These two exalted warriors bent on fight
Prepared themselves to wrestle, and agreed:—
“No one on either side shall intervene.”
The space between the hosts was half a league.
The stars surveyed that fight as Púládwand
And matchless Rustam—those grim Lions—closed,
Who felt each other, then each warrior
Seized his opponent by the leathern belt.
He drew a deep, cold sigh and thus bespake
His sire Afrásiyáb: “This mighty man,
Whom thou call'st Rustam, binder of the Dív,
Will by his strength and prowess lay the head
Of our brave warrior-dív upon the dust,
And thou wilt see our soldiers take to flight,
So strive not vainly with the turning sky.”
The sire replied: “My brain is fraught with care
On that account, go and observe the prowess
Of Púládwand in wrestling. Speak to him
In Turkman and advise him. He may get
The elephantine Rustam off his feet.
Tell Púládwand: ‘When thou hast got him down
Let thine appeal be to the scimitar.’”
But Shída said: “This is not what the king
Agreed to in the presence of the host.
If thou art rash and breakest covenant
Thy warfare will not issue in success.
Befoul not this clear stream, else he that loveth
Fault-finding will discover cause for blame.”
Afrásiyáb began to chide, becoming
In his fierce wrath distrustful of his son,
And said to him: “If Púládwand the dív
Shall be o'erthrown by this antagonist
None will remain alive upon the field;
Thou hast a valiant tongue, no prowess else.”
He plied his reins and came forth lion-like
Upon the ground, observed the strife and shouts
Like thunder, then he said to Púládwand:—
“If thou, exalted Lion! gett'st him down
In wrestling rip him open with thy dagger;
We need not boasting but accomplishment.”
Gív marked the king's wild words and eagerness,
Because the enemy had broken troth,
And said to Rustam: “O thou warrior!
What orders givest thou thy servants? Speak!
Observe Afrásiyáb, his eagerness,
And wild words! He hath come forth to inflame
The heart of thine antagonist and prompt him
To use his dagger in a wrestling-bout!”
But Rustam said: “A man of war am I,
And, when engaged in wrestling, bide my time.
What do ye fear? Why are your hearts thus
rent?
E'en now will I bring down from heaven above
The head and neck of Púládwand to dust;
But if I have not strength of hand therefor
What need thus wantonly to break my heart?
Although this witless warlock doth transgress
The covenant of God, why should ye fear
The breach? He poureth dust on his own head.”
Then, like a lion, reaching out he clutched
The chest and neck of that fierce Crocodile,
And, straining hard, uprooted Púládwand,
As though he were a plane-tree, from his place,
Raised him aloft, dashed him upon the ground,
And uttered praises to Almighty God.
A shout rose from the army of Írán;
The drummers marched out with the kettle-
drums;
The blast of clarion, the clang of gong
And Indian bell ascended to the clouds.
Now Rustam thus imagined: “Púládwand
Hath not a sound joint in his body left,
His bones are broken and his cheeks become
The colour of the bloom of fenugreek,”
And left the Dragon's body as it lay;
But, when the lion-clutching hero reached
His army, Púládwand glanced arrow-like,
And fled with all speed to Afrásiyáb
With full heart and with tears upon his face.
When Rustam saw that Púládwand still lived,
And troops were everywhere upon the plain,
His heart grew straitened, he led on the host,
Called unto him the veteran Gúdarz,
And ordered: “Let them send a shower of arrows,
And make the air as 'twere a cloud in spring.”
Bízhan was on one wing, Gív on the other
With veteran Ruhhám and brave Gurgín.
Thou wouldst have said: “They have enkindled fire,
And with their falchions set the world ablaze!”
Then Púládwand said to his troops: “With throne,
Renown, and treasure lost, why throw away
Our lives or think at all of further strife?”
And, with his very life-cord snapped in twain
By Rustam, marched his army from the plain.
Pírán spake thus unto Afrásiyáb:—
“The surface of the world is like a sea!
Did not I say: ‘We cannot tarry here
Secure from Rustam of the deadly hand?’
By murdering the youth beloved by him
Thou hast transfixed our hearts with arrow-points.
And Púládwand the dív hath marched away.
The horsemen of Írán on barded chargers
Exceed in sooth a hundred thousand men;
The lion-catching Rustam is their leader,
And air is full of arrows, earth of blood.
From sea and plain, from mountain and from waste,
Our warriors assembled; when men failed
We tried the dívs. Great were the strife and shouts,
But now, since Rustam came, no place is left
For thee; the only prudent course is flight.
Since thou art here the treasure of the earth
Thou shouldst withdraw to further Chín. Leave here
Thy troops thus ranged for battle and betake thee,
Thou and thy kindred, seaward.”
The king saw
That fight was hopeless, took the advice, and fled.
They left his flag but he himself departed,
And went in haste toward Máchín and Chín.
The armies came together face to face,
The earth grew like a darksome cloud, anon
The peerless Rustam shouted to his host:—
“Take not your bows and arrows or your spears,
But battle with the mace and scimitar,
And show a prowess worthy of your standing.
Is it the time for pards to shun the fray
When they perceive the quarry in the lair?”
The soldiers left their spears upon the mount,
And, shouting, made the dales and plains of fight
Impassable with corpses. Half the living
Asked quarter, and the others fled pell-mell;
There was no shepherd and the flock was scattered;
The plain was filled with handless, neckless trunks.
Then Rustam spake and said: “Enough are slain.
These changes are the lot of all, at whiles
Producing bane, at whiles the antidote.
Put off your arms and do more good henceforth.
Which now is joyful and then sorrowful,
Which now assaileth us like Áhriman,
And then is like a bride all scent and colour?
Choose calm, untroubled lives, for who can say
That cursing is a better thing than blessing?”
He chose gold, silver, raiment yet unworn,
Youths, horses, swords, and casques to send the Sháh,
Took for himself crowns, musk, and ambergris,
And lavished on the troops the residue.
He fain had found the monarch of Túrán,
Path and no path they sought him everywhere.
Folk gave no trace of him by land or sea;
No tidings reached them of Afrásiyáb.
The Íránians set themselves to desolate
His banquet-houses and his palaces,
And Rustam fired his settlements beside;
That conflagration blazed up far and wide.
Before they left Túrán they loaded up
Crowns, thrones, and precious armour; they had captured
So many camels and such herds of horses
That none could murmur at the lack of beasts.
There rose a shouting and a blare of trumpets,
They brought the camel-bells and brazen gongs,
And entered on their march toward Írán,
A host thus decked with colour and perfume.
A shout came from the city and the court,
And cloudward from Írán rose tymbal-din
Proclaiming that the lord of mace and mail
Had come. One common joy was in the world
Among all classes and degrees of men.
The Sháh's heart grew like Paradise above,
He offered praises to Almighty God,
Bade bring the elephants, and journeyed forth.
The world was decked according to the custom,
Wine, harp, and minstrelsy were in request,
The necks of all the elephants that went
Were drenched with saffron, musk, and wine. The
drivers
Wore coronets upon their heads, and earrings
Depended from their ears. Men poured down saffron
And drachms, and sifted ambergris on musk.
When matchless Rustam saw the exalted crown,
While all around was echoing applause,
He lighted from his steed and did obeisance.
Khusrau inquired about the tedious march,
Embracing Rustam long and heartily,
And, calling many a blessing down on him,
Bade him remount and, as they fared together
Hand within hand, said thus: “Why hast thou stayed
So long and burnt us through our love of thee?”
“Apart from thee,” thus Rustam made reply,
“Our hearts have not enjoyed a moment's pleasure.”
The far-famed court; there on the golden throne
Sat Kai Khusrau with noble Rustam, Tús,
Gív, Faríburz, Gúdarz, Farhád, Gurgín,
And brave Ruhhám. The Sháh spake of the war,
The field, and fighting of the Turkman host.
Gúdarz replied: “O sire! the tale is long!
Our first needs are the flagon, wine, and rest,
And afterward thou mayest question us.”
They spread the tables and the Sháh said smiling:—
“Good sooth! thou hast been famished by the march.”268
He set wine on the board, called minstrelsy,
And then inquired of all that had occurred,
About Afrásiyáb and Púládwand,
The twisted lasso and the wrestling-bout,
About the Khán, Kámús, and Ashkabús,
And that vast army with its elephants
And drums. Gúdarz addressed him thus: “O Sháh!
No mother will bring forth a cavalier
Like Rustam. Though a dív or lion cometh
Or dragon, none escapeth his long clutch.
A thousand blessings be upon the king,
Above all on this famous paladin.”
The words so pleased Khusrau that thou hadst
said:—
“He raised his head to Saturn.” He rejoined:—
“World-conquering paladin, alert and shrewd!
The man with wisdom for his monitor
Is circumspect in time's vicissitudes.
Be evil's eye far from this paladin,
And may his life be one long festival.”
The throne, and company rejoiced in Rustam,
While some to melody of pipe and strings
Sang in heroic strains his combatings.
The peerless Rustam tarried with the Sháh
One month in revelry. At length he said:—
“O full of virtues, wearer of the crown!
The monarch of the world is wise and good,
But yet I long to see the face of Zál.”
The great Sháh then unlocked his treasury-door,
And of the precious things there stored away
Such gifts as jewels, crowns, and finger-rings,
Brocade and raiment from Barbar, and slaves,
With earrings and with crowns, a hundred steeds
And camels, saddled or for porterage,
With golden trays of aloes and of musk,
Two golden slippers, and a mace to match
Inlaid with jewels that a king might wear,
Gifts that became a man of such renown,
The Sháh sent matchless Rustam, and went out
Two stages with him on the journey home;
And Rustam when the king was wearying
Of that long road gat down and homaged him,
Bade him farewell, then left Írán behind,
And hastened onward to Zábulistán.
The world became obedient to the Sháh,
And settled in accordance to his will.
This tale too have I ended and 'tis long—
This battle with Kámús—and from my song
No jot hath fallen. Had but one word been
Left out it would have caused my soul chagrin.
I joyed o'er Púládwand who added not
His steel chains to the chains that we have got.270
Now hear the battle with Akwán and know
How famous Rustam fared against that foe.
The poet half apologises for introducing this story into the Sháhnáma, but pleads that we live in a world of wonders. The tale runs thus: Complaints are brought to Kai Khusrau of the ravages made among the herds by a certain onager which the Sháh perceives to be the dív Akwán. Accordingly he sends Rustam to the rescue, who is, however, taken at a disadvantage by the dív, and only saves his life by his ready wit. He then falls in with Afrásiyáb and his meiny, and defeats them singlehanded. Afterward he again encounters Akwán, slays him, and returns home in triumph.
This story is a variation on the theme “the devil is an ass.” Firdausí probably introduced it into the Sháhnáma to explain the references in Part V. Afrásiyáb uses, “the boulder of the dív Akwán,” to cover the entrance of the pit in which Bízhan is imprisoned. Rustam, when he comes to deliver Bízhan, is represented as lifting the stone single-handed and flinging it far away.271
In Zoroastrian theology Urmuzd was supposed to be surrounded by impersonations of his own divine qualities, who were known as the Ameshaspentas, “the immortal well-doers.” They were six in number, and among them was one named Vohu Manau, i.e. Good Thought. Corresponding to these on Áhriman's side were six impersonations of his evil qualities, one of which was Akem Manau, i.e. Bad Thought. These good and evil impersonations were opposed to one another in pairs. Vohu Manau, for instance, was antagonised by Akem Manau. It has been suggested by Professor Nöldeke that Akwán is a mistake of Firdausí or of his authorities for Akúmán, and that the dív Akwán is really none other than Akem Manau in disguise.272
Similarly Aaishma daéva (dív), the demon of wrath, appears to be the Asmodeus of the Book of Tobit.
To God the Lord of soul and wisdom raised,
Yet let this question thy bright mind engage:—
Can any praise Him as He should be praised?
All knowledge that we have is feebleness;
For such poor weaklings who can tears repress?
Philosopher! in vain thou biddest me
In many words to make thy path mine own,
The best word witnesseth God's unity,
Albeit, said or not said, God is One.
What things soever pass before thine eyes
Accord to this conviction of thy mind,
Walk then the beaten track if thou art wise
Or else discussion will no limit find.
Born, soul and body, in a single breath
Of mighty moment is thyself to thee,
Yet here thou hast but brief reprieve from death,
And in another home thy rest will be.
Think first of the Creator then and base
Thy worship on the thought well understood
That He who keepeth turning heaven in place
Is He that is thy Guide to every good.
The world is full of wonders to thy view,
And none hath means to judge them here below:
Thy soul is wonderful, thy body too,
So let thy first task be thyself to know,
And next the sky which turneth over thee
In all its daily mutability.
The rustic minstrel's tale of days of old
Thou mayest not be willing to receive,
For men of wisdom who shall hear it told,
And weigh it learnedly, will disbelieve;
Yet, if thou wilt the inner meaning sean,
Thou wilt accept it and from carping cease,
Though it may be his words will fail to please.
Thus saith the storying minstrel: Kai Khusrau
One morn adorned his Rose-bed like the spring.
Such chieftains as Gúdarz, Tús, Gustaham,
Barzín son of Garshásp, sprung from Jamshíd,
With Gív and with Ruhhám the veteran,
Gurgín and sage Kharrád sat with the Sháh,
And drained the goblet to the king of kings
Right merrily. One hour of day had passed
When there arrived a herdsman from the plain,
Who came before Khusrau, first kissed the ground,
And then addressed that Sháh of glorious race:—
“An onager hath come amongst the herds,
And seemeth like a dív escaped from bond!
Thou wouldest say: ‘It is a savage lion!’
He breaketh our steeds' necks; he is in colour
As 'twere the sun itself; thou wouldest say:—
‘The sky hath washed him in a bath of gold.’
Drawn from his neck and reaching to his tail
There is a line as black as musk. If thou
Wouldst judge by his round haunches and his feet
Thou wouldest say: ‘He is a noble steed.’”
Khusrau, aware that 'twas no onager,
For onagers surpass not steeds in strength,
And having heard that people near the stream,
Where this man used to turn the herds to graze,
Made much complaint about Akwán the dív,
Said to the hind: “This is no onager,
And I have knowledge of it. Go thy way.”
He then addressed the chiefs: “Ye paladins,
Among yourselves to go on this emprise.”
He scanned the warriors but found none to please
him,
For only Rustam son of Zál could help
In such a cause, and so Khusrau prepared
A letter couched in just and loving terms,
And gave it to Gurgín son of Mílád,
To whom he said: “Bear to the son of Zál
My letter, go like smoke both night and day,
And slumber not within Zábulistán.
Greet Rustam much and lovingly from me,
Say to him: ‘Live while heaven itself shall last,’
And add when he hath read the letter through:—
‘My Grace is all from thee, aspiring chief!
Show us thy face, arise, and come. When thou
Hast read the letter stay not in Zábul.’”
Gurgín departed like a rushing wind,
Or onager in terror for its life,
And gave the letter when he reached the chieftain,
Who heard, obeyed, and went to court in state,
There kissed the ground before the throne and blessed
The imperial fortunes, saying thus: “O Sháh!
