“Her merits must have been great.” Thus spake the Son of the Chan.
“Ruler of Destiny, thou hast spoken words! Ssarwala missdood jakzang!” Thus spake Ssidi, and burst from the sack through the air.
Thus Ssidi’s eleventh relation treats of the Maiden Ssuwarandari.
In former days there was an old woman, who lived in a hut more confined than the minds of the ignorant, and more dark than the tombs of misers. Her companion was a cat, from the mirror of whose imagination the appearance of bread had never been reflected, nor had she from friends or strangers ever heard its name. It was enough that she now and then scented a mouse, or observed the print of its feet on the floor; when, blessed by favouring stars or benignant fortune, one fell into her claws—
“She became like a beggar who discovers a treasure of gold;Her cheeks glowed with rapture, and past grief was consumed by present joy.”
“She became like a beggar who discovers a treasure of gold;Her cheeks glowed with rapture, and past grief was consumed by present joy.”
“She became like a beggar who discovers a treasure of gold;Her cheeks glowed with rapture, and past grief was consumed by present joy.”
This feast would last for a week or more; and while enjoying it she was wont to exclaim—
“Am I, O God, when I contemplate this, in a dream or awake?Am I to experience such prosperity after such adversity?”
“Am I, O God, when I contemplate this, in a dream or awake?Am I to experience such prosperity after such adversity?”
“Am I, O God, when I contemplate this, in a dream or awake?Am I to experience such prosperity after such adversity?”
But as the dwelling of the old woman was in general the mansion of famine to this cat, she wasalways complaining, and forming extravagant and fanciful schemes. One day, when reduced to extreme weakness, she, with much exertion, reached the top of the hut; when there she observed a cat stalking on the wall of a neighbour’s house, which, like a fierce tiger, advanced with measured steps, and was so loaded with flesh that she could hardly raise her feet. The old woman’s friend was amazed to see one of her own species so fat and sleek, and broke out into the following exclamation:—
“Your stately strides have brought you here at last; pray tell me from whence you come?From whence have you arrived with so lovely an appearance?You look as if from the banquet of the Khan of Khatai.Where have you acquired such a comeliness? and how came you by that glorious strength?”
“Your stately strides have brought you here at last; pray tell me from whence you come?From whence have you arrived with so lovely an appearance?You look as if from the banquet of the Khan of Khatai.Where have you acquired such a comeliness? and how came you by that glorious strength?”
“Your stately strides have brought you here at last; pray tell me from whence you come?From whence have you arrived with so lovely an appearance?You look as if from the banquet of the Khan of Khatai.Where have you acquired such a comeliness? and how came you by that glorious strength?”
The other answered, “I am the Sultan’s crumb-eater. Each morning, when they spread the convivial table, I attend at the palace, and there exhibit my address and courage. From among the rich meats and wheat-cakes I cull a few choice morsels; I then retire and pass my time till next day in delightful indolence.”
The old dame’s cat requested to know what rich meat was, and what taste wheat-cakes had? “As for me,” she added, in a melancholy tone, “during my life I have neither eaten nor seen anything but the old woman’s gruel and the flesh of mice.” The other, smiling, said, “This accounts for the difficultyI find in distinguishing you from a spider. Your shape and stature is such as must make the whole generation of cats blush; and we must ever feel ashamed while you carry so miserable an appearance abroad.
You certainly have the ears and tail of a cat,But in other respects you are a complete spider.
You certainly have the ears and tail of a cat,But in other respects you are a complete spider.
You certainly have the ears and tail of a cat,But in other respects you are a complete spider.
Were you to see the Sultan’s palace, and to smell his delicious viands, most undoubtedly those withered bones would be restored; you would receive new life; you would come from behind the curtain of invisibility into the plane of observation—
When the perfume of his beloved passes over the tomb of a lover,Is it wonderful that his putrid bones should be re-animated?”
When the perfume of his beloved passes over the tomb of a lover,Is it wonderful that his putrid bones should be re-animated?”
When the perfume of his beloved passes over the tomb of a lover,Is it wonderful that his putrid bones should be re-animated?”
The old woman’s cat addressed the other in the most supplicating manner: “O my sister!” she exclaimed, “have I not the sacred claims of a neighbour upon you? are we not linked in the ties of kindred? What prevents your giving a proof of friendship, by taking me with you when next you visit the palace? Perhaps from your favour plenty may flow to me, and from your patronage I may attain dignity and honour.
Withdraw not from the friendship of the honourable;Abandon not the support of the elect.”
Withdraw not from the friendship of the honourable;Abandon not the support of the elect.”
Withdraw not from the friendship of the honourable;Abandon not the support of the elect.”
The heart of the Sultan’s crumb-eater was meltedby this pathetic address; she promised her new friend should accompany her on the next visit to the palace. The latter, overjoyed, went down immediately from the terrace, and communicated every particular to the old woman, who addressed her with the following counsel:—
“Be not deceived, my dearest friend, with the worldly language you have listened to; abandon not your corner of content, for the cup of the covetous is only to be filled by the dust of the grave, and the eye of cupidity and hope can only be closed by the needle of mortality and the thread of fate.
