Húm, after having bound the monarch's arms,
Bore him from his retreat. Afrásiyáb
Exclaimed: “O pious man, thou devotee,
Who knowest holy God! what wouldest thou
With me—a monarch of the world although
I live concealed in this unfathomed cave?”
Húm said: “For thee it is no resting-place.
Thou art reported through the world as one
Oppugnant to the fear of holy God,
Who slew midst kings his brother Ighríras,
Illustrious Naudar, and Siyáwush,
That heirloom of the Kaians. Shed not thou
Unfathomed.”
“Man of might!” the king replied,
“Whom knowest thou in this world free from fault?
Such was the process of high heaven above me
That I have brought forth travail, loss, and anguish;
Though one may catch a lion by the neck
He cannot thwart the purposes of God.
Oh! pity me who am in hopeless plight,
And am, however much I be a tyrant,
The grandson of the glorious Farídún!
Oh! free me from thy lasso's bondage! Whither
Wouldst bear me vilely bound? Hast thou no fear
Of God upon the Day of Reckoning?”
Húm said: “Malignant one! good sooth, thy days
Are few, thy words as weeds within a garden:
Thy fate is in the hands of Kai Khusrau.”
Albeit Húm was sorry for the wretch,
And loosed for him the royal lasso's coils,
While he, on finding that the holy man
Felt pity for a king's bewailings, writhed,
And wrenched his body from his captor's clutch,
Then plunged into the lake262a
and disappeared!
It happened that Gúdarz, son of Kishwád,
Was on his way with Gív and other nobles
In state with expedition to the Sháh,
And gazing from a distance at the lake
Observed Húm with the lasso in his hand
Disconsolately wandering on the shore,
Saw too the water troubled and, observing
The sorry looks of Húm, said in his heart:—
“This holy man is fishing on the bank.
Perchance his net hath caught a crocodile,
And he is in amazement at the sight.”
He spake to Húm and said: “O holy man!
What is thine object? Make it known to us!
That dusky form of thine?”
Húm answered him:—
“O noble man! consider what hath chanced:
I have my dwelling on yon mountain's top
Afar from men and 'tis mine oratory.
I passed the night, the livelong night, in prayer
Till at the hour when birds begin to sing
A sound of lamentation reached mine ears,
And thus I thought in my shrewd heart: ‘Now I
Will rase the root of vengeance from the world.
This bitter wailing in the hours of slumber
Can be from no one but Afrásiyáb.’
I rose, searched all the mountain and the caverns,
And saw in one the famous man himself;
That luckless one was lying in the cave,
Lamenting bitterly o'er crown and throne.
He sprang up at mine entry from his place,
And gained a footing on the flinty floor,
Yet bound I with my girdle both his hands
Firm as a rock, so that they dripped with blood,
And brought him from the mountain in all haste,
What while he wailed and shrieked as women do.
Moved by his great and lamentable cries
And promises, I somewhat loosed his bonds.
Then on this very spot he slipped my grasp,
And pierced my heart and soul by his escape.
He vanished in these waters of Khanjast.264
Gúdarz, when he had heard the whole account,
Recalled to mind a legend of old times,
And full of thought went to the Fane of Fire,
Just like a man o'crwrought, and there began
To pray before the Fire, and offer thanks
To Him who made the world; then told the Sháhs
The secret and the things that he had witnessed,
Whereat they mounted on their steeds again,
And full of joy departed from the Fane.
Went instantly to Húm who, when he saw
The crowned heads of the two Sháhs, offered them
The reverence that was due, while they invoked
God's blessing on him. Then said Sháh Káús:—
“Thanks be to God in whom our refuge is
That I have seen the face of this good man,
This man of knowledge, power, and mastery.”
Húm answered: “Through thy justice may the land
Be prosperous, may the days of this young Sháh
Be bright, and thy foes' hearts be rooted out.
I offered prayer upon this mountain-top,
What time the Sháh was passing to Gang-dizh,
That He who made the world would prosper earth
Through him. When he returned I laughed for joy,
And sought God's presence, offering my praises.
At night-time suddenly the blest Surúsh
Made that which had been secret known to me:
A cry went up from yon unfathomed cave;
I heard it and attended to the voice.
One bitterly lamented ivory throne,
Realm, army, state, and crown. Down from the peak
To that strait cave I came and grasped a lasso—
My girdle. I beheld the head and ears
Of him that sojourned there—Afrásiyáb.
I used my lasso as a cord and tied him
Firm as a rock, then haled him forth all helpless.
He bitterly complained of those tight knots,
And said in anguish: ‘O beloved of fortune!
Relax for me the tightness of these bonds.’
But when I did so he escaped my grasp,
Plunged, and is hidden in the water there!
We must cut off his foothold from the world.
His blood will stir with love for Garsíwaz
What time the exalted Sháh shall give command
To bring that brother with his feet in fetters,
And sew him to the neck in raw ox-hide,
Depriving him of power to help himself.
Afrásiyáb, when he shall hear the voice
Of Garsíwaz, will come forth from the lake.”
The Sháh bade those who mounted guard that day
To go with swords and bucklers of Gílán,
And fetch the miserable Garsíwaz—
The cause of all the trouble in the land.
The monarch bade the executioner:—
“Drag him along and show him no respect.”
They put him in an ox-hide to the neck
So that he could not stir. His skin burst on him,
He begged for mercy, and asked God for aid.
Afrásiyáb, whenas he heard that voice,
Rose quickly to the surface of the lake,
And swimming onward with his hands and feet
Came to a spot that was within his depth,
And listening to his brother's cries on shore
Saw what was worse to him than death itself.
When Garsíwaz beheld him in the water,
With eyes fulfilled with blood and troubled heart,
He cried and said: “O monarch of the world,
The head of nobles and the crown of chiefs!
Where are thy customs, state, and policy?
Where are thy head and treasure, crown and host?
Where all thy knowledge and thy might of hand?
Where are the mighty men that were thy lieges?
Where are thy glory and thy fame in war?
Where are thy joys in goblet and in feast
And such ill fortune hath befallen thee?”
Afrásiyáb thereat shed tears of blood,
And answered: “I have roamed the world at large
Both publicly and privily withal
If haply I might 'scape mine evil lot,
But ill and worse than ill befalleth me!
Now is my life grown loathsome and my soul
Fulfilled with anguish for thy sake that one
Sprung from Pashang and Farídún erewhile
Thus should be netted by the Crocodile!”
While these two princes were exchanging words
The mind of Húm, the devotee, devised
A scheme; he went upon a spit of land,
And, when he saw Afrásiyáb anear,
Undid the royal lasso from his waist,
And came on stalking like a savage lion,
Then flung the lasso that was ready coiled,
And took the monarch's head within the noose.
Húm dragged him forth in miserable plight,
And loathing life itself, from lake to land,
Resigned him to the Sháhs and went his way;
Thou wouldst have said: “He and the wind are mates!”
The world-lord with a trenchant sword approached,
His head all vengeance and his heart all wrath,
And thus Afrásiyáb, the insensate, spake:—
“This is the very day whereof I dreamed!267
The sky hath long turned o'er me, and it now
Hath rent the veil that hid its purposes.
“Why dost thou wish to slay thy grandsire? Speak!”
“O evil-doer,” answered Kai Khusrau,
“Well worthy of reproach and infamy!
First I allege the murder of thy brother,
Who never sought to injure noble men;267a
Next of Naudar, that famous sovereign—
That world-lord and memorial of Íraj—
Whose neck thou clav'st with thy sharp scimitar,
And brought'st a Day of Doom upon the world;267b
And thirdly that of Siyáwush, like whom
None seeth any horseman to recall him,
Whose head thou didst cut off as 'twere a sheep's,267c
And didst exalt thyself above high heaven.
How was it possible to slay my sire
And not expect an evil day like this?
Thou wast in haste to work iniquity,
And hast for ill a recompense of ill.”
He said: “O Sháh! that which hath been hath been,
I cannot choose but listen to thy words;
Yet suffer me to see thy mother's face,
And then speak on.”
But Kai Khusrau replied:—
“Instead of asking for my mother, think
What evil thou hast wrought upon my head!
My sire was guiltless; I was still unborn;
Yet was thine evil rampant in the world!
Thou didst behead a king for whom the crown
And throne of ivory wept bitterly;
Now is the day when God will recompense;
He payeth ill with ill.”
With Indian sword
He smote Afrásiyáb upon the neck,
Then flung upon the dust the swarthy form,
While Garsíwaz his brother lost all hope;
Afrásiyáb's imperial throne was void;
The day of his good fortune reached its close;
Ill came on him for ill. Seek not, my son,
A key whereby ill's bonds may be undone.
Why shouldest thou? Thou knowest that from ill
Ill will befall the evil-doers still?
A king possessed of Grace divine will vent
His wrath in bonds and in imprisonment,
For if he sheddeth blood his life will be
Forlorn, high heaven exact the penalty.
To fierce Bahrám thus said an archimage:—
“Shed not the blood of guiltless heads. If thou
Wouldst keep that crown of thine upon thy brow
Be clement, let good thoughts thy mind engage.
Consider what the crown said to the head:—
‘O head! in thee let brains and wisdom wed.’”
The cheeks of Garsíwaz were wan, his heart
Was full of trouble for Afrásiyáb.
They dragged him from the jailors shamefully
In heavy bonds, on that his evil day,
Begirt with guards and executioners
As such a noted miscreant deserved.
When in sad plight he came before Khusrau,
With tears of blood upon his livid cheeks,
The Sháh, the king of kings, set loose his tongue,
Discoursing of the dagger and the bowl,
Of Túr, the son of Farídún, fierce Salm,
And of Íraj, that most illustrious prince;
Then called an executioner who came
With trenchant sword unsheathed, and cruel heart,
And clave the chief asunder at the waist
While all the soldiers' hearts were terror-stricken.
They flung those two like mountains side by side
While folk stood round beholding far and wide.
His whole desire from God, the Sháh departed
Toward the temple of Ázargashasp.269
He and his grandsire offered to the Fire
Much gold and murmured many a benison.
One day and night they stood before the Judge
Of all the world, the Guide, and when Zarasp,
The treasurer of Kai Khusrau, had come
He gave Ázargashasp a treasure, clad
In robes of honour all those archimages,
And lavished drachms, dínárs, and precious things.
Within the city to the mendicants,
And those who earned their living by their toil,
The Sháh gave wealth as well, and made the world
Alive by justice and munificence,
Then took his seat upon the Kaian throne,
Undid the audience-door and shut his lips.
They wrote dispatches to the provinces,
To every man of name and every chief;
From west to east went letters to each place
Wherein there was a chieftain known to fame:—
“The scimitar of Kai Khusrau hath freed
Earth's surface from the evil of the Dragon;
Hath neither rested nor relaxed his girdle;
The soul of Siyáwush hath gained new life
In him, the world's whole surface is his slave.”
The Sháh bestowed much wealth upon the poor,
Upon the devotees, and his own kin,
Then said: “Ye men of name, illustrious lords!
Bring from the city wife and little ones,
With minstrels and provisions to the plain.”
Therewith he gave himself to minstrelsy.
Then all the nobles of the royal seed,
And all the kindred of Zarasp withal,
Went to the temple of Ázargashasp,
And there spent forty days with Kai Káús,
With minstrels, harp, and wine. When the new moon
Shone like a gold crown on a young king's head,
The mighty men betook themselves to Párs
To rest from war and strife. In every city
Along the road men gathered round the throne,
Meanwhile the Sháh oped treasure-bags till all
The folk grew rich, except the prodigal.
Káús, assured of peace of mind, declared
The secrets of his heart to God: “O Thou
Above all fortune and the Guide to good!
I had from Thee Grace, state, and majesty,
With fortune, valour, throne, and diadem;
None else, as Thou hast me, hast Thou endowed
With treasure, throne, and an exalted name.
I asked of Thee that some illustrious man
Might gird his loins in wreak for Siyáwush,
And saw my grandson, who is mine own Eye,
Achieve at once my vengeance and his own.
This atheling surpasseth other kings
In wisdom, Grace, and height. Since fifty years
Like camphor, and the graceful Cypress bowoth,
I take it not amiss that life should cease.”
But little time elapsed and then his name
Remained as his memorial in the world.
Khusrau, the worldlord, left his throne and sat
Upon the grimy dust. The Íránian nobles
Went in funereal robes of blue and black,
Without bright colours or perfumes, afoot,
And spent two sennights mourning for the Sháh.
They built a lofty hall ten lassos high
To be the mausoleum of Káús;
This done, the royal officers brought out
The finest lawn with black brocade of Rúm,
And, having poured upon them aloes, musk,
And camphor, wrapped the shrivelled corpse therein.
They set him on a throne of ivory,
Placed on his head a crown of musk and camphor,
And when Khusrau had turned and left the throne
They locked the portal of the place of sleep,
And no man looked on Kai Káús again:
He rested from revenge and battlefield.
Such is the fashion of this Wayside Inn!
Thou wilt not tarry here in toil for ever.
The man of lore, the mailèd paladin,
Obtain remission from Death's clutches never;
Be we Zarduhsht himself, or be we king,
Brick is our pillow, dust our cushioning.
Be merry then, ensue what pleasureth thee,
And afterward, when thou hast made that sure,
Seek fame, but know this world thine enemy,
The earth thy bed, the grave thy garniture.
The Sháh bewailed his grandsire forty days,
Refraining from all pleasure, crown, and state.
The next day on the ivory throne he donned
The heart-illuming crown. The troops assembled
At court, the chiefs and magnates helmed with gold
There was a festival throughout the world
Because he sat victorious on the throne,
And thus, till sixty years had passed away,
The whole world was obedient to his sway.272
About God's dealings and his own high state:
He said: “From Hind and Chín to Rúm each place
Is prosperous; withal, from west to east,
Mount, desert, land, and sea have I made void
Of foes; the rule and throne of might are mine;
The world no longer dreadeth enemies.
Full many a day hath passed above my head,
And I have gained from God my full desire,
Besides the vengeance that I had at heart,
Yet let me not grow arrogant of soul,
Corrupt in thought, an Áhriman in faith,
And be an evil-doer like Zahhák,
Jamshíd, or such an one as Túr or Salm.
Sprung from Káús on one side, on the other
Sprung from Túrán—all rancour and vainglory—
I, like Káús and like Afrásiyáb,
That warlock froward even in his dreams,
May grow an ingrate unawares to God,
And fray mine own pure soul. His Grace will quit me,
I shall incline to falsehood and unwisdom,
And when I pass within the gloom, and when
My head and diadem shall come to dust,
I shall but leave a bad name in the world,
And make an evil ending in God's sight.
This face of mine, this colour of my cheeks
Will fade, my bones be clad in dust, and all
Accomplishment be lost. Ingratitude
Will come instead, and in the other world
My soul be dark. Another will assume
My crown and throne, and tread my fortune down.
