Rollánd now feels his death is drawing nigh:From both his ears the brain is oozing fast.For all his peers he prays that God may callTheir souls to him; to the Angel GabrielHe recommends his spirit. In one handHe takes the olifant, that no reproachMay rest upon him; in the other graspsDurendal, his good sword. Forward he goes,Far as an arblast sends a shaft, acrossA new-tilled ground and toward the land of Spain.Upon a hill, beneath two lofty trees,Four terraces of marble spread;—he fallsProne fainting on the green, for death draws near.Aoi.High are the mounts, and lofty are the trees.Four terraces are there, of marble bright:There Count Rollánd lies senseless on the grass.Him at this moment spies a SaracenWho lies among the corpses, feigning death,His face and body all besmeared with blood.Sudden he rises to his feet, and boundsUpon the baron. Handsome, brave, and strongHe was, but from his pride sprang mortal rage.He seized the body of Rollánd, and graspedHis arms, exclaiming thus: "Here vanquished Carle'sGreat nephew lies! This sword to ArabyI'll bear." He drew it; this aroused the count.Aoi.Rollánd perceived an alien hand would robHim of his sword; his eyes he oped; one wordHe spoke: "I trow, not one of us art thou!"Then with his olifant from which he partsNever, he smites the golden studded helm,Crushing the steel, the head, the bones; both eyesAre from their sockets beaten out—o'erthrownDead at the baron's feet he falls;—"O wretch,"He cries, "how durst thou, or for good or ill,Lay hands upon Rollánd? Who hears of thisWill call thee fool. Mine olifant is cleft,Its gems and gold all scattered by the blow."Aoi.Now feels Rollánd that death is near at handAnd struggles up with all his force; his faceGrows livid; Durendal, his naked sword,He holds; beside him rises a gray rockOn which he strikes ten mighty blows through griefAnd rage. The steel but grinds; it breaks not, norIs notched; then cried the count: "Saint Mary, help!O Durendal! Good sword! ill starred art thou!Though we two part, I care not less for thee.What victories together thou and IHave gained, what kingdoms conquered, which now holdsWhite-bearded Carle! No coward's hand shall graspThy hilt: a valiant knight has borne thee long,Such as none shall e'er bear in France the Free!"Aoi.Rollánd smites hard the rock of Sardonix;The steel but grinds, it breaks not, nor grows blunt;Then seeing that he cannot break his sword,Thus to himself he mourns for Durendal:"O good my sword, how bright and pure! AgainstThe sun what flashing light thy blade reflects!When Carle passed through the valley of Moriane,The God of Heaven by his Angel sentCommand that he should give thee to a count,A valiant captain; it was then the greatAnd gentle king did gird thee to my side.With thee I won for him Anjou—Bretaigne;For him with thee I won Poitou, le MaineAnd Normandie the free; I won ProvenceAnd Aquitaine, and Lumbardie, and allThe Romanie; I won for him Baviere,All Flandre—Buguerie—all Puillanie,Costentinnoble which allegiance paid,And Saxonie submitted to his power;For him I won Escoce and Galle, Irlande,And Engleterre he made his royal seat;With thee I conquered all the lands and realmsWhich Carle, the hoary-bearded monarch, rules.Now for this sword I mourn. . . . Far better dieThan in the hands of pagans let it fall!May God, Our Father, save sweet France this shame!"Aoi.Upon the gray rock mightily he smites,Shattering it more than I can tell; the swordBut grinds. It breaks not—nor receives a notch,And upward springs more dazzling in the air.When sees the Count Rollánd his sword can never break,Softly within himself its fate he mourns:"O Durendal, how fair and holy thou!In thy gold-hilt are relics rare; a toothOf great Saint Pierre—some blood of Saint Basile,A lock of hair of Monseigneur Saint Denis,A fragment of the robe of Sainte-Marie.It is not right that pagans should own thee;By Christian hand alone be held. Vast realmsI shall have conquered once that now are ruledBy Carle, the king with beard all blossom-white,And by them made great emperor and lord.May thou ne'er fall into a cowardly hand."Aoi.The Count Rollánd feels through his limbs the graspOf death, and from his head ev'n to his heartA mortal chill descends. Unto a pineHe hastens, and falls stretched upon the grass.Beneath him lie his sword and olifant,And toward the Heathen land he turns his head,That Carle and all his knightly host may say:"The gentle count a conqueror has died. . . ."Then asking pardon for his sins, or greatOr small, he offers up his glove to God.Aoi.The Count Rollánd feels now his end approach.Against a pointed rock, and facing Spain,He lies. Three times he beats his breast, and says:"Mea culpa! Oh, my God, may through thy