying in his prelude the ways of God to man in the matter of early death, tells how Rustam, in the course of one of his hunting expeditions to Túrán, marries Tahmína, the daughter of the king of Samangán. Rustam returns to Írán and is subsequently informed by Tahmína, who has remained at Samangán, that she has borne him a son—Suhráb. In after years Suhráb joins the host of Afrásiyáb in an invasion of Írán in the hope of meeting his father, who has been misled by Tahmína into forming a false estimate of their son's person and prowess. After a series of tragie mi??adventures father and son meet in single combat with fatal results.

The story of Suhráb is purely episodie, it might be omitted from the present reign without any apparent solution of continuity, and it is the only tale in the whole Sháhnáma that is at all familiar to the English reader. It has been translated into English at least twice, and has been retold according to Western ideas by Matthew Arnold, who has also followed the incorrect account of the episode given in Sir John Malcolm's ‘History of Persia,’ i. 27, note, where Tahmína is represented as having informed Rustam that she had given birth to a daughter. The improbability of the story may thus be lessened for the English reader, but to the Oriental eye it is the very improbability that makes it so impressive, as being an illustration of the working out of destiny which frustrates the best intentions, over-rides all obstacles, and makes mankind the puppets of its will. There is no trace of this story in Pahlaví literature as at present known to us.

§ 8. White Castle, known also as Mount Sipand,¹¹⁸

probably is identical with the Spe??tódáta of the Zandavasta^118a

and the Spendyád mountain of the Bundahish.^118b

It was the scene of the death of Narímán, Rustam's great-grandfather, of Rustam's second exploit,¹¹⁹

and of the defeat and death at the hands of Káran of the Túránian hero Bármán,^119a

who, it is worth noting, has reappeared as if nothing had happened.^119b

Similarly Kulbád reappears.^119c

We are here introduced to a female warrior—Gurdáfríd—the only one in the poem, with the exception of Gurdya, the strong-minded and courageous sister of Bahrám Chubina. Gurdya, however, does not appear on the scene till the Sháhnáma is near its end. As for Gurdáfríd, she merely crosses Suhráb's path for a moment and nothing more is heard of her. This seems to show that the story of Suhráb was, like the rest of the Sháhnáma, based on existing materials. If Firdausí had invented the story himself it is almost inconceivable that he should not have made more of the relations between Suhráb and Gurdáfríd.^119d

I tell what rustic bard and archimage
Told from the legends of a bygone age:—
One morn in dudgeon Rustam rose to hunt,
Girt him, filled up his quiver, mounted Rakhsh,
And hied him to the marches of Túrán,
A savage Lion prowling after prey.
When he drew near the marches and beheld
The plain well stocked with onager, he flushed
Rose-like and smiled, then urging on his steed
He dropped much game with arrow, mace, and lasso.
He lit a fire with sticks, dry grass, and thorns,
Chose out a tree to serve him for a spit,

When Rustam woke

From pleasant sleep and needed docile Rakhsh
He looked about the mead but found him not,
Whereat in dudgeon and astound he hurried
Toward Samangán. “Now whither shall I trudge,”
He said, ‘to 'scape my dark soul's shame, or how,
Thus armed with quiver, mace, helm, scimitar,
And tiger-skin cuirass, shall I o'erpass

When Rustam drew near Samangán the king
And nobles heard: “The Crown-bestower cometh
Afoot for Rakhsh escaped him in the chace.”
The king's chief nobles, who wore crowns themselves,
Went forth to welcome Rustam, and all said:—
“Can this be Rustam or the rising sun?”
The monarch went to him afoot attended,
And asked: “Who dared to meet thee in the fight?
We of this city are thy friends and servants,
We and our goods are both at thy disposal,
The heads and lives most dear to us are thine.”
Then Rustam, seeing that the words were honest,
Replied: “In yonder meads my Rakhsh while ranging
Without a rein or halter strayed from me,
And I have traced him from the river-side

Rustam heard with joy,

And easy in his mind agreed to pay
A visit to the king who, greatly pleased,
Bestowed him in the palace and stood slave-like
Before him, then invited from the city
And army chiefs to entertain with Rustam,
And bade the cooks to spread the board. The guests
And minstrels strove to banish Rustam's gloom,
While black-eyed, rose-cheeked Idols of Taráz
Gave wine and feast and music greater charm.
At length bemused and drowsy Rustam went
To where the king had furnished for his guest
Musk and rose-water, and a place of rest.

in manhood
And character, and bring down soaring eagles.
The sun will scorch not him.”