A bad name will be my memorial;
The roses of mine ancient toils will turn
And have adorned the world with goodliness,
Have slain who should be slain, because they were
Perverse and hostile to all holy God,
No place remaineth—settlement or desert—
That hath not read the legend on my sword;
While all the mighty of the world obey me
Albeit they be monarchs throned and crowned.
Thanks be to God who gave to me the Grace,
With feet and wings amid the change of fortune.
And now I deem it better to depart
To God in all my glory, and perchance
The Almighty's messenger may, though unseen,
And while I still am flourishing, convey
My spirit to the dwelling of the just,
Because this Kaian crown and throne will pass.
None will excel me in success and fame,
In greatness, welfare, peace, and revelry,
For I have heard and witnessed this world's secrets,
Its good and ill both privy and apert;
But still for husbandman and king alike
There is a common end—the way to death.”
The Sháh gave orders to the chamberlain
On duty: “Whoso cometh to the court
Refuse admittance to him with fair words,
Be courteous to him and refrain from harshness.”
Thus saying he departed to the pleasance
With lamentations and with loins ungirt,
Bathed, ere he prayed, his body and his head,
And sought by wisdom's lamp the way of God,
Then donned a new white robe and all devout
With heart of hope paced toward the oratory,
There prayed in secret to the holy Judge,
And said: “O higher than pure soul, the Maker
Of fire, of air, and dust! behold and grant me
Much wisdom, and to know both good and ill.
I will give praises to Thee while I live,
And strive to better what I have done well.
Forgive whatever I have done amiss;
Let me not use my power frowardly;
And all the machinations of the Dív,
So that unlike Káús, Zahhák, Jamshíd,
I may not yield to passion's tyranny;
And if he shut on me the door of virtue,
And fraud and guile grow strong, let not his power
Avail to the destruction of my soul,
But bear it to the mansions of the just.
Look down on me in answer to my prayer.”
He stood thus for a week both day and night
In body, but his spirit was afar.
Now when the sennight ended Kai Khusrau
Began to totter, for his strength had failed,
And with the eighth day's coming he had gone
From oratory back to royal throne.
The paladins of the Íránian host
All marvelled at the conduct of the Sháh,
And divers were those famous warriors' thoughts.
Now, when the illustrious Sháh resumed the state,
The chamberlain came to the door and bade
Remove the curtain and admit the host.
Then came with folded arms the mighty men—
The cavaliers and men of lion-looks—
Such men as Tús, Gúdarz, and gallant Gív,
Gurgín, Ruhhám the Lion, and Bízhan,
Shídúsh and Zanga, son of Sháwarán,
With Faríburz and Gustaham and others,
Who, having seen the Sháh and done obeisance,
Disclosed to him their secret thoughts and said:—
“O Sháh! O brave! O head! O cypress-tree!
O ruler of the world and chief of chiefs!
No Sháh like thee hath filled the ivory throne;
From thee both sun and moon derive their light,
To glorious Ázargashasp fresh lustre.
Not fearing travail, toying not with wealth,
Thou makest toils more numerous than treasures.
We paladins are all of us thy slaves,
Dependent for our lives on sight of thee,
Who hast trod all thine enemies to dust,
And in this world hast no one left to fear.
Thine are the troops and treasure of all realms:
Where'er thou settest foot thou labourest.
We know no reason why the monarch's thoughts
Have grown so gloomy at this present time;
This is thy season to enjoy the world,
Not to be sorrowful and fade away.
If now the Sháh is vexed by any fault
In us, so let him say that we may please him,
And fill our cheeks with blood, our hearts with fire;
Or if he tell us of some secret foe
All those that wear a royal crown themselves
Will pledge their thrones and crowns to take the head
Of that man off him, or to lose their own,
What time they don the helmet of the brave.
Let him inform us what the secret is,
And then devise with us.”
The noble Sháh
Replied: “O paladins, who seek the way!
I am not harassed in the world by foes,
My treasure is not squandered anywhere,
The army doth not trouble me at all,
Nor is there one in fault among yourselves.
When on his foemen I avenged my sire,
And decked the world with justice and the Faith,
No single foot of darksome earth was left
That had not read the inscription on my signet;
Return ye then your falchions to their scabbards,
And wield the goblet not the scimitar;
Instead of twanging bows make ready flutes
And harps with wine and colour and perfume,
For we have done what there was need to do,
And cleared the world of foes. For one whole week
Fulfilled with contemplation and good rede.
I have a secret longing which I ask
The Maker of the world to gratify,
And will declare it when He answereth,276
And by His answer maketh glad my days.
Do ye too offer praises unto God,
Entreating Him, who is the Source of power
For good and ill, to grant this boon and blessing:
Praise be to Him who hath revealed the way.
When this is done ensue all happiness,
And banish thoughts of evil from your hearts.
Know that the restless sky, discerning not
'Twixt fosterer and fostered, cherisheth
The old and young alike, and we are witness
Both to its justice and its tyranny.”
The paladins departed from the Sháh,
Their hearts distracted with their griefs. He bade
The chamberlain: “Sit down behind the curtain,
And let none, kin or alien, come to me.”
At night he went forth to the place of prayer,
Unclosed his lips before the almighty Judge,
And said to Him: “O higher than the height,
Thou who exaltest purity and goodness!
Vouchsafe to be my guide to Paradise
Or ever I shall quit this Wayside Inn;
May no perverseness turn my heart aside,
But let my soul among the blest abide.”
Now when a week had passed, and Kai Khusrau
Showed not his face, there rose much talk and clamour.
The paladins assembled to a man—
The lords, the sages, and the counsellors—
Such as Gúdarz and Tús, son of Naudar,
And there was much dispute of right and wrong,
About the ways of autocratic Sháhs—
Those that served God and those that did amiss—
And all narrated stories of the great,
The nobles and the sages of the world.
The servant ever of the crown and throne!
Thou didst sustain much travail for Írán,
Abandoning thy country and thy kindred.
A sorry matter now confronteth us—
One that we cannot hold of small account.
Thou needs must set forth for Zábulistán,
Dispatch a mounted courier to Kábul,
And say to Zál and Rustam: ‘Kai Khusrau
Hath turned himself from God and lost the way,
Hath closed the door of audience to the nobles,
And surely is in conclave with the Dív.
We have asked questions and have made excuses,
Appealing to his justice in the case;
He listened much but answered not; we see
His heart distraught, his head fulfilled with vapours,
And fear that he will grow, like Sháh Káús,
Perverse, and that the Dív will make him err.
Now ye are paladins more wise than we,
With greater influence in all affairs,
So whatsoever counsellors ye have—
Men of Kannúj, Dambar, and Margh and Mái,
Star-readers of Kábulistán and all
The sages of Zábul—bring to Írán
To treat this matter. All the realm is full
Of rumours since the Sháh denieth speech
And audience. Now that we have tried all means
We look to Zál to set the matter right.’”
Gív, hearing this, chose out some valiant men,
And went in dudgeon, brooding moodily,
Toward Sístán. Arrived he told to Zál
And Rustam those strange things that he had seen
And heard; to noble Zál he sadly said:—
“We have espoused much grief.” He said to Rustam:—
“Call from Kábul and summon from Zábul
The wise, the astrologers, and archimages
To bear us company.”
Toward Zál and they departed for Írán.
The worldlord stood seven days in prayer, but when
The world-illuming sun shone on the eighth
The audience-chamberlain removed the curtain,
And Kai Khusrau sat on the throne of gold.
Then all the paladins and archimages
Approached. A multitude of prudent nobles
And counsellors stood there before the worldlord,
Who looked on them, received them graciously,
And, as the Kaians used, assigned them seats;
But of those famous, loyal lieges none
Would take his seat or loose his folded arms;
They oped their lips and said: “O turning Heaven!
O worldlord full of justice, bright of soul!
Thine are the power and Grace of majesty;
From earth to sun and Fish all, all is thine.
We stand as slaves before thy presence, we
Thy paladins and faithful counsellors,
To ask why thou hast shut thy court to us.
Now time hath passed thus and our hearts are sore
And sad. If then the Sháh will tell this secret
To us his marchlords, who are all astray,
We will turn seas to land if they annoy him,
And change the robe of dust thereon to musk,
We will rase mountains if they be the cause,
And with our falchions cleave the hearts of foes,
While if the cure be wealth let not the Sháh
Be troubled in respect of cash and treasure;
We all keep watch upon thy treasury,
And full of anguish weep at thy distress.”
He made reply: “I need my paladins
Respecting mastery and men and treasure.
No foeman hath appeared within the realm
To cause me any care on his account;
But yet mine ardent heart hath one desire
That I will not uproot therefrom, and now
Throughout the dark night till the dawn of day
I wait the consummation of my hopes,
And when that cometh I will tell you all,
And utter what as yet I leave unsaid.
Go ye your ways victorious and glad,
Dismissing such thoughts from your memories.”
Then all the paladins, those noble men,
Called blessings down on him, and grieved again.
As soon as they had gone the wakeful Sháh
Gave orders to the chamberlain, who closed
The curtains and sat down beside the portal,
Despairing of victorious Kai Khusrau.
The worldlord went before the Lord most high,
Entreating Him that He would be his guide,
And said: “Almighty Ruler of the heaven,
Who kindlest goodness, charity, and justice!
This sovereignty advantageth me not
Unless I am in favour with my Lord;
But whether I have acted well or ill
Bestow on me a seat in Paradise.”
Thus stood he pleading for five sennights' space
Before the presence of the Lord most high.
One night the Sháh slept not for suffering
Until the moon had risen, then he slept
But with his mind awake—that spouse of wisdom—
And dreamed that blest Surúsh thus whispered him:—
“O Sháh, the favourite of the stars and fortune,
Who much hast handled armlet, crown, and throne!
Art instant in abandoning the world.
Near to the throne of God, the holy Judge,
Shalt thou have place; abide not in this gloom.
Bestow thy treasures on the worthiest,
And let another have the Wayside Inn.
Thou shalt grow rich by bounteously entreating
The mendicants and those of thine own kindred.
Know that the man who hath escaped the clutch
Of misadventure, or the dragon's breath—
Each that hath suffered travail for thy sake—
Endured the toil that he might win the spoil.
Give then thy havings to the worthiest,
Because thou wilt not tarry here for long,
And choose as ruler for the throne a man
That will not hurt an ant upon the ground.281
When thou hast given away the world rest not,
Because the season of dispatch hath come
To thee. Luhrásp hath fitting excellence;
Resign to him the kingship, throne, and girdle.
The place that thou hast sought from God is thine,
Ascend without death and depart thou thither.”
He spake much else in secret to the Sháh,
Who marvelled at the message and, what time
He wakened from his slumber, all fordone,
Saw that the oratory ran with sweat!
He wept and, with his face upon the ground,
Made his thanksgiving to the Omnipotent,
And said: “If I shall pass away forthwith
I shall attain from God my heart's desire.”
He went to occupy the ivory throne,
And carried in his hand a robe unworn,
And, having donned that raiment, sat him down,
A Sháh without an armlet, torque, or crown.
In discontentment and distress of heart.
The Íránians when they were advised thereof
Made haste, heart-broken too, to go to them.
When Rustam had appeared in sight with Zál,
Together with the prowest archimages,
All those who were the kinsmen of Zarasp
Urged on their steeds to go and welcome them,
While all the nobles with the golden boots
Advanced with Káwa's standard. When Gúdarz
Reached matchless Rustam tears ran down his cheeks;
The faces of the advancing troops were wan;
All hearts were seared and troubled for Khusrau.
The Íránians spake to Zál and Rustam thus:—
“The Sháh hath erred by counsel of Iblís.
The audience-chamber is completely thronged,
But none beholdeth him by night or day.
They ope the door of audience once a week,
And thither go we but, O paladin!
Quite other now is Kai Khusrau than when
Thou usedst to behold him bright and happy
Of soul. The straight-stemmed Cypress-tree is bent,
The red Rose hath the colour of the quince.
I know not that the evil eye hath seen him,
Or why his rosy face is withered so,
Unless the Íránians' fortune hath grown dim,
Or stars have brought on him this decadence;
Or whether 'tis the fear of holy God
That causeth in his heart such melancholy;
Or if the Dív hath made him err and wrecked
Once and for all the world.”
Brave Zál replied:—
“The Sháh hath grown aweary of the throne.
There are such things as health and suffering,
Distress and gladness too have each their time.
Have not your heart so greatly sorrowful,
For sorrow casteth down the blithest soul.
And by our counsel bring his star success.”
The wayfarers made haste to court. The curtain
Was drawn aside. They were admitted gladly
In order due—Zál, elephantine Rustam,
Tús and Gúdarz and all their company,
And then Gurgín, Bízhan, and Gustaham
With all the warriors of their retinue.
The king of kings, when he beheld Zál's face,
And heard the voice of Rustam at the curtain,
Rose to his feet in wonder from the throne,
And standing greeted Zál and clasped his hand.
As for the wise men from Zábul, Kannúj,
Dambar, and from Kábul, he greeted each,
And courteously entreated them, assigning
To each his place and to the Íránians
The highest. Zál did reverence and spake thus:—
“Live happily while month and year endure!
Of all the famous chiefs that we can call
To mind from Minúchihr to Kai Kubád,
As well as Zav, son of Tahmásp, Káús—
Great men and Sháhs whose steps were fortunate—
And Siyáwush, who was as mine own son,
Endowed with stature, dignity, and Grace,
None have I seen with Grace, renown, and wisdom
Such as the Sháh's, and may he reign for ever
Victorious, intrepid, just, and wise.
Thou hast pervaded all the world with justice,
And come again in triumph and in joy.
What king but is as dust beneath thy feet?
What bane for which thy name is not a cure?
Received have I some most unwelcome news,
And thereupon have made all haste to come.
Hath bid the audience-chamberlain to leave
The curtain down and hide our monarch from us.’
I like an eagle or a ship at sea
Have come in all haste, since the Íránians grieve,
That I might ask the monarch of the world
About the secret matter on his mind.
The readers of the stars, the mighty men
Whom I saw chief within their provinces,
Have come with Indian tablets from Kannúj,
Dambar, and Margh and Mái to ascertain
The secret of the sky, and why the Sháh
Withdraweth his affection from Írán.
Now all well-being resteth on three things,
With which the throne of royalty is safe;
The three are treasure, toil, and valiant men:
Without them glory, rule, and fight are not.
A fourth is that we offer praise to God,
And make our prayers before Him night and day,
Because He is His servant's succourer,
One who restraineth the injurious.
We will bestow much wealth upon the poor,
Though it should cost us what we value most,
That He may make thy spirit bright again
With wisdom for the armour of thy brain.”284
Khusrau gave ear, then made a sage reply:
“Old man of honest brain!” he said to Zál,
“Right goodly are thy counsels and thy speech.
