Read Ebook: The Persian Literature Comprising The Shah Nameh The Rubaiyat The Divan and The Gulistan Volume 1 by Firdawsi Hafiz Active Th Century Omar Khayyam Gottheil Richard J H Richard James Horatio Contributor Atkinson James Translator Bicknell Herman Translator FitzGerald Edward Translator

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Thus urged to crime, through cruel treachery, Zoh?k usurped his pious father's throne.

When Ibl?s found that he had got Zoh?k completely in his power, he told him that, if he followed his counsel and advice implicitly, he would become the greatest monarch of the age, the sovereign of the seven climes, signifying the whole world. Zoh?k agreed to every thing, and Ibl?s continued to bestow upon him the most devoted attention and flattery for the purpose of moulding him entirely to his will. To such an extreme degree had his authority attained, that he became the sole director even in the royal kitchen, and prepared for Zoh?k the most delicious and savory food imaginable; for in those days bread and fruit only were the usual articles of food. Ibl?s himself was the original inventor of the cooking art. Zoh?k was delighted with the dishes, made from every variety of bird and four-footed animal. Every day something new and rare was brought to his table, and every day Ibl?s increased in favor. But an egg was to him the most delicate of all! "What can there be superior to this?" said he. "To-morrow," replied Ibl?s, "thou shalt have something better, and of a far superior kind."

Next day he brought delicious fare, and dressed In manner exquisite to please the eye, As well as taste; partridge and pheasant rich, A banquet for a prince. Zoh?k beheld Delighted the repast, and eagerly Relished its flavor; then in gratitude, And admiration of the matchless art Which thus had ministered to his appetite, He cried:--"For this, whatever thou desirest, And I can give, is thine." Ibl?s was glad, And, little anxious, had but one request-- One unimportant wish--it was to kiss The monarch's naked shoulder--a mere whim. And promptly did Zoh?k comply, for he Was unsuspicious still, and stripped himself, Ready to gratify that simple wish.

Ibl?s then kissed the part with fiendish glee, And vanished in an instant.

From the touch Sprang two black serpents! Then a tumult rose Among the people, searching for Ibl?s Through all the palace, but they sought in vain.

To young and old it was a marvellous thing; The serpents writhed about as seeking food, And learned men to see the wonder came, And sage magicians tried to charm away That dreadful evil, but no cure was found.

Some time afterwards Ibl?s returned to Zoh?k, but in the shape of a physician, and told him that it was according to his own horoscope that he suffered in this manner--it was, in short, his destiny--and that the serpents would continue connected with him throughout his life, involving him in perpetual misery. Zoh?k sunk into despair, upon the assurance of there being no remedy for him, but Ibl?s again roused him by saying, that if the serpents were fed daily with human brains, which would probably kill them, his life might be prolonged, and made easy.

If life has any charm for thee, The brain of man their food must be!

With the adoption of this deceitful stratagem, Ibl?s was highly pleased, and congratulated himself upon the success of his wicked exertions, thinking that in this manner a great portion of the human race would be destroyed. He was not aware that his craft and cunning had no influence in the house of God; and that the descendants of Adam are continually increasing.

When the people of Ir?n and T?r?n heard that Zoh?k kept near him two devouring serpents, alarm and terror spread everywhere, and so universal was the dread produced by this intelligence, that the nobles of Persia were induced to abandon their allegiance to Jemsh?d, and, turning through fear to Zoh?k, confederated with the Arab troops against their own country. Jemsh?d continued for some time to resist their efforts, but was at last defeated, and became a wanderer on the face of the earth.

To him existence was a burden now, The world a desert--for Zoh?k had gained The imperial crown, and from all acts and deeds Of royal import, razed out the very name Of Jemsh?d hateful in the tyrant's eyes.

The Persian government having fallen into the hands of the usurper, he sent his spies in every direction for the purpose of getting possession of Jemsh?d wherever he might be found, but their labor was not crowned with success. The unfortunate wanderer, after experiencing numberless misfortunes, at length took refuge in Z?bulist?n.

Flying from place to place, through wilderness, Wide plain, and mountain, veiled from human eye, Hungry and worn out with fatigue and sorrow, He came to Z?bul.

The king of Z?bulist?n, whose name was G?reng, had a daughter of extreme beauty. She was also remarkable for her mental endowments, and was familiar with warlike exercises.