It is content that makes men rich;Mark this, ye avaricious, who traverse the world:He neither knows nor pays adoration to his GodWho is dissatisfied with his condition and fortune.”
It is content that makes men rich;Mark this, ye avaricious, who traverse the world:He neither knows nor pays adoration to his GodWho is dissatisfied with his condition and fortune.”
It is content that makes men rich;Mark this, ye avaricious, who traverse the world:He neither knows nor pays adoration to his GodWho is dissatisfied with his condition and fortune.”
But the expected feast had taken such possession of poor puss’s imagination, that the medicinal counsel of the old woman was thrown away.
“The good advice of all the world is like wind in a cage,Or water in a sieve, when bestowed on the headstrong.”
“The good advice of all the world is like wind in a cage,Or water in a sieve, when bestowed on the headstrong.”
“The good advice of all the world is like wind in a cage,Or water in a sieve, when bestowed on the headstrong.”
To conclude: next day, accompanied by her companion, the half-starved cat hobbled to the Sultan’s palace. Before this unfortunate wretch came, as it is decreed that the covetous shall be disappointed, an extraordinary event had occurred, and, owing to her evil destiny, the water of disappointment was poured on the flame of her immature ambition. The case was this: a whole legion of cats had theday before surrounded the feast, and made so much noise that they disturbed the guests; and in consequence the Sultan had ordered that some archers armed with bows from Tartary should, on this day, be concealed, and that whatever cat advanced into the field of valour, covered with the shield of audacity, should, on eating the first morsel, be overtaken with their arrows. The old dame’s puss was not aware of this order. The moment the flavour of the viands reached her, she flew like an eagle to the place of her prey.
Scarcely had the weight of a mouthful been placed in the scale to balance her hunger, when a heart-dividing arrow pierced her breast.
A stream of blood rushed from the wound.She fled, in dread of death, after having exclaimed,“Should I escape from this terrific archer,I will be satisfied with my mouse and the miserable hut of my old mistress.My soul rejects the honey if accompanied by the sting.Content, with the most frugal fare, is preferable.”
A stream of blood rushed from the wound.She fled, in dread of death, after having exclaimed,“Should I escape from this terrific archer,I will be satisfied with my mouse and the miserable hut of my old mistress.My soul rejects the honey if accompanied by the sting.Content, with the most frugal fare, is preferable.”
A stream of blood rushed from the wound.She fled, in dread of death, after having exclaimed,“Should I escape from this terrific archer,I will be satisfied with my mouse and the miserable hut of my old mistress.My soul rejects the honey if accompanied by the sting.Content, with the most frugal fare, is preferable.”
During the reign of a mighty rajah named Guddeh Sing, a celebrated, and as it is now supposed, deified priest, or hutteet, called Dhurrumnath, came, and in all the characteristic humility of his sect established a primitive and temporary resting-place within a few miles of the rajah’s residence at Runn, near Mandavie. He was accompanied by his adopted son, Ghurreeb Nath.
From this spot Dhurrumnath despatched his son to seek for charitable contributions from the inhabitants of the town. To this end Ghurreeb Nath made several visits; but being unsuccessful, and at the same time unwilling that his father should know of the want of liberality in the city, he at each visit purchased food out of some limited funds of his own. At length, his little hoard failing, on the sixth day he was obliged to confess the deceit he had practised.
Dhurrumnath, on being acquainted with this, became extremely vexed, and vowed that from that day all the rajah’s putteen cities should becomedesolate and ruined. The tradition goes on to state that in due time these cities were destroyed; Dhurrumnath, accompanied by his son, left the neighbourhood, and proceeded to Denodur. Finding it a desirable place, he determined on performing Tupseeah, or penance, for twelve years, and chose the form of standing on his head.
On commencing to carry out this determination, he dismissed his son, who established his Doonee in the jungles, about twenty miles to the north-west of Bhooj. After Dhurrumnath had remained Tupseeah for twelve years, he was visited by all the angels from heaven, who besought him to rise; to which he replied, that if he did so, the portion of the country on which his sight would first rest would become barren: if villages, they would disappear; if woods or fields, they would equally be destroyed. The angels then told him to turn his head to the north-east, where flowed the sea. Upon this he resumed his natural position, and, turning his head in the direction he was told, opened his eyes, when immediately the sea disappeared, the stately ships became wrecks, and their crews were destroyed, leaving nothing behind but a barren, unbroken desert, known as the Runn.
Dhurrumnath, too pure to remain on the earth, partook of an immediate and glorious immortality, being at once absorbed into the spiritual nature ofthe creating, the finishing, the indivisible, all-pervading Brum.
This self-imposed penance of Dhurrumnath has shed a halo of sanctity around the hill of Denodur, and was doubtless the occasion of its having been selected as a fitting site for a Jogie establishment, the members of which, it is probable, were originally the attendants on a small temple that had been erected, and which still remains, on the highest point of the hill, on the spot where the holy Dhurrumnath is said to have performed his painful Tupseeah.