Since Minúchihr was on the throne till now
Thou hast been kindly and benevolent,
While Rustam of the elephantine form,
That man of name, the pillar of the Kaians
And people's joy, became the fosterer
Of Siyáwush and source of good to him.
Troops that have looked on Rustam's iron mace,
His breast, his helmet, and his lion-limbs,
Their bows and arrows on the plains and dales;
He helped mine ancestors to seek revenge,
And was their glorious minister and guide.
Were I to tell thy toils the tales would last
A hundred generations and be fresh,
And were inquiry made of thy good deeds
My praise would only be disparagement.
Next, as to what thou askest of my case
In thus refusing audience and lamenting,
I will inform thee of each circumstance
That thou mayst know the matter point by point:
By God, I have no wish on earth but one—
To quit this wretched world. Five sennights now
Have passed while I have stood to supplicate
The Judge and Guide to pardon past offences,
To brighten my dark moon, convey me hence,
And leave on earth no pain or grief through me.
I must not quit the right and turn aside
Like former Sháhs. I have attained my wish,
And must dispatch because glad news hath come.
Whenas mine eyes were sleeping yester-morn
Surúsh, the blessèd, came to me from God,
And said: ‘Prepare, for 'tis thy time to go,
Thy watching and distress are overpassed.’
So now mine audiences, care for the host,
For crown and throne and belt, are at an end.”
The paladins were troubled in their hearts
About the Sháh and knew not what to do.
Zál, when he heard the monarch's words, was wroth
And from his liver drew a deep, cold sigh;
He said to the Íránians: “This is bad!
No wisdom still abideth in his brain;
Since first I girt a girdle round my loins
I have attended at the Kaians' throne,
Yet may we not ignore what he hath said,
Or give assent thereto in any way,
When he is holding forth in such a strain.
He may have been in conclave with the Dív,
And thus his head is turned away from God.
Húshang and Farídún, God's worshippers,
Ne'er laid their hands on such a branch as this.
I will declare to him the honest truth
E'en at the cost of life.”
The Íránians said:—
“No Kaian e'er spake thus! We are with thee
In what thou say'st to him. May God prevent
His wandering from use and precedent.”
Zál heard their words, then rose and said: “Khusrau,
Thou upright chief! list to the words of one
Advanced in years, one who hath seen the world,
And answer not if he adviseth ill.
Though honest speech be bitter it will bar
The door of ruin by its bitterness.
Take therefore in good part the honest words,
Which I will speak before this company:
Born wast thou in the country of Túrán;
There was thy fountain-head and there thy home;
Thou hadst on one side great Afrásiyáb,
Who never dreamed of aught but sorcery,
For grandsire, on the other base Káús
With wrinkled visage and deceitful heart.
From west to east the greatness and the sway,
The crown and belt, were his. Now he was fain
To pass the sky and count the circling stars,
And though I counselled him at large thereon,
And spake with bitterness as I do now,
He was not profited by all my counsels,
And seared and grieved I turned away from him.
He soared and came down headlong to the dust,
But holy God vouchsafed to spare his life.
His heart was awed, but war was in his thoughts.
Thou with a hundred thousand swordsmen mailed,
And armed with ox-head maces, didst go forth,
As 'twere a lion roused, to levy war,
And rank upon the desert of Khárazm.
Thou wentest forth, the champion of thy host,
To fight afoot against the valiant Shída.
If he had got the upper hand of thee
Thou wouldst have brought the great Afrásiyáb
Upon Írán; the Íránians' wives and children
Had perished; none had girt him for revenge;
But God vouchsafed deliverance from his hand,
Had mercy on thee and confirmed thy counsels.
Thou slewest him whom there was cause to fear,
Him who was thankless to the almighty Judge;
But when I said: ‘It is the time for peace,
The time for robes, for largess, and for goblet;
The king and host will rest from toil, and we
Shall have our souls refreshed for months and years,’
This grievous business came upon Írán,
And more than ever filled our hearts with sorrow,
For thou hast put from thee the way of God,
And ta'en to evil paths and frowardness.
Thy person will not profit by this wrong,
Nor will it please the Maker of the world.
If thou art bent on such a course, O Sháh!
No one will go about to do thy bidding,
And then thou wilt repent thee of thine acts.
Consider! Do not what the dívs command.
Moreover if thou seekest thus their way
The Worldlord will withdraw from thee the Grace,
Thou wilt be left in misery and sin,
And men will never hail thee Sháh again;
God is our Refuge; therefore turn to God,
Because He is our Guide to what is good.
If thou rejectest this my counselling,
And trustest unto wicked Áhriman,
Thou wilt retain no homage and no fortune,
No royal majesty, no crown, no throne.
Because the way in front of us is long.
Mayst thou be prudent, may thy counsels prosper,
And may thy brain be steadfast and devout.”
Whenas the words of Zál had reached their end
The heroes all assented, saying thus:—
“The old man saith what we too think is best,
It is not right that truth should be supprest.”
When Kai Khusrau had hearkened to their words
He was a while anangered and breathed hard,
Then spake deliberately: “O veteran Zál,
Whose manhood reacheth countless years! if I
Speak coldly to thee here before the folk
The Worldlord never will approve that wrong
In me. Moreover Rustam will be grieved,
And through his grief loss will befall Írán;
Moreover should I reckon up his toils
They would be more e'en than his famous treasures.
He hath enshielded me with his own body,
And suffered not our foes to eat or sleep,
So I will answer thee with kindliness,
And will not break thy heart with cruel words.”
Khusrau then cried aloud: “O noble men
Whose fortunes never slumber! I have heard
What Zál hath said in presence of you all.
By God, the almighty Lord, I am afar
Both from the way and bidding of the Dív;
My soul inelineth God-ward, for in Him
I have beheld my remedy for care.
Mine ardent heart hath looked upon this world,
My breast is troubled by the woes thereof.”
He said to Zál: “Forbear thine anger, thou
Shouldst speak in measured words. First, for thy
saying:—
‘None wise and shrewd hath issued from Túrán,’
A prudent monarch of the Kaian stock,
The grandson of the worldlord Kai Káús—
The love-inflaming, wise, and fortunate—
And through my mother from Afrásiyáb,
Whose wrath deprived us both of food and sleep.
Sprung thus from Farídún and from Pashang,
I shame not at my birth because the sea
Could not have purged the Lions of Írán
Of fears inspired by Afrásiyáb.
Next for the carriage which Káús once made
To raise his head above the sovereignty,
Know that no blame attacheth to a king
For lofty aims. Now that I have avenged
My father and have decked the world with goodness,
Have slain my foes, and all who were on earth
The common source of outrage and injustice,
No work remaineth for me here below;
The miscreants have not a monarch left.
Now whensoe'er I meditate awhile
On kingship and long rule I go the way
Of Kai Káús and of Jamshíd, and lose
My footing as they did. I fear that I,
As soon as icy age shall come upon me,
Shall, like impure Zahhák and daring Túr,
Whose outrages revolted all the world,
Be haled to Hell. Again, thou saidst: ‘Thou foughtest
With Shída like a lusty crocodile.’
The reason was—I saw no cavalier
In all Írán who would engage with him,
Or on engaging would not shrink and prove
Of little worth with Shída as a foe,
And so I battled for Írán in person;
Bright is his star who hath the Grace divine.
For these five sennights both by night and day
Have I unclosed my lips with orisons
Might free me from this grief and this dark earth,
And now aweary of host, crown, and throne
I have returned in haste to make all ready.
Thou son of Sám, old and illustrious,
Said'st that the Dív had laid a snare for me,
That darkly and perversely I have left
The way, grown vile of soul and black of heart!
I do not know what chastisement divine
Thou thinkest due to me for life misspent.”
Zál was confounded when he heard these words,
And could not look the monarch in the face.
Then with a cry he rose upon his feet,
And said: “O Sháh, thou worshipper of God!
I have been rash and foolish while thou art
A holy man, and one divinely wise.
Forgive me if the Dív hath led me wrong.
I have been living for unnumbered years
With loins girt up in presence of the Sháhs,
But never saw I one who sought of God,
The Judge of sun and moon, what thou hast sought.
Be evil fortune ever far from him.
I would not lose Khusrau; yet, though my soul
Is dark, let wisdom witness to my words
That to his faithful lieges of Írán
The Sháh's act overrideth all their grief,
So that with us there is desire to part
From our just judge, beneficent Khusrau.”
The Sháh, when he had heard Zál's words, approved
The excuse thus proffered by his loyal liege,
Reached forth and clasped in his the old man's hand,
And made him take his seat upon the throne;
The sun-faced Sháh was ware that naught could move
His liege to speak such words excepting love.
The Sháh spake afterward to Zál, and said:—
“Now gird ye, every one of you, your loins,
Thou, Rustam, Tús, Gúdarz and Gív and all
The others that are men of name and courage!
Bear ye the camp-enclosure from the city
Out on the plain with our victorious standard;
Take thither all the tents and the pavilions
To furnish an encampment; there assemble
The chieftains' flags, the elephants, and troops,
And make a splendid feast-stead.”
Rustam did
As said the Sháh. They brought the camp-enclosure
Forth to the plain, and all the Íránians
Girt up their loins to do as they were bidden.
The earth was filled with tents from hill to hill—
Tents white and sable, violet and blue—
While Káwa's flag was in the midst and made
The world look yellow, red, and violet.
They pitched Zál's tent-enclosure on the plain
Hard by the Sháh before the army. Rustam,
The paladin, was stationed on the left
With shrewd chiefs from Kábul. In front were Tús,
Gúdarz, and Gív, Bízhan the warrior,
With Gustaham and nobles in attendance.
The king of kings sat on the golden throne,
With ox-head mace, on one side Zál and Rustam—
A stately Elephant and Lion grim—
Upon the other Tús, Gúdarz, and Gív,
Gurgín, Farhád, and valorous Shápúr,
While every eye was fixed upon the face
Of Kai Khusrau to know what he would say
About the host. He raised his voice and said:—
“Ye famous men of action! every one
That is possessed of rede and wisdom knoweth
That good and ill will pass away alike;
We all must go, and this world passeth too:
What need for all this travail, grief, and care?
'Tis well to go now while we have our troops,
We must not go as though impuissant;
For us the bull is still within its hide,
And elsewhere are reward and retribution.
Be all of you in fear of holy God,
And put no confidence in this dark earth,
Because the day of each of us will pass,
And time is reckoning our every breath.
From glorious Húshang to Sháh Káús
Of all that had the throne, the crown, and Grace
Naught but the name remaineth to the world,
And no one readeth rescripts from the dead.
And trembled for their error in the end.
A bondslave am I even as they were;
And striven though I have with pains, and I
Have striven and endured exceeding toil,
I realise that here is none abiding.
Now from this Wayside Inn have I uprooted
My heart and soul, and lifted them o'er care
And toil; now have I won my whole desire,
And turned my back upon the Kaian throne.
To every one that hath borne toil with me
Will I give treasure equal to his wish,
And speak to God, who heareth what is good,
For them whom I approve. I give the Íránians
My treasures and mine implements of war.
To every prince among you I will give
A province. Of my purses, slaves, and steeds
Have I bethought me; I produce a list
And now bestow them, for I go my way,
And clear my heart of this obscurity.
Put forth your hands in gladness to the feast,
One sennight eat and drink, and pray that I
May quit this Wayside Hostel and abide
Afar from toil.”
When he announced his purpose
The warriors were all astound at him,
And one among them said: “The Sháh is mad,
And wit is as a stranger to his heart!
I know not what will come to him, or where
The crown and throne will find repose!”
The warriors departed band by band;
Plains, dales, and mountains were all troops. The sounds
Of piping and of neighing steeds ascended
Above the very sky, as thou wouldst say;
Thereat the spirits of the Íránians rose,
And for one week none thought of griefs and woes.
The Sháh the eighth day sat upon the throne
Without his armlets, mace, and golden helm,
And since the time when he must pass was near
They oped the portal of the treasury,
Which done he made Gúdarz, son of Kishwád,
His mandatary, saying: “See to all
The world's affairs—the public and the secret.
There is a season for amassing wealth
With labour, and a time for lavishing.
Look to the ruined caravansaries,
As well as to the bridges on our borders;
The dried up cisterns, those within Írán
And those constructed by Afrásiyáb;
The children motherless, the womenfolk
That have no husbands and are destitute,
With those that come to want in their old age;
Moreover close not thou the treasury's door
To such as strive to hide their sufferings.
Bestow and live in fear of evil days;
See to the cities that are lying waste—
The lurking-dens of leopards and of lions.
Next as to places where the Cult of Fire
Prevailed, but which are waste and priestless now,
As well as every one in indigence,
Who in his early days gave liberally,
Make all these flourish through this hoard of gold
And silver. Think drachms vile; remember death.”
As to the treasure which was called “The Bride,”
Stored by Káús within the town of Tús,
He bade Gúdarz: “Give it to Gív, to Zál,
And to the lord of Rakhsh.”
He reckoned up
His wardrobe and bestowed the whole on Rustam.
The armlets also and the chieftains' torques,
The massive maces and the coats of mail,
He gave to Gustaham—a just award.
Then, choosing from the steeds and saddlery,
He gave a herd of horses highly bred,
And then at large, to Tús the general.
He gave Gúdarz his gardens, rosaries,
And certain palaces the which he named.
The body-armour that he treasured so—
That precious armour worn in his campaigns—
He had bestowed complete on gallant Gív
What time he grew aweary of the throne.
A palace, camp-enclosure with the tents,
Pavilions, stalls, and horses he presented
To Faríburz, son of Káús, as well
As coats of mail and helms and Rúman casques.
A torque which was more bright than Jupiter,
Together with two radiant rings of ruby,
Engraven with the worldlord's name and known
Throughout the world, “These,” said he to Bízhan,
“Receive as a memorial of me,
And sow not any seed but that of good.”
Then said he to the Íránians: “My time
Approacheth, and I long afresh to go;
Make your requests of me for what ye need,
For this assembly must be broken up.”
The chiefs were overcome by grief, they wept,
And burned in anguish for the king of kings.
“To whom now will the Sháh,” inquired they all,
“Bequeath the crown as his memorial?”
He kissed the ground, then springing to his feet
Spake out, and said: “O monarch of the world!
Let me disclose to thee my heart's desire.
What for Írán's sake Rustam hath achieved
In combats, travails, and campaigns thou knowest.
When Kai Káús went to Mázandarán—
A lengthy march of many toilsome leagues—
And when the dívs had put him into ward,
Together with the proud Gúdarz and Tús,
Then matchless Rustam, having heard thereof,
Went to Mázandarán in haste alone.