He passed the night

In converse with his bride, and when the sun

Nine months passed and a moon-like babe was born;
Thou wouldst have said: “'Tis elephantine Rustam,”
Or else: “'Tis lion-Sám,” or “Narímán,”
And since the babe smiled and was bright of blee
Tahmína gave to him the name Suhráb.
He looked a year old in a month, his chest
Was like his sire's, at three he exercised
In arms, at five he had a lion-heart,
At ten none dared encounter him in fight.
He bluntly asked his mother once: “Now tell me,
Since none of my milk-fellows can compare
With me, and my head reacheth to the sky,
Of what stock am I and of what descent?
What shall I say when asked about my father?
Thou shalt not live unless thou answer me.”
His mother said: “Then listen and rejoice,
But be not rash. Thou art the son of Rustam,
The hero of the elephantine form,
The progeny of Zál the son of Sám,
And Narímán. Thy head out-toppeth heaven
Because thou comest of the famous stock,
For never since the Maker made the world
Hath there appeared a cavalier like Rustam,
Nor one like Sám the son of Narímán,
Whose head the heaven itself dared not to touch.”
She brought and showed a letter from his sire,
Three bright gems, and three purses filled with gold,
Sent to him by his father at his birth
With these words: “Guard these well, because thy sire
Hath sent them unto thee, O noble child!”
His mother said besides: “Afrásiyáb
Must not know aught hereof. He is the foe
Of Rustam and the troubler of Túrán.
May he ne'er seek revenge upon thyself
And slay the son in dudgeon at the sire.
Moreover, if thy father shall perceive
Of what a stamp thou art, so high and proud,
Then will he summon thee and rend my heart.”

He said moreover: “Thou shalt see my prowess,
But I must have a charger swift of foot
With hoofs of steel flint-shattering, in strength

quaketh;
His leap is like the lightning; on the mountains
He goeth like the raven; on the water
Like fish and water-fowl; upon the desert
Like shaft from bow, pursuing and o'ertaking
The enemy.”

Suhráb laughed out for joy,

And when they brought to him that glossy charger

He made him ready

To fight the Íránians, and a host assembled.
He then approached his grandsire, asking leave
To go, and help in going: “I am fain
To seek Írán and see my glorious sire.”
Thereat the king provided him with arms
Of every kind, thrones, diadems, and casques,
Steeds, camels, belts, gold, gems, and Rúman jerkins.
He marvelled at that youth of tender age
And freely gave a royal equipage.

Afrásiyáb had news: “Suhráb hath launched
His ship, a host hath gathered unto him.
Although his mouth still savoureth of milk
His mind is set on shaft and scimitar;
His sword will purge the earth, and now he seeketh
To fight Káús. He feareth none. Why more?
His prowess hath shown higher than his birth.”

White Castle was a stronghold of Írán

who was proud,
Renowned, and malapert, bore arms and fought
On horseback. As Suhráb approached, Hajír
Saw him and mounting on his steed like dust
Sped forth upon the field. Suhráb enraged,
And drawing forth the scimitar of fight,
Rushed from the host as 'twere a blast and cried:—
“O fool to throw thy life away and come
Alone! Sit tight and firmly grasp thy reins.
What are thy name and lineage? She that bare

Hajír replied:—

“Enough! I need no help in fighting thee.
Hajír am I, a warrior and chieftain.
I will take off thy head to send the Sháh
And leave the vultures to consume thy body.”
Suhráb laughed out and charged; both hurled their
spears
Too fast for eyes to follow. Brave Suhráb,
Strong as an elephant, came on like fire
Upon his moving mountain of a steed.
Hajír thrust at his waist; the spearpoint glanced,
Suhráb the Lion drove the weapon back,
Struck with the butt his f??e's waist lustily,
And threw him like a boulder to the earth,
As though the matter were not worth a thought,
Astound in heart and soul. Suhráb dismounted,
Sat on his foeman's breast, and had in mind
To cut his head off, but Hajír with effort
Turned on his right side and entreated quarter.
Suhráb accorded it, well satisfied,
Gave him some cautions, made him fast in bonds,
And sent him to Húmán. Those in the hold
On hearing what had chanced cried mournfully:—
“Hajír is lost among the enemy!”

