The Persian Poets THE GAME OF CHANGAN From this quaint illustration may be seen the close resemblance of the Royal Game of Persia to the modern polo. It was played by horsemen who strove to drive a ball between upright goals by means of mallets. The Persian Poets Edited by NATHAN HASKELL DOLE BELLE M. WALKER New York THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. Publishers Copyright, I go I, by THOMAS Y. CROWELL tf CO Mr OS A 7 A i.. I NAU PAGE General Introduction vii Firdausi I Sohrab ........ 8 Omar Khayyam 81 Selections from the Rubaiyat .... 84 Nizami 90 The Loves of Laili and Majnun ... 91 Rumi 204 The Masnavi ....... 207 Poems ........ 230 Essedi 249 Day and Night ....... 249 Sa'di 253 Gulistan ; or, Rose Garden .... 256 Selections from the Bustan .... 323 Hafiz 339 A Persian Song 344 Odes 346 Jami 388 Yusuf and Zulaikha . . . . ... 390 iii GENERAL INTRODUCTION. i. The vital persistence of poetry is a kind of miracle ! A nation may not prize its bard while he lives, but after he is dead all the preservative forces are employed to perpetuate his songs. The Iliad and Odyssey, the sEneid, the Kale- vala, the Nibelungenlied, the Shah-Nameh, become the chief glories, not alone of the country where they originate, but of the world. Kings and emperors conquer and destroy, and then try to hand their fame to posterity by magnificent constructions. But their names are only names, their cities and palaces crumble, and thousands of years later some curious excavator finds at the bottom of the heap a clay tablet on which is a simple little verse* which reveals the thought of an unknown poet or gives a glimpse of a van- ished civilization. Of course, vast quantities of poems have perished, but that any of the epics or lyrics of antiquity should survive seems wonderful when one realizes the vicissitudes through which they have passed. Fire and rust and rain and the ignorance of men conspire to annihilate. The story is told that an unknown poet once offered to Abd-Allah ben Taher, Emir of Khorasan, a versified story. The bigoted prince tore the manuscript into tatters, declaring that there was no other poetry than the Kofan, and that all else was false- hood and blasphemy. History is full of such instances. Thus the sand waste drowns out the fertile meadow. But we often see one solitary flower or grass-blade piercing through the arid soil. Poetry is really the most precious possession of men, and history is not so much valued for its truth as for its grace. viii Introduction. Only its poetical passages are prized. The quaint legends that are found here and there in mediaeval chronicles, light- ing up the dreary banalities, are an implicit testimony to the power of imagination. Herodotus was not so accurate an historian as Thucydides, but we prefer his almost epic narration. The Odyssey outweighs them both. Genuine poetry, like gold, is universal and survives all permutations. The Hebrew psalms, or their prototypes, the canticles of the Akkads, lose little in beauty or majesty translated into any language. While form makes a large part of the beauty of poetry, yet poetry is more than form. Homer in prose is more satisfactory than Homer in English hexameters. If the thought and the spirit are preserved, the metre of a translation is of comparatively small con- sequence. There is in literature something akin to exosmosis in phys- ics. Just as two gases confined in contiguous receptacles tend to mingle, so great poems go from one language to another. Sooner or later this process must take place. Everything good in Greek and Latin already exists in every modern tongue. If we believe in Emerson, there is no need of learning foreign languages : he found it more satisfactory to read their literatures in his own. This is especially true of the more difficult languages like Russian, Hungarian, Persian, and Arabic, which few have time to master. We must depend on translations. Oriental poetry has had two serious drawbacks : first, those that dovote themselves to the languages in which these poems are found are generally men of affairs and not pcets ; and secondly, the thought and spirit as well as the form are so alien and opposed to the practical* direct, and simple mind of the Westerner that his interpretation is often only a shot into the air, a guess likely to go amiss. Words simple in themselves, compounded form concepts of far different potentiality, just as charcoal and saltpetre put together make an explosive mixture. Thus in the Bustan of Sa'di Introduction. ix Darius, Dara, Lord of Iran and Turan, is called far-nth, literally glory-cheek, which being interpreted means divine. A slave is expressed by the words halqadar-gush (ring-in- ear.) It is not without significance that Greece in Persian is called Rome — Rum ! Not only words but whole sen- tences must be interpreted with liberal imagination. Thus when Sa'di in his ghazel says, " If the sword is in thy hand, win the victory,' 1 he only means, Be a genuine poet if thou hast the skill. When a famine is spoken of, its effects on men are indi- cated thus : " So lean a year was it that the full moon of men's faces became a new moon.'" These difficulties, which are inherent, become intensified when the poet purposely mystifies and subtilizes. Wine no longer signifies wine, but the spirit ; no word has its normal meaning, and every line must have a gloss and a sophisticated interpretation. No wonder the direct Western mind finds itself puzzled over these complications. It is instructive to compare the earlier and later versions of an identical poem. The grammar of Persian is as simple and bald as Eng- lish. Into its historical strata, allied indeed to English as even more closely to ancient Greek and Sanskrit, was injected a wonderful conglomerate of Arabic. Almost every Persian word has its Semitic equivalent and syno- nyme, giving a richness to the language analogous to what Chaucer found in the Normanized Saxon of his day. Arabic plurals are added to Iranian roots ; the fecundity of rhymes is vastly increased, so that in many poems there are com- mencement and mid-verse, as well as final, agreements, and, not content with masculine and feminine rhymes, the poet often carried the stress back four or five, or even six, syl- lables : as haryha bashad and ka,7yha bashad. The Oriental delight in puns finds frequent expression, and the thought is still further hidden from the unaided eye of the mind. x Introduction. These are a few of the reasons why the vast mass of Eastern poetry is such a dark continent of literature. It still waits and invites investigation by the well-equipped explorer. The popularity of Sohrab and Rustem, of Sir Edwin Arnold's paraphrases, and especially Edward Fitz- gerald's free and easy translations, seems to indicate that the way has been prepared for a more general exploitation of this splendid field ; but the poet of sufficient learning has not as yet appeared. Meantime we must content ourselves with the efforts that have already been made. They are by different hands and of greatly differing merit. The material is widely scattered, and to gather it together, to winnow out the best, requires judgment and literary skill. Those that read the selections that follow will decide for themselves whether the poetry is or is not worthy of preservation. 1 II. Primitive Persian literature is scarcely more than a name. There are a few arrowhead inscriptions carved in the solid rock. The Avesta written in old Baktrian, was taken by the Parsee into India at the time of the Mohammedan con- quest. Nothing was known of its existence till the eigh- teenth century. The first manuscript was brought to England in 1723 ; it was not translated into any European language until 1771. Even now scholars have scarcely ceased quarrelling over its interpretation. It is only a frag- ment of its former vastness, but this fragment contains many yasts or hymns, sonorous and majestic like the long Mihir Yast in which the virtues and powers of Mithra are extolled. They are attributed to Zarathustra or Zoroaster himself. " We sacrifice unto the undying, shining, swift-horsed Sun? sings the Khorshed Yast. " When the light of the Sun !The curious will note with what assiduity the Irish cultivate Per- sian. The resemblance of the native name of Persia, Eran, to the native name of Ireland, Erin, is significant. Introduction. xi waxes warmer, then up stand the heavenly Yazatas (or Good Gods), by hundreds and thousands, they gather to- gether its Glory ; they make its Glory pass down ; they pour its Glory upon the earth made by Ahura,for the increase of the world of holiness, for the increase of the creatures of holiness, for the increase of the undying, shining, swift- horsed Sun . " And when the Sun rises up, then the earth made by Ahura becomes clean ; the waters of the wells become clean ; the waters of the sea become clean ; the standing waters become clean ; all the holy creatures, the creatures of the Good Spirit, become clean.''' 1 The language of these yasts is different from that dialect in which the rest of the Avesta is composed ; its rhythmi- cal forms also differentiate it ; and the science of compara- tive philology has established its kinship with the language of the Cuneiform inscriptions left by Cyrus and the other Achemenidae, and with Sanskrit. But the enterprise of modern scholarship has not as yet succeeded in finding any royal Persian library such as the explorers have found in Assyria. Persia, which has been called "the highway of the human race, 11 has been trodden under foot too many times by conquering armies to retain many vestiges of her indigenous literature. If Alexander the Great spared any of her secular books, they have long since perished. Whatever was saved exists only in permuted form in the legends and stories which later poets wove into their works. Even her history is legendary, and no one knows whether the so-called Pishdadian dynasty ever existed. It is quite possible that the book of Esther in the Bible may have been taken with slight changes by its unknown Hebrew author from some ancient apologue. The Cyro- pa>deia is a characteristic Persian romance, and some schol- ars are fain to believe that Xenophon may have heard it, or parts of it, during his celebrated expedition against the great king. xii Introduction. The Shah-IVameh is a repository of tales and legends which Firdausi only revamped from antecedent sources. Hundreds of the short stories used by later poets to illus- trate their teachings may have been handed down from those far-off days. We may believe that similar conditions of fertility, wealth, and beauty such as brought forth in one era a multitude of singers, had similar results in ancient Eran. There is no trace of Persian literature from the time of the overthrow of the Achemenian kingdom by Alexander the Great, or during all the reign of the Parthian Arsa- cidae. In a.d. 226, Ardesher I. founded the new national dynasty of the Sassanidae, whose official language was that " high piping Pehlevi, 11 or Pahlavi, mentioned in Omar Khayyam. It had a special script, and is still preserved comparatively free from impurities, by the million and a half of Parsees in Bombay and the scattered remnants of the fire-worshippers in Yezd. They preserved naturally only the religious works of that epoch : a cosmogony and geography, theological treatises and a vision of the Fu- ture Life, compared by the curious with Dante's Divine Comedy: the Book of Arda, Son of Viraf Every- thing else is lost ; the splendor and liberality of Chosroes the greatest of the Sassanian kings is but a name ; its only relics exist in the works of later poets, just as the ruins of a temple may be built into a palace. Yet we know that Bahram-Gor, 1 who reigned from 420 till 438, was fond of listening to popular ballads, one of which Firdausi has preserved. In the time of Khuzrev Parvez, who reigned from 590 till 628. there were two rival poets, Barbed and Serghish (Sergius, a Gr^eek ?), and Barbed, a native of Shiraz, was appointed poet laureate and used to delight the court with his graceful rhymes : some of these, or at least their titles, Firdausi also preserved. 1 The Persians claim that he himself not only was a poet, but also invented rhyme. Introduction, xiii Professor Pizzi claims that the form of lyric verse called by the Arabs qasida or kasida, in which there is always a eulogy of some prince, is the continuation or transforma- tion of the ancient Iranian hymn celebrating the gods and heroes and their doughty deeds : " a far-off echo of other praises offered with equal enthusiasm to masters not frail but immortal.'" Surely in literature, as in Nature, no ele- ment is lost. For two hundred years after the Arabic conquest (in 641), such Persian poets as have come down to our knowl- edge adopted Arabic as their medium of expression, and that curious modification of Persian began which gave the language its script and its ill-fitting grammar and its multi- tude of alien Semitic words. Thalebi, a native of Nisha- pur, wrote in 1038 a book in Arabic, entitled The Only Pearl of the World, giving a list of the poets that flour- ished during the first centuries after the Hijra. Slant nominum umbrce. When the bigoted Khalifs ordered all Persian books to be burned, on the ground that the Koran was the only literature worth having, they could not destroy the spirit of a nation's past. III. The vitality of a language is in proportion to its sim- plicity. As Latin gave way to the simpler idioms which it tried to supplant, or coalesced with them in still less com- plicated forms, so Arabic was ultimately replaced by Farsi or modern Persian. This was a natural outcome of the law that disintegrates great kingdoms. The genius of a conqueror like Alexander the Great or the Khalif Omar may be able for a time to make the wide and alien prov- inces cohere, but his successors fail. His children become rivals, and then the suppressed nationalities wake to revo- lution. Such was the case with the reign of the Khalifs of Damascus and Baghdad. Under the Samanian Shahs, xiv Introduction, who reigned during the tenth century (901-998), Persian again became a literary language. One of these kings, Nasr, had a reign of thirty years, and under him flourished the blind poet Rudaghi or Rudaki, 1 who has been called the Father of Persian poetry. He was born about 880 in the village of Rudag near Samarkand, and at the age of eight knew the Koran by heart and was already beginning to improvise verses. Shah Nasr richly rewarded him, and he died at the age of seventy-four or possibly earlier. He put into verse the book of Kalila and Dimna, which the Sassanian King Chosroes had brought from India. But that version is lost, and lost likewise are most of the million three hundred thousand distichs which he is said to have composed. A hundred books of poetry perished ! The few lines that have survived display vigor of expres- sion, freshness of imagery, and clearness of ideas. He was too prodigal of his praises of Nasr, whom he compares in power to Alexander the Great, and in wisdom to Plato, but he set the key for Persian verse : he sang the delights of the budding spring, the cruelty and pride of his absent mistress, the sleepless nights and the sorrows which she caused him. Wine also he sang and the pleasures of youth. His descriptions of his love are exquisite : her eyes like twin narcissus flowers blooming under the curve of the dark brows ; her silk-soft cheeks, her black hair like a net to capture the heart ; he recalls so passionately the old days when joy was plentiful and money scarce ; when beautiful-bosomed girls came to meet him and they drank the limpid wine. What, compared to those happy days, are the glory and the favor showered upon him by the glorious race of the Samanidae ? But the happy days of the sprightly, black-eyed, Houri-like maidens is passed : the world is all illusion and vanity. Bring me wine, and then let what must come, come! Rudaghi was not the only poet of that day. The 1 Ferid ud-Din Muhammad Rudaghi. Introduction. xv spring sun brings forth more than one violet from the same meadow. Abu Shukur of Balkh also complained of the misfortunes of love and harped or luted the beauty of his mistress. There was Shahid, also of Balkh, whose death Rudaghi bewailed in verse. He also saw in this world only misfortune and vanity ; wisdom is the only pearl ; death the only consolation for a ruined world. Dakiki or Daqiqi, no one knows where born, whether at Bukhara or at Samarkand or at Tus, or how long he lived, was commissioned by Nuh, the son of the Samanian Man- sur, to compose an epic version of the Book of Kings. He had made a beginning when he was killed by a slave, or page. Firdausi commemorated his character, his gen- tle spirit, and the death that came suddenly upon him, and incorporated in the Shah-Nameh the thousand lines or more in which the deeds of King Gushtasp are narrated. He too sang of spring and the breath of paradise breath- ing over the earth, young love writing its story on the desert sand, and the sweet roses. Four things he loved: the passionate pleading of the lute and the religion of Zerdusht (or Zoroaster) and sweet blood-hued wine and ruby lips. He too mourned in languishing strain the night when his lips were widowed of his love's. He would not wish to live if he must live without his mistress, the idol of his heart. He loved moonlight nights when the world was bright and the verdure spread out over the meadow like a Greek vestment : Come, let us drink wine and sing jocund songs ! He yearned for change : just as water which stands too long in the pool grows stagnant, so he too long remaining in one place, however illustrious, waxes dis- contented. A poet of distinguished station was the Emir Agachi of Bukhara, governor of Bayan. He was a warrior as well as a philosopher. Chinese in its terseness is his famous poem on the snowstorm : " Look up at the sky and see the ar?ny of the snow/lakes fly ! Like white doves the hawks affray, xvi Introduction. they lose their way! Little of his verse remains, but he recorded in one stanza his love for his horse, his bow, his book and poetry, his lute, and his pen. ( )nuir. the astronomer-poet, had his prototype in Umarah or Amari of Merv, whose fame lasted for many generations. He lived at court honored as an astronomer and a poet. Later writers found in his writings, as in Omar's, the mystic doctrine of the Sufis. He bids his love perform the miracle of mingling fire and water: " Look at that cup and that liquid ! the cup is white and within it is a clear wine ruby- luted I That is how fire is mingled with water I " It reminds one of Ben Jonson's poem : — " Drink to vie only with thine eyes." His " idol " holds a wine-cup in her hand : it is the union of sun and moon ! When she lifts the' wine-cup and the ruby reflection of the wine shines on her lovely face, a shade of displeasure passes over it, but when the wine pours through her silver-white teeth it is as if the trailing garments of the moon delayed among the Pleiades upon the shining sky. " Thy desire, he sings, shall work fulfilled to-day, Soon thou unit come to the realms of thy fathers. All the hopes of the sons of Adam hang on the neck of to-morrow'' The same melancholy minor sounds in the verse of Ghi- lani. of whom nothing is known, and only a few lines remain : Like the autumn wind and like the spring clouds the time of his youth had fled from him! He recalls the days when his cheeks were flushed with health, when his ears were ever ringing with music and song, when his hands grasped the wine-cup proffered by what Mr. John Payne calls the skinker! — the mughan whom we much prefer to imagine a lovely damsel. But he ends it with the wail : A weeping and recalling the bright days ith : oh, my youth, my youth ! This cry for vanished youth is echoed by Khusravani, Introduction. xvii who was almost as much of a mocker as Omar. He satirizes the old men who would try to deceive death by dyeing their gray hairs; and as he lies on his deathbed he finds no grain of comfort in the leech or the priest or the astrologer or the quack with their medicaments, prayers, horoscopes, and talismans. The few relics of these poets out of the enormous mass of verse which they composed, the unknown verse of others scarcely less known, the verse not known at all, make it probable that what is lost is no great loss. What poet lived in that half century between Rudaghi and Kisayi? Kisayi was born at Merv in February, 952 ; in an elegy written just before his death, he tells of his ambitions : to make songs and to enjoy all the good things of life. But instead he served like a mule, like a slave, and at the end what had he ? It is the old song : vanished youth, sweet joy of existence, beauty, fair girls, and wine, all departed. In his old age, with his head which has the whiteness of milk, there is nothing left but the fear of death, which makes him tremble as disobedient schoolgirls shake with terror at the lash. It is said that in his last unhappy days he gave himself up to a religious life and to the acquisition of what he calls true riches. Yet, like the hermit in the old Spanish tale, he looked back with yearning eyes on the life which he had desired but had not obtained. His poems on the lotus and the rose are exquisite, and the invi- tation which the bulbul utters, ll Take thy true love by the hand in the early dawn and fly with him down into the garden," is an admirable example of Persian grace. IV. It will be seen that there was no sudden flaring up of Persian poetry in the person of Firdausi. He was the greatest of all. Not only as an epic poet but as a lyric poet he surpassed all others : the poem in which he xviii Introduction. dreamed that he was lying in the dust his heart consumed with anguish for his absent love and suddenly she entered ( or is it he ?) before him, is a marvellous effort of the imagination ; the vividness of the dream and the passion of longing which it expresses are seldom excelled in litera- ture ; the picture of the daybreak interrupting the happy reunion is exquisitely painted. Firdausi's contemporary and friend or rival (who can tell?), Farrukhi. had a happier lot. He was a native of Sistan, where his father was in the service of the governor. He early began to write poetry, and having a good voice was accustomed to sing his songs to the accompaniment of the lute. He fell in love with a slave of the gov- ernor's, but marriage with her brought him no increase of fortune. But he managed to have some of his songs and kasidas brought to the notice of a wealthy prince of Balkh. Through him he was introduced to Mahmud of Ghazni, where he soon acquired great honors and riches. He fell into disfavor shortly before Mah mud's death in 1030, and survived him seven years. Of his love songs none exist; none of his narrative poems have come down to us. His eulogy of Mahmud as a warrior has been pre- served, and there are descriptions which he wrote of a royal hunt and of Mahmud's garden at Ghazni, which he compares to the glorious Kausar-watered paradise of the Mohammedans. Still