Thou calledst me, and here am I girt up
To do thy will. Be might and goodness thine.”
Khusrau, on seeing Rustam, welcomed him,
Gave him a seat upon the royal throne,
And afterward spake thus: “O paladin!
Mayst thou live ever glad and bright of soul.
This day is blessèd since I look on thee:
My fortunes all depend on thy shrewd mind.
For which I summoned thee of all the mighty,
So that, if thou distaste not my command,
Thou mayest gird thee to win crown and treasure.
A hind hath said: ‘An onager hath come
Among the herds.’”
The Sháh told o'er the tale,
And added: “Now, O matchless one, make ready
And undertake this further enterprise.
Go, and in dealing with it have a care,
For it may be malicious Áhriman.”
“Through thy good fortune,” Rustam made reply,
“Now whether it be lion, dív, or dragon,
The servant of thy throne is not afraid;
It shall not 'scape my scimitar's sharp blade.”
He went forth like a lion to the chase,
A lasso on his arm and under him
A Dragon, went to where that hind was tending
His cattle and that dív was roaming loose.275
Three days he searched the champaign mid the steeds,
And on the fourth perceived a Thing careering,
And rushing by him like the north wind's blast.
It was a glossy beast of golden hue,
But with fell mischief 'neath its hide. Then Rustam
Spurred fleet-foot Rakhsh but thought as he drew
near:—
“I need not cast but noose it with my lasso;
There is no call to spoil it with the sword;
I will convey it living to the Sháh.”
So Rustam flung his royal lasso forth,
Intent to take the creature by the head.
The lusty onager perceived the noose,
“This is no onager; I must proceed
By craft not force. It is Akwán himself,
And I must smite him with a whiff of steel.
The sages told me that this is his haunt,
But his appearance as an onager
Is strange! The scimitar must now avail
To make blood overflow that yellow gold.”
Just then the onager appeared again;
Again the chieftain urged his swift career,
Strung up his bow and from his wind-like steed
Let fly an arrow like Ázargashasp,
But even as he drew his royal bow
The onager was gone the second time.
Then Rustam rode about the open plain
A day and night in want of sustenance,
And nodding in the saddle, till he found
A fountain like rose-water. Lighting there
He watered Rakhsh and sank to sleep fordone,
But first ungirthed his steed, took off the saddle
To use its poplar pummel as his pillow,
And spread beside the spring his saddle-cloth
For sleep while Rakhsh to pasturage sped forth.
When from afar Akwán saw Rustam sleeping
He came as swift as wind, delved round about
The place where Rustam lay, and raised it skyward.
When Rustam woke from sleep he woke to sorrow,
And his wise head was filled with consternation.
A snare like this! Woe for my strength and courage,
My neck, and blows with mace and scimitar!
This matter will make desolate the world,
Achieving all Afrásiyáb's desire,
While Tús, Gúdarz, Khusrau, the throne and crown,
The elephants and drums, will be no more.
Through me the world will suffer, since Akwán
Hath spoiled my marketing. Who will take vengeance
On this curst dív? No one will match him now.”
Then said Akwán to Rustam in his plight:—
“Now, elephantine chieftain! take thy choice
To fall upon the mountains or the waves;
So whither shall I fling thee far from men?”
The elephantine hero communed thus:—
“In every case naught bettereth artifice.
He will do contrary to what I say;
He will not recognise an oath or keep
A pact. If I say, ‘Throw me in the sea,’
Then will this evil-natured Áhriman
Fling me upon the mountains, dash me there
To pieces, and destroy me. I must use
Some scheme to make him fling me into water,”
Then said: “A sage of Chín hath spoken well:—
Surúsh in Paradise, his lot will be
To tarry in his place in misery,
And not to find a welcome to the sky.’
Let me not therefore fall upon the ocean
To make the fishes' maws my winding-sheet,
But drop me on the mountains that the lions
And tigers may behold a brave man's hands.’
Akwán at this roared like the sea, and answered:—
“Now will I fling thee to the place wherein
Thou wilt be lost for ever to both worlds.”
And, acting contrary to Rustam's words.
Dropped him upon the sea. As Rustam fell
He drew his sword, and when the crocodiles
Approached they turned aside from fighting him.
He struck out with his feet and his left hand
While with his right he fought his way along,
Not resting for a moment from his toils,
But acting as a warrior in all.
If valour could avert the fatal day
Time had not taken Rustam's stance away,
But know that circling time is ever thus—
At whiles all sweet, at whiles all venomous.
He struggled bravely, reached the shore, beheld
The desert, and gave praises to the Maker,
Who had delivered thus His slave from ill.
He rested, took his armour off, and laid
His tiger-skin cuirass beside the stream.
Whenas his lasso and his armour dried
That savage Lion donned his coat of mail,
And went back to the stream where he had slept
When that malignant dív had raged at him;
And Rustam, wroth and raging at his luck,
Went plodding doggedly with reins and saddle
In Rakhsh's track till in his quest he came
Upon a meadow-land of streams and shaws
Well stocked with francolins and cooing doves.
The herdsman of Afrásiyáb who kept
The steeds lay fast asleep within a coppice,
While Rakhsh was prancing madly like a dív
Among the herd and neighing. Rustam cast
His royal lasso, caught Rakhsh by the head,
Then rubbed the dust away and saddled him,
With thanks to God, the Giver of all good,
Put on the bridle, mounted, took in hand
His trenchant scimitar, and drove the herd
Therewith, still calling on the name of God.
The herdsman, at the tumult, raised his head,
Still half asleep, and called the horsemen with him
To mount upon their lofty-crested steeds.
They took each man his lasso and his bow
To learn what foe dared come upon the pasture,
And to approach so many cavaliers.
These went together hotly in pursuit
To strip the warlike Lion of his hide,
But Rustam, when he saw them rushing on,
Drew quickly from his waist his vengeful sword,
Roared like a lion, and proclaimed: “My name
Is Rustam son of Zál the son of Sám.”
He slew the more part with his scimitar,
Which when the herdsman saw he showed his back,
And fled away with Rustam following,
His bow upon his arm slung by its string.
Had sped forth like a blast to view his steeds,
And brought with him wine, harps, and warriors
To merrymake upon the watered plain
Where every year the herdsman loosed the herds.
The monarch on arriving saw them not.
Then suddenly rose clamour, horse on horse
Passed, and Afrásiyáb saw far away
The dust of Rakhsh, and other noble chargers.
The ancient herdsman rushed up franticly
In evil plight and wounded by an arrow,
Then in amazement told Afrásiyáb:—
“Though single-handed, Rustam hath borne off
Our horse-herds, killed no few of us, and gone!”
The Turkmans clamoured: “He is all alone,
And we must arm, for this is past a jest.
Have we become so wretched, weak, and frail
That one can shed our blood? The very herds
Will shame thereat! We cannot let it pass.”
The monarch with four elephants and troops
Went in pursuit of Rustam who, when they
Had overtaken him, took from his arm
His bow and charged against them furiously.
He rained upon them, as the clouds rain hail,
Shafts from his bow and strokes from his steel sword.
He dropped his arrows and his scimitar,
When sixty gallant chiefs had been o'erthrown,
Afrásiyáb in dudgeon showed his back
While Rustam took the four white elephants.
The warriors of Túrán were in despair,
For Rustam came behind them with his mace,
And, like a cloud in spring, for two leagues onward
Rained blows like hail and beat in helms and casques.
He turned back, driving off the elephants
And herds, and took the baggage-train withal,
Yet when he went back to the spring at leisure
His valiant heart was ready still for fight!
The dív Akwán again encountered him,
And said: “Art thou not surfeited with strife?
Thou hast escaped the ocean and the claws
Of crocodiles, and come back to the waste
To battle. Now shalt thou behold thy fate,
For never shalt thou seek to fight henceforth.”
The peerless Rustam, hearing what the dív
Said, roared out like a lion of the fray,
Released his twisted lasso from its straps,
Flung it, and caught the dív about the waist;
Then Rustam, turning in his saddle, raised
His mace as 'twere the hammer of a smith,
And smote the dív like some mad elephant
Upon his head and smashed it, brains and neck;
The hero lighted, drew his blue steel sword
And cut the dív's head off, then offered up
Thanksgivings to Almighty God through Whom
He had achieved the victory that day.
Know thou that every one that is the thrall
Of ill, and offereth not to God his praise,
And whosoever doth transgress the ways
Of manhood, is a dív, not man at all.
The wisdom that rejecteth what I tell
May miss the goodly inner sense as well:
If then a paladin be full of might—
A man of lusty limbs and lofty height—
Let him, and not Akwán, thy hero be,
And let thy tongue tell tales of chivalry.
Experienced much in this world's heat and cold?
Who knoweth what vicissitudes will here
Betide us often in time's long career,
Time which by virtue of its length alone
Will bear away all that we call our own?
Who knoweth what yon turning vault's decree
Assigneth him of war or revelry?
When Rustam had cut off the vile dív's head
He mounted on his elephantine steed,
Collected all the herds in front of him,
With all the baggage that the Turkmans left,
And went off with the elephants and goods,
Illustrating the world. When to the Sháh
Came tidings: “Rustam hath returned in triumph!
He girt himself to noose that onager,
But he hath taken dív and elephant,
The elephant by land, the crocodile
By sea: the lions, dívs, and warriors
That counter him escape not from his sword!”
Khusrau prepared to go and welcome Rustam;
The warriors put their casques upon their heads,
And took the standard of the king of kings
With clarions, bells, and mighty elephants.
When Rustam saw the exalted monarch's flag
Advancing on the way to welcome him
He lighted from his steed and kissed the ground
Midst shouting troops and din of trump and drum.
To him; the king of kings urged on his steed.
That chief of chiefs, the crown-bestowing prince,
Bade Rustam mount, and thus they reached the palace
With open hearts and mutual good-will.
Then Rustam portioned to the Íránians
The horse-herds, keeping Rakhsh as his own mount,
And sent the elephants to join the Sháh's,
Since Lions do not fare with elephants.
For one week there was feasting in the hall,
Wine, harp, and minstrelsy were in request,
While Rustam o'er the wine discoursed at large,
And told the Sháh the story of Akwán:—
“I never saw so fine an onager,
Such neck and limbs, and such magnificence!
But when my scimitar had cleft his hide
No friend or foe had pitied him. His head
Was like an elephant's, his hair was long,
His mouth was full of tusks like some wild boar's,
His eyes were white, his lips were black, his form
Was ill to see. No camel is so large
And strong. The waste became a sea with blood,
Which spurted, when I had beheaded him,
Up to the welkin and came down like rain!”
Then Kai Khusrau amazed put by his cup,
And gave God thanks for such a paladin,
Since none had seen such wonders—that a man
Such as was Rustam should exist at all
In all his manliness and mien and stature.
He said: “Unless the Lord had given me
A share both in His justice and His love
With whom to hunt down dívs and elephants.”
Thus spent they two weeks joyfully; their talk
Was all of wine and banquet. On the third
The matchless Rustam purposed to go home
Victorious and glad. “I yearn for Zál,
The son of Sám,” he said, “and such desire
May not be blinked, but I will go apace,
And come back to the court. We must prepare
Fresh vengeance, for revenge for Siyáwush
Is not thus easily to be forgone
By taking steeds and herds.”
The world's great king
Unlocked the portal of his treasury,
Brought forth the precious jewels hoarded there,
And filled a cup with treasure. Of king's raiment
Five changes made throughout of cloth of gold,
With golden-girdled slave-boys brought from Rúm,
And likewise handmaids decked with golden torques,
With tapestries and thrones of ivory,
Embroideries, dínárs, and turquoise crowns,
All these the Sháh sent Rustam, saying: “Take
This gift with thee, but stay with us to-day,
And afterward make ready to depart.”
They spent the day together quaffing wine,
But Rustam was resolved to go at dawn.
The Sháh went two days with him and embraced him
At parting. Rustam cottoned to the road,
Khusrau returned. Well ordered 'neath his signet
The world became as he would have it be.
The ancient sky revolveth ever so,
At whiles like arrow and at whiles like bow.
The matter of Akwán with what befell
'Twixt him and Rustam endeth. Now I tell
Of strivings that will ask of thee a tear.
The poet describes how the tale was first told to him to while away the depression caused by a sleepless night, and then narrates as follows: Kai Khusrau at a feast receives a petition for succour from the people of Irmán, whose country is being ravaged by wild boars, and sends Bízhan and Gurgín to clear the country of them. Bízhan, through the machinations of Gurgín, who envies him, falls in love with Afrásiyáb's daughter Manízha, who carries off Bízhan to Túrán and hides him in her palace. He is discovered and imprisoned in a pit with Manízha as his attendant. In the meantime Gurgín has returned to Irán, where his lame story rouses suspicion. Kai Khusrau, by means of the divining-cup, ascertains the situation of Bízhan and despatches Rustam to deliver him. This Rustam achieves, Gurgín is pardoned by Bízhan, Afrásiyáb is defeated, and all ends happily.
For the historical basis of this story, see p. 11.
The tale of Bízhan and Manízha is the second of the great love-stories of the Sháhnáma, that of Zál and Rúdába in Vol. I. being the first,285
and that of Gushtásp in Rúm, which will be given in Vol. IV., being the third. Mohl probably is right in considering the present story to be one of Firdausí's early works. “Le caractère de fraîcheur qui se remarque dans ce récit s'accorde bien avec la supposition que cet épisode est une œuvre de la jeunesse de Firdousi; et la versification porte quelques traces de manque d'experience, telles que l'emploi fréquent de l'élif final ajouté à cause de la rime ou du mètre. Cet expédient est recu dans la poésie persane; mais Firdousi n'en fait nulle part autant d'usage qu'au commencement de l'histoire de Bijen et de Menijeh.”285a
The point as to the terminal alif perhaps may be exemplified sufficiently for the English reader by the following stanza:—
“Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.”285b
As in the English so in the Persian an “a” is added arbitrarily to help out the metre, but the analogy is not exact.
In addition to Mohl's reasons given above we may adduce the bold Zoroastrian allusions—the outcome perhaps of a youthful enthusiasm.285c
The loss of Bízhan too is regarded as the first serious trouble of the Gúdarzian family,285d
though it would not be prudent to lay much stress upon that in the absence of other indications.
§ 1. In Mohl's opinion the friend referred to both here and in the Prelude to the Sháhnáma (§ 10) was Muhammad Lashkarí.285e
Firdausí, however, has left the sex indeterminate.
Hárút was an angel who, with his mate Márút, was suspended by the feet in a well at Babylon for practising magic arts.
§ 2. Such an appeal would be characteristic of the Armenians (Irmánians) who, broken by adversity, ceased long ago to be a self-reliant people.
§§ 10 and 23. For the dív Akwán see Part IV.
§ 12. According to Zoroastrian belief divine beings, men, the lower animals, plants, waters, sun and moon, &c., all had their immortal principle, known as their fravashí. These fravashís were worshipped especially at the beginning of the Zoroastrian year, and the month Farwardín obtained its name from the practice. At this season the spirits of deceased ancestors were supposed to revisit the houses of their descendants, and such fravashís, like the manes of the Romans, were objects of peculiar veneration.