When she whose sire was Gazhdaham had heard:—

Time pressed, she armed,
Concealed her tresses underneath her mail,
Secured her Rúman casque upon her head,
And came down, like a lion, from the hold
With girded waist upon a wind-foot steed.
She sped like dust and cried in thunder-tones:—
“What are these troops and who commandeth them?
What lusty Crocodile is there among you
To match himself with me in single combat?”
None volunteered until Suhráb beheld her.
He bit his lips and laughed. “Again,” said he,
“An onager hath come within the toils
Of him that hath both strength and scimitar.”
He armed like wind, put on a helm of Chín,
And rushed out to encounter Gurdáfríd,
Who when she saw him strung her bow up, drew it,
And broadened out her breast. No bird had found
A passage through her shafts; she showered them
Upon Suhráb and wheeled to left and right.
He saw and was abashed, waxed wroth and charged,
His shield above his head. Thus pressed she hung

She saw no other course,

So showed her face and said: “O warrior,
Midst warriors a lion! two hosts watch
Our prowess with the mace and scimitar,
And now that I have shown my face and hair
The troops will say: ‘He sent the dust-clouds flying
And all to fight a girl!’ 'Twill be disgrace
To persevere in such a fight as this.
Chiefs should be wise, so let us keep it dark
And save thee from reproach on mine account.
Our troops and stronghold are at thy command,
There is no need to fight, the castle, treasure,
And castellan are thine when thou shalt please.”
She showed her face, her smiles displayed the pearls
Within her jujube-lips, a garden she
In Paradise; no villager e'er set
So tall a cypress. She had eyes like deer's,
With arching eyebrows, and thou wouldst have
said:—
“She bloometh ever.”

“Keep thy word,” said he,

“For thou hast seen me on the day of battle.
Trust not yon castle-wall, it is not higher
Than heaven, and my mace will bring it down,
While no foe's lance will ever reach my neck.”

Then laughing much she went

Upon the ramparts to observe the foe,
Beheld Suhráb still mounted, and exclaimed:—
“O warrior of Túrán! why take such pains?
Be off with you and give up battlefields.”
Suhráb replied: “O fair of face! I swear
By crown and throne and sun and moon to raze
These ramparts to the ground and capture thee,
Thou minx! Thou wilt repent thy foolish words
When thou art writhing in thy helplessness.
Where is thy promise?”

But she laughed and mocked him:—

“The Turkmans win no helpmates from Írán,
And thou hast failed with me, but never mind!
Thou art no Turkman who art so commended
Among the great, and with such strength and limbs
Art peerless midst the paladins! However,

Now when Suhráb had gone old Gazhdaham
Called for a scribe to write to Kai Káús,
Then hurried off a speedy messenger
And, having praised the Sháh, reported thus:—
“A mighty host of valiant warriors
Attacketh us, led by a paladin,
Whose years do not exceed twice seven at most,
In stature taller than a lofty cypress,
And in his aspect like the shining sun.
His breast is lion-like, his mien is stately.
I have not looked on such a hand and mace

Whenas the sun rose o'er the mountain-heights
The soldiers of Túrán girt up their loins,
And spear in hand Suhráb the chief bestrode
His swift-paced charger, purposing to capture
The garrison and bind them like a flock;
But having, roaring like a lion, forced
The gates, he saw no man of name within,
For in the night the garrison had fled
With Gazhdaham, because beneath the hold
There was a way not wotted by the foe.

All agreed

That Gív should go to Rustam at Zábul
To say: “The throne of empire is in danger,”
And summon him to take the field for war,
Because the Íránians looked to him for shelter.
A scribe as they discussed was sitting by
In that the case was one of urgency.

