"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. Jemshid 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?"

Jemshid 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 Gureng 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 Jemshid is my wedded lord?"

After this precipitate avowal, the Kabul 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 Jemshid 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 Gureng. "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 p.r.o.nounced 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 Jemshid, the most perfect of mankind."

With this explanation the king expressed abundant and unusual satisfaction. His satisfaction, however, did not arise from the circ.u.mstance of the marriage, and the new connection it established, but from the opportunity it afforded him of betraying Jemshid, and treacherously sending him bound to Zohak, which he intended to do, in the hopes of being magnificently rewarded. Exulting with this antic.i.p.ation, 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 Jemshid in my power.

Now to Zohak, a captive bound, I send the wanderer thou hast found; For he who charms the monarch's eyes, With this long-sought, this n.o.ble prize, On solemn word and oath, obtains A wealthy kingdom for his pains."

On hearing these cruel words the damsel groaned, and wept exceedingly before her father, and said to him: "Oh, be not accessory to the murder of such a king! Wealth and kingdoms pa.s.s away, but a bad name remains till the day of doom.

"Turn thee, my father, from this dreadful thought, And save his sacred blood: let not thy name Be syllabled with horror through the world, For such an act as this. When foes are slain, It is enough, but keep the sword away From friends and kindred; shun domestic crime.

Fear him who giveth life, and strength, and power, For goodness is most blessed. On the day Of judgment thou wilt then be unappalled.

But if determined to divide us, first Smite off this head, and let thy daughter die."

So deep and violent was the grief of the princess, and her lamentations so unceasing, that the father became softened into compa.s.sion, and, on her account, departed from the resolution he had made. He even promised to furnish Jemshid with possessions, with treasure, and an army, and requested her to give him the consolation he required, adding that he would see him in the morning in his garden.

The heart-alluring damsel instant flew To tell the welcome tidings to her lord.

Next day King Gureng proceeded to the garden, and had an interview with Jemshid, to whom he expressed the warmest favor and affection; but notwithstanding all he said, Jemshid could place no confidence in his professions, and was anxious to effect his escape. He was, indeed, soon convinced of his danger, for he had a private intimation that the king's vizirs were consulting together on the expedience of securing his person, under the apprehension that Zohak would be invading the country, and consigning it to devastation and ruin, if his retreat was discovered. He therefore took to flight.

Jemshid first turned his steps towards Chin, and afterwards into Ind. He had travelled a great distance in that beautiful country, and one day came to a tower, under whose shadow he sought a little repose, for the thoughts of his melancholy and disastrous condition kept him almost constantly awake.

And am I thus to perish? Thus forlorn, To mingle with the dust? Almighty G.o.d!

Was ever mortal born to such a fate, A fate so sad as mine! O that I never Had drawn the breath of life, to perish thus!

Exhausted by the keenness of his affliction Jemshid at length fell asleep. Zohak, in the meanwhile, had despatched an envoy, with an escort of troops, to the Khakan of Chin, and at that moment the cavalcade happened to be pa.s.sing by the tower where Jemshid was reposing. The envoy, attracted to the spot, immediately recognized him, and awakening him to a sense of this new misfortune, secured the despairing and agonized wanderer, and sent him to Zohak.

He saw a person sleeping on the ground, And knew that it was Jemshid. Overjoyed, He bound his feet with chains, and mounted him Upon a horse, a prisoner.

What a world!

No place of rest for man! Fix not thy heart, Vain mortal! on this tenement of life, On earthly pleasures; think of Jemshid's fate; His glory reached the Heavens, and now this world Has bound the valiant monarch's limbs in fetters, And placed its justice in the hands of slaves.

When Zohak received intelligence of the apprehension of his enemy, he ordered him to be brought before the throne that he might enjoy the triumph.

All fixed their gaze upon the captive king, Loaded with chains; his hands behind his back; The ponderous fetters pa.s.sing from his neck Down to his feet; oppressed with shame he stood, Like the narcissus bent with heavy dew.