another of Firdausi's contemporaries was Unsuri or Ansari, a native of Balkh. At first he was a merchant, but having been robbed of all he had, he turned poet, and was introduced to the court of Mahmud, who speedily enriched him so that he was able to use kitchen utensils of silver and his table service was of gold. For a single song he is said to have received a thousand gold dinars, equivalent to £2000. lie died about 1040. He enjoyed the distinction of being called " king of poets,' 1 and when it is related that no less than four hundred rhvmesters solicited of him Introduction. xix favors and honors from the Shah, one can easily believe that he earned his salary. He was praised and eulogized by this throng of hungry applicants, whatever envy they may have felt in their hearts, and more of their eulogies of him have come to us than of his own poetry. It is pleasant to believe that he had sufficient grace to recognize in Firdausi a greater man than himself, and that he magnani- mously renounced the commission of writing the Shah- Nameh in his favor. He himself wrote in Persian verse the ancient tale of Vamik and Azra and two other long poems now lost ; indeed his contribution to the lyre of his day was no less than thirty thousand verses, of which now only two or three insignificant fragments remain. Persian poetry is generally considered as beginning with Abul Iasim Mansur, surnamed Firdausi, the son of Fakhr ud-din Ahmed of Tus in Khorasan. His name of Fir- dausi is the same as the Greek Paradeisos, our paradise, and may signify that he was the son of a gardener or a gardener himself, or that it was a poetical appellation, just as Omar may have been a tent-maker, and the Shaikh Farid ud-din Attar, a druggist. He is said to have been educated by his father, and to have been in the poetic art the pupil of Abu Nasr Asad ud-Din Ahmed Ibn Mansur, known as Asadi or Essedi. Various stories are told of his introduction to Mahmud. One of them is that Asadi, who was invited to try his hand at putting the old Book of Kings into the new Persian, turned it over to his pupil. If, as it is said, the news had gone abroad that the great enterprise was waiting the master hand, the presence of four hundred poets at Ghazni is easily explained. And also the obstacles which they put into Firdausi's way before he had a chance to be heard. But when once Mahmud had listened to the story of Rustem and Isfendyar, he turned the ancient books over to the young poet, gave him a house in a garden, the inspiration of a beautiful young page who should supply xx Introduction. him with all that cheered as well as inebriated, and at desired intervals should touch the strings of the lute. All that and the promise of a gold piece for every line! Truly those ••halt-barbarous 1 ' provinces of Persia were the paradise for poets, and all that have lived since have been "idle singers of an empty day. 11 And no wonder Fir- dausi wrote the longest poem that was ever put on record. It was finished in 1009, and by a sort of miracle it has come clown to our day intact, while so many thousands of poems have perished. Firdausi's tomb is said to have been still standing, not far from Tus, at the beginning of the last century, but it is now wholly destroyed and the place where the greatest poet of Persia was buried is unknown. But the poem itself is said to have lived in the hearts of the people, just as the Gerusalemme Liberata of Tasso is preserved in the memory of the Venetians. It was first collated by Baysingher, the nephew of Timur the Great (Tamerlane), about 1425. Sir William Jones, about 1774, brought it to the notice of European scholars ; he supposed it was a collection of poems by different authors. In 1814, Atkin- son published in Calcutta the episode of Sohrab, in an English version. The entire text was published in four volumes in 1829; Mohl's edition in six volumes, containing the Persian and his French prose version, appeared in Paris in 1850- 1866. It still awaits the English scholar to perform a like task. Firdausi has been rightly called the Homer of Persia, since he, like the unknown unifier of the Grecian national songs, gathered together the scattered legends of ancient Persia. Pizzi says that the central subject of the long and magnificent narrative of the Persian epopie is the secular Introduction. xxi struggle of the Iranians against the Devi or Demons, by whom are meant a primitive people subjected by them, and against the Turanians, a barbaric and ferocious nation from Northern Asia beyond the Oxus. This struggle became confused or entangled with the basic dualism of the reli- gion of Zarathustra, which always held up the eternal opposition between good and evil, light and darkness, truth and falsehood, life and death, typified on the one hand in the beneficent creative god Ahura Mazda, or Ormuzd, and on the other, by the malign god Anra Mainyu. or Ahriman. Not only gods, but demigods, and heroes, superhuman as well as common, took part in the epic struggle. The position of the early Iranians, between the snowclad mountains and the desert, may well have given birth to this religion of violent contrasts. Out of it grew the national epic, as from the German theogony arose the Nibelungen- lied. It was a marvellous conception, and deserves its Wagner to bring it also into the realm of music and the drama. Nothing is more interesting than the transforma- tion of the ingenious metal workers of ancient subjected populations through popular superstition into supernatural beings. Thus the palaces of King Jamshid and of Kai Kavus were the creation of the Devi ; these miraculous beings taught King Tamuras to write, and they flew through the sky carrying on their shoulders the throne of Jamshid. In the same way Hephaistos in Greece was a lame and dis- reputable god working in subterranean forges ; in the same way the Kobolds of the German legend dwelt in the bowels of the mountains and fabricated wondrous armor. Crimes and vices became personified in the forms of these Devi. Often they underwent grotesque transformations, as Fir- dausi conscientiously relates. Comparative mythology and comparative 'philology bind closely together the hidden elements of all the great epics : the same nature gods appear in the Vedas and the Avesta, in the Iliad and the Sagas. The Muse of history can disentangle XXII Introduction. and interpret the secret history of our Aryan ancestors in the myths of the Shah-Nameh. Firdausi was not the only Persian poet to draw his inspiration from the Book of Kings: Abu'l Hasan Ali, the son of Firdausi's teacher Asadi, and also known as Asadi, wrote the Ghershasp-Nameh or Book of Gher- shasp, which was an episode neglected by Firdausi. Still another imitative continuation or complement was the Sam-Nameh, or Book of Sam, eleven thousand lines in length, describing the wars of that hero in China, his loves with the beautiful Peri-dokht, daughter of the Chi- nese emperor and mother of Zal, and the discovery of the treasures of King Jamshid. The authorship of this work is not known, but is supposed to be of much later date. There are in manuscript still other epics belonging to the same cycle, and relating the exploits of RustenVs sons, Gihau-ghir, Feramurz, and Sohrab. The pathetic story of Rustem and Sohrab also found many imitators, and Sohrab himself, if we may believe these unknown poets, had sev- eral sons whose gallant deeds fill many weary lines. VI. It would take a volume to give even a hint at the con- tents of all the Persian poets, Whose ghazels and rubaiyat (or quatrains), and kasidas and contrasts, fill the multi- tudinous manuscripts collected with patient zeal by so many Persian scribes. Von Hammer and Ethe and Pizzi have analyzed their works and published more or less faith- ful versions of their characteristic verses. There are hun- dreds of them, but the sacred number seven enumerates those that the Persians themselves and critics generally consider the greatest. These, beside Firdausi. are Anvari, Nizami. Jalal ud-Din Kumi, Sa'di, Hafiz, and Jami. These are the seven great stars of the Pleiades, though the astron- Introduction, xxiii omer with his opera glass can find almost countless thou- sands twinkling in the literary firmament : Azraki and Amiq and Hanzalah and Humam-ud-Din and Isfarangi and Khusrev of Delhi, and Mahmud Ibn Abd ul-Kerim Ibn Yahya Shabisteri and others with equally long names from Abbas to Zagani. Of recent years, the Western world has discovered in Abu 1 ! Fath Umar Ibn Ibrahim Khayyami, known as Omar the TenttMaker, one of the greatest and certainly now the most popular of the Persian Pleiads. He burned out into the first magnitude like Nova Persei, but has not faded. In Persia he is scarcely known. An American woman, long resident in Paris, happened to know the Persian con- sul there, and recently showed to him Sibleigrfs French ver- sion of Fitzgerald. He had never heard of Omar Khayyam, was amazed at the proportions of the cult when it was explained to him, was delighted with the verses, and grate- ful to have been introduced to such a fascinating author of his own country. A large part of the verse attributed to Omar consists undoubtedly of spurious quatrains, imitations of the orig- inal being as facile to make as imitations of his English understudy. Nor are the stories of his life founded on authentic documents. 1 All the more remarkable, there- fore, is the distinctness of his personality, especially when one realizes that he touched no new chord ; it is the old strain of pessimism, with gleams of satiric humor tem- pered with liberality. His popularity may be partially explained by his comparative simplicity. There are few of the far-fetched conceits so characteristic of Oriental poetry. It is direct and therefore universal, and even 1 Most that is known or fabled about him, including the recent discovery of references to him embodied in the article in Baron Rosen's testimonial volume, has been woven into a romance of his life : Omar the Tent-Maker, by Nathan Haskell Dole, Boston, i8o8. XXIV Introduction. that are not inclined to accept his philosophy of life feel the spell of his graceful melancholy, his audacious irreverence for empty forms, and his frank enjoyment of present pleasure. Fascinating as Fitzgerald's English ver- sion is, its uniform measure and simplicity of rhyme give little idea of the varying rhythms and captivating compli- cated rhymes of the original Persian. Mr. John Payne has translated all of the verse attributed to him into measure purporting to represent the original, but such a tour de force must of necessity fail. Only two or three in a hun- dred lend themselves to such imitation. Here is one that gives a fair idea of the Persian : — '• The Breath of the early Spring in the Face of the Rose is sweet ; '1 In- Face of my Love in the shade of the garden-close is sweet ; ■ thou canst say of the Day that has vanished away is sweet ; Be happy ; think not of the Past for To-day as it glows is sweety If one could only twist the word "sweet" into a play on the word "suite." it would be still more after the Persian manner. Arhad ud-Din Anvari is known as the chief poet of courtly elegance and high-flown encomium, the praiser of princes and the satirist of love-lorn ghazelists. He was a native of the province of Dasht. He studied astronomy and other sciences in the college of Tus, and it is said that as he was sitting one day at the gate of the school, he saw, passing by, a great lord accompanied by a throng of attend- ants magnificently arrayed. When he learned that it was a court poet, he instantly resolved to be likewise a court poet. He composed a panegyric in honor of Sanjar, and asked to be received at court. His prayer was heard, and he lived in great honor until into the reign of Toghrul, son of Alp Arslan. His fall from grace was due to a prediction on which his credit as an astronomer depended. He an- nounced that in consequence of a conjunction of the seven planets in Libra in the autumn of 1185 a terrible convul- sion of nature would take place. People were frightened, Introduction. xxv and took refuge in the mountains and in caverns ; but, on the day set, the sun rose cloudless and the breeze scarcely blew. Anvari took this defeat so completely to heart that he returned to Nishapur ; then to Balkh, where he died, either in 1191 or 1195. One of his best poems was written in behalf of Sanjar, when that prince was captured and imprisoned by a Turko- man horde that had overrun Khorasan. It was sent to Ahmed, son of Suleiman, at Samarkand, and resulted in Sanjar 1 s liberation. It has been called The Tears of Khorasan. It begins with an exordium to the morning wind as it passes by Samarkand to bear to the sovereign king "the plaint of Khurasania plunged in woe. 11 It tells of the unhappy state of Khorasan and her people — a tale so grievous that it would tear the ears to hear it ; to see would suffuse the eyes with tears of blood. It begs the Prince of Sarmarkand to come and wreak vengeance ort the cursed, turbulent Ghuzi. It gives a piteous descrip- tion of the excesses committed by these barbarians — the mosques converted into stables, the nobles reduced to serve as slaves, the ravished virgins, and the ruined homes. He begs him by that God who allows him to coin money, who has placed the diadem on his brow, to rescue from these ra- pacious, vile, and cruel Turkomans the heart of God's people. This poem was translated by Captain Fitzpatrick for the Asiatic Miscellany of 1785 ; but, like most Oriental poetry rendered into English at that time, is so hopelessly alien in form and spirit to the original that it is not worth citing. In his last melancholy days, Anvari satirizes the poets that lie awake all night trying to describe sugary lips and curl- ing tresses. He himself had composed songs and satires, but as such work is unworthy of a man, he confesses the harm and violence his genius had done to others, and resolves to find the path of security in the religious life aloof from the world. One seeks in vain to find in English any adequate translation of Anvari's works. xxvi Introduction. VII. If we had all of Nizami's fivefold works. 1 it would be in itself a sea of verse. Little is known of him except that he was born in 1141 in the mountainous region of Rum, and spent the larger part of his life at Ganja in Arran, where he died in 1201 or 1202. His tomb was still shown threescore years ago. His first work was the Makhzan ,'/-, or Treasury of Mysteries, composed in 1179. This was followed by four romantic poems of epic propor- tions : The Story of Khusrev and Shirina, taken from ancient Persian history ; the famous Bedouin love story of Majnun and Lad/ ; the Haft Paikar or Seven Bean- tics, in which he relates the adventures of the Sassanian King and Huntsman Bahram-Gor and his seven wives; the Fortunes of Alexander or Book of Iskander (fskan- der-NameK), an epic after the manner of Firdausi. It is said that he also published (in 1188) a Divan, or collec- tion of ghazels and kasidas numbering twenty thousand verses. But most of these have perished. Nizami is rep- resented in this volume by extracts from Majnun and Lad/. Sa'di says of him : — " Gone is Nizami, our exquisite pearl, which Heaven in its kindness Formed of the purest dew, formed for the gem of the world! 1 "almfy it shone in its brightness, but by the world unregarded, Heaven assuming its gift, laid it again in its Shell." and I lafiz writes : — " This ancient vault containeth nothing beneath it com- parable in beauty to the words of Nizami.' 1 ' 1 One might perhaps mention here the epic and lyric poel Khusrev «»t Delhi, who imitated Nizami in his mystic poem, the Malta ul-Anvar. or Of the Stars, in his Ayinab-i Iskander or Minor of Alexander, and in his Hasht 1 Known in Persian as Penj Ghenj or The Five Treasures; in Arabic simply as Khamsa, or The Five. Introduction. xxvii Bihisht or Eight Paradises. He boasted of having com- posed nearly a half million couplets. One of his quat- rains has a melancholy beauty : " / went to the grave- yard and wept bitterly for absent friends now the captives of non-existence. i Where are they," 1 I asked in sadness, 1 those dear friends of my heart f ' And a voice from the grave softly replied : i Where are they t ' r Of Rumi, Sa'di, Hafiz, and Jami, this book speaks more fully, each in his proper place, and with abundant illustra- tions of their famous verse. VIII. One cannot leave the subject of Persian poetry without a word regarding the mysticism which permeates it. To us who read poetry for poetry's sake the mystic interpreta- tion is almost an impertinence. Just as we know that the Faerie Queene is a morality in verse, and Pilgrim' 1 s Progress is a morality in prose, but find all of # our pleasure in them apart from the poet's and the preacher's primary intent, so we resent the Sufistic reading of esoteric spiritual mean- ings into verse that is sufficient for us in its simple outward beauty. Nevertheless, we cannot avoid the fact that most Persian lyric poetry is double in its significance, and has been so interpreted. All Persian mysticism goes back to the philosophic con- ception of God : if one believes that God is the responsible source of all action, then logically there can be no sin, no difference between creeds ; man may say boldly as two of the earliest mystics, Hallaj and Bestam, said, " I am God," since light reflected is still light. Shabistari demands: " What are mosque, synagogue and monastery ? What value have they in presence of the genuine religion of the mind and the heart, free from every bond of form?' 1 So Omar Khayyam makes sport of the two and seventy sects. What is heresy to him? What is Islamism or sin or piety? xxviii Introduction. God alone is his goal. " He is a good fellow — all will be well, 1 ' he says, in his boldly irreverent style. Love becomes then a mystic passion, signifying union with God, and all the passionate utterances of the Persian poets are interpreted in a manner exactly analogous to the ecclesiastical explanation of the Song of Solomon, which in its outward form is certainly suggestive of anything but spirituality. Sufism is a form of mysticism. The Sufis formed a body of fanatic believers, living in monasteries or colleges under the guidance of an acknowledged master, and devoting their lives to philosophic study and to works of ascetic charity. The origin of the word is not surely known ; but some would derive it from the Greek Sophia, mean- ing wisdom, for of course Greek philosophy made its way to Persia in very early days, and later neo-Platonic and gnostic ideas attached themselves to Oriental thought. Abu Said, of Khorasan, who died in 1048, is said to have established a rule for the mystics. But Abu Hashim, a native of Kufa, who died at Damascus in 767, has the rep- utation of having established the first monastery, or, at least, to have belonged to it. The spread of mysticism in Persia is attributed, in no small measure, to the ancient inheritance of the people. The lofty teachings of the Avesta were rendered terrible to people by a ritual which was only equalled in its barbarity by the tabu of the South Pacific. Islam freed them from that unspeakable burden, but the lofty teachings still remained a holy memory. The fatalism which undoubtedly made beggary and vagabond- age an easy and welcome refuge for the lazy, found its loftiest expression in many of the Persian poets : in Ubu Said, Attar, Rumi, Sa'di, and Nasir. The first of the mystic poets was Abu Said of Khora- san, who was born in 967, and died in 1048. The accounts of his life declare that he was converted to asceticism by Introduction. xxix a crazy man named Lokman. Abu Said for seven years sat in one corner of a monastery, crying, " God ! God ! " Thus he obtained the reputation of being a saint, and when he removed to the desert, people came on pilgrimages to him, and bought for twenty dinars the seeds of the tama- rind fruit from the tree under which he sat. He declared, wholly in the spirit of mediaeval ecclesiasticism. " the more a man knows of this world, the less he knows of God," a curious modification of Christ's command to be like little children. When asked what the real life of a Sufi was, he replied, " To put from the body all thou hast, give all that thou hast in thy hand, and care not whatever may befall.' 1 Love, according to him, was "the net of God, whereby he catches man.'" He was the friend of Abu Ali Ibn Sina or Avicenna, who said of him, "He sees all that I know. 11 Of Abu Sina, he said, " He knows all that I see. 11 His rubaiyat are passionate to a de- gree : — " Let Rizvan angel of paradise have his splendor, let the angels have their praise" he sings, " let the guilty suffer in hell, let the good enjoy paradise, let the Kings of China and Persia and Rum have this world, but we have our lovely ones, our lovely ones have us! " " On that day when thou shall be my spouse, I shall not envy the blessed their delights in paradise. Without thee heaven were a desert ; with thee the desert were heaven." He sings of spending the long night with his idol, and no end of their sweet intercourse ensued : " What fault has the night? 11 he asks, " we had so much to say! " "/ said, i For whom adornest thou thyself f ' For my own pleasure,' 1 she replied. i for I am the only one, I am love, I a?n the lover, I am the beautiful one, the mirror and the beauty which beholds itself therein? " " Ah, thou whose brow is like the moon which beautifies all the world, thou whom to be with both night and day all hearts desire — if thou art sweet to any more than me, xxx Introduction. alas! how full of woe am II How unhappy all the rest if thou to thou art what thou art to me ! " Here, as everywhere, the beloved one thus passionately adored is God. Nasir, the son of Khusrev, another of the mystic poets, was born in Balkh in 1003. He was in the service of the Seljukian Prince Chakar-beg Daud ; but, when he was about forty, he was admonished in a dream to go to Mecca. Then he travelled for seven years, and wrote a description of his adventures. He was also author of the mystic Rushanai Nameh or Book of Light. His acquaintance with the world opened his mind, and he was persecuted as a heretic ; consequently he returned to Yumgan in the province of Badakhshan, and lived there in solitude, vis- ited occasionally by the devout. He had a few ardent followers. There he died in 1088. The principal founda- tion of his teachings was the Greek injunction, " Know thy- self." Only by self-knowledge can one know God. And he sings God's praise and proclaims the vanity of all earthly things. Sufficient happiness for him is a garden, and if in that garden he has his friend, " then the Spring Roses bloom, and those roses have no thorns." Still another of the minor mystic poets was Afzal-ud-Din Ibrahim Ibn Ali Shirvani, known as Khakani because he lived at the court of the Prince of Shirvan, Khakan Kabir Minochihr. He was born about 1040. He was dis- gusted with court life, and determined to retire from the world and to live like a dervish But the Sultan would not hear to it. He therefore escaped from the court, but was captured, brought back, and confined for seven months in the castle of Shabran, where he had many Christians as his companions. During his confinement he composed a kasida full of bitter complaints, and speaking so freely of other religions that a friend of his wrote a commentary on it to remove the suspicion that Khakani was not a good Mo- hammedan. On his release, he remained for a time at court, Introduction. xxxi but was at last permitted to make a pilgrimage to Mecca. He described his journey in a poem called, The Gifts of the Two Iraks. He went to Tabriz to the court of Toghrul Beg, the last of the Seljukian Turks, and died there in 1186, or possibly 1 193. Many of his poems have been preserved, and he is regarded as certainly one of the sweet- est lyric voices of Persia. What could be lovelier than his ghazel, which begins, " / do not seek to find the moon : thy face is moon enough for me I" Of course, with his yearning for the ascetic life, the Sufis find in his love poems also the mystic desire of uniting his soul with God's. To him the meditations of the mystic life were preferable to the pleasures of the world. He, like all the East, believed the soul of man to be but an emanation from the essence of God, and his chief desire to be reabsorbed, as the bubble on the ocean breaks and falls back into the Infinite. Slightly earlier in time was the Shaikh Sanai, who was born at Ghazni about 11 18. He, like many of the other Persian poets, frequented the courts of the Ghasnavide kings and princes, and celebrated their deeds in his kasidas, but his conscience was awakened when he overheard some one remark, " Sanai with his learning is ignorant of the purpose for which God created him; when he appears before his Maker and is asked what he has brought with him, he will be able only to show panegyrics on kings and princes — mortals like himself. 