§ 17. The divine beings whose blessings are invoked by Rustam on Kai Khusrau are members of a class formerly known as Yazatas (gods) and now as Izads. Some of them, among other functions, presided over the Zoroastrian Calendar, and gave their names to the days of the month and to the months of the year.285f
They may be regarded as celestial satraps among whom the divine qualities and the good creation of Urmuzd have been parcelled out. Bahman presides over Good Thought, Ardí-bihisht over Perfect Rectitude, Shahrír over Perfect Rule, Sapandármad over Bountiful Devotion, Murdád over Immortality, and Khurdád over Health. The above are all Ameshapentas.287
Bahrám presides over Victory, Tír over Mercury, Dai over Business, Ázar over Fire, Ábán over Waters, while Farwardín represents the Fravashís.287a
No planet lustre to the firmament,
The moon, appearing in her new array
In readiness to take her throneward way,
Much brightness lost by sojourning below;
Her waist was shrunk, her heart was full of woe,
Her crown was well-nigh lapis-lazuli;
Through rust and dust she journeyed through the sky.
Night's retinue had spread out everywhere
A carpet black as raven's plumes, the air
Was like rust-eaten steel; thou wouldst have cried:—
“Its face is smirched with pitch!” On every side,
Like some black serpent with its jaws stretched wide,
Was very Áhriman, each sigh of whom
Was like a negro making charcoal fume.
The garden and the stream's lip seemed to be
Like billows surging on a pitchy sea
O'er which the circling heaven paused wonderingly.
The sun had lost its power; thou wouldst have said:—
“Earth sleepeth with a pitch-like robe o'erspread.”
The world's heart trembled at itself; no sounds
Were heard but watchmen ringing on their rounds;
The birds refrained from song, the beasts were still,
The world's lips closed alike for good or ill,
Of that long vigil strait at heart I rose.
I had one in the house, a loving wight,
To whom I called and bade to bring a light.
Descending to the garden presently
My darling Idol came and said to me:—
“What need for light? Will sleep not visit thee?”
I said: “Mine Idol! I am not at one
With slumber. Bring a candle like the sun,
Set it in front of me, then spread the board,
Take up the harp, and let the wine be poured.”
My darling Idol fetched me lamps a-shine,
Fetched quinces, oranges, pomegranates, wine,
And one bright goblet fit for king of kings,
Then plied at whiles the wine, at whiles the strings.
“Hárút performed enchantment,” thou hadst said,
My heart grew victor over drearihead,
And it seemed day with me in dark night's stead.
Hear what my loving comrade said to me
What time the goblet had joined company.
Thus said to me that sun-faced Moon of mine:—
“May heaven have joyance of that life of thine.
Quaff thou thy wine while from this volume's store
I will read out to thee a tale of yore.
Or ever part thereof shall reach thine ear
Thou wilt admire the process of the Sphere.
The theme is love, spell, war, and stratagem,
All worthy that a sage should list to them.”
“O Moon-face!” said I to that Cypress-stem,
“Recite, recite,” who answered: “That will I,
And thou shalt weave it into poetry.”
I said: “Begin, my fair-faced Moon! to read,
And make me love thee more. I may be freed
From my distemperature, and sleep betide
Then will I turn the story, every whit,
To verse exactly as thou tellest it,
And, telling, offer praise to God above,
O my discreet companion and my love!”
That darling Idol read the tale to me
Out of the book of ancient legendry,
So now give ear the while that I rehearse,
And exercise thy judgment on my verse.
When Kai Khusrau went forth to take revenge,
And sought to change the order of the world,
The throne and state departed from Túrán,
But his throne topped the sun because he leagued
Heaven and Írán together, and lavished love
Upon the noble race, the age renewed
Its youth and bathed his face in loyalty;
And though the prudent maketh not his couch
A torrent-bed though dry, yet for a while
The more part of the world acknowledged him
That sought to be avenged for Siyáwush.
One day he sat carousing in his joy,
And drinking to the warriors of the host.
His throne was ornate with brocade, a crown
Of gems was on his head, and in his hand
A jewelled cup of wine. Thus, all enraptured,
He listened to the harp. The nobles present
Were Faríburz the son of Kai Káús,
Gurgín son of Mílád, Farhád, and Gív,
Shápúr the brave, Tús, shatterer of hosts—
Head of the scions of Naudar—Kharrád,
And bold Bízhan. These loyal paladins
Had royal wine in hand. Inside the goblets
The wine was like carnelian of Yaman,
And in the midst were handfuls of dog-roses.
Before Khusrau stood slaves with fairy-faces,
Whose musk-black ringlets fell on skins of jasmine.
The banquet-hall was decked, and in the presence
Girt for attendance stood the chamberlain.
Approaching him discreetly from the curtain
An usher said: “Irmánians wait without—
Chiefs of the march between this and Túrán:
They fain would have an audience of the Sháh,
For they have travelled far to seek redress.”
The prudent chamberlain approached the throne,
Announced his tidings, sought the royal pleasure,
And introduced the envoys in due form.
They came before the presence of the Sháh
With tears and cries for aid; their arms were folded,
Their faces swept the ground; as they drew nigh
They said: “O Sháh triumphant! live for ever,
For thou art worthy of unending life.
We come for succour from a distant land,
Khán-i-Irmán, between this and Túrán,
And bring this message: ‘Ever live, O Sháh!
In every clime the succourer from the evil,
O'er all seven climes the king, and in each state
The help against the bad. Túrán and we
Confine, which is a source of bale to us,
While toward Írán there was a forest-tract—
Our present cause of trouble. What a wealth
And fruit trees, our chief means of sustenance!
Now do us right, O monarch of Írán!
Because wild boars in numbers numberless,
With tusks like elephants', and big as hills,
Have seized on all those woods and meads, and put
The country of Irmán in consternation.
What mighty ruin have they brought on us
Both in our cattle and our growing crops!
The boars delight in rending with their tusks
The cultivated trees whereof we speak.
Hard stones will not withstand such tusks, and fortune
May be hath utterly abandoned us!”
Now when the Sháh had heard the suppliants'
words
He was much grieved and, pitying them, addressed
The exalted warriors: “Who among my chiefs
And mighty men is eager for renown?
Let such depart to yon boar-wasted forest,
And, all intent on fame and combating,
Behead them with his sword. I will not grudge him
My gems and other treasures.”
At his bidding
The treasurer laid upon the daïs a salver
Of gold whereon they showered mingled gems;
They brought ten steeds, whose brand-mark was “Káús,”
With golden bridles, trapped them with brocade
Of Rúm, and called the nobles from the throng.
“O men of name and worship!” said earth's king,
“What man will make my toil his own and then
My treasure his?”
None answered him a word
Except the son of Gív of glorious race—
Bízhan—who stood forth midst the warriors,
And called God's blessing down upon the Sháh:—
And be thy bidding done throughout the world.
I will adventure on this enterprise
At they command: I only live for thee.”
Gív, who was standing by, marked with displeasure
His son's words, called down blessings on the Sháh,
Then took Bízhan to task: “What boyishness
Is this, and this conceit of thine own might?
A youth may have both wit and native worth,
But he must train to win accomplishment;
He must exhaust all kinds of good and ill,
Must taste of every salt and bitter. Go not
By paths that thou hast never trodden or brag
Before the Sháh so recklessly.”
Bízhan,
Shrewd, though impulsive, and of sleepless fortune,
Replied in anger: “My victorious sire!
Impute not weakness to me in thy thoughts,
But bear with what I tell thee: I am young
In enterprise but I am old in counsel,
And I, Bízhan, who am the son of Gív,
The army-shatterer, will behead the boars.”
The Sháh rejoiced thereat, invoked God's blessing,
Bade him depart, and said: “Thou man of worship!
Thou art a buckler ever 'gainst all ill.
The lord that hath such lieges as thou art
Would be a fool to fear a foe.”
He then
Said to Gurgín son of Mílád: “Bízhan
Is ignorant of the road toward Irmán,
So bear him company with mule and steed
To show the way and be his help in need.”
Bízhan made ready for his setting forth,
Girt him, and set a casque upon his head.
To help in battle and in time of need,
And left the court with cheetahs and with hawks
To hunt withal upon his longsome journey.
Like foaming lion he fared and took the heads
From onager and antelope; the plain
Was thick with wild sheep torn; their hearts and
breasts
Felt the warm impress of the cheetah's claws.
His lasso ringed the necks of onagers,
He seemed like Tahmúras who bound the Dív,
While overhead the pheasants clutched by falcons
Dyed jasmine-leaves with blood. Thus sped the twain,
And thought the road a garden, till they reached
The forest that had caused the Sháh's concern.
Now when Bízhan cast eyes thereon the blood
Boiled in him with excitement, while the boars
Roamed freely, knowing not: “Bízhan hath mounted.”
On drawing near the forest to attack
He spake thus to Gurgín son of Mílád:—
“Go thou inside or stand aside, and when
I go to shoot the boars seek yonder pool.
Take up thy mace, be ware, and with one blow
Behead each boar escaping.”
But Gurgín,
The warrior, answered: “Such was not the compact
With our young Sháh. Thou hadst the jewels, silver,
And gold, and didst adventure for this field;
Ask but mine aidance then to show the way.”
Bízhan heard with amaze, his outlook darkened,
But lion-like he went inside the forest,
Undaunted strung his bow, roared mightily
As 'twere a cloud in spring, and brought the leaves
Down like a shower of rain, then sword in hand
Like some mad elephant he chased the boars
While they rushed at him, tusking up the earth.
Then came one boar, a very Áhriman,
Whose tushes cut through trees like files through
stone,
And rent his haubork while the reek of fight
Rose o'er the mead. Bízhan's sword smote the boar
And clave its elephantine form. The beasts
So fierce before grew fox-like; all were stained
With blood from sword-cuts; they had had enough
Of combating. Bízhan cut off their heads,
And tied them to his charger's saddle-straps,
That he might lay the tusks before the Sháh;
And furthermore, in order to display
His courage to the Íránian chiefs, he flung
Some headless trunks, like mountains, on a wain,
And buffalos were wearied with the strain.
Apart drew near the forest sullenly,
And all the wood gloomed in his eyes albeit
He praised Bízhan and made a show of joy.
That matter grieved his heart, he feared disgrace,
And Áhriman seduced him. He was fain
To do Bízhan a mischief; 'twas his wish,
And so ordained. He thought not of the Maker,
But he that diggeth pitfalls in the way
Hath reason to walk warily himself.
Gurgín for his own profit and renown
Spread out his nets upon the young man's path,
And said: “O paladin, thou Heart of combat,
And Soul of wisdom! many an enterprise
Like this thou wilt achieve through thy high fortune
And God's support. Now I must tell thee somewhat,
For I have been here often in past time
With Rustam and with Gív and Gustaham,
With Gazhdaham and Tús son of Naudar.
How many a feat of prowess done by us
Hath heaven witnessed on this spacious plain—
And rendered us the dearer to Khusrau!
There is a pleasure-ground not far away,
And only two days' journey from Túrán,
Where thou wilt see a plain all red and yellow—
One to rejoice a hero's heart, all woods
And pleasances and rivulets, a spot
Fit for a paladin, with painted silk
For soil, and airs musk-laden: thou wouldst say:—
‘Perchance it is rose-water in the streams.’
The jasmine-branches bend beneath their burden;
The roses, which the pheasants love to haunt,
Are there the idols, and their worshippers
The bulbuls singing in the cypress-boughs.
Now from this present for a little while
Yon river's marge will be like Paradise,
And on the plain and uplands thou wilt see
In merry parties fay-faced damsels sitting.
Manízha, daughter of Afrásiyáb,
Will make that garden radiant as the sun,
And with a hundred handmaids—perfect pictures,
All daughters of the Turkmans, modest maids,
As tall as cypress-trees, with musky hair,
And cheeks like roses, dreamy eyes, and wine
That savoureth rose-water on their lips—
Will set up her pavilion on yon meadows.
Thou wilt behold the plain bedecked throughout
With riches like an idol-house in Chín.
Now if we go toward that pleasure-ground,
And hurry o'er the journey in one day,
We may bear off some of those fay-faced damsels,
And win the approbation of Khusrau.”
In this wise spake Gurgín. Bízhan was young,
And all the paladin was stirred in him.
He was a youth and followed youthful fashion,
Some whiles pursuing fame and some whiles passion.
Led by desire, the other by revenge.
Bízhan, the refuge of the host, alighted
Between two forests after one day's march.
He and Gurgín enjoyed two days with hawk
And cheetah in those meadows of Irmán.
On hearing that that marriageable maid
Had come, and decked the whole waste like the eye
Of chanticleer, Gurgín informed Bízhan,
And told him of the minstrelsy and feasting,
Whereat “Now will I,” thus Bízhan responded,
“Go forward and examine from a distance
The scene and manner of the Turkmans' revels;
Then with my polished spear-head lifted skyward
Will I turn rein. We shall advise the better,
As feeling more assured, when we have seen.”
He bade the treasurer: “Bring the crown that used,
Worn by my sire, to light the banquet-hall,
Because our way is banquet-ward. Bring likewise
The earrings and the torque that Kai Khusrau
Bestowed on me, and Gív's bejewelled armlet.”
He donned a glittering tunic made in Rúm,
And stuck an eagle's feather in his crown.
They put the saddle on his steed Shabrang
While he bade bring the girdle and the signet
Went to the spot in haste.
He reached the forest,
His heart preoccupied with its desires,
He drew anigh that Fair's pavilion,
Desire contending in his heart the while,
And went beneath a lofty cypress-tree
For shelter from the sun. The plain, with all
Its sounds of harp and song gave, thou hadst said,
His soul a welcome. When the fair one saw
The visage of the chieftain from her tent—
The cheeks as 'twere Canopus of Yaman,
Or jasmine blossoming mid violets—
Whilé on his head he wore the crown that marked
A chief of paladins, and all his breast
Blazed with brocade of Rúm, the maiden yearned
For love of him, who came in quest of love,
And sent her nurse as envoy, saying thus:—
“Go 'neath the boughs of yonder lofty cypress,
And find out who he is—yon moonlike one.
Can it be Siyáwush returned to life,
Or else a fairy? Question him and say:—
‘How hast thou come and who hath brought thee
hither?
Art thou of fairy-birth or Siyáwush
That thou dost fill our hearts with love for thee,
For thou hast lit a raging fire of love,
Unless the Resurrection be upon us,
Because for years have I been holding revel
Upon these meads each spring, and we have seen
None in this pleasance; but I now see thee,
O noble Cypress! and it is enough.’
Say to him: ‘Whether thou art man or fairy
Come to our festival. I have not looked
Inform us of thy name and whence thou comest.’”
The nurse, when she had come and done obeisance,
Gave him Manízha's message, and his cheeks
Bloomed like the rose. He saw his wish achieved,
And answered thus: “I am not Siyáwush,
Or fairy-born, sweet-spoken messenger!
But from Írán—the country of the free.
Bízhan am I, the son of Gív, and came
All keenly thence to battle with wild boars.