So graceful in her movements, and so sweet, Her very look plucked from the breast of age The root of sorrow--her wine-sipping lips, And mouth like sugar, cheeks all dimpled o'er With smiles, and glowing as the summer rose-- Won every heart.

This damsel, possessed of these beauties and charms, was accustomed to dress herself in the warlike habiliments of a man, and to combat with heroes. She was then only fifteen years of age, but so accomplished in valor, judgment, and discretion, that Min?chihr, who had in that year commenced hostile operations against her father, was compelled to relinquish his pretensions, and submit to the gallantry which she displayed on that occasion. Her father's realm was saved by her magnanimity. Many kings were her suitors, but G?reng would not give his consent to her marriage with any of them. He only agreed that she should marry the sovereign whom she might spontaneously love.

It must be love, and love alone, That binds thee to another's throne; In this my father has no voice, Thine the election, thine the choice.

The daughter of G?reng had a K?bul woman for her nurse, who was deeply skilled in all sorts of magic and sorcery.

The old enchantress well could say, What would befall on distant day; And by her art omnipotent, Could from the watery element Draw fire, and with her magic breath, Seal up a dragon's eyes in death. Could from the flint-stone conjure dew; The moon and seven stars she knew; And of all things invisible To human sight, this crone could tell.

This K?bul sorceress had long before intimated to the damsel that, conformably with her destiny, which had been distinctly ascertained from the motions of the heavenly bodies, she would, after a certain time, be married to King Jemsh?d, and bear him a beautiful son. The damsel was overjoyed at these tidings, and her father received them with equal pleasure, refusing in consequence the solicitations of every other suitor. Now according to the prophecy, Jemsh?d arrived at the city of Z?bul in the spring season, when the roses were in bloom; and it so happened that the garden of King G?reng was in the way, and also that his daughter was amusing herself at the time in the garden. Jemsh?d proceeded in that direction, but the keepers of the garden would not allow him to pass, and therefore, fatigued and dispirited, he sat down by the garden-door under the shade of a tree. Whilst he was sitting there a slave-girl chanced to come out of the garden, and, observing him, was surprised at his melancholy and forlorn condition. She said to him involuntarily: "Who art thou?" and Jemsh?d raising up his eyes, replied:--"I was once possessed of wealth and lived in great affluence, but I am now abandoned by fortune, and have come from a distant country. Would to heaven I could be blessed with a few cups of wine, my fatigue and affliction might then be relieved." The girl smiled, and returned hastily to the princess, and told her that a young man, wearied with travelling, was sitting at the garden gate, whose countenance was more lovely even than that of her mistress, and who requested to have a few cups of wine. When the damsel heard such high praise of the stranger's features she was exceedingly pleased, and said: "He asks only for wine, but I will give him both wine and music, and a beautiful mistress beside."

This saying, she repaired towards the gate, In motion graceful as the waving cypress, Attended by her hand-maid; seeing him, She thought he was a warrior of Ir?n With spreading shoulders, and his loins well bound. His visage pale as the pomegranate flower, He looked like light in darkness. Warm emotions Rose in her heart, and softly thus she spoke: "Grief-broken stranger, rest thee underneath These shady bowers; if wine can make thee glad, Enter this pleasant place, and drink thy fill."

Whilst the damsel was still speaking and inviting Jemsh?d into the garden, he looked at her thoughtfully, and hesitated; and she said to him: "Why do you hesitate? I am permitted by my father to do what I please, and my heart is my own.

"Stranger, my father is the monarch mild Of Z?bulist?n, and I his only child; On me is all his fond affection shown; My wish is his, on me he dotes alone."

Jemsh?d had before heard of the character and renown of this extraordinary damsel, yet he was not disposed to comply with her entreaty; but contemplating again her lovely face, his heart became enamoured, when she took him by the hand and led him along the beautiful walks.

With dignity and elegance she passed-- As moves the mountain partridge through the meads; Her tresses richly falling to her feet, And filling with perfume the softened breeze.

In their promenade they arrived at the basin of a fountain, near which they seated themselves upon royal carpets, and the damsel having placed Jemsh?d in such a manner that they might face each other, she called for music and wine.

But first the rose-cheeked handmaids gathered round, And washed obsequiously the stranger's feet; Then on the margin of the silvery lake Attentive sate.

The youth, after this, readily took the wine and refreshments which were ordered by the princess.

Three cups he drank with eager zest, Three cups of ruby wine; Which banished sorrow from his breast, For memory left no sign Of past affliction; not a trace Remained upon his heart, or smiling face.