11 The same critic, who was a crazy man, predicted that he would become blind. Sanai took these words to heart and devoted himself henceforth to the religious life, seeking instruction from the famous Shaikh Abu Yusuf of Hamadan, whose college or cell was called the Ka'ba of Khorasan. It is said that when Bahram-Shah desired to marry him to his sister, he wrote a quatrain declaring that he was not a man for women, honors, or gold, but all he wished was to be a 1 Abu'l-Maj'd Majdud Ibn Adam Sanai. xxxii Introduction. leader of religious men. His chief work bears the Arabic title of Hadigat-ul-Haqiqat" or Garden of Truth, ded- icated to his would-be brother-in-law, Bahram-Shah of Ghazni. It is divided into ten books and has been com- pared to Brunetto Latini's Tesoro an encyclopedic med- ley of all that was known in his day. One part praises the Koran, another declares the unity of God, another sings the glory of Mahomet, the prophet of Ali and his sons, martyrs for the faith ; others treat of human reason, of the excellence of knowledge, and the nature of love. The sixth part sets out to treat of the spirit of the universe, but the poet gets entangled in descriptions of spring and the beauty of the herbage, and the mystic doctrine still holds aloof. In the eighth he describes the stars and the marvels of the heavens: in the ninth he explains the nature of the unios of the soul with God. And finally, in the tenth part, he accumulates all that he should have logically distributed through the other nine, and so extends it that it constitutes a third of the whole work, which is composed of eleven thousand couplets. It is regarded as the pattern for the better known works of Attar and Rumi. IX. Enough has been said to show that the Persian litera- ture offers a vast field for study. The present volumes contain selections from the seven principal poets of Persia; they had naturally to be taken from such translations as already exist in English, and are therefore of varying value as representing the originals. But assuredly enough of the light shines through the more or less translucent me- dium to give a pleasing idea of the wealth of poetry which the wonderful land of Persia inspired. Much of what is best is here gathered, and whether taken in its liberal or its Introduction. xxxiii esoteric meaning, will find a response in the hearts of those that love lofty ideas melodiously expressed. 1 Nathan Haskell Dole. New York, April 27, 1901. 1 Throughout the book accents have been purposely omitted. The question of the transliteration of Persian and Arabic words and names, many of which have consonantal values not existing in Eng- lish, is hopelessly discordant and confused. There is Muhammad, Mahomet, Mohammed ; there is Koran and Qu'ran ; there is Omar and 'Umer ; there is Saadi and Sade and Sa'di ; there is rubayat and ruba'iyyat; there is Kaiam, Khayyam, Kheyam ; there is Makka, and Mekka and Mecca; Caliph, and Khalif and Kaleef; Dervish and Darwesh, and there are dozens of others. Every scholar has had apparently his own scheme, and the less he really knew, and the more he wished the world to think he knew, the more he sophisti- cated his spellings with breathings and accents and marks of quan- tity. Except in text-books, such affectations are impertinences and repel the reader. But consistency is the last jewel to be discovered in the spelling of Oriental words. FLOWERS FROM PERSIAN POETS. >xx< FIRDAUSI. Persian poetry begins in the tenth century with Fir- dausi, and practically ends in the fifteenth with Jami. The number of minor poets scattered through this time is legion ; indeed it has been well said that every Persian is born with a song on his lips. But of the famous poets there are seven preeminent, sometimes called " The Persian Pleiades. 1 ' Firdausi, although not the father of Persian poetry, 1 yet stands as the Homer of the East. Of his life we know little. His real name was Abul Kasim. He was born, according to Mohl,' 2 in the year ioio a.d., at Shadab, a suburb of Tus, a city in Khorasan. He married at the age of twenty-eight, and lived to be over eighty. It is said that the boyish dream of this future Chaucer of Persia — as Miss Costello calls him — was to have money enough to build a dike to keep the river which ran through his father's grounds 3 from overflowing its banks. This dream was realized, but not in the lifetime of Fir- 1 Rudaki was the father of Persian poetry. 2 Jules de Moh!, the great French authority. Atkinson places Firdausi's birth at about 950 A.D. ; Professor Pizzi, 940 A.D. 3 Firdausi's father is said to have been gardener for the Gov- ernor of Tus. According to some authorities, the name Firdausi, which is the Persian form for Paradise or Garden, was only the poetic takhallns assumed by the singer. I 2 Firdausi. dausi. Cheated, wronged, exiled, he died in obscurity, a disappointed old man. Such was the reward received for thirty years spent in writing the Shah-A r ameh, or Book of Kings, a national history in rhyme covering a period of 3600 years, from Kaiumers, 1 the first Pishdadian king, to the death of Yezdjird in 650 a.d. This book is called the Iliad of the East, and is, by the way, longer than the Iliad and Odyssey together, and is prized by Mohammedan nations as probably their greatest work. Briefly, this is the story of the Shah-Nameh,* combina- tion of fact and fiction handed down by the oral tradition. Yezdjird, the last Sasanian king, collected all the his- tories and traditions connected with Persia and had them put together. These formed the book known as the Bustan-Namek, which, during the Arabian conquest, was found in the sacked library belonging to Yezdjird. His- torical chronicles were afterward added, bringing it down to the death of Yezdjird. In the eleventh century this book fell into the hands of the great Mahmud of Ghazni, an accomplished monarch who had already ordered a his- tory of Persia to be written in verse. From the Bustan- Nameh he selected seven stories, which he distributed among the poets of his court, so that he might judge of their respective merits for the proposed history. To Unsari fell the story of Rustem and Sohrab ; Rustem is the Persian Hercules, although his labors were but seven instead of twelve. With this story Unsari did so well that at first to him was given the honor of writing the history ordered by Mahmud. Through Unsari, Firdausi, whose genius was becoming recognized, was brought under the patronage of the Sultan. The story of how this hap- pened is thus related : — It seems that Unsari and two other celebrated poets, Asjedi and Farrukhi, were drinking wine in a fair Persian 1 Kaiumers is the Adam of the fire-worshippers, grandson of Noah, according to the Mohammedans. Firdausi. 3 garden near Ghazni, when they saw a stranger approach, and fearing that he would interrupt them, decided to rid themselves of him by telling him that no one not a poet was allowed to join their company. When Firdausi de- clared that he also was a poet, they thus addressed him : " Well, then, we will each make an extemporaneous verse, and if you are able to follow them up with promptitude and effect, you shall be admitted as our approved companion. 11 Firdausi expressed his willingness to submit to this test, and Unsari thus began upon an apostrophe to a beautiful woman, making use of a word to which they knew of only two possible rhymes : — " The light of the moon in thy splendor would fail." Asjedi rejoined : — " The rose in the bloom of thy cheek would turn pale." Then Farrukhi : — " The glance of thine eye darts through close-woven mail." It was now Firdausi's turn ; and he said without a moment's pause, but with admirable felicity : — " Like the spear-thrusts of Ghiv, Poshen's armor assail." The poets were astonished at the readiness of the stranger; and being totally ignorant of the story of Ghiv and Poshen, inquired of him from whence it was derived ; when Firdausi related to them the encounter as described in the Bustan-Na?neh. Atkinson says that " they treated him with the greatest kindness and respect, and were so pleased with the power and genius he displayed on other subjects, that they recommended him to the patronage of Shah Mahmud." Other authorities state that they were jealous of him and interposed obstacles in his way. How- ever it was, he was brought to the notice of Mahmud, who became so delighted with him that no honors seemed too great to bestow upon him. One legend has it that he gave to the young poet the surname of Firdausi, saying: 4 Fir da it si. "You have made my court as resplendent as Firdus" (Paradise). He also promised him for every thousand couplets a thousand pieces of gold. So for years Firdausi sunned himself in royal favor, living near the palace in a beautiful house given him by the Sultan. The walls were decorated with martial scenes painted by the great artists of Persia, in order to fire the imagination of the poet. His work begins with a eulogy of the Sultan ; a verse of u hich is as follows : — " Praise, praise to Mahmud, who of like renown, In battle or the banquet, fills the throne; Lord of the realms of Chin and Hindustan, Sovereign and Lord of Persia and Turan, With his loud voice he rends the flintiest ear; On the land a tiger fierce, untouched by fear, And on the wave, he seems the crocodile That prowls amidst the waters of the Nile. Generous and brave, his equal is unknown ; In deeds of princely worth he stands alone. The infant in the cradle lisps his name; The world exults in Mahmud's spotless fame. In festive hours Heaven smiles upon his truth; In combat deadly as the dragon's tooth; Bounteous in all things, his exhaustless hand Diffuses blessings through the grateful land; And, of the noblest thoughts and actions, lord; The soul of Gabriel breathes in every word. May Heaven with added glory crown his days ; Praise, praise to mighty Mahmud— everlasting praise! " For thirty years Firdausi worked on the sixty thousand couplets 1 of the Shah-Nameh, refusing any money for it until it should be finished. In the eleventh century it was completed. Now, at this time there was in the court a Prime Minister, Hasan Meymendi, a conceited favorite of the Sultan. He, being jealous of the Persian poet laureate, who had not celebrated him in the poem, 1 Few copies now contain the original number. Firdausi. 5 used every means to injure him with the Sultan. When the elephant loaded with the promised payment reached Firdausi, imagine his surprise to find the gold had been changed into silver ! He was in a public bath at the time that the gift came, and was so enraged that he recklessly gave away the whole amount, a third of which went to the slave who brought it. " The Sultan shall know," said he, "that I did not bestow the labor of thirty years on a work to be rewarded with dirhems 1 !" The Sultan was at first ashamed of Hasan's unworthy treatment of Firdausi, but the clever and malicious minister, aided by jealous poets, argued that the Shah-Nameh was heretical, and finally Mahmud sentenced Firdausi to be trampled to death by elephants. Firdausi happened to meet Mahmud in his garden and improvised some verses in his honor, and was pardoned. But he found it advisable to leave the city ; this he did at night and alone ; but he left behind him the following famous satire, the most bitter ever penned: — " And thou vvouldst hurl me underneath the tread Of the wild elephant, till I were dead ! Dead! by that insult roused, I should become An elephant in power, and seal thy doom — Mahmud ! if fear of man hath never awed Thy heart, at least fear thy Creator, God. Full many a warrior of illustrious worth, Full many of humble, of imperial birth: Tur, Selim, Jemshid, Minuchihr the brave, Have died; for nothing had the power to save These mighty monarchs from the common doom; They died, but blest in memory still they bloom. Thus kings, too, perish — none on earth remain, Since all things human seek the dust again. O, had thy father graced a kingly throne, Thy mother been for royal virtues known, A different fate the poet then had shared, Honors and wealth had been his just reward; 1 Small silver pieces. 6 Firdausu But how remote from thee a glorious line! No high, ennobling ancestry is thine; From a vile stock thy bold career began, A Blacksmith was thy sire of Isfahan. Alas ! from vice can goodness ever spring? Is mercy hoped for in a tyrant king ? Can water wash the Ethiopian white ? Can we remove the darkness from the night ? The tree to which the bitter fruit is given, Would still be bitter in the bowers of Heaven ; And a bad heart still keeps its vicious course ; Or if it changes, changes for the worse ; Whilst streams of milk, where Eden's flovvrets blow, Acquire more honeyed sweetness as they flow. The reckless king who grinds the poor, like thee, Must ever be consigned to infamy ! ******* The toil of thirty years is now complete, Record sublime of many a warlike feat, Written midst toil and trouble, but the strain Awakens every heart, and will remain A lasting stimulus to glorious deeds; For even the bashful maid, who kindling reads, Becomes a warrior. Thirty years of care, Urged on by royal promise, did I bear, And now, deceived and scorned, the aged bard Is basely cheated of his pledged reward ! " Then, like Dante, the white-haired old man became a wanderer. At Baghdad he was a great favorite of the Kalif, in whose honor, according to one legend, he added a thou- sand couplets to the Shah-Nameh 1 and was rewarded with the sixty thousand gold dinars' 2 that the Sultan had promised but never given him. He also wrote a short poem called " Yusuf and Zulaikha " ; later remodelled by Jami. 3 After Firdausi's escape the enraged Sultan, 1 This addition is found only in one Ms., and is generally be- lieved at the present time to be apochryphal. 2 Gold coin worth about 52.50. 3 See Vol. II. Firdausi. 7 hearing that he was at Baghdad, sent to the Calif demand- ing his return, but the poet finally sought refuge at Rustem- dar, where the governor offered him a certain amount of gold if he would cancel the Satire against Mahmud. This Firdausi consented to do, and then he returned to Tus, where his old teacher, Essedi, 1 still lived. In the meantime the Sultan had learned of his minister's treachery, and had compelled him to pay back the sixty thousand pieces of gold he had kept Firdausi from receiv- ing. He also banished him from court forever. Regret at losing Firdausi, the greatest ornament of his court, and remorse for the treatment the poet had received at his hands so weighed on the Sultan, that he finally en- deavored to make reparation. Learning that Firdausi was living obscurely at Tus, he sent him the long-delayed pay- ment, together with camels loaded with princely gifts ; but too late ! The royal retinue met the funeral of the great poet at the city gates. Firdausi's tomb was in a garden near the city of Tus, and was once eagerly visited by pilgrims. The money was paid to the poet's daughter, but she disdainfully refused it. However, relatives took it and built with it a bridge, the dreamed-of dike, and a house of refuge for travellers, all of which memorials are now gone. But his fame lives on, and even now cities and towns bear the names of the heroes from the Shah-Nameh, which has lived through nine centuries. There are innumerable manuscript copies of this great work in Persian. These manuscripts are wonderfully beautiful. The scribes use Egyptian reeds and the black- est of ink which never loses its color. The favorite works of the poets are usually written on the finest of silky paper, powdered with gold or silver dust. The margins are richly illuminated and the whole perfumed with sandal- wood or some costly essence. The illuminated title pages are of elaborate design. Essedi : see Appendix. 8 Firdausi. Among the many episodes of this epic, among its dragons and its giant feats of valor, perhaps the most moving is the famous poem of Sohrab, a poem made familiar to all English readers by Mr. Matthew Arnold. It was no idle boast of Firdausi's when he said that he should write — " What no tide Shall ever wash away, what men Unborn shall read o'er ocean wide." SOHRAB. 1 O ye, who dwell in Youth's inviting bowers, Waste not, in useless joy, your fleeting hours, But rather let the tears of sorrow roll, And sad reflection fill the conscious soul. For many a jocund spring has passed away, And many a flower has blossomed, to decay ; And human life, still hastening to a close, Finds in the worthless dust its last repose. Still the vain world abounds in strife and hate, And sire and son provoke each other's fate ; And kindred blood by kindred hands is shed, And vengeance sleeps not — dies not, with the dead. All nature fades — the garden's treasures fall, Young bud, and citron ripe — all perish, all. And now a tale of sorrow must be told, A tale of tears, derived from Mubid old, And thus remembered. — With the dawn of day, 1 Mr. James Atkinson's translation. Sohrab. 9 Rustem arose, and wandering took his way, Armed for the chase, where sloping to the sky, Turan's lone wilds in sullen grandeur lie ; There, to dispel his melancholy mood, He urged his matchless steed through glen and wood. Flushed with the noble game which met his view, He starts the wild-ass o'er the glistening dew ; And, oft exulting, sees his quivering dart, Plunge through the glossy skin, and pierce the heart. — Tired of the sport, at length, he sought the shade, Which near a stream embowering trees displayed, And with his arrow's point, a fire he raised, And thorns and grass before him quickly blazed. The severed parts upon a bough he cast, To catch the flames, and when the rich repast Was drest, with flesh and marrow, savory food, He quelled his hunger ; and the sparkling flood That murmured at his feet his thirst represt ; Then gentle sleep composed his limbs to rest. Meanwhile his horse, for speed and form renown'd, Ranged o'er the plain with flowery herbage crown'd, Encumbering arms no more his sides opprest, No folding mail confined his ample chest, 1 Gallant and free, he left the Champion's side, And cropp'd the mead, or sought the cooling tide ; When lo ! it chanced amid the woodland chase, A band of horsemen, rambling near the place, 1 The armor called Burgustuvvan almost covered the horse, and was usually made of leather and felt-cloth. 10 Firdausi. Saw, with surprise, superior game astray, And rushed at once to seize the noble prey ; But, in the imminent struggle, two beneath His steel-clad hoofs received the stroke of death ; One proved a sterner fate — for downward borne, The mangled head was from the shoulders torn. Still undismayed, again they nimbly sprung, And round his neck the noose entangling flung : Now, all in vain, he spurns the smoking ground, In vain the tumult echoes all around ; They bear him off, and view, with ardent eyes, His matchless beauty and majestic size ; Then soothe his fury, anxious to obtain, A bounding steed of his immortal strain. When Rustem woke, and miss'd his favorite horse, The loved companion of his glorious course ; Sorrowing he rose, and, hastening thence, began To shape his dubious way to Samengan ; " Reduced to journey thus, alone ! " he said, "How pierce the gloom which thickens round my head; Burthen'd, on foot, a dreary waste in view, Where shall I bend my steps, what path pursue? The scoffing Turks will cry, ' Behold our might ! We won the trophy from the Champion-knight ! From him who, reckless of his fame and pride, Thus idly slept, and thus ignobly died.' " Girding his loins he gathered from the field, His quivered stores, his beamy sword and shield, Harness and saddle-gear were o'er him slung, Sohrab. 11 Bridle and mail across his shoulders hung. 1 Then looking round, with anxious eye, to meet, The broad impression of his charger's feet, 2 The track he hail'd, and following, onward prest, While grief and hope alternate filled his breast. O'er vale and wild-wood led, he soon descries, The regal city's shining turrets rise. And when the Champion's near approach is known, The usual homage waits him to the throne. The King, on foot, received his welcome guest With proffered friendship, and his coming blest : But Rustem frowned, and with resentment fired, Spoke of his wrongs, the plundered steed required. " I've traced his footsteps to your royal town, Here must he be, protected by your crown ; But if retained, if not from fetters freed, My vengeance shall o'ertake the felon-deed." " My honored guest ! " the wondering King replied, — " Shall Rustem's wants or wishes be denied ? But let not anger, headlong, fierce, and blind, O'ercloud the virtues of a generous mind. 1 In this hunting excursion he is completely armed, being supplied with spear, sword, shield, mace, bow and arrows. Like the knight- errants of after times, he seldom even slept unarmed. Single com- bat and the romantic enterprises of European chivalry may indeed be traced to the East. Rustem was a most illustrious example of all that is pious, disinterested, and heroic. The adventure now describ- ing is highly characteristic of a chivalrous age. 2 See the Story of the Horse in Zadig, which is doubtless of Ori- ental origin. In the upper parts of Hindustan, it is said that the people are exceedingly expert in discovering robbers by tracing the marks of their horses' feet. These mounted robbers are called Kus- saks. The Russian Cossack is probably derived from the same word. 12 Firdausi. If still within the limits of my reign, The well-known courser shall be thine again : For Rakush never can remain concealed, No more than Rustem in the battle-field ! Then cease to nourish useless rage, and share With joyous heart my hospitable fare." The son of Zal now felt his wrath subdued, And glad sensations in his soul renewed. The ready herald by the King's command, Convened the Chiefs and Warriors of the land ; x And soon the banquet social glee restored, And China wine-cups glittered on the board ; And cheerful song, and music's magic power, And sparkling wine, beguiled the festive hour. 2 The dulcet draughts o'er Rustem's senses stole, And melting strains absorbed his softened soul. But when approached the period of repose, All, prompt and mindful, from the banquet rose ; A couch was spread well worthy such a guest, Perfumed with rose and musk ; and whilst at rest, In deep sound sleep, the wearied Champion lay, Forgot were all the sorrows of the way. Rustem meets Tahmineh. One watch had passed, and still sweet slumber shed Its magic power around the hero's head — 1 Thus Alkinoos convenes the chiefs of Phaiakia in honor of Odysseus. 