The Sháh then bade indite to famous Rustam
A letter, and began by praising him:—
“Be thy heart prudent and thy spirit bright.
Know that a Turkman chieftain with his host
Hath come and is beleaguering White Castle.
He is a brave, heroic paladin,
In form an elephant, in heart a lion.
None in Írán can fight him; thou alone,
That art so good at need, canst dim his lustre,
Thou heart and back-bone of the Íránian chiefs,
Who hast the claws and might of lions! Thou
Didst take the country of Mázandarán,
And in Hámávarán undo our bonds.

This sealed

The Sháh gave swift as wind to gallant Gív,
And said: “Be instant, ply thy fleet steed's rein.

He gave command

To saddle Rakhsh and blow the brazen trumpets.
The horsemen of Zábul came at the call
In mail—a mighty army. He therein
Installed Zawára as chief paladin.

Tús and Gúdarz son of Kishwád met Rustam
One day's march from the court. Both he and they
Alighted and saluted heartily.
They reached the court all loyalty and mirth,
But, when they did obeisance, Kai Káús

But upon this the Sháh

Raged at them both, so that all present marvelled.
He bade Tús: “Go and hang them both alive,”
Arose himself, and flamed like fire from reeds,
While Tús drew near and seized the hand of Rustam,
To all the warriors' wonder, purposing
To lead him forth and to beguile his wrath;
But Rustam furious with Káús replied:—
“Indulge not such a fire within thy breast.
Thy deeds grow worse and worse! Thou art not fit
For sovereignty. Hang for thyself you Turkman
Alive, then rage and scorn thine enemies.
Mázandarán, Sagsár, Hámávarán,
Rúm, Misr, and Chín are all my charger's thralls,
My sword and arrows have transfixed their livers.

In his wrath he struck the hand

Of Tús, thou wouldst have said: “An elephant
Hath struck him!” Tús fell headlong to the ground
While Rustam passed him by with angry mien,
Went out, and mounted Rakhsh in wrath, exclaiming:—
“I conquer lions and distribute crowns,
And who is Sháh Káús when I am angry,
Or Tús that he should lay a hand on me?
My might and my successes are from God,
Not from the Sháh or host. Earth is my slave
And Rakhsh my throne, a mace my signet-ring,
A helm my crown; my mates are sparth and spearhead,
My two arms and my heart my Sháh. I lighten
Night with my sword and scatter heads in battle.
Why doth he vex me? I am not his slave
But God's. The warriors called me to be Sháh,
But I refused the throne of sovereignty
And looked to custom, law, and precedent.
Do I deserve thy words? Art thou my patron?
Mine was the throne. I set Kubád thereon.
What care I for Káús, his wrath and bluster?
If I had not fetched Kai Kubád myself,
When he had fallen into low estate,
And brought him to Írán from Mount Alburz,
Thou hadst not belt or vengeful scimitar,
Or might and majesty entitling thee
To speak a word to Zál the son of Sám.”

Thereupon Gúdarz

Made haste to go before the Sháh and said
Thus: “What hath Rustam done that thou shouldst
send
The dust up from Írán to-day? Art thou
Forgetful of Hámávarán, forgetful
Of what the dívs did in Mázandarán,
That thou sayst: ‘Put him living on the gibbet?’
Vain words become not Sháhs. When he hath gone,
And that great host and wolf-like paladin
Have come, whom hast thou left to take the field
And strew the dark dust o'er him? Gazhdaham
By sight or hearsay knoweth all thy warriors,
Yet saith: ‘Ne'er let a cavalier propose
To fight Suhráb. Small wisdom 'twere for any,
Though brave as Rustam, to encounter him.’
Kings should be wise, for haste and wrath avail not.”
The Sháh, perceiving that Gúdarz spake justly,
Repented of his folly and replied:—
“Thy rede is right; the old give best advice.

The hero said:—

“I need not anything of Kai Káús.
A saddle is my throne, a casque my crown,
My mail my raiment and my purpose death.
What is Káús to me? A pinch of dust.
Why should I fear or tremble at his wrath?
Do I deserve such unbecoming words
From one that I released from bonds and led
To crown and throne? Once in Mázandarán
I fought against the dívs, and once I fought
The monarch of Hámávarán and freed
Káús in his foe's grip from bonds and woe.