Whilst he was drinking, the princess observed his peculiar action and elegance of manner, and instantly said in her heart: "This must be a king!" She then offered him some more food, as he had come a long journey, and from a distant land, but he only asked for more wine. "Is your fondness for wine so great?" said she. And he replied: "With wine I have no enemy; yet, without it I can be resigned and contented.

"Whilst drinking wine I never see The frowning face of my enemy; Drink freely of the grape, and nought Can give the soul one mournful thought; Wine is a bride of witching power, And wisdom is her marriage dower; Wine can the purest joy impart, Wine inspires the saddest heart; Wine gives cowards valour's rage, Wine gives youth to tottering age; Wine gives vigour to the weak, And crimson to the pallid cheek; And dries up sorrow, as the sun Absorbs the dew it shines upon."

From the voice and eloquence of the speaker she now conjectured that this certainly must be King Jemsh?d, and she felt satisfied that her notions would soon be realized. At this moment she recollected that there was a picture of Jemsh?d in her father's gallery, and thought of sending for it to compare the features; but again she considered that the person before her was certainly and truly Jemsh?d, and that the picture would be unnecessary on the occasion.

It is said that two ring-doves, a male and female, happened to alight on the garden wall near the fountain where they were sitting, and began billing and cooing in amorous play, so that seeing them together in such soft intercourse, blushes overspread the cheeks of the princess, who immediately called for her bow and arrows. When they were brought she said to Jemsh?d, "Point out which of them I shall hit, and I will bring it to the ground." Jemsh?d replied: "Where a man is, a woman's aid is not required--give me the bow, and mark my skill;

"However brave a woman may appear, Whatever strength of arm she may possess, She is but half a man!"

Upon this observation being made, the damsel turned her head aside ashamed, and gave him the bow. Her heart was full of love. Jemsh?d took the bow, and selecting a feathered arrow out of her hand, said:--"Now for a wager. If I hit the female, shall the lady whom I most admire in this company be mine?" The damsel assented. Jemsh?d drew the string, and the arrow struck the female dove so skilfully as to transfix both the wings, and pin them together. The male ring-dove flew away, but moved by natural affection it soon returned, and settled on the same spot as before. The bow was said to be so strong that there was not a warrior in the whole kingdom who could even draw the string; and when the damsel witnessed the dexterity of the stranger, and the ease with which he used the weapon, she thought within her heart, "There can be no necessity for the picture; I am certain that this can be no other than the King Jemsh?d, the son of Tah?mers, called the Binder of Demons." Then she took the bow from the hand of Jemsh?d, and observed: "The male bird has returned to its former place, if my aim be successful shall the man whom I choose in this company be my husband?" Jemsh?d instantly understood her meaning. At that moment the K?bul nurse appeared, and the young princess communicated to her all that had occurred. The nurse leisurely examined Jemsh?d from head to foot with a slave-purchaser's eye, and knew him, and said to her mistress--"All that I saw in thy horoscope and foretold, is now in the course of fulfilment. God has brought Jemsh?d hither to be thy spouse. Be not regardless of thy good fortune, and the Almighty will bless thee with a son, who will be the conqueror of the world. The signs and tokens of thy destiny I have already explained." The damsel had become greatly enamoured of the person of the stranger before she knew who he was, and now being told by her nurse that he was Jemsh?d himself, her affection was augmented twofold.

The happy tidings, blissful to her heart, Increased the ardour of her love for him.

And now the picture was brought to the princess, who, finding the resemblance exact, put it into Jemsh?d's hand. Jemsh?d, in secretly recognizing his own likeness, was forcibly reminded of his past glory and happiness, and he burst into tears.

The memory of the diadem and throne No longer his, came o'er him, and his soul Was rent with anguish.