2 The original gives to the singers black eyes and cheeks like roses. These women are generally known by the term Lulian, per- Sohrab. 13 When forth Tahmineh came, — a damsel held An amber taper, which the gloom dispelled, And near his pillow stood ; in beauty bright, The monarch's daughter struck his wondering sight. Clear as the moon, in glowing charms arrayed. Her winning eyes the light of heaven displayed ; Her cypress form entranced the gazer's view, Her waving curls, the heart, resistless, drew, Her eyebrows like the Archer's bended bow ; Her ringlets, snares ; her cheek, the rose's glow, 1 Mixed with the lily, — from her ear-tips hung Rings rich and glittering, star-like ; and her tongue, And lips, all sugared sweetness — pearls the while Sparkled within a mouth formed, to beguile. Her presence dimmed the stars, and breathing round Fragrance and joy, she scarcely touched the ground, 2 So light her step, so graceful — every part Perfect, and suited to her spotless heart. Rustem, surprised, the gentle maid addressed, haps referring to their beauty, as Lulu signifies a pearl, a gem, a jewel ; though Lulu is also the name of a people or tribe of Persia. 1 " Ensnaring ringlets." Thus Shakespeare : — " Here in her hairs, The painter plays the Spider — and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes ! " Merchant of Venice, iii. 2. 2 Beauty and fragrance are amongst the poets inseparable. The Persians exceed even the Greeks in their love of perfume, though Anacreon thought it so indispensable a part of beauty, that in direct- ing the Rhodian artist to paint the mistress of his heart, he wishes even her fragrance to be portrayed. 14 Firdausi. And asked what lovely stranger broke his rest. " What is thy name," he said, — " what dost thou seek Amidst the gloom of night ? Fair vision speak ! " " O thou," she softly sigh'd, " of matchless fame ! With pity hear, Tahmineh is my name ! The pangs of love my anxious heart employ, And flattering promise long-expected joy ; No curious eye has yet these features seen, My voice unheard, beyond the sacred screen. 1 How often have I listened with amaze, To thy great deeds, enamoured of thy praise ; How oft from every tongue I've heard the strain, And thought of thee — and sighed, and sighed again. The ravenous eagle, hovering o'er his prey, Starts at thy gleaming sword and flies away : Thou art the slayer of the Demon brood, And the fierce monsters of the echoing wood. Where'er thy mace is seen, shrink back the bold, Thy javelin's flash all tremble to behold. Enchanted with the stories of thy fame, My fluttering heart responded to thy name ; And whilst their magic influence I felt, In prayer for thee devotedly I knelt ; And fervent vowed, thus powerful glory charms, No other spouse should bless my longing arms. 2 1 As a proof of her innocence Tahmineh declares to Rustem, " No person has ever seen me out of my private chamber, or even heard the sound of my voice." 2 Josephus has recorded that the king's daughter betrayed the city of Saba, in Ethiopia, into the hands of Moses, having become enamoured of him by seeing from the walls the valor and bravery Sohrab. 1 5 Indulgent heaven propitious to my prayer, Now brings thee hither to reward my care. Turan's dominions thou hast sought, alone, By night, in darkness — thou, the mighty one ! O claim my hand, and grant my soul's desire ; Ask me in marriage of my royal sire ; Perhaps a boy our wedded love may crown, Whose strength like thine may gain the world's renown. Nay more — for Samengan will keep my word, — Rakush to thee again shall be restored." The damsel thus her ardent thought expressed, And Rustem's heart beat joyous in his breast, Hearing her passion — not a word was lost, And Rakush safe, by him still valued most ; He called her near ; with graceful step she came, And marked with throbbing pulse his kindled flame. The Marriage. And now a Mubid, from the Champion-knight, Requests the royal sanction to the rite ; O'erjoyed, the King the honored suit approves, O'erjoyed to bless the doting child he loves, And happier still, in showering smiles around, To be allied to warrior so renowned. When the delighted father, doubly blest, Resigned his daughter to his glorious guest, which he displayed at the head of the Egyptian army. Dido was won by the celebrity of ^Eneas. Kotzebue has drawn Elvira enam- oured of the fame and glory of Pizarro. The lovely Desdemona affords another instance. 16 Firdausi. The people shared the gladness which it gave, The union of the beauteous and the brave. To grace their nuptial day — both old and young, The hymeneal gratulations sung : " May this young moon bring happiness and joy, And every source of enmity destroy." The marriage -bower received the happy pair, And love and transport shovver'd their blessings there. Ere from his lofty sphere the morn had thrown His glittering radiance, and in splendor shone, The mindful Champion, from his sinewy arm, His bracelet drew, the soul-ennobling charm ; And, as he held the wondrous gift with pride, He thus address'd his love-devoted bride ! "Take this," he said, "and if, by gracious heaven, A daughter for thy solace should be given, Let it among her ringlets be displayed, And joy and honor will await the maid ; But should kind fate increase the nuptial joy, And make thee mother of a blooming boy, Around his arm this magic bracelet bind, To fire with virtuous deeds his ripening mind ; The strength of Sam will nerve his manly form, In temper mild, in valor like the storm ; His not the dastard fate to shrink, or turn From where the lions of the battle burn ; To him the soaring eagle from the sky Will stoop, the bravest yield to him, or fly ; Thus shall his bright career imperious claim The well- won honors of immortal fame ! " Sohrab. 17 Ardent he said, and kissed her eyes and face, And lingering held her in a fond embrace. When the bright sun his radiant brow displayed, And earth in all its loveliest hues arrayed, The Champion rose to leave his spouse's side, The warm affections of his weeping bride. For her, too soon the winged moments flew, Too soon, alas ! the parting hour she knew ; Clasped in his arms, with many a streaming tear, She tried, in vain, to win his deafen'd ear ; Still tried, ah fruitless struggle ! to impart, The swelling anguish of her bursting heart. The father now with gratulations due Rustem approaches, and displays to view The fiery war-horse, — welcome as the light Of heaven, to one immersed in deepest night ; The Champion, wild with joy, fits on the rein, And girds the saddle on his back again • Then mounts, and leaving sire and wife behind, Onward to Sistan rushes like the wind. But when returned to Zabul's friendly shade, None knew what joys the Warrior had delayed ; Still, fond remembrance, with endearing thought, Oft to his mind the scene of rapture brought. The Birth of Sohrab. When nine slow-circling months had roll'd away, Sweet-smiling pleasure hailed the brightening day — A wondrous boy Tahmineh's tears supprest, 18 Firdausi. And lulFd the sorrows of her heart to rest; To him, predestined to be great and brave, The name Sohrab his tender mother gave ; And as he grew, amazed, the gathering throng, Yiew'd his large limbs, his sinews firm and strong ; His infant years no soft endearment claimed : Athletic sports his eager soul inflamed ; Broad at the chest and taper round the loins, Where to the rising hip the body joins ; Hunter and wrestler ; and so great his speed, He could o'ertake, and hold the swiftest steed. His noble aspect, and majestic grace, Betrayed the offspring of a glorious race. How, with a mother's ever anxious love, Still to retain him near her heart she strove ! For when the father's fond inquiry came, Cautious, she still concealed his birth and name, And feign'd a daughter born, the evil fraught With misery to avert — but vain the thought ; Not many years had passed, with downy flight, Ere he, Tahmineh's wonder and delight, With glistening eye, and youthful ardor warm, Filled her foreboding bosom with alarm. " O now relieve my heart ! " he said, " declare, From whom I sprang and breathe the vital air. Since, from my childhood, I have ever been, Amidst my playmates of superior mien ; Should friend or foe demand my father's name, Let not my silence testify my shame ! If still concealed, you falter, still delay, Sohrab. 19 A mother's blood shall wash the crime away." "This wrath forego," the mother answering cried, U And joyful hear to whom thou art allied. A glorious line precedes thy destined birth, The mightiest heroes of the sons of earth. The deeds of Sam remotest realms admire, And Zal, and Rustem thy illustrious sire ! " In private, then, she Rustem's letter placed Before his view, and brought with eager haste Three sparkling rubies, wedges three of gold, From Persia sent — "Behold," she said, "behold Thy father's gifts, will these thy doubts remove The costly pledges of paternal love ! Behold this bracelet charm, of sovereign power To baffle fate in danger's awful hour ; But thou must still the perilous secret keep, Nor ask the harvest of renown to reap ; For when, by this peculiar signet known, Thy glorious father shall demand his son, Doomed from her only joy in life to part, O think what pangs will rend thy mother's heart ! — Seek not the fame which only teems with woe ; Afrasiyab is Rustem's deadliest foe ! And if by him discovered, him I dread, Revenge will fall upon thy guiltless head." The youth replied : " In vain thy sighs and tears, The secret breathes and mocks thy idle fears. No human power can fate's decrees control, Or check the kindled ardor of my soul. Then why from me the bursting truth conceal? 20 Firdausi. My father's foes even now my vengeance feel j Even now in wrath my native legions rise, And sounds of desolation strike the skies ; Kaus himself, hurled from his ivory throne, Shall yield to Rustem the imperial crown, And thou, my mother, still in triumph seen, Of lovely Persia hailed the honored queen ! Then shall Turan unite beneath my band, And drive this proud oppressor from the land ! Father and Son, in virtuous league combined, No savage despot shall enslave mankind ; When Sun and Moon o'er heaven refulgent blaze, Shall little Stars obtrude their feeble rays?" He paused, and then : " O mother, I must now My father seek, and see his lofty brow ; Be mine a horse, such as a prince demands, Fit for the dusty field, a warrior's hands ; Strong as an elephant his form should be, And chested like the stag, in motion free, And swift as bird, or fish ; it would disgrace A warrior bold on foot to show his face." The mother, seeing how his heart was bent, His day-star rising in the firmament, Commands the stables to be searched to find Among the steeds one suited to his mind ; Pressing their backs he tries their strength and nerve, Bent double to the ground their bellies curve ; Not one, from neighboring plain and mountain brought, Equals the wish with which his soul is fraught ; Fruitless on every side he anxious turns, Sohrab. 21 Fruitless, his brain with wild impatience burns, But when at length they bring the destined steed, From Rakush bred, of lightning's winged speed, Fleet, as the arrow from the bow-string flies, Fleet, as the eagle darting through the skies, Rejoiced he springs, and, with a nimble bound, Vaults in his seat, and wheels the courser round ; " With such a horse — thus mounted, what remains ? Kaus, the Persian King, no longer reigns ! " High flushed he speaks — with youthful pride elate, Eager to crush the Monarch's glittering state ; He grasps his javelin with a hero's might, And pants with ardor for the field of fight. Soon o'er the realm his fame expanding spread, And gathering thousands hasten'd to his aid. His Grandsire, pleased, beheld the warrior-train Successive throng and darken all the plain ; And bounteously his treasures he supplied, Camels, and steeds, and gold. — In martial pride, Sohrab was seen — a Grecian helmet graced His brow — and costliest mail his limbs embraced. Afrasiyab's Scheme. Afrasiyab now hears with ardent joy, The bold ambition of the warrior-boy, Of him who, perfumed with the milky breath Of infancy, was threatening war and death, And bursting sudden from his mother's side, Had launched his bark upon the perilous tide. 22 Firdausi. The insidious King sees well the tempting hour, Favoring his arms against the Persian power, And thence, in haste, the enterprise to share, Twelve thousand veterans selects with care ; To Human and Barman the charge consigns, And thus his force with Samengan combines ; But treacherous first his martial chiefs he prest, To keep the secret fast within their breast : — " For this bold youth must not his father know, Each must confront the other as his foe, — Such is my vengeance ! With unhallowed rage, Father and Son shall dreadful battle wage ! Unknown the youth shall Rustem's force withstand, And soon o'erwhelm the bulwark of the land. Rustem removed, the Persian throne is ours, An easy conquest to confederate powers ; And then, secured by some propitious snare, Sohrab himself our galling bonds shall wear. Or should the Son by Rustem's falchion bleed, The father's horror at that fatal deed, Will rend his soul, and midst his sacred grief, Kaus in vain will supplicate relief." The tutored Chiefs advance with speed, and bring Imperial presents to the future king ; In stately pomp the embassy proceeds ; Ten loaded camels, ten unrivalled steeds, A golden crown, and throne, whose jewels bright Gleam in the sun, and shed a sparkling light. A letter too the crafty tyrant sends, And fraudful thus the glorious aim commends. — Sohrab. 2} " If Persia's spoils invite thee to the field, Accept the aid my conquering legions yield ; Led by two Chiefs of valor and renown, Upon thy head to place the kingly crown." Elate with promised fame, the youth surveys The regal vest, the throne's irradiant blaze, The golden crown, the steeds, the sumptuous load Of ten strong camels, craftily bestowed ; Salutes the Chiefs, and views on every side, The lengthening ranks with various arms supplied. The march begins — the brazen drums resound, 1 His moving thousands hide the trembling ground ; For Persia's verdant land he wields the spear, And blood and havoc mark his groaning rear. 2 SOHRAB MEETS HujIR. To check the Invader's horror-spreading course, The barrier- fort opposed unequal force ; That fort whose walls, extending wide, contained The stay of Persia, men to battle trained. Soon as Hujir the dusky crowd descried, He on his own presumptuous arm relied, And left the fort ; in mail with shield and spear, Vaunting he spoke, — " What hostile force is here ? 1 Kus is a tymbal, or large brass drum, which is beat in the palaces or camps of Eastern princes. 2 It appears throughout the Shah-Nameh that whenever any army was put in motion, the inhabitants and the country, whether hostile or friendly, were equally given up to plunder and devastation. " Everything in their progress was burnt and destroyed." 24 Firdausi. What Chieftain dares our warlike realms invade ? " " And who art thou ? " Sohrab indignant said, Rushing toward him with undaunted look — " Hast thou, audacious ! nerve and soul to brook The crocodile in fight, that to the strife Singly thou comest, reckless of thy life?" To this the foe replied — "A Turk and I Have never yet been bound in friendly tie ; And soon thy head shall, severed by my sword, Gladden the sight of Persia's mighty lord, While thy torn limbs to vultures shall be given, Or bleach beneath the parching blast of heaven." The youthful hero laughing hears the boast, And now by each continual spears are tost, Mingling together ; like a flood of fire The boaster meets his adversary's ire ; The horse on which he rides, with thundering pace, Seems like a mountain moving from its base ; 1 Sternly he seeks the stripling's loins to wound, But the lance hurtless drops upon the ground ; Sohrab, advancing, hurls his steady spear Full on the middle of the vain Hujir, Who staggers in his seat. With proud disdain The youth now flings him headlong on the plain, And quick dismounting, on his heaving breast Triumphant stands, his Khunjer firmly prest, To strike the head off, — but the blow was stayed — 1 The simile of a moving mountain occurs in the Iliad. Hector, with his white plumes, is compared to a moving mountain topped with snow. Bookxiii., 754. But Vergil added considerably to this image. Sohrab. 2 5 Trembling, for life, the craven boaster prayed. That mercy granted eased his coward mind, Though, dire disgrace, in captive bonds confined, And sent to Human, who amazed beheld How soon Sohrab his daring soul had quelled. A Warrior Maid. When Gurd-afrid, a peerless warrior-dame, Heard of the conflict, and the hero's shame, Groans heaved her breast, and tears of anger flowed, Her tulip cheek with deeper crimson glowed ; Speedful, in arms magnificent arrayed, A foaming palfrey bore the martial maid ; The burnished mail her tender limbs embraced, Beneath her helm her clustering locks she placed ; Poised in her hand an iron javelin gleamed, And o'er the ground its sparkling lustre streamed ; Accoutred thus in manly guise, no eye However piercing could her sex descry ; Now, like a lion, from the fort she bends, And midst the foe impetuously descends ; Fearless of soul, demands with haughty tone, The. bravest chief, for warlike valor known, To try the chance of fight. In shining arms, Again Sohrab the glow of battle warms ; With scornful smiles, "Another deer ! " he cries, " Come to my victor-toils, another prize ! " The damsel saw his noose insidious spread, And soon her arrows whizzed around his head ; 26 Firdausi. With steady skill the twanging bow she drew, And still her pointed darts unerring flew ; For when in forest sports she touched the string, Never escaped even bird upon the wing ; Furious he burned, and high his buckler held, To ward the storm, by growing force impell'd ; And tilted forward with augmented wrath, But Gurd-afrid aspires to cross his path ; Now o'er her back the slacken'd bow resounds ; She grasps her lance, her goaded courser bounds, Driven on the youth with persevering might — Unconquer'd courage still prolongs the fight ; The stripling Chief shields off the threaten 'd blow, Reins in his steed, then rushes on the foe ; With outstretch'd arm, he bending backward hung, And, gathering strength, his pointed javelin flung ; Firm through her girdle belt the weapon went, And glancing down the polish'd armor rent. Staggering, and stunned by his superior force, She almost tumbled from her foaming horse, Yet unsubdued, she cut the spear in two, And from her side the quivering fragment drew, Then gain'd her seat, and onward urged her steed, But strong and fleet Sohrab arrests her speed : , Strikes off her helm, and sees — a woman's face, Radiant with blushes and commanding grace ! Thus undeceived, in admiration lost, He cries, " A woman, from the Persian host ! If Persian damsels thus in arms engage, Who shall repel their warrior's fiercer rage ? " Sobrab. 27 Then from his saddle thong — his noose he drew, And round her waist the twisted loop he threw, — " Now seek not to escape," he sharply said, " Such is the fate of war, unthinking maid ! And, as such beauty seldom swells our pride, Vain thy attempt to cast my toils aside." In this extreme, but one resource remained, Only one remedy her hope sustained, — Expert in wiles each siren-art she knew, And thence exposed her blooming face to view ; Raising her full black orbs, serenely bright, In all her charms she blazed before his sight ; 1 And thus addressed Sohrab. — " O warrior brave, Hear me, and thy imperilled honor save, These curling tresses seen by either host, A woman conquered, whence the glorious boast? Thy startled troops will know, with inward grief, A woman's arm resists their towering chief, Better preserve a warrior's fair renown, And let our struggle still remain unknown, For who with wanton folly would expose A helpless maid, to aggravate her woes ; The fort, the treasure, shall thy toils repay, The chief, and garrison, thy will obey, And thine the honors of this dreadful day." Raptured he gazed, her smiles resistless move The wildest transports of ungoverned love. Her face disclosed a paradise to view, 1 Gurd-afrid, engaging Sohrab, is exactly the Clorinda of Tasso engaging Tancred, in the third canto of Gerusalemme Liberata. 