No More Learning

"The doctor principally applied himself to ridiculing the dan-
gers of the siege, in which he succeeded so well that he some-
times forced a smile even into the face of Amelia. But what
most comforted her were the arguments he used to convince her
of the probability of my speedy, if not immediate, return. He
said the general opinion was that the place would be taken
before our arrival there; in which case we should have nothing
more to do than to make the best of our way home again.
X-359


## p. 5730 (#314) ###########################################

5730
HENRY FIELDING
"Amelia was so lulled by these arts that she passed the day
much better than I expected. Though the doctor could not
make pride strong enough to conquer love, yet he exalted the
former to make some stand against the latter; insomuch that
my poor Amelia, I believe, more than once flattered herself, to
speak the language of the world, that her reason had gained an
entire victory over her passion; till love brought up a reinforce-
ment, if I may use that term, of tender ideas, and bore down
all before him.
"In the evening the doctor and I passed another half-hour
together, when he proposed to me to endeavor to leave Amelia.
asleep in the morning, and promised me to be at hand when she
awaked, and to support her with all the assistance in his power;
he added that nothing was more foolish than for friends to take
leave of each other. 'It is true indeed,' says he, 'in the com-
mon acquaintance and friendship of the world, this is a very
harmless ceremony; but between two persons who really love
each other, the Church of Rome never invented a penance half
so severe as this which we absurdly impose on ourselves. '
"I greatly approved the doctor's proposal, thanked him, and
promised if possible to put it in execution. He then shook me
by the hand and heartily wished me well, saying in his blunt
way, Well, boy, I hope to see thee crowned with laurels at thy
return: one comfort I have at least, that stone walls and a sea
will prevent thee from running away. '
"When I had left the doctor I repaired to my Amelia, whom
I found in her chamber, employed in a very different manner
from what she had been the preceding night: she was busy in
packing up some trinkets in a casket, which she desired me to
carry with me. This casket was her own work, and she had just
fastened it as I came to her.
"Her eyes very plainly discovered what had passed while she
was engaged in her work; however, her countenance was now
serene, and she spoke at least with some cheerfulness; but after
some time, 'You must take care of this casket, Billy,' said she;
'you must, indeed, Billy, for her passion almost choked her
till a flood of tears gave her relief, and then she proceeded -
'for I shall be the happiest woman that ever was born when I
see it again. I told her, with the blessing of God, that day
would soon come. 'Soon? answered she, 'no, Billy, not soon;
a week is an age; but yet the happy day may come. It shall, it


## p. 5731 (#315) ###########################################

HENRY FIELDING
5731
must, it will! Yes, Billy, we shall meet never to part again -
even in this world, I hope. ' Pardon my weakness, Miss Mat-
thews, but upon my soul I cannot help it," cried he, wiping
his eyes.
"Well, I wonder at your patience, and I will try it no longer.
Amelia, tired out with so long a struggle between a variety of
passions, and having not closed her eyes during three successive
nights, towards the morning fell into a profound sleep, in which
sleep I left her; and having dressed myself with all the expedi-
tion imaginable, singing, whistling, hurrying, attempting by every
method to banish thought, I mounted my horse, which I had
over-night ordered to be ready, and galloped away from that
house where all my treasure was deposited.
"Thus, madam, I have in obedience to your commands run
through a scene, which if it has been tiresome to you, you must
yet acquit me of having obtruded upon you. This I am convinced
of, that no one is capable of tasting such a scene who has not a
heart full of tenderness, and perhaps not even then, unless he
has been in the same situation. "


## p. 5732 (#316) ###########################################

5732
VINCENZO DA FILICAIA
(1642-1707)
ITERARY historians agree that Italian poetry reached its lowest
ebb in the early part of the seventeenth century. The verse
of the imitators of Marini degenerated into mere artifice.
Brought to a high technical perfection, it yet lacked substance and
truth of feeling, and was become a mere plaything in the hands of
skillful versifiers. Near the end of the century a group of Roman
literary men founded a society called "The Arcadia," whose avowed
object was to repudiate this verse-making à la mode, and to bring
poetry back to nature. But they marred
still further what they had set out to mend.
In their hands simplicity became inanity.
Instead of returning to nature they played
at being shepherds and shepherdesses, while
their pastoral Muse wore patches and French
heels.

In this period of make-believe, almost
the only genuine voice was that of Vin-
cenzo da Filicaia. Born in Florence in 1642
of an ancient and noble family, he was lib-
erally educated, at first in the schools of
his native city and afterwards at the Uni-
VINCENZO DA FILICAIA versity of Pisa. Then, withdrawing to a
small villa near Florence, he gave himself
up to study and to writing. Like all his contemporaries, he began by
composing amatory verse. After the marriage and early death of the
lady whom he had celebrated, he burned all these youthful effusions,
and dedicated his muse to God and to Italy. In 1683, when John
Sobieski raised the siege of Vienna and saved the civilization of Eu-
rope from the invading Turks, Filicaia, thrilled by the heroism of the
Polish king, celebrated his victory in six famous odes. Uplifted by
the grandeur of his theme, the poet rose to heights of lyric enthusiasm
that set him among the inspired singers of his country. Read in all
the courts of Europe, the modest poet who had hardly dared to show
his verses to his friends, suddenly found himself face to face with a
European reputation. The Christian nations, trembling to see their
fate hang in the balance, found in these odes a passionate expression
of their joy in deliverance, and of their admiration for the warrior
king.