It is related that a man, mounted upon a camel, in the course of travelling arrived at a place where others from the same caravan had lighted a fire before proceeding on their journey. The fan-like wind, breathing on the embers, had produced a flame; and the sparks, flying over the jungle, the dry wood had become ignited, and the whole plain glowed like a bed of tulips.
In the midst of this was an enormous snake, which, encircled by the flames, possessed no means of escape, and was about to be broiled like a fish, or kabobed like a partridge for the table. Blood oozed from its poison-charged eyes; and, seeing the man and the camel, it thus supplicated for assistance—
“What if in kindness thou vouchsafe me thy pity;Loosen the knot with which my affairs are entangled.”
“What if in kindness thou vouchsafe me thy pity;Loosen the knot with which my affairs are entangled.”
“What if in kindness thou vouchsafe me thy pity;Loosen the knot with which my affairs are entangled.”
Now the traveller was a good man, and one who feared God. When he heard the complaint of the snake, and saw its pitiable condition, he reasoned thus with himself: “This snake is, indeed, theenemy of man, but being in trouble and perplexity, it would be most commendable in me to drop the seed of compassion, the fruit of which is prosperity in this world, and exaltation in the next.” Thus convinced, he fastened one of his saddle-bags to the end of his spear, and extended it to the snake, which, delighted at escape, entered the bag, and was rescued from the flames. The man then opening the mouth of the bag, addressed it thus: “Depart whither thou wilt, but forget not to offer up thanksgiving for thy preservation; henceforth seek the corner of retirement, and cease to afflict mankind, for they who do so are dishonest in this world and the next—
Fear God—distress no one;This indeed is true salvation.”
Fear God—distress no one;This indeed is true salvation.”
Fear God—distress no one;This indeed is true salvation.”
The snake replied, “O young man, hold thy peace, for truly I will not depart until I have wounded both thee and this camel.”
The man cried out, “But how is this? Have I not rendered thee a benefit? Why, then, is such to be my recompense?
On my part there was faithfulness,Why then this injustice upon thine?”
On my part there was faithfulness,Why then this injustice upon thine?”
On my part there was faithfulness,Why then this injustice upon thine?”
The snake said, “True, thou hast shown mercy, but it was to an unworthy object; thou knowest me to be an agent of injury to mankind, consequently, when thou savedst me from destruction,thou subjectedst thyself to the same rule that applies to the punishment due for an evil act committed against a worthy object.
“Again, between the snake and man there is a long-standing enmity, and they who employ foresight hold it as a maxim of wisdom to bruise the head of an enemy; to thy security my destruction was necessary, but, in showing mercy, thou hast forfeited vigilance. It is now necessary that I should wound thee, that others may learn by thy example.”
The man cried, “O snake, call but in the counsel of justice; in what creed is it written, or what practice declares, that evil should be returned for good, or that the pleasure of conferring benefits should be returned by injury and affliction?”
The snake replied, “Such is the practice amongst men. I act according to thy own decree; the same commodity of retribution I have purchased from thee I also sell.
Buy for one moment that which thou sell’st for years.”
Buy for one moment that which thou sell’st for years.”
Buy for one moment that which thou sell’st for years.”
In vain did the traveller entreat, the snake ever replying, “I do but treat thee after the manner of men.” This the man denied. “But,” said he, “let us call witnesses: if thou prove thy assertion, I will yield to thy will.” The snake, looking round, saw a cow grazing at a distance, and said, “Come, we will ask this cow the rights of the question.” Whenthey came up to the cow, the snake, opening its mouth, said, “O cow, what is the recompense for benefits received?”
The cow said, “If thou ask me after the manner of men, the return of good is always evil. For instance, I was for a long time in the service of a farmer; yearly I brought forth a calf; I supplied his house with milk and ghee; his sustenance, and the life of his children, depended upon me. When I became old, and no longer produced young, he ceased to shelter me, and thrust me forth to die in a jungle. After finding forage, and roaming at my ease, I grew fat, and my old master, seeing my plump condition, yesterday brought with him a butcher, to whom he has sold me, and to-day is appointed for my slaughter.”
The snake said, “Thou hast heard the cow; prepare to die quickly.” The man cried, “It is not lawful to decide a case on the evidence of one witness, let us then call another.” The snake looked about and saw a tree, leafless and bare, flinging up its wild branches to the sky. “Let us,” said it, “appeal to this tree.” They proceeded together to the tree; and the snake, opening its mouth, said, “O tree, what is the recompense for good?”
The tree said, “Amongst men, for benefits are returned evil and injury. I will give you a proof of what I assert. I am a tree which, though growing on one leg in this sad waste, was once flourishingand green, performing service to every one. When any of the human race, overcome with heat and travel, came this way, they rested beneath my shade, and slept beneath my branches; when the weight of repose abandoned their eyelids, they cast up their eyes to me, and said to each other, ‘Yon twig would do well for an arrow; that branch would serve for a plough; and from the trunk of this tree what beautiful planks might be made!’ If they had an axe or a saw, they selected my branches, and carried them away. Thus they to whom I gave ease and rest rewarded me only with pain and affliction.
Whilst my care overshadows him in perplexity,He meditates only how best to root me up.”