grace,Be pardoned all my sins, or great or small,Until this hour committed since my birth!"Then his right glove he offers up to God,And toward him angels from high Heav'n descend.Aoi.Beneath a pine Rollánd doth lie, and looksToward Spain. He broods on many things of yore:On all the lands he conquered, on sweet France,On all his kinsmen, on great Carle his lordWho nurtured him;—he sighs, nor can restrainHis tears, but cannot yet himself forget;Recalls his sins, and for the grace of GodHe prays: "Our Father, never yet untrue,Who Saint-Lazare raised from the dead, and savedThy Daniel from the lions' claws,—oh, freeMy soul from peril, from my whole life's sins!"His right hand glove he offered up to God;Saint Gabriel took the glove.—With head reclinedUpon his arm, with hands devoutly joinedHe breathed his last. God sent his cherubim,Saint-Raphael,Saint Michiel del Peril.Together with them Gabriel came. All bringThe soul of Count Rollánd to Paradise.Aoi.Rabillon's Translation
The monarchs of ancient Persia made several attempts to collect the historic annals of their country, but both people and traditions were scattered by the Arabian conquest. The manuscript annals were carried to Abyssinia, thence to India, and were taken back to Persia just when the weakness of the conquerors was beginning to show itself. The various members of the Persian line, who had declared themselves independent of their conquerors, determined to rouse the patriotism of their countrymen by the recital of the stirring deeds of the warriors of old Persia.
The fame of Abul Kasin Mansur, born at Thus, in Khorasan, A. D. 920, reached Mahmoud of Ghaznin, who was searching for a poet to re-cast the annals of Persia. He called the poet to his court, and, on hearing him improvise, called him Firdusi (the paradisiacal). The poet was intrusted with the preparation of the Shah-Nameh, or Epic of Kings, for every one thousand distichs of which he was to receive a thousand pieces of gold. It had been the dream of the poet's life to build a bridge and otherwise improve his native town. He therefore asked that the payment be deferred until the completion of his work, that he might apply the entire sum to these improvements. But when the poem was completed, after thirty years' labor, the king, instigated by the slanders of the jealous prime minister, sent to the poet sixty thousand silver instead of gold dirhems. The enraged poet threw the silver to his attendants and fled from the country, leaving behind him an insulting poem to the sultan. He spent the remainder of his life at Mazinderan and Bagdad, where he was received with honor, and in his old age returned to Thus to die. Tradition relates that Mahmoud at last discovered the villainy of his minister, and sent the gold to Thus. But the old poet was dead, and his daughter indignantly refused the money. Mahmoud then applied the sum to the improvements of the town so long desired by Firdusi.
The Shah-Nameh is written in the pure old Persian, that Mohammed declared would be the language of Paradise. In its sixty thousand couplets are related the deeds of the Persian kings from the foundation of the world to the invasion by the Mohammedans; but it is of very little value as a historical record, the facts it purports to relate being almost lost among the Oriental exaggerations of the deeds of its heroes.
The only complete translation in a foreign language is the elaborate French translation of Julius Mohl.
The Shah-Nameh is still popular in Persia, where it is said that even the camel drivers are able to repeat long portions of it. Firdusi is sometimes called the Homer of the East, because he describes rude heroic times and men, as did Homer; but he is also compared to Ariosto, because of his wealth of imagery. His heroes are very different from those to whom we have been wont to pay our allegiance; but they fight for the same principles and worship as lovely maids, to judge from the hyperbole employed in their description. The condensation of the Shah-Nameh reads like a dry chronicle; but in its entirety it reminds one of nothing so much as a gorgeous Persian web, so light and varied, so brightened is it by its wealth of episode.
Samuel Johnson's The Shah-Nameh, or Book of Kings (in his Oriental Religion, Persia, 1885, pp. 711-782);
E. B. Cowell's Persian Literature, Firdusi (in Oxford Essays, 1885, pp. 164-166);
Elizabeth A. Reed's Persian Literature, Ancient and Modern, 1893, pp. 214-283.
The Shah-Nameh, Tr. and abridged in prose and verse with notes and illustrations, by James Atkinson, 1832;
Abbreviated version taken from a Persian abridgment, half prose, half verse; The Epic of Kings, Stories re-told from Firdusi, by Helen Zimmern, 1882.