## p. 5733 (#317) ###########################################

VINCENZO DA FILICAIA
5733
The brilliant Christina of Sweden drew the poet into her circle in
Rome, and undertook to educate his two sons. Cosmo III. , Grand
Duke of Florence, made him governor of Volterra and of Pisa. Fili-
caia spent the last few years of his life at Florence, where he had
been raised to the rank of a senator. He died in that city Septem-
ber 24th, 1707.
Although himself an Arcadian, and the most noted of that school,
Filicaia was remarkably free from its extravagances. He was saved
from bathos by the depth of his thought, the strength and energy of
his expression, his mastery over technique, and the genuineness of his
enthusiasm. Yet, sincere though he was, he did not quite escape the
charge of affectation. His fame in consequence has undergone some
mutations. Much of his poetry is still read with admiration, and his
famous sonnet on Italy, which Byron has so finely paraphrased in the
fourth canto of Childe Harold,' all Italians still know by heart.
TIME
SAW a mighty river, wild and vast,
I
Whose rapid waves were moments, which did glide
So swiftly onward in their silent tide,
That ere their flight was heeded, they were past;
A river, that to death's dark shores doth fast
Conduct all living with resistless force,
And though unfelt, pursues its noiseless course,
To quench all fires in Lethe's stream at last.
Its current with creation's birth was born;
And with the heaven's commenced its march sublime,
In days and months, still hurrying on untired.
Marking its flight, I inwardly did mourn,
And of my musing thoughts in doubt inquired
The river's name: my thoughts responded, Time.
OF PROVIDENCE
UST as a mother, with sweet pious face,
J
Turns towards her little children from her seat,
Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,
Takes this upon her knees, that on her feet;
And while from actions, looks, complaints, pretenses,
She learns their feelings and their various will,
To this a look, to that a word dispenses,
And whether stern or smiling, loves them still;-
――――――――


## p. 5734 (#318) ###########################################

5734
VINCENZO DA FILICAIA
So Providence for us, high, infinite,
Makes our necessities its watchful task,
Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants;
And even if it denies what seems our right,
Either denies because 'twould have us ask,
Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.
TO ITALY
TALIA, O Italia! hapless thou,
IT
Who didst the . fatal gift of beauty gain,—
A dowry fraught with never-ending pain,
A seal of sorrow stamped upon thy brow:
Oh, were thy bravery more, or less thy charms!
Then should thy foes, they whom thy loveliness
Now lures afar to conquer and possess,
Adore thy beauty less, or dread thine arms!
No longer then should hostile torrents pour
Adown the Alps; and Gallic troops be laved
In the red waters of the Po no more;
No longer then, by foreign courage saved,
Barbarian succor should thy sons implore,-
Vanquished or victors, still by Goths enslaved.


## p. 5735 (#319) ###########################################

5735
FIRDAUSĪ
(935-1020)
BY A. V. WILLIAMS JACKSON
the national poet of Persia.
IRDAUSĨ, author of the 'Shah Namah,' or Book of Kings, is
With the name of Firdausī in
the tenth century of our era, modern Persian poetry may be
said to begin. Firdausī, however, really forms only one link in the
long chain of Iranian literature which extends over more than twenty-
five centuries, and whose beginnings are to be sought in the Avesta,
five hundred years before the birth of Christ.
A brief glance may first be taken at the history of the literary
development of Persia. The sacred Zoroastrian scriptures of the
Avesta, together with the Old Persian rock inscriptions of the Achæ-
menian kings, Darius, Xerxes, and Artaxerxes, form the ancient
epoch known as Old Iranian Literature, beginning at least in the fifth
century before the Christian era. A second great division in the lit-
erary history of Iran is constituted by the Middle Persian. This is
the period inaugurated by the Sassanian dynasty in the third century
A. D. , and it extends beyond the Mohammedan conquest of Persia
(651) to about the ninth century. The language and literature of
this Middle Persian period is called Pahlavi. The Pahlavi records are
chiefly writings relating to the Zoroastrian religion. The Mohamme-
dan conquest of Iran by the Arabs somewhat resembles, in its effect
upon Persian literature, the Norman conquest of England. Hardly
two centuries had elapsed before an Iranian renaissance is begun to
be felt in Persia. Firdausī comes three hundred years after the battle
of Nihāvand, in which the eagle of the Persian military standard
sank before the crescent of Allah's prophet and the Mohammedan
sword; just as Chaucer followed the battle of Hastings by three hun-
dred years.
Such was the literary situation at the end of the ninth century.
Firdausi was the poet in whom the wave of the national epos culmi-
nated in the tenth century. But as there were English poets who
struck the note before Chaucer, so in Persia, Firdausī had his literary
predecessors. A mere mention of the more important of these must
suffice. Abbas of Merv (809) was one of these earlier bards.
greater repute was Rūdagi (died 954), who is said to have composed
no less than a million verses. But Firdausi's direct predecessor and
Of


## p. 5736 (#320) ###########################################

5736
FIRDAUSI
inspirer in the epic strain was Daqiqi. This young poet, like Mar-
lowe, the herald of Shakespeare, was cruelly murdered when he had
sung but a thousand lines. Yet these thousand verses are immortal,
as Firdausi has incorporated them into his poem and has thus hap-
pily preserved them. They are the lines that describe the founding
of the religion of Zoroaster, priest of fire. There was possibly a cer-
tain amount of tact on Firdausī's part in using these, or in claiming
to employ Daqiqi's rhymes: he thus escaped having personally to
deal with the delicate religious question of the Persian faith in the
midst of the fanatical Mohammedans, who are said to have assassi-
nated Daqiqi on account of his too zealous devotion to the old-time
creed. With Firdausi, then, the New Persian era is auspiciously in-
augurated in the tenth century; its further development through the
romantic, philosophic, mystic, didactic, and lyric movements must be
sought under the names of Nizami, Omar Khayyam, Jalāl-ad-din
Rūmi, Sa'di, Hafiz, and Jāmi.
Firdausī is pre-eminently the heroic poet of Persia. The date of
his birth falls about 935. His full name seems to have been Abul-
qasim Hasan (Ahmad or Mansur); the appellative "Firdausī " (Para-
dise), by which he is known to fame, was bestowed upon him,
according to some accounts, by his royal patron the Sultan Mahmud.
Firdausi's native place was Tūs in Khorasan. By descent he was
heir to that Persian pride and love of country which the Arab con-
quest could not crush. By birth, therefore, this singer possessed
more than ordinary qualifications for chanting in rhythmical measures
the annals of ancient Iran. He had undoubtedly likewise made long
and careful preparation for his task, equipping himself by research
into the Pahlavi or Middle Persian sources, from which he drew ma-
terial for his chronicle-poem. From statements in the Shah Namah'
itself, we may infer that Firdausi was nearly forty years of age when,
with his extraordinary endowments, he made the real beginning of
his monumental work. We likewise know, from personal references
in the poem, that he had been married and had two children. The
death of his beloved son is mourned in touching strains. One of the
crowning events now in the poet's life was his entrance into the lit-
erary circle of the court of Sultan Mahmud of Ghazna, who ruled
998-1030. To Mahmud the great epic is finally dedicated, and the
story of Firdausi's career may best be told in connection with the
masterpiece.
The removal of the heroic bard Daqiqi by fate and by the assas-
sin's dagger had left open the way for an ambitious epic poet. Fir-
dausi was destined to be the fortunate aspirant. A romantic story
tells of his coming to the court of Sultan Mahmud. This legendary
account says that when he first approached the Round Table, the