I took their heads and threw them by the way
To bear their tushes to the Sháh; but hearing
About this pleasance did not hurry back
To Gív, son of Gúdarz, if so good fortune
Might show me though but in a dream the face
Of her—the daughter of Afrásiyáb;
And now I see that all the plain is decked
With treasures like an idol-house in Chín.
If thou wilt show me kindness I will give thee
A crown of gold with earrings and a girdle,
And thou shalt lead me to yon lady fair,
And bring her heart to love me.”
She returned,
And bore the secret to Manízha's ear:—
“His countenance and mien are such and such,
In such and such wise hath the Maker made him.”
Manízha sent an answer back forthwith:—
“What seemed a fancy is within thy grasp,
And shed a light on this dark soul of mine.
Mine eyes will brighten at the sight of thee,
Vale, plain, and tents will turn to rosaries.”
With neither heart nor ear for aught beside
Her words he followed and she acted guide.298
No room was left for further parleying.
Forth from beneath the shadow of the cypress
Bízhan proceeded hastily afoot
Toward Manízha's tent and entered it,
In favour like a stately cypress-tree,
Girt with a golden girdle round his loins.
Manízha came and clasped him to her breast,
Unloosed the royal girdle from his waist,
Asked of his journey, equipage, and business,
And said: “Who came with thee to fight the boars?
Why trouble with a mace, O comely one,
Who hast a shape like this, such mien and bearing?”
They bathed his feet in musk and pure rose-water,
Then hasted to set meat, they spread the board
With various viands in profuse abundance,
And held high revelry with wine and harp,
Excluding every stranger from the tent.
The handmaids standing in attendance there
Played on the lyre and lute. The ground resembled
The colours of a peacock with brocade
All dappled with dínárs like leopards' backs,
While all the tent-enclosure was adorned
With musk and jewels, ambergris and gold.
Old wine in crystal cups gave to Bízhan
New strength, but, when three days and nights had
passed
In pleasure, sleep and drink prevailed at last.
Arrived, still longed to gaze upon Bízhan,
And, since his face was gloomy, called her handmaids,
And bade them mingle with a grateful draught
A drug that maketh senseless. This they gave him,
And he, bemused already, swallowed it;
His head sank down and he was lost to sense.
She made a litter to transport the sleeper,
A couch for him on one side, on the other
An easy seat for her. She sprinkled camphor
Upon his couch, and with rose-water drenched
The sandal-wood.
On coming near the city
She veiled the sleeper in a woman's wrapper,
And, entering the palace privily
By night, preserved her secret. She prepared
A chamber and, impatient for Bízhan
To wake, poured in his ear a rousing potion
To bring his senses back. He woke and found
That jasmine-bosomed beauty in his arms,
His head and hers both resting on a pillow,
And in the palace of Afrásiyáb!
Distracted with himself he turned for refuge
To God from Áhriman and thus exclaimed:—
“As for myself there will be no escaping,
O God Almighty! hence. But oh! that Thou
Wouldst execute my vengeance on Gurgín,
And hear the pains and malisons that I
Invoke on him! He led me into this,
Reciting over me a thousand spells.”
Manízha said to him: “Be of good cheer,
And treat all save the present as mere wind.
And feast and fight by turn.”
They banqueted;
Before them was the gibbet or espousal:
They called the rose-cheeked damsels from their bowers,
And decked them in brocade of Chín; forthwith
These girls with fairy faces took the harp,
And fleeted day and night in merriment.
Anon the chamberlain got wind thereof,
And, since one acting on an idle rumour
Will shake the fruit down from the tree of bale,
He took upon him to investigate,
Inquiring who the man was, from what country,
And what he sought in coming to Túrán,
So learned the truth and, fearing for his life,
Went, as the only way to save himself,
Before Afrásiyáb and said to him:—
“Thy daughter hath a lover from Írán!”
The monarch called on God, and thou hadst said:—
“He trembled like the willow in a blast.”
Then from the lashes of his eyes he wiped
The tears of blood and raged, and spake this saw:—
“One with a daughter in his house to guard
May have a crown indeed but is ill-starred.”
He was confounded at Manízha's deed,
Called to him princely Kurákhán and said:—
“Advise me in the matter of this wanton.”
Then Kurákhán: “Examine with more care:
“If so it be there is no more to say,
But hearing is not seeing.”
Instantly
The monarch looked at Garsíwaz and said:—
“What we have borne and still bear from Írán!
Íránian troubles and an evil child?
Go take with thee some prudent cavaliers,
Keep watch upon the palace—roof and gates—
Look well, and any man whom thou shalt see
Therein secure with bonds and drag to me.”
As Garsíwaz approached the gate the sound
Of feast and revelry was heard within,
The music of the rebeck and the harp
Rose from the palace of Afrásiyáb.
The cavaliers seized on the roof and gates,
And occupied the outlets everywhere.
When Garsíwaz found that the palace-portal
Was fastened, and heard revels going on,
He broke down all obstructions, rushed within,
And sought the chamber where the stranger was.
Now when he reached the door and saw Bízhan
His blood boiled up with rage, for in that chamber
There were three hundred handmaids busied all
With harp and wine and singing, and among them,
With red wine at his lips and making merry,
Bízhan! Then Garsíwaz cried out in anguish:—
“O reckless and abandoned profligate!
Now art thou in the savage Lion's clutch.
How wilt thou 'scape with life?”
Bízhan writhed, thinking:—
“How can I fight unarmed, without Shabrang,
Or aught to ride? Luck, sure, hath gone to-day!
Where now is Gív son of Gúdarz, that I
Must throw away my life? I see no helper,
But God.”
He always carried in his boot
The door exclaimed: “Bízhan am I and sprung
From that high chief of paladins and nobles,
Kishwád. None e'er shall break my skin unless
His body is aweary of its head,
And though 'twere Doomsday none should see my
back.”
He cried to Garsíwaz: “Ill fortune thus
Hath dealt with me. Thou knowest my forefathers,
My monarch, and my rank among the chiefs;
If ye will fight I am prepared to bathe
My hands in blood in battle, and behead
Full many a Turkman chief; if thou wilt bear me
Before the king I will explain. Do thou
Ask him to spare my life, and make all end
In happiness.”
Then Garsíwaz, perceiving
The resolution, the dexterity,
And readiness to fight shown by Bízhan,
Confirmed a covenant with him by oaths,
And courteously advised him, thus obtaining
The dagger from him by that covenant,
And making him a prisoner by smooth words;
Then bound him cheetah-like from head to foot.
With fortune gone will prowess aught avail?
Thus is it with yon hump-backed sky above,
Thou'lt feel its harshness when it looketh love.
They carried him with sallow cheeks and eyes
Fulfilled with tears before Afrásiyáb,
The hero, when he came with pinioned arms
And bare of head before the sovereign,
Did reverence and said: “Vouchsafe, O king!
By any wish of mine; none is to blame.
I left Írán to fight against wild boars,
And chanced on this Túránian festival.
I sent my kindred and my retinue
To seek a falcon that had gone astray,
And went to sleep beneath a cypress-tree,
So that its shade might shield me from the sun.
A fairy came. She spread her wings and took me,
Still sleeping, in her arms. She left my charger,
And bore me where the escort of thy daughter
With troops of cavaliers and many litters
Passed by upon the plain. Then there appeared
Hemmed in by horse a Turkman parasol,
And brand-new litter canopied with silk;
Within a lovely Idol slept; her crown
Was lying on her pillow. Suddenly
The fairy called on Áhriman, and, rushing
Like wind among the horsemen, set me down
Inside the litter, and recited charms
Above the charmer there, that I might sleep
Until I reached the palace of the king;
So I was not to blame, nor hath Manízha
Been smirched by what hath passed. Assuredly
That fay had marred my fortune by her spells.”
Afrásiyáb replied: “Thine evil day
Hath come apace. Departing from Írán
Thou soughtest fight and fame with mace and lasso;
Now with hands bound thou tellest women's dreams;
Like one bemused, and triest lies upon me
To save thy life.”
Hear what I say to thee and be advised.
Boars with their tusks and lions with their claws
Are alway fit for fighting; so are heroes
That have their scimitars and bows and arrows;
But how when one is naked with bound hands,
The other in a panoply of steel?
How can a lion pounce without sharp claws
However fierce? If now the king would see
My prowess shown to all, let him provide
A horse and massive mace for me, and make
Choice of a thousand chieftains from the Turkmans;
Then hold me not a man if I leave one
Alive of all the thousand on the field.”
The king regarded him with angry looks
At this, then turned to Garsíwaz, and said:—
“Dost thou not see that this fell Áhriman
Is meditating further ills for me,
And not contented with the evil done
Would fight as well? Take him bound hand and foot,
Just as he is, and rid the world of him.
Command to set a gibbet in the road
Before the gate, there hang the wretch alive,
And never speak of him to me again,
So that no native of Írán may dare
Henceforth to cast an eye upon Túrán.”
They dragged him, stricken to the heart with anguish,
His eyes a-stream, forth from Afrásiyáb,
And, when Bízhan the wretched reached the door,
His feet stuck in the mire made by his tears.
He said: “If God Almighty hath decreed
That I must die in miserable plight
I do not fear the dying or the gibbet;
My smart is for the warriors of Írán,
Alas! mine adversaries will exult,
Their lust will all be satisfied upon me.
Alas! the king of kings! the looks of Gív!
Alas! thus to be parted from the brave!
Go, breezes! to the country of Írán,
And bear my message to the well-loved Sháh.
Tell him: ‘Bízhan is in an evil case;
His body is beneath the Lion's claws.’
Say from me to Gúdarz son of Kishwád:—
‘My glory hath departed through Gurgín:
He cast me into evil so that now
I see not any one to succour me.’
And to Gurgín: ‘What greeting shall I have
From thee, false warrior! beyond the grave?’”
Howbeit God had mercy on his youth,
And foiled the king's intent, for as they dug
A hole wherein to plant the gallows-tree,
Pírán, for so it chanced, was seen approaching.
Now when he reached the place and saw the road
All occupied by Turkmans under arms,
And that a lofty gibbet had been reared,
Wherefrom a twisted lasso dangled down,
He asked the people: “Wherefore is this gibbet?
Who hath incurred the anger of the king?”
Then Garsíwaz made answer: “For Bízhan
The Íránian, the monarch's enemy.”
Pírán urged on his charger and, when near
Bízhan, beheld him stricken to the heart
And naked, with his two hands bound behind him
Firm as a rock, his mouth parched, his cheeks wan.
Pírán inquired of him: “How camest thou hither?
Thou camest from Írán no doubt for blood.”
Bízhan related all that he had suffered
From his false friend. Pírán had pity on him,
And weeping bade them leave Bízhan awhile
May have an audience with the sovereign,
And show him what will be the happiest course.”
He galloped palace-ward, approached the king
In humble attitude with folded arms,
And walking quickly to the throne called down
With fervour blessings on Afrásiyáb.
When, like an honest guide and minister,
He stood before the throne, the king knew well
That he was standing there to ask a boon,
And smiling said to him: “What wouldst thou?
Speak.
None is more honoured with me than thyself.
If thy petition is for gold or jewels,
For realm or army, I will not withhold
My treasures. Why hast thou bestowed these pains!”
Pírán, the loyal, heard and kissed the ground,
Leaped up and said: “Sit on the throne for ever,
And may good fortune haunt no other place.
The monarchs of the earth proclaim thy praises,
The bright sun blesseth thee. Through thy good
fortune
I need not horses, followers, or power.
I ask not for myself, none of thy subjects
Hath need to ask; my fortune is thy rule,
My stay thy glorious chiefs. Concerned am I
Lest any suffer through my reticence,
Advised the king erewhile? But since my words
Availed not I have held my peace of late.
‘Slay not the son of Kai Káús,’ I said,
‘'Twill make thee enemies of Tús and Rustam,
And Siyáwush who is of Kaian race
Hath girt his loins to serve thee loyally;
Peace will be broken and the Íránians
Will trample on us with their elephants.’
Yet didst thou out of simple wantonness
Slay Siyáwush, and mingle bane with sweets.
It may be that thou hast forgotten Gív,
And Rustam the brave chief of paladins.
Hast thou not seen what ills the Íránians
Have wrought upon the country of Túrán
By trampling with their beasts the greater part,
And turning fortune's stream to bitterness?
As yet Zál's sword-point is not worn away
Inside its sheath, for Rustam scattereth heads
Therewith, and spurteth blood upon the sun.
Wilt thou seek war in peace, and wantonly
Sniff at the bloom of bane? If thou shalt shed
Bízhan's blood in this matter from Túrán
There will go up a dust-cloud of revenge.
Thou art a wise king; we are only lieges;
Ope thy heart's eye, consider how the Sháh
Requited thee for former injuries.
In sooth thou art provoking fresh demands,
And bringing into fruit the tree of bale.
We cannot bear, O mighty sovereign,
And master of the world! another war.
That savage Crocodile, and him who will
Come forth to fight us for his grandson's sake,
Gúdarz, son of Kishwád, whose hand is steel!”
As he threw water on the raging fire
Afrásiyáb replied: “Dost thou not know
What he hath done, and brought disgrace upon us
Both here and in Írán? Dost thou not see
How mine abandoned daughter hath heaped shame
Upon my hoary head, and made the names
Of all my women-folk the common talk?
For this disgrace all lands and mine own troops
Will ever make my court their laughing-stock;
If he shall live all men will wag their tongues
At me, I shall be wretched and despised,
And ever from mine eyes shed tears of gall.”
Pírán did reverence ofttimes and replied:—
“O monarch of good fortune and just speech!
'Tis as the king hath said. His only object
Is his good name. But let my lord consider
The prudent counsel that I offer him.
Let us confine Bízhan with heavy chains,
Such that he would prefer death on the gibbet;
'Twill be a warning to the Íránians,
Who will not strive to injure us hereafter,
For no one readeth on the muster-roll
The names of captives in thy prison-house.”
The monarch acted as Pírán advised,
Perceiving that his heart and tongue agreed.
Good ministers with their good counsellings
Illume the Grace divine and throne of kings.
Afrásiyáb commanded Garsíwaz:—
“Prepare a gloomy pit and weighty bonds,
Secure with chains Bízhan's hands to a yoke
Bridge-like, as Rúmans do, from head to foot
Then throw him in the pit head first—no more
Of sun and moon for him! Take elephants,
And fetch the boulder of the dív Akwán,
Which God raised from the ocean-depth and cast
Upon a wood in Chín. Thus will I be
Avenged upon Bízhan. Convey this stone,
Which covereth the dungeon of Arzhang,
Upon high-crested elephants, and cover
Bízhan's, then leave him to go mad with anguish.
Take horsemen, sack the palace of that wanton—
Manízha, who hath shamed her quality—
Deprive her of her fortune, crown, and state,
And say to her: ‘Thou wretched and accursed,
Who art unworthy of the throne and crown!
Thou hast abased my head among the kings,
And cast my diadem upon the dust.’
Then drag her naked to the pit and say:—
‘Behold him whom thou sawest on the throne
Here in this pit! Thou art his Spring, console him,
And wait upon him in his gloomy cell.’”