Kaiumers was the first King of Persia, and against him Ahriman, the evil, through jealousy of his greatness, sent forth a mighty Deev to conquer him. By this Deev, Saiamuk, the son of Kaiumers, was slain, and the king himself died of grief at the loss of his son.
Husheng, his grandson, who succeeded Kaiumers, was a great and wise king, who gave fire to his people, taught them irrigation, instructed them how to till and sow, and gave names to the beasts. His son and successor, Tahumers, taught his people the arts of spinning, weaving, and writing, and when he died left his throne to his son Jemschid.
Jemschid was a mighty monarch, who divided men into classes, and the years into periods, and builded mighty walls and cities; but his heart grew proud at the thought of his power, and he was driven away from his land by his people, who called Zohak to the throne of Iran.
Zohak, who came from the deserts of Arabia, was a good and wise young man who had fallen into the power of a Deev. This Deev, in the guise of a skillful servant, asked permission one day to kiss his monarch between the shoulders, as a reward for an unusually fine bit of cookery. From the spot he kissed sprang two black serpents, whose only nourishment was the brains of the king's subjects.
The serpent king, as Zohak was now called, was much feared by his subjects, who saw their numbers daily lessen by the demands of the serpents. But when the children of the blacksmith Kawah were demanded as food for the serpents, the blacksmith defied Zohak, and raising his leathern apron as a standard,—a banner ever since honored in Persia,—he called the people to him, and set off in search of Feridoun, an heir of Jemschid. Under the young leader the oppressed people defeated the tyrant, and placed Feridoun on the throne.
Feridoun had three sons, Irij, Tur, and Silim. Having tested their bravery, he divided the kingdom among them, giving to Irij the kingdom of Iran. Although the other brothers had received equal shares of the kingdom, they were enraged because Iran was not their portion, and when their complaints to their father were not heeded, they slew their brother. Irij left a son, a babe named Minuchihr, who was reared carefully by Feridoun. In time he avenged his father, by defeating the armies of his uncles and slaying them both. Soon after this, Feridoun died, intrusting his grandson to Saum, his favorite pehliva, or vassal, who ruled over Seistan.
Saum was a childless monarch, and when at last a son was born to him he was very happy until he learned that while the child was perfect in every other way, it had the silver hair of an old man. Fearing the talk of his enemies, Saum exposed the child on a mountain top to die. There it was found by the Simurgh, a remarkable animal, part bird, part human, that, touched by the cries of the helpless infant, carried him to her great nest of aloes and sandal-wood, and reared him with her little ones.
Saum, who had lived to regret his foolish and wicked act, was told in a dream that his son still lived, and was being cared for by the Simurgh. He accordingly sought the nest, and carried his son away with great thanksgiving. The Simurgh parted tenderly with the little Zal, and presented him with a feather from her wing, telling him that whenever he was in danger, he had only to throw it on the fire and she would instantly come to his aid.
Saum first presented his son at the court of Minuchihr, and then took him home to Zaboulistan, where he was carefully instructed in every art and science.
At one time, while his father was invading a neighboring province, Zal travelled over the kingdom and stopped at the court of Mihrab, a tributary of Saum, who ruled at Kabul. Though a descendant of the serpent king, Mihrab was good, just, and wise, and he received the young warrior with hospitality. Zal had not been long in Kabul before he heard of the beauties of Rudabeh, the daughter of Mihrab, and she, in turn, of the great exploits of Zal. By an artifice of the princess they met and vowed to love one another forever, though they knew their love would meet with opposition. Saum and Zal both pleaded Zal's cause before Minuchihr, who relented when he heard from the astrologers that a good and mighty warrior would come of the union. Rudabeh's mother won the consent of Mihrab, so that the young people were soon married with great pomp. To them a son was born named Rustem, who, when one day old, was as large as a year-old child. When three years old he could ride a horse, and at eight years was as powerful as any hero of the time.
Nauder succeeded the good Minuchihr, and under him Persia was defeated by the Turanians, and Afrasiyab occupied the Persian throne. But Zal, whose father, Saum, had died, overthrew him and placed Zew upon the throne. Zew's reign was short, and Garshasp, his son, succeeded him. When he was threatened by the Turanians, his people went for aid to Zal, who, because he was growing old, referred them to Rustem, yet of tender age. Rustem responded gladly, and his father commanded that all the horses from Zaboulistan to Kabul be brought forth that his son might select a steed therefrom. Every horse bent beneath his grasp until he came to the colt Rakush, which responded to Rustem's voice, and suffered him to mount it. From that day to his death, this steed was his faithful companion and preserver.