Through desert and through gloom, midst dívs and
lions,
Enchanters and fierce dragons, in distress
And toil he cut his way, and reached the Sháh;
He rent the White Div's flank, he tore the reins
Both of Púlád,296
son of Ghundí, and Bíd,
And plucked off Sanja's head. His war-cry reached
High heaven. Káús went to Hámávarán,
And there folk made him fast in heavy bonds
With Tús, Gúdarz, and Gív—those gallant hearts
And wary warriors. But matchless Rustam
Marched thither with a mighty host and chieftains,
The chosen of Írán and of Zábul,
And freed Káús, Gúdarz, and Gív and Tús.
When Rustam slew Suhráb—a son unmatched
Mid high and low alike throughout the world—
When waging battle for Káús, the Sháh,
He wept in agony for months and years;
And when he fought Kámús in after-times
His valour sent the dust up to the clouds.
However I might speak about his acts
The tale of them would never reach and end.
Now if the Sháh is tired of crown and throne
What leaveth he this loyal lion-heart?”
“His actions,” such was Kai Khusrau's reply,
“On our behalf, his fightings and his toil,
He that revealeth justice, peace, and love?
Yet Rustam's fame is manifest to all,
And he hath none to match him in the world.”
He ordered that a scribe should come to him
With paper, musk, and spicery. They wrote
A patent from the monarch of the earth,
The exalted Kai Khusrau, the pure in Faith,
For elephantine Rustam, that brave chieftain,
Praised for his valour in all companies,
The foremost of the world, a lord thereof,
A chieftain, vigilant, and valiant,
A conquering leader and the Light of hosts,
Assigning him the province of Nímrúz.
They sealed the patent with the golden signet,
As was the usance of just Kai Khusrau,
Who gave the deed to him, commending him,
And saying: “May the earth be blessed in Rustam.”
Then to the chieftains that had journeyed thither
With Zál, the son of Sám the cavalier,
And astrolabes upon their bosoms bare,
He gave robes, gold, and silver—each his share.
Zál, seeing this, gave thanks exceedingly
To that victorious and discerning Sháh.
When Zál resumed his seat Gúdarz arose,
He urged a just request, and thus he said:—
“Victorious Sháh! we never yet have seen
A master of the throne to equal thee.
From Minúchihr as far as Kai Kubád,
And from Káús until thy noble self,
We have girt up our loins before the chiefs,
And have not had a single day's repose.
My sons and grandsons numbered seventy-eight;
Now eight remain; the rest have passed away.
Was in Túrán, deprived of food and rest;
Upon the waste he lived on onager,
And wore the skins of game. The Sháh, when he
Came to Írán, had seen what toils Gív bare
For him. He wearieth of crown and throne,
And Gív expecteth kindness at his hands.”
Khusrau replied: “He hath done better still,
And may a thousand blessings rest upon him,
The Master of the world be his ally,
And may his foemen's rose be full of thorns.
My havings great and small are in thy hand.
May health of body and of mind be thine.”
He made a grant of Kum and Ispahán—
The seat of nobles and the home of chiefs.
The scribe wrote out with musk and ambergris
On silk the great king's letter, who impressed
His golden seal thereon, blessed it, and said:—
“May God be well contented with Gúdarz,
And may his foemen's hearts be filled with smoke!”
He thus addressed the Íránians: “Know ye this,
That gallant Gív, who hath the thews of chieftains
And lion's claws, is my memorial
To be your succour after I am gone.
Submit yourselves to his authority,
And not transgress the counsels of Gúdarz.”
The chieftains of that race with one accord
Renewed their blessings on their sovereign lord.
Whenas Gúdarz resumed his seat Tús rose,
Came, kissed the ground before Khusrau, and said:—
“O monarch! live for ever. May ill's hand
Be ever far from thee. Of all these nobles
I only am derived from Farídún;
We were the royal house till came Kubád.
Before the Íránians have I girt my girdle,
And never loosed that bondage from my loins.
My body; it was all I had to wear;
And in that war of wreak for Siyáwush
I was each night the watchman of the host.
I could not save the army at Ládan,
But was myself within the Dragon's breath.
When in Hámávarán Káús was bound
There were chains also on the neck of Tús,
And in Mázandarán I was in bonds
With him, and was in dudgeon for his sake.
I, whether I behaved me well or ill,
Served in all places as his general.
I never anywhere dispersed the host,
And no one ever made complaint of me.
The Sháh is tired of treasury and throne,
And is about to quit this Wayside Inn;
What dost thou bid me do? What power is mine?
Thou knowest both my virtues and my faults.”
The Sháh made answer: “Thou hadst greater hard-ships
Than these from fate. Keep Káwa's standard still,
Be general and wear the golden boots.
Thy portion of the world is Khurásán;
None of these nobles will molest thee there.”
They wrote a patent out to that effect
Before the magnates and the mighty men;
Khusrau then sealed it with the golden signet,
And gave to Tús a golden torque and girdle,
Invoking blessings on him fervently:—
“May my heart never more be wroth with thee.”
The king of kings, when he had ordered thus
The matter of the chiefs, went to his throne.
Now of the chiefs Luhrásp remained, whose name
None read upon the roll of royalty,
And him the Sháh required Bízhan to bring
Before the presence with his helmet on.
The worldlord when he saw Luhrásp arose,
Saluted him with outstretched hands and then,
Took from his head the heart-illuming crown,
Resigned it to Luhrásp and hailed him Sháh
Of all the Íránian realm, and said to him:—
“May this thy crown prove fortunate to thee;
Be all the world thy slave. On thee have I,
Since mine exceeding toil and pain are over,
Bestowed the crown of kingship and the treasure.
Speak naught but what is just henceforth, for thou
Through justice wilt be conquering and glad.
Make not the Dív the comrade of thy soul
If thou wilt keep thy fortune vigorous;
Be prudent and without offence, and set
For evermore a watch upon thy tongue.”
He said to the Íránians: “Let your hearts
Be joyful in his fortune and his throne.”
The Íránians were amazed, they raged like lions,
And said: “Must we salute Luhrásp as Sháh?”
Then from among them Zál rose to his feet
To speak the righteous counsels of his heart,
And said on this wise: “O exalted king!
Thou mayest make dust precious, but may dust,
Dust only, fill the head of that man's fortune,
And antidotes prove poison in his mouth,
Who sayeth that Luhrásp is Sháh by right.
We never will consent to such injustice.
Whenas he came Írán-ward with Zarasp
I saw him poor, and owning but one horse;
Thou sentest him to battle with the Aláns,
Providing him with army, flag, and belt.
His birth I know not; I have seen no merit
In him; I never heard of such a monarch.
Though nobles of the royal race abound
The Sháh hath not remembered one of them!”
When Zál, the son of Sám, had spoken thus
The whole assembly sided with the speaker,
And from the Íránians rose a shout: “O Sháh!
Henceforth we will not gird our loins or seek
If now the king exalteth thus Luhrásp.”
Khusrau, when he had heard the words of Zál,
Replied: “Restrain thyself and be not wroth,
For whoso speaketh that which is not just
Will only get the smother of the fire,
Since God approveth not of ill from us,
And bad men writhe 'neath time's vicissitudes,
While he whom God createth for high fortune,
Fit to be monarch and adorn the throne,
Endowed with modesty, Faith, birth, and Grace
Will flourish, conquer, and rejoice in justice.
The Maker is my witness when I say
That all these qualities are in Luhrásp.
He is descended from Húshang the worldlord,
A noble of discernment and clean hands,
A scion of Pashín and Kai Kubád,
Well stocked with knowledge, righteous in his
thoughts.
He will cut off the sorcerers from the earth,
And manifest the way of holy God,
His counsels will renew the age's youth,
And as he is his stainless son will be.
God said to me: ‘Look thou upon Luhrásp,’
And I have acted only as He bade.
Now do ye homage to him as your Sháh,
And as ye love me slight not mine advice,
For if a man transgress my parting counsel
I shall esteem his past exertions wind.
One such as that will give no praise to God,
And fear from all sides will assail his heart.”
As soon as Zál had heard these righteous words
He reached out, set his fingers to the ground,
And in the act of homage smeared his lips
With grimy dust, then hailed Luhrásp as Sháh,
And said to that world's lord: “Mayst thou be
happy.
Far from thee ever be the hand of ill.
Who save the Sháh, victorious and noble,
Knew that Luhrásp was of the royal race?
With grimy dust: account it not a fault.”
The great men showered jewels on Luhrásp,
And hailed him as the Sháh. When Kai Khusrau
Had thus achieved the matter of the kingship
He thought next of the folk and told the Íránians:—
“To-morrow ye will go the selfsame path,
And I, on quitting this vile dust, will pray
To holy God that we be reunited.”
In taking leave he kissed the face of each;
The lashes of his eyes were full of tears;
He pressed each warrior closely to his breast,
And bitterly exclaimed: “Oh! would that I
Could bear this company along with me!”
A cry rose from the army of Írán:—
“The sun hath wandered from its way in heaven!”
Men, children, and the women in their bowers,
On mountain, in bázár, and midst the throng,
Were raising wails and lamentable cries,
And every quarter sorrowed for the Sháh,
While all the chieftains bent them with their heads
Upon the ground and rent their robes in grief;
The earth was in convulsion everywhere,
And all the mighty men were in amazement.
The Sháh then spake to the Íránians,
And said: “Heed, every one of you, this counsel,
All ye that are possessed of Grace and birth!
Be happy in the justice of your lord.
And now will I take order for my soul
That I may pass with honour, for my heart
Hath not been set upon this Wayside Inn:
Know that Surúsh hath come to be my guide.”
He spake and bade to bring night-hued Bihzád,
While lamentations went up from the host;
He reached the palace, overcome with woe,
His noble cypress-stature bending low.
V. 1435
He had four sun-like damsels; none had seen
Their faces e'en in dreams. He called those Idols
Forth from their bowers and told his purpose,
saying:—
“I am about to leave this place of sojourn,
But be not sad or sorry. Ye henceforth
Will see me not, for tired of this ill earth
I shall depart to God, the holy Judge,
And see no way whereby I may return.”
Thereat the sun-faced four became distraught,
And wailed for anguish, misery, and love;
They tore their faces, they plucked out their hair,
And broke their gay and scented ornaments,
Then as each one regained her self-control
She cried out with a lamentable voice:—
“Remove us also from this Wayside Inn,
And guide us to the attainment of this good.”
The noble Sháh made answer to them thus:—
“Ye too will go upon a way like this.
Where are the sisters of Jamshíd the worldlord?
Where are the nobles with their gloryings?
Where is the daughter of Afrásiyáb—
My mother who came hither o'er Jíhún?
Where is Túr's daughter, Máh Áfríd, whose like
None ever saw? Their beds are brick and dust;
I know not if they be in Heaven or Hell.
The talons and the teeth of Death will close
On crown and helm alike, wear which we may;
Hence one should be adorned with righteousness,
For that not even death will take from us.
Because the way is bright before mine eyes.”
He cried aloud and called to him Luhrásp
To whom he spake much of the womenfolk,
And said: “These are mine Idols, and they are
The glory of my garden. Keep them here
Together in this home while thou remainest,
And when God calleth thee let not thy soul,
Through any act of thine, be shamed before Him,
Or feel itself disgraced before two kings
When thou beholdest me with Siyáwush.”
Luhrásp assented unto Kai Khusrau
In all, and answered: “How should I behold them
In their seclusion?”
Kai Khusrau then girt
His loins, and went back to the Íránian chiefs;
He said: “Go home again with all dispatch;
Let not your hearts be seared and smoked for me,
Nor feel at home with this world, for it hath
Its glooms though yet unseen. For evermore
Be ye both great and happy. Never think
Of me except for good. Be jocund all,
Rejoice in God, and when ye have to pass
Be it a day for smiles and happiness.”
Then all the nobles of the Íránian host
Bent to the ground before him, saying thus:—
“The counsels of the Sháh will we hold fast
As life itself as long as life shall last.”
Khusrau commanded that Luhrásp should come,
And said to him: “My day hath passed. Go thou,
Maintain the usage of the royal throne,
And in the world sow but the seed of good.
Whenever thou hast any times of ease
Boast not about thy treasures and thy crown;
Know this that when thy day of darkness cometh
The way before thee is the way to God.
Seek after and perform whate'er is just,
And hold the persons of the great in honour.”
And kissed the ground with signs of sore distress.
Khusrau said: “Fare thee well and be thyself
The warp and woof of justice.”
From Írán
Went chieftains with the Sháh, great, shrewd, and
valiant,
As Zál and Rustam, as Gúdarz and Gív,
The brave Bízhan and gallant Gustaham;
The seventh was Faríburz, son of Káús,
The eighth famed Tús. The host marched troop on
troop
Till from the waste they reached a mountain-top,
And tarried there a sennight to draw breath
And wet their lips, exclaiming at the Sháh,
And labour which they could not understand,
While every archimage said privily:—
“None in the world e'er told of such a case!”
Whenas the sun arose above the hills
A multitude collected from all parts,
And five score thousand of the Íránians,
Both men and women, went before the Sháh
In grief; the mount was full of wails and cries,
And e'en the flints were moved. The people all
Said to Khusrau: “O Sháh! what aileth thee
That thy shrewd heart is seared and full of smoke?
If thou hast taken umbrage at the host,
Or holdest this crown worthless, tell us so,
Quit not Írán nor give this ancient world
A youthful Sháh. We are thy horse's dust,
And worship thine Ázargashasp. Oh! whither
Are all thy knowledge, rede, and senses fled?
Surúsh came never thus to Siyáwush!
We all will offer up our prayers to God,
With supplications in the Fane of Fire,
If haply holy God may pardon us,
And thine own priestly heart illume us still.”
The king of kings astonied called the archmages
Forth from the throng, and said: “Here all is well;
Ye must not weep at happiness like this.
For soon we meet again; mourn not my going.”
Then to the chiefs he said: “Turn, all of you,
Back from this mountain-top without your Sháh,
Because the way is longsome, waterless,
And hard, devoid of grass and foliage.
Relieve yourselves of going to and fro,
And make your souls a path toward the Light.
Yon desert none may pass who hath not Grace
And lofty stature.”
Three proud warriors
Attended to the bidding and turned back—
Zál, Rustam, and the old Gúdarz—all men
Of lofty aims, farsightedness, and heed,
But Tús and Gív and Faríburz, Bízhan,
And gallant Gustaham, would not return.
They went together for one day and night,
Distressed by reason of the waste and drouth;
At length a spring was seen upon the way,
And thither went the aspiring Kai Khusrau.
They lighted from their steeds by that clear spring,
Partook of food, and drew their breath awhile.
The Sháh addressed the marchlords thus, and said:—
“Here let us make our sojourn for the night,
And talk at large together of the past,
For henceforth nobody will see me more.
