“Be wisdom wedded to the minds of kings,
For God is all-prevailing in the world,
And wicked is the world-lord that doth fear
Not Him. Our good and ill beyond all doubt
Will pass and not escape time's clutch. Whoever
Shall come to this our court and shall appeal
For justice to ourselves against ourselves,
At audience-time or midnight, shall receive
An answer to his plaint, for in that God,
Who giveth victory, hath granted us
The Grace and oped the door of conquering fortune,
My subjects all on mountain and on waste,
In city and at sea, shall share therein.
We do not ask for tribute from the world
For five years, saving from the man that saith:—
‘Sikandar's peer am I.’ We will bestow
Much wealth on mendicants, but ask not aught
From him that hath.”
At these his gracious words,
And at this union of his heart with justice,
There went up a thanksgiving from Írán
To that just-dealing monarch of the earth,
And then the assembly scattered, but the king
Sat on with his advisers, counselling.
Sikandar ordered that a scribe should come,
And called for reed of Rúm and silk of Chín.
The scribe, when he had made the kex a pen
Indited this epistle to the mother
Of Rúshanak: “The guerdon of the good
God grant to thee and mind-peace after pain.
Than is contained herein. What time the days
Of him who was thy spouse had reached their close,
And he was murdered by a servant's hand,
I buried him with royal obsequies,
And have accomplished all the days of mourning.
Oft-times before the war I sued for peace,
But he refused because his time had come.
His very foemen sorrowed for his blood.
May God receive him into Paradise,
The Just One give him place among the Saints,
And to his foes the bane of arrow-points.
None maketh shift to scape death's clutch; 'tis like
An autumn-blast, and we are as the leaves.
Now ye have all the world at your disposal.
Not few bear witness to Dárá's last wish,
How he gave Rúshanak to me, and said:—
‘Thou hast no equal to her in thy bower.’
So send her to me, and that presently,
Escorted by her guardians and her slaves,
And by the chiefs and nobles of Írán,
To bring the light upon my darkling soul.
Make Ispahán86
thine own as in the past,
Send out intelligencers everywhere,
And keep in office those just, modest men
Appointed by Dárá, son of Dáráb.
If ye would live not there choose where ye will,
The cities of Írán are all before you;
But be ye reconciled to me in heart,
And give me in the world the name Dárá.”
He wrote a letter too to Rúshanak,
And made the pen's point eloquent. He first
Gave praise to God, the Ruler of the world,
The Wise, the All-sustainer; then he said:—
“The stock of kings begetteth but men pious,
Attractive, well-advised, refined, and modest,
Men eloquent of speech and soft of voice.
Thy father gave thee to me; then he died,
And bare away with him a goodly name.
When thou arrivest hither, and beholdest
My bower and palace, thou shalt be my queen,
Chief consort, the adornment of my throne,
The lustre of my Grace, my name, and fortune.
A letter have we written to thy mother
To bid her send thee hither in a fashion
Befitting issue of the king of kings,
And with an archimage of Ispahán
Preceding thee, with servants of the crown,
With elephants and litters, and with her
Who gave thee milk and honey. Dwell within
Our house with joy—chief lady of the bower.
Now be high heaven circling to thy will,
Thy person far from foe and far from harm.”
Came, swift as flying dust-cloud, one well versed
In wisdom, and the world's king's words rehearsed.
And weeping for Dárá in tears of blood,
So that the dust beneath was saturate,
Called for a scribe and wrote a fair response
In well instructed terms and well inspired.
She first gave praises to the Omnipotent,
The Lord of counsel, peace, and excellence,
Then: “From the process of revolving heaven
Whence are strife, peace, and love, we used to ask
All Grace upon Dárá's behalf and made
His name the jewel of our tongues; but since
His day is over, and he is enthroned
Upon a coffin-board, it is for thee,
And thee alone, that I ask blessings, might,
With triumph, kingship, and the world's obedience;
I ask it openly without reserve,
For I have heard (may heaven joy in thy soul!)
What courteously thou hast conveyed to me
About the obsequies of Sháh Dárá,
How Máhiyár was gibbeted and how
Malevolent Jánúsiyár was punished.
Brief is his life that murdereth his master.
Thou hast sought peace, too, and passed many a day
In counsel. Service is not for the Sháhs,
And none expecteth thraldom in the great.
Thou'rt in Dárá's place, who was king of kings,
And as the Sun hath set thou art our Moon.
Since he that was the monarch of the age
Chose thee not one will dare transgress his rede.
Next as to what he said of Rúshanak,
That wish of his which made our heart rejoice:
She is thine handmaid, and we are thy slaves;
We bow our heads to thy command and will.
She sendeth greetings and hath writ to thee
A letter like the garth of Paradise.
We have, moreover, written to the magnates,
The frontier-chieftains and the men of war,
That thy commands are as Dárá's commands,
And none will swerve from fealty to thee.”
She gave the envoy purses, slaves, and treasures
Of all kinds. When that Rúman reached Sikandar,
And told what he had seen and heard of court,
Of precedents obtaining, and of throne,
Whereon thou hadst declared: “The Sháh still liveth”
Sikandar was rejoiced at what was said,
And placed the crown in peace upon his head.
Told her upon her coming what Dárá
Had said, and added: “Go to Dilárái,
And enter into gracious intercourse
With her, see Rúshanak within the bower,
And, having seen her, greet her on my part,
Take her a bracelet, earrings, torque, and crown
Of royal gems, a hundred mules with loads
Of tapestries and furthermore ten camels
With gold brocade of Rúm, and place withal
In purses thirty thousand in dínárs
Out of the treasury by way of largess,
And take with thee three hundred Rúman damsels,
Or more if more are needed. Give each one
A goblet worthy of a queen's fair handmaid;
Take servants to escort thee and forgo
No circumstance of royal etiquette.”
The mother of the Sháh, as he commanded,
Made ready and set off upon her journey,
With her interpreters escorting her—
Ten of the honey-tongued philosophers.
Now as she drew anigh to Ispahán
A crowd of nobles went to give her welcome,
While Dilárái came forward from the palace,
She and the magnates, as their custom was,
And gave such largess in the court that treasure
And money grew misprized. They held a conclave
Of counsellors within the palace; all
The chiefs attended: Dilárái the while
Prepared such wedding-gear that the bázárs
Looked busy everywhere, and league-long files
Of camels carried stuffs for clothes and carpets,
For hangings and for tapestries inwoven
With gold and silver thread, and diverse-hued.
There were such Arab steeds with golden bridles,
Such Indian scimitars with golden scabbards,
Surtouts and morions and bards withal,
With golden sparths and maces ponderous,
With stuffs for raiment cut or in the piece,
That no one in the world e'er looked on more;
Such aloe-wood, gris-amber, and pure musk,
As gave to enemies good cause to writhe.
They requisitioned servants from the palace,
And made them ready forty golden litters.
In one of them with parasol and slaves
Sat Rúshanak rejoicing. From the halls
Was all gold, jewels, horses, and attendants.
They raised triumphal arches in the cities;
All lips were smiling, all hearts full. They showered
Drachms on the bride's brocaded parasol,
And mingled overhead musk and dínárs.
When that Moon reached the Sháh's own bower
Sikandar
Much scanned her stately form and goodly face:
Thou hadst said: “Wisdom nurtured her on love.”
Whenas her mother set her on the throne
Of gold he poured out all his soul to her,
And passed a se'nnight in her company,
Conversing much with her, observed her shrewdly,
And saw in her but majesty and meekness,
Discretion, modesty, and fair behaviour,
So that his heart was joined to her in love.
Then all the paladins throughout Írán
Called blessings down on him as Sháh, and brought
Great gifts of gold and royal jewelry,
While justice o'er the world's whole face was spread,
And everywhere the waste inhabited.
A speaker of the tongue of days of old
A tale that thou wilt muse to hear thus told:—
There was in Hind a monarch, Kaid by name,
Whose sole pursuit was knowledge and advice;
He had a sage's heart, a prince's brain,
King's bearing and the Grace of archimages.
He dreamed a dream ten nights successively—
A portent: mark it well. The men of learning
In Hindústán, the mighty both in word
And lore, the sages and the counsellors,
Met at his bidding, and he told his dreams
At large without reserve; but every heart
Was full of deep concern, each visage wan,
For there was none that could interpret them.
Then said a sage to Kaid: “O sovereign,
Memorial of the great and man of wisdom!
There is a famous one by name Mihrán,
Who hath attained his fill of earthly lore.
He will not sleep or rest him in a city,
And liveth but with cattle of the field,
Subsisting on the herbs upon the mountains,
And not accounting us as fellow-men;
His home is with the onager and deer,
Apart from habitation and mankind;
Is he, and of high fortune.”
To the sage
Thus said king Kaid: “One must not overlook
This virtuous man.”
Moved by Mihrán's renown
He mounted then and there upon his steed,
While, lest he should grow downcast, men of lore
Escorted him. The monarch reached Mihrán,
Saluted courteously the sage, and said:—
“Thou devotee who with the mountain-sheep
Inhabitest the heights! hear thou with care,
And then interpret wisely, these my dreams:
Know that one night, O wise and holy man!
I slept in peace, unfrighted, undismayed,
No care at heart, no impulse in my head,
And in my chamber there was none with me.
Night's noon had passed, but dawn was not. I saw
A habitation like a vasty palace;
Therein a huge, fierce elephant. The dwelling
Showed doorless, but had one strait aperture
Wherethrough that savage elephant would pass
Uninjured by the straitness; its black bulk
Would pass therethrough, but leave its trunk behind.
Next night I saw the throne devoid of lord
Fair-fortuned, but upon the ivory seat
Sat one who donned the heart-delighting crown.
The third night came; I made me haste to sleep,
And dreamed that I beheld a goodly kerchief
Whereat four men tugged till their cheeks turned blue
With pulling, yet the kerchief was not rent,
Nor were the men fordone. Upon the fourth night
I saw, illustrious sage! a man athirst
Beside a stream. O'er him a fish kept pouring
The water, yet his droughty head was dry
Although the water followed as he moved!
How read'st thou this, good friend? Upon the fifth night
My mind dreamed of a city by the water.
The citizens though blind seemed none the worse,
For thou hadst said: ‘The whole place is afire
With liberality and trafficking!’
Upon the sixth night, honoured lord! I saw
A city, all whose citizens were sick,
And went to question those in health, who first,
Preventing them, inquired: ‘How came ye thus
With body aching and with heart o'ercharged?’
Sought of the healthy for a remedy.
When half the seventh night had passed I saw
A horse that grazed at will upon the plain;
It had two fore, two hind, feet, and two heads,
And cropped the grass off quickly with its teeth.
It grazed on both sides with its double mouth,
And yet its body was without a vent!
I saw upon the eighth night, holy man!
Three vases on the ground set all a-row,
Two filled with water but the central empty,
And dry for many a year. Two worthies tried
To fill it from the others whose contents
Were minished not by pouring while the dry
Remained with lip unmoistened. On the ninth night
I dreamed that I beheld a cow reposing
'Mid grass and water in the sun. A calf,
Small, gaunt, and wizened, with lack-lustre face,
Was standing just before her, and she sucked it!
The cow was lusty and the calf was weak.
If thou wilt lend thine ear to my tenth dream
Thou wilt not grow aweary ere I end.
Upon a spacious plain I saw a spring
With streams and dykes about it. All the champaign
Was watered yet the fountain-head was dry.
I prithee answer and reveal the future.”
Mihrán, when he had heard this thing from Kaid,
Said: “Be not sick at heart about this dream;
Thy fame shall fail not, ill not reach this realm.
Sikandar will lead forth a mighty host,
The chosen chieftains of Írán and Rúm,
And, if thou wouldst still rule, consort with wisdom,
And fight him not. Four things thou hast whose
equals
None, great or small, e'er saw. One is thy daughter,
Like Paradise above, through whom thy crown
Is bright on earth; the next thy privy sage,
Who telleth thee the secrets of the world;
The third thy worthy leech, most famed of doctors;
The fourth a cup wherein, if thou pour water,
That water will not heat for sun or fire,
No drinking minish it. These will defeat
All his endeavours, for when he shall come
Confide in these, and not in war, if thou
Wouldst have him gone betimes. Thou canst not face
His troops, his strategy, his realm, and treasure.
As wisely I advise thee so will I
Interpret these thy dreams. Thou didst behold
Passed elephant but left its trunk behind.
Now hear the rede of the interpreter.
Know that this dwelling imageth the world,
The elephant a thankless king, unjust,
False in his words, and royal but in name,
A man of mean heart and of feeble body,
Keen in his greed and gloomy in his soul.
At length, when he shall pass away, his name
Abideth in dishonour in the end.
Thy second dream concerning crown and throne,
Which one man voided and another gained,
Illustrateth that this inconstant world
Removeth one and speedeth up another.
As for thy third dream of that goodly kerchief,
Clutched by four righteous men yet never rent
Though they that tugged thereat were never weary:
Hereafter there will come a man renowned
Forth from the desert of spear-wielding horsemen,
A holy, virtuous man by whom the Faith
Of God will come to be four-square, and, know,
'Tis imaged by that kerchief, while the four
That tug thereat tug in safe-guarding it.
One Faith is the Dihkán's who worshippeth
The Fire, and taketh not the sacred twigs
Save with a muttered prayer.95
Another one
Is that of Moses, which thou call'st the Jew's,
Who saith: ‘None other should be praised’; another
That of Yúnán,95a
a good Faith making just
The great king's95b
heart; and, fourth, the Arabian,
Pure and exalting from the dust the prudent.
Four parties thus assuming to be guardians
Tug at the kerchief in their several ways,
And, as they pull against each other thus,
Antagonize for their religion's sake.
Then, fourthly, for the droughty man who shunned
Sweet water which a fish threw after him:
A time will come when holy men will be,
Just like that fish, despised as having drunk
Of wisdom's stream; but evil-doers' heads
Will be exalted to the Pleiades.
When one shall call the thirsty to the water
None wisely will respond, but all will shun
The wisdom-seeker and combine to curse him.
In thy fifth. dream thou sawest a busy city.
The burghers spent their lives in feasting, largess,
And trafficking, but ‘Fortune,’ thou hadst said,
‘Had sewn their eyes up so that none could see
When wise men will be slaves to ignorant,
Who will despise the erudite and these,
Their tree of wisdom fruiting not for them,
Will laud, and openly commend, the witless,
Though conscious of their own hypocrisy,
And that such service is inglorious.
As for the sixth dream, when the ailing sick
All went to question those in health: a time
Will come wherein the wretched mendicant
Will be misprizèd in the rich man's eyes,
And turn in his resourcelessness to any
Possessed of goods, who will not give him aught,
So that he will become a wageless servant,
Or else a slave without the purchasing.