Whilst my care overshadows him in perplexity,He meditates only how best to root me up.”
Whilst my care overshadows him in perplexity,He meditates only how best to root me up.”
“Well,” said the snake, “here are two witnesses; therefore, form thy resolution, for I must wound thee.” The man said, “True; but the love of life is powerful, and while strength remains, it is difficult to root the love of it from the heart. Call but one more witness, and then I pledge myself to submit to his decree.” Now it so wonderfully happened that a fox, who had been standing by, had heard all the argument, and now came forward. The snake on seeing it exclaimed, “Behold this fox, let us ask it.” But before the man could speak the fox cried out, “Dost thou not know that the recompense for good is always evil? But what good hast thou done in behalf of this snake, to render thee worthyof punishment?” The man related his story. The fox replied, “Thou seemest an intelligent person, why then dost thou tell me an untruth?
How can it be proper for him that is wise to speak falsely?How can it become an intelligent man to state an untruth?”
How can it be proper for him that is wise to speak falsely?How can it become an intelligent man to state an untruth?”
How can it be proper for him that is wise to speak falsely?How can it become an intelligent man to state an untruth?”
The snake said, “The man speaks truly, for behold the bag in which he rescued me.” The fox, putting on the garb of astonishment, said, “How can I believe this thing? How could a large snake such as thou be contained in so small a space?” The snake said, “If thou doubt me, I will again enter the bag to prove it.” The fox said, “Truly if I saw thee there, I could believe it, and afterwards settle the dispute between thee and this man.” On this the traveller opened the bag, and the snake, annoyed at the disbelief of the fox, entered it; which observing, the fox cried out, “O young man, when thou hast caught thine enemy, show him no quarter.
When an enemy is vanquished, and in thy power,It is the maxim of the wise to show him no mercy.”
When an enemy is vanquished, and in thy power,It is the maxim of the wise to show him no mercy.”
When an enemy is vanquished, and in thy power,It is the maxim of the wise to show him no mercy.”
The traveller took the hint of the fox, fastened the mouth of the bag, and, dashing it against a stone, destroyed the snake, and thus saved mankind from the evil effects of its wicked propensities.
Persia was at peace, and prosperous; but its king, Ky-Kâoos, could never remain at rest. A favourite singer gave him one day an animated account of the beauties of the neighbouring kingdom of Mazenderan: its ever-blooming roses, its melodious nightingales, its verdant plains, its mountains shaded with lofty trees, and adorned to their summits with flowers which perfumed the air, its clear murmuring rivulets, and, above all, its lovely damsels and valiant warriors.
All these were described to the sovereign in such glowing colours that he quite lost his reason, and declared he should never be happy till his power extended over a country so favoured by Nature. It was in vain that his wisest ministers and most attached nobles dissuaded him from so hazardous an enterprise as that of invading a region which had, besides other defenders, a number of Deevs, or demons, who, acting under their renowned chief, Deev-e-Seffeed, or the White Demon, had hitherto defeated all enemies.
Ky-Kâoos would not listen to his nobles, who in despair sent for old Zâl, the father of Roostem, and prince of Seestan. Zâl came, and used all his efforts, but in vain; the monarch was involved in clouds of pride, and closed a discussion he had with Zâl by exclaiming, “The Creator of the world is my friend; the chief of the Deevs is my prey.” This impious boasting satisfied Zâl he could do no good; and he even refused to become regent of Persia in the absence of Ky-Kâoos, but promised to aid with his counsel.
The king departed to anticipated conquest; but the prince of Mazenderan summoned his forces, and, above all, the Deev-e-Seffeed and his band. They came at his call: a great battle ensued, in which the Persians were completely defeated. Ky-Kâoos was made prisoner, and confined in a strong fortress under the guard of a hundred Deevs, commanded by Arjeng, who was instructed to ask the Persian monarch every morning how he liked the roses, nightingales, flowers, trees, verdant meadows, shady mountains, clear streams, beautiful damsels, and valiant warriors of Mazenderan.
The news of this disaster soon spread over Persia, and notwithstanding the disgust of old Zâl at the headstrong folly of his monarch, he was deeply afflicted at the tale of his misfortune and disgrace. He sent for Roostem, to whom he said, “Go, my son, and with thy single arm, and thy good horse,Reksh, release our sovereign.” Roostem instantly obeyed. There were two roads, but he chose the nearest, though it was reported to be by far the most difficult and dangerous.
Fatigued with his first day’s journey, Roostem lay down to sleep, having turned Reksh loose to graze in a neighbouring meadow, where he was attacked by a furious lion; but this wonderful horse, after a short contest, struck his antagonist to the ground with a blow from his fore-hoof, and completed the victory by seizing the throat of the royal animal with his teeth. When Roostem awoke, he was surprised and enraged. He desired Reksh never again to attempt, unaided, such an encounter. “Hadst thou been slain,” asked he of the intelligent brute, “how should I have accomplished my enterprise?”