What time the radiant sun shall raise its flag,
And turn the darksome earth to liquid gold,
Then is the time when I shall pass away,
And haply with Surúsh for company;
My heart will I pluck out if darkening
It turneth from this path.”
As night advanced
The famous Kaian went before his God,
Bathed, head and body, in the limpid stream,
Reciting to himself the Zandavasta,
And thus addressed those famous men of lore:—
“Farewell for ever! When the sky shall bring
The sun again ye shall not look on me
Henceforth save in your dreams. Moreover be not
Although the clouds rain musk, for from the moun-tains
Will rise a furious blast and snap the boughs
And leafage of the trees, a storm of snow
Will shower down from heaven's louring rack,
And toward Írán ye will not find the track.”
The chieftains' heads were heavy at the news,
The warriors slept in pain, and when the sun
Rose o'er the hills the Sháh had disappeared.
They roamed thence seeking him and set their faces
Toward the sands and waste. They saw no trace
Of Kai Khusrau and turned back from the way
Like men insane, heart-straitened all and anguished,
The ground well trodden but the Sháh not found.
Lamenting, sorrowful of heart, afflicted,
They came back to the spring and lighting there
They each farewelled the monarch of the world.
Then Faríburz repeated what Khusrau
Had said. “Be wisdom and his pure soul mates,”
He added, but the heroes answered thus,
Not doing honour to his words at heart:—
“The earth is soft and warm, the sky is clear.
We cannot travel wearied as we are.
When we have rested, eaten, and reposed
Beside the spring, it will be time to go.”
They all of them alighted by the spring,
And made Khusrau the subject of their talk.
“None will behold a wonder such as this,”
They said, “however long his life may last!
When saw we such a passing of a Sháh?
We have not heard the chiefs e'en tell of such.
His majesty, his mien, and noble bearing!
The wise will laugh at such a tale as this,
That any one should go alive to God!
Who knoweth what on earth hath chanced to him?
What shall we say? Ears will not bear to hear!”
Gív thus addressed those chiefs: “No warrior
Will hear of one like him for manliness,
For justice, generosity, and parts,
For stature and demeanour, fame and birth.
He was an Elephant amid the host
In battle, and in feast a crownèd moon.”
Thereafter they partook of what there was,
And, having eaten, quickly went to sleep.
Meanwhile there came up storm and cloud, the sky
Became as 'twere a lion's hide, and when
The snow had hoisted sail upon the earth
The lances of the nobles disappeared!
They tarried in the snow, I know not why,
And under it they struggled for a while,
And made a hollow space, but at the last
Strength failed them and they yielded up sweet life.
Now Rustam, Zál, and divers cavaliers
Abode for three days weeping on the mountain,
But on the fourth day when the world's light shone
They said: “A long affair—this tarrying
Mid rocks and mountains! If the Sháh hath vanished,
Blown from among us like a breath of air,
Where are the other nobles gone? Perchance
They heeded not the counsel that he gave.”
And by the sennight's end were all distraught,
All woe-begone, lamenting, and consuming
As on fierce fire. Gúdarz, son of Kishwád,
Shed tears, plucked out his hair, and tore his cheeks,
Exclaiming: “None e'er saw such ills as come
Upon me from the offspring of Káús!
I once possessed a host of sons and grandsons;
Each wore a crown, and they were worldlords all.
They all were slain avenging Siyáwush;
My race hath had its day, for now the rest
Have disappeared. Whoever saw such marvels
As have befallen me?”
Zál spake at large:—
“Be God's just dealing and thy wisdom mates!
Perchance they may return and find the path
Whenas the highway showeth from the snow;
But we may not abide upon the mountain,
There is no food and we must needs depart;
We will dispatch some on the way afoot;
One day they will find traces of the band.”
They left the mountain, weeping for distress,
And every one had some one to recall—
A kinsman, son, or friend, or else the Sháh,
Himself as 'twere a cypress in the garden.
The world is always thus; it will not stay
E'en with the best for ever. This it may
Exalt from dust, that from the throne remove,
Not that in anger and not this in love;
'Tis but the fashion of the sky above!
Where are those warriors and world-ruling kings?
Oh! banish if thou canst such questionings.
V. 1442
When from the troops escorting Kai Khusrau
Luhrásp had tidings how the Sháh had fared
He sat with crown of gold upon the throne,
The heroes with their golden girdles came,
And, when the illustrious men and chief estates
Had ta'en their seats, Luhrásp looked round, arose,
Spake with good feeling and straightforwardness,
And said: “O leaders of the host! ye all
Have heard the parting counsels of the Sháh.
Whoe'er rejoiceth not at mine accession
Hath not the counsels of Khusrau in mind.
All that he said and bade me will I do,
Will strive for good, and carry out his will.
Do ye too not reject his last request,
Or keep your secret counsels hid from me.
The man is guilty in the sight of God,
That heedeth not the last requests of Sháhs,
And therefore whatsoe'er ye have in mind
Of good and ill ye must reveal to me.”
Zál answered: “Kai Khusrau gave thee the name
Of Sháh. Accepting his last words and bidding
My foot shall stray not from the limits set.
Thou art the Sháh; we are thy lieges all,
And we will not transgress thy rede and orders.
I, Rustam, and the people of Zábul,
Will never wash our hands of love to thee.
Whoe'er he be that taketh not this course
Shall find no good thing left within his reach.”
Luhrásp, when he had heard the words of Zál,
Applauded him, and then embracing him
Spake thus: “God grant that justice and the right
May never prove your loss and injury,
For He created you with this intent
That toils and ills might vanish. Kai Khusrau—
Ere he departed gave to you Nímrúz.
Now in addition take what else ye need.
'Tis not for me to share with you my wealth;
I and my kin and kingdom are all yours.”
Then said he to Gúdarz: “Speak out thy mind,
Whate'er it be, thou chief of paladins!”
Gúdarz made answer: “I am left alone,
For I have lost Bahrám, Bízhan, and Gív.”
Then overcome by anguish for his kin
He cried out in a lamentable voice:—
“Woe for the hero Gív of brazen form,
And that aspiring wielder of the sword
Bízhan!”
He spake and rent from head to foot
His robe of Chín and tunic made in Rúm,
And said thus to the nobles: “Blest is he
Whose mate is dust. I give assent to all
That Zál hath said, I have no secrets from him.
Thou art the Sháh, and we are all thy lieges:
We will keep fealty and do thy will.”
The chiefs with one consent called blessings down,
And bent their heads in homage to the ground,
While at their words Luhrásp, refreshed at heart,
Drew himself up and was another man.
He chose himself a most auspicious day
Whereon to set the crown upon his head,
And, just as Farídún of glorious birth
First put the crown on in the month wherein
They celebrate the hocktide of Mihrgán,
Luhrásp selected that same day and month—
The time of the Autumnal Equinox.
And in his hands Írán took added lustre.
Such is the world—all ups and downs—and so
One man is glad, another is brought low;
From it are joy and grief; its How and When
And Why are all beyond our human ken.
Completed is the tale of Kai Khusrau,
The acts of Sháh Luhrásp engross us now;
His crown and court alike I celebrate,
And place him in his seat upon the state
By the triumphant grace of our great king.
The author of our hopes and fears is he,
To his well-wishers' hearts all good doth bring,
And to the ill-disposed calamity.
Hearts that have been rust-eaten by the brine
Of speech will be refurbished by old wine.
When eld hath stolen on a man good sooth!
Wine that hath waxen old will give him youth.
Faint hearts when quaffing turn to men of might,
And foxes in their cups like lions fight;
In wine too thou wilt show thy quality,
And to thine own locked door thyself be key.
Gushtásp, the son of Luhrásp, dissatisfied with his position at the court of his father who, mindful of his obligations to Kai Khusrau, reserves his chief favours for the descendants of Kai Káús, quits Írán in dudgeon and takes refuge in the land of Rúm, where Cæsar's daughter falls in love with him and marries him. Gushtásp achieves great quests in his adopted country and, returning to Írán, is reconciled to his father who resigns the throne in his favour.
For Luhrásp see Vol. II. p. 8 seq.
The romantic legend that occupies practically the whole of this reign was partially extant with certain variations in the days of Alexander the Great, some thirteen centuries before Firdausí wrote. Athenæus in his Deipnosophistœ314
quotes the following story from Chares of Mytilene, who was an official (◌) at the court of Alexander the Great, and wrote an anecdotal history of him and of his campaigns in ten books, of which only fragments are extant in the writings of Athenæus and other authors: “We must not be astonished at some folk having fallen in love with others upon mere hearsay of their beauty when Chares of Mytilene in the tenth book of his anecdotal history of Alexander affirms that some have dreamt of those whom they never saw and fallen in love with them in consequence. He writes as follows: ‘Hystaspes had a younger brother named Zariadres and they were both very good-looking. The people of the country say that they were the children of Aphrodite and Adonis. Hystaspes was king of Media and of the lower lands thereabout, while Zariadres ruled over the country above the Caspian Gates up to the river Tanais.315
Now the daughter of Omartes, the chief of the Marathi, a people that dwelt beyond the Tanais, was named Odatis. She, as the histories tell us, dreamt of Zariadres and fell in love with him while in like fashion he fell in love with her. Thus for a long time they loved each other through the phantasies of sleep alone. Odatis was the most beautiful woman in Asia, and Zariadres too was very good-looking; but when he sent to Omartes to ask Odatis in marriage her father refused because he had no sons and desired to marry her to some one at his own court. Soon after he convoked the magnates of the realm, his kindred and his friends, and held a marriage-feast without announcing on whom he intended to bestow his daughter. When they were revelling he sent for Odatis and said to her before all the guests: “O Odatis, my daughter! we are engaged in celebrating your marriage-festival, so now look about you, scan those who are here, then take a golden goblet, fill it and give it to him unto whom you would like to be married, for you shall be his wife.” But Odatis, having looked about her, went away in tears, for she wanted to see Zariadres whom she had informed concerning her marriage-festival. Meanwhile Zariadres, who was encamped on the Tanais, had left his army there, had crossed the river secretly with his chariot-driver only, had driven through the city by night, and covered a distance of some eight hundred stadia without a pause. When he reached the town where the marriage-festivities were taking place he left the chariot with the charioteer hard by and went on alone dressed in Scythian garb. When he reached the palace he saw Odatis by the table in tears and filling the goblet very slowly. He got close to her and said: “Here am I as you asked me, Odatis—I, Zariadres!” She looked and saw a handsome man, like him of whom she had dreamed, and overjoyed gave him the goblet. He seized her, bore her off to his chariot, and fled away with her. The attendants and handmaids, who wotted of the love between the pair, held their peace, and when her father called for her said they knew not whither she had gone. This love-story of theirs is rife among the barbarians of Asia and greatly admired. They have pictures of it in their temples, palaces, and private houses, and many magnates in those parts give their daughters the name of Odatis.’”
It seems clear that in the brothers Hystaspes and Zariadres of the story we have the brothers Gushtásp and Zarír of the Sháhnáma. In the poem the framework of the story is different and the account has become much elaborated. The scene is changed from Scythia to Rúm and the chief actor is Gushtásp himself. The dream is confined to the lady's side and a posy is substituted for the goblet, so that we lose the pretty picture of Odatis standing by the table in tears and pouring out the wine as slowly as possible in the forlorn hope of her lover appearing. Still the identity of the legend in Athenæus with that in the Sháhnáma seems fairly obvious.
The method of contracting marriage as illustrated by the above story was known in ancient India as “Swyamvara” or “Self” or “Maiden's Choice.” We read in the Mahábhárata: “The large-eyed daughter of Kuntibhoja, Prithá by name, was endued with beauty and every accomplishment… Her father … invited … the princes and kings of other countries and desired his daughter to elect her husband from among his guests… The amiable daughter of Kuntibhoja, of faultless features, beholding Pándu—that best of men—in that assembly, became very much agitated. And advancing with modesty, all the while quivering with emotion, she placed the nuptial garland round Pándu's neck… Then … the bride's father caused the nuptial rites to be performed duly.”316
§§ 14 and 15. The Khazars, who dwelt between the Caucasus and the Don and Volga rivers, had frequent political relations with the Eastern Roman, the Sásánian, and the Muhammadan empires till they were absorbed by Russia in Firdausí's lifetime.
The principal Íránian characters of this reign—Luhrásp himself, Gushtásp, and Zarír—appear in the Zandavasta as Aurvat-aspa, Vistaspa, and Zairi-vairi respectively, but the allusions to them in that work are concerned with the events recorded in the next reign, that of Gushtásp, which will appear in Vol. V. of this translation.
V. 1445
Now when Luhrásp sat on the ivory throne,
And donned the crown that brighteneth the heart,
He praised the Maker and besought Him much,
Then said: “Have hope in God, the righteous Judge;
Hold Him in fear and awe; the Artist He
Of yon revolving sky, and magnifieth
The Glory of His slave. When He created
Earth, with its seas and mountains, He outspread
High heaven over it, one turning swiftly,
The other fixed; the Artist gave thereto
No feet to move withal. The sky is like
The polo-stick, we, bandied to and fro
By profit and by loss, are like the ball.
Amid thy pleasures Death with sharpened claws
Is crouching like a fierce and angry lion;
So let us quit the lust of covetise,
Acknowledging our ignorance meanwhile,
And from this crown of kingship, this high throne,
Ensue but justice, peace, and goodly counsels,
Lest haply in this Wayside Inn our lot
Should prove but vengeance, travail, and a curse.
I will do more than Kai Khusrau enjoined,
And banish from my heart revenge and greed.
Be peaceable and have no thoughts of vengeance.”
The mighty of the world called blessings down
Upon him, hailed him monarch of the earth,
And great Luhrásp had quiet, wisdom, wealth,
And all his heart's desire continually.
Thereafter he sent envoys unto Rúm,
To Hind, to Chín, and other peopled lands,
And all the men that were possessed of knowledge,
And those that practised divers useful arts,
From all the marches and the provinces
Went to the Sháh's court and abode at Balkh
A while at leisure tasting of the salts
And sours of knowledge. He erected there
A city with its streets, bázárs, and quarters,
In each whereof there was a place to hold
The feast of Sada, round a Fane of Fire,
And there he built Barzín, for so they call
That glorious temple and magnifical.
He had two sons, as 'twere two moons, well worthy
Of sovereignty, of throne, and diadem,
One hight Gushtásp, the other hight Zarír,
Who conquered lions, in all knowledge passed
Their father, and in valour raised their heads
Above the other troops. There were besides
Among those in attendance on Luhrásp
Two princes, both of whom he held in honour,318
Men of high rank whose steps were fortunate,
The grandsons of the worldlord Kai Káús.
The soul of Sháh Luhrásp rejoiced in them,
And thereby grew neglectful of Gushtásp,
Who took it in bad part, but folly still
The son was full of dudgeon with the father.