## p. 5737 (#321) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5737
three court poets, Ansari, Farrukhi, and Asjadi wished no intruder
into their favored circle of poetic composition, and accordingly sought
to rid themselves of his unwelcome presence by putting him to shame.
They suggested a trial of metrical skill in improvisation. The first
of the three poets chose a very difficult Persian word (javshan ·
« cuirass ") to which there was hardly a rhyming word known,—like
the English twelfth, window, silver, chilver (woolly ewe). Firdausī,
they thought, would not be able to complete the quatrain. So Ansari
began:-
"The glance of thy face rivals moonlight or silver;"
Farrukhi matched this with:-
-:
«Thy cheek's downy bloom is as soft as the chilver;"
Asjadi continued the puzzling catchword by:
"Thy eyelashes pierce through the warrior's cuirass;»
Firdausī instantly added:
"As did Giw's fatal lance-stroke at Pashan harass. "
The readiness of this response, and the interesting historical allu-
sion, which was unknown to the coterie until Firdausī proceeded in
perfect verse to tell the story of the fateful battle between the two
heroes whom he had mentioned,- both these facts won generous
admiration and applause from Ansari, Farrukhi, and Asjadī. Charmed
by Firdausi's poetic grace, and impressed by his power and his learn-
ing, they unhesitatingly recognized him as their compeer or superior,
and proceeded in every way to advance him in favor with the Sul-
tan. If true, such an example of disinterestedness would not be easy
to parallel in the East or elsewhere. Unfortunately this pretty story,
although it is written in very choice Persian, is commonly now re-
garded as mere fiction or a baseless fabrication. Nevertheless it
conveys some idea of the general estimate in which Firdausī's genius
was held. We also know that this poet laureate lived long in the
sunshine of the court, and was promised a gold piece for each line
he composed. The liberality of Sultan Mahmud's favor called forth
from Firdausi a splendid poetical panegyric, that is only eclipsed by
the fierce savageness of the scathing satire which later the poet
poured out against his royal patron, when disappointed in old age of
the promised reward that was to crown his great work.
Tradition narrates that Firdausī was a septuagenarian when he
finished the last line of the sixty thousand rhyming couplets that
make up the 'Shah Namah. ' He now looked for the reward of his
· -
-:


## p. 5738 (#322) ###########################################

5738
FIRDAUSI
life's work. But jealousy and intrigue against him had not been idle
during his long residence at court. The Grand Vizier appears to have
induced the Sultan to send Firdausi sixty thousand silver dirhems,
instead of the promised gold. Firdausi is said to have been in the
bath when the elephant laden with the money-bags arrived. On dis-
covering the deception, the injured poet rejected the gift with scorn,
and dividing the silver into three portions, he presented one of these
to the bath steward, the second to the elephant-driver, and he gave
the last to the man who brought him a glass of cordial. He then
wrote the famous satire upon Mahmud, and fled from the city for his
life. For ten years the aged singer was an exile, and he would have
been a wanderer but for the friendly protection extended to him by a
prince of Iraq, who apparently also tried, without effect, to reconcile
the Sultan and the aged poet. Enjoying the solace of this prince's
shelter, Firdausi composed his last work, the 'Yusuf and Zulikha,' a
romantic poem nearly as long as the Iliad, on Joseph and the pas-
sionate love of Potiphar's wife for him.
But Firdausi was now advanced to his eightieth year, and he seems
to have longed to visit his native town of Tus once more. A sad
story is preserved of his death of a broken heart. It is also told that
Mahmud relented and sent to the city of Tus a magnificent caravan
conveying gifts and robes for the aged singer, and bearing likewise
the sixty thousand gold pieces that had once been promised. But all
too late. The treasure-laden camel procession met at the city gate
the funeral cortège that was conducting the dead poet's body to the
grave. Firdausi's death occurred in 1020. His tomb at Tus is still a
place of pious pilgrimage.
The story of the Shah Namah,'. Book of Kings,-may be de-
scribed in briefest words as the chronicle-history of the empire of
Iran, from the moment of its rise in legendary antiquity and during
the golden reign of King Jamshid, through its glorious ascendency
under the majesty of the Kayanian rulers, and down to the days of
Zoroaster; thence onward to the invasion of Persia by Alexander the
Great. The poem from this point follows the various fortunes and
changes of the Persian sovereignty, until its downfall and ruin before
the Mohammedans and Islam. Firdausī naturally treats his subject as
a poetic chronicler, not as a historian; but there is history in the
poem, and he has given a certain unity to his long epic by keeping
sight of the aim that he had in view, which was to exalt the fallen
glory of Iran. The epic is written in a style befitting the theme. A
word must also be bestowed upon Firdausi's romantic poem 'Yusuf
and Zulikha, in which the Biblical story of Joseph, as narrated in the
Quran, was his source. This poem was in great measure the work
of his old age, as it was written after he was seventy; but in the
-