As for the ventless and two-headed steed
Of thy seventh dream: a time will come when men
Will joy in wealth and never have enough.
The beggar, student, and celebrity
Will get no share from them, for they will think
Of no one save themselves and help not any.
As to thine eighth dream of two vases brimming,
And one left wholly void, two vases filled
With lucid water, and the middle one
All dry and moistureless: a time will come
Wherein the poor will grow so weak and wretched
That, though the clouds of springtide, charged with
showers,
Shall hide the sunshine from the mendicant,
Those very showers not e'en then will descend
On him, and he will be heart-stricken. The rich
Will lavish gifts among themselves and bandy
Their honied compliments while beggars go
With droughty lips and so pass day to night.
As for the ninth wherein a lusty cow
Sucked its lean calf: when Saturn entereth Libra
The world will be beneath the strong arm, poor
And sick fare ill, and yet the well-to-do
Will still exact from them, will never open
Their own hoards, nor abate the others' travail.
In thy tenth dream thou sawest a fountain dry,
With waters all about it savouring musk,
Yet no clear stream of water bubbled forth,
And sped to mingle with those other waters.97
A time is coming when the world will have
A king that is devoid of understanding,
A king whose dark soul will be full of dudgeon,
The whole world gloom beneath his tyranny,
And never good be found among his treasures.
To win his crown new fame, but in the end
This monarch and his hosts will pass away,
And there will be a change of dynasty.
But our time is the epoch of Sikandar,
Who is the crown upon the heads of nobles.
Upon his coming give him these four things;97a
Methinketh not that he will ask for more,
But, when thou dost content him, pass thee by,
For he is diligent to learn and wise.”
Kaid, having heard the matter from Mihrán,
Regained the vigour of his former years,
Came, kissed the sage's head and eyes, and went
His ways triumphant, happy, and content.
Now when Sikandar had surveyed Írán,
And knew that crown and throne were his, he led
His host toward Kaid of Hind and, road or none,
Pursued his march, while as he went along
The people of the cities on his way
Unbarred their gates to him. In all that coast
He found none worthy to be called a man,
And raised his helm o'er Venus. On approaching
The mighty city, named by valiant Kaid
Mílád, they called a scribe and seated him
Before Sikandar who, like lion lusting
For quarry, wrote to Kaid: “This from Sikandar
The mighty and victorious, the lord
Of scimitar, of crown, and belt.”
The letter
Began with praises of the man that laveth
His heart with knowledge, “for in his desire
To eat the fruitage of his toils he chooseth
The easiest course, adoreth holy God,
And trusteth, feareth, reverenceth Him,
While knowing that we top the throne and are
The Shadow of the all-conquering Lord. Now I
Have written thee a letter to enlighten
Thy darkling mind; so when thy scribe shall read it
Lay it not out before thee and consider,
But, if it come by night, wait not for day,
And do my will forthwith. If thou shalt slight
My words so will not I, but trample down
Beneath my feet thy throne and head and crown.”
He interviewed the great king's envoy, praised
And favoured him exceedingly, assigned him
In courtesy a seat upon the throne,
And said: “I joy to do the Sháh's behest,
And alway will be true to him; but still
That one so great as I am should set forward
So quickly and unreadily would please not
The Maker and the monarch of the earth.”
Then calling for a scribe, for pen of Chín,
And silk of Hind, he wrote at once an answer,
And decked it like the garth of Paradise.
He gave, first, praises to the Omnipotent,
The Lord of victory and time, the Lord
Both generous and just, the Lord of manhood,
Of sense and prowess; then: “The good man's head
Will turn not from the great, illustrious king,
Nor are we well advised in keeping aught
From him who hath the army, crown, and sword.
Four things have I that none else in the world
E'er hath possessed in public or in private,
And after me none will possess the like.
These, if the Sháh shall bid me, I will send
To give new vigour to his heart and rule,
And afterward, if he commandeth me,
Will come and slave-like do him fealty.”
The envoy came as swiftly as the wind,
Told all that he had heard, and gave the letter.
Sikandar said to him: “Go to, return
To that famed man, and say: ‘What things are these
That none e'er had in public or in private,
For we ourselves have seen whatever is,
And heaven will not create afresh?’”
The envoy
Went from the presence, journeyed swift as fire,
What things they are that no one else possesseth,
For seeing is believing.”
When he heard,
Kaid cleared the court and sat with his advisers
In council, set the envoy in his presence,
And courteously entreated him, then said:—
“I have within my bower a daughter such
That if the sun on high should gaze on her
'Twould gloom contrasted with my darling's face.
Her locks are lassos of one hue with pitch,
Milk savoureth on her lips, a cypress-stem
Is crooked to her, she scattereth pearls in speech,
Her looks and countenance make wisdom fly,
Yet 'tis the food of her discourse. When silent
She is the soul of modesty, and none
Hath seen her peer in this age. Sprung from chiefs,
And pious, she is chaste of heart and modest.
I have a cup which thou mayst fill with wine,
Or pour therein cold water, and although
Thou sat'st with boon-companions for ten years
The wine would fail not; whether wine or water
The cup affordeth thee, the marvel is:
No drinking draineth it. My third possession
Is this: a youthful leech who diagnoseth
Disease by making a uroscopy.
So long as he is at the court the Sháh
Will never ail; and, fourthly, I possess,
Though privily, a sage who will foretell
The Sháh all that will chance from circling sun
And shining moon.”
The noble messenger
Withdrew, made wind his mate, came and informed
Sikandar, and the heart of the world-king
Bloomed like a rose. He said: “If what is spoken
Be true could this world purchase all the four?
Kaid will illume my dark soul if he send them.
His country 'neath my feet I will not tread,
But with this good will hie me home instead.”
The Sháh made choice of Rúmans learnèd, wise,
And well disposed, then wrote a letter all
Excuse and perfume, colour and device:—
And in my confidence, wise men and modest,
Endowed with Grace and counsel, shrewd observers,
Learned and directing, lo! I have dispatched thee:
They will not deviate from thy shrewd counsels.
Exhibit those four wonders unto them,
And suffer them to stay with thee awhile.
When I receive the letter of mine ancients,
Those men expert and erudite, to say:—
‘The four things—those whose like none e'er beheld—
Have passed before our eyes,’ I will indite
A patent drawn on silk to this effect:—
‘Kaid, while he liveth, is the king of Hind.’”
So those ten Rúman sages left Sikandar,
And sped to Kaid who, when he saw those chiefs,
Had much to ask of them and heard their answers,
Received them graciously and lodged them featly.
Next day, when heaven grew pallid and the sun
Drew forth its sword of battle, they adorned,
Although the moon requireth no adornment,
The monarch's daughter, and within the palace
Set up, and decked with ornaments of Chín,
A golden throne whereon she sat sun-faced,
Outshining Venus in the sky. The sages,
Those ancient men, fair-spoken and observant,
Drew near. The monarch sent them to the bride,
As bade Sikandar, son of Failakús.
The ancients, seeing the king's daughter's face
Illumining the palace, crown, and throne,
Were lost in wonder and astonishment;
Feet failed them at the sight. They stood stock-still,
Their tongues all busied with the praise of God,
Unable to withdraw or look elsewhere,
Till one arrived to call them, since they lingered,
Before the king, who said: “Why such delay?
The owner of that face is but a human,
Endowed with goodliness by every star.”
A Rúman answered: “None, O king! beholdeth
A picture like her in his halls; so now
We each of us will send the Sháh a letter
Describing somewhat of the lady's charms.”
They all sat down with paper, ink, and pens.
Each wrote what he had noted, covering all
The paper with his words; then from102
Mílád
They sent in haste a horseman to Sikandar,
Had written some description of the lady.
He wrote to them and said: “Ye have done well,
Ye ancients! ye have looked on Paradise.
Return with those four things and ask naught else.
When ye have given the patent unto Kaid
Make ready for the way and load the beasts.
No man henceforth shall do him injury,
For I have found him just, and that sufficeth.”
The envoy quitted that green country-side,
And to those Rúman ancients' presence hied.
Now when those sages heard their Sháh's reply,
Brought by the toilful cavalier, they went
Forth from their palace and approached king Kaid,
And his famed court. The king of Hindústán,
When he had read the answer to his letter—
The message of the imperious world-aspirant—
Joyed to be free from trouble with Sikandar,
And chose withal a hundred men of Hind
Of honied tongue and eloquent, unlocked
Hoards not by him amassed, and chose therefrom
Crown, throne, and armlet, and of gems withal,
And raiment in the piece, all that was best.
They brought three hundred camel-loads of raiment,
And royal jewelry; ten of dínárs,
And five score all of drachms; there was withal
A splendid litter of green aloe-wood,
Inlaid with gold and gems. Kaid placed gold thrones
Upon ten elephants and on another,
More splendidly caparisoned, the Beauty,
Who was escorted by the sage and leech,
And showered tears of blood. A magnate bare
The cup, whose wine made all the chiefs bemused.
When that Moon reached the royal women's house
There was a crown of black musk on her head;
She had let fall her tresses o'er her cheeks,
Like mail o'er cercis-blossom, and appeared
A slender cypress 'neath the full orbed moon.
To twin narcissi grown in Paradise.
Thou wouldst have said: “She is compact of charms.”
Sikandar gazed upon her stately form,
Her hair, her face, and all from head to foot,
And said: “Behold the Lustre of the world!”
While privily invoking benisons
Upon the All-just, the Maker of the sky,
Who had created such a form and face.
He gave command, and all the men of lore,
And understanding, in the host of Rúm
Sat by while he demanded her in marriage,
The which he solemnised with Christian rites,
And showered dínárs upon her from above
Out of his hoards till scarcely she could move.
The matter of the Cypress-tree104
achieved,
And an abode fit for her rank prepared,
The Sháh was free to find out how the sage
Would come off in a strife of wits, and so
He sent a large bowl all abrim with ghee
To that redoubtable philosopher,
And said: “Anoint thy limbs herewith, loins, waist,
Breast, back, and neck withal, repose thyself
Till thou hast shaken off thy weariness,
Then fill for me my mind and brain with knowledge.”
The sage, when he beheld the ghee, observed:—
“This should not prove a mystery to me!”
He placed a thousand needles in the bowl,
And then returned it to the sovereign,
Who, when he saw them, summoned privily
A smith and bade him melt them to an ingot,
And fashion out of it a disk. Sikandar
Dispatched this to the sage who furbished it,
And sent back in the place of that dull iron
A mirror free from rust and luminous.
They took this to Sikandar in the night,
Who, saying naught, exposed it to the wet
Till it grew dark and dull; then he returned it,
And thus prolonged the riddle of the iron.
The sage refurbished it to brilliancy,
And sent it back forthwith, but first applied
That which would prove preservative from damp.
Sikandar, seeing, called to him the sage
And, greetings done, assigned to him a seat
Below the throne, then spake about the bowl
Of ghee to further test that famed man's wit,
Thou said'st: ‘I pass the sages of the state
In knowledge.’ I replied: ‘O mighty Sháh!
A man that is both wise of heart and pure
Will like a needle pierce both feet and bones,
Or e'en a stone if one is in the way.’
I said in fact to thee: ‘My goodly speech,
My heart and soul and prudent purposes
Make use of words still finer than a hair,
And thou hast not a heart more dense than iron.’
Thy answer to me was: ‘In bygone years
My heart grew rusty in the midst of bloodshed.
How shall the gloom depart, for why should I
Continue thus distraught?’ I answered thee:—
‘I will refurbish by celestial wisdom
Thy heart if it becometh malcontent,
And when it shineth with a brilliant lustre
How shall it rust again?’”
His goodly words
Found favour with the Sháh whose heart grew keener
By dint of the procedure of the sage.
He ordered that the treasurer should bring
A robe, gold, silver, and a vase of gems.
These they presented to the sage who said:—
“I have a privy jewel of mine own,
Which is both brighter and immune from foes,
And not, like wealth, the mate of Áhriman.
I need not hire a watchman for the night,
And when I go abroad I fear no thieves,
Since in the night-time knowledge is my warden,
And wisdom my soul's crown when it is waking,106
For wisdom, knowledge, right, are necessaries
Since error knocketh at the door of loss.
The Sháh will see that I have food and raiment
Enough for public and for private uses;
Why should I joy in superfluities,
And have to safeguard all this wealth? Command
To carry back these havings, and may wisdom
Direct thy soul.”
Sikandar mused at him,
And turned the matter o'er, then said: “The Lord
Of sun and moon will find me not in fault
In future since I have thy counsel, rede,
And useful talk.”
He bade the leech approach
That judged diseases by uroscopy,
And asked: “Who is the greatest sufferer
Whose pangs compel our tears?”
The leech replied:—
“The glutton, one without restraint at table.
Excessive food conduceth not to health,
And great is he who maketh health his aim.
Now will I gather herbs from every side,
And will exhibit unto thee a medicine,
Thine appetites will greaten too, and when
Thou eatest much it will not injure thee.
Heed thou my skilled advice, then blood and brain
Will wax in thee, thou wilt grow strong of frame,
Thy heart will be as blithe as jocund spring.
'Twill bring back colour to thy face and make
Thy judgment sound in all, thy flowing locks
Shall turn not grey, not soon shalt thou despond.”
Sikandar said: “I have not seen or heard
Of any king thus favoured, but if thou
Produce this noble potion thou wilt be
My guide to good, and I with mine own soul
Will purchase thee. The malice of thy foes
Shall harm thee not.”
Sikandar got prepared
A robe of honour and fair gifts for him,
And made him chief among the learned physicians.
That suasive leech departed to the mountains
Without attendants. With his ample knowledge
He could distinguish bane and antidote,
And, having gathered many mountain-herbs,
And put the worthless by, chose such as were
Medicinal, and out of these compounded
The needed potion. With these mountain-simples
He purged the Sháh and kept him sound and whole,
So that for nights he slept not but enjoyed
Society, affected much the Fair,
And sought their soft embraces till he ailed,
Because he tendered not himself, and so
One day the leech came, by uroscopy
Detected signs of decadence, and told him:—
“Youths surely age by intercourse with women:
Methinketh that for three nights thou hast slept not;
Speak unto me and give me a reply.”
Howbeit Sikandar answered: “I am well:
None of the ills of life is troubling me.”
Yet still the approven leech of Hindústán
Would not admit the matter to be so,
But sought that night among his books, and mixed
A medicine against that decadence.
That night Sikandar had no lovely mate.
The leech, when morning came, found him alone,
And, having ended the uroscopy,
Flung down the potion, sat in high delight,
And, taking in his hand a goblet, bade
The board be spread and wine and minstrels ordered.
The draught that thou hadst mixed so carefully?”