28 Fir dan si. Eyes like the fawn, and cheeks of rosy hue — Thus vanquished, lost, unconscious of her aim, And only struggling with his amorous flame, He rode behind, as if compelled by fate, And heedless saw her gain the castle-gate. Safe with her friends, escaped from brand and spear, Smiling she stands, as if unknown to fear. — The father now, with tearful pleasure wild, Clasps to his heart his fondly-foster'd child ; The crowding warriors round her eager bend, And grateful prayers to favoring heaven ascend. Now from the walls, she, with majestic air, Exclaims : " Thou warrior of Turan, forbear ! Why vex thy soul, and useless strife demand ! Go, and in peace enjoy thy native land." Stern he rejoins : " Thou beauteous tyrant ! sav, Though crown'd with charms, devoted to betray, When these proud walls, in dust and ruins laid, Yield no defence, and thou a captive maid, Will not repentance through thy bosom dart, And sorrow soften that disdainful heart?" Quick she replied : " O'er Persia's fertile fields The savage Turk in vain his falchion wields ; When King Kaus this bold invasion hears, And mighty Rustem clad in arms appears ! Destruction wide will glut the slippery plain, And not one man of all thy host remain. Alas ! that bravery, high as thine, should meet Amidst such promise, with a sure defeat, But not a gleam of hope remains for thee, Sohrab, 29 Thy wondrous valor cannot keep thee free. Avert the fate which o'er thy head impends, Return, return, and save thy martial friends ! " Thus to be scorned, defrauded of his prey, With victory in his grasp — to lose the day ! Shame and revenge alternate filled his mind ; The suburb-town to pillage he consigned, And devastation — not a dwelling spared ; The very owl was from her covert scared ; Then thus : " Though luckless in my aim to-day, To-morrow shall behold a sterner fray ; This fort, in ashes, scattered o'er the plain." He ceased — and turned toward his troops again ; There, at a distance from the hostile power, He brooding waits the slaughter-breathing hour. Meanwhile the sire of Gurd-afrid, who now Governed the fort, and feared the warrior's vow ; Mournful and pale, with gathering woes opprest, His distant Monarch trembling thus addrest. But first invoked the heavenly power to shed Its choicest blessings o'er his royal head. "Against our realm with numerous foot and horse, A stripling warrior holds his ruthless course. His lion-breast unequalled strength betrays, And o'er his mien the sun's effulgence plays : Sohrab his name ; like Sam Suwar he shows, Or Rustem terrible amidst his foes. The bold Hujir lies vanquished on the plain, And drags a captive's ignominious chain ; Myriads of troops besiege our tottering wall, 30 Firdausi. And vain the effort to suspend its fall. Haste, arm for fight, this Tartar-power withstand, Let sweeping Vengeance lift her flickering brand : Rustem alone may stem the roaring wave, And, prompt as bold, his groaning country save. Meanwhile in flight we place our only trust, Ere the proud ramparts crumble in the dust." Swift flies the messenger through secret ways, And to the King the dreadful tale conveys, Then passed, unseen, in night's concealing shade, The mournful heroes and the warrior maid. Sohrab Loves. Soon as the sun with vivifying ray, Gleams o'er the landscape, and renews the day; The flaming troops the lofty walls surround, With thundering crash the bursting gates resound. Already are the captives bound, in thought, And like a herd before the conqueror brought ; Sohrab, terrific o'er the ruin, views His hopes deceived, but restless still pursues. An empty fortress mocks his searching eye, No steel-clad chiefs his burning wrath defy ; No warrior-maid reviving passions warms, And soothes his soul with fondly valued charms. Deep in his breast he feels the amorous smart, And hugs her image closer to his heart. " Alas ! that Fate should thus invidious shroud The moon's soft radiance in a gloomy cloud ; Sohrab. 31 Should to my eyes such winning grace display, Then snatch the enchanter of my soul away ! A beauteous roe my toils enclosed in vain, Now I, her victim, drag the captive's chain ; Strange the effects that from her charms proceed, I gave the wound, and I afflicted bleed ! Vanquished by her, I mourn the luckless strife ; Dark, dark, and bitter, frowns my morn of life. A fair unknown my tortured bosom rends, Withers each joy, and every hope suspends." Impassioned thus Sohrab in secret sighed, And sought, in vain, o'ermastering grief to hide. Can the heart bleed and throb from day to day, And yet no trace its inmost pangs betray? Love scorns control, and prompts the laboring sigh, Pales the red lip, and dims the lucid eye ; His look alarmed the stern Turanian Chief, Closely he mark'd his heart-corroding grief; 1 And though he knew not that the martial dame, Had in his bosom lit the tender flame ; Full well he knew such deep repinings prove, The hapless thraldom of disastrous love. Full well he knew some idol's musky hair, Had to his youthful heart become a snare, But still unnoted was the gushing tear, Till haply he had gained his private ear : — " In ancient times, no hero known to fame, 1 Literally, Human was not at first aware that Sohrab was wounded in the liver. In this organ Oriental as well as the Greek and Roman poets place the residence of love. 32 Firdausi. Not dead to glory, e'er indulged the flame ; Though beauty's smiles might charm a fleeting hour, The heart, unsway'd, repelled their lasting power. A warrior Chief to trembling love a prey? What ! weep for woman one inglorious day ? Canst thou for love's effeminate control, Barter the glory of a warrior's soul ? Although a hundred damsels might be gained, The hero's heart shall still be free, unchained. Thou art our leader, and thy place the field Where soldiers love to fight with spear and shield ; And what hast thou to do with tears and smiles, The silly victim to a woman's wiles? Our progress, mark ! from far Turan we came, Through seas of blood to gain immortal fame ; And wilt thou now the tempting conquest shun, When our brave arms this Barrier- fort have won ? Why linger here, and trickling sorrows shed, Till mighty Kaus thunders o'er thy head ! Till Tus, and Giw, and Gudarz, and Bahram, And Rustem brave, Feramurz, and Reham, Shall aid the war ! A great emprise is thine, At once, then, every other thought resign ; For know the task which first inspired thy zeal, Transcends in glory all that love can feel. Rise, lead the war, prodigious toils require Unyielding strength, and unextinguished fire ; Pursue the triumph with tempestuous rage, Against the world in glorious strife engage, And when an empire sinks beneath thy sway, Sohrab. 33 (O quickly may we hail the prosperous day,) The fickle sex will then with blooming charms, Adoring throng to bless thy circling arms ! " Sohrab's Vow. Human's warm speech, the spirit-stirring theme, Awoke Sohrab from his inglorious dream. No more the tear his faded cheek bedewed, Again ambition all his hopes renewed : SwelPd his bold heart with unforgotten zeal, The noble wrath which heroes only feel ; Fiercely he vowed at one tremendous stroke, To bow the world beneath the tyrant's yoke ! "Afrasiyab," he cried, "shall reign alone, The mighty lord of Persia's gorgeous throne ! " Burning, himself, to rule this nether sphere, These welcome tidings charmed the despot's ear. Meantime Kaus, this dire invasion known, Had called his chiefs around his ivory throne : There stood Gurgin, and Bahram, and Gushwad, And Tus, and Giw, and Gudarz, and Ferhad ; To them he read the melancholy tale, Gust'hem had written of the rising bale ; Besought their aid and prudent choice, to form Some sure defence against the threatening storm. With one consent they urge the strong request, To summon Rustem from his rural rest. — Instant a warrior-delegate they send, And thus the King invites his patriot-friend, 34 Firdausi. " To thee all praise, whose mighty arm alone, Preserves the glory of the Persian throne ! Lo ! Tartar hordes our happy realms invade ; The tottering state requires thy powerful aid ; A youthful Champion leads the ruthless host, His savage country's widely rumored boast. The Barrier-fortress sinks beneath his sway, Hujir is vanquished, ruin tracks his way ; Strong as a raging elephant in fight, No arm but thine can match his furious might. Mazinderan thy conquering prowess knew ; The Demon-king thy trenchant falchion slew ; The rolling heavens, abash'd with fear, behold Thy biting sword, thy mace adorned with gold ! l Fly to the succor of a King distrest, Proud of thy love, with thy protection blest. When o'er the nation dread misfortunes lower, Thou art the refuge, thou the saving power. The chiefs assembled claim thy patriot vows, Give to thy glory all that life allows ; And while no whisper breathes the direful tale, O, let thy Monarch's anxious prayers prevail." Closing the fragrant page 2 o'ercome with dread, 1 " Thy mace makes the Sun weep, and thy sword inflames the Stars." (Lit. the planet Venus.) Although this is a strong hyper- bole, there are numberless parallel passages containing equally extravagant personification in our own poets. 2 The paper upon which the letters of royal and distinguished personages in the East are written is usually perfumed, and covered with curious devices in gold. This was scented with amber. The degree of embellishment is generally regulated according to the rank of the party. Sohrab. 35 The afflicted King to Giw, the warrior, said : — " Go, bind the saddle on thy fleetest horse, Outstrip the tempest in thy rapid course, To Rustem swift his country's woes convey, Too true art thou to linger on the way ; Speed, day and night — and not one instant wait, Whatever hour may bring thee to his gate." Rustem Warned. Followed no pause — to Giw enough was said, Nor rest, nor taste of food, his speed delayed. And when arrived where Zabul bowers exhale Ambrosial sweets and scent the balmy gale, The sentinel's loud voice in Rustem's ear, Announced a messenger from Persia, near ; The Chief himself amidst his warriors stood, Dispensing honors to the brave and good, And soon as Giw had joined the martial ring, (The sacred envoy of the Persian King,) He, with becoming loyalty inspired, Asked what the monarch, what the state, required ; But Giw, apart, his secret mission told, — The written page was speedily unrolled. Struck with amazement, Rustem — " Now on earth A warrior-knight of Sam's excelling worth ? Whence comes this hero of the prosperous star? I know no Turk renowned, like him, in war ; He bears the port of Rustem too, 'tis said, Like Sam, like Nariman, a warrior bred ! He cannot be my son, unknown to me ; 36 Firdausi, Reason forbids the thought — it cannot be ! At Samengan, where once affection smiled, To me Tahmineh bore her only child, That was a daughter ? " Pondering thus he spoke, And then aloud — " Why fear the invader's yoke ? Why trembling shrink, by coward thoughts dismayed, Must we not all in dust, at length, be laid ? But come, to Nirum's palace, haste with me, And there partake the feast — from sorrow free ; Breathe, but awhile — ere we our toils renew, And moisten the parched lip with needful dew. Let plans of war another day decide, We soon shall quell this youthful hero's pride. The force of fire soon flutters and decays When ocean, swelled by storms, its wrath displays. What danger threatens ! whence the dastard fear ! Rest, and at leisure share a warrior's cheer." In vain the Envoy prest the Monarch's grief; The matchless prowess of the stripling chief; How brave Hujir had felt his furious hand ; What thickening woes beset the shuddering land. But Rustem, still, delayed the parting day, And mirth and feasting rolled the hours away ; Morn following morn beheld the banquet bright, Music and wine prolonged the genial rite ; Rapt by the witchery of the melting strain, No thought of Kaus touch 'd his swimming brain. 1 1 Four days were consumed in uninterrupted feasting. This seems to have been an ancient practice previous to the commence- ment of any important undertaking, or at setting out on a journey. Sobrab. 37 The trumpet's clang, on fragrant breezes borne, Now loud salutes the fifth revolving morn ; The softer tones which charmed the jocund feast, And all the noise of revelry, had ceased, The generous horse, with rich embroidery deckt, Whose gilded trappings sparkling light reflect, Bears with majestic port the Champion brave, And high in air the victor-banners wave. Prompt at the martial call, Zuara leads His veteran troops from Zabul's verdant meads. 1 Kaus Enraged. Ere Rustem had approached his journey's end, Tus, Gudarz, Gushwad, met their champion-friend, With customary honors ; pleased to bring The shield of Persia to the anxious King. But foaming wrath the senseless monarch swayed ; His friendship scorned, his mandate disobeyed, Beneath dark brows o'ershadowing deep, his eye Red gleaming shone, like lightning through the sky ; And when the warriors met his sullen view, Frowning revenge, still more enraged he grew : — Loud to the Envoy thus he fiercely cried : — " Since Rustem has my royal power defied, Had I a sword, this instant should his head Roll on the ground ; but let him now be led 1 Zuara, it will be remembered, was the brother of Rustem, and had the immediate superintendence of the Zabul troops. 38 FirdausL Hence, and impaled alive." l Astounded Giw Shrunk from such treatment of a knight so true ; But this resistance added to the flame, And both were branded with revolt and shame ; Both were condemned, and Tus, the stern decree Received, to break them on the felon tree. Could daring insult, thus deliberate given, Escape the rage of one to frenzy driven ? No, from his side the nerveless Chief was flung, Bent to the ground. Away the Champion sprung; Mounted his foaming horse, and looking round — His boiling wrath thus rapid utterance found : — " Ungrateful King, thy tyrant acts disgrace The sacred throne, and more, the human race ; Midst clashing swords thy recreant life I saved, And am I now by Tus contemptuous braved ? 2 On me shall Tus, shall Kaus dare to frown ? On me, the bulwark of the regal crown ? Wherefore should fear in Rustem's breast have birth, Kaus, to me, a worthless clod of earth ! Go, and thyself Sohrab's invasion stay, 1 The original is, " Seize and inflict upon him the punishment of the dar." According to Burhani-katia, dar is a tree upon which felons are hanged. But the general acceptation of the term is breaking or tearing the body upon a stake. 2 In this speech Rustem recounts the services which he had per- formed for Kaus. He speaks of his conquests in Egypt, China, Hamaveran, Rum, Suksar, and Mazinderan. Thus Achilles boasts of his unrequited achievements in the cause of Greece. " I sacked twelve ample cities on the main, And twelve lay smoking on the Trojan plain. " Pope, Iliad ix., 328. Sohrab. 39 Go, seize the plunderers growling o'er their prey ! Wherefore to others give the base command ? Go, break him on the tree with thine own hand. Know, thou hast roused a warrior, great and free, Who never bends to tyrant Kings like thee ! Was not this untired arm triumphant seen, In Misser, Rum, Mazinderan, and Chin ! And must I shrink at thy imperious nod ! Slave to no Prince, I only bow to God. Whatever wrath from thee, proud King ! may fall, For thee I fought, and I deserve it all. The regal sceptre might have graced my hand, I kept the laws, and scorned supreme command. When Kai-kobad on Alberz mountain strayed, I drew him thence, and gave a warrior's aid ; Placed on his brows the long-contested crown, Worn by his sires, by sacred right his own ; Strong in the cause, my conquering arms prevailed. Wouldst thou have reign'd had Rustem's valor failed ? When the White demon raged in battle-fray, Wouldst thou have lived had Rustem lost the day? " Then to his friends : " Be wise, and shun your fate, Fly the wide ruin which o'erwhelms the state ; The conqueror comes — the scourge of great and small, And vultures, following fast, will gorge on all. Persia no more its injured Chief shall view " — He said, and sternly from the court withdrew. The warriors now, with sad forebodings wrung, Torn from that hope to which they proudly clung, On Gudarz rest, to soothe with gentle sway, 40 Firdausi. The frantic King, and Rustem's wrath allay. With bitter grief they wail misfortune's shock, No shepherd now to guard the timorous flock. Gudarz at length, with boding cares imprest, Thus soothed the anger in the royal breast. " Say, what has Rustem done, that he should be Impaled upon the ignominious tree ? Degrading thought, unworthy to be bred Within a royal heart, a royal head. Hast thou forgot when near the Caspian-wave, Defeat and ruin had appalled the brave, When mighty Rustem struck the dreadful blow, And nobly freed thee from the savage foe ? Did Demons huge escape his flaming brand ? Their reeking limbs bestrewed the slippery strand. Shall he for this resign his vital breath ? What ! shall the hero's recompense be death? But who will dare a threatening step advance, What earthly power can bear his withering glance? Should he to Zabul fired with wrongs return, The plundered land will long in sorrow mourn ! This direful presage all our warriors feel, For who can now oppose the invader's steel ; Thus is it wise thy champion to offend, To urge to this extreme thy warrior-friend ? Remember, passion ever scorns control, And wisdom's mild decrees should rule a Monarch's soul." l 1 Literally, " Kings ought to be endowed with judgment and discretion; no advantage can arise from impetuosity and rage." Sobrab. 41 Kaus Relents. Kaus, relenting, heard with anxious ear, And groundless wrath gave place to shame and fear ; " Go then," he cried, "his generous aid implore, And to your King the mighty Chief restore ! " When Gudarz rose, and seized his courser's rein, A crowd of heroes followed in his train. To Rustem, now (respectful homage paid), The royal prayer he anxious thus conveyed. " The King, repentant, seeks thy aid again, Grieved to the heart that he has given thee pain ; But though his anger was unjust and strong, Thy country still is guiltless of the wrong, And, therefore, why abandoned thus by thee? Thy help the King himself implores through me." Rustem rejoined : " Unworthy the pretence, And scorn and insult all my recompense? Must I be galled by his capricious mood? I, who have still his firmest champion stood? But all is past, to heaven alone resigned, No human cares shall more disturb my mind ! " Then Gudarz thus (consummate art inspired His prudent tongue, with all that zeal required) ; " When Rustem dreads Sohrab's resistless power, Well may inferiors fly the trying hour ! Gudarz was one of the greatest generals of Persia ; he conquered Judea, and took Jerusalem under the reign of Lohurasp, of the first dynasty of Persia, and sustained many wars against Afrasiyab under the Kings of the second dynasty. He was the father of Giw, who is also celebrated for his valor in the following reigns. 42 Fir da it si. The dire suspicion now pervades us all, Thus, unavenged, shall beauteous Persia fall ! Yet, generous still, avert the lasting shame, O, still preserve thy country's glorious fame ! Or wilt thou, deaf to all our fears excite, Forsake thy friends, and shun the pending fight? And worse, O grief ! in thy declining days, Forfeit the honors of thy country's praise?" This artful censure set his soul on fire, But patriot firmness calm'd his burning ire ; And thus he said : " Inured to war's alarms, Did ever Rustem shun the din of arms ? Though frowns from Kaus I disdain to bear, My threaten'd country claims a warrior's care." He ceased, and prudent joined the circling throng, And in the public good forgot the private wrong. From far the King the generous Champion viewed, And rising mildly thus his speech pursued : — " Since various tempers govern all mankind, Me, nature fashioned of a froward mind ; 1 And what the heavens spontaneously bestow, Sown by their bounty must forever grow. The fit of wrath which burst within me, soon Shrunk up my heart as thin as the new moon ; 2 !Kaus, in acknowledging the violence of his disposition, uses a singular phrase : " When you departed in anger, O Champion ! I repented; ashes fell into my mouth." A similar metaphor is used in Hindustani: If a person falls under the displeasure of his friend, he says, "Ashes have fallen into my meat; " meaning that his happi- ness is gone. 2 This is one of Firdausi's favorite similes. " My heart became as slender as the new moon." Sobrab. 43 Else had I deemed thee still my army's boast, Source of my regal power, beloved the most, Unequalled. Every day, remembering thee, I drain the wine cup, thou art all to me ; I wished thee to perform that lofty part, Claimed by thy valor, sanctioned by my heart ; Hence thy delay my better thoughts supprest, And boisterous passions revelled in my breast ; But when I saw thee from my Court retire In wrath, repentance quenched my burning ire. O, let me now my keen contrition prove, Again enjoy thy fellowship and love : And while to thee my gratitude is known, Still be the pride and glory of my throne." Rustem, thus answering, said : "Thou art the King, Source of command, pure honor's sacred spring ; And here I stand to follow thy behest, Obedient ever — be thy will expressed, And services required — Old age shall see My loins still bound in fealty to thee." To this the King : " Rejoice we then to-day, And on the morrow marshal our array." The monarch quick commands the feast of joy, And social cares his buoyant mind employ, Within a bower, beside a crystal spring, 1 1 The beautiful arbors referred to in the text are often included within the walls of Eastern palaces. They are fancifully fitted up, and supplied with reservoirs, fountains, and flower trees. These romantic garden pavilions are called " kiosks " in Turkey, and are generally situated upon an eminence near a running stream. 44 Firdausi. Where opening flowers, refreshing odors fling, Cheerful he sits, and forms the banquet scene, In regal splendor on the crowded green ; And as around he greets his valiant bands, Showers golden presents from his bounteous hands ; l Voluptuous damsels trill the sportive lay, Whose sparkling glances beam celestial day ; Filled with delight the heroes closer join, And quaff till midnight cups of generous wine. Soon as the Sun had pierced the veil of night, And o'er the prospect shed his earliest light, Kaus, impatient, bids the clarions sound, The sprightly notes from hills and rocks rebound ; His treasure gates are opened : and to all A largess given ; obedient to the call, His subjects gathering crowd the mountain's brow, And following thousands shade the vales below ; With shields, in armor, numerous legends bend ; And troops of horse the threatening lines extend. Beneath the tread of heroes fierce and strong, By war's tumultuous fury borne along, The firm earth shook : the dust, in eddies driven, Whirled high in air, obscured the face of heaven ; 1 Milton alludes to the custom in Paradise Lost : — " Where the gorgeous East with richest hand Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold." In the note on this passage by Warburton, it is said to have been an Eastern ceremony, at the coronation of their kings, to powder them with gold-dust and seed-pearl. The expression in Firdausi is, " he showered or scattered gems." It was usual at festivals, and the custom still exists, to throw money amongst the people. Sohrab. 