As soon as Rustam

Had had his fill of speech Gúdarz rejoined:—
“The Sháh and famous warriors suspect
That thou art frightened at this Turkman chief.
They say in private: ‘Gazhdaham was right,
Our fields and fells will know us now no more,
For sithens Rustam is afraid of fighting
'Tis not for thee and me to tarry here.’
I noticed that the Sháh's ill will and wrath
Made hue and cry at court, and all men spake
About the brave Suhráb. Eclipse not thou
Thy high fame in the world by this withdrawal,
And further, since a hostile host is near,
Dim not this crown and throne so wantonly,
For we have been insulted by Túrán,
And none whose Faith is pure approveth that.”
The matchless hero all amazed replied:—
“I would not live a coward, I would tear
My soul out first. I flee, as well thou knowest,
Because the monarch scorned me, not from fight.”
He shrank from that reproach, retraced his steps,
And came to Sháh Káús, who seeing him
Arose and thus excused what had occurred:—
“My temper is by nature choleric,
And trees must grow as God hath planted them.
Through this new, unexpected foe my heart
Was faint as a new moon. I sought a cure

When Sol had pierced night's pitch-hued cloak and
come

The Íránians

Set up the camp-enclosure of the Sháh
Before the castle on the open plain;
Men, tentage, and enclosures covered hill
And wilderness till naught was left to fill.

At sunset, when night's skirt trailed o'er the day,
Came Rustam girded and intent on war
Before the Sháh, and said: “Let me go forth
Without my belt and helmet. I will mark
Who this new worldlord is, who are the chiefs,
And who is in command.”

Káús replied:—

“The very work for thee, and mayst thou prosper
Both soul and body. God watch o'er thee ever,
And o'er thy heart's desire and loyal purpose.”
Assuming Turkman garb he reached by stealth
The hold and heard the Turkmans' shouts and clamour.
The gallant hero made his way inside,
As 'twere a lion after antelopes,
And saw and marked the chieftains one and all,
Joy mantling in his visage like a rose.
Now when Suhráb was going to the wars

Rustam told

His enterprise and what a lion-man
He had destroyed, while Gív applauded, saying:—
“May charger, mace, and saddle ne'er lack thee.”
Then Rustam going to the Sháh informed him
About the Turkmans and their banqueting,
About Suhráb, his stature and his mien,
His arms and shoulders, chest and feet, and said:—
“This is no Turkman born; he is as tall
And upright as a cypress, with no peer
In either land; in short 'tis Sám himself.”
Then of the blow on Zhanda Razm's neck
He said: “He came not back to feast or fight.”
They talked and after called for harp and wine,
But all the night the troops were ranked in line.

Now when the sun held up its golden shield
Fate also raised its head upon the sky.
Suhráb put on his battle-mail and mounted
Upon a charger dark as indigo.
An Indian sword was slung across his breast,
And on his head he wore a royal helmet,
While from his saddle-straps his lasso hung
In sixty coils. His face was stern. He came
And choosing out an eminence surveyed
The army of Írán, bade call Hajír,
And said to him: “An arrow should be straight.

Suhráb said: “I shall ask

At large about the chiefs, the Sháh, the folk,
And all the great men of the land as Gív,
Tús, and Gúdarz. Whatever I shall ask
About Bahrám, famed Rustam, and the rest,
Make answer to me as I question thee.
Yon many-hued enclosure of brocade
Encircling tents of leopard-skin; before it
A hundred mighty elephants are tethered;
There is a turquoise throne blue as the Nile,
A flag charged with a yellow sun, the staff
Crowned with a golden moon, the case of purple.
Who is the man thus stationed in the centre?”