Garshasp was too weak to rule over the kingdom, and Zal despatched Rustem to Mt. Alberz, where he had been told in a dream a youth dwelt called Kai-Kobad, descended from Feridoun. Kai-Kobad welcomed Rustem, and the two, with the noblest of the kingdom, defeated the power of Turan.
After a reign of a hundred years, the wise Kai-Kobad died, and was succeeded by his son, the foolish Kai-Kaus, who, not satisfied with the wealth and extent of his kingdom, determined to conquer the kingdom of Mazinderan, ruled by the Deevs. Zal's remonstrances were of no avail: the headstrong Kai-Kaus marched into Mazinderan, and, together with his whole army, was conquered, imprisoned, and blinded by the power of the White Deev.
When the news of the monarch's misfortune came to Iran, Rustem immediately saddled Rakush, and, choosing the shortest and most peril-beset route, set forth, unaccompanied, for Mazinderan. If he survived the dangers that lurked by the way, he would reach Mazinderan in seven days.
While sleeping in a forest, after his first day's journey, he was saved from a fierce lion by Rakush, who stood at his head.
On the second day, just as he believed himself perishing of thirst, he was saved by a sheep that he followed to a fountain of water; on the third night, Rakush, whom he had angrily forbidden to attack any animal without waking him, twice warned him of the approach of a dragon. The first time the dragon disappeared when Rustem awoke, and he spoke severely to his faithful horse. The second time he slew the dragon, and morning having dawned, proceeded through a desert, where he was offered food and wine by a sorceress. Not recognizing her, and grateful for the food, he offered her a cup of wine in the name of God, and she was immediately converted into a black fiend, whom he slew.
He was next opposed by Aulad, whom he defeated, and promised to make ruler of Mazinderan if he would guide him to the caves of the White Deev. A stony desert and a wide stream lay between him and the demon; but the undaunted Rustem passed over them, and choosing the middle of the day, at which time Aulad told him the Deevs slept, he slew the guards, entered the cavern, and after a terrible struggle, overcame and slew the great Deev.
He then released Kai-Kaus and his army, and restored their sight by touching their eyes with the blood from the Deev's heart.
Kai-Kaus, not satisfied with this adventure, committed many other follies, from which it taxed his warrior sorely to rescue him.
Once he was imprisoned by the King of Hamaveran after he had espoused his daughter; again he followed the advice of a wicked Deev, and tried to search the heavens in a flying-machine, that descended and left him in a desert waste. It was only after this last humiliation that he humbled himself, lay in the dust many days, and at last became worthy of the throne of his fathers.
At one time Rustem was hunting near the borders of Turan, and, falling asleep, left Rakush to graze in the forest, where he was espied by the men of Turan and at once captured. When Rustem awoke he followed his steed by the traces of its hoofs, until he came to the city of Samengan. The king received him kindly, and promised to restore the horse if it could be found. While his messengers went in search of it, he feasted his guest, and led him for the night to a perfumed couch.
In the middle of the night Rustem awoke, to see a beautiful young woman enter the room, accompanied by a maid. She proved to be the princess, who had fallen in love with Rustem. She pleaded with him to return her love, promising, if he did so, to restore his cherished horse. Rustem longed for his steed; moreover, the maiden was irresistibly beautiful. He accordingly yielded to her proposals, and the two were wedded the next day, the king having given his consent.
After tarrying some time in Samengan, Rustem was forced to return to Iran. Bidding his bride an affectionate farewell, he presented her with a bracelet.
"If thou art given a daughter, place this amulet in her hair to guard her from harm. If a son, bind it on his arm, that he may possess the valor of Nariman."
In the course of time, the princess bore a boy, who was like his father in beauty and boldness, whom she christened Sohrab. But for fear that she would be deprived of him, she wrote to Rustem that a daughter had been born to her. To her son she declared the secret of his birth, and urged him to be like his father in all things; but she warned him not to disclose the secret, for she feared that if it came to the ears of Afrasiyab, he would destroy him because of his hatred of Rustem.
Sohrab, who had already cherished dreams of conquest, was elated at the knowledge of his parentage. "Mother," exclaimed he, "I shall gather an army of Turks, conquer Iran, dethrone Kai-Kaus, and place my father on the throne; then both of us will conquer Afrasiyab, and I will mount the throne of Turan."
The mother, pleased with her son's valor, gave him for a horse a foal sprung from Rakush, and fondly watched his preparations for war.