He said: “Last night the world-lord sought no mate
But slept alone, and when thou sleepest thus
Thou needest, sire! no draught.”
Sikandar smiled,
Delighted with the leech, to whom he said:—
“Ne'er may this world lack Hind, for thou wouldst say
That all the leeches and astrologers
Flock thither.”
Calling for a purse of gold,
And for a sable steed whose reins were hung
With golden balls, he gave that skilled leech both,
And said: “Be honest rede thy tongue's companion.”
Then bade he, and they brought the golden goblet
Brimmed with cold water. All folk drank thereof
From morn till bed-time as in revelry,
But all the drinking did not minish it.
Then to the sage the Sháh said: “Kaid hath not
His equal in the world, and from this time
No longer shall we speak of Hindústán,
But Jádústán,109
as being Kaid's abode.
The people are no more than other folk
In looks but wonderful in tricks and magic!”
Then said the Sháh to that philosopher:—
“This knowledge must not be concealed from us:
How is the water in the cup renewed?
Is it the stars or Indian jugglery?”
“Despise not, sire! the cup,” the sage replied,
“For they were many years in making it,
And labours underwent in that behoof.
From all the provinces the astrologers,
Where'er there was a master known to fame,
Assisted Kaid, when fashioning the cup,
Both day and night, and passed full many a day
In noting all the aspects of the stars.
Take thou the loadstone, that wherewith a man
Attracteth iron, as an illustration.
This cup by innate force attracteth water,
Receiving fresh additions from the sky.
It catcheth water to replace the waste
Too quickly for man's eyes to follow it.”
The Sháh, on hearing that wise man's discourse,
Approved thereof; he thought the words of profit.
Thus said he to the elders of Mílád:—
“I will observe the compact made with Kaid
In honour while I live, for he is one
Before whose presence other folk should stand.
Since I have gotten from him four such things
We will not ask for more.”
Now afterward
Sikandar set the goods that he possessed,
With all the treasures that he had amassed,
Upon two hundred carriers and stored
All, with dínárs and jewels in the rough,
Upon a mountain. When they vanished there
None saw again what was reposited;
From that time forward no one e'er beheld
That treasure and the men that hoarded it.
Sikandar only knew where, hid from sight,
Were laid those treasures on the mountain-height.110
Sikandar swift as wind marched from Mílád,
Abandoning his treasures, reached Kannúj
And, having led his army near to Fúr,
Bade write to him a harsh and hostile letter
As from Sikandar, king of kings, the son
Of Failakús, the illuminer of knowledge,
Of weal and woe, to Fúr, the king of Hind,
High-starred, and chief of Sind.
First praised he God,
Who hath been and will be for ever. Then:—
“With one whom He hath made victorious
Realm, crown, and throne will last, whom He despiseth
Will be still wretched, and the sun on high
Will shine not on him. Surely thou hast heard
What in this darksome earth all holy God
Hath given to us of victory and fortune,
Grace, diadem, and throne of king of kings,
But not for long: our day will pass; another
Will come and be partaker of these fruits,
And so I strive to leave an honoured name
In this small circle compassed by the Moon.
When they deliver this possess thy soul,
Thine unenlightened soul, with what is right,
Exchange thy throne of greatness for thy steed,
Advise not with the priests, thy counsellors,
But ask immunity from us, and practise
No craft because the crafty labour long.
If, in thy pride and thine audacity,
Thou wilt not do my bidding thou shalt rue
Thy dallying when with my cavaliers
I come to fight with thee.”
When thus these words
Had been indited, and the scribe had done,
They sealed the letter with Sikandar's signet,
And for the journey chose a prudent envoy,
Who reached the court of Fúr and held discourse
At whiles of strife, at whiles of feast and revel.
They summoned to the king that man discreet,
And by the throne appointed him a seat.
Against that famous magnate and forthwith
Wrote fiercely in reply, and set a tree
Within the garth of vengeance. He began:—
“'Tis ours to fear and reverence holy God.
We will not speak so many empty words;
The boaster is a man without resource.
Art thou so shameless as to summon me?
Is wisdom to thy mind so light a thing?
If Failakús on this wise wrote to Fúr
Do thou begin too and provoke a quarrel!
But 'tis Dárá who thus hath heartened thee,
Because of him revolving heaven was weary,
And when good fortune goeth from a race
They heed not the advice of counsellors.
Thy strife with Kaid was but a merry-make;
Thou thinkest kings thy prey. No such address
Or words proceeded from the ancient Kaians.
Fúr am I and the son of Fúr. We take
No thought of Cæsars. When Dárá asked help,
And I perceived his heart and fortune failing,
I sent him mighty elephants and gave him
Words of encouragement. When he was slain
By that slave's hand the Íránians' fortunes fell,
And when earth's face was franchised from Dárá
That trenchant bane became thine antidote.
Why lose thy head because bad ministers
Ill-treated him? Talk not of war so proudly,
Because with me it is another story.
Thou shalt behold my mighty elephants
And host, which bar the wind, confronting thee.
Thy whole aim is supremacy, thy nature
One rust with Áhriman. Do not thou sow
The seed of harshness in the world, but be
In fear of misadventure and the ills
Of fortune. In this letter 'twas my part
To seek thy welfare and instruct thy heart.”
Chose from the host chiefs fit and enterprising,
Young but mature in wisdom, and led forth
To war against that Indian such an army
That all the earth seemed sea, and thou hadst said:—
“Sikandar is sole monarch in the world.”
But all those mountains, seas, and rugged paths
Quenched in the soldiers' hearts the flame of war
The troops were all aweary of a march
By roads so grievous, steep, and profitless.
Once at a stage they gathered round the Sháh
And said: “O Cæsar and the lord of Chín!
Earth is not able to sustain thy host.
Not Fúr of Hind, not the Faghfúr himself,
Or king of Sind, will seek to fight with thee.
Why must thou bring disaster on thy troops
By this vile country and by such a road?
We see no sound steed left whereon to fight
With vigour, and if e'er the troops turn back
From warfare neither horse nor foot will find
The way. When we have triumphed hitherto
It hath been o'er an army of our foes,
But now we are opposed by seas and mountains,
And none of us is weary of his life.
Convert not all our glory into shame;
None hath made war with water and with rocks.”
The words displeased Sikandar, and in wrath
He frustrated their scheme. “Such words,” thus said
he,
“Befit but mutineers. What time I marched
From Rúm Íránward we beheld all garden
And settlement, our Rúman slain reached not
A hundred, and our costs were small. Írán
Is yours. What better could ye ask of God?
Ill came upon Dárá from his own slaves;
No one of you hath seen one weak or wounded!
I will proceed without you and set foot
Upon the Dragon's heart. Come what come may
Of fight and feast henceforth ye shall behold me
Abandon not for good my task with Fúr.
What time I quit him I will march to Rúm,
And by my valour overcome the land.
I ask not I a Rúman to befriend me.”
On seeing that their words enraged the Sháh
The troops sought to excuse themselves, and said:—
“We all are Cæsar's slaves, we only walk
The earth to do his hest, will strive, and when
Our horses fail will foot it to the field
Of strife. Though foes make earth sea with our blood,
And valleys into mountains with our fallen,
None in the day of fight shall see our backs
Though sea and mountain-crag contend with us.
We all are slaves, and it is thine to bid:
In thy calamities our lives are thine.”
Sikandar, hearing this, prepared fresh strife,
And chose a hundred thousand of Írán,
Equipped for war. Behind were Rúman captains,
All clad in mail, and stalwart warriors.
Thus forty thousand veteran cavaliers
Marched in support of the Íránians.
Succeeding these came mounted men world-taking,
And falchion-brandishers, from Misr. Then Cæsar
Chose from the men of Rúm, Misr, and Barbar
Twelve thousand cavaliers efficient, martial,
For battle eager all and all renowned,
So that with this array supporting him
The dales and plains seemed heights! He took withal
Of readers of the stars and priests three score—
Wise men well known to fame and veteran—
To choose the days for battle.
When Fúr heard:—
“A host hath come” he picked his battle-field,
And all his troops assembled on the plain;
The earth was mountain-like with elephants.
The army stretched four miles with troops behind
And elephants in front.
Now spies arrived
From Hind before the world-lord and informed him
At large of how the elephant contendeth
In warfare: “It will rout two miles of horse.
No cavalier will dare to face that beast,
Or, if he did so, ever come again,
Because its trunk is higher than the air,
And Saturn is its helper in the sky.”
They drew a picture of an elephant,
And showed it to Sikandar who commanded
That the philosophers of Rúm should model
One out of wax for him, and then inquired:—
“Who can propound a scheme to cope with such?”
The sages held a session and devised
A plan in all its details. Then the Sháh
Of Misr, and Párs, twelve hundred men in sum,
Who made a horse, with saddle and with rider
Complete, of iron, fastening the joints
With bolts and rivets. Horse and man were furbished.
They charged it with black naphtha, and then ran it
On wheels before the troops. At sight thereof
Sikandar was well pleased for, being wise,
He felt the gain thereof, and bade to make
A thousand such and more: who e'er beheld
On chargers dappled, chestnut, black, and grey
An iron host? The matter took the month,
And then the workmen rested from their labours.
Thus led they forth on wheels an iron host
That of all things resembled horsemen most.
Now when Sikandar was approaching Fúr,
And from afar one host beheld the other,
On both sides rose the shout and dust of battle,
And eager for the fray the warriors
Advanced. They lit the naphtha in the steeds:
Fúr's troops were in dismay. The naphtha blazed:
Fúr's troops recoiled because those steeds were iron,
Whereat the elephants, when their own trunks
Were scorched, fled likewise, and their drivers marvelled.
Thus all the Indian host and all those huge,
High-crested elephants were put to flight.
Sikandar like a raging blast pursued
The foe until the air turned indigo,
And opportunity for fight was over.
The monarch with the Rúmans in full force
Dismounted 'twixt two mountains and sent scouts
On all the roads to guard his host from foes.
Now when the ingot of the sun's crown showed,
And all the world became as 'twere white crystal,
There rose a blare of trumpets and the sound
Of fife, of cornpipe, and of kettledrum.
Both hosts made ready for the fray and raised
Their spear-heads to the clouds. Sikandar came
And sent a cavalier to cry from far
To Fúr: “Sikandar hath come forth and seeketh
An interview with thee. He is prepared
To name his own conditions and hear thine,
And if thy terms are just he is amene.”
When Fúr, the Indian, heard the herald's words
He rushed forth from the centre of his troops.
Sikandar said to him: “O noble man!
Our two hosts have been shattered by the fight,
The wild beasts batten on the brains of men,
The horses' hoofs are trampling on their bones.
Now both of us are heroes brave and young,
Both paladins of eloquence and brain,
Why then should slaughter be the soldiers' lot,
Or bare survival after combating?
Let us two arm ourselves and fight it out
Since one of us must needs obtain the realm.
When one of us hath proved victorious,
The troops, the crown, and throne all will be his.”
Fúr joyfully agreed to fight Sikandar,
For well he knew that he had lion-strength,
And rode a charger dragon-like, whereas
Sikandar was a reed-like cavalier,
Armed lightly and ill-mounted, so he said:—
“Agreed: we will engage in single combat.”
Both took their swords and wheeled between the lines,
But when Sikandar realised the bulk
Of that mad Elephant, who rode a Mountain
And grasped a Dragon, he grew dazed in fight,
Despaired of life at heart and kept his distance,
Till, as he wheeled with Fúr upon the field,
A mighty shout arose behind the host,
Which filled Fúr's heart with dudgeon and distracted
His heart and eyes and ears. Then like a blast
Sikandar issued from the dust and smote
The hero with his sword, clove crest, head, neck,
And from the steed the body sank to earth.
The Rúman army raised its head to heaven,
The warriors charged. Now Fúr possessed a drum
Of lion-skin whose sound rose o'er the clouds.
That drum's din and the trumpets' blare arose,
Earth turned to iron, air to ebony,
While by that token those brave troops of Hind
Advanced to face their foes, but from the plain
Was proclamation made: “Ye righteous men,
The chiefest of the realm of Hindústán!
The head of Indian Fúr is in the dust,
His elephantine form is cloven asunder.
Such strife of scimitars, and such reluctance?
What Fúr was to you is Sikandar now,
And ye must look to him in fight and feast.”
The warriors of Hindústán assented;
They went and saw Fúr's head all dust and blood,
His body hacked up by the scimitar.
A bitter cry ascended from his troops,
Who dropped their weapons and went grieved and
wailing
To Cæsar, dust upon their heads. Sikandar
Restored the weapons of the warriors,
Addressed them with all courtesy, and said:—
“Though Fúr of Hind is dead ye need not yield
Your hearts to grief because I will entreat you
More graciously than he did, I will banish
Both fear and anguish from them, and will give
In largess all his treasures. To my troops
These are forbidden. I will make the folk
Of Hind all wealthy and administer
The crown and throne with vigour.”
Thence he mounted
With mingled feelings to the throne of Fúr.
So is it with this Hostel by the way!
It never is content to let thee stay.
Enjoy, leave naught for other folks to take;
Why shouldst thou labour for another's sake?
For two months Cæsar filled the throne and lavished
Fúr's whole wealth on his troops. There was a man
Of parts, Sawurg by name, a mighty chief
Of Hindústán; to him Sikandar gave
The throne of kingship. “Never hoard dínárs,”
He said. “Give and enjoy whate'er thou gettest,
Not glorying in the fleeting crown and throne,
For whiles it is Sikandar and whiles Fúr,
Whiles pain and wrath, whiles feast and banqueting.”
Bestowing as a present on his host
Drachms and dínárs he ordered all that coast.
Now in a little while, when all the troops
Were satiate of wealth, a sudden impulse
Came on Sikandar, and he greatly longed
To journey to the Kaaba. So at dawn
The drum-roll rose,119
the air grew like the eye
Of chanticleer, while all the mass of spears,
And silken pennons, formed a canopy
Of yellow, red, and violet.119a
Sikandar
To look upon the house of Ibráhím,
Who bare no little toil to build that shrine,
Which God hath named Baitu'l Harám, and there
Thou hast His perfect Way who calleth it,
By reason of its purity, His house,
And thither summoneth His worshippers,
Though needing not the world, or any place,
Or food, enjoyment, rest, or blandishment;
But still, since place had being, that hath been
A place of worship—God's memorial.
Sikandar then drew near to Kádisí,
World-conquering up to Jahram of Párs.
When news of him reached Nasr, son of Katíb,
Who was the Grace and ornament of Mecca,
He went to meet the Sháh with warlike chiefs,
And valiant, spear-armed cavaliers. Meanwhile
From Mecca sped a horseman to Sikandar,
And said: “The famous chief now on his way,
But not in quest of treasure, crown, and host,
Is sprung from Ismá'íl, the prophet, son
Of Ibráhím, the favoured of the stars.”