So Garsíwaz departed from the presence.
They carried out the monarch's evil purpose;
They haled the son of Gív back from the gallows,
And bore him to the pit's mouth in his bonds,
There fettered him from head to foot in iron,
His waist with Rúman chains, his hands with gyves,
While smiths with steel and hammers made secure
The massive rivetings, and then they flung him
Head-foremost down the pit and set the stone
Upon it. Garsíwaz thence led his troop
To where the daughter of Afrásiyáb
And made a fresh disposal of the wealth.
Manízha was reduced to naked feet,
Bare head, and single wrap. He hustled her
Forth to the pit. Her eyes wept tears of blood;
Her cheeks were like the spring.
“Behold,” he said,
“Thy house and home! Henceforth thou art to be
This prisoner's drudge!”
He turned back, and Manízha,
The spouse of woe, roamed wailing o'er the plain.
Now when a day and night had passed she came
With lamentations to the pit, and made
A passage large enough to pass one hand.
Thereafter when the sun rose o'er the hills
She used to gather food at every door
By day-long wanderings and pass it through
The crevice to Bízhan, and weep. Thus she
Lived for a while in abject misery.
When one week passed, and still Bízhan returned not,
Gurgín began to search on every side
In haste and bathed his face in tears of blood.
Repenting of his ill intents he sought
The place wherein Bízhan had gone astray,
And heard not e'en a twitter from the birds.
He sought too in the mead, and all at once
Spied in the distance on the river-bank,
With bridle broken and with saddle dragging,
With hanging lip and in an angry mood,
His comrade's steed, and knew: “Bízhan is sped!
He will not live to come back to Írán.
By gibbet or by prison or by bonds
Ill hath befallen him from Afrásiyáb.”
Repentant and perplexed he flung his lasso,311
And turning led Bízhan's steed from the meadow
Back to his tent where he abode one day,
Then, sleepless and unresting, sought Írán.
The Sháh, on hearing that Gurgín had come
Without Bízhan, would fain have been the first
To question him, so told not Gív, yet Gív
Heard of his brave son's loss, rushed to the street,
Pierced to the heart with anguish and with cheeks
All tears, and cried: “Bízhan returneth not!
I wis not why he stayeth in Irmán.”
Then, vengeful as a crocodile at heart,
He gave command to put the poplar saddle
Upon Kishwád's own bay, which he was wont
To hold reserved against the day of need,
And, having mounted, parted like a blast
Was, and about the case. “Good sooth!” he thought,
“Gurgín hath done him mischief secretly.
I will behead Gurgín or see my son.”
Gurgín on catching sight of Gív dismounted,
Ran up to him and, wallowing in the dust
With head uncovered and torn cheeks, exclaimed:—
“O thou that art the chosen of the host,
Chief of Írán and captain of the Sháh!
Why hast thou come to meet me on my way?
Why hast thou come thus weeping tears of blood?
I shall not wish to live if aught more wretched
Shall now betide me. All ashamed am I
To look thee in the face; I too am pouring
The hot blood from mine eyes, but be not troubled
About his life. No harm hath come to him
As I will prove to thee.”
Gív, when he saw
His son's horse and Gurgín, all dust and dazed
Like one bemused, thus leading it, and when
He heard those words, fell from his steed and swooned.
His head was hidden by the dust. He rent
The raiment that he wore as paladin,
Plucked out his hair, and with a cry of anguish
Poured dust upon his head.
“O Thou,” he said,
“Who art the Almighty Master of the sky,
And hast endowed my heart with sense and love!
I hold it good, now that my son is lost,
That thou shouldst snap my cord of life and take
My spirit to the mansions of the blest:
Thou knowest best the anguish of my heart.
I had no son but him to soothe my griefs
Or aid me; now ill hap hath severed us,
And I am left thus in the Dragon's maw!”
He asked Gurgín again: “How went it all?
To quit thy sight? What ill befell him? Speak!
Who flung at him the meshes of the sky?
What dív encountered him upon the mead?
Who murdered him and ruined everything?
How didst thou find this charger riderless?
Where didst thou quit Bízhan?”
Gurgín replied:—
“Compose thyself and listen. In respect
To fighting with the wild boars in the wood,
Know, O thou paladin! and understand,
And be for aye the lustre of the throne,
We went to fight the boars and reached Irmán.
We saw a wood converted to a waste,
With trees cut down and trampled pasturage.
It was a haunt of boars, the people melted
Because of them! We raised our spears in fight,
And made a mighty shouting in the wood;
Wild boars came charging like so many mountains,
Not one by one but everywhere in herds.
We battled like two lions, and day failed
Before our hearts were satiate of strife.
We threw their elephantine carcases
In heaps and prized their teeth out. Thence we set
Our faces toward Írán and merrily
Went after game. An onager was started,
And none will see a goodlier sight. Its coat
Was like Gulgún's, the charger of Gúdarz;
Its face was like Farhád's grey Shabáhang,
With limbs like the Símurgh's, and hoofs like steel.
'Twas like Bízhan's Shabrang in head and ear
And tail, its neck was lion-like, its speed
Like wind. Thou wouldst have said: ‘Its sire is
Rakhsh.’
Who flung his lasso o'er its head. To fling
Was one with to be borne away! Off rushed
The onager! Bízhan sped after it,
And through the beast's pace and the horseman's
dust
A reek arose, the earth heaved like the sea,
The lassoer and onager both vanished.
My steed was weary, so I ran o'er hill
And plain, but found no traces of Bízhan,
Except this steed whose saddle dragged behind.
My heart burned at his plight: ‘How will he fare
In his contention with the onager?’
I tarried long upon the pasture, searching
On all sides for him, and have come back hopeless,
For that fierce onager was the White Dív!”
Shrewd Gív, on hearing, deemed: “Bízhan is sped!”
He marked Gurgín's confused account, those eyes
That could not look him in the face, those cheeks
Grown wan with terror of the Sháh, that body
A-tremble, and that conscience-stricken heart,
And ascertaining that his son was lost,
And that the whole account was fraudulent,
Was moved by Áhriman to lay Gurgín
Dead on the road in vengeance for Bízhan,
The well-beloved, although disgrace might follow.
Albeit on reflection he perceived
That this would leave the matter dark, and said:—
“What shall I gain by slaying him save pleasing
Malignant Áhriman? How will it aid
Bízhan to slay Gurgín? We must employ
Another means; revenge is no great task;
He is no wall to stop my lance's point;
Before the Sháh.”
He cried out at Gurgín:—
“Thou wicked and injurious Áhriman!
Thou hast deprived me of my Sun and Moon—
The choicest of the horsemen and my Sháh—
And set me searching all the world for aid.
Where through thy practice, guile, and lies shall I
Henceforward find contentment, rest, and sleep?
I will not suffer thee to go at large
Until I have an audience with the Sháh;
Then with my poniard will I wreak on thee
Revenge for him who was mine Eye to me.”
With bloodshot eyes and vengeance in his heart
Gív went before the Sháh, blessed him, and said:—
“For ever fleet the world in joy, O king!
Thou blesséd, well-starred monarch! seest thou not
What hath befallen me? I had one son—
A youth who was my care both night and day.
I wept for fear of danger to him, burned
For fear of losing him; and now, O Sháh!
Gurgín hath come back with an idle tongue,
With guilty soul, and evil news of him—
My stainless and illustrious minister.
Gurgín hath brought a steed in disarray,
But not another token of Bízhan!
If now my lord will carefully consider
My case, and see me righted in the matter,
He will do justice for me on Gurgín—
The man that put this dust upon my head.”
The Sháh was troubled at Gív's grief, assumed
The crown in anger, sat upon the throne
With pallid cheeks in sorrow for Bízhan,
Where saith he that he left his upright comrade?”
Gív told the tale about his gallant son
As given by Gurgín. Then said Khusrau:—
“Brood not nor fret; Bízhan is safe; be easy
And hopeful touching that lost son of thine,
For I but now heard from the archimages—
The men of wisdom shrowd of heart and famous—
That I shall lead the Íránian cavaliers
Against Túrán anon to seek revenge
For Siyáwush, and with mine elephants
Destroy that land. Bízhan will take the field
And fight like Áhriman. Depart in peace;
Good sooth, I greatly long for him myself.”
So Gív withdrew in tears, pale and distraught.
Gurgín, on coming to the palace-gate,
Found it deserted; all the paladins
Had gone with Gív lamenting for Bízhan.
Gurgín, his wicked soul fulfilled with shame,
Went in to audience. Having reached Khusrau
He kissed the ground and offered reverence,
Then laid the boars' tusks hard as diamonds
Before the throne and did obeisance, saying:—
“May Kai Khusrau be all victorious,
His life like New Year's Day, and may the heads
Of all thy foes be severed by the shears,
E'en as the heads of these wild boars.”
The Sháh
Gazed on the tusks and asked: “How went the
journey?
Where did Bízhan part company? What evil
Hath Áhriman wrought on him?”
Spake thus Gurgín stood all confused with tongue
That idly blabbed and guilty soul. His cheeks
Were pale, he shook in terror of the Sháh,
And babbled much and incoherently
Of forest, onager, and pasturage.
Now, when his words accorded not, Khusrau,
Perceiving him malicious and confused,
Was wroth and drave him out, upbraiding him,
And saying: “Hast thou heard not Zál's old saw:—
‘To meet the offspring of Gúdarz in strife
Would put a period to a lion's life?’
But for the shame, and that thou wouldest make
An evil ending in the sight of God,
I would bid Áhriman pluck off thy head,
As 'twere a bird's.”
Then said he to a smith:—
“Forge heavy shackles with the rivets strong.”
He had Gurgín's feet fettered presently,
Because the knave is schooled by bonds, and said
To Gív: “Compose thyself. Do thou be instant
In seeking for him everywhere, and I
Will send out many cavaliers well armed
In all directions to obtain some news
About him, and be prompt and vigilant;
But, if I hear not soon, still keep thy wits
And wait for Farwardín, until the sun—
The object of our worship—groweth bright.
When roses glad the garden, breezes strew
The petals o'er thy head, when earth is donning
Its robe of green, and zephyrs sigh o'er roses,
Then shall my pious prayers rise to Urmuzd—
Prayers that our God commandeth. Then will I
Call for the cup that mirroreth the world,
And stand before God's presence. In that cup
Both field and fell and all the provinces,
Will offer reverence to mine ancestors,
My chosen, gracious lords, and thou shalt know
Where thy son is. The cup will show me all.”
Gív was rejoiced, ceased from solicitude,
And smiling did obeisance, saying thus:—
“May time and earth ne'er be deprived of thee!
May heaven above attend thy will, and may
No ill befall thee from the evil eye.”
When Gív had gone the Sháh sent cavaliers
To search in every quarter for Bízhan;
In all Írán and all Túrán they sought
For traces of him, but discovered naught.
When jocund New Year's Day arrived Gív yearned
For consultation with that glorious cup,
And came, bent double on his son's account
But hopeful, to Khusrau who, seeing him
With shrunken cheeks and sorely stricken heart,
Went and arrayed himself in Rúman garb
To seek God's presence. Then before the Maker
He cried and ofttimes blessed the Shining One,318
Imploring of the Succourer succour, strength,
And justice on pernicious Ahriman,
The Kaian crown, took up the cup, and gazed.
He saw the seven climes reflected there,
And every act and presage of high heaven,
Their fashion, cast, and scope, made manifest.
From Aries to Pisces he beheld
All mirrored in it—Saturn, Jupiter,
Mars, Leo, Sol and Luna, Mercury,
And Venus. In that cup the wizard-king
Was wont to see futurity. He scanned
The seven climes for traces of Bízhan,
And, when he reached the Kargasárs, beheld him
By God's decree fast fettered in the pit,
And praying in his misery for death,
With one, the daughter of a royal race,
Attending him. The Sháh, with smiles that lighted
The daïs, turned his face to Gív and said:—
“Bízhan is yet alive; be of good cheer;
Thou wilt not mind, I wot, his being chained
And prisoned since his life is whole in him,
For he is now a prisoner in Túrán,
Attended by a maid of noble birth.
Yet filled am I with sorrow for his plight,
He hath such travail, hardship, and affliction;
And both of them are weeping like a cloud
When it is springtide, such a life is theirs!
He hath no hope of seeing kith or kin,
But pineth trembling like a willow-bough,
Blood in his eyes and anguish in his heart.
He calleth on his kinsmen and he weepeth
As 'twere a cloud in spring; his life is such
That he desireth death! Who will come forward
To rescue him, who rise with girded loins?
Who from this durance liberate Bízhan?
None save deft Rustam—he who from the deep
Will drag the crocodile. Gird up thy girdle,
Haste to Nímrúz, and rest not night or day.
Bear him my letter and breathe naught hereof.
Him will I summon to me, let him know
The case, and soon, O Gív! abate thy woe.”
A scribe was called, the Sháh instructed him
To write to Rustam as from lord to liege:—
“O paladin by birth and worshipful,
Exalted o'er the warriors of the world!
Thou dost remind me of thine ancestors,
And art for ever girdled for the fray.
Thou Heart of monarchs and thou Prop of kings,
With loins girt up to succour every one!
Pards yield them to thy manhood, crocodiles
Howl in the deep for fear of thee. Thou cleansedst
The world of the Mázandaránian dívs,
And torest off the heads of evil men.
How many a crownéd head hast thou dethroned,
And severed from the daïs! Many a foe
Is dead through thee, and many a land laid waste.
Chief paladin and refuge of the host!
Thine influence is mighty with the Sháhs;
Thou hast o'erthrown all sorcerers with thy mace,
And by thy bearing lit the crown of kings.
As for Afrásiyáb and for the Khán,
Thy name is writ in full upon their signets.
'Twould break the heart of any to undo
Knots tied by thee while thou undoest all,
And art a blessed heaven to the Kaians.
Breast, arm, and hand, and glorious birth, bestowed
them
For succouring those that cry, and lifting them
From their dark pit. An instance for thine aid,
And to a worthy kinsman, hath occurred,
Such as no scion of Gúdarz before
Experienced from dív-faced Túránians.
Gúdarz and Gív both place their trust in thee,
Who art a hero now in every land;
Thou know'st what place they have in mine esteem,
Thou know'st their courage, speech, and prudent
counsel;
Regard not then this thing as burdensome,
And ask whatever men and means thou wilt,
Because this family ne'er grieved till now:
The world hath heard of few more glorious.
Gív had not any son excepting this,
Who was at once a son and succourer.
Gív's influence with me is very great;
He hath been both my grandsire's friend and mine;
I always find him where I look for him,
And he hath stood by me in weal and woe.
But rise and come to me with Gív forthwith,
That we may take advice that shall result
In all points gloriously. I will provide
Men, treasure, and all requisites. I swear
By thine exalted name and glorious footsteps
That thou shalt work thy will upon Túrán.
Take order for the road: Bízhan will be
Delivered haply from captivity.”
Gív took the letter when the Sháh had sealed it,
Did reverence and, departing to his house,
Prepared to take his journey to Sístán.