At the second stage Roostem had nearly died of thirst, but his prayers to the Almighty were heard. A fawn appeared, as if to be his guide; and following it, he was conducted to a clear fountain, where, after regaling on the flesh of a wild ass, which he had killed with his bow, he lay down to sleep. In the middle of the night a monstrous serpent, seventy yards in length, came out of its hiding-place, and made at the hero, who was awaked by the neighing of Reksh; but the serpent had crept back to its hiding-place, and Roostem, seeing no danger, abused his faithful horse for disturbing his repose. Anotherattempt of the serpent was defeated in the same way; but as the monster had again concealed itself, Roostem lost all patience with Reksh, whom he threatened to put to death if he again awaked him by any such unseasonable noises. The faithful steed, fearing his master’s rage, but strong in his attachment, instead of neighing when the serpent again made his appearance, sprang upon it, and commenced a furious contest. Roostem, hearing the noise, started up and joined in the combat. The serpent darted at him, but he avoided it, and, while his noble horse seized their enemy by the back, the hero cut off its head with his sword.
When the serpent was slain, Roostem contemplated its enormous size with amazement, and, with that piety which always distinguished him, returned thanks to the Almighty for his miraculous escape.
Next day, as Roostem sat by a fountain, he saw a beautiful damsel regaling herself with wine. He approached her, accepted her invitation to partake of the beverage, and clasped her in his arms as if she had been an angel. It happened, in the course of their conversation, that the Persian hero mentioned the name of the great God he adored. At the sound of that sacred word the fair features and shape of the female changed, and she became black, ugly, and deformed. The astonished Roostem seized her, and after binding her hands, bid her declare who she was. “I am a sorceress,” was thereply, “and have been employed by the evil spirit Aharman for thy destruction; but save my life, and I am powerful to do thee service.” “I make no compact with the devil or his agents,” said the hero, and cut her in twain. He again poured forth his soul in thanksgiving to God for his deliverance.
On his fourth stage Roostem lost his way. While wandering about he came to a clear rivulet, on the banks of which he lay down to take some repose, having first turned Reksh loose into a field of grain. A gardener who had charge of it came and awoke the hero, telling him in an insolent tone that he would soon suffer for his temerity, as the field in which his horse was feeding belonged to a pehloovân, or warrior, called Oulâd. Roostem, always irascible, but particularly so when disturbed in his slumbers, jumped up, tore off the gardener’s ears, and gave him a blow with his fist that broke his nose and teeth. “Take these marks of my temper to your master,” he said, “and tell him to come here, and he shall have a similar welcome.”
Oulâd, when informed of what had passed, was excited to fury, and prepared to assail the Persian hero, who, expecting him, had put on his armour and mounted Reksh. His appearance so dismayed Oulâd that he dared not venture on the combat till he had summoned his adherents. They all fell upon Roostem at once; but the base-born caitiffs were scattered like chaff before the wind; manywere slain, others fled, among whom was their chief. Him Roostem came up with at the fifth stage, and having thrown his noose over him, took him prisoner. Oulâd, in order to save his life, not only gave him full information of the place where his sovereign was confined, and of the strength of the Deev-e-Seffeed, but offered to give the hero every aid in the accomplishment of his perilous enterprise. This offer was accepted, and he proved a most useful auxiliary.
On the sixth day they saw in the distance the city of Mazenderan, near which the Deev-e-Seffeed resided. Two chieftains, with numerous attendants, met them; and one had the audacity to ride up to Roostem, and seize him by the belt. That chief’s fury at this insolence was unbounded; he disdained, however, to use his arms against such an enemy, but, seizing the miscreant’s head, wrenched it from the body, and hurled it at his companions, who fled in terror and dismay at this terrible proof of the hero’s prowess.
Roostem proceeded, after this action, with his guide to the castle where the king was confined. The Deevs who guarded it were asleep, and Ky-Kâoos was found in a solitary cell, chained to the ground. He recognised Roostem, and bursting into tears, pressed his deliverer to his bosom. Roostem immediately began to knock off his chains. The noise occasioned by this awoke the Deevs, whoseleader, Beedâr-Reng, advanced to seize Roostem; but the appearance and threats of the latter so overawed him that he consented to purchase his own safety by the instant release of the Persian king and all his followers.
After this achievement Roostem proceeded to the last and greatest of his labours, the attack of the Deev-e-Seffeed. Oulâd told him that the Deevs watched and feasted during the night, but slept during the heat of the day, hating (according to our narrator) the sunbeams. Roostem, as he advanced, saw an immense army drawn out; he thought it better, before he attacked them, to refresh himself by some repose. Having laid himself down, he soon fell into a sound sleep, and at daylight he awoke quite refreshed. As soon as the sun became warm, he rushed into the camp. The heavy blows of his mace soon awoke the surprised and slumbering guards of the Deev-e-Seffeed; they collected in myriads, hoping to impede his progress, but all in vain. The rout became general, and none escaped but those who fled from the field of battle.