The wicked Afrasiyab well knew that Sohrab was the son of Rustem. He was also aware that it was very dangerous to have two such mighty warriors alive, since if they became known to each other, they would form an alliance. He planned, therefore, to aid Sohrab in the war, keeping him in ignorance of his father, and to manage in some way to have the two meet in battle, that one or both might be slain.
The armies met and the great battle began. Sohrab asked to have Rustem pointed out to him, but the soldiers on his side were all instructed to keep him in ignorance. By some strange mischance the two men whom his mother had sent to enlighten him, were both slain. Rustem was moved at the sight of the brave young warrior, but remembering that Tahmineh's offspring was a daughter, thought nothing more of the thrill he felt at sight of him. At last Sohrab and Rustem met in single combat. Sohrab was moved with tenderness for his unknown opponent, and besought him to tell him if he was Rustem, but Rustem declared that he was only a servant of that chief. For three days they fought bitterly, and on the fourth day Rustem overthrew his son. When Sohrab felt that the end had come he threatened his unknown opponent. "Whoever thou art, know that I came not out for empty glory but to find my father, and that though I have found him not, when he hears that thou hast slain his son he will search thee out and avenge me, no matter where thou hidest thyself. For my father is the great Rustem."
Rustem fell down in agony when he heard his son's words, and realized that his guile had prevented him from being made known the day before. He examined the onyx bracelet on Sohrab's arm; it was the same he had given Tahmineh. Bethinking himself of a magic ointment possessed by Kai-Kaus, he sent for it that he might heal his dying son; but the foolish king, jealous of his prowess, refused to send it, and Sohrab expired in the arms of his father.
Rustem's heart was broken. He heaped up his armor, his tent, his trappings, his treasures, and flung them into a great fire. The house of Zal was filled with mourning, and when the news was conveyed to Samengan, he tore his garments, and his daughter grieved herself to death before a year had passed away.
To Kai-Kaus and a wife of the race of Feridoun was born a son called Saiawush, who was beautiful, noble, and virtuous. But his foolish father allowed himself to be prejudiced against the youth by slanderous tongues, so that Saiawush fled from the court and sought shelter with Afrasiyab in Turan. There he speedily became popular, and took unto himself for a wife the daughter of Afrasiyab. But when he and Ferandis his wife built a beautiful city, the hatred and jealousy of Gersiwaz was aroused, so that he lied to Afrasiyab and said that Saiawush was puffed up with pride, and at last induced Afrasiyab to slay his son-in-law.
Saiawush had a son, Kai-Khosrau, who was saved by Piran, a kind-hearted nobleman, and given into the care of a goatherd. When Afrasiyab learned of his existence he summoned him to his presence, but the youth, instructed by Piran, assumed the manners of an imbecile, and was accordingly freed by Afrasiyab, who feared no harm from him.
When the news of the death of Saiawush was conveyed to Iran there was great mourning, and war was immediately declared against Turan. For seven years the contest was carried on, always without success, and at the end of that time Gudarz dreamed that a son of Saiawush was living called Kai-Khosrau, and that until he was sought out and placed at the head of the army, deliverance could not come to Iran. Kai-Khosrau was discovered, and led the armies on to victory; and when Kai-Kaus found that his grandson was not only a great warrior, skilled in magic, but also possessed wisdom beyond his years, he resigned the throne and made Kai-Khosrau ruler over Iran.
Kai-Khosrau ruled many long years, in which time he brought peace and happiness to his kingdom, avenged the murder of his father, and compassed the death of the wicked Afrasiyab. Then, fearing that he might become puffed up with pride like Jemschid, he longed to depart from this world, and prayed Ormuzd to take him to his bosom.
The king; after many prayers to Ormuzd, dreamed that his wish would be granted if he set the affairs of his kingdom in order and appointed his successor. Rejoiced, he called his nobles together, divided his treasure among them, and appointed his successor, Lohurasp, whom he commanded to be the woof and warp of justice. Accompanied by a few of his faithful friends, he set out on the long journey to the crest of the mountains. At his entreaties, some of his friends turned back; those who stayed over night, in spite of his warnings, found on waking that they were covered by a heavy fall of snow, and were soon frozen. Afterwards their bodies were found and received a royal burial.
Lohurasp had a son Gushtasp who greatly desired to rule, and was a just monarch, when he succeeded to the throne. Gushtasp, however, was jealous of his son, Isfendiyar, who was a great warrior. When Gushtasp was about to be overcome by the forces of Turan, he promised Isfendiyar the throne, if he would destroy the enemy; but when the hosts were scattered, and Isfendiyar reminded his father of his promise, he was cast into a dungeon, there to remain until his services were again needed. When he had again gained a victory, he was told that the throne should be his when he had rescued his sisters from the brazen fortress of Arjasp, where they had been carried and imprisoned.