When Nasr arrived Sikandar welcomed him,
Assigning him an honourable rank.
Nasr, joying, told Sikandar of his race,
And of his secret purposes. He answered:—
“Good-hearted chieftain, speaker of the truth!
Who, next to thee, is greatest, most esteemed,
And honoured in the tribe?”
Nasr said: “O world-lord!
Khuzá' is master here. When Ismá'íl
Had passed away Kahtán, the monarch, came
With mighty hosts of swordsmen from the waste,
And seized the country of Yaman unjustly.
Of our race many guiltless folk were slain,
So that the day was over for our tribe.
Now this displeased the Maker of the world;
High Heaven frowned upon Kahtán: but when
He was reduced to dust Khuzá' appeared,
Unjust, audacious, and tyrannical;
All from Harám120
up to Yaman is his,
His angle is within the sea of Misr.
He hath transgressed from justice and the way,
And hath no thought of goodness in his heart,
The world is in his clutch, the hearts of all
The race of Ismá'íl are full.”
On hearing,
Sikandar slew such scions of Khuzá'
As he could find and scalped them, sparing none
Of friend or foe, delivering Hajáz,
And therewithal Yaman, from the oppressor
By policy and by his warrior-swordsmen,
All that were worthy of supremacy.
He visited afoot Baitu'l Harám;
The seed of Ismá'íl rejoiced in him.
At every step of Cæsar's pilgrimage
His treasurer showered dínárs. The Sháh, when he
Returned and reached the throne, bestowed on Nasr
Dínárs and treasure while the mendicant,
And they that lived by toil, grew free from want.
He led his army thence with all dispatch,
And came to Judda. He abode not long,
But bade the soldiers build abundant ships
And transports, and departed with his host
For Misr. The monarch there was named Kabtún;
His troops exceeded all imagining.
On hearing that a conquering king had come
Forth from Harám vaingloriously, he went
To meet him with a numerous retinue,
Slaves, purses, crown, and throne. At sight of him
Sikandar joyed, and all his foemen's words
Proved wind. The Sháh abode a year in Misr
To rest himself and troops.
There was a lady,
The queen of Andalús, and she was wise,
Ambitious, bounteous, with a countless host,
Famed and victorious through her own deserts,
And named Kaidáfa. From her warriors
She chose a cavalier, a clever draughtsman,
And said; “Go to Sikandar, naming not
This country and ourselves, mark everything
Minutely—his appearance, stature, court;
Then make a full length picture of him, showing
His favour, face, and bearing.”
When he heard
He mounted, girt him to perform her bidding,
And went in courier-wise from Andalús
To Misr to eminent Sikandar Cæsar,
Observed him both upon the throne and saddle,
Brought paper out and implements of Chín,
And, having limned him to the life, returned
With all dispatch. Kaidáfa, when she saw
Sikandar's likeness, grieved, concealed her feelings,
Sighed, and thus said: “By war and policy
This man will trample on the world, and brief
While for his part Sikandar asked Kabtún:—
“Who is Kaidáfa's peer on earth?”
“O king!”
He made reply, “she is unique. None knoweth
The number of her troops without at least
Much searching of the muster-roll. In treasure,
In matters courteous and of obligation,
In counsel and benevolence of speech,
Thou wilt behold not in the world her equal.
She hath a city that is built of stone;
A leopard could not wrest it from her grasp.
The ground it covereth is four leagues long,
And four leagues wide withal. If thou inquirest
About her treasure 'tis past measuring:
Her doings in the world are no new thing.”
Sikandar, having heard that mindful man,
Bade come a scribe. They wrote on silk a letter:—
“This from Sikandar, who o'erthroweth lions
And taketh cities, unto wise Kaidáfa,
Whose name is eminent in majesty.
First, praise be to the Master of the sun,
Who lighteth up the moon and turning sphere,
The Lord that meteth justice out aright,
And granteth more than any one can ask. …
We have not sought thy throne by violence,
But have respected thine exalted state.
When they deliver unto thee this letter,
And light is thrown upon thy darkened counsels,
Thou wilt dispatch what we impose as tribute,
As knowing that thou canst not strive with us.
To act thus will be wise and provident;
It will be strength in thee and true religion;
Oppose and thou wilt see but change of fortune.
Draw thy conclusions from Dárá and Fúr;
Thou needest go no further for instruction.”
Whenas the wind had dried the superscription
They sealed the letter with a seal of musk.
A cameleer sped to that famous queen,
Who marvelled at the letter as she read.
In answer, first, she poured her praises forth
“To that just Judge, the Maker of the earth,
Who raised the turning sky and set therein
The seat of good and ill. He made thee victor
Thy head hath been elated by success
Against those famous swordsmen; but dost thou
Rank me with them or think by conquering me
To wear my crown when I surpass them all
In Grace and greatness, troops and royal treasure?
Shall I obey a Cæsar, fear his threats,
And quail? A thousand thousand warriors
Are at my gate, and kings are in command
Of each contingent. Called I all my lieges
My land would not afford them room to camp,
While treasures wait my chiefs when they go forth
To war across our marches. What vain words
Thou speakest in thus crowing o'er Dárá!”
This 'neath her golden signet-ring she past,
Then sent a cameleer swift as a blast.
Sikandar, having read the queen's reply,
Let blow the brazen trumpets and set forth.
When he had been one month upon the road
He reached the marches of Kaidáfa's realm,
Where reigned a monarch who was named Faryán,
Possessed of treasure, troops, and puissance.
He had a city well supplied with arms;
No crane had seen the summit of its walls.
He gathered troops and garrisoned that hold,
And cavaliers patrolled the ramparts round.
Sikandar bade the bishops124
bring their wains
And catapults, and in a sennight took
That lofty hold; his noble army entered,
As did Sikandar who forbade all bloodshed.
One of Kaidáfa's sons, the son-in-law
Of king Faryán who had much joy in him,
Was there within. To him Faryán had given
A favourite daughter, and his crown had been
Exalted by the queen. The son-in-law
Was named Kaidrúsh and he was all in all
To king Faryán for whom the sky decreed
Death in the fight; his daughter and her spouse
Were taken by the hands of one Shahrgír.
Sikandar, knowing who the spouse was, thought:—
“What cure is there for this contingency?”
Bade his wazír to come and gave to him
Authority and crown and throne. This sage
Of influence, to whom Sikandar said:—
“They will produce the wedded pair before thee,
And I will title thee Sikandar, son
Of Failakús. Assume the Kaian throne,
And, when I come before thee girt for service,
Bid some fierce deathsman to behead Kaidrúsh;
Then I will come to thee and intercede,
Exhibiting the lowliest submission;
Make thou the audience private and, when I
Am waxing urgent, grant me my request.”
The minister was troubled, knowing not
What was the hidden purpose of the Sháh,
Who added: “We must keep this secret. Call me,
Like other envoys, talk much of Kaidáfa,
Send me right gladly with ten horse, and say:—
‘Go to, take this, and bring an answer quickly.’
Dispatch Kaidrúsh with me and hide all from him.
Naitkún said: “I will do so and will practise
Deception at thy bidding.”
When the sun
Had drawn its sword at dawn, and gloomy night
Had vanished in dismay, Naitkún assumed
The throne, but ill at ease, ashamed, and sorry;
Sikandar stood before the presence girded.
They shut the door and oped the path of guile.
Now when Shahrgír brought in Kaidáfa's son,
A captive weeping with his wife beside him,
And clinging to his hand in all her charms,
Naitkún spake hastily: “What man is this
Whose pains enforce such tears?”
“Be calm,” replied
The youth, “because I am Kaidáfa's son,
Kaidrúsh. Save for this daughter of Faryán's
I have no spouse concealed behind my curtains.
I went to bring her home to cherish her
As mine own life, but now the lion-taker
Hath ta'en me prisoner. The stars have smitten
My soul, and shafts my body.”
When Naitkún
Heard what the young man said he was distressed,
His heart grew full; howbeit he showed anger,
And then addressed the deathsman: “Earth must hide
them.
Behead them with thine Indian scimitar—
The husband and his consort in their bonds.”
Then came Sikandar, kissed the ground, and said:—
“O Sháh of Cæsar's race! if thou wilt spare
The blood of this young couple for my sake
My head will be exalted o'er the people.
Why in thy wrath behead the innocent,
For God will not approve thee?”
Shrewd Naitkún
Replied: “Thou hast preserved the blood of both.”
Then added quickly: “Thou hast saved thy head,
Kaidrúsh! when thou hadst lost it! Now will I
Send him with thee to tell thy mother all.
If she shall send me tribute, it is well,
And none shall burst his skin on that account.
Tend well my worthy minister, for he
Will proffer unto her a fight or feast
With me. Repay him for his kindliness,
For good men's hearts are moved by gratitude,
And, when he hath the answer of the queen,
Dismiss him kindly on his homeward way.”
Kaidrúsh replied: “My heart and eyes and ears
Are his. Oh! how shall I express myself?
I tender him as dearly as my life
Because I owe him that and world and wife.”
Sikandar chose ten Rúmans, men of name,
All confidants who would respect his secret,
And said to them: “While we are on our way
Call me Naitkún.”
Kaidrúsh led on; Sikandar,
Put trust in him. The chieftains spurred like fire,
And reached a mountain where the rocks were crystal.
Upon it there were fruit-trees of all sorts,
And on the top they noticed grass in plenty.
They left this mountain and kept speeding on
Toward the country where Kaidáfa dwelt,
Who cagerly heard tidings of Kaidrúsh,
And went to meet him with a mighty host,
All men of name and favoured by the stars.
He, when he saw his mother, lighted down,
And did obeisance, but she bade him mount.
They rode, hand clasped in hand. Kaidrúsh described
All that he had gone through and paled in telling
His troubles in the city of Faryán,
Where he had lost crown, army, throne, and treasure.
The man that cometh with me,” he proceeded,
“Preserved me and my consort from Sikandar,
Who else had given orders to behead me,
And burn my corpse in fire. Do what he wisheth
With right good will and thwart not his request.”
Her heart was overset by that affliction.
She summoned from the palace to her presence
The envoy, placed him in the nobles' seat,
Gave him much greeting and a kindly welcome,
Assigned to him a splendid residence,
And sent all kinds of provand, robes, and carpets.
He tarried there that night and at the dawn
Went to the court to offer his respects.
The attendants raised the curtain and allowed him
To enter through the portal on his steed.
When he beheld Kaidáfa on her throne
Of ivory, crowned with a crown of gems
And turquoise, and arrayed in robes of Chín
Inwrought with gold, the attendance of her servants,
Her face bright as the sun, her throne supported
By crystal feet, and o'er her robe a net
Of onyx of Yaman on golden thread,
Impleached with many a gem, and slaves, with torques
And earrings, standing in that rosary128
All arabesqued with gold, he stood astound,
Oft times invoking to himself God's name.
To Cæsar, gazing on that court, Írán
And Rúm seemed even as nothing, and he kissed
The ground like other courtiers in her presence.
Kaidáfa gazed on him, received him well,
Much questioned him, and made him sit. Now when
Bright Sol set, and the audience-time for strangers
Had passed, she gave command to deck the palace
And call attendants, and for harp and wine.
They ranged in one hall tables made of teak
With gold stars and designs in ivory,
Meats were provided past all reckoning,
Wine was brought forth and, when the eating ceased,
And gold and silver cups were handed round,
The company drank first Kaidáfa's health.
That noble queen gazed often at Sikandar
Amid the revel till at length she bade
The keeper of her treasures: “Bring to me
The lustrous silk with that delightful portrait,
Just as it is, and handle it with care.”
He brought it to the queen, who scanned it much
And, having scrutinised Sikandar's face,
Found the presentment just, so that she knew:—
“'Tis Cæsar, chief of yon famed army! He
Hath made himself his own ambassador,
And boldly reached this court. Imperious sir!”
She said to him, “come give Sikandar's message.”
Thus charged me in the presence of his nobles
To say to pure Kaidáfa: ‘Here below
Ensue naught but the right. See that thou shun not
My bidding but observe shrewd fealty,
For if in aught thou art perverse in heart
I will lead forth a host heart-shattering,
Rob all thine army of the breath of life,
And give up all thy kingdom to the flames.
I had some intimation of thy virtues,
And therefore was not instant to assail thee,
For thou possessest modesty and wisdom;
Thy shrewd rede is the world's security.
Thou knowest that if thou refusest tribute
Thou canst withstand me not; but thou shalt have
Naught that is not both fair and just if thou
Wilt turn from falsehood and from fraud.’”
Kaidáfa
Was wroth thereat but saw no salve but silence,
And said to him: “Return to thine abode,
And for the present rest there with thy friends.
To-morrow when thou comest we will answer,
And take fair order for thy homeward way.”
Thereat Sikandar went back to his lodging,
And thought all night how to secure himself.
Now when the bright Lamp rose above the mountains,
And plain and upland glittered like brocade,
He went to court again with smiling lips,
But heart o'ercast with care. The chamberlain
Saw, greeted him, and took him to the queen.
He saw a throng of strangers and a hall
Where was a crystal throne with patterns traced
In emeralds and cornelians, every boss
A royal gem. The dais was compact
Of sandal and lign-aloe, and the pillars
Of onyx and turquoise. The edifice,
The queen's Grace, throne, and puissance much amazed
him.
He cried: “This is indeed an audience-chamber!
God's worshippers behold not such another.”
He paced toward her, and they set a seat
For him below the throne. Kaidáfa said:—
“Why marvel at our palace thus, Naitkún?
Is Rúm indeed so other that thou needs
Must wonder at our land?”
He said to her:—
“O queen! misprize not thine own dwelling-place.
Thy head is higher than the heads of kings
Because thine ocean is a mine of gems.”
Kaidáfa smiled: his speech and conduct charmed
her.
She then dismissed her court and, having seated
The envoy graciously before her, said:—
In fight and festival, in good and ill.
Thou hast approached me boldly to ask tribute,
Although I know not what incited thee.”
On hearing this Sikandar's favour changed;
His soul was full of pain, his cheeks were livid.
He said: “O most wise queen! such words as these
Become thee not. I thank the All-provider
That none of all our famous chiefs are here
To tell this to the master of the world,
And take my life anon. Naitkún am I,
O mistress of the world! so call me not
The son of Failakús.”
Kaidáfa said:—
“Dispute it not because thou art Sikandar,
And, when thou seest the portrait of thyself,
Cease to dissemble and display no wrath.”
She brought and showed to him the silk all limned
With that fair portrait and so vividly
That, given motion, it had been himself.