45 Nor earth, nor sky appeared — all, seeming lost, And swallowed up by that wide-spreading host. The steely armor glittered o'er the fields, And lightnings flashed from gold emblazoned shields ; Thou wouldst have said the clouds had burst in showers Of sparkling amber o'er the martial powers. Thus, close embodied, they pursued their way, And reached the Barrier-fort in terrible array. The Spy. The legions of Turan, with dread surprise, Saw o'er the plain successive myriads rise ; And showed them to Sohrab ; he, mounting high The fort, surveyed them with a fearless eye ; To Human, who, with withering terror pale, Had marked their progress through the distant vale, He pointed out the sight, and ardent said : — " Dispel these woe-fraught broodings from thy head. I wage the war, Afrasiyab ! for thee, And make this desert seem a rolling sea." Thus, while amazement every bosom quelled, Sohrab, unmoved, the coming storm beheld, And boldly gazing on the camp around, Raised high the cup with wine nectareous crowned : O'er him no dreams of woe insidious stole, No thought but joy engaged his ardent soul. The Persian legions had restrained their course, Tents and pavilions, countless foot and horse, Clothed all the spacious plain, and gleaming threw 46 Firdausi. Terrific splendors on the gazer's view. But when the Sun had faded in the west, And night assumed her ebon-colored vest, The mighty Chief approached the sacred throne, And generous thus made danger all his own : " The rules of war demand a previous task, To watch this dreadful foe I boldly ask ; With wary step the wondrous youth to view, And mark the heroes who his path pursue." The King assents : " The task is justly thine, Favorite of heaven, inspired by power divine." In Turkish habit secretly arrayed The lurking Champion wandered through the shade, And, cautious, standing near the palace gate, Saw how the chiefs were ranged in princely state. What time Sohrab his thoughts to battle turned, And for the first proud fruits of conquest burned, His mother called a warrior to his aid, And Zinda-ruzm his sister's call obeyed. To him Tahmineh gave her only joy, And bade him shield the bold adventurous boy : " But, in the dreadful strife, should danger rise, Present my child before his father's eyes ! By him protected, war may rage in vain, Though he may never bless these arms again ! " This guardian prince sat on the stripling's right, Viewing the imperial banquet with delight ; Human and Barman, near the hero placed, In joyous pomp the full assembly graced ; A hundred valiant Chiefs begirt the throne ? Sobrab. 47 And, all elate, were chanting his renown. Closely concealed, the gay and splendid scene, Rustem contemplates with astonished mien ; When Zind, retiring, marks the listener nigh, Watching the festal train with curious eye ; And well he knew, amongst his Tartar host, Such towering stature not a Chief could boast — "What spy is here, close shrouded by the night? Art thou afraid to face the beams of light?" But scarcely from his lips these words had past, Ere, felled to earth, he groaning breathed his last ; Unseen he perished, fate decreed the blow, To add fresh keenness to a parent's woe. Meantime Sohrab, perceiving the delay In Zind's return, looked round him with dismay ; The seat still vacant — but the bitter truth, Full soon was known to the distracted youth ; Full soon he found that Zinda-ruzm was gone, His day of feasting and of glory done ; Speedful toward the fatal spot he ran, Where slept in bloody vest the slaughtered man. The lighted torches now displayed the dead, Stiff on the ground his graceful limbs were spread ; Sad sight to him who knew his guardian care, Now doomed a kinsman's early loss to bear; Anguish and rage devour his breast by turns, He vows revenge, then o'er the warrior mourns : And thus exclaims to each afflicted Chief: — " No time, to-night, my friends, for useless grief; The ravenous wolf has watched his helpless prey, 48 Firdaitsi. Sprung o'er the fold, and borne its flower away ; But if the heavens my lifted arm befriend, Upon the guilty shall my wrath descend — Unsheathed, this sword shall dire revenge pursue, And Persian blood the thirsty land bedew." Frowning he paused, and checked the spreading woe, Resumed the feast, and bid the wine-cup flow ! The valiant Giw was sentinel that night, And marking dimly by the dubious light, A warrior form approach, he claps his hands, With naked sword and lifted shield he stands, To front the foe ; but Rustem now appears, And Giw the secret tale astonished hears ; From thence the Champion on the Monarch waits, The power and splendor of Sohrab relates : " Circled by Chiefs this glorious youth was seen, Of lofty stature and majestic mien ; No Tartar region gave the hero birth : Some happier portion of the spacious earth ; Tall, as the graceful cypress he appears ; Like Sam the brave, his warrior- front he rears ! " Then having told how, while the banquet shone, Unhappy Zind had sunk, without a groan ; He forms his conquering bands in close array, And, cheered by wine, awaits the coming day. Sohrab questions Hujir. When now the Sun his golden buckler raised, And genial light through heaven diffusive blazed, Sobrab. 49 Sohrab in mail his nervous limbs attired, For dreadful wrath his soul to vengeance fired; With anxious haste he bent the yielding cord, Ring within ring, more fatal than the sword ; Around his brow a regal helm he bound ; His dappled steed impatient stampt the ground. Thus armed, ascending where the eye could trace The hostile force, and mark each leader's place, He called Hujir, the captive Chief addressed, And anxious thus, his soul's desire expressed : " A prisoner thou, if freedom's voice can charm, And dungeon darkness fill thee with alarm, That freedom merit, shun severest woe, And truly answer what I ask to know ! If rigid truth thy ready speech attend, Honors and wealth shall dignify my friend." " Obedient to thy wish," Hujir replied : "Truth thou shalt hear, whatever chance betide; For what on earth to praise has better claim? Falsehood but leads to sorrow and to shame ! " " Then say, what heroes lead the adverse host, Where they command, what dignities they boast ; Say, where does Kaus hold his kingly state, 1 Where Tus, and Gudarz, on his bidding wait ; Giw, Gust'hem, and Bahram — all known to thee, And where is mighty Rustem, where is he? Look round with care, their names and power display, Or instant death shall end thy vital day." 1 Similar descriptions of chiefs and encampments are common amongst the epic poets of the West. 50 Fir dan si. " Where yonder splendid tapestries extend, 1 And o'er pavilions bright infolding bend, A throne triumphal shines with sapphire rays, And golden suns upon the banners blaze ; Full in the centre of the hosts — and round The tent a hundred elephants are bound, As if, in pomp, he mocked the power of fate ; There royal Kaus holds his kingly state. " In yonder tent which numerous guards protect, Where front and rear illustrious Chiefs collect; Where horsemen wheeling seem prepared for fight, Their golden armor glittering in the light ; Tus lifts his banners, decked with royal pride, Feared by the brave, the soldier's friend and guide. 2 " That crimson tent where spearmen frowning stand, And steel-clad veterans form a threatening band, Holds mighty Gudarz, famed for martial fire, Of eighty valiant sons the valiant sire ; Yet strong in arms, he shuns inglorious ease, His lion-banners floating in the breeze." " But mark, that green pavilion ; girt around By Persian nobles, speaks the Chief renowned ; Fierce on the standard, worked with curious art, A hideous dragon writhing seems to start ; 1 The tents and pavilions of Eastern princes were exceedingly magnificent ; they were often made of silks and velvets, and orna- mented with pearls and gold. The tent of Nadir Shah was made of scarlet and broadcloth, and lined with satin, richly figured over with precious stones. 2 The banners were adorned with the figure of an elephant, to denote his royal descent. Sohrab. 51 Throned in his tent the warrior's form is seen, Towering above the assembled host between ! x A generous horse before him snorts and neighs, The trembling earth the echoing sound conveys. Like him no Champion ever met my eyes, No horse like that for majesty and size ; What Chief illustrious bears a port so high ? Mark, how his standard flickers through the sky ! " Thus ardent spoke Sohrab. Hujir dismayed, Paused ere reply the dangerous truth betrayed. Trembling for Rustem's life the captive groaned ; Basely his country's glorious boast disowned, And said the Chief from distant China came — Sohrab abrupt demands the hero's name ; The name unknown, grief wrings his aching heart, And yearning anguish speeds her venomed dart; To him his mother gave the tokens true, He sees them all, and all but mock his view. When gloomy fate descends in evil hour, Can human wisdom bribe her favoring power? Yet, gathering hope, again with restless mien He marks the Chiefs who crowd the warlike scene. " Where numerous heroes, horse and foot, appear, And brazen trumpets thrill the listening ear, Behold the proud pavilion of the brave ! With wolves embossed the silken banners wave. 1 Thus in Homer : — "The king of kings majestically tall, Towers o'er his armies and outshines them all." Pope, Iliad, ii., 483. 52 Firdausi. The throne's bright gems with radiant lustre glow, Slaves ranked around with duteous homage bow. What mighty Chieftain rules his cohorts there? His name and lineage, free from guile, declare ! " " Giw, son of Gudarz, long a glorious name, Whose prowess even transcends his father's fame." l " Mark yonder tent of pure and dazzling white, Whose rich brocade reflects a quivering light ; An ebon seat surmounts the ivory throne ; There frowns in state a warrior of renown. The crowding slaves his awful nod obey, And silver moons around his banners play ; What Chief, or Prince, has grasped the hostile sword? " " Fraburz, the son of Persia's mighty lord." Again : "These standards shew one champion more, Upon their centre flames the savage boar ; 2 The saffron-hued pavilion bright ascends, Whence many a fold of tasselled fringe depends ; Who there presides?" " Guraz, from heroes sprung, Whose praise exceeds the power of mortal tongue." Thus, anxious, he explored the crowded field, Nor once the secret of his birth revealed ; 3 1 The text says that he was also the son-in-law of Rustem. 2 The word Guraz signifies a wild boar, but this acceptation is not very accordant to Mussulman notions, and consequently it is not supposed, by the orthodox, to have that meaning in the text. It is curious that the name of the warrior, Guraz, should correspond with the bearings on the standard. This frequently obtains in the heraldry of Europe. 3 Firdausi considers this to be destiny ! It would have been natural in Sohrab to have gloried in the fame of his father, but from Sohrab. 53 Heaven willed it so. Pressed down by silent grief, Surrounding objects promised no relief. This world to mortals still denies repose, And life is still the scene of many woes. Again his eye, instinctive turned, descried The green pavilion, and the warrior's pride. Again he cries : " O tell his glorious name ; Yon gallant horse declares the hero's fame ! " But false Hujir the aspiring hope repelled, Crushed the fond wish, the soothing balm withheld, "And why should I conceal his name from thee? His name and title are unknown to me." Then thus Sohrab — " In all that thou hast said, No sign of Rustem have thy words conveyed ; Thou sayest he leads the Persian host to arms, With him has battle lost its boisterous charms? Of him no trace thy guiding hand has shewn ; Can power supreme remain unmarked, unknown? " " Perhaps returned to Zabul's verdant bowers, He undisturbed enjoys his peaceful hours, The vernal banquets may constrain his stay, And rural sports invite prolonged delay." " Ah ! say not thus ; the Champion of the world, Shrink from the kindling war with banners furled ! l an inevitable dispensation, his lips are here sealed on that subject ; and he inquires of Rustem as if he only wanted to sipgle him out for the purpose of destroying him. The people of Persia are all fatalists. 1 The continued anxiety and persevering filial duty of Sohrab are described with great success. The case is unparalleled. Sohrab is dark and mysterious, and, as Firdausi says in another place, the unconscious promoter of his own destruction. 54 Firdausi. It cannot be ! Say where his lightnings dart, Shew me the warrior, all thou know'st impart ; Treasures uncounted shall be thy reward, Death changed to life, my friendship more than shared. Dost thou not know what, in the royal ear, The Mubid said — befitting Kings to hear? ' Untold, a secret is a jewel bright, Yet profitless whilst hidden from the light ; But when revealed, in words distinctly given, It shines refulgent as the sun through heaven.' " To him, Hujir evasive thus replies : — " Through all the extended earth his glory flies ! Wherever dangers round the nation close, Rustem approaches, and repels its foes ; And shouldst thou see him mix in mortal strife, Thou'dst think 'twere easier to escape with life From tiger fell, or demon — or the fold Of the chafed dragon, than his dreadful hold — When fiercest battle clothes the fields with fire, Before his rage embodied hosts retire ! " "And where didst thou encountering armies see? Why Rustem's praise so proudly urge to me? Let us but meet and thou shalt trembling know, How fierce that wrath which bids my bosom glow : If living flames express his boundless ire, O'erwhelming waters quench consuming fire ! And deepest darkness, glooms of ten-fold night, Fly from the piercing beams of radiant light." Hujir shrunk back with undissembled dread, And thus communing with himself, he said : — Sohrab. 5 5 " Shall I, regardless of my country, guide To Rustem's tent this furious homicide ? And witness there destruction to our host? The bulwark of the land forever lost ! What Chief can then the Tartar power restrain ! Kaus dethroned, the mighty Rustem slain ! Better a thousand deaths should lay me low, Than, living, yield such triumph to the foe. For in this struggle should my blood be shed, No foul dishonor can pursue me, dead ; No lasting shame my father's age oppress, Whom eighty sons of martial courage bless ! * They for their brother slain, incensed will rise, And pour their vengeance on my enemies." Then thus aloud : " Can idle words avail? Why still of Rustem urge the frequent tale? Why for the elephant-bodied hero ask? Thee, he will find, — no uncongenial task. Why seek pretences to destroy my life? Strike, for no Rustem views th' unequal strife ! " Sohrab confused, with hopeless anguish mourned, Back from the lofty walls he quick returned, And stood amazed. The War Begins. Now war and vengeance claim, Collected thought and deeds of mighty name ; 1 Hujir was the son of Gudarz. A family of the extent mentioned in the text is not of rare occurrence amongst the princes ot the 56 Firdausi. The jointed mail his vigorous body clasps, His sinewy hand the shining javelin grasps ; Like a mad elephant he meets the foe, His steed a moving mountain — deeply glow His cheeks with passionate ardor, as he flies Resistless onward, and with sparkling eyes, Full on the centre drives his daring horse — l The yielding Persians fly his furious course ; As the wild ass impetuous springs away, When the fierce lion thunders on his prey. By every sign of strength and martial power, They think him Rustem in his direst hour ; On Kaus now his proud defiance falls, Scornful to him the stripling warrior calls : " And why art thou misnamed of royal strain? What work of thine befits the tented plain ? This thirsty javelin seeks thy coward breast ; Thou and thy thousands doomed to endless rest. True to my oath, which time can never change, On thee, proud King ! I hurl my just revenge. The blood of Zind inspires my burning hate, And dire resentment hurries on thy fate ; Whom canst thou send to try the desperate strife? What valiant Chief, regardless of his life? Where now can Fraburz, Tus, Giw, Gudarz, be, And the world-conquering Rustem, where is he? " East. The King of Persia had, in 1809, according to Mr. Morier, "sixty-five sons/" As the Persians make no account of females, it is not known how many daughters he had. 1 The .Kulub-gah is the centre or heart of the army, where the sovereign or chief of the troops usually remains. Sobrab. 57 No prompt reply from Persian lip ensued, — Then rushing on, with demon-strength endued, Sohrab elate his javelin waved around, And hurled the bright pavilion to the ground ; With horror Kaus feels destruction nigh, And cries : " For Rustem's needful succor fly ! " This frantic Turk, triumphant on the plain, Withers the souls of all my warrior-train." That instant Tus the mighty Champion sought, And told the deeds the Tartar Chief had wrought ; " 'Tis ever thus, the brainless Monarch's due ! Shame and disaster still his steps pursue ! " This saying, from his tent he soon descried, The wild confusion spreading far and wide ; And saddled Rakush — whilst, in deep dismay, Girgin incessant cried : " Speed, speed, away." Reham bound on the mace, Tus promptly ran, And buckled on the broad Burgustuwan. Rustem, meanwhile, the thickening tumult hears And in his heart, untouched by human fears, Says : " ,JVhat is this, that feeling seems to stun ! This battle must be led by Ahriman, 1 The awful day of doom must have begun." In haste he arms, and mounts his bounding steed, The growing rage demands redoubled speed ; The leopard's skin he o'er his shoulders throws, The regal girdle round his middle glows. 2 1 Ahriman, a demon, the principle of evil. 2 This girdle was the gift of the king, as a token of affection and gratitude. Jonathan gives to David, among other things, ^js girdle : " Because he loved him as his own soul." i Samuel xviii. 3, 4. 58 Firdausi. High wave his glorious banners ; broad revealed, The pictured dragons glare along the field Born by Zuara. When, surprised, he views Sohrab, endued with ample breast and thews, Like Sam Suvvar, he beckons him apart ; The youth advances with a gallant heart, Willing to prove his adversary's might, By single combat to decide the fight ; And eagerly, " Together brought," he cries, " Remote from us be foemen, and allies, And though at once by either host surveyed, Ours be the strife which asks no mortal aid." Rustem, considerate, viewed him o'er and o'er, So wondrous graceful was the form he bore, And frankly said : " Experience flows with age, And many a foe has felt my conquering rage ; Much have I seen, superior strength and art Have borne my spear thro' many a demon's heart ; Only behold me on the battle plain, Wait till thou see'st this hand the war sustain, And if on thee should changeful fortune smile, Thou needst not fear the monster of the Nile ! * But soft compassion melts my soul to save, A youth so blooming with a mind so brave ! " The generous speech Sohrab attentive heard, His heart expanding glowed at every word : " One question answer, and in answering shew, That truth should ever from a warrior flow ; 1 A crocodile in war, with Firdausi, is a figure of great power and strength. Sohrab. 59 Art thou not Rustem, whose exploits sublime, Endear his name thro' every distant clime ? " " I boast no station of exalted birth, No proud pretensions to distinguished worth ; To him inferior, no such powers are mine, No offspring I of Nirum's glorious line ! " l The prompt denial dampt his filial joy, All hope at once forsook the Warrior-boy, His opening day of pleasure, and the bloom Of cherished life, immersed in shadowy gloom. Perplexed with what his mother's words implied ; — A narrow space is now prepared, aside, For single combat. With disdainful glance Each boldly shakes his death- devoting lance, And rushes forward to the dubious fight ; Thoughts high and brave their burning souls excite ; Now sword to sword ; continuous strokes resound, Till glittering fragments strew the dusty ground. Each grasps his massive club with added force, 2 The folding mail is rent from either horse ; It seemed as if the fearful day of doom Had, clothed in all its withering terrors, come. Their shattered corselets yield defence no more — At length they breathe, defiled with dust and gore ; Their gasping throats with parching thirst are dry, i It is difficult to account for this denial of his name, as there appears to be no equivalent cause. But all the famous heroes described in the Shah-Nameh are as much distinguished for their address and cunning as their bravery. 2 The original is Umud, which appears to have been a weapon made of iron. Umud also signifies a column, a beam. 60 Firdausi. Gloomy and fierce they roll the lowering eye, And frown defiance. Son and Father driven To mortal strife ! are these the ways of Heaven ? The various swarms which boundless ocean breeds, The countless tribes which crop the flowery meads, All know their kind, but hapless man alone Has no instinctive feeling for his own ! Compelled to pause, by every eye surveyed, Rustem, with shame, his wearied strength betrayed ; Foiled by a youth in battle's mid career, His groaning spirit almost sunk with fear ; Recovering strength, again they fiercely meet ; Again they struggle with redoubled heat ; With bended bows they furious now contend ; And feathered shafts in rattling showers descend ; Thick as autumnal leaves they strew the plain, Harmless their points, and all their fury vain. And now they seize each other's girdle-band ; Rustem, who, if he moved his iron hand, Could shake a mountain, and to whom a rock Seemed soft as wax, tried, with one mighty stroke, To hurl him thundering from his fiery steed, But Fate forbids the gallant youth should bleed ; Finding his wonted nerves relaxed, amazed That hand he drops which never had been raised Uncrowned with victory, even when demons fought, And pauses, wildered with despairing thought. Sohrab again springs with terrific grace, And lifts, from saddle-bow, his ponderous mace ; With gathered strength the quick-descending blow Sobrab. 61 Wounds in its fall, and stuns the unwary foe ; Then thus contemptuous: " All thy power is gone; Thy charger's strength exhausted as thy own ; Thy bleeding wounds with pity I behold ; O seek no more the combat of the bold ! " Rustem to this reproach made no reply, But stood confused — meanwhile, tumultuously The legions closed ; with soul-appalling force, Troop rushed on troop, o'erwhelming man and horse ; Sohrab, incensed, the Persian host engaged, Furious along the scattered lines he raged ; Fierce as a wolf he rode on every side, The thirsty earth with streaming gore was dyed. Midst the Turanians, then, the Champion sped, And like a tiger heaped the fields with dead. But when the Monarch's danger struck his thought, Returning swift, the stripling youth he sought ; Grieved to the soul, the mighty Champion viewed His hands and mail with Persian blood imbrued ; And thus exclaimed with lion-voice : " O say, Why with the Persians dost thou war to-day? Why not with me alone decide the fight, Thou'rt like a wolf that seek'st the fold by night." To this Sohrab his proud assent expressed — And Rustem, answering, thus the youth addressed. " Night-shadows now are thickening o'er the plain, The morrow's sun must see our strife again ; In wrestling let us then exert our might ! " He said, and eve's last glimmer sunk in night. Thus as the skies a deeper gloom displayed, 62 Firdausi. The stripling's life was hastening into shade ! The gallant heroes to their tents retired, The sweets of rest their wearied limbs required : Sohrab, delighted with his brave career, Describes the fight in Human's anxious ear : Tells how he forced unnumbered Chiefs to yield, And stood himself the victor of the field ! " But let the morrow's dawn," he cried, " arrive, And not one Persian shall the day survive ; Meanwhile let wine its strengthening balm impart, And add new zeal to every drooping heart." The valiant Giw with Rustem pondering stood, And, sad, recalled the scene of death and blood ; Grief and amazement heaved the frequent sigh, And almost froze the crimson current dry. Rustem, oppressed by Giw's desponding thought, Amidst his Chiefs the mournful Monarch sought; To him he told Sohrab's tremendous sway, The dire misfortunes of this luckless day ; Told with what grasping force he tried, in vain, To hurl the wondrous stripling to the plain : " The whispering zephyr might as well aspire To shake a mountain — such his strength and fire. But night came on — and, by agreement, we Must meet again to-morrow — who shall be Victorious, Heaven knows only — for by Heaven, Victory or death to man is ever given." This said, the King, o'erwhelmed in deep despair, Passed the dread night in agony and prayer. The Champion, silent, joined his bands at rest, Sohrab. 