## p. 5739 (#323) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5739
episode of Joseph and Potiphar's wife the luxuriousness of color, the
richness of imagery, the lavish exuberance, and the passion, might in
some degree allow of comparison with Shakespeare's 'Venus and
Adonis, or with Marlowe's 'Hero and Leander. '
Translations of Firdausī should be mentioned. There is an Eng-
lish abridgment of the 'Shah Namah' with versions in prose and in
rhyme by James Atkinson-Shāh Nāmah' (London, 1832; cheaply
reprinted in the 'Chandos Series,' New York, 1886). Several versi-
fied selections are found in Robinson-'Persian Poetry for English
Readers' (privately printed; Glasgow, 1883). There is a standard
French prose translation of the entire 'Shah Nāmah' by Jules Mohl
-Le Livre des Rois' (7 vols. , Paris, 1876-78).
An Italian prose
rendering, also complete, has been made by Italo Pizzi - 'Firdusi, Il
Libro dei Re' (8 vols. , Turin, 1886-89); and Pizzi has given exten-
sive metrical renderings in his 'Storia della Poesia Persiana' (Turin,
1894). In German, there is a running paraphrase of the story by
Görres-Heldenbuch von Iran' (2 vols. , Berlin, 1820). Spirited ren-
derings of selections have also appeared in German: by A. F. von
Schack-Heldensagen des Firdusi' (3 vols. , Stuttgart, 1877); and
by Rückert (unfinished) -'Firdosi's Königsbuch Schahname' (ed.
Bayer, 3 vols. , Berlin, 1890-95). Of the Yusuf and Zulikha' (com-
plete) there is a German translation into rhymed verse by O.
Schlechta-Wssehrd — 'Jussuf und Suleicha' (Vienna, 1889).
A. r. Willeann
-Jackerws
THE BEAUTIFUL RUDABAH DISCLOSES HER LOVE TO ZĀL
From the Shāh-Nāmah›
[After a time Rudabah resolves to reveal her passion to her attendants. ]
HEN she said to her prudent slaves:-
"I will discover what I have hitherto concealed;
Ye are each of you the depositaries of my secrets,
My attendants, and the partners of my griefs.
I am agitated with love like the raging ocean,
Whose billows are heaved to the sky.
My once bright heart is filled with the love of Zal;
My sleep is broken with thoughts of him.
My soul is perpetually filled with my passion;
Night and day my thoughts dwell upon his countenance.
THE


## p. 5740 (#324) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5740
"Not one except yourselves knoweth my secret:
Ye my affectionate and faithful servants,
What remedy now can ye devise for my ease?
What will ye do for me? What promise will ye give me?
Some remedy ye must devise,
To free my heart and soul from this unhappiness. "
Astonishment seized the slaves,
That dishonor should come nigh the daughter of kings.
In the anxiety of their hearts they started from their seats,
And all gave answer with one voice:-
"O crown of the ladies of the earth!
―
Maiden pre-eminent amongst the pre-eminent!
Whose praise is spread abroad from Hindustan to China;
The resplendent ring in the circle of the harem;
Whose stature surpasseth every cypress in the garden;
Whose cheek rivaleth the lustre of the Pleiades;
Whose picture is sent by the ruler of Kanūj
Even to the distant monarchs of the West-
Have you ceased to be modest in your own eyes?
Have you lost all reverence for your father,
That whom his own parent cast from his bosom,
Him you will receive into yours?
A man who was nurtured by a bird in the mountains!
A man who was a byword amongst the people!
You with your roseate countenance and musky tresses,
Seek a man whose hair is already white with age!
You who have filled the world with admiration,
Whose portrait hangeth in every palace,
And whose beauty, and ringlets, and stature, are such
That you might draw down a husband from the skies! "
[To this remonstrance she makes the following indignant answer:]
When Rudabah heard their reply,
Her heart blazed up like fire before the wind.
She raised her voice in anger against them;
Her face flushed, but she cast down her eyes.
After a time, grief and anger mingled in her countenance,
And knitting her brows with passion, she exclaimed:-
"O unadvised and worthless counselors,
It was not becoming in me to ask your advice!
Were my eye dazzled by a star,
How could it rejoice to gaze even upon the moon?


## p. 5741 (#325) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5741
He who is formed of worthless clay will not regard the rose,
Although the rose is in nature more estimable than clay!
I wish not for Cæsar, nor Emperor of China,
Nor for any one of the tiara-crowned monarchs of Irān;
The son of Sam, Zāl, alone is my equal,
With his lion-like limbs and arms and shoulders.
You may call him, as you please, an old man or a young;
To me he is in the room of heart and of soul.
Except him, never shall any one have a place in my heart;
Mention not to me any one except him.
Him hath my love chosen unseen,
Yea, hath chosen him only from description.
For him is my affection, not for face or hair;
And I have sought his love in the way of honor. "
[Her vehemence overcomes the reluctance of the slaves, and one of them
promises, if possible, to contrive an interview. ]
"May hundreds of thousands such as we are be a sacrifice for
thee;
May the wisdom of the creation be thy worthy portion;
May thy dark narcissus-eye be ever full of modesty;
May thy cheek be ever tinged with bashfulness!
If it be necessary to learn the art of the magician,
To sew up the eyes with the bands of enchantment,
We will fly till we surpass the enchanter's bird,
We will run like the deer in search of a remedy.
Perchance we may draw the King nigh unto his moon,
And place him securely at thy side. "
The vermeil lip of Rudabah was filled with smiles;
She turned her saffron-tinged countenance toward the slave,
and said:
"If thou shalt bring this matter to a happy issue,
Thou hast planted for thyself a stately and fruitful tree,
Which every day shall bear rubies for its fruit,
And shall pour that fruit into thy lap.
"
[The story proceeds to say how the slaves fulfill their promise. They go
forth, and find Zāl practicing with the bow. Busying themselves in gather-
ing roses, they attract his attention. He shoots an arrow in that direction,
and sends his quiver-bearer to bring it back. The slaves inquire who the
hero is who draws the bow with so much strength and skill. The boy
answers scornfully, "Do they not know that it is Zal, the most renowned
warrior in the world? ” In reply, they vaunt the superior attractions of Ruda-
bah. The boy reports their account of her to Zal, who goes to speak to
1
12