He bit his lips; day grew for him like midnight.
He said: “Let no one be without a dagger
Concealed about him!”
“If thou hadst one here
Suspended from thy shoulder,” she replied,
“No strength or trenchant scimitar would serve;
There is no room for fight or road for flight.”
Sikandar said: “The great are eager ever
To win the world by valour, and must shun not
The path of danger, for the faint of heart
Excel not. Had I but my weapons now
The whole house would become a sea of blood,
And I, confronted by mine enemy,
Would rend my liver's seat or slaughter thee!”
Kaidáfa, smiling at Sikandar's bearing,
His gallantry, and angry words, replied:—
“O monarch lion-like! become not headstrong
In valour. It was not through Grace of thine
That Fúr of Hind, Dárá son of Dáráb,
And all those warriors of Sind were slain,
But 'twas because those world-lords' day was over,
And thy star in the ascendant. Thine own valour
Hath made thee so presumptuous as to deem
Thyself the lord of time and earth, but know
That all our blessings are derived from God.
So while thou livest give the thanks to Him.
I do not look upon thy words as true.
What profit hath thy wisdom been to thee
Since thou hast come within the Dragon's breath,
And, while still youthful, hemmest thine own shroud
By going as thine own ambassador?
But bloodshed or a reckless strife with kings
Is not my wont. The ruler who is strong,
And justly generous, is wise withal,
For, know, the shedder of king's blood will see
But fire at last. Be easy, go rejoicing,
And in departing make a new departure,
For henceforth thou wilt do no embassies
Since all the earth will recognise Sikandar.
I know not any of the great whose portrait,
Limned thus on silk, is not in my possession,
And in a careful keeper's hands, and I
Have used the judgment of astrologers
Thereon to learn if I should trust or dread,
For when a prudent king hath been vouchsafed,
The age proclaimeth it to man and woman.
Thee will I call Naitkún while thou art here,
And by that token seat thee at a distance
That none may know thy secret, hear thy name,
Or fame. I will dismiss thee with all kindness
But thou must be a master of discretion,
And, further, promise never more to be
A foe or ill-disposed toward my sons,
My kingdom or my kindred or allies,
And treat me as thy peer.”
Sikandar heard
And joyed, relieved from fear and slaughter, swore
By that just Judge, who ruleth all, the Faith
Of Christ, and by the sword of war, and said:—
“So long as thy dominions, thine own sons,
And potentates allied to thee, endure
I will do naught but what is good and right;
I will not think of fraud or knavery.”
When he had sworn Kaidáfa said to him:—
“I must not fail to warn thee of one thing:
Know this then that Tainúsh my son misprizeth
My knowledge and my counsel. He is wayward,
Fúr's son-in-law, and must not hear from near
Or far that thou art one skin with Sikandar,
Or friend withal, for he would fain avenge
Fúr and in battle dash down heaven to earth.
Return now to thy house in peace and joy,
And utter naught about the world's concerns.”
Sikandar went, his heart was big within him,
For wise men think of death with seriousness.
And never disregarded he her counsel.
He stayed that night and early in the morn
Went from his lodging and approached the queen,
Who sat within the hall of audience,
Surrounded by a crowd of warriors.133
The ceiling was of ivory and gold,
And in the gold were divers jewels set.
In front of all the musky-scented throng
Before the queen there stood two proper sons;
One was Tainúsh, the cavalier, the other
Kaidrúsh who used to hearken to her words.
The younger son spake to his mother thus:—
“O queen well favoured of the stars and just!
Take order that Naitkún glad, well content,
And with a guide, may leave thee, so that none
May harm or treat him as a foe, forwhy
He saved my life, and as bright life I hold him.”
She said: “Mine actions shall increase his great-
ness.”
Then to Sikandar spake that noble queen:—
“Now make the secret patent to us. What
Hast thou to say? What is Sikandar's purpose?
What knowest thou about the Sháh, and whom
Hath he for minister?”
Sikandar answered:—
“Great lady! I have tarried long. The Sháh
Said: ‘Go, ask tribute from her land. If thou
Delayest I will lead the army thither,
And leave her not the kingdom, crown, and throne,
Grace, queenship, might, or fortune for her own.’”
Tainúsh, when he had heard Sikandar's words,
Raged like a blast, and said: “Thou worthless fool!
No man could reckon thee a man at all!
Know'st not before whose presence thou art seated?
Assume the bond slave's pose!135
Thy head is full
Of wrath and arrogance. Inform me who
Thy monarch is. Save for our sovereign's Grace
I would pluck off thy head as I would pluck
An orange from its bough. This very night,
Because I grieve for Fúr, will I display
Thy trunkless head in presence of the host!”
His mother called to him, for his hot head
Was growing more distraught, and said: “The words
Are not his own! Address the envoy's sender,
Whose utterance they are.”
She bade: “Conduct
Tainúsh outside the court. Thou scowling one!”
She added, “show not thy vile temper here.
He saved Kaidrúsh, thy brother, from the Sháh,
And reached our court, and yet thou railest thus
Against him and art wroth and sore displeasured!”
The son went forth fulfilled with rage and dudgeon,
With bloodshot eyes. In private to Sikandar
She said: “Tainúsh is foolish and the tool
Of dívs. In private he must not devise
Some loss or crime. Thou seekest after knowledge,
And thou art wise. Consider what to do.”
Sikandar said: “So be it then. Thy course
Is to recall Tainúsh.”
Thereat the queen
Sent for her son and set him 'neath the throne.
Sikandar said: “Imperious prince! if thou
Wouldst have thy wish command thyself, and I
Will not oppose thee. I accept each word
Of thine. Sikandar, who is Sháh and hath
The throne and crown, hath plunged me into gloom.
He sent me to the queen with this command:—
‘Ask tribute from that famous sovereign,’
So that whatever ill grow manifest
From foes toward him may come on me. Hear, prince
Rage not nor storm—another's due—at me,
For much have I been wronged by him myself,
And I have schemed to slay him. To thy hands
Will I deliver him, and then the world
Will be well quit, and I fare free, of him.
Thou know'st not yet my plan and what good thoughts
I harbour. I will go to him to-day
With my reply and will advise him finely!
If I shall grasp his hand and from his camp
Conduct him to thee, and in such a fashion
That he shall have no troops with him, and thou
Shalt look not on his scimitar, his throne,
And crown, then what wilt thou bestow upon me
Of all the realm, how recognise my service?”
Tainúsh thereat made answer: “I have heard
Thy words, and we must act thereon forthwith,
For if thou shalt achieve this, and wilt do
Thine utmost honestly, I will bestow
His treasures and his purses, steeds, and men—
Devoted lieges—and my thanks upon thee;
Thou shalt possess the world, know good, become
My loyal minister, and in this land
Sikandar rose and shook
Hands on the bargain, and Tainúsh inquired:—
“How wilt thou compass this and by what spell
Effect this sorcery?”
Sikandar said:—
“Thou must go with me, when I quit the queen,
And take a thousand horsemen of thy host,
All famed in fight. Upon my journey hither
I marked a wood where I will put in ambush
Thee and thy soldiery, and go myself
To him, will look on that malignant soul,
And say: ‘The queen hath sent so much that thou
Ne'er wilt want more. Her elder son, Tainúsh
By name, hath brought the Sháh her salutations
And messages, but saith: “I dare not face him
Amidst his host.” Now if my lord would deign
Escorted only by his priests and sages,
To meet Tainúsh then in that interview
He could receive the goods and hoarded treasures
Of all sorts, for Tainúsh would come, on seeing thee
Without thy host, or else be free to go.’
Sikandar, when he heareth my smooth words,
Will never guess my colour and design.
But seek the shade beneath those trees, requiring
From thee those crowns and thrones. Do thou sur-
round him
With thy fierce troops and make the future certain;
This will achieve my vengeance and thy wishes,
And thy fame soar by favour of the stars.
When thou hast taken him I am all thine,
And, when thou biddest, I will be thy watchman.
Then mine affairs will prosper and my market
Grow hot and brisk, for thou shalt carry off
Much wealth and slaves and steeds caparisoned.”
Tainúsh rejoiced on hearing him, appeared
A noble cypress-tree, and answered thus:—
“My hope is that his day may turn to night,
And that he may be taken unawares
Within my toils, for all the bloodshed made
By him within the world—that of Dárá,
Son of Dáráb, the warriors of Sind,
And that great man of Hind, the valiant Fúr.”
Now when Kaidáfa heard Sikandar's words,
And marked and understood his stratagem,
She smiled at his device behind her lips,
And hid those corals underneath her veil.
Sikandar left her presence in a mood
O'ershadowed by his great solicitude.
And, when the sun displayed its fringe of Chín,
And set its golden banner o'er the heights,
While sank night's silken robe of violet,
He visited the queen and asked for audience
From her attendants. As their custom was
They caused him to alight, and then that seeker
Of world-dominion paced before the queen.
They cleared the hall and hastened to present
The envoy. When he saw Kaidáfa throned
He said: “May Jupiter espouse thy counsels!
By Christianity, the law of right,
By God who witnesseth to what I say,
By the religion of the mighty Cross,
By a brave monarch's life and head, priost's girdle,
And Holy Ghost,138
I promise that henceforth
The soil of Andalús shall not behold me,
Nor will I send a host to battle thither.
I will employ no colourable ruse,
I will entreat not ill thy stainless son
By act or hest of mine, but bind true faith
To thee upon my soul and no wise seek
Thine injury. Thy friend shall be my brother,
Thy throne as sacred to me as the Cross.”
Kaidáfa marked his oath, his singleness
Of heart, and honest pledge. She had the palace
Filled with gold seats, and set forth gauds of Chín,
Called for her nobles and the well-starred chiefs,
Set them, each one, upon a seat of gold
And, having sent for both her well-loved sons
And for her kith and kin, harangued them thus:—
‘It is not well that we be over-troubled
Within this Wayside Inn, and changeful fortune
Must make not battle and revenge my lot.
Sikandar still will be insatiate
Of treasure though he over-top the sky,
And for that reason seeketh war with us
Though all earth's treasures are not worth the toil.
I purpose that we do not fight with him;
I will not bring distress upon the realm;
But we will make a politic response,
At once exalting and exhorting him.
If after mine advice he seeketh war,
lgnoring both my Glory and my throne,
I with the host will face him so that sun
Will do no harm, and peace may be preserved.
What say ye? What respond? Advise me well.”
The chiefs all raised their heads and answered her:—
“O queen of counsel and of justice! none
Can call to mind a chief like thee, and thou
Speak'st naught but good. Oh! fair befall the land
That hath a chief like thee! If this great Sháh
Become thy friend, what more can good men wish?
The Sháh will not attack thee for thy wealth;
To vex thee would cost more than all thy treasures.
When a Sikandar cometh out of Rúm,
Converting earth to ocean with his sword,
And then departeth from thy gates with gifts,
The fact outvalueth the whole world's havings.
We cannot favour any course but peace,
For he is foolish that desireth war.”
When she had heard the words of those wise men,
Of those approved and holy-hearted priests,
She oped her treasures and took out the crown
Worn by her sire, with bracelet and gold torque
(It was a crown the value of whose gems
None in the city or the country knew),
And to the messenger she said: “This crown
Is priceless; those that others have are naught,
And, seeing that Sikandar hath deserved
This crown of chiefs, I have adopted him
As son adult.”
Now she possessed a throne
That was compact of seventy parts and more;
Well gifted he that could dismember it!
The pattern was of intricate design,
And every juncture fitted curiously;
The feet had terminals of dragons' heads.
None knew its jewels' worth, but it comprised
Four hundred royal gems, an equal sum
Of brilliant rubies, two whereof, in hue
Pomegranate-grain, weighed one miskál apiece,
And emeralds four hundred, several stones,
Bright as a rainbow, and uncut. She added
Of raiment more than forty camel-loads;
The lady's heart was bounteous as the sea.
There were five hundred tusks of elephants;
What tusks they were! Their total length reached
miles!
There were four hundred leopard-skins and more,
The sort brought from Barbar; of dappled deer-skins
A thousand plain or dyed, all fair to see,
Besides a hundred hounds keen in the chase,
Which sped like arrows over hill and plain.
Kaidáfa's servants then led forth before her
Two hundred buffaloes; there were withal
Four hundred seats upholstered in brocade
And silken stuffs, the frames of ebony,
With sunbeams saturate and golden hue.
She ordered too a thousand Indian swords
With daggers and with coats of battle-mail,
While from the plain they brought a hundred steeds,
High-bred and harnessed, with the other wealth,
Besides twelve hundred casques and morions.
She bade her treasurer: “Now, tarry not,
Account for all these to Naitkún, and say:—
‘Be ready to depart at dawn to-morrow.’”
Whenas the morning showed its flag on high,
When heaven's violet face grew camphor-like,
When earth was fresh and height like sandarac,
A sound of drums rose from the palace-gate.
Sikandar, having leave to go, bestrode
His steed and, when the brave Tainúsh had bidden
The troops to mount, proceeded from his palace
To court, and to Kaidáfa said: “Farewell,
And, while the world shall last, may it and thou
Be woof and warp.”
They journeyed stage by stage
Until they drew anear the scene of action—
The camp of that famed Sháh, the fortune-favoured
Sikandar, who left baggage in the forest,
Where there were streams and many trees, and told
Tainúsh: “Here rest and, rested, take the cup
In hand. I will depart, make good my words,
And do all for the best.”
Sikandar reached
The encampment. All the host came forth and showed
Their gladness by their shouts, while making ready
The Kaian crown, because they had despaired
Of their aspiring lord. Who ever thought
To see his face again? With tongues all praise
The soldiers bent their faces to the ground.
Sikandar then selected from the host
A thousand of the Rúman men of name,
Who, warriors as they were intent on strife,
With ox-head maces and in coats of mail,
Set forward and begirt the wood about—
A line of men and weapons. Then he cried:—
“Rash man! art thou resolved on fight or flight?”142
Repenting of his plots and cleverness
Tainúsh quaked and exclaimed: “High-minded Sháh!
Thou shouldst choose rather to be praised than blamed.
This was not thine agreement with my mother.
Didst thou not say: ‘I will not quit the right’?
Display, as in the instance of Kaidrúsh,
True greatness and endeavour righteousness.”
Sikandar said: “O prince! why hast thou grown
So feeble in this weighty enterprise?
I will not harm one of thy kin or shun
Kaidáfa's bidding I! 'Tis ill for kings
To break their faith.”
Tainúsh forthwith alighted,
And kissed the ground, displaying deep abasement.
The world-lord grasped his hand and reaffirmed
The former covenant, and said withal:—
“Be of good cheer and harbour no suspicions.