When this army was dispersed, Roostem went in search of the Deev-e-Seffeed, who, ignorant of the fate of his followers, slumbered in the recess of a cavern, the entrance to which looked so dark and gloomy that the Persian hero hesitated whether he should advance; but the noise of his approach hadroused his enemy, who came forth, clothed in complete armour. His appearance was terrible; but Roostem, recommending his soul to God, struck a desperate blow, which separated the leg of the Deev from his body. This would on common occasions have terminated the contest, but far different was the result on the present. Irritated to madness by the loss of a limb, the monster seized his enemy in his arms, and endeavoured to throw him down. The struggle was for some time doubtful; but Roostem, collecting all his strength, by a wondrous effort dashed his foe to the ground, and seizing him by one of the horns, unsheathed his dagger and stabbed him to the heart. The Deev-e-Seffeed instantly expired; and Roostem, on looking round to the entrance of the cavern, from whence the moment before he had seen numberless Deevs issuing to the aid of their lord, perceived they were all dead. Oulâd, who stood at a prudent distance from the scene of combat, now advanced and informed the hero that the lives of all the Deevs depended upon that of their chief. When he was slain, the spell which created and preserved this band was broken, and they all expired.
Roostem found little difficulty after these seven days of toil, of danger, and of glory, in compelling Mazenderan to submit to Persia. The king of the country was slain, and Oulâd was appointed its governor as a reward for his fidelity.
The success of his arms had raised Ky-Kâoos to the very plenitude of power; not only men, but Deevs, obeyed his mandates. The latter he employed in building palaces of crystal, emeralds, and rubies, till at last they became quite tired of their toil and abject condition. They sought, therefore, to destroy him; and to effect this they consulted with the devil, who, to forward the object, instructed a Deev, called Dizjkheem, to go to Ky-Kâoos and raise in his mind a passion for astronomy, and to promise him a nearer view of the celestial bodies than had ever yet been enjoyed by mortal eyes. The Deev fulfilled his commission with such success that the king became quite wild with a desire to attain perfection in this sublime science. The devil then instructed Dizjkheem to train some young vultures to carry a throne upwards; this was done by placing spears round the throne, on the points of which pieces of flesh were fixed in view of the vultures, who were fastened at the bottom. These voracious birds, in their efforts to reach the meat, raised the throne.
Though he mounted rapidly for a short time, the vultures became exhausted, and finding their efforts to reach the meat hopeless, discontinued them; this altered the direction and equilibrium of the machine, and it tossed to and fro. Ky-Kâoos would have been cast headlong and killed had he not clung to it. The vultures, not being able todisengage themselves, flew an immense way, and at last landed the affrighted monarch in one of the woods of China. Armies marched in every direction to discover and release the sovereign, who, it was believed, had again fallen into the hands of Deevs. He was at last found and restored to his capital. Roostem, we are told, upbraided his folly, saying—
“Have you managed your affairs so well on earthThat you must needs try your hand in those of heaven?”
“Have you managed your affairs so well on earthThat you must needs try your hand in those of heaven?”
“Have you managed your affairs so well on earthThat you must needs try your hand in those of heaven?”
There was a man, of those possessed of houses and riches, who had wealth and servants and slaves and other possessions; and he departed from the world to receive the mercy of God (whose name be exalted!), leaving a young son. And when the son grew up, he took to eating and drinking, and the hearing of instruments of music and songs, and was liberal and gave gifts, and expended the riches that his father had left to him until all the wealth had gone. He then betook himself to the sale of the male black slaves, and the female slaves, and other possessions, and expended all that he had of his father’s wealth and other things, and became so poor that he worked with the labourers. In this state he remained for a period of years. While he was sitting one day beneath a wall, waiting to see who would hire him, lo! a man of comely countenance and apparel drew near to him and saluted him. So the youth said to him, “O uncle, hast thou known me before now?” The man answered him, “I have not known thee, O my son, at all;but I see the traces of affluence upon thee, though thou art in this condition.” The young man replied, “O uncle, what fate and destiny have ordained hath come to pass. But hast thou, O uncle, O comely-faced, any business in which to employ me?” The man said to him, “O my son, I desire to employ thee in an easy business.” The youth asked, “And what is it, O uncle?” And the man answered him, “I have with me ten sheykhs in one abode, and we have no one to perform our wants. Thou shalt receive from us, of food and clothing, what will suffice thee, and shalt serve us, and thou shalt receive of us thy portion of benefits and money. Perhaps, also, God will restore to thee thine affluence by our means.” The youth therefore replied, “I hear and obey.” The sheykh then said to him, “I have a condition to impose upon thee.” “And what is thy condition, O uncle?” asked the youth. He answered him, “O my son, it is that thou keep our secret with respect to the things that thou shalt see us do; and when thou seest us weep, that thou ask us not respecting the cause of our weeping.” And the young man replied, “Well, O uncle.”