## p. 5742 (#326) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5742
them, receives from them a warm description of her charms, and presses them
to procure for him the means of obtaining an interview. This little incident
is well imagined: it is Zal who is made to ask for the meeting, and the
honor of Rudabah is not compromised. The slaves return to their mistress
and report upon their mission, eulogizing the goodly qualities of the hero.
Her ironical answer to their former depreciation is animated and natural. ]
Then said the elegant cypress-formed lady to her maidens:—
"Other than this were once your words and your counsel!
Is this then the Zāl, the nursling of a bird?
This the old man, white-haired and withered?
Now his cheek is ruddy as the flower of the arghavan;
His stature is tall, his face beautiful, his presence lordly!
Ye have exalted my charms before him;
Ye have spoken, and made me a bargain! ”
She said, and her lips were full of smiles;
But her cheek crimsoned like the bloom of pomegranate.
[The interview takes places in a private pavilion of the Princess; and the
account of it is marked with more than one touch of truth and beauty. ]
When from a distance the son of the valiant Sam
Became visible to the illustrious maiden,
She opened her gem-like lips and exclaimed:
"Welcome, thou brave and happy youth!
The blessing of the Creator of the world be upon thee!
On him who is the father of a son like thee!
-
May Destiny ever favor thy wishes!
May the vault of heaven be the ground thou walkest on!
The dark night is turned into day by thy countenance;
The world is soul-enlivened by the fragrance of thy presence!
Thou hast traveled hither on foot from thy palace;
Thou hast pained, to behold me, thy royal footsteps! "
When the hero heard the voice from the battlement,
He looked up and beheld a face resplendent as the sun,
Irradiating the terrace like a flashing jewel,
And brightening the ground like a flaming ruby.
Then he replied: "O thou who sheddest the mild radiance of
the moon,
The blessing of Heaven, and mine, be upon thee!
How many nights hath cold Arcturus beholden me,
Uttering my cry to God, the Pure,
And beseeching the Lord of the universe
That he would vouchsafe to unveil thy countenance before me!


## p. 5743 (#327) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5743
Now I am made joyful in hearing thy voice,
In listening to thy rich and gracious accents.
But seek, I pray thee, some way to thy presence;
For what converse can we hold, I on the ground and thou on
the terrace ? »
The Peri-faced maiden heard the words of the hero;
Quickly she unbound her auburn locks,
Coil upon coil and serpent on serpent;
And she stooped and dropped down the tresses from the bat-
tlement,
And cried:-"O hero, child of heroes,
Take now these tresses; they belong to thee,
And I have cherished them that they might prove an aid to
my beloved. »
And Zāl gazed upward at the lovely maiden,
And stood amazed at the beauty of her hair and of her coun-
tenance;
He covered the musky ringlets with his kisses,
And his bride heard the kisses from above;
-
Then he exclaimed: "That would not be right-
May the bright sun never shine on such a day!
It were to lay my hand on the life of one already distracted;
It were to plunge the arrow-point into my own wounded
bosom. "
Then he took his noose from his boy, and made a running
knot,
And threw it, and caught it on the battlement,
And held his breath, and at one bound
Sprang from the ground, and reached the summit.
As soon as the hero stood upon the terrace,
The Peri-faced maiden ran to greet him,
And took the hand of the hero in her own,
And they went like those who were overcome with wine.
Then he descended from the lofty gallery,
His hand in the hand of the tall Princess,
And came to the door of the gold-painted pavilion,
And entered that royal assembly,
Which blazed with light like the bowers of Paradise;
And the slaves stood like houris before them:
And Zal gazed in astonishment
On her face, and her hair, and her stately form, and on all
that splendor.


## p. 5744 (#328) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5744
And Zal was seated in royal pomp
Opposite that mildly radiant beauty;
And Rudabah could not rest from looking towards him,
And gazing upon him with all her eyes;
On that arm and shoulder, and that splendid figure,
On the brightness of that soul-enlightening countenance;
So that the more and more she looked,
The more and more was her heart inflamed.
Then he kissed and embraced her, renewing his vows-
Can the lion help pursuing the wild ass? —
And said: "O sweet and graceful silver-bosomed maiden,
It may not be, that, both of noble lineage,
We should do aught unbecoming our birth;
For from Sam Nariman I received an admonition,
To do no unworthy deed, lest evil should come of it;
For better is the seemly than the unseemly,
That which is lawful than that which is forbidden;
And I fear that Manuchahar, when he shall hear of this affair,
Will not be inclined to give it his approval:
I fear too that Sam will exclaim against it,
And will boil over with passion, and lay his hand upon me.
Yet though soul and body are precious to all men,
Life I will resign, and clothe myself with a shroud
And this I swear by the righteous God-
Ere I will break the faith which I have pledged thee.
I will bow myself before him, and offer my adoration,
And supplicate him as those who worship him in truth,
That he will cleanse the heart of Sām, King of the earth,
From opposition, and rage, and rancor.
Perhaps the Creator of the world may listen to my prayer,
-
And thou mayest yet be publicly proclaimed my wife. "
And Rudabah said:-"And I also, in the presence of the
righteous God,
Take the same pledge, and swear to thee my faith;
And He who created the world be witness to my words,
That no one but the hero of the world,
The throned, the crowned, the far-famed Zāl,
Will I ever permit to be sovereign over me. "
The gray dawn began to show itself,
And the drum to be heard from the royal pavilion;
Then Zal bade adieu to the fair one.
His soul was darkened, and his bosom on fire,
And the eyes of both were filled with tears;