I feel no hate toward thee. When thy mother
Sat on her throne of gold, and when I clasped
Thy hand in mine, I told thee: ‘I will lay
The king of earth's hand thus within thine own.’
This very day my promise is performed,
For hasty speeches come not well from Sháhs.
I am the same Sikandar that held forth
So pleasantly to thee. Kaidáfa knew
That very day that thou didst grasp his hand.”
Then Cæsar bade the attendants: “Set a throne
Beneath a blossom-scattering tree.”
He bade
To spread the board and call for wine and harpers.
They spent a while in pleasure and delights.
Now when the ruddy wine had made them glad
The Sháh gave orders for a royal gift
Of stuffs of Rúm, of Chín, and Persian make,
And gave it to Tainúsh with gold and silver
For his companions, crowns and belts withal
To those that merited, and thus enjoined him:—
“Stay not, this wood is distant, not thy home.
Say to Kaidáfa: ‘O thou prudent lady,
Thou ruler shrewd of heart and well advised!
While life endureth I will constant be,
And have possessed my soul with love for thee.’”
He marched thence to the country of the Brahmans
To make inquiry of their ancient rites
From those abstemious men. The Brahmans heard
News of the Sháh that he was marching thither,
And from the heights came down those devotees,
Assembling at the tidings. Then the sages
Wrote to Sikandar, chief of priests. The letter
Began with heart-felt blessings from the Lord
Of all upon the monarch of the world:—
Both mastery, and knowledge,” then proceeded:—
“God hath bestowed on thee the mighty world,
Brave king! What wouldst thou in our meagre land,
The dwelling of God's worshippers? If thou
Dost come for wealth, good sooth! thy wits are failing!
It is our part to suffer and be wise;
Yea, knowledge maketh musical our souls.
Thou canst not rob us of long-suffering,
While knowledge harmeth none. Thou wilt but see
A naked flock dispersed by wind and snow,
And fain eat grass-seed if thou tarriest!”
The envoy, girt with roots of grass, approached
The Sháh who, having seen him and the letter,
Resolved to act aright and do no hurt.
He halted all his host and then proceeded
Himself with the philosophers of Rúm.
Informed thereof the devotees all came
To meet him on his way with paltry gifts,
Because they had no treasure, tilth, or crops,
And blessed that noble monarch of the earth.
Sikandar marked the Brahmans' looks and talk,
How they went bare of body, foot, and head,
Their bodies barren while their souls bare knowledge,
With grass for raiment and its seeds for food,
At ease from feast and battle-day, and how
They ate, reposed, and slept on plain and mountain,
And gathered everywhere in naked troops;
Their provand all of tree-fruits and the seeds
Of grasses on the mountain-tops, their girdles
The pelts of game, their raiment ready-made.144
He asked them of their ways of sleep and provand,
Rest and good days and fight: “What share have ye
Of this world's good? Hath Heaven no antidote
For bane save this alone?”
A sage replied:—
“O conqueror of the world! none of us talketh
Of war and strife; we need not clothes, stuffs, foods.
Man being born in mother-nakedness
Should not be dainty in his garniture,
And hence returneth naked to the dust,
Where all is fear, anxiety, and dread.
Earth coucheth and heaven clotheth us; our eyes,
Expectant of the ending, watch the way.
How much the ambitious striveth after things
Which, strife and all, are hardly worth a doit,
Behind are left his gold and crown and treasure!
But, know, his virtues bear him company
While both his head and state descend to dust.”
Sikandar asked of them: “Which number most—
The hidden or the manifest, to wit
The living or the dead whose needs are over?”
The sage replied: “Know, king! the hidden far
Exceed the manifest, for thou mayst reckon
Upon a hundred thousand dead and more
For each alive, and blest is one not outcast
In Hell. The living too must die. One goeth,
And leaveth his position to another.”
The Sháh inquired: “Is there most land or water
Illumined by the sun?”
The Brahman answered:—
“The water is the keeper of the land.”
He asked: “Who are the awakened, who the sinners
On earth? They make a stir, and many live
Not knowing wherefore they are here at all!”
The Brahman answered: “Know thou pure in heart
And justice-seeking chief! the awakened man
Is he whom little of this world sufficeth;
The guiltiest, one whose wisdom hath been docked
By hate and greed. If thou wouldst know such well
Look first upon thyself, for all earth's face
Is thine, and one would say that restless heaven
Is kin to thee, yet still thou schem'st for more,
And to withhold thy wits from grimy dust,
For greed is thy soul's hell, and it may be
That these our words may cause thee to repent.”
The Sháh inquired: “What is our ruling passion,
And our companion everywhere for evil?”
The Brahman answered: “Greed—the sum of hate,
And soul of sin.”
“What is its nature then,”
The Sháh asked, “seeing there is cause to weep
O'er this its passion for aggrandisement?”
The Brahman made this answer: “Greed and Need
Are two dívs and long-drawn calamities.
One hath its lips dried up with poverty,
The other sleepeth not to compass more,
While both are hunted by the evil day:
How blest is he whose soul is fed on wisdom!”
Now, when Sikandar heard, his face resembled
The bloom of fenugreek, his cheeks were pale,
Tears filled his eyes, his smiling countenance
Was drawn with frowns. The imperious Sháh in-
quired:—
My treasures, nor regret what they have cost me.”
One said: “Exalted Sháh! deliver us
From eld and death.”
“Death is inexorable,”
The Sháh made answer. “How canst thou escape
That Dragon's piercing clutch? For wert thou iron
Thou wouldst not find release, while youth, if here
It tarrieth, is not exempt from eld.”
The Brahman said to him: “O mighty Sháh,
The world-lord, sage, and one whose word is law!
Thou knowest death to be remediless,
And that there is no worse calamity
Than eld. Why seek to win the world by toil,
Why in thy madness sniff the bloom of bale?
Thou wilt but leave the product of thy travail
Behind thee and bestow what thou hast toiled for,
And treasures, on the foe. To undertake
To toil for others is both ignorance
And folly. White hair is Death's messenger;
Why hope so much to live?”
The shrewd Sháh said:—
“If any of God's servants could escape
From His decree, I had escaped withal
By observation of the turning sky;
But neither man of lore nor warrior
Evadeth that decree, strive how he may.
Moreover they that perished in my wars,
Or had their days cut short by destiny,
Deserved their fate by bloodshed and ill deeds,
For no oppressor 'scapeth. They have suffered
God's chastisement for quitting wisdom's way.
'Tis not in man to limit heaven's powers,
Or shun the process of the passing hours.”
Sikandar proffered many a gift, but none
Accepted them; the Brahmans had small greed.
He did no hurt, set off upon his march,
By that same token fared toward the West,
And from the Brahmans' country reached a spot
Whence he beheld a deep and boundless sea;
The men there had their faces veiled like women,
And went arrayed, all colour and perfume.
They spake not Persian, whether old or modern,
Or Arabic, or Turkman, or Chinese;
They lived on fish alone; there was no means
Of bringing aught by road. Sikandar stood
Invoked God's name. Then from the water rose
A rock as bright and yellow as the sun.
The Sháh desired a swift ship whence to view
The thing aright. Of his philosophers
One said: “'Tis not for thee to cross the Deep;
Wait till some man of lore survey the rock.”
Then thirty men, some Persian and some Rúman,
Embarked. That bit of rock turned out to be
A yellow fish which, as they came anigh,
Drew down the vessel swiftly, dived, and vanished!
Sikandar's soldiers were aghast, and all
Invoked God's name. A priest said to the Sháh:—
“A goodly thing is knowledge, for the man
That hath it is in this world chief of folk.
Now if the Sháh had gone and perished thus
Blood would have filled the souls of this great host.”
Departing thence he led the army on
To where a novel water came in view.
Around it there were reeds as large as trees:
Thou wouldst have said: “They are the mighty stems
Of planes.” They were above ten cubits thick,
And measured forty cubits in their height.
The houses were of reeds and built thereon.
They might not tarry in that reed-bed; no one
Drank of its water for 'twas salt. Sikandar
Fared thence until a deepsome lake appeared;
The world was jocund, water honey-like;
The soil exhaled the scent of musk. They ate,
And set themselves to sleep, when from the water
Came writhing snakes in swarms while from the wood
Flame-coloured scorpions issued, and the world
Grew black and straitened to those slumberers.
On every side there perished multitudes,
Men great in lore and war. On one side came
Herds of wild boars with long tusks diamond-bright,
And on the other lions that out-bulked
An ox; none could withstand them; so the host,
Withdrawing from the mere and flinging fire
Upon that reed-bed, set themselves to slay
Hogs in such numbers as to block the way.
Came to the country of Habash and saw
A land as 'twere a raven's plume with men
Black-faced with eyes like lamps. A lusty crowd
Of able-bodied folk, large-limbed and naked,
Raised, when they saw afar the army's dust,
Their war-cry to the clouds. A thousand thousand
Assembled. All turned black before the Sháh.
They came on him and slaughtered many troops,
Transfixing them with bones instead of spears.
He bade his soldiers arm. Those lion-men
Discomfited the blacks, who charged unclad,
And slew above a thousand while the rest
Turned from the fray. Earth's face seemed like the sea
Of Chín with bloodshed. When the dales and deserts
Were smirched with gore, and slain piled everywhere,
The soldiers scattered fuel on the heaps,
And then Sikandar bade to kindle them.
When it was dark the wolves began to howl:
Sikandar donned his helmet and cuirass.
A pack approached, all big as buffaloes.
Their leader, larger than an elephant,
Had on its head a dusky horn. It slew
Full many a chief and, oft attacked, ne'er showed
Its back. With arrows they made shift to kill
At last that elephant-taking iron Hill.
Thence marched he quickly and invoking oft
The just World-lord. On reaching the Narmpái
He saw a countless folk who had no steeds,
Was lion-like in form. Now when the host
Neared the Narmpái the world grew black to them;
They roared like rattling thunder, came like dívs
Upon Sikandar, running on their knees,
With martial bodies and contentious hearts,
And showered stones fiercely as the autumn-blasts
Beat on the trees. The Rúman host advanced
With sword and arrow, and thou wouldst have said:—
“Bright day is dimmed.”
When few Narmpái were left
Sikandar rested, then led on the host,
And reached what seemed a boundless city whence
All, as their wont was, went to meet him gladly,
Asked naught but brought all kinds of tapestries,
Of raiment and of provand while Sikandar
Saluted, well received, and honoured them
According to their station. Then he bade
The common folk, the chiefs, and those star-favoured
To carpet all the plain. The sands and soil
Were tricked out with brocade. Upon the waste
They pitched the Sháh's pavilion, and the brave
Took post around. All revelled, Sháh and horsemen.
Thus, as he fleeted time with feast and wine,
Or rest, the host, inured to heat and cold,
Reposed from war. Thereafter ceaselessly
He sought a lucky day whereon to march
Sought for intelligence from all, but none
Gave him auspicious counsel. He observed
A mountain with its summit midst the stars:
Thou wouldst have said: “It will arrest the sky!”
Few were the folk thereon, and none of them
Remained at night. Of these he asked: “What way
Is there, and how must I conduct the host?”
All blessed him, saying: “Famous king of earth!
“The way is o'er the mount if guide could go,
But on its farther side there is a dragon,
Whose grievous venom doth confound the wolf.
Thy troops can pass it not; its venom's fumes
Mount to the moon; flames issue from its maw,
And its two side-locks would avail to snare
An elephant. Our folk can not withstand it.
It needeth for its food five oxen nightly.
Drive them with care and trouble, lest the dragon
Come hither, and our folk in numbers suffer.”
Sikandar, at the dragon's feeding-time,
Chose troops and bade to give it naught that day.
The dragon, when its hour for battening
Was o'er, came down the pass like fire. Sikandar
Bade his troops shower thereon their arrows swiftly.
That laidly dragon drew one breath and sucked
Some warriors in. The son of Failakús
Bade beat the tymbals and the kettledrums,
Enkindle mighty fires and make a blaze
In every quarter. When the mountain rang
With tymbal-din the monster feared and fled.
When Sol ascended from the Sign of Taurus,
And soared the lark's note from the garths of roses,
The warrior-chieftain brought with him five oxen,
Procured with money from his treasury.
He slew and skinned them, heads and all; his scheme
Gave courage to his friends. He charged the hides
With bane and naphtha, and made speed toward
The dragon. Blowing up the skins he called
Upon the Giver of all good and bade
Men pass the hides along from hand to hand.
As he drew near the dragon it appeared
Black like a cloud, its tongue was livid, its eyes
Seemed blood, its maw belched flame. They cast the
oxen
Down from the mountain-top and closely marked
The dragon, which engorged them, swift as wind,
Or ever they had left those warriors' hands.
Now when its frame was hide-stuffed, and the bane
Had spread throughout its body, it pierced through
The entrails and invaded brains and feet.
The dragon dashed its head on mount and rocks,
And thus a long time lapsed while all the troops
Showered arrows on it till that mountain-form,
That hunter, fell. Thence fared the host with speed,
And left in scorn the dragon's body there.
Sikandar led them to another mountain.
One that amazed the troops. The keen of sight
Could mark its height from far and that its peak
Was like a scimitar-blade and thereupon,
Apart from folk and distant from the throng,
Was set a golden throne. A hoary corpse
In death, palled in brocade, upon its head
A crown of gems of all kinds, and heaped round
With gold and silver. None could pass that way,
For all that scaled the mountain-top to seek
Aught of that corpse began to quake though fearless,
Died, and returned to dust. Sikandar clomb
The mountain-top to view the corpse with all
Its gold and silver, but he heard a voice:—
“O Sháh! thou hast accomplished thy career,
Hast voided many a monarch's throne, exalted
Thy head to heaven, and slaughtered many a foe
And friend. 'Tis time for thee to quit the world.”
Burned like a lamp the Sháh's cheeks as he heard;
He left that mount and with a heart all seared.
On marching with his chiefs of Rúm Sikandar
Fared toward the city that thou call'st Harúm,
Which was inhabited by women only,
Who suffered none to come within their gates.
Their left breasts were like eager warriors',
Who don the breastplate on the day of battle,
While on the right hand they resembled women's,—
Pomegranate-like on silk. The Sháh with all
His mighty men of Rúm approached Harúm,
And wrote a letter fit and fair and worthy
Of his high birth, addressed thus: “From the king
Of Rúm and of Írán to her that is
The ruler in Harúm.
The letter first
Named Him who ruleth o'er the starry heaven,
Of whom are justice, love, and bounteousness,
And then went on: “Whoe'er is wise of soul,
And walketh yet alive upon the world,
Hath heard of what we have achieved on earth,
And how we have exalted sovereignty,
While he that hath refused to do our bidding
Hath no couch save dark dust. Fain would I have
No place concealed from me throughout the world.