“On the right,”

Suhráb said, “there are many cavaliers
With elephants and baggagè. The enclosure
Is black, and round it troops are standing ranked
With tents past count; before it there are lions,
Behind it elephants, while in the front
There is a flag charged with an elephant,
And cavaliers in golden boots stand by.”
Hajír replied: “'Tis Tús son of Naudar:
His standard hath an elephant-device.”
Suhráb went on: “That red enclosure there,
Where many cavaliers are standing round,
The standard purple, the device a lion,
And in the centre there are sparkling jewels.
Behind it is a multitude of troops,
Who all bear lances and are clad in mail.
Who is he? Let me know the chieftain's name,
And bring not ruin on thyself by guile.”
He answered: “That belongeth to Gúdarz—
The glory of the Free—son of Kishwád,
A valiant general in war. He hath
Twice forty sons, all Elephants and Lions.
No elephant, no tiger of the plain,
No mountain-pard, would strive with him in fight.”
Suhráb went on: “As to yon green enclosure
In front whereof are stationed many troops,
While in the midst a splendid throne is set
With Káwa's flag before it. On the throne
A paladin is seated, one that hath
The Grace, the neck, and shoulders of a hero,
And seated thus is higher by a head
Than any of the people standing near.

Suhráb inquired

His name. Hajír replied: “I know it not,
For I was in this castle at the time.”
Suhráb was grieved to find no trace of Rustam,
And though his mother had described the bearings
He would not credit his own eyes. Again
He pressed Hajír to tell and soothe his heart,
But o'er his head was written otherwise—
A sentence never minished or enhanced.

“Gúdarz son of Kishwád hath evil luck
In that for all his puissance, wit, and prowess
He hath to call thee son. Where hast thou looked
On men of war or heard their chargers' tramp
That thou describest Rustam in such terms
And utterest his praise continually?
Thou fearest fire because the stream is calm,
But when it is in flood the fuming fire
Will soon be quenched, and when the sun shall draw
Its blazing sword night's head will go to sleep.”
Hajír unwitting thought: “If I declare
The lion-taker's bearings and inform
This Turkman with such hand and neck and seat,
He will arouse his warriors to fight
And urge along his elephantine steed.
He hath such strength and such a neck and shoulder
That Rustam will be slaughtered in his grasp.
Not one of all our warriors will come
To meet him face to face, and he will seize
The throne of Sháh Káús. An archmage said:—
‘It is a better thing with fame to go
From life than live and gratify the foe.’
If it be mine to perish by his hand
Day will not darken nor stream turn to blood.
Three score and sixteen sons—all lion-men—
Hath old Gúdarz beside myself, as Gív,
Who conquereth worlds and breaketh hosts, and is
In every place the leader of the folk,
Bahrám, Ruhhám the exalted, and Shídúsh
The lion-slaying warrior, and they all
Will show me kindness after I am dead,
And in revenge will slay our enemies;

Suhráb the chief of warriors, when he heard
These harsh words, turned his back upon Hajír,
And hid his face without reply, astounded
At that dark utterance; then from saddleback
He fiercely struck Hajír a blow back-handed,
Felled him, and went his way, mused much and long,
And made his preparations for the fight.
He girt him with the girdle of revenge,
Took from his princely head the golden crown,
Put on his mail and breastplate joyfully,
And set a Rúman helmet on his head.
That paladin, that binder of the Dív,
Took spear, bow, lasso, and his massive mace,
The blood was boiling in his veins with ardour.
He mounted on his rapid steed, sent up

Then Rustam, gazing

Upon that haughty one with such long stirrups,
And such a hand and shoulder, answered mildly:—
“Fair youth! the earth is hard and cold, the air
Is soft and warm. Old am I, but have seen
Full many a stricken field, and many a dív
Hath perished by my hand, yet saw I never
Myself o'ercome. Wait till we fight together;
If thou survivest fear no crocodile.
Both seas and mountains have beheld how I
Have striven with the famed chiefs of Túrán
In fight: the stars bear witness to my deeds.
My might hath laid the world beneath my feet,
And now my heart doth yearn in ruth for thee;
I would not take thy life. Thou wilt not leave
Behind a Turkman with such neck and shoulders.
I know no peer to thee e'en in Írán.”
When Rustam spake Suhráb's heart throbbed. He
answered:—
“One question will I put. Vouchsafe to tell me