## p. 5745 (#329) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5745
And they lifted up their voices against the sun:
"O glory of the universe, why come so quick?
Couldst thou not wait one little moment? »
Then Zal cast his noose on a pinnacle,
And descended from those happy battlements,
As the sun was rising redly above the mountains,
And the bands of warriors were gathering in their ranks.
Translation of S. Robinson.
THE DEATH OF DARA [DARIUS]
From the Shāh-Namah
THE
HE viziers came to Iskandar [Alexander the Great] and said:
"O King, crowned with victories and knowledge,
We have just slain thine enemy.
Come to an end is his diadem and the throne of princes. "
When Janusyar had thus spoken, Iskandar said to Mahyar :-
"The enemy ye have cast down-where is he? Show me the
nearest road thither. "
They went before him, and the King of the Greeks followed,
His heart and his eyes filled with tears of blood.
When he came near he saw that the face of Dara
Was pale as the flower of the fenugreek,
And his breast clotted with gore.
Having commanded that they should quit their horses
And keep guard over the two ministers,
Swift as the wind Iskandar dismounted from his charger,
And placed on his thigh the head of the wounded man.
He looked to see whether Dara was still in a condition to
speak,
Passed both his hands over his face,
Withdrew the royal diadem from his head,
Unclasped the warlike breastplate from his breast,
And rained down a flood of tears from his eyes when he saw
the wounded body,
And the physician far away.
"May it go well with thee," he exclaimed,
"And let the heart of the malevolent tremble!
Raise thyself and seat thyself on this golden cushion,
And if thou hast strength enough, place thyself in the saddle.
I will bring physicians from Greece and India;
I will shed tears of blood for thy sufferings;
X-360


## p. 5746 (#330) ###########################################

5746
FIRDAUSI
I will restore to thee thy kingdom and thy throne,
And we will depart as soon as thou art better.
When yester-evening the old men told
pened,
me what had hap-
My heart swelled with blood, my lips uttered cries.
We are of one branch, one root, one body-garment:
Why, through our ambition, should we extirpate our race? »
When Dara heard, with a weak voice he replied:-
"May wisdom be thy companion forever!
I believe that from thy God, the just, the holy,
Thou wilt receive a recompense for these thy words.
But for what thou hast said, that Persia shall be mine,
Thine be the throne and the crown of the brave,-
Nearer to me is death than a throne;
My fortune is turned upside down; my throne is at an end.
Such is the determination of the lofty sphere;
Its delights are sorrows, and its profit is ruin.
Take heed that thou say not, in the pride of thy valor,
'I have been superior to this renowned army. '
Know that good and evil are alike from God,
And give him the praise that thyself art still alive.
I am myself a sufficient example of this,
And my history is a commentary upon it for every one.
For what greatness was mine, and sovereignty, and treasure!
And to no one hath suffering ever come through me.
What arms and armies, too, were mine!
And what quantities of horses, and thrones, and diadems!
What children and relatives-
Relatives whose hearts were stamped with my mark.
The earth and the age were as slaves before me.
So was it as long as fortune was my friend;
But now I am severed from all my happiness,
And am fallen into the hands of murderers.
I am in despair about my children and my kinsmen;
The world is become black, and my eyes are darkened.
No one of my relatives cometh to my assistance;
I have no hope but in the great Provider, and that is enough.
Behold me, wounded and stretched upon the ground!
Fate hath ensnared me in the net of destruction.
This is the way of the changeful sphere
With every one, whether he be king or warrior.
In the end all greatness passeth away;
It is a chase in which man is the quarry and Death is the
hunter. »


## p. 5747 (#331) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5747
Iskandar rained tears of anguish from his eyes over the wounded
King,
As he lay stretched on the ground.
When Darà perceived that the grief was from his heart,
And saw the torrent of tears which flowed from his pale cheek,
He said to him:—“All this is of no avail.
From the fire no portion is mine but the smoke;
This is my gift from the All-giver,
And all that remaineth of my once brilliant fortune.
Now give me thine ear from first to last;
Receive what I say, and execute it with judgment. "
Iskandar replied: "It is for thee to command;
Say what thou wilt, thou hast my promise. "
Rapidly Dara unbound his tongue;
Point by point he gave instructions about everything:-
"First, illustrious prince, fear thou God, the righteous Maker,
Who made heaven and earth and time; who created the weak
and the strong:
Watch over my children, and my kindred, and my beloved
veiled women;
Ask of me in marriage my chaste daughter, and make her
happy in thy palace;
To whom her mother gave the name of Roshank,
And in her made the world contented and joyful.
Thou wilt never from my child hear a word of chiding,
Nor will her worst enemy utter a calumny against her.
As she is the daughter of a line of kings,
So in prudence she is the crown of women.
Perhaps she will bring thee an illustrious son,
Who will revive the name of Isfandyar,
Will stir up the fire of Zoroaster,
Take in his hand the Zendavesta;
Will observe the auguries and feast of Sadah, and that of the
New Year,
Renew the splendor of the fire-temples of Hormuzd,
The Sun, the Moon, and Mithra;
Will wash his face and his soul in the waters of wisdom,
Re-establish the customs of Lohrasp,
Restore the Kaianian rites of Gushtasp;
Will treat the great as great and the little as little,
Rekindle religion, and be fortunate. "
Iskandar answered:-
:-
"O good-hearted and righteous King,
I accept thy injunctions and thy testament;