The princess said to him: "Why at the commencement of our friendship dost thou weep? Art thou discontented--dissatisfied, unhappy? and am I the cause?" Jemsh?d replied: "No, it is simply this; those who have feeling, and pity the sufferings of others, weep involuntarily. I pity the misfortunes of Jemsh?d, driven as he is by adversity from the splendor of a throne, and reduced to a state of destitution and ruin. But he must now be dead; devoured, perhaps, by the wolves and lions of the forest." The nurse and princess, however, were convinced, from the sweetness of his voice and discourse, that he could be no other than Jemsh?d himself, and taking him aside, they said: "Speak truly, art thou not Jemsh?d?" But he denied himself. Again, they observed: "What says this picture?" To this he replied; "It is not impossible that I may be like Jemsh?d in feature; for surely there may be in the world two men like each other?" And notwithstanding all the efforts made by the damsel and her nurse to induce Jemsh?d to confess, he still resolutely denied himself. Several times she assured him she would keep his secret, if he had one, but that she was certain of his being Jemsh?d. Still he denied himself. "This nurse of mine, whom thou seest," said she, "has often repeated to me the good tidings that I should be united to Jemsh?d, and bear him a son. My heart instinctively acknowledged thee at first sight: then wherefore this denial of the truth? Many kings have solicited my hand in marriage, but all have been rejected, as I am destined to be thine, and united to no other." Dismissing now all her attendants, she remained with the nurse and Jemsh?d, and then resumed:--

"How long hath sleep forsaken me? how long Hath my fond heart been kept awake by love? Hope still upheld me--give me one kind look, And I will sacrifice my life for thee; Come, take my life, for it is thine for ever."

Saying this, the damsel began to weep, and shedding a flood of tears, tenderly reproached him for not acknowledging the truth. Jemsh?d was at length moved by her affection and sorrow, and thus addressed her:--"There are two considerations which at present prevent the truth being told. One of them is my having a powerful enemy, and Heaven forbid that he should obtain information of my place of refuge. The other is, I never intrust my secrets to a woman!

"Fortune I dread, since fortune is my foe, And womankind are seldom known to keep Another's secret. To be poor and safe, Is better far than wealth exposed to peril." To this the princess: "Is it so decreed, That every woman has two tongues, two hearts? All false alike, their tempers all the same? No, no! could I disloyally betray thee? I who still love thee better than my life?"

Jemsh?d found it impossible to resist the damsel's incessant entreaties and persuasive tenderness, mingled as they were with tears of sorrow. Vanquished thus by the warmth of her affections, he told her his name, and the history of his misfortunes. She then ardently seized his hand, overjoyed at the disclosure, and taking him privately to her own chamber, they were married according to the customs of her country.

Him to the secret bower with blushing cheek Exultingly she led, and mutual bliss, Springing from mutual tenderness and love, Entranced their souls.

When G?reng the king found that his daughter's visits to him became less frequent than usual, he set his spies to work, and was not long in ascertaining the cause of her continued absence. She had married without his permission, and he was in great wrath. It happened, too, at this time that the bride was pale and in delicate health.

The mystery soon was manifest, And thus the king his child addrest, Whilst anger darkened o'er his brow:-- "What hast thou done, ungrateful, now? Why hast thou flung, in evil day, The veil of modesty away? That cheek the bloom of spring displayed, Now all is withered, all decayed; But daughters, as the wise declare, Are ever false, if they be fair."

Incensed at words so sharp and strong, The damsel thus repelled the wrong:-- "Me, father, canst thou justly blame? I never, never, brought thee shame; With me can sin and crime accord, When Jemsh?d is my wedded lord?"

After this precipitate avowal, the K?bul nurse, of many spells, instantly took up her defence, and informed the king that the prophecy she had formerly communicated to him was on the point of fulfilment, and that the Almighty having, in the course of destiny, brought Jemsh?d into his kingdom, the princess, according to the same planetary influence, would shortly become a mother.

And now the damsel grovels on the ground Before King G?reng. "Well thou know'st," she cries, "From me no evil comes. Whether in arms, Or at the banquet, honour guides me still: And well thou know'st thy royal will pronounced That I should be unfettered in my choice, And free to take the husband I preferred. This I have done; and to the greatest king The world can boast, my fortunes are united, To Jemsh?d, the most perfect of mankind."

With this explanation the king expressed abundant and unusual satisfaction. His satisfaction, however, did not arise from the circumstance of the marriage, and the new connection it established, but from the opportunity it afforded him of betraying Jemsh?d, and treacherously sending him bound to Zoh?k, which he intended to do, in the hopes of being magnificently rewarded. Exulting with this anticipation, he said to her smiling:--

"Glad tidings thou hast given to me, My glory owes its birth to thee; I bless the day, and bless the hour, Which placed this Jemsh?d in my power. Now to Zoh?k, a captive bound, I send the wanderer thou hast found; For he who charms the monarch's eyes, With this long-sought, this noble prize, On solemn word and oath, obtains A wealthy kingdom for his pains."

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