It was so that one day in Párs they set
The throne 'neath blossom-shedding trees. Luhrásp
Invited certain chieftains of the host,
Who at the table called for cups of wine,
And made his heart rejoice. Gushtásp too drank,
Then rose and said: “O just and righteous Sháh!
Blest be thy sitting on the royal throne,
And may thy name live on for evermore!
God hath bestowed upon thee casque and girdle,
Besides the crown of upright Kai Khusrau.
Now I am here a slave before thy gate,
A servant of thy star and diadem,
I hold not one a man of those that come
Before me on the day of fight save Rustam,
The son of Zál, the son of Sám the horseman,
For none is able to contend with him.
Now when Khusrau grew weary of the world
He gave the crown to thee and passed away.
If then I am of noble birth appoint me
Successor to the crown and Kaian throne,
And I will be a slave before thee still,
As I am now, and hail thee sovereign.”
Luhrásp made answer: “O my son! give ear,
For vehemence commendeth not the noble,
While I recall the advice of Kai Khusrau,
That thou mayst acquiesce in what is just.
‘If,’ said that righteous king to me, ‘a weed
Infesteth any garden in the spring,
And findeth water, it will grow and spoil
That garden utterly.’ Thou art still young:
Aspire not thus; speak weighty, measured words.”
Gushtásp, on hearing, left his father's presence
With dolorous heart and livid face, exclaiming:—
“Then cherish strangers and neglect thine offspring.”
All warriors and ready for the fray.
Alighting from his steed he summoned these
To tell them all the secrets of his heart;
He said: “Make ready to depart to-night,
And cease to think, or look, upon this court.”
One asked him saying: “Whither goest thou?
Where wilt thou shelter when thou settest forth.”
He said: “With those of Hind. The monarch there
Affecteth me. I have his letter written
On silk with ink musk-scented. Thus he saith:—
‘If thou wilt come to me I am thy servant,
Will do thy bidding and be thine ally.’”
Whenas night came he mounted with his men,
And started, full of choler, mace in hand.
Luhrásp, who had the news thereof at dawn,
Was grieved and all his joy was at an end.
He summoned to him veterans from the host,
And told the case to them in fitting terms.
“Behold,” said he, “that which Gushtásp hath done,
And filled my heart with pain, my head with dust!
I cherished him until he had grown up,
And was unparalleled in all the world,
But even as I said ‘He beareth fruit,’
The tree itself departed from my garden!”
He spake and for a while sat deep in thought,
Then ordered that Zarír should come and said:—
“Choose out a thousand valiant cavaliers,
Equipped for war. Toward Hindústán speed ye,
And may that land of warlocks cease to be.”
Gushtásp, the atheling, with tearful eyes
Fared onward wrathfully before his men
In haste until he reached Kábul, and looked
Upon its trees and blossoms, grass and streams.
One day and breathed themselves. The mountain-tops
Were full of game, the streams like wine and milk.
At night he bade the drawers bring forth wine,
And carry lights down to the river-side;
But when the world-illuming sun o'ershone
The mountains they departed from the woods
With hawk and cheetah.
In hot haste Zarír
Went in pursuit, with scarcely halts for rest,
Till, as the warriors with Gushtásp returned
From hunting, rose the neigh of steeds. He heard,
And said: “'Tis from the charger of Zarír—
None other—for it hath a lion's voice.
If he hath come he hath not come alone,
But with a gallant host in company.”
Now as he spake dust azure-dim appeared,
A standard too charged with an elephant,
And leading all the rest Zarír the chief
Came onward as it were a rushing wind.
He saw and hurried weeping toward Gushtásp
Afoot with thanks and praises to the Maker.
The brothers clasped each other tenderly,
And as they fared along the field they wept.
Then prince Gushtásp, the warrior, called the captains,
Who sitting with him canvassed all the case,
And one said: “Hero of the golden girdle!
The readers of the stars, all whom we know
To be expert among the Íránians,
Foretell in thee another Kai Khusrau
Predestined to ascend the royal throne.
The subject of the king of Hindústán.
His people are not worshippers of God,
And thou and they will ne'er be in accord,
Consider then if wisdom could consent
To make the Sháh the subject of the Rája!
Thou hast the fairest treatment from thy father;
I know not wherefore thou shouldst feel aggrieved.”
Gushtásp replied: “O seeker of renown!
I am not held in honour by my sire,
Who keepeth for the offspring of Káús
His kindness, majesty, and royal crown.
There is no place with him for us; he meaneth
No better for us than complete subjection,
Yet for thy sake will I return although
My heart is full of choler at Luhrásp.
If he shall give to me the Íránian crown
I will adore him as idolaters
Adore their idols, but if otherwise
I will desert his court, no moon of his
Shall light my heart. I will elude his search,
And will abandon everything to him—
Both land and wealth.”
This said, he left that land,
And went back to the noble Sháh. Now when
Luhrásp had news thereof he with the chiefs
And many followers went to meet Gushtásp.
The atheling beheld his father's face
Again and, having lighted from his steed,
Did reverence. Luhrásp embraced him warmly,
And readily accepted his excuses,
Exclaiming: “May the moon's crown be thine own,
The Dív's hands shortened that they may not reach
thee,
For, like a bad king's evil minister,
He is for ever teaching thee bad ways.
As for the kingship—crown and throne are mine
In name, but love and fealty, rule and fortune
Are thine.”
Gushtásp replied: “My sovereign!
I am but as a servant at thy gate.
If thou abasest me I will obey,
And stake my heart upon my fealty.”
Went to the palace of the Sháh rejoicing.
He had his jewelled banquet-hall prepared,
They spread the board and served delicious wines;
They made a feast so splendid that the stars
Rained from the firmament upon the throne,
And every chieftain was bemused and wore
A coronal of roses on his head.
Yet still Luhrásp found pleasure in the race
Of Kai Káús, remembering Kai Khusrau,
And still Gushtásp aggrieved shed tears of blood,
Consulting on all points with his adviser,
To whom he said: “Strive wisely as I may
I cannot find a remedy herefor.
If I depart with horsemen then my father
Will send a chieftain after me with troops,
Will in some way divert me from my journey,
And ply me with appeals and with advice,
While if I go alone I shall be shamed,
And have besides a grudge against Luhrásp,
Who joyeth in the offspring of Káús,
And loveth not his own. If I depart
Without an escort, and a questioning
Arise, will any take me for a king?”
At night he put the saddle on Shabdíz,
A charger of his father's, donned a tunic
Of cloth of gold of Chín, stuck in his crown
An eagle's plume, and took whate'er he needed
Both of dínárs and royal jewelry.
He left Írán for Rúm, for since the father
Preferred to reign the son preferred to range.
On hearing what Gushtásp had done Luhrásp
Was troubled, all his joy was at an end.
Held talk with them at large about Gushtásp,
And said to them: “This lion-man will bring
Crowned heads to dust. What are your views herein?
What course do ye advise? Treat it not lightly.”
An archmage said: “O fortune's favourite!
A crown and throne are very dear to men.
None else hath had a son such as Gushtásp,
No man of name e'er heard of such an one.
Dispatch in quest of him to every quarter
Some valiant nobles that are good at need;
Then, if he shall return, deal gently with him,
Do what is right, and banish selfishness,
Because the Kaian crown beholdeth many,
Such as thou art, but loveth no one long.
Bestow upon Gushtásp a host of men,
And set the noble crown upon his head.
We nowhere see a cavalier like him,
Save Rustam that illustrious paladin,
While in respect of stature, wisdom, looks,
And sense, ear hath not heard of such another.’
Luhrásp sent chiefs and sought through all the world
To find his son. They went their various ways,
But in the end returned despairingly,
Because they journeyed under sluggish stars.
Luhrásp had all the censure for his share,
The grief and travail were Gushtásp's affair.
Gushtásp dismounted when he reached the shore,
And there Híshwí—a man advanced in years,
Frank, vigilant, respected, prosperous,
Who was employed as toll-collector—saw him.
Gushtásp saluting said: “May thy pure soul
Be wisdom's mate! A rising scribe am I,
Come from Írán, discreet, of ardent spirit,
To ferry me across.”
Híshwí replied:—
“Crown, mail, and plunder are the things for thee;
Tell me the truth and try not thus to cross;
Give me a present or declare thyself;
Where are the mien and manners of a scribe?”
Gushtásp said: “I have nothing to conceal;
Moreover I will give thee what thou wilt—
This coronet, sword, charger, or dínárs.”
The man accepted some dínárs with joy,
Set sail, and took across the atheling.
There was a city in the land of Rúm
Above three leagues in breadth. Salm was the founder
Of that great seat where dwelt the valiant Cæsars.
Gushtásp, as soon as he arrived thereat,
Sought out a lodging in that busy place,
And walked about the district for a week
Among the people there to seek employment
Till, having eaten or bestowed his all,
He went in dudgeon, sighing heavily.
He tramped the city for a while, passed through
A hall, and entering a public office,
Addressed the chief clerk thus: “O friend in need!
A scribe of some pretensions from Írán
Am I, and can perform the office-work
To thy content.”
The scribes in that department
Looked one upon another saying thus:—
“A pen of steel would weep, a sheet of paper
Scorch, at a man like this! A lofty charger
Is what he needeth under him, with bow
Upon his arm and lasso at his saddle.”
They cried: “We want no scribe here. Go thy
Gushtásp departed thence heart-sorrowful
With pallid cheeks and, heaving deep, cold sighs,
Sought Cæsar's master of the herds, a man
Brave, wise, and generous, by name Nastár.
Gushtásp saluted him, was well received
And seated by the master, who inquired:—
“Who art thou that in mien and countenance
Art like a king?”
Gushtásp said: “Noble sir!
A horseman am I and a bold rough-rider.
If thou wilt take me I will prove of use,
And stand beside thee too in stress and trouble.”
Nastár said: “Go thy way. Thou art a stranger,
And hast no standing. Here are desert, sea,
And steeds at large! How then can I entrust
The herds to one unknown?”
On hearing this
Gushtásp went off in dudgeon. Thou hadst said:—
“His skin hath burst upon him!” He exclaimed:—
“A man will fare the worse for his desire
To be a source of trouble to his father.”
He went in haste to Cæsar's cameleers,
Saluted him that was the chief and said:—
“Be thine an ardent and discerning mind!”
That wise man, when he saw Gushtásp, advanced
To meet him, offered him a place, and spread
A carpet, bringing out what food he had.
Gushtásp said: “Prosperous, bright-hearted friend!
Entrust to me one of thy caravans,
Assigning me such wages as thou wilt.”
“This occupation is not fit for thee;
Shouldst thou engage in such a work as mine?
'Tis better to apply to Cæsar's court,
He will enfranchise thee from such a business,
And if the way is longsome I have camels,
Such as thou wilt approve, and men as guides.”
Gushtásp gave thanks to him and turned away.
Full of distress he started for the city,
His sufferings lying heavy on his heart,
And turned his steps toward the smiths' bázár.
There was a noted smith by name Búráb,
Skilled in the trade, the farrier to the court,
Of influence with Cæsar; he employed
Some thirty-five apprentices and workmen
Accustomed to the hammer and the iron.
Gushtásp sat in the shop until the master
Grew weary of him, and exclaimed: “Good fellow!
What wouldst thou in my shop?”
Gushtásp replied:—
“O prosperous man! I am not one to turn
My head away from hammers and hard work.
If thou wilt make me one of thine assistants
I will excel them all at smithery.”
Búráb, when he had heard Gushtásp thus speak,
Received him in apprenticeship, and heating
A mighty mass of metal in the fire
Made haste to place it glowing on the anvil.
They gave a heavy hammer to Gushtásp,
And all the smiths flocked round, but when he smote
He smashed the iron and the anvil also,
And made himself the talk of the bázár.
Búráb, alarmed, exclaimed: “Young man! no anvil,
Stone, fire, or bellows will withstand thy blows!”
Gushtásp, on hearing this, flung down the hammer
In dudgeon, left the smith and went off hungry,
Without a glimpse of food or where to lodge;
But neither do the days of toil and stress,
Nor those of ease and wealth and happiness,
Are transient, and the sage is of good cheer.
Gushtásp was sorrowful and railed at heaven
Because in this world he had nought but bane.
Hard by the city he beheld a hamlet,
Trees, flowers, and streams—a gladsome spot for
youth.
Beside the water was a mighty tree,
Its shade impervious to the sun's bright rays,
And in that shade the young man sat him down,
And fretted in his trouble and depression.
He spake on this wise: “O almighty Judge!
Grief is the lot assigned to me by fortune.
My star, I see, is evil, but I know not
Why 'tis that evil cometh on my head.”
A nobleman of that fair hamlet passed,
Beheld the outcast weeping tears of blood,
His chin supported by his hand, and said:—
“O noble youth! why art thou sorrowful
And dark of soul? If thou wilt visit me
Thou for a while shalt be my gladsome guest;
These sorrows may be lessened to thy heart,
And dried the arrowy lashes of thine eyes.”
Gushtásp replied: “My lord! first let me know
Thy lineage.”
The householder made answer:—
“What is the purpose of thy questioning?
Descended am I from Sháh Farídún,
The warrior—no paltry ancestor.”
Gushtásp, on hearing this, arose and went
With him. The chief reached home and had his
hall
Decked to receive his guest, he held Gushtásp
As though he were a brother, and the time
Passed leaving not a wish unsatisfied.
A while elapsed with matters in this stay
Until month after month had passed away.
Whenever he possessed a daughter grown
To womanhood, well favoured by the stars,
And he perceived that she was fit to wed,
To gather to his palace all the magnates,
The sages, and the counsellors—all those
Of competent degree and high estate
Among the nobles—and the moon-faced damsel
Would roam her father's hall to seek a spouse,
But so surrounded by her waiting-maids
That men could view not e'en her lofty crown.
He had three daughters then within his bower,
Like roses in the spring, tall, fair, and gentle,
Wise, modest, and well seen in everything.
The eldest was the princess Katáyún,
The wise, the merry, and high-spirited.
One night she dreamed that all the country shone
With sunlight. There appeared a throng of men,
The Pleiades among them and a stranger—
A wanderer of mournful heart and wise,
In height a cypress and in looks a moon,
Whose seat was as a king's upon his throne—
And Katáyún held out to him a posy,
A posy bright and sweet, which he accepted.
As soon as day dawned, and the sun arose,
The nobles woke, and Cæsar called together
A vast assembly of the great and brave,
Who sat rejoiced. The fairy-faced princess
Was summoned, and appeared with sixty handmaids,
A bunch of fresh narcissus in her hand,
And roamed about until she grew aweary,
But no one of the throng found favour with her.
In state, but wept; her heart yearned for a husband.
Meanwhile earth grew as dark as ravens' wings
Until the Lamp rose o'er the mountain-tops;
Then Cæsar bade that all the wealthy nobles
Among his lieges in the land of Rúm
Should meet together in his lofty palace,
That some one might find favour by his beauty.