So the sheykh said to him, “O my son, come with us, relying on the blessing of God (whose name be exalted!).” And the young man followed the sheykh until the latter conducted him to the bath; after which he sent a man, who brought hima comely garment of linen, and he clad him with it, and went with him to his abode and his associates. And when the young man entered, he found it to be a high mansion, with lofty angles, ample, with chambers facing one another, and saloons; and in each saloon was a fountain of water, and birds were warbling over it, and there were windows overlooking, on every side, a beautiful garden within the mansion. The sheykh conducted him into one of the chambers, and he found it decorated with coloured marbles, and its ceiling ornamented with blue and brilliant gold, and it was spread with carpets of silk; and he found in it ten sheykhs sitting facing one another, wearing the garments of mourning, weeping, and wailing. So the young man wondered at their case, and was about to question the sheykh who had brought him, but he remembered the condition, and therefore withheld his tongue. Then the sheykh committed to the young man a chest, containing thirty thousand pieces of gold, saying to him, “O my son, expend upon us out of this chest, and upon thyself, according to what is just, and be thou faithful, and take care of that wherewith I have intrusted thee.” And the young man replied, “I hear and obey.” He continued to expend upon them for a period of days and nights, after which one of them died; whereupon his companions took him, and washed him and shrouded him, and buried him in a garden behind the mansion. And deathceased not to take of them one after another, until there remained only the sheykh who had hired the young man. So he remained with the young man in that mansion, and there was not with them a third; and they remained thus for a period of years. Then the sheykh fell sick; and when the young man despaired of his life, he addressed him with courtesy, and was grieved for him, and said to him, “O uncle, I have served you, and not failed in your service one hour for a period of twelve years, but have acted faithfully to you, and served you according to my power and ability.” The sheykh replied, “Yes, O my son, thou hast served us until these sheykhs have been taken unto God (to whom be ascribed might and glory!), and we must inevitably die.” And the young man said, “O my master, thou art in a state of peril, and I desire of thee that thou inform me what hath been the cause of your weeping, and the continuance of your wailing and your mourning and your sorrow.” He replied, “O my son, thou hast no concern with that, and require me not to do what I am unable; for I have begged God (whose name be exalted!) not to afflict any one with my affliction. Now if thou desire to be safe from that into which we have fallen, open not that door,” and he pointed to it with his hand, and cautioned him against it; “and if thou desire that what hath befallen us should befall thee, open it, and thou wilt know the cause of that which thouhast beheld in our conduct; but thou wilt repent, when repentance will not avail thee.” Then the illness increased upon the sheykh, and he died; and the young man washed him with his own hands, and shrouded him, and buried him by his companions.
He remained in that place, possessing it and all the treasure; but notwithstanding this, he was uneasy, reflecting upon the conduct of the sheykhs. And while he was meditating one day upon the words of the sheykh, and his charge to him not to open the door, it occurred to his mind that he might look at it. So he went in that direction, and searched until he saw an elegant door, over which the spider had woven its webs, and upon it were four locks of steel. When he beheld it, he remembered how the sheykh had cautioned him, and he departed from it. His soul desired him to open the door, and he restrained it during a period of seven days; but on the eighth day his soul overcame him, and he said, “I must open that door, and see what will happen to me in consequence; for nothing will repel what God (whose name be exalted!) decreeth and predestineth, and no event will happen but by His will.” Accordingly he arose and opened the door, after he had broken the locks. And when he had opened the door he saw a narrow passage, along which he walked for the space of three hours; and lo! he came forth upon the bankof a great river. At this the young man wondered. And he walked along the bank, looking to the right and left; and behold! a great eagle descended from the sky, and taking up the young man with its talons, it flew with him, between heaven and earth, until it conveyed him to an island in the midst of the sea. There it threw him down, and departed from him.
So the young man was perplexed at his case, not knowing whither to go; but while he was sitting one day, lo! the sail of a vessel appeared to him upon the sea, like the star in the sky; wherefore the heart of the young man became intent upon the vessel, in the hope that his escape might be effected in it. He continued looking at it until it came near unto him; and when it arrived, he beheld a bark of ivory and ebony, the oars of which were of sandal-wood and aloes-wood, and the whole of it was encased with plates of brilliant gold. There were also in it ten damsels, virgins, like moons. When the damsels saw him, they landed to him from the bark, and kissed his hands, saying to him, “Thou art the king, the bridegroom.” Then there advanced to him a damsel who was like the shining sun in the clear sky, having in her hand a kerchief of silk, in which were a royal robe, and a crown of gold set with varieties of jacinths. Having advanced to him, she clad him and crowned him; after which the damsels carried him in their armsto the bark, and he found in it varieties of carpets of silk of divers colours. They then spread the sails, and proceeded over the depths of the sea.
“Now when I proceeded with them,” says the young man, “I felt sure that this was a dream, and knew not whither they were going with me. And when they came in sight of the land, I beheld it filled with troops, the number of which none knew but God (whose perfection be extolled, and whose name be exalted!) clad in coats of mail. They brought forward to me five marked horses, with saddles of gold, set with varieties of pearls and precious stones; and I took a horse from among these and mounted it. The four others proceeded with me; and when I mounted, the ensigns and banners were set up over my head, the drums and the cymbals were beaten, and the troops disposed themselves in two divisions, right and left. I wavered in opinion as to whether I were asleep or awake, and ceased not to advance, not believing in the reality of my stately procession, but imagining that it was the result of confused dreams, until we came in sight of a verdant meadow, in which were palaces and gardens, and trees and rivers and flowers, and birds proclaiming the perfection of God, the One, the Omnipotent. And now there came forth an army from among those palaces and gardens, like the torrent when it poureth down, until it filled the meadow. When the troops drewnear to me, they hailed, and lo! a king advanced from among them, riding alone, preceded by some of his chief officers walking.”