He mounted all the horsemen of his kin,
And, having first commended him to God,
Departed through the desert to the Hírmund,
As one that rideth post, or like the game
That he put up, performing two days' journey
In one. With wounded hearts and eager steps
The party faced the deserts and the heights.
Now when the watchman saw Gív from the look-out
He passed the word on to Zábulistán:—
“A cavalier with mounted troops hath reached
The Hírmund; a standard fluttereth behind him;
A falchion of Kábul is in his hand.”
Zál heard the watchman's shout and bade his steed
Be bridled, then pricked forth to meet the comers,
Who haply might prove foes, but when he saw
Gív's withered face he was astound and hasted,
Supposing: “Something hath befallen the Sháh
Since Gív hath been sent hither from Írán!”
When near at hand the paladin and escort
Drew up across the road and greeted Zál,
The chieftains and Túránians. Gív then gave
To Zál the greetings of the great—the Sháh's
And high-born warriors'—and told his anguish
For his lost son: “Thou seest me wan, mine insteps
All dappled leopard-like with tears of blood!”
Then asked where Rustam was, and Zál replied:—
“He will return from hunting onager
At sunset.”
“I will go,” Gív said, “and see him;
I have a letter for him from Khusrau.”
“Go not,” Zál answered, “he will come anon,
So till he cometh tarry in the house,
And pass one day with us in happiness.”
Reflecting on the case they reached Zál's palace,
And even as Gív entered Rustam came.
Gív went to meet him and, on drawing nigh,
Dismounted from his horse and did obeisance.
His heart was yearning and he wept. When Rustam
Saw Gív heart-stricken and in tears he thought:—
“Írán then and the Sháh—our age's Moon—
Have perished!”
Lighting and embracing Gív
He asked about the wearer of the crown—
Khusrau—about Gúdarz, Tús, Gustaham,
And all the warriors both great and small—
Shápúr, Ruhhám, Bízhan, Farhád, Gurgín,
And every one. At mention of Bízhan
Gív uttered an involuntary cry,
The choicest of the princes of the earth!
Joy hath returned to me at sight of thee,
And through thy kindly greetings and thy words.
All those whom thou hast named are well and send
Thee salutation, peace, and messages,
Except Bízhan, O champion of the mighty!
Who is reported fettered in a dungeon.
Now seest thou not what stroke of evil fortune
Hath fallen full upon my hoary head?
I had but one son in the world, and he
Was both a son and upright minister,
And I have lost him! None e'er saw our race
In such affliction! Ever since have I
Been in the saddle, as thou seest me,
And speeding like the bright sun, night and day,
Just like the mad, to find some trace of him!
The Sháh hath in his world-reflecting cup…
He stood before the Maker, much imploring
And praising on the royal feast—the Urmuzd
Of Farwardín—then left the Fane of Fire,
Went to his throne, girt up his loins, assumed
The crown, and set the shining cup before him.
He searched therein past measure for Bízhan,
And indicated him as in Túrán,
In heavy fetters and disastrous plight,
And, having thus revealed him by the cup,
Sent me to thee in haste. I come in hope,
Although my cheeks are pale and dim mine eyes,
Because I look to thee alone for aid,
Who girdest up thy loins to succour all.”
With tears of gall, and from his heart he heaved
A chilling sigh. When he had given the letter
To Rustam he narrated what Gurgín
Had done, then bitterly bewailed Bízhan,
And poured down tears of blood upon his breast;
For he and Rustam had been long akin,
That chieftain's daughter was the wife of Gív,
While Rustam had Gív's sister for his spouse,
And gallant Farámarz by that brave dame.
Bízhan withal, that hero eminent
In every company, had for his mother
The daughter of the elephantine Rustam,
Who said to Gív: “Be not concerned hereat,
Because I will not take from Rakhsh the saddle
Till I have clasped Bízhan's hand in mine own,
And have demolished all his bonds and prison.
By God's strength, since the Sháh requireth it,
Will I release him from that darksome pit.”
Thence they departed to the hall of Rustam,
Discussing as they went what course to take.
When Rustam had perused the monarch's letter
He was o'erwhelmed at what Khusrau had said,
And all the praises that the worldlord Sháh
Gave to his famous captain of the host.
Then Rustam said to Gív: “I will dispatch,
And ready me to go as he commandeth.
I know how thou hast laboured, thine achievements,
And thy concernment in all enterprise.
How mighty is thine influence with me,
Who hast wooed war on every battlefield,
Alike in the revenge for Siyáwush,
And in the war against Mázandarán!
Thou hast borne travail too in coming hither,
And faring by a route so arduous.
I joy exceedingly to look upon thee
Although I am concerned about Bízhan.
And fortune-stricken. As the Sháh commandeth
In this his letter I will take the road,
And also out of my concern for thee
Will undertake the matter of Bízhan,
Will do my best and, if All-holy God
Shall leave my body and my soul together,
I will not grudge Bízhan life, troops, and treasure.
I gird me in God's strength and by the fortune
Of our victorious worldlord. I will rescue
Bízhan from bondage and from darksome pit,
And will re-seat him on the famous daïs.
Abide with me three days in joy, quaff wine,
Be free from care, for no division parteth
My house from thine, and thou and I are one
In treasure, soul, and body.”
At his words
Gív sprang up, kissed his hands and head and feet,
Applauded him, and said: “O man of name,
Endowed with strength and manhood, worth and
fortune!
Mayst thou have ever thus the heart and strength
Of elephants and archimages' prudence.
Thou dost partake all excellence, and so
Hast cleansed my heart from rust.”
When Rustam saw
Gív's heart content, and felt himself assured
That all would turn out well, he told his steward:—
“Set out the board and call the chiefs and sages.”
Then Farámarz, Zawára, Zál, and Gív
Sat at the banquet of the valiant chief.
Came to the hall of jewelled tracery;
The handles of the goblets blushed with wine,
The harps descanted and the cups went round.
Carousing thus in Rustam's palace Gív
Abode three days and made no haste to leave.
The fourth day they prepared to go, 'twas time;
So Rustam bade to pack the loads and make
All ready for the journey to Írán,
While at his gate his noble horsemen gathered,
Dight for the road. He came forth, mounted Rakhsh,
Girt up his loins, put on a Rúman vest,
And hung his grandsire's mace beside the saddle,
Intent on feats of arms and strategy.
Rakhsh struck the sky above him, but the head
Of crown-bestowing Rustam topped the sun.
They took their loads up, leaving Farámarz
Within Zábul, and Rustam, Gív, and troops—
Picked Zábulís, a hundred thousand strong—
Set forth upon the march toward Írán:
All hurried on with vengeance in their hearts.
When Rustam reached Írán, and when the throne
Of Kai Khusrau was coming into sight,
And gaiety the welcome of the sky.
Then Gív drew near to Rustam saying thus:—
“'Tis fit that I go first and tell the Sháh
That matchless Rakhsh hath measured all the road.”
Said Rustam: “Go rejoicing, say to him:—
‘Be quit of thy distress.’”
When Gív approached
The royal presence with much praise and homage
The Sháh demanded: “Where was Rustam left?
How have ye sped?”
Gív answered: “Sháh renowned!
Thy fortune bringeth all things to success.
He disobeyed thee not, I found his heart
Devoted to thee. When I gave thy letter
He pressed it to his face and eyes, and hitched
His reins to mine as should a faithful liege.
I have pushed on that I might tell the Sháh
That matchless Rustam is upon the road.”
“But,” said Khusrau, “where is that Prop of chiefs,
That Seed of loyalty? We needs must honour
One both so good and faithful.”
Gív replied:—
“Two stages back; I came on first to tell thee.”
Then Kai Khusrau gave orders to the sages,
The royal princes, and the mighty men,
To go forth with the host to welcome Rustam,
Who came obedient to the Sháh's command.
They told Gúdarz son of Kishwád, Farhád,
And Tús—chief of the offspring of Naudar.
The more part of the warriors and nobles,
Mace-bearers and foe-slayers, then arose
According to the usance of Káús.
The world was azure-dim with horsemen's dust,
The standards fluttered, and the chargers neighed.
When they drew near to Rustam they dismounted
And did obeisance. That chief paladin,
Alighting, greeted all the veterans,
And asked about the Sháh and how things went
Beneath resplendent sun and shining moon;
Then swiftly as the bright Ázargashasp
The warriors and Rustam all remounted.
He came before that Sháh, who loved his lieges,
With measured tread and offered reverence,
For 'twas his duty to revere and love,
Then raised his head, gave praise, and said: “Be
thou
Associate with the throne throughout thy years,
Urmuzd himself be present in this court,
Bahman be guardian of thy throne and crown,
May good Ardíbihisht, Bahrám, and Tír
Watch over thee, and may Shahrír endow thee
With triumph, fame, Grace, majesty, and prowess.
Be thine own sentinel Sapandármad,
May wisdom be the life of thy bright soul;
May Dai and Farwardín bless thee, the door
Of ill be barred, and may Ázar make night
As bright as day to thee, thyself rejoice,
Thy crown illume the world, and may Ábán
Make all thine undertakings glorious;
Be turning heaven before thee as a slave,
And may Murdád protect thy flocks and herds
Be ever glad in person and in fortune,
And may Khurdád spread joy o'er field and fell.”
When Rustam standing there had offered praise
The king of kings accorded him a seat
Upon the throne, and said: “Thou art well come;
Far be the hand of evil from thy life.
Thou art the paladin of this world's Kaians,
Who readest others but art read of none,
The Kaians' choice, the backbone of the host,
The warden of Írán, the army's refuge.
Thou hast rejoiced me by the sight of thee,
Who art so vigilant and worshipful!
Zawára, Farámarz, and Zál—are they
Hale, happy, and content?”
And Rustam answered,
Descending from the throne and kissing it:—
“O Sháh most honoured and of sleepless fortune!
Thereby all three are well and happy: blest
Indeed is he whom thou rememberest.”
The chamberlain threw wide the garden-gate,
And made all ready for a royal revel.
He gave command to set the golden crown
And throne beneath a bower that scattered roses,
And laid down court-brocade o'er all the pleasance,
Which shone as 'twere a lamp. They had a tree
Set up above the Sháh's throne to enshadow
It and the crown. The stem thereof was silver;
The branches were of gold and jewelry,
The jewels manifold and clustering,
The leaves of emeralds and carnelians,
And fruit hung down, like earrings, from the boughs.
The fruits were golden oranges and quinces
All hollow and all perforate like reeds,
And charged with musk worked up with wine that
when
The Sháh set any one upon the throne
The breeze might shower musk on him; such showers
Descended on the Sháh what time he came,
And took his seat upon the throne of gold.
Of jewels, gold brocade, and robes of Chín,
With torques and earrings, stood before the throne,
All clad in gold. All hearts were full of mirth.
The wine was in their hands, their cheeks were flushed,
Though no one was bemused, like cercis-bloom,
Or like brocade of Chín. The aloe-wood
Burned and the harps descanted. Then the Sháh
Gave orders to the chamberlain on duty,
And said: “Call Tús, Gúdarz, and all the chiefs.”
He ordered Rustam to approach the throne,
And sit with him beneath the tree. He said:—
“Thou happy bond 'twixt fortune and ourselves!
Thou art a shield betwixt Írán and ill
For aye with outstretched wings like the Símurgh,
And oft hast toiled for country and for king.
Thou knowest how the offspring of Gúdarz
In peace and war, in profit and in loss,
Stand in my presence with their loins girt up,
And always are my guides to what is good,
While, more than all, Gív shielded me from harm.
Such grief ne'er came before upon this house
(What greater sorrow than to lose a son?)
And wert thou not to undertake the task
I see none other helper in the world.
Now remedy this matter of Bízhan's,
Who hath been ill-entreated by Túrán,
And take of steeds and armour, men and treasure,
Whate'er is needed. Think it not a toil.”
When Rustam heard he kissed the ground, sprang up,
And blessed the Sháh: “O thou fair-famed,” he said,
“Who like the sun art potent everywhere!
And may thy foe's heart burn and agonize.
Thou art Sháh, lord, and chief above all kings,
And monarchs are the dust upon thy feet.
The throne, the bright sun, and the shining moon
Have never looked on such another Sháh.
Thou hast discerned between the good and bad,
And bound the Dragon with thy charms and chains.
My mother gave me birth to toil for thee;
Thine own part is enjoyment and repose.
I am obedient to the Sháh's commands,
And go where thou shalt bid. By royal Grace,
And by my massive mace, I plucked the heart
Out of the dívs erst in Mázandarán;
E'en so for Gív sake, though the sky should rain
Fire on my head, I will not heed and, though
The spear-points reach the lashes of mine eyes,
I will not turn rein from Khusrau's behest,
But by thy Grace will compass this achievement,
And ask for neither chief nor warriors.”
When Rustam had thus said, Gúdarz and Gív
With Faríburz, Farhád, the brave Shápúr,
And other chiefs, invoked on him God's blessing.
They took the cup and, pledging Zál and Rustam,
Became bemused with wine. Thus revelling
The Sháh oped festively the door of spring.
Gurgín heard bruit of Rustam and, aware
That thus a key to loose his grief had come,
Dispatched this message: “Man of fortune, Grace,
And fame, thou Tree of greatness, loyalty,
And treasure, Gate of noble men and Bond
Of bale! if words of mine afflict thee not
I will address thee touching what I did.
In quenching wantonly the light within me,
And pointing out to me the path of darkness!
'Twas written thus, and what hath been hath been.
I will lie down in fire before the Sháh
If I may find forgiveness; all is over
With my hoar head if my good name be lost;
So, if thou wilt plead for me, I will go,
Swift as a mountain-sheep, along with thee,
And wallow in the dust before Bízhan
If I may win mine unstained honour back.”
When Rustam heard he heaved a deep, cold sigh;
The anguish shown and message sent perturbed him;
He grieved at that request so fondly urged,
And bade the envoy: “Go, return, and say:—
‘Insensate wretch! hast heard not what the leopard
Said by the deep stream to the crocodile:—
‘“If passion gain the upper hand of wit,
Then nobody will 'scape the clutch of it”?
The sage that quelleth passion hath a record
As of a noble Lion; thine hath been
An ancient fox's, yet thou didst o'erlook
The snare! I should not grant thy frantic wish
That I should bring thy name before Khusrau,
Yet, since I see thee in such straits and all
Confounded, I will ask him to forgive thee,
And lighten thy dark moon. Then, if Bízhan
By God the Ruler of the world's command
Escape, thou wilt be freed and save thy life
From Gív's revenge. Should heaven will otherwise
Deem life and person as unworth thy love.
First will I go forth on my quest and vengeful
In God's strength at the bidding of the Sháh,
Will then take wreak on thee for his brave son.’”
Thus passed a night and day, and Rustam spake
Naught to the Sháh, but when upon the morrow
The sun displayed its crown and took its seat
Upon its silver-sheening ivory throne,
Came Rustam flying unto Kai Khusrau
To ask a boon of that victorious Sháh
While speaking of Gurgín, his fallen fortune,
And wretched plight. The Sháh said: “Chieftain
mine!