Now when the tidings came to every chieftain,
To high and low alike, the same good friend
Said to Gushtásp: “How long wilt thou be hidden?
Come! It may be that looking on the palace
And throne of greatness may abate thy grief
Of heart.”
Gushtásp thereat set forth with him,
And sat down in the palace but apart,
Aggrieved, and sore. Shrewd-hearted slaves appeared,
Then Katáyún with rosy-cheeked attendants.
She roamed the hall with slaves before and after,
And when from far she saw Gushtásp she said:—
“The meaning of my dream is manifest,”
And set the rich and splendid coronal
Upon his glorious brow. On seeing this
The minister, her tutor, came in haste
To Cæsar, saying: “She hath chosen one
In stature like a cypress in the orchard,
With cheeks like rosebuds, and such neck and shoulders
That whosoever seeth is astonied!
Thou wouldest say: ‘Here is the Grace of God,’
And yet we do not know him!”
Cæsar answered:—
“Forbid it, Heaven! that a child of mine
My head will be abased in ignominy;
We must behead them both within the palace.”
The bishop said: ‘'Tis not so grave a case,
And hath occurred to many chiefs before thee.
Thou saidest to thy daughter: ‘Choose a husband.’
Thou saidest not: ‘Choose an illustrious prince,’
And she hath taken him that pleaseth her;
Show then submission to the will of God.
This was the custom of thine ancestors,
Those eminent, God-fearing, holy men,
And Rúm hereon is founded; take not thou
A new way when the land is prospering;
It would not be auspicious. Speak not so,
And by untrodden paths forbear to go.”
As soon as Cæsar heard this he determined
To give his precious daughter to Gushtásp,
To whom he said: “Go with her as thou art,
I will not give thee treasure, crown, or signet.”
Gushtásp, on seeing that, was all astound;
He oft invoked the Maker of the world,
And spake to that exalted damsel, saying:—
“O thou who hast been delicately nurtured!
What hath induced thee to make choice of me
Amid these many chiefs and famous crowns?
Thy chosen is an alien, and thou
Wilt have no wealth with him but live in travail.
Select an equal from these noble men,
And so retain the favour of thy father.”
But Katáyún replied: “Misdoubting one!
Rage not against the process of the sky.
If I am satisfied with thee and fortune
Why seekest thou crown, throne, and diadem?”
They left the palace, Katáyún in pain,
Gushtásp with sighs, and reached the village-chief
Within the village, furnished it superbly,
And said: “Content you and be prosperous.”
Gushtásp, beholding these things, offered thanks
To that kind friend of his, the pious chieftain.
Now Katáyún had trinkets numberless,
And ample stores of gems and jewelry.
From these she chose a stone, such that the eye
Of expert never had beheld the like,
And this they carried to a jeweller,
Who lavished on it praises numberless,
And gave therefor six thousand gold dínárs.
They purchased what was suitable or needful,
And lived upon the cash that they had raised,
At whiles rejoicing and at whiles in tears.
Gushtásp's whole occupation was the chase;
He spent all day with arrows in his quiver.
Once, when returning from the hunting-field,
His road lay by Híshwí. He had with him
All kinds of game. He pricked along. His quiver
Was full. All that he had of great and small
He carried to Híshwí332
who, when he saw,
Ran forth in high delight to welcome him,
And, having spread a carpet, brought out food.
Gushtásp reposed him for a while and ate,
Then went back swift as dust to Katáyún.
Since he had formed a friendship with Híshwí,
On whose discretion he relied, he used,
Whenever he went forth to hunt gazelles,
To give that friend two-thirds; the other third
Went to the chief or other village-magnate,
Lived in the closest bonds of amity.
There was a certain Rúman hight Mírín,
Rich, noble, wise, and prosperous withal.
He sent a message unto Cæsar saying:—
“A man am I of rank, wealth, and renown.
Bestow on me thy daughter Dilánjám,
And give thy name and crown new life through me.”
“No more such marriages for me,” said Cæsar,
“For Katáyún and that ignoble man
Have stayed me. Now who seeketh such alliance,
Or wisheth to exalt his head before me,
Must carry out some mighty enterprise
That folk may call him brave among the great;
So will he prove both famous in the world
And helpful to ourselves. Let such an one
Go to the forest of Fáskún and bathe
Heart, hand, and thoughts in blood. There will he see
A wolf as huge as any elephant,
Of dragon-form and mighty as the Nile.
It hath two horns; its tushes are like boar's.
The elephants themselves dare not approach it,
But they, the lions, tigers, and the brave
Among the people, all avoid the wood.
Whoe'er shall rend that wolf's hide shall become
My son-in-law, my comrade, and my friend.”
Mírín said thus: “Within this noble land,
Since first the Maker laid the base of Rúm,
Mine ancestors have ne'er engaged in combat
Unless with chiefs and with the massive mace.
Thus out of malice? I will practise craft,
And take all prudent counsel.”
So that worthy
Departed to his palace, and considered
The matter every way. He brought and set
Before him writings, tables of the stars,
And his own horoscope, and there he saw
Upon this wise: “At such and such a time
A famous man will come forth from Írán,
And by his hand three weighty enterprises,
That balk the chiefs of Rúm, will be achieved.
He will become the son-in-law of Cæsar,
A diadem on that imperial head.
Within the realm two wild beasts will appear,
Inflicting general calamity,
And both of them will perish by his hand:
He will not be afraid for all their might.”
Mírín had heard the case of Katáyún,
How she had mated with the bold Gushtásp,
And how Híshwí and that famed village-chief
Were both of them regarding him with favour,
So hurried to Híshwí, told what had passed
And of the wonders that philosophers
Of Rúm predicted would befall the land.
Híshwí replied: “Be pleased to tarry here
With us to-day in friendship and good will.
The man whereof thou speakest is a person
Illustrious mid the great, and all his days
He giveth to the chase, he heedeth not
The throne of him who ruleth o'er the West.
He came not yesterday to me to gladden
My gloomy soul, but presently will come
Back from the hunting-field and doubtlessly
His way will lie by us.”
He furnished wine
And boon-companions. Mid perfumes and flowers
They sat with golden goblets. Now when they
Had drained four cups that valiant cavalier
Appeared afar. The twain descried his dust,
And went to meet him on the field. Mírín,
“This man hath not his equal in the world!
He is a noble warrior by birth
To have such limbs, such neck, and excellence.”
Híshwí returned reply: “This noble man
Is lion-hearted on the battlefield.
His prowess, modesty, high birth, and wisdom
Surpass his looks.”
When he drew near, the twain
Advanced afoot dust-swift to welcome him;
Híshwí prepared a place where they might sit
Beside the water and then called in haste
To spread the board afresh and brought out wine
To have another bout with his new comrades.
When cheeks were flushed with rosy wine he thus
Addressed Gushtásp: “Great man! thou call'st me
friend
On earth, and knowest not another such.
Mírín the warrior—a man of name
And puissant—hath just appealed to me.
He is a scribe both learned and well-advised,
He taketh reckoning of the stars above,
Discourseth of philosophers of Rúm,
Of regions populous and desolate,
And furthermore is of the stock of Salm,
Can tell his ancestors from sire to sire,
And hath the scimitar that Salm was wont
To carry all his years. He is right valiant,
A gallant rider, and a hero-taker,
And bringeth down the eagle with his arrow.
He wisheth further to obtain distinction
By making an affinity with Cæsar,
To whom he spake; but when he heard the answer
His heart was verily perturbed thereby,
For ‘In the forest of Fáskún thou'lt find,’
So Cæsar said, ‘a wolf huge as a camel,
And if it shall be slaughtered by thy hand
Thou shalt be my most honoured guest in Rúm,
Then all the world will yield to me my rights.’
Now if thou wilt assist us I will be
Thy slave and he will be thy noble kinsman.”
Gushtásp said: “Good! Agreed. Where is the
forest?
What is this beast that frayeth small and great?”
“It is a savage wolf,” replied Híshwí,
“Whose head is higher than a lusty camel's.
It hath two tusks like elephant's, with eyes
Like jujubes, and a hide like indigo;
Its horns are like two beams of ebony,
And in its rage it will bear off a horse.
Upon this quest full many famous chiefs
Have gone with heavy maces, but returned
Successless, worsted, and with melting hearts.”
Gushtásp replied: “Bring me that sword of Salm's
Together with a noble, fiery steed.
I call that beast a dragon not a wolf,
Do thou too deem it so.”
Mírín departed,
And chose a sable charger from his stalls,
With costly mail and Rúman casque; he took
That splendid sword of diamond-sheen which Salm
Had tempered both in poison and in blood,
Chose also many presents from his treasures,
And five of every kind of precious jewels.
Whenas the sun had rent its pitch-hued robe,
And left its bower, Mírín, the ambitious one,
Departed from his palace in all haste,
And reached Híshwí just as Gushtásp returned
From hunting, and Híshwí observing him
Went with Mírín to welcome him. Both marvelled
To see his charger and his scimitar.
Chose for himself the steed and sword, and gave
Híshwí the rest which pleased his soaring soul.
Gushtásp arrayed himself as quick as dust,
And mounted on the charger with his bow
Upon his arm, his lasso at the saddle—
A noble cavalier and stately steed.
Híshwí went with him and Mírín withal,
The aspiring one, who had invoked his aid.
Their hearts were full, they hurried on and soon
Were hard upon the forest of Fáskún.
When forest and wolf's haunt were near, Mírín,
Who feared that fierce beast, showed Gushtásp its lair,
Then turned back with Híshwí, grieved, with full heart,
And weeping tears of blood. Thus said Híshwí:—
“We shall not see that noble man return.
Woe for that breast and arm and neck of his!
Woe for his courage, puissance, and mace!”
Now when Gushtásp was drawing near the wood
His warlike heart was full of anxious thought;
He lighted from his noble charger, prayed
Before the Master of the world, and said:—
“O holy Fosterer of all, who sheddest
Thy lustre o'er the processes of time!
Do thou assist me to o'ercome this beast.
Have mercy on the soul of old Luhrásp,
For if this monster, which the ignorant
Have termed a wolf, shall triumph over me,
My sire will wail when he hath heard the tidings,
Will never rest again but be distraught,
Like those that are insane, and everywhere
Be questing and lamenting; while if I,
I may not face the folk for very shame.”
He mounted, raised the battle-cry, and grasped
The scimitar of Salm; with bow hung ready
Upon his arm he made his way with caution
And throbbing heart till he was near the spot,
And then he thundered like a cloud in spring.
Now when the wolf beheld him from the wood
It sent a roar up to the darksome clouds,
And like a lion or a savage leopard
Tore with its claws the ground. Gushtásp, on seeing
The monster, took in hand and drew his bow,
And showering arrows from it swift as wind
He made it as it were a cloud in spring.
When wounded by the arrows of Gushtásp
The beast became yet fiercer for the pain.
It fell, but leaping to its feet came on—
A lusty monster—butting with its horns,
Stag-like, with smarting body and in wrath,
Closed with the charger, gored its sable loins,
And ripped it up from testicles to navel.
The atheling drew from his waist the sword,
Dismounted, smote the beast full on the head,
And clave asunder back and breast and shoulder;
Then in the presence of the Lord of beasts,
Lord of omniscience and of good and ill,
Made his thanksgiving to the Omnipotent,
And thus he said: “O Thou who madest fortune!
Thou pointest out the way to them that err,
And art the just, supreme, and only God.
We prosper and we triumph in Thy name;
All Grace and knowledge are at Thy disposal.”
He left the place of prayer, wrenched out the tusks,
Alone fared onward till he reached the sea
Whereby Híshwí was sitting and Mírín
In anguish, deep in converse of the past;
Their talk was of Gushtásp and of the wolf:—
“Woe for that brave and gallant cavalier
Now in his arduous fight and stained with blood
In that wolf's clutch!”
Whenas Gushtásp appeared
Afoot, all bloody, and with cheeks like flower
Of fenugreek, they rose with sad exclaims,
Embraced him mournfully, their cheeks all wan,
The lashes of their eyes like clouds in spring,
And cried: “How went thy battle with the wolf?
Our hearts were bleeding at thine enterprise.”
Gushtásp made answer saying: “My good friends!
Is there no fear of God in Rúm, that thus
A savage monster is allowed to live
Within the kingdom for a length of years,
Destroying all the people in its path,
And holding Cæsar as a pinch of dust?
But I have cleft it with Salm's scimitar,
So now all fear and dread for you are over.
Go and behold this wonder while yet warm,
See how the hide is rent upon the monster!
Thou'lt say: ‘There is a mighty elephant
Inside, as long and broad as is the forest!’”
Then both ran thither brightened by his words,
And saw the wolf as 'twere an elephant
With lion's claws and indigo in hue,
But cleft from head to midriff by the blow;
That one skin would have held two mighty lions.
Thereafter they invoked full many a blessing
Upon that glorious Sun of earth, and went
Glad-hearted from the wood, and came again
Before that Lion of the fight to whom
Mírín brought many presents, such as he
Naught but another steed and made for home.
When, journeying from the sea, he reached his dwelling,
Observant Katáyún came forth to him,
And asked: “Where didst thou get that coat of mail,
Because thou wentest out to hunt?”
He said:—
“A wealthy company from mine own city
Gave me this coat of mail, the sword, and helmet,
With many a greeting from my kith and kin.”
Then Katáyún brought wine as 'twere rose-water
For scent, and feasted with her spouse till bed-time.
The happy couple slumbered happily,
But constantly he started in his sleep,
While dreaming of his battle with the wolf
That seemed a lusty dragon. Then to him
Said Katáyún: “What aileth thee to-night
To be thus terrified when no one touched thee?”
He said: “I dreamed about my throne and fortune.”
Then Katáyún perceived that he was born
Of royal race—a king by heart and nature,
A grandee, but concealed the fact from her,
And would not look to Cæsar for advancement.
Gushtásp said: “Moon-faced one of cypress stature,
With silvern breast and odorous of musk!
Prepare for us to journey to Írán,
To journey to the dwelling of the brave.
Thou shalt behold those glorious fields and fells,
And therewithal the just and generous Sháh.”
“Speak not so foolishly,” said Katáyún,
“Nor rashly undertake such enterprises,
But have an understanding with Híshwí
When going. He may ferry thee. The world
Renewed its youth when he conveyed thee hither;
But I shall tarry here in longsome grief,
Not knowing how I shall behold thee more!”
No fire was needed, they were burned with sorrow;
Yet when the circling sun rose in the sky
The young folks, wide awake and full of hope,
Arose from that soft couch and questioned saying:—
“What aspect will the heaven wear for us,
And will the world prove harsh to us or loving?”
Mírín for his part went as swift as wind
To Cæsar, saying: “O illustrious lord!