Suhráb, still musing on his mother's words,
Went spear in hand. They chose a battle-ground
Where room was scant, and fought with javelins
Till points and whipping broke; next, wheeling left-ward,
Closed with their Indian scimitars and showered
Sparks from their blades, which shivered 'neath such
strokes
As might have heralded the Day of Doom;
Then took their massive maces and fought on
Until their weapons bent beneath the blows.
The chargers staggered and their bards dropped off;
The riders raged beneath their shivered mail;
Both were fordone and hand and arm both failed.
With bodies running sweat, with mouths dust-choked,
And tongues thirst-cracked, at length the champions
parted,
The sire in anguish and the son exhausted.
O world! thy doings are a mystery,
The broken and the whole both come from thee!
Love stirred in neither of these twain, no trace
Of wisdom was there, love showed not its face!
The fish in streams, wild asses on the plain,
And beasts of burden know their young again,
But toil and lust forbid a man to know
The difference between a child and foe!

The chargers being rested,

The youthful hero and the man in years
Strung up their bows, but still the coats of mail,
The breastplates, and the tiger-skin cuirass
Received no injury from the arrow-points,
And then each hero, raging at his foe,
Seized on the other by the leathern belt.
Now Rustam, had he clutched a rock in battle,
E'en the Black Stone itself,¹⁶³

had torn it out,
But when he seized the belt and would unhorse
Suhráb, the young man's waist felt not the tug,
And Rustam's hand was foiled. He quitted hold,
He marvelled at the prowess of his foe,
And then these lion-quellers, satiate
With battle, bruised, and wounded drew apart.
Suhráb again took from his saddle-bow
The massive mace, and gripping with his legs
Smote Rustam grievously upon the shoulder,
Who though he winced yet bravely bare the pain.
Suhráb laughed out and cried: “O cavalier!
Thou canst not bear the buffets of the brave.
Thy charger, one would say, is but an ass;
As for the rider both his hands are naught.

He hasted back

To camp with anxious heart. There mid the host
He saw Suhráb—a lion mad for prey—
The ground about him tulip-hued with blood,
His spearpoint, hands, and mail all drenched with gore.
Then Rustam raging like a furious lion
Exclaimed: “Bloodthirsty Turkman: who of all
This host opposed thee? Why hast thou not kept
Thy hands for me instead of coming thus
Like wolf among a flock?”

Suhráb replied:—

“The army of Túrán is holding back
From strife, and doing nothing to provoke it,

They parted and the air's face gloomed. Suhráb
Amazed the circling sphere. Thou wouldst have said:—
“Heaven fashioned him of war; he ceaseth not
A moment from the fray; his form is brazen,
His charger iron, and his spirit wondrous.”
Suhráb when night fell joined his troops. His loins
Were galled with battle but his breast was iron.
Thus spake he to Húmán: “This day the sun
Arose and filled the world with war and strife.
How fared ye with this gallant cavalier
Who hath a hero's heart and lion's claws?
What did he say and do? He proved my match!
How fared my troops with him? I hold him peerless,
Though old a Lion bent on war and strife.”

Then Rustam:—

“Thy Grace will speed thy liege's whole desire.”
He went depressed and vengeful to his camp.
To him Zawára came with downcast soul,
And said: “How fared the paladin to-day?”
But Rustam first would eat, then washed his heart
Of care and charged his brother, saying thus:—
“Be vigilant and cautious. When I go
At dawn to fight that Turkman warrior
Lead out mine army and bring forth my flag,

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

Suhráb replied:—

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

Thus he sought to 'scape

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

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

God granted him his prayer,

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

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

Then Rustam grew distraught,

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

When Rustam loosed

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

With dust upon his head

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

“Nay, this is worse and worse,”

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

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

Zawára came

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

Rustam seized

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

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

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

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

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

He answered:—

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

The Sháh marched homeward with the host, while
Rustam

Then Zál:—

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

He spoke through tears;

His theme was all Suhráb. When Rustam reached

Again he brought the bier,

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

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

Said eloquent Bahrám:—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He asked her:—

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

She replied:—

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

Now both the paladins

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

But Gív replied:—

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

Still Tús insisted:—

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

Both agreed

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

The Sháh then gave each general

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

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

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

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