I roam not for addition's sake but ache
For knowledge. Be my hand withheld from gain,
And justice ever comrade of my soul.
If I approach 'tis not to fight with you;
My heart is set on peace and jollity.
When he hath read my letter of advice.
Let all of you of worth prepare to meet me,
For none shall lose by coming.”
He commanded
That a philosopher of Rúm should bear
The letter to the city of Harúm,
And added many honied words. The envoy
Was wise himself. When he arrived he saw
The city full of women and no men,
And all the people went forth to the plain
To see the Rúman. All the counsellors
In that assembly gathered round the letter
And, when a city-sage had read it over,
And grew possessed of what the Sháh proposed,
They sat, and wrote back: “O exalted Sháh!
Live ever. We have set thy messenger
Before us and have read thy letter through.
First as to what thou sayest touching kings,
Thy victories, and former fights: if thou
Shalt march against the city of Harúm
Thou wilt not see the ground for hoofs and feet
The districts of our city pass compute,
And in each one there are ten thousand women.
We sleep in arms and battle for addition.
We all are spouseless, modest maidens we.
Whichever way thou comest to this land
There is deep water to be ferried over.
When one among us hath a mind to wed
We none of us behold her face again,
And she must cross the water be the day
Fine, blusterous, or snowy. Having married,
If she shall have a daughter—one refined
And fond of hues and scents—that child of hers
Abideth ever in her native air;
But if she proveth masculine and proud
Her mother will dispatch her to Harúm;
While if the mother bringeth forth a son
He tarrieth, coming not to dwell with us.
Each night ten thousand maidens guard the river.
When one of us unhorseth in the fight
Some lion-man we set a golden crown
Upon her head and raise o'er Gemini
Her throne, and surely there are thirty thousand
Among us, wearing crown of gold and earrings,
By whose hands some illustrious warrior
Hath turned to dust upon the day of battle.
Close not the door thereof upon thyself,
Else folk will say that thou didst fight with women,
And, after fighting, fled'st, and this will shame thee.
And ne'er be obsolete while this world lasteth;
But if thou, with thy famous men of Rúm,
Wilt come and go about Harúm, observing
All faith and courtesy, thou shalt behold
But mirth and kindness. If thy choice, O Sháh!
Be other thou wilt shrink from us in battle.
We will lead forth against thee such a host
That sun and moon shall darken.”
When this answer
Was finished an ambassadress departed
With crown and royal raiment, and with ten
Fair cavaliers. When she approached the Sháh
In state he sent some troops to welcome her.
The noble lady gave to him the letter,
And told the message of the valiant women.
Sikandar, having read that answer, chose
A man discreet and wise, sent this reply,
And said: “Be wisdom wedded to men's brains.
No kings or chiefs, exalted though they be
And favoured by the stars, are left on earth
That are not subject unto me. Black dust
And camphor-dust, and feast and battlefield,
Are one to me. I have not come with drums,
With elephants, with players on the tymbals,
And such a host that plain and mountain quake
Beneath the horses' hoofs, to fight with women.
I fain would see your city, and if ye
Will make approaches to me all is well.
When I have seen I will march hence the host,
And not abide here long. We will behold
Your policy and glory, how ye manage
Your steeds, your grace, and potence. Privily
Will I inquire as to your works and ways,
How women can exist, men absent, how
Death's ravage is repaired, and find the outcome.”
The envoy went and did his embassage
At large. The magnates met and made reply:—
“We will select two thousand women, fluent,
Learned, and discreet; each hundred have in charge
Ten crowns of gold each set with many gems,
Two hundred crowns in all, and none but kings
Each with its jewels weighing thirty ratl.156
We will go forth to meet the Sháh when we
Are ware of his approach, for we have heard
About his knowledge and his Grace.”
The envoy
Returned and spake those words instinct with wisdom.
Sikandar marched forth from his resting-place,
And marvelled at the conduct of those women.
He went two stages, then a storm arose,
Whose snow-drifts made all level with the hills,
And many followers perished on that day
Through cold and snow. The Sháh pursued his march
Two stages farther through that grievous frost,
Then reached a burning land whence vapours rose,
And murky clouds; “The host,” thou wouldst have said,
“Was marching over fire.” The hauberks burnt
The shoulders of the Persians, and the earth
Glowed with the horse-shoes of the cavaliers,
And thus it was until they reached a land
Where they beheld all folk as black as night,
With pendent, slobbering lips; all lips and slobber
Were they, all slobber and lip! Their eyes seemed
blood;
Flames issued from their mouths! Their warriors
Brought many elephants and offerings
Before the Sháh, and said: “We caused this storm
And snow to harm you, for none e'er hath traversed
This route as we have seen your army do.”
The Sháh abode a month. When he and host
Had been refreshed he sped thence merrily,
His heart prepared, toward the women's city,
And o'er the stream two thousand women passed
With crowns and earrings on. There was a forest
Thick and well watered; all the place was glad,
And flourishing. The women brought a store
Of provand and bright, figured tapestries
Out to a mead and, when Sikandar reached
The city of Harúm, they flocked to him
Out of their settlements. Full many a crown
They proffered him, as well as raiment, gems,
And things both fair and sweet. These he accepted,
Received the women with all courtesy,
And gave them quarters in that charming spot.
When night turned day he visited the city,
And occupied himself in seeing it,
Investigating all its usages
Till all had been made clear. He questioned much,
Surveyed the river, and departed westward.
He found a mighty city of brave men
All fit for battle and the day of fight.
They came before Sikandar at his bidding
With bodies bent and hands upon their heads.
He asked their chiefs: “What wonders have ye here?”
An elder thus replied: “Star-favoured Sháh,
And lion-capturer! there is a Deep
Beyond the city. Brighter than that water
Naught have we seen, for when the radiant sun
Arriveth there it setteth in those depths.
Beyond it all is dark and lost to sight,
While of that place of darkness I have heard
So many tales that they are numberless.
A man of lore, a worshipper of God,
Declareth that there is a fountain there,
And mine informant, who is wise and great,
Referreth to it as the Fount of Life.
That wise, discerning man said: ‘How shall one
Who drinketh of the Fount of Life e'er die?
From Paradise it runneth; wash therein
The body, and thy sins will pass away.’”
Then Cæsar said: “As to this place of gloom,
How can beasts fare therein?”
The devotee
Made answer: “Ye must ride upon young horses.”
The Sháh bade herdsmen gather to the camp
The herds at large and chose ten thousand steeds,
All four-year-olds and fit for battle-needs.
Sikandar, summoning his prudent chiefs,
Marched cheerly thence his host and reached a city
Whereto he saw no middle and no end,
And having all things needful in abundance.
'Twas full of garths, parks, halls, and palaces.
There he dismounted and at dawn next day
Went forward unattended toward the Source
Which in his story of the hero's fortunes
The rustic minstrel calleth that of Life.
He tarried there until the sun, grown pale,
Sank in that fount of lapis-lazuli.
He saw the wonder wrought by holy God—
The Bright One's disappearance from the world—
Returned to camp, and pondered much. That night
First chose the most enduring of his troops,
Took with him food for forty days and more,
And went forth eagerly to look on wonders.
He camped his other troops within the city,
And sought and found a guide. Khisr, who was chief
Among the nobles of that folk, advised him.
Sikandar did as Khisr enjoined, surrendered
Both heart and soul to his allegiance,
And said: “Shrewd-hearted man! be diligent
Herein, and if we shall obtain the Water
Of Life then we will pass much time in prayer.
He will not die who nurtureth thus his soul,
And in his wisdom refugeth with God.
I have two signets that in sight of water
Shine out at night like suns. Take one, lead on,
And tender well thy person and thy life;
The other one shall light me on my way.
I go amid the Darkness with mine escort,
And we will see what God omnipotent
Preserveth hidden where so much is seen.
Thou art my leader, and He is my refuge,
And showeth me the Water and the Way.”
Now when the troops marched toward the Fount of
Life
A shout rose from the desert: “God is great!”160
Khisr left that station and all food behind him,
And fared thus for two days and nights while none
Bestirred his lips to eat. Upon the third
Two ways showed mid the Darkness, and the Sháh
Lost trace of Khisr. What while the prophet went
Toward the Fount of Life, exalting thus
His living head to Saturn, bathed his body
And head in that bright Water, sought no guard
Save God, drank, rested, and returned apace,
More instant ever both in prayer and praise,
Sikandar reached the light and saw a mountain
Both high and bright, and on its top four columns
Of aloe-wood uplifted to the clouds.
On every column was a mighty nest,
And in each nest there sat a huge, green bird,
Which, speaking loudly in the Rúman tongue,
Hailed the victorious master of the world,
Who hurried to them when he heard. One said:—
“O votary of toil! what seekest thou
Within this Wayside Inn, for though thou raisest
Thy head to heaven above it will dismiss thee
Hast seen aught built of reeds or reed-baked bricks?”
He answered: “Both: our dwellings are directly
Or indirectly made with reeds.”
The bird,
On hearing this reply, perched lower down,
Astonying that worshipper of God,
And asked him: “Hast thou heard within the world
The sounds of harp, of reveller, and song?”
He made this answer: “One, whose lot it is
To have no share in joy, the glad account not
Although for them he pour out heart and soul.”
From that tall column of lign-aloe-wood
The bird flew to the ground; its musky perch
Was void. The bird inquired: “Do understanding
And right prevail or do defect and guile?”
The Sháh made answer: “He that seeketh know-ledge
Is eminent in every company.”
Back from dark ground to column went the bird
And, having cleaned its talons with its beak,
Inquired of Cæsar: “Why do devotees
Dwell on the mountains?”
“The devout,” he said,
“Find not another place so good for worship.”
The bird ran up the column to its nest.
The monarch was delighted with that fowl,
Which with its talons sharpened up its bill
In full security. Then it instructed
Sikandar to ascend the topmost peak,
Afoot and unescorted, there to see
That which would cause the merriest to weep.
On hearing this he went toward the mountain
Alone to view the sight upon its summit,
And there saw Isráfíl, with trump in hand
And head uplifted, standing at his post,
Wind on his lips and moisture in his eye,
Till God shall bid him blow. On seeing Sikandar
He roared like thunder: “O thou slave of greed!
Toil not so much, because some day a Call
Will reach thine ears. Be less concerned for crown
And throne. Make ready to depart and bind
The baggage on.”
“It is my lot from fortune,”
The Sháh replied, “for save by stir and roaming
I may not look on sight and mystery.”
He then descended, wailing and imploring
The Giver of all good, and, with a guide
Preceding him, advanced along that route,
Involved in gloom, which when the army entered
A cry ascended from the darksome heights:—
“He that shall take a stone up from the road
Will grieve for what he beareth in his hand,
And heartily in each case seek a cure.”
The soldiers all gave ear, and every one
Grew thoughtful at that cry since, whether they
Took stones or no, must they not count on ills?
One said: “It is the punishment of guilt
To bear repentance and the stones as well.”
Another said: “We should take some; perchance
We may not have to savour pain and toil.”
One man took of the stones; another left them;
A third through indolence took little ones.
When from the region of the Fount of Life
They reached the plain, emerging from the Gloom,
Each sought the truth and then perceived the trick.
One had his bosom full of jewels cut,
Another his with jewels in the rough,
And both regretted that they had so few;
Why had they passed by emeralds as vile?
But sorrier still was he that picked up none
At leaving precious gems as he had done.
Two weeks he tarried and, when rested, marched.
He set forth eastward, having seen the west;
His purpose in the world was wayfaring.
Now as he went he saw a noble city;
“No wind or dust passed o'er it,” thou wouldst say.
Whenas the drums beat on the elephants
The chiefs came out two miles to welcome him.
The Sháh, on seeing them, received them well,
Exalting them o'er circling Sol, and asked:—
“What matchless marvels have ye in these parts?”
They loosed their tongues and thus bewailed their
fortune:—
“A very grievous case confronteth us,
And we will tell it to the conquering Sháh.
By reason of this cloud-capt mountain-range
Our hearts are full of anguish, toil, and grief.
Since for resistance we are powerless
Yájúj there and Májúj give us no sleep,
For when a portion of them reach our city
Our portion is all misery and travail.
Their faces all resemble those of beasts,
Their tongues are black, their eyes like blood, their
faces
Are black, their teeth are like wild boars'! Who dareth
With hair, the hue of indigo, their breasts,
Their bosoms, and their ears resemble those
Of elephants. They sleep upon one ear,
And use the other as a coverlet.163
The mothers have a thousand children each,
And who can reckon them? They herd like beasts,
They go apace and run like onagers.
In spring, when clouds roar and the green sea heaveth,
The clouds draw up great monsters from the waves,
While air is roaring like a mighty lion,
And pour them down in masses: then these folk
Come troop on troop and batten year by year
Upon these monsters and thereby grow lusty
In limbs and body. Afterward they feed
On herbage, scattering to gather it.
In winter they are pale and thin, their voices
Like doves'; but through those monsters in the spring
They are as wolves and roar right lustily.
Now if the great Sháh could devise a means
To liberate our hearts from this distress,
He will receive the praise of every one,
And will prolong his sojourn in the world.
Exert thy power and do this work for us,
For thou too needest help from holy God.”
Sikandar mused at them, grew grave, and pondered,
Then answered thus: “I will defray the cost;
Your city must provide both aid and labour.
By help of God, our Guide and Succourer,
I will reduce this way of theirs to reason.”
All cried: “May fortune's ills be far from thee,
O Sháh! We are the slaves of thy good pleasure,
Thy lifelong servitors. We will supply
All that thou need'st, for we have no concern
More urgent.”
So Sikandar came and viewed
The heights, and took with him a troop of sages.
He ordered to bring blacksmiths, copper, brass,
And heavy hammers, mortar, stone, and fire-wood
Past reckoning, bring all things requisite.
They brought him everything that he demanded
In measureless supplies. When all was ready,
And planned, the masons and the smiths, all those
Of mastery in their trade throughout the world,
Assembled to Sikandar to assist him
In that most needful work. From every province
The experts mustered, and he built two walls
Across the mountain-pass from base to crest,
One hundred royal cubits broad, one cubit
Strewed copper, and showered sulphur in the midst,
Such is the craft and subtlety of kings!
He laid thus his materials course on course,
And when from top to bottom all was set,
They mixed much ghee and naphtha, poured it over
Those substances, and on the top shot charcoal
In ass-loads. Then the Sháh bade fire the whole,
And five score thousand smiths blew up the flames,
As bidden by that king victorious.
A sound of blowing went up from the mountain,
The stars were frighted at the glowing fire.
Thus passed a season with the fire in blast,
And smiths a-toil. They ran the substances
Together, fusing them in that fierce blaze.