## p. 5748 (#332) ###########################################

5748
FIRDAUSI
I will remain in this country only to execute them.
I will perform thy excellent intentions;
I will make thy intelligence my guide. "
The master of the world seized the hand of Iskandar,
And wept and lamented bitterly;
He placed the palm of it on his lips, and said to him:-"Be
God thy refuge!
I leave thee my throne, and return to the dust;
My soul I leave to God the holy. "
He spoke, and his soul quitted his body,
And all who were about him wept bitterly.
Iskandar rent all his garments,
And scattered dust on the crown of the Kaianians.
He built a tomb for him agreeably to the customs of his
country,
And suitable to his faith and the splendor of his rank.
They washed the blood from his body with precious rose-water,
Since the time of the eternal sleep had arrived.
They wrapped it in brocade of Rum,
Its surface covered with jewels on a ground of gold.
They hid it under a coating of camphor,
And after that no one saw the face of Dara any more.
In the tomb they placed for him a dais of gold,
And on his head a crown of musk.
They laid him in a coffin of gold,
And rained over him from their eyelids a shower of blood.
When they raised the coffin from the ground,
They bore it, turn by turn;
Iskandar went before it on foot,
And the grandees followed behind, shedding tears of anguish.
So they proceeded to the sepulchre of Dara,
And placed the coffin on the dais, performing all the cere-
mony due to kings;
And when they had completed the magnificent monument,
They erected gibbets before it, and executed the murderers.
Translation of S. Robinson.
1
1


## p. 5749 (#333) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5749
THE WARRIOR SĀM DESCRIBES HIS VICTORY OVER A DRAGON
From the Shāh Nāmah'
AM thy servant, and twice sixty years
I
Have seen thy prowess. Mounted on my steed,
Wielding my battle-axe, o'erthrowing heroes,
Who equals Sām, the warrior? I destroyed
The mighty monster, whose devouring jaws
Unpeopled half the land, and spread dismay
From town to town. The world was full of horror;
No bird was seen in air, no beast of prey
In plain or forest; from the stream he drew
The crocodile; the eagle from the sky.
The country had no habitant alive,
And when I found no human being left,
I cast away all fear, and girt my loins,
And in the name of God went boldly forth,
Armed for the strife. I saw him towering rise,
Huge as a mountain, with his hideous hair
Dragging upon the ground; his long black tongue
Shut up the path; his eyes two lakes of blood;
And seeing me, so horrible his roar,
The earth shook with affright, and from his mouth
A flood of poison issued. Like a lion
Forward I sprang, and in a moment drove
A diamond-pointed arrow through his tongue,
Fixing him to the ground. Another went
Down his deep throat, and dreadfully he writhed.
A third passed through his middle. Then I raised
My battle-axe, cow-headed; and with one
Tremendous blow dislodged his venomous brain,
And deluged all around with blood and poison.
There lay the monster dead, and soon the world
Regained its peace and comfort. Now I'm old;
The vigor of my youth is past and gone;
And it becomes me to resign my station
To Zal, my gallant son.
Version by J. Atkinson.


## p. 5750 (#334) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5750
FIRDAUSI'S SATIRE ON MÁHMÚD
From the Shah Namah'
Κ
NOW, tyrant as thou art, this earthly state
Is not eternal, but of transient date;
Fear God, then, and afflict not humankind;
To merit Heaven, be thou to Heaven resigned.
Afflict not even the ant: though weak and small,
It breathes and lives, and life is sweet to all.
Knowing my temper, firm and stern and bold,
Didst thou not, tyrant, tremble to behold
My sword blood-dropping? Hadst thou not the sense
To shrink from giving man like me offense?
What could impel thee to an act so base?
What, but to earn and prove thy own disgrace?
Why was I sentenced to be trod upon
And crushed to death by elephants, by one
Whose power I scorn? Couldst thou presume that I
Would be appalled by thee, whom I defy?
I am the lion, I, inured to blood,
And make the impious and the base my food;
And I could grind thy limbs, and spread them far
As Nile's dark waters their rich treasures bear.
Fear thee! I fear not man, but God alone;
I only bow to his Almighty throne.
Inspired by him, my ready numbers flow;
Guarded by him, I dread no earthly foe.
Thus in the pride of song I pass my days,
Offering to Heaven my gratitude and praise.
From every trace of sense and feeling free,
When thou art dead, what will become of thee?
If thou shouldst tear me limb from limb, and cast
My dust and ashes to the angry blast,
Firdausī still would live, since on thy name,
Máhmúd, I did not rest my hopes of fame
In the bright page of my heroic song,
But on the God of heaven, to whom belong
Boundless thanksgivings, and on him whose love
Supports the faithful in the realms above,
The mighty Prophet! None who e'er reposed
On him, existence without hope has closed.
And thou wouldst hurl me underneath the tread
Of the wild elephant, till I were dead!


## p. 5751 (#335) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
Dead! by that insult roused I should become
An elephant in power, and seal thy doom—
Máhmúd! if fear of man hath never awed
Thy heart, at least fear thy creator God.
Full many a warrior of illustrious worth,
Full many of humble, of imperial birth,—
Túr, Selím, Jemshíd, Minúchihr the brave,
Have died; for nothing had the power to save
These mighty monarchs from the common doom;
They died, but blest in memory still they bloom.
Thus kings too perish,-none on earth remain,
Since all things human see the dust again.
Oh, had thy father graced a kingly throne,
Thy mother been for royal virtues known,
A different fate the poet then had shared,—
Honors and wealth had been his just reward;
But how remote from thee a glorious line!
No high, ennobling ancestry is thine;
From a vile stock thy bold career began,—
A blacksmith was thy sire, of Isfahán.
Alas! from vice can goodness ever spring?
Is mercy hoped for in a tyrant king?
Can water wash the Ethiopian white?
Can we remove the darkness from the night?
The tree to which a bitter fruit is given
Would still be bitter in the bowers of heaven;
And a bad heart keeps on its vicious course,-
Or if it changes, changes for the worse;
Whilst streams of milk, where Eden's flow'rets blow,
Acquire more honeyed sweetness as they flow.
The reckless king who grinds the poor like thee
Must ever be consigned to infamy!
-
Now mark Firdausī's strain; his Book of Kings
Will ever soar upon triumphant wings.
All who have listened to its various lore
Rejoice; the wise grow wiser than before;
Heroes of other times, of ancient days,
Forever flourish in my sounding lays:
Have I not sung of Káús, Tús and Giw;
Of matchless Rustem, faithful still and true.
Of the great Demon-binder, who could throw
His kamund to the heavens, and seize his foe!
Of Húsheng, Feridún, and Sám Suwár,
Lohurásp, Kai-khosráu, and Isfendiyár;
5751