On his way to this tower Isfendiyar met with as many terrible foes as Rustem had encountered on his way to the White Deev, and as successfully overcame them. Wolves, lions, enchantresses, and dragons barred the way to the impregnable fortress, which rose three farsangs high and forty wide, and was constructed entirely of brass and iron. But Isfendiyar, assuming the guise of a merchant and concealing his warriors in chests, won his way into the castle, gained the favor of its inmates, and made them drunk with wine. This done, he freed his sisters, slew the guards, and struck down Arjasp.
Instead of keeping his promise, Gushtasp hastened to set his son another task. Rustem was his Pehliva, but it pleased him to send forth Isfendiyar against him, commanding him to bring home the mighty warrior in chains. Isfendiyar pleaded in vain with his father. Then he explained the situation to Rustem, and begged that he would accompany him home in peace to gratify his father. Rustem refused to go in chains, so the two heroes reluctantly began the hardest battle of their lives.
At the end of the first day, Rustem and Rakush were severely wounded, and on his return home Rustem happened to think of the Simurgh. Called by the burning of the feather, the kind bird healed the wounds of the hero and of Rakush, and instructed Rustem how to slay his foe. "Seek thou the tamarisk tree, and make thereof an arrow. Aim at his eye, and there thou canst blind and slay him."
Rustem followed the directions, and laid low the gallant youth. Isfendiyar died exclaiming, "My father has slain me, not thou, Rustem. I die, the victim of my father's hate; do thou keep for me and rear my son!"
Rustem, who had lived so long and accomplished such great deeds, died at last by the hand of his half-brother. This brother, Shugdad, stirred up the king of Kabul, in whose court he was reared, to slay Rustem because he exacted tribute from Kabul.
Rustem was called into Kabul by Shugdad, who claimed that the king mistreated him. When he arrived, the matter was settled amicably, and the brothers set out for a hunt with the king. The hunters were led to a spot where the false king had caused pits to be dug lined with sharp weapons. Rustem, pleased with his kind reception and suspecting no harm, beat Rakush severely when he paused and would go no further. Stung by the blows, the gallant horse sprang forward, and fell into the pit. As he rose from this, he fell into another, until, clambering from the seventh pit, he and Rustem fell swooning with pain.
"False brother!" cried Rustem; "what hast thou done? Was it for thee to slay thy father's son? Exult now; but thou wilt yet suffer for this crime!" Then altering his tone, he said gently: "But give me, I pray thee, my bow and arrows, that I may have it by my side to slay any wild beast that may try to devour me."
Shugdad gave him the bow; and when he saw the gleam in Rustem's eyes, concealed himself behind a tree. But the angry Rustem, grasping the bow with something of his former strength, sent the arrow through tree and man, transfixing both. Then thanking his Creator that he had been given the opportunity to slay his murderer, he breathed his last.
"This account of the game of chess, written by Ferdusi more than eight hundred years ago, is curious as showing the antiquity of the game, its resemblance to it as now played, and the tradition that it was invented in India, and came originally from that country."