63 And spurned at length despondence from his breast ; Removed from all, he cheered Zuara's heart, And nerved his soul to bear a trying part : — " Ere early morning gilds the ethereal plain, In martial order range my warrior-train ; And when I meet in all his glorious pride, This valiant Turk whom my late rage defied, Should misfortune's smiles my arduous task requite, Bring them to share the triumph of my might ; But should success the stripling's arm attend, And dire defeat and death my glories end, To their loved homes my brave associates guide ; Let bowery Zabul all their sorrows hide — Comfort my venerable father's heart ; In gentlest words my heavy fate impart. The dreadful tidings to my mother bear, 1 And soothe her anguish with the tenderest care ; Say, that the will of righteous Heaven decreed, That thus in arms her mighty son should bleed. Enough of fame my various toils acquired, When warring demons, bathed in blood, expired. Were life prolonged a thousand lingering years, Death comes at last and ends our mortal fears ; Kirshasp, and Sam, and Nariman, the best And bravest heroes, who have ever blest This fleeting world, were not endued with power, To stay the march of fate one single hour ; The world for them possessed no fixed abode, 1 In the East, peculiarly strong attachment to the mother is universal. 64 Firdausi. The path to death's cold regions must be trod ; Then, why lament the doom ordained for all ? Thus Jemshid fell, and thus must Rustem fall." RUSTEM DECEIVES SOHRAB. When the bright dawn proclaimed the rising day. The warriors armed, impatient of delay ; But first Sohrab, his proud confederate nigh, Thus wistful spoke, as swelled the boding sigh — " Now, mark my great antagonist in arms ! His noble form my filial bosom warms ; My mother's tokens shine conspicuous here, And all the proofs my heart demands, appear ; Sure this is Rustem, whom my eyes engage ! Shall I, O grief! provoke my Father's rage? Offended Nature then would curse my name, And shuddering nations echo with my shame." He ceased, then Human : " Vain, fantastic thought, Oft have I been where Persia's Champion fought ; And thou hast heard what wonders he performed, When, in his prime, Mazinderan was stormed ; That horse resembles Rustem's, it is true, But not so strong, nor beautiful to view." Sohrab now buckles on his war-attire, His heart all softness, and his brain all fire ; Around his lips such smiles benignant played, He seemed to greet a friend, as thus he said : — " Here let us sit together on the plain, Here, social sit, and from the fight refrain ; Sohrab. 65 Ask we from heaven forgiveness of the past, And bind our souls in friendship that may last ; Ours be the feast — let us be warm and free, For powerful instinct draws me still to thee ; Fain would my heart in bland affection join, Then let thy generous ardor equal mine ; And kindly say, with whom I now contend — What name distinguished boasts my warrior-friend ! Thy name unfit for champion brave to hide, Thy name so long, long sought, and still denied ; Say, art thou Rustem, whom I burn to know? Ingenuous say, and cease to be my foe ! " Sternly the mighty Champion cried, " Away, — Hence with thy wiles — now practised to delay ; The promised struggle, resolute, I claim, Then cease to move me to an act of shame." Sohrab rejoined — " Old man ! thou wilt not hear The words of prudence uttered in thine ear ; Then, Heaven ! look on." Preparing for the shock, Each binds his charger to a neighboring rock ; And girds his loins, and rubs his wrists, and tries Their suppleness and force, with angry eyes ; And now they meet — now rise, and now descend, And strong and fierce their sinewy arms extend ; Wrestling with all their strength they grasp and strain, And blood and sweat flow copious on the plain ; Like raging elephants they furious close ; Commutual wounds are given, and wrenching blows. Sohrab now claps his hands, and forward springs 66 Fir da usi. Impatiently, and round the Champion clings ; Seizes his girdle belt, with power to tear The very earth asunder ; in despair Rustem, defeated, feels his nerves give way, And thundering falls. Sohrab bestrides his prey : Grim as the lion, prowling through the wood, Upon a wild ass springs, and pants for blood. His lifted sword had lopt the gory head, But Rustem, quick, with crafty ardor said : — " One moment, hold ! what, are our laws unknown ? A Chief may fight till he is twice o'erthrown ; The second fall, his recreant blood is spilt, These are our laws, avoid the menaced guilt." Proud of his strength, and easily deceived, The wondering youth the artful tale believed ; Released his prey, and, wild as wind or wave, Neglecting all the prudence of the brave, Turned from the place, nor once the strife renewed, But bounded o'er the plain and other cares pursued, As if all memory of the war had died, All thoughts of him with whom his strength was tried, Human, confounded at the stripling's stay, Went forth, and heard the fortune of the day; Amazed to find the mighty Rustem freed, With deepest grief he wailed the luckless deed. " What ! loose a raging lion from the snare, And let him growling hasten to his lair? Bethink thee well ; in war, from this unwise, This thoughtless act what countless woes may rise ; Never again suspend the final blow, Sohrab. 67 Nor trust the seeming weakness of a foe ! " l " Hence with complaint," the dauntless youth replied, To-morrow's contest shall his fate decide." When Rustem was released, in altered mood He sought the coolness of the murmuring flood ; There quenched his thirst ; and bathed his limbs, and prayed, Beseeching Heaven to yield its strengthening aid. His pious prayer indulgent Heaven approved, And growing strength through all his sinews moved ; 2 Such as erewhile his towering structure knew, When his bold arm unconquered demons slew. Yet in his mien no confidence appeared, No ardent hope his wounded spirits cheered. The Death of Sohrab. Again they met. A glow of youthful grace, Diffused its radiance o'er the stripling's face, And when he saw in renovated guise, The foe so lately mastered ; with surprise, He cried : " What ! rescued from my power, again Dost thou confront me on the battle plain? Or, dost thou, wearied, draw thy vital breath, 1 Thus also Sa'di : " Knowest thou what Zal said to Rustem the Champion ? Never calculate upon the weakness or insignificance of an enemy." 2 Rustem is as much distinguished for piety as bravery. Every success is attributed by him to the favor of Heaven. In the achieve- ment of his labors in the Heft-Khan, his devotion is constant, and he everywhere justly acknowledges that power and victory are derived from God alone. 68 Firdausi. And seek, from warrior bold, the shaft of death ? Truth has no charms for thee, old man ; even now, Some further cheat may lurk upon thy brow ; Twice have I shewn thee mercy, twice thy age Hath been thy safety — twice it soothed my rage." Then mild the Champion : " Youth is proud and vain ! The idle boast a warrior would disdain ; This aged arm perhaps may not control, The wanton fury that inflames thy soul ! " Again, dismounting, each the other viewed With sullen glance, and swift the fight renewed ; Clenched front to front, again they tug and bend, Twist their broad limbs as every nerve would rend ; With rage convulsive Rustem grasps him round ; Bends his strong back, and hurls him to the ground ; Him, who had deemed the triumph all his own ; But dubious of his power to keep him down, Like lightning quick he gives the deadly thrust, And spurns the Stripling weltering in the dust. — Thus as his blood that shining steel imbrues, Thine too shall flow, when Destiny pursues ; * For when she marks the victim of her power, 1 The expression in the original is remarkable. " Assuredly, as thou hast thirsted for blood, Destiny will also thirst for thine, and the very hairs upon thy body will become daggers to destroy thee." This passage is quoted in the preface to the Shah Nameh, collated by order of Bayisunghur Khan, as the production of the poet Unsari. Unsari was one of the seven poets whom Mahmud appointed to give specimens of their powers in versifying the history of the kings of Persia. In compliment to Mahmud, perhaps Firdausi ingrafted them on his own poem, or more probably they have been inter- polated since. Sobrab. 69 A thousand daggers speed the dying hour. Writhing with pain Sohrab in murmurs sighed — And thus to Rustem — "Vaunt not, in thy pride; Upon myself this sorrow have I brought, Thou but the instrument of fate — which wrought My downfall; thou art guiltless — guiltless quite; O ! had I seen my father in the fight, My glorious father ! Life will soon be o'er, And his great deeds enchant my soul no more ! Of him my mother gave the mark and sign, For him I sought, and what an end is mine ! My only wish on earth, my constant sigh, Him to behold, and with that wish I die. But hope not to elude his piercing sight, In vain for thee the deepest glooms of night ; Couldst thou through Ocean's depths for refuge fly, Or midst the star-beams track the upper sky ! Rustem, with vengeance armed, will reach thee there, His soul the prey of anguish and despair." An icy horror chills the Champion's heart, His brain whirls round with agonizing smart ; O'er his wan cheek no gushing sorrows flow, Senseless he sinks beneath the weight of woe ; Relieved at length, with frenzied look, he cries : " Prove thou art mine, confirm my doubting eyes ! For I am Rustem ! " Piercing was the groan, Which burst from his torn heart — as wild and lone, He gazed upon him. Dire amazement shook The dying youth, and mournful thus he spoke : — " If thou art Rustem, cruel is thy part, 70 Firdansi. No warmth paternal seems to fill thy heart ; Else hadst thou known me when, with strong desire, 1 fondly claimed thee for my valiant sire ; Now from my body strip the shining mail, Untie these bands, ere life and feeling fail ; And on my arm the direful proof behold ! Thy sacred bracelet of refulgent gold ! When the loud brazen drums were heard afar, And, echoing round, proclaimed the pending war, Whilst parting tears my mother's eyes o'erflowed, This mystic gift her bursting heart bestowed : ' Take this,' she said, ' thy father's token wear, And promised glory will reward thy care.' The hour is come, but fraught with bitterest woe, We meet in blood to wail the fatal blow." The loosened mail unfolds the bracelet bright, Unhappy gift ! to Rustem's wildered sight ; Prostrate he falls — " By my unnatural hand, My son, my son is slain — and from the land Uprooted." Frantic, in the dust his hair He rends in agony and deep despair ; The western sun had disappeared in gloom, And still the Champion wept his cruel doom ; His wondering legions marked the long delay, And, seeing Rakush riderless astray, The rumor quick to Persia's Monarch spread, And there described the mighty Rustem dead. Kaus, alarmed, the fatal tidings hears; His bosom quivers with increasing fears. " Speed, speed, and see what has befallen to-day Sohrab, 71 To cause these groans and tears — what fatal fray ! If he be lost, if breathless on the ground, And this young warrior, with the conquest crowned — Then must I, humbled, from my kingdom torn, Wander like Jemshid, through the world forlorn." 1 The army roused, rushed o'er the dusty plain, Urged by the Monarch to revenge the slain ; Wild consternation saddened every face, Tus winged with horror sought the fatal place, And there beheld the agonizing sight, — The murderous end of that unnatural fight. Sohrab, still breathing, hears the shrill alarms, His gentle speech suspends the clang of arms : " My light of life now fluttering sinks in shade, Let vengeance sleep, and peaceful vows be made. Beseech the King to spare this Tartar host, For they are guiltless, all to them is lost ; I led them on, their souls with glory fired, While mad ambition all my thoughts inspired. In search of thee, the world before my eyes, War was my choice, and thou the sacred prize ; With thee, my sire ! in virtuous league combined, No tyrant King should persecute mankind. That hope is past — the storm has ceased to rave — My ripening honors wither in the grave ; Then let no vengeance on my comrades fall, Mine was the guilt, and mine the sorrow, all ; How often have I sought thee — oft my mind 1 Jemshid's glory and misfortunes are the constant theme of admiration and reflection amongst the poets of Persia. 72 Firdausi. Figured thee to my sight — o'erjoyed to find My mother's token ; disappointment came, When thou deniedst thy lineage and thy name ; Oh ! still o'er thee my soul impassioned hung, Still to my Father fond affection clung ! But fate, remorseless, all my hopes withstood, And stained thy reeking hands in kindred blood." His faltering breath protracted speech denied : Still from his eyelids flowed a gushing tide ; Through Rustem's soul redoubled horror ran, Heartrending thoughts subdued the mighty man. And now, at last, with joy-illumined eye, The Zabul bands their glorious Chief descry ; But when they saw his pale and haggard look, Knew from what mournful cause he gazed and shook, With downcast mien they moaned and wept aloud ; While Rustem thus addressed the weeping crowd : " Here ends the war ! let gentle peace succeed, Enough of death, I — I have done the deed ! " Then to his brother, groaning deep, he said : — " O what a curse upon a parent's head ! But go — and to the Tartar say — no more, Let war between us steep the earth with gore." Zuara flew and wildly spoke his grief, To crafty Human, the Turanian Chief, Who, with dissembled sorrow, heard him tell The dismal tidings which he knew too well ; "And who," he said, " has caused these tears to flow? Who, but Hujir? He might have stayed the blow; But when Sohrab his Father's banners sought, Sohrab. 7} He still denied that here the Champion fought ; He spread the ruin, he the secret knew, Hence should his crime receive the vengeance due ! " Zuara, frantic, breathed in Rustem's ear, The treachery of the captive Chief, Hujir ; Whose headless trunk had weltered on the strand ; But prayers and force withheld the lifted hand. Then to his dying son the Champion turned, Remorse more deep within his bosom burned ; A burst of frenzy fired his throbbing brain ; He clenched his sword, but found his fury vain; The Persian Chiefs the desperate act represt, And tried to calm the tumult in his breast : Thus Gudarz spoke : " Alas ! wert thou to give Thyself a thousand wounds, and cease to live ; What would it be to him thou sorrowest o'er? It would not save one pang — then weep no more ; For if removed by death, O say, to whom Has ever been vouchsafed a different doom ? All are the prey of death — the crowned, the low, And man, through life, the victim still of woe." Then Rustem : " Fly ! and to the King relate, The pressing horrors which involve my fate ; And if the memory of my deeds e'er swayed His mind, O supplicate his generous aid ; A sovereign balm he has whose wondrous power, All wounds can heal, and fleeting life restore ; l Swift from his tent the potent medicine bring." 1 The Hindus, in their books on medicine, talk of drugs for the recovery of the dead ! 74 Firdausi. — But mark the malice of the brainless King ! Hard as the flinty rock, he stern denies The healthful draught, and gloomy thus replies : — "Can I forgive his foul and slanderous tongue? The sharp disdain on me contemptuous flung? Scorned midst my army by a shameless boy, Who sought my throne, my sceptre to destroy ! Nothing but mischief from his heart can flow ; Is it, then, wise to cherish such a foe ? The fool who warms his enemy to life, Only prepares for scenes of future strife." Gudarz, returning, told the hopeless tale — And thinking Rustem's presence might prevail, The Champion rose, but ere he reached the throne, Sohrab had breathed the last expiring groan. Rustem's Grief. Now keener anguish racked the father's mind, Reft of his son, a murderer of his kind ; His guilty sword distained with filial gore, He beat his burning breast, his hair he tore ; The breathless corse before his shuddering view, A shower of ashes o'er his head he threw ; 1 " In my old age," he cried, " what have I done? Why have I slain my son, my innocent son ! 1 Scattering ashes over the head is a very ancient mode of ex- pressing grief. Thus 2 Samuel iii. 31 : " And David said to Joab, and to all the people that were with him, Rend your clothes, and gird you with sackcloth, and mourn before Abner.'* Also, xiii. 16: " And Tamar put ashes on her head, and rent her garment." Sobrab. 75 Why o'er his splendid dawning did I roll The clouds of death, — and plunge my burthened soul In agony ? My son ! from heroes sprung ; Better these hands were from my body wrung ; And solitude and darkness, deep and drear, Fold me from sight than hated linger here. But when his mother hears, with horror wild, That I have shed the life-blood of her child, So nobly brave, so dearly loved, in vain, How can her heart that rending shock sustain ? " Now on a bier the Persian warriors place The breathless Youth, and shade his pallid face ; And turning from that fatal field away, Move toward the Champion's home in long array. Then Rustem, sick of martial pomp and show, Himself the spring of all this scene of woe, Doomed to the flames the pageantry he loved, 1 Shield, spear, and mace, so oft in battle proved ; Now lost to all, encompassed by despair ; His bright pavilion crackling blazed in air ; The sparkling throne the ascending column fed ; In smoking fragments fell the golden bed ; The raging fire red glimmering died away, And all the Warrior's pride in dust and ashes lay. Kaus, the King, now joins the mournful Chief, And tries to soothe his deep and settled grief; For soon or late we yield our vital breath, And all our worldly troubles end in death ! 1 I know nothing of the kind in any of our epic or dramatic poets superior to this fine burst of agonized feeling and remorse. 76 Fir dan si. " When first I saw him, graceful in his might, He looked far other than a Tartar knight ; Wondering I gazed — now Destiny has thrown Him on thy sword — he fought, and he is gone ; And should even Heaven against the earth be hurled, Or fire invvrap in crackling flames the world, That which is past — we never can restore, His soul has travelled to some happier shore. Alas ! no good from sorrow canst thou reap, Then wherefore thus in gloom and misery weep?" But Rustem's mighty woes disdained his aid, His heart was drowned in grief, and thus he said : — " Yes, he is gone ! to me forever lost ! O then protect his brave unguided host ; From war removed and this detested place, Let them, unharmed, their mountain-wilds retrace ; Bid them secure my brother's will obey, The careful guardian of their weary way. 1 To where the Jihun's distant waters stray." To this the King : " My soul is sad to see Thy hopeless grief — but, since approved by thee, The war shall cease — though the Turanian brand Has spread dismay and terror through the land." The King, appeased, no more with vengeance burned, The Tartar legions to their homes returned ; The Persian warriors, gathering round the dead, Grovelled in dust, and tears of sorrow shed ; Then back to loved Iran their steps the monarch led. 1 Zuara conducted the troops of Afrasiyab across the Jihun. Rustem remained on the field of battle till his return. Sohrab. 77 SOHRAB TAKEN HOME. But Rustem, midst his native bands, remained, And further rites of sacrifice maintained ; A thousand horses bled at his command, And the torn drums were scattered o'er the sand ; And now through Zabul's deep and bowery groves, In mournful pomp the sad procession moves. The mighty Chief on foot precedes the bier ; His Warrior-friends, in grief assembled near : The dismal cadence rose upon the gale, And Zal astonished heard the piercing wail ; He and his kindred joined the solemn train ; Hung round the bier and wondering viewed the slain. "There gaze, and weep ! " the sorrowing Father said, " For there, behold my glorious offspring dead ! " The hoary Sire shrunk backward with surprise, And tears of blood o'erflowed his aged eyes ; And now the Champion's rural palace gate Receives the funeral group in gloomy state ; Rudabeh loud bemoaned the Stripling's doom ; Sweet flower, all drooping in the hour of bloom, His tender youth in distant bowers had past, Sheltered at home he felt no withering blast ; In the soft prison of his mother's arms, Secure from danger and the world's alarms. O ruthless Fortune ! flushed with generous pride, He sought his sire, and thus unhappy, died. Rustem again the sacred bier unclosed ; Again Sohrab to public view exposed ; 78 Firciausi. Husbands, and wives, and warriors, old and young, Struck with amaze, around the body hung, With garments rent and loosely flowing hair ; Their shrieks and clamors filled the echoing air ; Frequent they cried : " Thus Sam the Champion slept ! Thus sleeps Sohrab ! " Again they groaned, and wept. Now o'er the corpse a yellow robe is spread, The aloes bier is closed upon the dead ; And, to preserve the hapless hero's name, Fragrant and fresh, that his unblemished fame Might live and bloom through all succeeding days, A mound sepulchral on the spot they raise, Formed like a charger's hoof. In every ear The story has been told — and many a tear, Shed at the sad recital. Through Turan, Afrasiyab's wide realm, and Samengan, Deep sunk the tidings ; — nuptial bower, and bed, And all that promised happiness, had fled ! The Mother's Grief. But when Tahmineh heard this tale of woe, Think how a mother bore the mortal blow ! 1 Distracted, wild, she sprang from place to place ; With frenzied hands deformed her beauteous face ; The musky locks her polished temples crowned, 1 It would appear that Human, on his return, sent to Tahmineh the war-horse, armor, and everything belonging to her unfortunate son. Sohrao. 