Thou wouldst then break my bonds and break with me,
Because I swore by throne, crown, Mars, and Venus,
And sun and moon: ‘Gurgín shall see but ill
From me unless Bízhan be freed from bondage.’
Excepting this ask of me what thou wilt
Of swords and signet-rings, of thrones and crowns.”
He answered: “Virtuous and famous prince!
If he intended harm he suffereth,
And is prepared to offer up his life;
But if the Sháh will not forgive him first
He will be outcast from the Faith and honour.
Whoever turneth from the way of wisdom
Will writhe for his ill-doing at the last.
Vouchsafe to call to mind Gurgín's exploits,
How he hath taken part in every fight,
And been a champion with thine ancestors;
If for my sake the Sháh will pardon him
His fortunes may be somewhat brightened yet.”
The Sháh, that Rustam might not plead in vain,
Released Gurgín from gloomy pit and chain.
The Sháh asked Rustam: “When wilt thou depart
For this campaign? Demand whate'er thou wilt—
Troops, treasure, and companions for the journey.
Will not long spare Bízhan. The king is headstrong,
And the injurious Dív, who taught him magic,
Anon will turn his heart aside and prompt him
To slay our swordsman.”
Rustam thus replied:—
“I will achieve this enterprise by stealth,
For only craft will loosen such a coil.
We must not give occasion for alarm,
But set off in the guise of merchantmen,
And tarry for a while within Túrán.
This is a case for drawing in the rein,
And not a time for maces, swords, and spear-points.
I shall require much silver, gold, and gems;
We start in hope but we shall stay in fear.
I shall need garments too and carpetings
For giving presents and as merchandise.”
On hearing Rustam's words Khusrau commanded
His treasurer to bring him whatsoever
His minister directed from the hoards
Laid up of yore. The royal treasurer
Undid the purses and bestrewed the throne
With jewels and dínárs. Came matchless Rustam,
Inspected all, and chose whate'er was needed.
He took ten camel-burdens of dínárs,
Five score of other ware; he next commanded
The chamberlain: “Choose out a thousand horse.
Some of the proud and noble lion-men
Must also gird themselves—Gurgín and Zanga,
The son of Sháwarán, next Gustaham,
The Falchion of the brave, and fourth Guráza,
The sentinel of warriors, throne, and crown,
Of valour, and Ashkash that lion-hero.
These seven warriors must make them ready
To overlook the escort and the goods.”
These, every one in his allotted part,
Vied in their preparations for the start.
Then Rustam bade those chieftains, those mace-
wielders,
Those dealers out of death, to gird themselves
At dawn what time the officer on duty
Came to the gate. At daybreak, when the cock crew,
They bound the drums upon the elephants,
While Rustam came forth like a lofty cypress,
Mace in his hand and lasso on his saddle.
He left the royal portal with his troops,
And called down blessings on the land. The chiefs
Went first, the soldiers followed, and all took
Their lives in hand, their guides were spears and
arrows,
And every hand had been imbrued in blood.
When Rustam reached the marches of Túrán
He picked out all the chiefs, then bade the troops:—
“Abide here cheerfully, move not unless
All-holy God deprive me of my life,
Be dight for battle and prepared for bloodshed.”
Thus in those marches of Írán he left them,
And went, he and the chiefs, towards Túrán.
The warriors undid their silver girdles,
And he arrayed them all in woollen robes.
They fared toward Túrán—a caravan
All scent and colour. There were eight fine steeds,
One Rakhsh, the others were the warriors' mounts,
Ten camels bearing bales of jewelry,
And five score bearing soldiers' uniforms.
The waste rang like the horn of Tahmúras
With bells and shouting. Rustam journeyed on
Until he reached the city of Pírán,
For there was one in those Túránian marches
Belonging to that chief, but he himself
Was at the chase; his palace was unguarded.
Now when he came back from the hunting-field
The matchless Rustam saw him on the road,
And having covered over with brocade
A golden goblet filled with precious stones
Gave it and therewithal two splendid steeds,
With saddles made of gold adorned with jewels,
To the attendants, and preceding them
Strode to Pírán's throne swiftly, did obeisance,
And said: “O prince whose fortune and whose prowess
Are famous in Irán and in Túrán!
Thy Grace and crown are peerless, for thou art
King's minister and glory of the throne.”
Pírán, so God ordained it, knew not Rustam,
But questioned him and said: “Whence art thou?
Speak!
What man art thou and wherefore hast thou come?”
He said: “I am thy subject. God assigned me
A cistern in thy city. I have measured
A long and grievous journey from Írán
And deal in every sort of merchandise.
My soul hath good assurance of thy love,
Such was the power of hope within my heart!
If now the paladin will take me 'neath
His wing I will buy cattle and sell jewels.
Through thy just dealing none will do me hurt,
The cloud-rack of thy love rain gems upon me.”
Then Rustam offered him before the lords
The cup of royal gems, and splendid Arabs
With coats too sleek to hold the wind-borne dust.
This wealth with many a blessing Rustam gave,
And fairly clinched the matter. When Pírán
Beheld the jewels in the brilliant cup
He praised and welcomed Rustam, seating him
Upon the turquoise throne, and said: “Depart
Content and enter with all confidence,
For I will lodge thee near me; be at ease
About thy goods, thou hast no foeman here.
Go fetch thy wares, seek buyers on all sides,
Make my son's house thy home, and be to me
As 'twere a kinsman.”
Rustam answered thus:—
“I will abide here with my caravan,
O paladin! What goods I have are thine,
And 'twill be well with me be where I may,
But in that I have jewels of all kinds,
And must not lose one, by thy conquering fortune
We will remain outside in great content.”
Pírán replied: “Go then and choose thy place,
And I will station guards for thy defence.”
So Rustam chose a house, appointed it,
And filled the warehouse with his goods and packs.
News spread: “A caravan out of Írán
Hath visited the noble paladin,”
When tidings reached them of those jewel-merchants.
Those that would buy brocade or stuffs or gems
Departed toward the court-gate of Pírán,
And when the sun arose the world to grace
The warehouse had become a market-place.
Manízha heard and hurried to the city;
Bare-headed, weeping bitterly, she came—
That daughter of Afrásiyáb—to Rustam,
And, wiping from her lashes with her sleeve
The tears of blood, blessed, greeted him, and said:—
“Enjoy'st thou life and wealth? God grant that thou
Mayst ne'er have reason to repent thy toils.
May heaven perform thy will, the evil eye
Not harm thee, and since thou hast heart of hope
May this thy travail not result in loss.
May wisdom ever be thy monitor,
And may Írán be blessed and fortunate.
What know'st thou of the warriors of the Sháh,
Of Gív, Gúdarz, and the Íránian host?
Have tidings of Bízhan not reached Írán?
Will not his supplications aught avail,
That such a youth—a scion of Gúdarz—
May be released from irons? His feet are galled
With fetters and his hands with blacksmiths' rivets!
He hath been dragged in chains, made fast in bonds!
Poor wretch! his clothes are soaked in his own blood!
I get no rest myself for I must beg.
His lamentations fill mine eyes with tears.”
And drave her forth. “Be off!” he cried. “I know not
Khusrau or this young chief. I have no tidings
About Gúdarz and Gív, and thou hast chattered
My wits away.”
Manízha looked at Rustam,
Wept bitterly, and showered tears of blood
Upon her bosom in her wretchedness.
She said to him: “O chieftain full of wisdom!
Such heartless words as these become thee not.
Drive me not from thee if thou wilt not talk,
For I am stricken to the heart with anguish.
Is it indeed the custom of Írán
To tell the poor no news?”
He answered thus:—
“What ailed thee, woman, then? Did Áhriman
Give thee a foretaste of the Day of Doom?
Thou didst prevent my trafficking, and therefore
I rated thee; but do not take to heart
My hastiness, my thoughts were on my trade.
Besides I have no home within the land
Of Kai Khusrau, I know naught of Gúdarz
And Gív, and ne'er have travelled in those marches.”
He bade to give the mendicant such food
As was at hand, then questioned her at large:—
“Why is't that fortune is so dark with thee?
Why ask about the Sháh's throne and Írán?
Why look upon the road that leadeth thither?”
She said to him: “Why ask about my case,
My travail, and my trouble? From the mouth
Of yonder pit have I with aching heart
Made haste to thee, O noble man! to ask
The latest news of Gív and of Gúdarz,
The warriors, and thou didst shout at me
As fighters shout! Fear'st not the Judge of all?
The daughter of Afrásiyáb am I—
Manízha. Never had the sun beheld
My form unveiled, but now with eyes all blood,
And heart all pain, with sallow cheeks I roam
So hath God willed! Can fortune be more
wretched?
Oh! that Almighty God would end it for me,
Because resourceless and in yon deep pit
Bízhan beholdeth neither night nor day,
Nor sun nor moon, but yoked and riveted
In heavy bonds is praying God for death.
Hence are my griefs redoubled, hence these tears.
Thou mayst, if thou art journeying to Írán,
Hear of Gúdarz son of Kishwád, or see
About the court-gate Gív or gallant Rustam;
Then say: ‘Bízhan is in a pit and, save
Thou comest quickly, all is over with him.
If thou wouldst look upon him tarry not,
For iron is below him, stone above.’”
Thus Rustam answered her: “O fair of face!
Why rain these tears of love? Why not invite
Thy nobles' intercession with thy sire?
He may be pitiful, his blood may stir,
His liver burn; but for my fear of him
I would have furnished thee with countless things.”
Then said he to the cooks: “Bring forth for her
Of every kind of victual that she needeth.”
He bade them fetch a bird hot from the spit,
And, as he wrapped it in soft bread,340
slipped in,
As with a fairy's touch, his signet-ring,
And said: “Convey this to yon pit. A guide
Art thou to those who have no help beside.”
The food wrapped in a cloth clasped to her breast,
And gave all to Bízhan. He saw amazed,
Called to the sun-faced damsel from the pit,
And said: “Where didst thou get the food, my love!
That thou hast speeded thus? How much of toil
And hardship hath befallen thee, and all
On mine account, my love and succourer!”
Manízha answered: “From a caravan.
A merchantman—a man possessed of wealth—
Came hither from Írán in search of gain,
With merchandise of all kinds great and small—
A holy man of Grace and understanding,
Who bringeth many jewels of all sorts.
He is a man of might and open heart,
And hath put up a booth before his house;
He gave to me the cloth just as it is:
‘Pray for me to the Maker,’ were his words.
‘Go to the dungeon to the man in bonds,
And take from time to time what he may need.’”
Bízhan with hope amid his fears unrolled
The good bread, in perplexity began
To eat, observed the ring, and read the name,
Then burst out laughing in his joy and wonder.
It was a turquoise ring with “Rustam” graven
Fine as a hair thereon. Bízhan beholding
The fruit upon the tree of faithfulness,
And wotting that the key to loose his sorrow
Had come, laughed out and that right royally,
So that the sound was heard outside the pit.
Manízha marvelled when she heard him laugh
From that dark dungeon fettered as he was,
And said: “The mad will laugh at their own acts!”
She paused in sheer amazement, then she said:—
Why laugh, for thou discern'st not night from day?
What is the mystery? Reveal it! Tell me!
Doth better fortune show thee countenance?”
Bízhan replied to her: “I am in hope
That fortune will undo this grievous coil.
Now if with me thou wilt not break thy faith,
And make a covenant with me by oath,
I will reveal the matter every whit,
For ‘though for fear of harm one go about
To sew up women's lips the words will out.’”
Manízha hearing this wept bitterly:—
“What hath malicious fortune brought,” she said,
“Upon me? Woe is me! My day is done,
My heart is stricken, and mine eyes o'erflow!
I gave Bízhan my heart and home and wealth,
And now he treateth me with such distrust!
My father and my kin abandoned me,
I run about unveiled before the folk,
I gave withal my treasures up to spoil,
My crown, dínárs, and jewels, every whit.
I did hope in Bízhan but hope no more.
My world is darkened and mine eyes are dim,
For he concealeth secrets thus from me,
But Thou dost know me better, O my God!”
Bízhan replied: “'Tis true. Thou hast lost all
For me, and I,” he added, “needs must tell thee,
O my belovéd mate and prudent comrade!
'Tis fit thou counsel me in all, my brain
Is void through suffering, so know that he—
The jewel-merchant, he whose cook provided
The dainty meal for thee—came to Túrán
On mine account, for else he had no need
Of gems. The Maker pitied me, and I
Perchance shall see earth's broad expanse. This man
Will free me from these longsome griefs and thee
From plodding to and fro in heat and anguish.
Do thou draw near and say to him in private:—
‘O thou the paladin of this world's Kaians,
Inform me if thou art the lord of Rakhsh?’”
Manízha left the forest like the wind,
And gave the message. Rustam hearing her,
Who from afar had come to him for help,
Knew that Bízhan had made the secret known
To that slim Cypress with the rosy cheeks.
He pitied her and said: “My Fair! may God
Ne'er take away from thee Bízhan's devotion.
What toils must thou have borne these many days
That thou hast grown so woe-begone with care!
Tell him: ‘Yea! God who heareth cries for help
Hath given unto thee the lord of Rakhsh,
Who from Zábul Íránward, from Írán
Túránward, trod the weary way for thee.’
When thou hast said this keep the matter secret,
And give good ear at night to any sound.
Collect dry fuel from the wood to-day
And, when night cometh, set the pile ablaze
To guide me to the opening of the pit.”342
Manízha, joyful at the words and freed
From trouble, hastened to the mountain-top,
Where in the pit her lover was confined,
And said: “I have repeated all thy message
To that illustrious, glorious one whose steps
Are blessed. He answered: ‘I indeed am he,
Whose name and sign are asked for by Bízhan.
O thou who goest with a heart so seared,
And washest both thy cheeks with tears of blood!
Say: “We are dappled like a pard with galls
On hands and girdlestead on thine account,
And now that we have certain news of thee
Thou shalt behold our deadly falchion's point,
Now will I rend the earth beneath my grasp,
And fling that seated boulder to the sky.”’
He said to me: ‘As soon as heaven is dark,
And night freed from the clutches of the sun,
Set thou a fire, as 'twere a mount, ablaze,
And make it bright as day about the pit,
Bízhan rejoiced,
Although a prisoner still, and, looking up
To Him, the Almighty Maker of the world,
Said: “O compassionate and holy Judge!
Thou art my Helper out of every ill.
Pierce with Thy shaft my foeman's heart and
soul.
Now do me right on him that did the wrong:
Thou knowest all my sorrows, pain, and grief.
Perchance I may regain my native land,
And leave behind me this malignant star!
And thou, my toil-worn mate, thou who hast made
Life, body, heart, and goods a sacrifice
For me, and in thy toil on my behalf
Hast counted every trouble as a joy,
Hast given up the crown and throne and girdle,
Thy parents and thy kindred and thy treasure!
If I do but escape this Dragon's clutch,
While I am still within the time of youth,
I, like the devotees who worship God,
Will run toward thee with mine arms outstretched,
And, like a servitor before a king,
Gird up my loins to make thee fair return.
Bear yet this toil, thy guerdon shall be great
In goods and treasure.”