Thus was the world delivered from Yájúj
And from Májúj, and earth grew habitable,
For by Sikandar's famous barrier
The world escaped the misery of strife.
It was five hundred cubits high, about
One hundred broad. The nobles blessed the Sháh,
And said: “May neither time nor earth lack thee.”
They brought before him in abundant store
Whatever was the produce of those parts.
He would accept of naught and went his ways;
His doings filled the whole world with amaze.
He marched one month till Sháh and troops were
weary.
At length he reached a mount where he beheld not
A man or beast. Its peak he saw to be
Of lapis-lazuli and thereupon
A palace built of topazes, with lustres
Of crystal everywhere, and in the middle
A fount of brackish water. A ruby served
For lamp and lighted palace, mount, and heights;
The light fell on the water, and the jewel
Illumed the palace like the sun. Beside
The fount was set a double golden throne
Where lay a hapless one with human body
And with a wild boar's head—a helpless corpse
On that fine throne. His couch beneath was camphor,
And o'er him spread a mantle of brocade.
Or even trod the dust upon the floor,
Died in convulsions on the spot. A cry
Came from that briny fount: “O slave of greed!
Be not so mad. Much hast thou seen that none
Besides hath seen. 'Tis time to draw thy rein
Because thy life is ending, and thy throne
Of sovereignty is going all astray.”
Sikandar feared, turned him about apace,
And came back to his camp as swift as smoke.
He marched thence quickly, wailing and invoking
The name of God, then from that mountain took
The desert-route in dudgeon and concerned
About his life. All sorrow and in tears
He went with troops behind and guides before
Till, by that desert-route, he reached a city,
And joyed to hear the voice of men. The land
Was all a garden, gladding to delight
The heart of man. The magnates of the city—
The men of valour—went to welcome him;
All praised him, showering on him gold and gems,
And said: “O Sháh! how blesséd 'tis that thou
Shouldst traverse thus our coasts! No host before
E'er visited this city, none of us
E'er heard the name of Sháh, but now that thou
Hast come our souls are thine, and mayst thou be
In spirit lucid and in body hale.”
Sikandar gladdened in his heart at them.
He rested from the desert-march, and asked:—
“Of marvel what is there for me to note?”
The guides thus answered: “O victorious Sháh,
And pure of rede! there is a wonder here,
Whose match none in the world of small and great
E'er hath beheld—a tree with double trunk—
A marvel manifest. One trunk is female,
The other male; they speak, have boughs, and flourish.
At night the female yieldeth speech and perfume,
The male doth speak by day.”
Sikandar went
With cavaliers of Rúm and native chiefs
Of whom he asked: “This tree—when speaketh it
Aloud?” The interpreter replied: “One trunk
Will talk or ever day's ninth hour hath passed,
So that the auspicious Sháh will hear its voice.
When it is night the female trunk will speak;
Its foliage will savour as 'twere musk.”
What marvel meet we then?”
“Of going further,”
The interpreter replied, “there is no question.
There is no place beyond it, and guides call it
‘The World's End.’”
Then the blest Sháh with his Rúmans
Set forward. When he reached the speaking tree
The ground was seething hot, and all its surface
Was hid by beasts' skins.
“What are these, and who
Hath torn beasts thus?” he asked of his informant,
Who said: “The tree hath many devotees,
Who, if they hunger while engaged in worship,
Feed on the flesh of beasts.”
When Sol attained
The apex of heaven's vault Sikandar heard
Aloft a cry proceeding from the leaves
Of that tall tree—an awful, boding cry.
He feared and asked of the interpreter:—
“Shrewd, trusty friend! what say the talking leaves,
Because they bathe my heart in lymph of blood?”
The guide replied: “O favourite of fortune!
The leaves upon the boughs of this tree say:—
‘Why doth Sikandar roam so o'er the world,
For he hath had his portion of good things,
And, when he shall have reigned for twice seven years,
Must quit the throne of sovereignty?”
Sikandar
Wept tears of blood; the guide's words wrung his heart.
Thenceforth he spake to no one, but remained
All sorrowful till midnight. Then the leaves
Upon the other trunk gave utterance.
Again the Sháh asked of his friendly guide:—
“What is it that the other branches say?”
Thus his informant solved the mystery:—
“The female branches say: ‘Thou travailest
In this wide world for greed and for addition.
Why torture thus thy soul? It is thy passion
To go about the world, afflicting folk
And slaying kings. Thou hast not long to live;
Do not thyself cloud and contract thy days.’”
The great king asked of the interpreter:—
“O good, discerning man! inquire if I
Shall be in Rúm when my dark day shall come,
And if my mother see me not alive
Will she at last enshroud this face of mine?”
The speaking tree said to the Sháh: “Be speedy,
And bind the baggage on. Thy mother, kindred
In Rúm, and face-veiled ladies there will look
Will come ere long, crown, diadem, and throne
Grow tired of thee.”
He heard and left the tree,
Heart-stricken by the scimitar of fortune.
When he reached camp the noble native chiefs
Went home and, when they had made ready gifts,
Came hurrying to the Sháh. There were a breastplate,
Resplendent as the Nile and wide and broad
As is an elephant's hide, two elephant-tusks
Five cubits long—a toil to lift—mail-coats
And rich brocade, and, made of solid gold,
A hundred eggs, each weighing sixty mans169
If weighed as drachms, and a rhinoceros
In gold and gems. Accepting these he led
His host away and tears—his heart's blood—shed.
He led his army thence toward Chín and raised
The chiefs' heads to the Pleiads. Stage by stage
He crossed the desert till in forty days
He reached the sea,170
dismounted there his troops
And pitched the camp-enclosure of brocade.
He ordered then a scribe to write a letter
As from Sikandar, conqueror of cities,
Bade that the letter should comprise all kinds
Of fair and foul, and, when the scribe had finished.
Went as ambassador. He chose a Persian,
A shrewd man, one with him in heart and word,
To bid him “Do” or “Do not.” Then he gave
The captain of the host charge of the troops,
And of the Rúmans took with him five sages.
When tidings reached Faghfúr: “There is an envoy
Approaching Chín” he sent a force of troops
To meet him, and Sikandar fared in state.
He reached that spacious court. Faghfúr beheld
That chosen troop of valiant men and came,
With mind averse and anxious, from the entry
To meet Sikandar who ran up to him,
Did him obeisance, and sat long within
The hall of audience. Faghfúr gave greeting,
Received him well, and lodged him splendidly.
Now when the bright Lamp rose above the mountains
They brought a horse caparisoned with gold,
Sikandar spake at large, said what was fit,
Then gave the letter, and recalled what Cæsar
Had said. The letter's superscription ran:—
“From Rúm's Sháh, who is world-lord and the prince
Of every march and land, whom other monarchs
Praise, to Faghfúr, the glory of the realm.”
The letter thus began: “Praise to the Maker
From us His slaves,” and then went on to say:—
“Our will for Chín is this, that it should prosper.
Ye should not fight us; that cut short Fúr's life.
So was it with Dárá, who ruled the world,
Faryán the Arab, and with other chiefs.
From west to east none hath escaped our sway.
Heaven knoweth not the number of my troops
Though Venus, Mercury, and Sol shall count them.
If thou infringest my command in aught
Thou wilt but vex the country and thyself.
Prepare thy tribute when thou readest this,
Be not aggrieved, and meddle not with evil.
If thou wilt come and see me and my host
I will regard thee as ally and friend,
Assure to thee thy throne and crown, and fortune
Shall harm thee not; but if thou wouldst not come
Before thy lord, send to my treasury
The rarities of Chín, as golden ware,
Swords, steeds and signets, raiment, slaves, and thrones
Of ivory, rich brocade and torques and crowns—
Whate'er thou hast—as thou wouldst be unscathed
By us. Repulse mine army by these means,
And keep in safety crown and throne and treasure.
Thou know'st both courses now: my host expecteth
Thy fall or rise. The Maker bless thee. Mayst
Thou ne'er have reason to recall my words!”
The lord of Chín, on seeing such a letter,
Was wroth but showed it not and with a smile
Said to the envoy: “Heaven is thy Sháh's consort!
Tell what thou canst about his looks, his stature,
His prowess, and his speech.”
The envoy said:—
“O chief of Chín! know, none is like Sikandar
On earth. In prowess, bounty, rede, and wisdom,
He passeth man's conception. Cypress-tall
Is he, an elephant in strength, a Nile
In bounty, and in tongue a trenchant sword.
His blandness draweth eagles from the clouds.”
He bade serve meat and wine, and deck a hall
Within the garth. They quaffed till it was dark,
And they were all bemused. The lord of Chín
Said to the ambassador: “Be Jupiter
Thy Sháh's ally. Tomorrow I will answer,
And make the day right glorious in thy sight.”
Now when Sol rose in Leo, and the sky
Had night alow, Sikandar drew anear,
But not with ill prepense. Faghfúr inquired:—
“How went the night, for thou wast flushed wine-red
Yestre'en when going hence?” then bade a scribe
To come with paper, musk, and spicery,
And wrote a warm rejoinder, and adorned,
Like Paradise, that paper wrought in Chín;
And first he praised the Judge, the Lord of manhood,
Of justice, and accomplishment, the Lord
Of learning, self-control, and Faith, “and may
He bless the king of Rúm. Thy courteous envoy
Hath reached us with the letter of the Sháh,
That seeker after knowledge. We have read
Thy royal words and with the great discussed them.
For what in fight and feast befell Dárá,
Son of Dáráb, Faryán, and Fúr whom thou
Didst triumph over and become the shepherd,
With monarchs as the flock: the Lord of sun
And moon so ordered it; impute it not
To prowess and the number of thy troops,
For when a chief's life endeth 'tis all one
To die in feast or fight. Thou foughtest them
Upon their fated day which altereth not.
Boast not and vaunt not over them, for thou
Past doubt wilt pass thyself, though thou be iron.
Where are Jamshíd, Zahhák, and Farídún?
They came from wind and went to wind again.
I neither fear thee nor will fight with thee.
Not, as with thee, doth bluster fill my head,
Who am not used to bloodshed, while ill-doing
Is not accordant to my Faith. Thou call'st me
Before thee but in vain, for I serve God,
Not king. I send thee more than thou dost ask;
Regarding largess I am not contentious.”
Upon his cheek Sikandar felt the blush
Of shame, his liver arrow-pierced with what
Faghfúr had said, and thought: “None shall behold me
Fare in disguise henceforth.”
Went to his lodging, and prepared to leave.
The great Faghfúr unlocked his treasury;
He grudged not bounty. First he bade make ready
An ivory throne and fifty crowns inlaid
With gems, and load with gold and silver ware
A thousand camels and a thousand more
With silk and satins, with brocade of Chín,
With camphor, aloe, musk, and spicery.
He liveth at his ease who scorneth gold.
Of squirrel, ermine, and of sable pelts,
Of rugs, of horse-hides, and of weazel-skins,
The prudent treasurer brought forth and packed
Of every sort two thousand, brought withal
High-mettled steeds caparisoned with gold,
And slave-boys too, three hundred, with gold girdles.
They brought three hundred red-haired camels laden
With many a rarity of Chín. Faghfúr
Chose from among the elders one of weight,
And sugared speech, and bade him go with greeting
And message to the Sháh, and bear to him
The glad news that the chiefs would do him homage
So long as he was in the coasts of Chín.
The envoy set forth with Sikandar. Who
Would think that he was Sháh? But when the sailors
Saw him, sprang up, and lightly spread the sails,
And when the viceroy met him with the troops,
Reporting what had chanced,174
while all the soldiers
Praised him and bent their faces to the ground,
The man of Chín perceived: “It is the Sháh!”
And went to him afoot protesting loudly.
Sikandar said to him: “Make no excuses,
And mention not the matter to Faghfúr.”
That night he rested and next day at dawn,
When he was set in peace upon his throne,
He gave the envoy gifts, and said: “May wisdom
Be ever thine. Go to Faghfúr and say:—
“With us thou hast great honour. Chín is thine,
If I may say so, and what more thou wilt.
I shall abide at present where I am;
One cannot hurry with so large a host.”
Back with the speed of wind the envoy hied,
And told Faghfúr what Cæsar had replied.
Were rested led them back. From that green sea174a
They fared by wilderness and longsome ways,
Stage after stage, until they reached Chaghwán,
And saw a fortified and prosperous city.
The magnates of the land, those famed and wise,
Came to Sikandar's presence while the chiefs
Set forward from Chaghwán with offerings,
And presents to his gate. At once Sikandar
Began to question them: “What sights have ye
Of marvel here?”
One said: “We know of none,
O king! worth seeing. Beggary and toil
Are here, and thou wilt take naught hence but wind.”
The Sháh, on hearing what the speaker said,
Marched from Chaghwán toward Sind whose cavaliers
Went out to meet him while from Hind came help.
All those heart-stricken on account of Fúr,
Their hands all bathed in blood, brought elephants,
And Indian bells. Arose the battlecry,
And clarion's blare. The Sindians' chief was named
Bandáwa, an illustrious cavalier,
And puissant. The armies shocked together,
And earth became all mountain-like with slain.
Night came; no Sindian stayed upon that field.
Sikandar led his army in pursuit,
And captured elephants fourscore and five,
As well as golden crowns and scimitars
And treasures. Women, children, and old men
Went weeping to the Sháh while on his way,
And said: “O prudent Sháh! restrain thyself,
Burn not our land, slay not our little ones,
For thy day too will pass, and blest is he
That walketh innocently.”
He had no ruth,
Not sparing e'en the wounded. They enslaved
A host of women, children, young, and old.
He went toward Nímrúz by way of Bust,
And purged the world of foes. Thence he proceeded,
World-conquering with his famed host, Yaman-ward,
Whose monarch, hearing, went with chiefs to meet
him,
As was most fit—of striped stuff of Yaman
Ten camel-loads and five of gold, ten more
Of drachms (when drachms are had hearts are not sad),
A thousand frails of saffron, with brocade
And raiment past compute. Among his treasures
He had a cup of emerald and pearls
Unpierced, in number seventy-five, besides
A cup of lapis-lazuli containing
Three score of topazes and on the top
Ten ruby signet-rings. These he delivered
To those in waiting with his benisons.
They reached the camp-enclosure of the Sháh
With all these gifts and offerings. Sikandar
Saluted and received the monarch well,
And seated him beside the throne, and he—
The monarch of Yaman—blessed him and said:—
“Be victor with thy troops. 'Twill give me joy
If thou wilt sojourn with me for two months
That Sháh and host may rest them from the road.”
Sikandar blessed him, saying: “May thy mate
Be wisdom ever.”
When the morning came
Yaman's king went his way, and all that coast
Resounded with the romage of the host.