## p. 5752 (#336) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5752
Gushtásp, Arjásp, and him of mighty name,-
Gúdarz, with eighty sons of martial fame!
-
The toil of thirty years is now complete,
Record sublime of many a warlike feat,
Written 'midst toil and trouble; but the strain
Awakens every heart, and will remain
A lasting stimulus to glorious deeds;
For even the bashful maid, who kindling reads,
Becomes a warrior. Thirty years of care,
Urged on by royal promise, did I bear,
And now, deceived and scorned, the aged bard
Is basely cheated of his pledged reward!
Version by J. Atkinson.
PRINCE SOHRÁB LEARNS OF HIS BIRTH, AND RESOLVES TO
FIND RUSTEM
From the Shāh Nāmah›
W
HEN nine slow-circling months had rolled away,
Sweet-smiling pleasure hailed the brightening day,
A wondrous boy Tahmineh's tears suppressed,
And lulled the sorrows of her heart to rest;
To him, predestined to be great and brave,
The name Sohráb his tender mother gave;
And as he grew, amazed the gathering throng
Viewed his large limbs, his sinews firm and strong.
His infant years no soft endearment claimed;
Athletic sports his eager soul inflamed;
Broad at the chest and taper round the loins,
Where to the rising hip the body joins;
Hunter and wrestler; and so great his speed,
He could o'ertake and hold the swiftest steed.
His noble aspect and majestic grace
Betrayed the offspring of a glorious race.
How, with a mother's ever-anxious love,
Still to retain him near her heart she strove!
For when the father's fond inquiry came,
Cautious she still concealed his birth and name,
And feigned a daughter born, the evil fraught
With misery to avert-but vain the thought:
Not many years had passed with downy flight,
Ere he, Tahmineh's wonder and delight,


## p. 5753 (#337) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5753
1
With glistening eye, and youthful ardor warm,
Filled her foreboding bosom with alarm.
"Oh, now relieve my heart! " he said; "declare
From whom I sprang, and breathe the vital air,
Since from my childhood I have ever been,
Amidst my playmates, of superior mien.
Should friend or foe demand my father's name,
Let not my silence testify my shame!
If still concealed, you falter, still delay,
A mother's blood shall wash the crime away. "
"This wrath forego," the mother answering cried,
"And joyful hear to whom thou art allied.
A glorious line precedes thy destined birth,-
The mightiest heroes of the sons of earth.
The deeds of Sám remotest realms admire,
And Zál, and Rustem thy illustrious sire! "
In private, then, she Rustem's letter placed
Before his view, and brought with eager haste
Three sparkling rubies, wedges three of gold,
From Persia sent. "Behold," she said, "behold
Thy father's gifts-will these thy doubts remove?
The costly pledges of paternal love!
Behold this bracelet charm, of sovereign power
To baffle fate in danger's awful hour:
But thou must still the perilous secret keep,
Nor ask the harvest of renown to reap;
For when, by this peculiar signet known,
Thy glorious father shall demand his son,
Doomed from her only joy in life to part,
O think what pangs will rend thy mother's heart!
Seek not the fame which only teems with woe:
Afrásiyáb is Rustem's deadliest foe!
And if by him discovered, him I dread,
Revenge will fall upon thy guiltless head. "
The youth replied:-"In vain thy sighs and tears;
The secret breathes, and mocks thy idle fears.
No human power can fate's decrees control,
Or check the kindled ardor of my soul.
Then why from me the bursting truth conceal?
My father's foes even now my vengeance feel;
Even now in wrath my native legions rise,
And sounds of desolation strike the skies;
i


## p. 5754 (#338) ###########################################

FIRDAUSI
5754
Káús himself, hurled from his ivory throne,
Shall yield to Rustem the imperial crown,
And thou my mother, still in triumph seen,
Of lovely Persia hailed the honored queen!
Then shall Túrán unite beneath my band,
And drive this proud oppressor from the land!
Father and son in virtuous league combined,
No savage despot shall enslave mankind;
When sun and moon o'er heaven refulgent blaze,
Shall little stars obtrude their feeble rays? "
He paused, and then: -"O mother, I must now
My father seek, and see his lofty brow;
Be mine a horse, such as a prince demands,
Fit for the dusty field, a warrior's hands;
Strong as an elephant his form should be,
And chested like the stag, in motion free,
And swift as bird, or fish; it would disgrace
A warrior bold on foot to show his face. "
The mother, seeing how his heart was bent,
His day-star rising in the firmament,
Commands the stables to be searched to find
Among the steeds one suited to his mind;
Pressing their backs, he tries their strength and nerve:
Bent double to the ground their bellies curve:
Not one, from neighboring plain and mountain brought,
Equals the wish with which his soul is fraught;
Fruitless on every side he anxious turns,
Fruitless, his brain with wild impatience burns:
But when at length they bring the destined steed,
From Rakush bred, of lightning's winged speed,
Fleet as the arrow from the bowstring flies,
Fleet as the eagle darting through the skies,
Rejoiced he springs, and with a nimble bound
Vaults in his seat and wheels the courser round:
"With such a horse, thus mounted, what remains?
Káús the Persian King no longer reigns! "
High-flushed he speaks, with youthful pride elate,
Eager to crush the monarch's glittering state;
He grasps his javelin with a hero's might,
And pants with ardor for the field of fight.