79 Furious she tore, and flung upon the ground ; Starting, in agony of grief, she gazed, — Her swimming eyes to Heaven imploring raised ; And groaning cried : " Sole comfort of my life ! Doomed the sad victim of unnatural strife, Where art thou now with dust and blood defiled ? Thou darling boy, my lost, my murdered child ! When thou wert gone — how, night and lingering day, Did thy fond mother watch the time away ; For hope still pictured all I wished to see, Thy father found, and thou returned to me, Yes — thou, exulting in thy father's fame ! And yet, nor sire nor son, nor tidings, came : How could I dream of this? ye met — but how? That noble aspect — that ingenuous brow, Moved not a nerve in him — ye met — to part, Alas ! the life-blood issuing from the heart. Sho'rt was the day which gave to me delight, Soon, soon, succeeds a long and dismal night ; On whom shall now devolve my tender care? Who, loved like thee, my bosom-sorrows share ? Whom shall I take to fill thy vacant place, To whom extend a mother's soft embrace? Sad fate ! for one so young, so fair, so brave, Seeking thy father thus to find a grave. These arms no more shall fold thee to my breast> No more with thee my soul be doubly blest ; No, drowned in blood thy lifeless body lies, Forever torn from these desiring eyes ; Friendless, alone, beneath a foreign sky, 80 Firdausi. Thy mail thy death-clothes — and thy father, by ; Why did not I conduct thee on the way, And point where Rustem's bright pavilion lay? Thou hadst the tokens — why didst thou withhold Those dear remembrances — that pledge of gold? Hadst thou the bracelet to his view restored, Thy precious blood had never stained his sword." The strong emotion choked her panting breath, Her veins seemed withered by the cold of death : The trembling matrons hastening round her mourned, With piercing cries, till fluttering life returned; Then gazing up, distraught, she wept again, And frantic, seeing midst her pitying train, The favorite steed — now more than ever dear, The hoofs she kissed, and bathed with many a tear ; Clasping the mail Sohrab in battle wore, With burning lips she kissed it o'er and o'er ; His martial robes she in her arms comprest, And like an infant strained them to her breast ; The reins, and trappings, club, and spear, were brought, The sword, and shield, with which the Stripling fought, These she embraced with melancholy joy, In sad remembrance of her darling boy. And still she beat her face, and o'er them hung, As in a trance — or to them wildly clung — Day after day she thus indulged her grief, Night after night, disdaining all relief; At length worn out — from earthly anguish riven, The mother's spirit joined her child in Heaven. OMAR KHAYYAM. There is probably no Persian poet so well known to-day as this so-called Eastern Voltaire, and that he should here occupy the place usually assigned to Anwari simply demon- strates Omar's own philosophy, that no one of us knows of how little importance we are after all. In spite, however, of this philosophy, Omar, in the last half-century, owing to Fitzgerald's matchless translation, has been read from East to West. Even in the Rocky Mountains of America a frontiersman, born and bred in that region, was heard 1 to quote the following verse : — " 'Tis but a Tent where takes his one day's rest A Sultan to the realm of Death addrest ; The Sultan rises, and the dark Ferrash Strikes, and prepares it for another Guest." Ghias ud-Din Abul Fath' Umar bin Ibrahim, better known as Omar Khayyam, was born at Naishapur, in Khorasan. somewhere between 1017 and 1050, and he certainly lived into the twelfth century. The only story of his boyhood is the following, which is probably legendary. Omar had two intimate school friends. These young men while studying at Naishapur each promised the other that if, in after years, any one of them became famous he would share his prosperity with his less fortunate friends. Years rolled on. One of them did become famous. Nizam-ul- Mulk becoming the Prime Minister to Sultan Alp Arslan 2 ; 1 See the Hon. John Hay's speech before the Omar Khayyam Club of London, December 8, 1897. 2 " Alp Arslan was the son of Toghrul Beg the Tartar, who had wrested Persia from the feeble successor of Mahmud the Great and 81 82 Omar Khayyam. and faithful to his promise he gave a government position to his friend Hasan ben Sabah, who later tried to supplant his benefactor, but was unsuccessful and was publicly dis- graced, after which he became the head of a set of Persian fanatics called Ismailians, who, under his evil chieftainship, were the terror of the early Crusaders. He was know^n as the "Chief of the Assassins. 11 Ultimately "one of the countless victims of the Assassin's dagger was Nizam- ul-Mulk, the old schoolboy friend. 11 And what was Nizam-ul-Mulk's gift to Omar ? A pension that he might have solitude ; it was all the poet asked, solitude in which to devote his time to mathematics, astronomy, and poetry. His Arabic treatise on algebra has been translated into French, and Gibbon says of the calendar which he and seven of his mathematical contemporaries worked out, that it is a " computation of time which surpasses the Julian and approaches the accuracy of the Gregorian style. 11 Never- theless, it never went into effect. Omar had the Oriental love for roses, — and he is reported to have said, "My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses over it. 11 And it was ; for one of his pupils tells us that " Years after, when I chanced to revisit Naishapur, I went to his final resting- place, and lo ! it was just outside a garden, and trees laden with fruit stretched their boughs over the garden wall, and dropped their flowers upon his tomb, so that the stone was hidden under them. 11 Omar took his takhallus, or poetical name, of Khayyam, which means tent-maker, from this trade, which he or his father is said to have at one time followed. This Persian custom of taking a takhallus is adopted by almost all of these poets, because they introduce their name into their ghazels or poems, usually toward the end ; and as the founded that Seljukian Dynasty which finally roused Europe into the Crusades." — Fitzgerald. Omar Khayyam. 83 proper name seldom sounds well in verse they choose a desirable one. The Sufis, a sect two centuries old at this time, claim this philosopher as one of them, although during Omar's life- time they feared his ridicule and hated his honesty which scorned to disguise his doubts under their veil of mysticism. Indeed Omar says : 1 — " If I myself upon a looser Creed Have loosely strung the Jewel of Good deed, Let this one thing for my Atonement plead : That One for Two I never did mis-read." Still his countrymen find in his epigrammatic verses an esoteric meaning he never meant. The Sufis interpret their Persian poets very much as the Songs of Solomon have been interpreted by the Christians. But Omar's scepticism was real enough ; it belonged to the age of reli- gious darkness in which he lived. Christianity to him meant the Crusades. He, like Hafiz, sang of " woman, wine, and song, 1 ' but he also pulled hard at the knotted threads of life which taught him this : — " And this I know : whether the One True Light Kindle to Love, or Wrath-consume me quite, One Flash of It within the Tavern caught Better than in the Temple lost outright." His idea of contentment we find in the following as rendered by Emerson : — " On earth's wide thoroughfares below Two only men contented go : Who knows what's right and what's forbid, And he from whom is knowledge hid." Westerners seem almost jealous for this Oriental. They resent the fact that a narrow Eastern province should 1 Bodleian Quatrain. 84 Omar Khayyam. claim this astronomer-poet as belonging exclusively to itself ; they say he belongs to the world ! Certainly reparation has been made to Omar and his famous translator, Fitzgerald, since the days when a dis- couraged bookseller in London threw the bulk of the first edition into a box outside his shop to sell for " a penny apiece." Here they were found by Rossetti and Swinburne, and now copies of this first edition cannot be bought for a hundred dollars. From such obscurity this Eastern singer has risen into a positive cult, with an Omar Khayyam Club in London, organized in 1892, and one recently started in Boston called the Omar Khayyam Club of America. When one glances at the list of translators of this Per- sian genius and also the different editions of his Rubaiyat, one can apprehend how true it seems that — " There's not a sage but has gone mad for thee." SELECTIONS FROM THE RUBAIYAT. 1 The sun has cast on wall and roof his net of burning light, The lordly day fills high the cup to speed the parting night ; " Wake ! " cries in silver accents the herald of the dawn ; " Arise and drink ! the darkness flies — the morning rises bright." 2. The rosy dawn shines through the tavern door, And cries, " Wake ! slumbering reveller, and pour ! 1 Anonymous, but accredited to E. A. Johnson. Rubaiyat. 85 For ere my sands of life be all run out, I fain would fill my jars with wine once more." 3- To morrow rank and fame for none may be, So for to-day thy weary soul set free ; Drink with me, love, once more beneath the moon ; She oft may shine again, but not on thee and me. 4- If wine and song there be to give thee soul-entrancing bliss, If there be spots where verdant fields and purling brook- lets kiss, Ask thou no more from Providence, nor turn thee in despair ; If there be any paradise for man, 'tis even this. 5- Thy ruby lip pours fragrance unto mine, Thine eye's deep chalice bids me drink thy soul ; As yonder crystal goblet brims with wine, So in thy tear the heart's full tide doth roll. 6. What reck we that our sands runout in Balkh or Babylon, Or bitter be the draught or sweet, so once the draught is done. Drink then thy wine with me, for many a silver moon Shall wax and wane when thou and I are gone. 86 Omar Khayyam. 7- To those who know the truth, what choice of foul or fair Where lovers rest ; though 'twere in Hell, for them 'tis Heaven there. What recks the Dervish that he wears sackcloth or satin sheen, Or lovers that beneath their heads be rocks or pillows fair. 8. O Love ! chief record of the realms of truth, The chiefest couplet in the ode of youth ! Oh, thou who knowest not the world of love, Learn this, that life is love, and love is ruth. 9- Though with the rose and rosy wine I dwell, Yet time to me no tale of joy doth tell ; My days have brought no sign of hopes fulfilled ; 'Tis past ! the phantoms fly, and breaks the spell. io. Though sweet the rose, yet sorely wounds the thorn ; Though deep we drink to-night, we rue the morn ; And though a thousand years were granted, say, Were it not hard to wait the last day's dawn? ii. As sweeps the plain the hurrying wind, as flows the rip- pling stream. Rubaiyat. 87 So yesterday from our two lives has passed and is a dream ; And while I live, these to my soul shall bring nor hope, nor dread, The morrow that may never come, the yesterday that fled. 12. Oh, joy in solitude ! of thee well may the poet sing ; Woe worth the heart that owns no soil wherein that flower may spring ; For when wassail sinks in wailing and traitor friends are gone, Proudly through vacant hall the sturdy wanderer's step shall ring. 13- If grief be the companion of thy heart, Brood not o'er thine own sorrows and their smart ; Behold another's woe, and learn thereby How small thine own, and comfort thy sad heart. 14. Oh, swiftly came the winter wind, and swiftly hurried past; So madly sought my longing soul the rest she found at last; Now faint and weak as weakness' self, she waits but for the end ; The bowl is broke, the wine remains, but on the ground is cast. 88 Omar Khayyam. Through the unknown life's first dark day my soul Did seek the tablet and the pen, and Paradise and Hell Then read the teacher from his mystic scroll ; Tablet and pen are in thine hand, and so are Heaven and Hell. 16. Hast seen the world? All thou hast seen is naught, All thou hast said, all thou hast heard or wrought : Sweep the horizon's verge from pole to pole, 'tis vain ; Even all thou hast in secret done is naught. 17. The Architect of heaven's blue dome and Ruler of the wave In many a grief-laden heart doth deeper plunge the glaive, And gathers many a silken tress and many a ruby lip To fill his puppet-show, the world, and his chibouque, the grave. 18. Though I be formed of water and of clay, And with the ills of life content for aye, Ever thou bid'st me shun the joyful cup. My hand is empty : wherefore bid'st me stay? 19. Much have I wandered over vale and plain, Through many climes, in joy, in grief and pain, Rubaiyat. 89 Yet never heard men say " The traveller Who passed this way has now returned again." 20. Lo, blood of men slain by the stroke of doom ! Lo, dust of men strewn on the face of earth ! Oh, take what life may give of youth and mirth ; Full many an opening bud shall never bloom. 21. Drink ! for thou soon shalt sleep within the tomb, Nor friend nor foe shall break the eternal gloom. Beware ! and tell to none his secret dark, — The faded cose may never hope to bloom. 22. Fill high the cup though ache the weary brow ; Fill with the wine that doth with life endow, For life is but a tale by watch-fire told. Haste thee ! the fire burns low — the night grows old ! NIZAMI. Nizami, 1 the first great romantic poet of Persia, was born 1 141 a.d. at Ganja in Arran, now the Russian town of Elizabethpol. His life was devoted to asceticism, mainly due to the religious atmosphere of Ganja, the inhabitants of which were Sunnites, who allowed no one to remain in their city who was not of their faith. As a recluse Nizami had the reputation for the most rigid sanc- tity. Ata Beg wished to test the piety of this poet, so with great display he visited him in his humble retreat, hoping by such magnificence to tempt Nizami to return with him to court. But it was a fruitless journey, and Ata Beg returned filled with the most profound veneration for this really sincere poet. Nizami, whose poetical genius has been ranked next to that of Firdausi, did not publish his first work until he was nearly forty years old. This work was called The Storehouse of Mysteries, and was a result of his medita- tions on God and man. Following this, appeared the Khosru and Shirin, a Persian romance with historical foundation. In appreciation of his genius he is said to have received an estate consisting of fourteen villages. His Divan, supposed to have consisted of twenty thou- sand verses, came out about 1188, followed by the famous love story of Laili and Majnun, which he is said to have written in four months, and which shows his remarkable power in depicting human passions. Reading Firdausi 1 s Shah-Nameh gave him the idea of writing his Alex- ander Book, an epic divided into two parts, showing Alexander, first as conqueror, and second as prophet, * Nizam-ud-din Abu Muhammad Ilyas ben Yusuf. 90 Laili and Majnun. 91 philosopher, and traveller. In his last book, the Seven Fair Faces, he returned to romantic fiction ; for this book consists of seven stories told to the Sassanian king, Bah- rain Gor, by his seven favorite wives. These works to- gether form the Five Treasures of Nizami. The poet's masterpiece is the famous Bedouin love story of Laili and Majnun, which is so frequently com- pared to Ariosto's Orlando Furioso, and is the Romeo and Jidiet of the East. France has its Abelard and Eloise, Italy its Petrarch and Laura, and Persia and Arabia have this pure, pathetic romance, — a romance which the Ori- entals consider the personification of faithful love. If he had been a Sufi, we should say that Laili and Maj- nun might be meant to depict the passion of the soul in its progress to eternity, or to represent the "reciprocal affection of the body and the soul.'" 1 According to one admirer, the character of the poet justifies any spiritual interpretation of this poem, and it is a well-known fact that in the Masnavi and Odes of Hafiz the names of Laili and Majnun seem to be used for the Omnipresent Spirit of God. 2 Sa'di has written of Nizami's genius, and Hafiz says of him : — " Not all the treasured store of ancient days Can equal the sweetness of Nizami's lays." THE LOVES OF LAILI AND MAJNUN. 3 i. Saki, 4 thou know'st I worship wine ; Let that delicious cup be mine. 1 Horace Hayman Wilson, late Sanskrit scholar at Oxford. 2 Sir William Jones. 3 Translated by Mr. James Atkinson. 4 Saki, cup-bearer. 92 Ni{ami. Wine ! pure and limpid as my tears, Dispeller of a lover's fears ; With thee inspired, with thee made bold, 'Midst combat fierce my post I hold ; With thee inspired, I touch the string, And, rapt, of love and pleasure sing. Thou art a lion, seeking prey, Along the glades where wild deer stray ; And like a lion I would roam, To bring the joys I seek for home ; With wine, life's dearest, sweetest treasure, I feel the thrill of every pleasure : — Bring, Saki, bring thy ruby now ; Its lustre sparkles on thy brow, And, flashing with a tremulous light, Has made thy laughing eyes more bright. Bring, bring the liquid gem, and see Its power, its wondrous power, in me. — ^Ro ancestors have I to boast ; The trace of my descent is lost. From Adam what do I inherit? What but a sad and troubled spirit? For human life, from oldest time, Is ever marked with guilt and crime ; And man, betrayer and betrayed, Lurks like a spider in the shade ; But wine still plays a magic part, Exalting high the drooping heart. Then, Saki, linger not, but give The blissful balm on which I live. Laili and Majnun. 93 Come, bring the juice of the purple vine, Bring, bring the musky- scented wine ; A draught of wine the memory clears, And wakens thoughts of other years. — When blushing dawn illumes the sky, Fill up a bumper, fill it high ! That wine which to the fevered lip, With anguish parched, when given to sip, Imparts a rapturous smile, and throws A veil ' o'er all distracting woes : That wine, the lamp which, night and day, Lights us along our weary way ; Which strews the path with fruit and flowers, And gilds with joy our fleeting hours ; And lifts the mind, now grown elate, To Jemshid's 2 glory, Jemshid's state.— But of the kingly race beware ; 'Tis not for thee their smiles to share : Smiles are deceitful, fire looks bright, And sheds a lucid, dazzling light ; But, though attractive, it is known That safety dwells in flight alone. The moth the taper's radiance tries, But 'midst the flame in torment dies : And none lament that foolish pride Which seeks to be with kings allied. — Bring, bring the musky-scented wine ! i The Nepenthe of Homer. 2 The story of Jemshid, one of the early rulers of Persia, is finely told in the Shah-Nameh. 94 Ni{ami. The key of mirth ! it must be mine ; The key which opens wide the door Of rapture's rich and varied store ; Which makes the mounting spirits glad, And feel the pomp of Kai-Kobad. Wine o'er the temper casts a spell Of kindness indescribable : Then, since I'm in the drinking vein, Bring, bring the luscious wine again ! From the vintner bring a fresh supply, And let not the reveller's lips be dry. — Come, Saki, thou art not old, nor lame ; Thou'dst not incur from a minstrel blame ; Let him wash from his heart the dust of sorrow ; And riot in social bliss till the morrow ; Let the sound of the goblet delight his ear, Like the music that breathes from Heaven's own sphere. Laili. Mark, where instruction pours upon the mind The light of knowledge, simple or refined ; Shaikhs of each tribe have children there, and each Studies whate'er the bearded sage can teach. Thence his attainments Kais l assiduous drew, And scattered pearls from lips of ruby hue ; 1 Kais was the original name of the lover, afterward called Majnun, in consequence of the madness produced by his passion. Laili and Ma j nun. 95 And there, of different tribe and gentle mien, A lovely maid of tender years was seen : Her mental powers an early bloom displayed ; Her graceful form in simple garb arrayed : Bright as the morn, her cypress shape, and eyes Dark as the stag's, were viewed with fond surprise ; And when her cheek this Arab moon revealed, A thousand hearts were won ; no pride, no shield, Could check her beauty's power, resistless grown, Given to enthrall and charm — but chiefly one. Her richly flowing locks were black as night, And Laili l she was called — that heart's delight : One single glance the nerves to frenzy wrought, One single glance bewildered every thought ; And, when o'er Kais affection's blushing rose Diffused its sweetness, from him fled repose : Tumultuous passion danced upon his brow ; He sought to woo her, but he knew not how : He gazed upon her cheek, and, as he gazed, Love's flaming taper more intensely blazed. Soon mutual pleasure warm'd each other's heart ; Love conquer'd both — they never dreamt to part ; 1 Laili, in Arabic, signifies night ; the name, however, has been referred to her color, and she is accused of possessing no beauty but in the eyes of her lover, being short in stature, and dark in complexion. A poet is said to have addressed her, saying; "Art thou the person for whom Kais lost his reason? 1 do not see that thou art so beautiful." " Silence ! " she said, " thou art not Majnun." Another observed to Majnun, " Laili is not surpassing in beauty; what occasions this adoration? " " Thou dost not see Laili with my eyes ! " was his brief reply. According to Nizami and history, Laili not only existed in reality, but was exquisitely beautiful. 96 Ni^ami. And, while the rest were poring o'er their books, They pensive mused, and read each other's looks : While other schoolmates for distinction strove, And thought of fame, they only thought of love : While others various climes in books explored, Both idly sat — adorer and adored : Science for them had now no charms to boast ; Learning for them had all its virtue lost : Their only taste was love, and love's sweet ties, And writing ghazels to each other's eyes. Yes, love triumphant came, engrossing all The fond luxuriant thoughts of youth and maid ; And, whilst subdued in that delicious thrall, Smiles and bright tears upon their features played. Then in soft converse did they pass the hours, — Their passion, like the season, fresh and fair ; Their opening path seemed decked with balmiest flowers, Their melting words as soft as summer air. Immersed in love so deep, They hoped suspicion would be lulled asleep, And none be conscious of their amorous state ; They hoped that none with prying eye, And gossip tongue invidiously, Might to the busy world its truth relate : And, thus possessed, they anxious thought Their passion would be kept unknown ; Wishing to seem what they were not, Though all observed their hearts were one. Laili and Majnun. 97 By worldly prudence uncontrolled, Their every glance their feelings told ; For true love never yet had skill To veil impassioned looks at will. When ringlets of a thousand curls, And ruby lips, and teeth of pearls, And dark eyes flashing quick and bright, Like lightning on the brow of night — When charms like these their power display, And steal the wildered heart away — Can man, dissembling, coldly seem Unmoved as by an idle dream ? Kais saw her beauty, saw her grace, The soft expression of her face ; And as he gazed, and gazed again, Distraction stung his burning brain : No rest he found by day or night — Laili forever in his sight. But, oh ! when separation came, More brightly glowed his ardent flame ; And she, with equal sorrow fraught, Bewailed the fate upon them brought. — He wandered wild through lane and street. With frantic step, as if to meet Something which still his search defied, Reckless of all that might betide. His bosom heaved with groans and sighs, Tears ever gushing from his eyes ; And still he struggled to conceal The anguish he was doomed to feel ; 98 Ni{