The king, on approaching the young man, alighted from his courser; and the young man, seeing him do so, alighted also; and they saluted each other with the most courteous salutation. Then they mounted their horses again, and the king said to the young man, “Accompany us; for thou art my guest.” So the young man proceeded with him, and they conversed together, while the stately trains in orderly disposition went on before them to the palace of the king, where they alighted, and all of them entered, together with the king and the young man, the young man’s hand being in the hand of the king, who thereupon seated him on the throne of gold and seated himself beside him. When the king removed the litham from his face, lo! this supposed king was a damsel, like the shining sun in the clear sky, a lady of beauty and loveliness, and elegance and perfection, and conceit and amorous dissimulation. The young man beheld vast affluence and great prosperity, and wondered at the beauty and loveliness of the damsel. Then the damsel said to him, “Know, O king, that I am the queen of this land, and all these troops that thou hast seen, including every one, whether of cavalry or infantry, are women. There are not among them any men. The men among us, in this land, till and sow andreap, employing themselves in the cultivation of the land, and the building and repairing of the towns, and in attending to the affairs of the people, by the pursuit of every kind of art and trade; but as to the women, they are the governors and magistrates and soldiers.” And the young man wondered at this extremely. And while they were thus conversing, the vizier entered; and lo! she was a grey-haired old woman, having a numerous retinue, of venerable and dignified appearance; and the queen said to her, “Bring to us the Kádee and the witnesses.” So the old woman went for that purpose. And the queen turned towards the young man, conversing with him and cheering him, and dispelling his fear by kind words; and, addressing him courteously, she said to him, “Art thou content for me to be thy wife?” And thereupon he arose and kissed the ground before her; but she forbade him; and he replied, “O my mistress, I am less than the servants who serve thee.” She then said to him, “Seest thou not these servants and soldiers and wealth and treasures and hoards?” He answered her, “Yes.” And she said to him, “All these are at thy disposal; thou shalt make use of them, and give and bestow as seemeth fit to thee.” Then she pointed to a closed door, and said to him, “All these things thou shalt dispose of; but this door thou shalt not open; for if thou open it, thou wilt repent, when repentance will not avail thee.” Her words were notended when the vizier, with the Kádee and the witnesses, entered, and all of them were old women, with their hair spreading over their shoulders, and of venerable and dignified appearance. When they came before the queen, she ordered them to perform the ceremony of the marriage-contract. So they married her to the young man. And she prepared the banquets and collected the troops; and when they had eaten and drunk, the young man took her as his wife. And he resided with her seven years, passing the most delightful, comfortable, and agreeable life.
But he meditated one day upon opening the door, and said, “Were it not that there are within it great treasures, better than what I have seen, she had not prohibited me from opening it.” He then arose and opened the door, and lo! within it was the bird that had carried him from the shore of the great river, and deposited him upon the island. When the bird beheld him, it said to him, “No welcome to a face that will never be happy!” So, when he saw it and heard its words, he fled from it; but it followed him and carried him off, and flew with him between heaven and earth for the space of an hour, and at length deposited him in the place from which it had carried him away; after which it disappeared. He thereupon sat in that place, and, returning to his reason, he reflected upon what he had seen of affluence and glory and honour, and theriding of the troops before him, and commanding and forbidding; and he wept and wailed. He remained upon the shore of the great river, where that bird had put him, for the space of two months, wishing that he might return to his wife; but while he was one night awake, mourning and meditating, some one spoke (and he heard his voice, but saw not his person), calling out, “How great were the delights! Far, far from thee is the return of what is passed! And how many therefore will be the sighs!” So when the young man heard it, he despaired of meeting again that queen, and of the return to him of the affluence in which he had been living. He then entered the mansion where the sheykhs had resided, and knew that they had experienced the like of that which had happened unto him, and that this was the cause of their weeping and their mourning; wherefore he excused them. Grief and anxiety came upon the young man, and he entered his chamber, and ceased not to weep and moan, relinquishing food and drink and pleasant scents and laughter, until he died; and he was buried by the side of the sheykhs.
A fox and a wolf inhabited the same den, resorting thither together, and thus they remained a long time. But the wolf oppressed the fox; and it so happened that the fox counselled the wolf to assume benignity, and to abandon wickedness, saying to him, “If thou persevere in thine arrogance, probably God will give power over thee to a son of Adam; for he is possessed of stratagems, and artifice, and guile; he captureth the birds from the sky, and the fish from the sea, and cutteth the mountains and transporteth them; and all this he accomplisheth through his stratagems. Betake thyself, therefore, to the practice of equity, and relinquish evil and oppression; for it will be more pleasant to thy taste.” The wolf, however, received not his advice; on the contrary, he returned him a rough reply, saying to him, “Thou hast no right to speak on matters of magnitude and importance.” He then gave the fox such a blow that he fell down senseless; and when he recovered, he smiled in the wolf’s face,apologising for his shameful words, and recited these two verses:—