Our losses by the wolf have reached an end,
The monster's body filleth all the forest,
And thou mayst see the wonder if thou wilt.
The beast attacked me with a furious charge,
And gat a sword-stroke from my hand, whereby
From head to midriff it was cleft asunder,
And terror filled the Dív's heart at the blow.”
The words made Cæsar heighten, his shrunk cheek
Glowed as he bade men go with wains and oxen
To fetch the wolf. They found the mighty beast
Cut down from head to midriff with the sword,
And when they haled it forth among the meadows
Thou wouldst have said the very hill-tops shook.
The world was there to gaze upon that wolf,
That wolf? That monstrous, fierce, and lusty dív!
When Cæsar saw the elephantine form
Of that fierce brute, he clapped his hands for joy,
And, summoning the bishop to the palace,
Bestowed his daughter on Mírín that day.
They wrote to the patricians, notables,
And prelates of the kingdom thus: “Mírín,
That Lion and that man of high degree
In Rúm, hath set it from that fierce wolf free.”
Was one—a chieftain younger than Mírín,
A man of haughty nature named Ahran,
Of brazen body and illustrious race.
He sent a message unto Cæsar saying:—
“O famous monarch! I surpass Mírín
In treasure, prowess, swordsmanship, and all;
Give me thy youngest daughter as my spouse,
And make thy realm and crown revive through me.”
But Cæsar said: “Thou surely must have heard
What I have sworn by Him that watcheth o'er us
That this girl shall not choose her spouse, but I
Will quit the custom of mine ancestors.
Thou must perform some action like Mírín's
That we may stand on an equality.
Infesting Mount Sakíla is a dragon,
Which is that region's bale the whole year through;
If thou wilt rid the land thereof, my daughter,
My treasure, and my kingdom are thine own.
It matcheth with the lion-quelling wolf:
Its venom-breath is Áhriman's own snare.”
Ahran replied: “I will perform thy hest,
And pledge my soul to execute thy will.”
Then to his friends: “The blow that slew the wolf
Was from the scimitar of one of valour.
How could Mírín accomplish such a deed?
But Cæsar thinketh one man like another.
I will go ask Mírín; that shifty one
May haply tell the shift that he employed.”
So to the palace of Mírín he went
Like dust, with one before him to announce him.
Mírín sat in a chamber, which the Moon
Throughout her orbit hath not one to match.
And crowned with an imperial diadem.
The servant said: “Ahran, the elephantine,
Is coming with a train of followers.”
Mírín thereat adorned his chamber more,
While all his worthiest servants went to meet
Ahran. Mírín, on seeing him, embraced him,
And then began to pay him compliments.
When nobody remained within the hall,
Save those two chieftains sitting on the throne,
Ahran said to Mírín: “Come tell me this,
And, whatsoe'er I ask, dissemble not.
My heart is set on making Cæsar's daughter,
Who is the chief princess of Rúm, my wife;
But when I asked him he returned this answer:—
‘First battle with the dragon on the mountain.’
If thou wilt tell me how thou didst destroy
The wolf thou wilt assist me mightily.”
Mírín was troubled and considered thus:—
“If I tell not Ahran what that young hero
Achieved, the matter still will get abroad.
The sum of manliness is being upright,
And dark, deceitful ways are cause for tears.
I will inform him. Haply that brave horseman
May lay the dragon's head upon its breast.
Ahran will be my friend and back me up,
Our enemies will only clutch the wind;
Then will we raise this horseman's heart in dust,
And this affair will for a time be hidden.”343
He thus addressed Ahran: “I will inform thee
About the wolf, but first of all require
A mighty oath that thou wilt not reveal
This secret night or day, but shut thy lips.”
Ahran accepted what Mírín proposed,
And swore the mighty oath. Mírín set pen
To paper, wrote a letter to Híshwí,
An atheling possessed of throne and treasure,
And just withal, demandeth Cæsar's daughter,
The youngest and the only one remaining,
In marriage; Cæsar maketh of the dragon
A snare to catch Ahran and take his head;
Ahran hath come to me to ask assistance,
And I, to help him, have revealed the secret
About the wolf and that brave cavalier,
Who, having done so well for me, no doubt
Will do as well for him too, will create
Two princes in the land, and crown two Suns.”
Ahran departed with the schemer's letter
And sought Híshwí. As he approached the sea
The veteran ran to meet him, welcomed him,
Received the flattering letter, loosed the band,
And said thus to Ahran: “Dost thou not know
That 'tis our friends who desolate our gardens?
A youth—an alien and a man of name—
Made his own life a ransom for Mírín,
And yet may not escape, strive as he will,
Against the dragon. Be my guest to-night,
Here set thy candle, and enjoy the sea.
When that fame-seeking hero cometh hither
To-morrow, I will tell him what thou wilt.”
They lit the surface of the sea with candles,
And called for wine and meat, till topaz dawn
Rose in the vault of lapis-lazuli;
A warrior-horseman coming in the distance.
As he drew near both went with joy to meet him.
Dismounting he requested meat and wine
From famed Híshwí who made all haste to say:—
“Rejoice, illustrious man, both day and night!
Behold this warrior of Cæsar's kindred—
The darling of the ever turning sky.
Not only is he of imperial race,
But he hath wealth, Grace, fame, and everything.
He fain would be the son-in-law of Cæsar,
And would have one to guide in that emprise.
He hath no equal save in Cæsar's kindred;
A youth is he with Grace and thews and stature.
He asked for Cæsar's daughter's hand in marriage,
And he was answered by a new expedient,
For Cæsar said: ‘Be thou a dragon-catcher;
If thou art of my race display thy prowess.’
Before the mighty men by night and day
No name except Mírín's is on his lips,
And only those will illustrate his throne
Who are in fame and fortune like Mírín.
Near is a lofty mountain, once a place
For mirth and feasting; now upon the summit
There is a dragon feared by all in Rúm.
It draweth down the vulture from the sky,
Up from the deep the savage crocodile;
Its poison and its fume consume the ground,
And all the region is unblessed by heaven.
Now if by hand of thine it should be slain
The deed would be a wonder in the world;
And if the sun revolve as thou desirest,
Thou with thy stature, form, and might of hand
Mayst lay that dragon with the scimitar.”
He said: “Go make a sword five cubits long,
Including hilt, toothed like a serpent's teeth
Upon both sides, and pointed sharp as thorn.
The sword must be of finely tempered steel,
Of watered metal and exceeding keen.
Provide me too a mace, a barded steed,
A gleaming glaive and royal garniture.
By God's victorious fortune and decree
Will I suspend that dragon from a tree.”
Ahran departed and prepared whatever
Gushtásp required of him. When all was ready
The hero mounted, and with his companions
Set forward. When Híshwí saw Mount Sakíla
He pointed with his finger, breathing hard,
And when the sun shot out its rays on high
He and Ahran turned and retraced their steps.
Gushtásp remained before the mountain-lair
Of that fierce worm and, having hung his helmet
Upon his saddle, thinking dragon's breath
And death but trifles, drew anear the mountain,
And gave a shout that made the dragon quake.
Now when it looked upon that lofty form
It strove to suck Gushtásp in with its breath,
While he rained arrows on it swift as hail,
And thick as petals from pomegranate-bloom.
The young man thrust his sword adown its jaws,
And called upon the Judge who giveth good.
The dragon gnashed its teeth upon the sword
Deep in its maw, while blood and venom flowed
And drenched the mount until the brute grew weak.
Then, scimitar in hand, the Lion clove
The dragon's head and strewed the rock with brains.
Dismounting next that lucky warrior
Prized out a couple of the dragon's teeth,
And thence departing washed his head and body;
Then as he wallowed in the dust he raised
His voice before the Lord, the Victory-giver,
Who had bestowed on him such mastery
O'er wolf and lusty dragon, saying: “Luhrásp
And glorious Zarír had had enough,
Both soul and body, of Gushtásp, yet I
By shrewdness, courage, and sheer strength have flung
A dragon such as this upon the dust!
My lot from fortune is but travail, hardship,
And bane spread out instead of antidote.
If the Omnipotent shall grant me life
To look once more upon the monarch's face,
Then will I say: ‘What hath the throne availed me?
I sought the throne and fortune disappeared.’”
With tearful cheeks he mounted on his steed,
Still grasping in his hand his glittering sword,
And coming to Híshwí and to Ahran
Informed them of that marvel, saying: “The dragon
Proved naught before this trenchant blade of mine.
Ye were afraid of that great dragon's breath,
And in the matter of the wolf, but I
Am more distressed by fight with valiant captains,
Exalted and equipped with massive maces,
That cometh from the depths to fight with me.
Seen have I many a dragon such as this,
And never turned my back thereon in fight.”
They heard him—young in speech but old in know-ledge—
And those two nobles came and reverenced him:—
“O Lion! never will be born of woman
One brave as thou. The Master of the world
Aid thee whose might hath done the deed for us.”
Ahran produced abundance of rich gifts,
With noble steeds caparisoned. Gushtásp
Accepted for himself a sword, a bay,
A bow, ten wooden arrows, and a lasso,
Bestowing everything that still remained—
New raiment and dínárs—upon Híshwí.
Gushtásp said: “Nobody must know this matter,
Or be aware that I have seen the dragon,
Or hearkened to the howling of the wolf.”
He went thence merrily to Katáyún.
Ahran fetched wains and oxen, and consigned
The carcase of the dragon to his servants.
He said: “Convey it unto Cæsar's court
In presence of the great men of the host.”
He went himself before the wains and oxen
To Cæsar. When they gat the news in Rúm
The veterans hurried forth and, when the oxen
Descended from the mountain to the plain,
A shout rose from the concourse at that stroke,
And that grim dragon burdening ox and wagon.
And not Ahran's own sword and scimitar!”
They brought forth from the palace Cæsar's throne,
And called the great and wise. Then o'er the dragon
They held high revelry from dawn till dark.
The next day when the sun had crowned the sky,
And when the teaks were gilded with its rays,
The bishop came at the command of Cæsar,
Who seated him upon the golden throne.
Then the patricians and the presbyters,
So far as they were men of any standing,
Assembled in the presence of the prelate,
Of Cæsar, of his veterans, and advisers,
To marry Cæsar's daughter to Ahran,
Her loving mother giving her consent.
Then Cæsar, after all the folk had gone,
Spake thus, his heart still thrilling with delight:—
“This is my day of days! High heaven illumeth
My heart, for none will see in all the world
'Midst great and small two sons-in-law like mine.”
They wrote a letter unto all the chiefs,
Possessing throne and diadem, and said:—
“The dragon fierce and towering wolf are slain;
Two mighty heroes' hands their lives have ta'en.”
In Cæsar's palace was a belvedere
As lofty as his own resplendent throne,
And on the riding-ground both sons-in-law
Were wont to entertain his gladsome heart
With polo, javelin-play, and archery,
And wheeling to display their horsemanship;
Thou wouldst have said: “They are consummate
riders.”
It came to pass at length that Katáyún,
Who always took the lead, came to Gushtásp,
Why is it that thy heart is plunged in grief?
There are two chieftains in the land of Rúm,
Enjoying treasures, crowns, and diadems;
One slew the dragon mid no little peril,
And never showed his back, the other rent
The wolf's hide; Rúm is ringing with his fame.
Now on the riding-ground these two send dust
To heaven! Go see, for Cæsar will be there:
It may perchance relieve thy melancholy.”
Gushtásp replied: “My beauty! what remembrance
Or interest can Cæsar have in me?
He keepeth thee and me outside the city,
How then should he be friendly if we meet?
Yet notwithstanding if it be thy counsel
I will not disregard it, O my guide!”
Gushtásp bade put the saddle on a steed
That rolled the earth up under it. He came
To Cæsar's riding-ground and watched the polo,
Then asking for a stick and ball he cast
The ball amid the throng and urged his steed;
The warriors paused, not one could see the ball,
His stroke had made it vanish in mid air!
How could the cavaliers recover it?
Not one was minded to renew the game,
The Rúmans' faces paled and all was din
And clamour. Then they turned to archery.
Some gallant cavaliers advanced, and when
Gushtásp the hero saw them, “Now,” he said,
“Must I display my prowess.”
So he flung
The polo-stick away and gripped the bow.
Both string and arrow were astound at him.
With such a grasp, such shoulders, and long stirrups,
He asked and said: “Whence is this cavalier,
Who wheeleth on such wise to right and left?
Full many noble warriors have I seen,
But never heard of cavalier like that.
Call him that I may ask him who he is—
An angel or a mortal seeking fame.”
They called Gushtásp to Cæsar whose ill mind
Was troubled. Cæsar said: “Brave cavalier,
Head of the proud and coronal of war!
What is thy name? Tell me thy race and country.”
Gushtásp made no reply concerning this,
But answered thus: “A wretched stranger I
Whom Cæsar drave aforetime from the city.
When I became his son-in-law he banned me,
And no one readeth on his roll my name,
For Cæsar treated Katáyún with harshness
Because of all the world she chose a stranger,
Yet only followed custom in the matter,
And was disgraced albeit she did well.
Within the forest that pernicious wolf,
And on the mountain that ferocious dragon,
Lost through my blows their heads, to which emprises
My prompter was Híshwí. The teeth moreover
Are at my house, the blows that my sword dealeth
Are proof besides. Let Cæsar ask Híshwí;
The matter is still recent, not outworn.”
Whenas Híshwí had come and brought the teeth
He told to Cæsar what had passed, who framed
His tongue to make apology: “Injustice
Is over, youth! Now where is Katáyún,
My well-beloved? Well mayst thou call me tyrant!”
Indignant with Mírín and with Ahran
He said: “Things cannot be concealed for ever.”
To ask forgiveness of his prudent daughter,
And said: “O pure, well-fortuned child of mine!
Thou art my right eye in the world. My heart
Hath no wish but for thee. I prithee ask
Of him who is thy husband and companion
To tell the secret of his home and kindred,
For otherwise he will not speak the truth
To us.”
She answered: “I have questioned him,
But never saw him on the skirt thereof.
He talketh not before me of his secret,
And he is reticent to every one.
He answereth not with candour to my questions,
And only saith: ‘My name is Farukhzád.’
But I suspect that he is nobly born,
For he is fond of fight and valiant.”
Then Cæsar parted palace-ward and heaven
Turned for a while with matters in this stay
Until the morning when Gushtásp, whose head
Was full of wisdom, rose and went to him,
Who, when he saw Gushtásp, was mute but gave him
A seat upon the famous golden throne,
Befitting princes, from the treasury,
And having kissed him placed it on his head,
Recounted his achievements in the past,
And said to those concerned: “Be diligent,
Both young and old! Do fully the commands
Of Farukhzád and not transgress herein.”
This order was dispatched on every hand
To all the ruling men throughout the land.