A Mubid related, how one day the kingSuspended his crown over the ivory throne,All aloes-wood and ivory, and all ivory and aloes;Every pavilion a court, and every court a royal one;All the Hall of Audience crowned with soldiers;Every pavilion filled with Mubids and Wardens of the Marches,From Balkh, and Bokhara, and from every frontier—For the King of the world had received advicesFrom his vigilant and active emissaries,That an Ambassador had arrived from a King of India,With the parasol, and elephants, and cavalry of Sind,And, accompanied by a thousand laden camels,Was on his way to visit the Great King.When the circumspect Monarch heard this news,Immediately he despatched an escort to receive him.And when the illustrious and dignified AmbassadorCame into the presence of the Great King,According to the manner of the great, he pronounced a benediction,And uttered the praise of the Creator of the world.Then he scattered before him abundance of jewels,And presented the parasol, the elephants, and the ear-rings;The Indian parasol embroidered with gold,And inwoven with all kinds of precious stones.Then he opened the packages in the midst of the court,And displayed each one, article by article, before the King.Within the chest was much silver, and gold,And musk, and amber, and fresh wood of aloes,Of rubies, and diamonds, and Indian swords.Each Indian sword was beautifully damascened;Everything which is produced in Kanuj and MaiHand and foot were busy to put in its place.They placed the whole together in front of the throne,And the Chief, the favored of wakeful Fortune,Surveyed all that the Raja had painstakingly collected,And then commanded that it should be sent to his treasury.Then the Ambassador presented, written on silk,The letter which the Raja had addressed to Nushirvan;And a chessboard, wrought with such exceeding labor,That the pains bestowed upon it might have emptied a treasury.And the Indian delivered a message from the Raja:"So long as the heavens revolve, may thou be established in thy place!All who have taken pains to excel in knowledge,Command to place this chessboard before them,And to exert their utmost ingenuityTo discover the secret of this noble game.Let them learn the name of every piece.Its proper position, and what is its movement.Let them make out the foot-soldier of the army,The elephant, the rook, and the horseman,The march of the vizier and the procession of the King.If they discover the science of this noble game,They will have surpassed the most able in science.Then the tribute and taxes which the King hath demandedI will cheerfully send all to his court.But if the congregated sages, men of Iran,Should prove themselves completely at fault in this science,Then, since they are not strong enough to compete with us in knowledge,Neither should they desire taxes or tribute from this land and country:Rather ought we to receive tribute from you,Since knowledge hath a title beyond all else."Khosru gave heart and ear to the speaker,And impressed on his memory the words which he heard.They placed the chessboard before the King,Who gazed attentively at the pieces a considerable time.Half the pieces on the board were of brilliant ivory,The other half of finely imaged teak-wood.The nicely-observant King questioned him muchAbout the figures of the pieces and the beautiful board.The Indian said in answer: "O thou great Monarch,All the modes and customs of war thou wilt see,When thou shalt have found out the way to the game;The plans, the marches, the array of the battle-field."He replied: "I shall require the space of seven days;On the eighth we will encounter thee with a glad mind."They furnished forthwith a pleasant apartment,And assigned it to the Ambassador as his dwelling.Then the Mubid and the skilful to point out the wayRepaired with one purpose to the presence of the King.They placed the chessboard before them,And observed it attentively, time without measure.They sought out and tried every method,And played against one another in all possible ways.One spoke and questioned, and another listened,But no one succeeded in making out the game.They departed, each one with wrinkles on his brow;And Buzarchamahar went forthwith to the king.He perceived that he was ruffled and stern about this matter,And in its beginning foresaw an evil ending.Then he said to Khosru: "O Sovereign,Master of the world, vigilant, and worthy to command,I will reduce to practice this noble game;All my intelligence will I exert to point out the way."Then the king said: "This affair is thine affair;Go thou about it with a clear mind and a sound body,Otherwise the Raja of Kanuj would say,'He hath not one man who can search out the road,'And this would bring foul disgrace on my Mubids,On my court, on my throne, and on all my wise men."Then Buzarchmahar made them place the chessboard before him,And seated himself, full of thought, and expanded his countenance.He sought out various ways, and moved the pieces to the right hand andto the left,In order that he might discover the position of every piece.When after a whole day and a whole night, he had found out the game,He hurried from his own pavilion to that of the King,And exclaimed: "O King, whom Fortune crowneth with victory,At last I have made out these figures and this chessboard,By a happy chance, and by the favor of the Ruler of the world,The mystery of this game hath found its solution.Call before thee the Ambassador and all who care about it;But the King of kings ought to be the first to behold it.You would say at once without hesitation,It is the exact image of a battle-field."The King was right glad to hear the news;He pronounced him the Fortunate, and the bearer of good tidings.He commanded that the Mubids, and other counsellors,And all who were renowned for their wisdom should be assembled;And ordered that the Ambassador should be summoned to the Presence,And that he should be placed on a splendid throne.Then Buzarchamahar, addressing him, said:"O