Bird-like to the boughs
She flew for wood, with arms full watched the sun,
And thought: “Oh! when will night rise o'er the
hills?”
When Sol had vanished and dark night had led
Its army o'er the mountain-tops what time
The world, its features hidden, taketh rest,
Manízha went and set a-blaze a fire,
That scorched the eye of pitch-black night, and listened
To hear the clanging of the kettledrum
Which told that Rakhsh the brazen-hoofed had come.
With prayers for succour and support to Him,
Who is the Lord of sun and moon, and said:—
“Oh! may the eyes of evil men be blinded,
And may I have the strength to save Bízhan.”
At his command the warriors girt themselves
With girdles of revenge, put on their steeds
The poplar saddles, and prepared for combat;
Then matchless Rustam led them toward the fire.
When he approached the boulder of Akwán,
Approached that pit of sorrow, smart, and anguish,
“Dismount,” he told the seven warriors,
“And strive to clear the pit's mouth of the stone.”
They strove in vain and sorely galled their hands.
Now while their sweat ran, for the stone stood still,
The lion-chief alighted, hitched his skirt
Of mail beneath his belt and, asking strength
From God its source, grasped, raised, and hurled the
boulder
Back to the forest of the land of Chín:
Earth shook thereat. Then asked he of Bízhan
With lamentable cries: “How camest thou
To such a luckless plight? Thy portion here
Was wont to be all sweetness; why hast thou
Received then from the world a cup of poison?”
Bízhan replied: “How fared the paladin
Upon the way? Thy greeting reached mine ear,
And this world's poison was made sweet to me.
Mine earth is iron and my heaven stone,
While through exceeding anguish, hardship, sorrow,
And toil I have renounced this Wayside Inn.”
Said Rustam: “God had pity on thy life,
And now, O man wise and magnanimous!
There is one thing that I desire of thee:
Grant pardon to Gurgín son of Mílád
For my sake, putting from thee hate and malice.”
He answered: “O my friend! how shouldst thou
know
What conflicts have been mine? And know'st thou not,
O noble lion-man! that which Gurgín
Hath done to me? If I behold him ever
My vengeance shall bring Doomsday down on him.”
“If thou show'st malice and wilt not attend
To what I say,” said Rustam, “I will leave thee
Bound in the pit, and mount, and hie me home.”
When Rustam's answer reached the captive's ear
A wail went up from that strait prison-house
As he replied: “The wretchedest am I
Of warriors, of my kindred, and my people!
I must put up to-day too with the wrong—
The great wrong—which Gurgín hath done to me!
Yea I will do so and will be content;
My heart shall rest from taking vengeance on him.”
Then Rustam let his lasso down the pit,
And drew up thus Bízhan with fettered feet,
With naked body, with long hair and nails,
And wasted by affliction, pain, and want,
His form blood-boltered, and his visage wan
By reason of those bonds and rusty fetters.
Now Rustam cried aloud when he beheld
Bízhan with body hidden by the iron,
And putting forth his hands he snapped the chains
And bonds, and freed Bízhan from ring and fetter.
They went toward Rustam's house; on one side of him
Bízhan rode, on the other side Manízha.
And told their story to the paladin.
Then Rustam bade them bathe the young man's head,
And clothed him in new robes. When afterward
Gurgín approached and, prone upon the dust,
Sought to excuse his evil deeds, and writhed
For words so ill-advised, Bízhan condoned
The matter. Then they loaded up the camels,
And put the saddles on the steeds, while Rustam
Assumed his favourite mail and mounted Rakhsh.
The warriors drew forth their scimitars
And massive maces, sent the baggage on,
And dight themselves for strife. Ashkash the shrewd—
The army's Ear—went with the baggage-train.
Then matchless Rustam bade Bízhan: “Away,
And journey with Manízha and Ashkash,
For in my vengeance on Afrásiyáb
To-night I shall not eat, repose, or sleep.
Now will I do such exploits at his gate
That on the morn his troops shall laugh at him.
Thou hast endured enough with bonds and pit,
And shouldst not share the fight.”
Bízhan said: “Nay,
I lead since ye for me renew the fray.”
The seven warriors set forth with Rustam.
With bridles on their saddle-bows they drew
The sword of vengeance. While all slept within
He reached the court-gate of Afrásiyáb,
And, breaking with his hands both bolt and bar,
Fierce as a lion flung himself inside.
In every quarter sounds of tumult rose,
Swords glittered, arrows rained, the chieftains' heads
Were all struck off, their hands were filled with dust,
Their mouths with blood, while Rustam in the porch
Cried: “May sweet sleep distaste thee! For thy bed
Thou hadst a throne, Bízhan had but a pit.
Didst see an iron wall between us? I
Am Rustam of Zábul, the son of Zál,
And 'tis no season this for sleep and couching.
I have burst through thy prison, door and bar,
Where that huge boulder stood on guard for thee.
Bízhan is free both head and foot from bonds:
Let no one thus maltreat a son-in-law!
Of fighting and revenge for Siyáwush,
And dust from Rakhsh's feet upon the plain,
Thou hadst enough yet fain wouldst slay Bízhan!
I know thy wicked heart and drowsy head.”
Bízhan too cried: “Dense and malignant Turkman!
Bethink thee of yon throne, thy glorious seat,
And me withal that stood in chains before thee.
I challenged combat leopard-like, but thou
Didst bind my hands together firm as rock.
Now see me free upon the plain—a man
Whom savage lions will not seek to fight.”
My warriors? Cut off these men's retreat,
All ye who seek a signet or a crown!”
On all sides was the sound of hurried steps,
The bloodshed made a river at the gate,
And when a soldier of Túrán appeared
His place was void forthwith, The Íránians
Came seeking vengeance, but Afrásiyáb
Escaped by flight. The lord of Rakhsh rode in
Upon the carpets of brocade. The warriors
Took the fair slaves who caught them by the hand,
Took too the noble steeds with poplar saddles,
Whose flaps of pard-skin were beset with gems,
Then left the royal palace, packed the baggage,
And stayed not in Túrán but hastened on
To save the booty and avoid mishap.
So spent was Rustam that he scarce endured
His helmet, while the horses and their riders
Had no pulse left. He sent to bid the host:—
“Unsheathe your vengeful scimitars; no doubt
The earth will be bedimmed by horses' hoofs,
Because Afrásiyáb will gather him
A mighty host whose spears will veil the sun.”
They marched along, those warlike cavaliers,
All ready for the fray, with sharpened lances
And reins well gathered in. A scout ascended
The look-out and from far surveyed the route
Whereby the Turkman cavaliers would come.
Manízha then was sitting in her tent;
Before her were her handmaids and her guide,
“If musk be poured away the scent will stay.”
Such is the fashion of this Wayside Inn,
Whiles sweets and smiles, whiles travail and chagrin!
When Sol rose o'er the hills the Turkman horsemen
Prepared to march. The city was astir,
And, thou hadst said, a deafening clamour rose.
Before the court-gate of Afrásiyáb
The troops formed rank, the great men loosed their
loins,
And bowed their heads in dust before the king,
Exclaiming: “Things with us have passed all bounds!
What must be done? This business of Bízhan
Will be a lasting stigma, the Íránians
Will call us men no more, but women armed.”
Thereat Afrásiyáb raged like a pard,
And bade them fight for shame. He bade Pírán
To bind the tymbals on, and thus he said:—
“This flouting from Írán is over-much!”
The brass blared at the court-gate of the king,
The troops were all in motion in Túrán,
The warriors ranked themselves before the palace,
Arose the din of trump and Indian bell,
And to the frontier from Túrán a host
Marched that left earth no surface save the sea.
Now when the Íránian watchman from the look-out
And said: “Make ready, for the world is black
With dust of horsemen!”
Rustam made reply:—
“We fear not, we will strew it on their hands.”
He left Manízha with the baggage, donned
His battle-mail, went to a height, observed
The foe, and roared out like a savage lion.
That gallant horseman spake a proverb, saying:—
“What doth a fox weigh in a lion's claws?”
Then to his valiant warriors he shouted:—
“The wage of war confronteth us to-day.
Where are the swords and iron-piercing darts?
Where are the ox-head maces and the spears?
Now is the season to display your prowess,
And rank yourselves upon the battlefield.”
Anon arose a sound of clarions,
While matchless Rustam mounted Rakhsh and led
His army plainward from the heights what time
The foe was seen approaching.350
Both the hosts
Deployed upon that broad expanse and formed
Two camps empanoplied. Then Rustam chose
His battle-ground, whereat the world grew black
With horse-raised dust. Ashkash and Gustaham
Were on the right with many cavaliers,
Upon the left were Zanga and Ruhhám.
All rose superior to that conflict. Rustam,
The warriors' warden and the host's support,
Was at the centre with Bízhan the son
Of Gív. Behind the host was Mount Bístún,
In front a citadel of scimitars.
Afrásiyáb, when he beheld that host,
With Rustam who was seen commanding it,
In dudgeon donned his armour for the battle,
And bade his troops to halt. He drew them up
In due array against the foe. The earth
Was hidden and the air like indigo.
The left wing he intrusted to Pírán,
While brave Húmán departed to the right;
The centre he consigned to Garsíwaz
And Shída; he himself o'erlooked the whole.
The matchless Rustam went about the host,
And seemed a sable mountain in his mail.
To province, crown, and throne! thou hast no heart
To fight like cavaliers, yet shamest not
Before thy warriors, but assailest us,
And coverest the earth with men and steeds,
Though when the armies grapple I shall see
Thy back toward the fight. Hast thou not heard
Those sayings of old times which Zál repeateth:—
‘No lion is affrighted at a plain
Of onagers; stars ape the sun in vain;
The lusty mountain-sheep if it shall hear
A wolf's claws named will shiver, heart and ear;
No fox is daring, try he e'er so much,
No onagers the lion's claws will touch’?
Be never king as light of wit as thou,
Or he will give his kingdom to the winds.
Upon this plain thou shalt not get away
Alive and scathless from my hands to-day.”
As soon as that grim Turkman heard the words
He shook, drew one quick breath, then cried in fury:—
“O warriors of Túrán! are we engaged
In banquet, feast, or battle on this field?
Ye must endure hard toil in this emprise,
For I will give you treasure in return.”
They shouted when they heard the monarch's words;
The sun so gloomed with dust that thou hadst said:—
“Earth is submerged!” Upon the elephants
The drums were beaten, horns and trumpets blown.
Of iron on the battlefield. The plain
Shook and the hills re-echoed with the shouts
Raised by the cavaliers upon both sides;
The trenchant swords flashed mid the clouds of dust;
Thou wouldst have said: “The Day of Doom hath
come!”
Steel sparths descended like a storm of hail
Upon the coats of mail, the helms, and casques,
While at the gleam of Rustam's dragon-flag
The bright sun's face grew azure-dim; he veiled
The air with arrows, “Smearing,” thou hadst said,
“The sun with pitch.” Where'er he urged on Rakhsh
He trampled on the heads of cavaliers.
Grasped in his hand he bore an ox-head mace,
And seemed a dromedary broken loose.
He came forth from the centre like a wolf,
And scattered all the foemen's vast array.
Then horsemen's heads were shed as leaves are shed
Before the blast, and fortune left the Turkmans.
Swift as the wind Ashkash upon the right
Sought to engage the swordsman Garsíwaz,
Gúrgín, Farhád, and brave Ruhhám o'erthrew
The left wing of the monarch of Túrán,
While in the centre dexterous Bízhan
Esteemed the battlefield a banquet-hall.
Blood flowed in streams, the Turkman monarch's
standard
The warriors of Túrán all slain, so flung
His Indian scimitar away and, mounting
A fresh steed, fled attended by his nobles
Toward Túrán, balked of revenge, and followed
By lion-taking Rustam, who rained mace
And arrow on the enemy, and blasted
For two leagues, thou hadst said, like dragon grim
The warriors. A thousand cavaliers
Were captured. Rustam then returned to camp
In order that he might divide the spoil,
And, when the elephants were loaded, he
Marched back to Kai Khusrau victoriously.
When tidings reached the gallant Sháh: “The Lion
Hath come back from the Wood victorious;
Bízhan is free from prison and from bonds,
And from the clutches of his dragon-foe;
The army of Túrán is overthrown,
The foe's whole purpose foiled,” he went rejoicing,
And fell upon his face, before the Maker.
Whenas Gúdarz and Gív received the news
They hasted to the conquering Sháh. A shout
Went up, troops mustered, and the tymbal-players
Set forth, the trumpet sounded at the gate,
The soldiers shouted. All the riding-ground
Was black with chargers' hoofs, the kettledrums
Roared through the city, horsemen proudly pranced,
And mighty elephants tusked up the earth.
Before the army went the drums and horns,
Gúdarz and Tús came after with the standard.
Upon one side were pards and lions chained,
Upon the other were brave cavaliers.
The troops to go to meet their paladin.
They set forth on their journey troop on troop;
The earth was mountain-like with warriors.
When they distinguished Rustam from the rest,
Gúdarz and Gív alighted, as did all
The other mighty men and Rustam also,
To whom both young and old did reverence.
Gúdarz and Gív saluted him and said:—
“O thou illustrious and valiant chief!
May God be thy protection now and ever,
May sun and moon both circle to thy wish.
Of thee the lion learneth to be bold,
Of thee may heaven weary nevermore!
Thou hast made all our kindred slaves to thee
Through whom we have recovered our lost son.
Thou hast delivered us from pain and grief,
And made us all thy servants in Írán.”
The chiefs remounted and approached in pomp
The palace of the monarch of the world,
And, when that chief—the refuge of the host—
Drew near the city of the king of kings,
The Sháh himself,—the warden of the troops
And crown of chiefs—went out to welcome him.
When Rustam by the pomp knew that the Sháh
Had come, he lighted and did homage, grieved
That Kai Khusrau had come so far. The world-lord
Took Rustam in a close embrace and said:—
“Thou Stay of chieftains and thou Soul of honour!
As glorious as the sun are all thy gests,
And thine achievements broadcast through the world.”
Then quickly taking by the hand Bízhan,
Who was abashed before his Sháh and sire,354
Rose to his feet, and made the bent back straight.
Thereafter he delivered to the Sháh
A thousand captives from Túrán in bonds.
The monarch blessed him lovingly and said:—
“May heaven ever favour thy desires,
May thy hand flourish, may thy heart rejoice,
And thy pure body 'scape all hurt from foes.
How blest is Zál, who will bequeath the world
A Memory like thee! Blest is Zábul,
Whose milk hath nourished such undaunted heroes.
Blest is Írán, blest are its warriors,
Possessing such a paladin as thee;
Yet is my fortune higher than them all
In having such a servant of my throne.
Thou art Írán's crown and the chieftains' stay,
And lacking thee I care not for the world.”
Then said the monarch of the world to Gív:—
“The Almighty's purposes toward thee are good,
Who hath restored to thee by Rustam's hand
Thy son, thy well belovéd, and in triumph.”
Gív blessed the Sháh and said: “Live and rejoice
As long as time shall be, may thy head flourish
Through Rustam ever, and may he possess
The heart of glorious Zál with happiness.”