Mubid, bright in council as the sun,Tell us, what said the King about these pieces,So may intelligence be coupled with thee forever!"And this was his answer: "My Master, prosperous in his undertakings,When I was summoned and appeared before him,Said to me: 'These pieces of teak and ivoryPlace before the throne of him who weareth the crown,And say to him: Assemble thy Mubids and counsellors,And seat them, and place the pieces before them.If they succeed in making out the noble game,They will win applause and augment enjoyment:Then slaves and money and tribute and taxes,I will send to him as far as I have the means;For a monarch is to be esteemed for his wisdom,Not for his treasure, or his men, or his lofty throne.But if the King and his counsellors are not able to do all thisAnd their minds are not bright enough to comprehend it,He ought not to desire from us tribute or treasure,And his wise soul, alas! must come to grief;And when he seeth our minds and genius to be subtler than theirs.Rather will he send them to us in greater abundance.'"Then Buzarchamahar brought the chess-men and board,And placed them before the throne of the watchful King,And said to the Mubids and counsellors:"O ye illustrious and pure-hearted sages,Give ear all of you to the words he hath uttered,And to the observations of his prudent chief."Then the knowing-man arranged a battle-field,Giving to the King the place in the centre;Right and left he drew up the army,Placing the foot-soldiers in front of the battle.A prudent vizier he stationed beside the King,To give him advice on the plan of the engagement;On each side he set the elephants of war {our bishops},To support one another in the midst of the combat.Further on he assigned their position to the war-steeds {our knights},Placing upon each a horseman eager for battle.Lastly, right and left, at the extremities of the field,He stationed the heroes {the rooks} as rivals to each other.When Buzarchamahar had thus drawn up the army,The whole assembly was lost in astonishment;But the Indian Ambassador was exceedingly grieved,And stood motionless at the sagacity of that Fortune-favored man;Stupefied with amazement, he looked upon him as a magician,And his whole soul was absorbed in his reflections."For never hath he seen," he said, "a chessboard before,Nor ever hath he heard about it from the experienced men of India.I have told him nothing of the action of these pieces,Not a word have I said about this arrangement and purpose.How then hath the revelation come down upon him?No one in the world will ever take his place!"And Khosru was so proud of Buzarchamahar,Thou mightest say that he was looking Fortune in the face.He was gladdened at his heart, and loaded him with caresses,And ordered him a more than ordinary dress of honor,And commanded him to be given a royal cupFilled to the brim with princely jewels,And a quantity of money, and a charger and a saddle,And dismissed him from the Presence overwhelmed with praises.Robinson's Translation.
"Zal, recovered from the care of the Simurgh and arrived at manhood, is sent to govern the frontier province of Zabul; the adjoining province of Kabul, though tributary to the Persian emperor, being governed by its own king, called Mihrab. This episode commences with a visit which Mihrab pays to Zal, who receives him with distinguished honor, entertains him at a sumptuous banquet, and they separate with mutual respect."
Then a chief of the great ones around himSaid: "O thou, the hero of the world,This Mihrab hath a daughter behind the veil,Whose face is more resplendent than the sun;From head to foot pure as ivory,With a cheek like the spring, and in stature like the teak-tree.Upon her silver shoulders descend two musky tresses,Which, like nooses, fetter the captive;Her lip is like the pomegranate, and her cheek like its flower;Her eyes resemble the narcissus in the garden;Her eyelashes have borrowed the blackness of the raven;Her eyebrows are arched like a fringed bow.Wouldst thou behold the mild radiance of the moon? Look upon hercountenance!Wouldst thou inhale delightful odors? She is all fragrance!She is altogether a paradise of sweets,Decked with all grace, all music, all thou canst desire!She would be fitting for thee, O warrior of the world;She is as the heavens above to such as we are."When Zal heard this description,His love leaped to the lovely maiden:His heart boiled over with the heat of passion,So that understanding and rest departed from him.Night came, but he sat groaning, and buried in thought,And a prey to sorrow for the not-yet-seen.
On returning from a second visit, Mihrab describes Zal to his wife and his daughter Rudabeh.
"O beautiful silver-bosomed cypress,In the wide world not one of the heroesWill come up to the measure of Zal!In the pictured palace men will never behold the imageOf a warrior so strong, or so firm in the saddle.He hath the heart of a lion, the power of an elephant,And the strength of his arm is as the rush of the Nile.When he sitteth on the throne, he scattereth gold before him;In the battle, the heads of his enemies.His cheek is as ruddy as the flower of the arghavan;Young in years, all alive, and the favorite of fortune;And though his hair is white as though with age,Yet in his bravery he could tear to pieces the water-serpent."He rageth in the conflict with the fury of the crocodile,He fighteth in the saddle like a sharp-fanged dragon.In his wrath he staineth the earth with blood,As he wieldeth his bright scimitar around him.And though his hair is as white as is a fawn's,In vain would the fault-finder seek another defect!Nay, the whiteness of his hair even becometh him;Thou wouldst say that he is born to beguile all hearts!"When Rudabeh heard this description,Her heart was set on fire, and her cheek crimsoned like the pomegranate.Her whole soul was filled with the love of Zal,And food, and peace, and quietude were driven far from her.
After a time Rudabeh resolves to reveal her passion to her attendants.