Zohak received him with a scornful smile, Saying, "Where is thy diadem, thy throne, Where is thy kingdom, where thy sovereign rule; Thy laws and royal ordinances--where, Where are they now? What change is this that fate Has wrought upon thee?" Jemshid thus rejoined: "Unjustly am I brought in chains before thee, Betrayed, insulted--thou the cause of all, And yet thou wouldst appear to feel my wrongs!"

Incensed at this defiance, mixed with scorn, Fiercely Zohak replied, "Then choose thy death; Shall I behead thee, stab thee, or impale thee, Or with an arrow's point transfix thy heart!

What is thy choice?"--

"Since I am in thy power, Do with me what thou wilt--why should I dread Thy utmost vengeance, why express a wish To save my body from a moment's pain!"

As soon as Zohak heard these words he resolved upon a horrible deed of vengeance. He ordered two planks to be brought, and Jemshid being fastened down between them, his body was divided the whole length with a saw, making two figures of Jemshid out of one!

Why do mankind upon this fleeting world Place their affections, wickedness alone Is nourished into freshness; sounds of death, too, Are ever on the gale to wear out life.

My heart is satisfied--O Heaven! no more, Free me at once from this continual sorrow.

It was not long before tidings of the foul proceedings, which put an end to the existence of the unfortunate Jemshid, reached Zabulistan. The princess, his wife, on hearing of his fate, wasted away with inconsolable grief, and at last took poison to unburden herself of insupportable affliction.

It is related that Jemshid had two sisters, named Shahrnaz and Arnawaz.

They had been both seized, and conveyed to Zohak by his people, and continued in confinement for some time in the King's harem, but they were afterwards released by Feridun.

The tyrant's cruelty and oppression had become intolerable. He was constantly shedding blood, and committing every species of crime.

The serpents still on human brains were fed, And every day two youthful victims bled; The sword, still ready--thirsting still to strike, Warrior and slave were sacrificed alike.

The career of Zohak himself, however, was not unvisited by terrors. One night he dreamt that he was attacked by three warriors; two of them of large stature, and one of them small. The youngest struck him a blow on the head with his mace, bound his hands, and casting a rope round his neck, dragged him along in the presence of crowds of people. Zohak screamed, and sprung up from his sleep in the greatest horror. The females of his harem were filled with amazement when they beheld the terrified countenance of the king who, in reply to their inquiries, said, trembling: "This is a dream too dreadful to be concealed." He afterwards called together the Mubids, or wise men of his court; and having communicated to them the particulars of what had appeared to him in his sleep, commanded them to give him a faithful interpretation of the dream. The Mubids foresaw in this vision the approaching declension of his power and dominion, but were afraid to explain their opinions, because they were sure that their lives would be sacrificed if the true interpretation was given to him. Three days were consumed under the pretence of studying more scrupulously all the signs and appearances, and still not one of them had courage to speak out. On the fourth day the king grew angry, and insisted upon the dream being interpreted. In this dilemma, the Mubids said, "Then, if the truth must be told, without evasion, thy life approaches to an end, and Feridun, though yet unborn, will be thy successor,"--"But who was it," inquired Zohak impatiently, "that struck the blow on my head?" The Mubids declared, with fear and trembling, "it was the apparition of Feridun himself, who is destined to smite thee on the head."--"But why," rejoined Zohak, "does he wish to injure me?"--"Because, his father's blood being spilt by thee, vengeance falls into his hands." Hearing this interpretation of his dream, the king sunk senseless on the ground; and when he recovered, he could neither sleep nor take food, but continued overwhelmed with sorrow and misery. The light of his day was forever darkened.

Abtin was the name of Feridun's father, and that of his mother Faranuk, of the race of Tahumers. Zohak, therefore, stimulated to further cruelty by the prophecy, issued an order that every person belonging to the family of the Kais, wherever found, should be seized and fettered, and brought to him. Abtin had long avoided discovery, continuing to reside in the most retired and solitary places; but one day his usual circ.u.mspection forsook him, and he ventured beyond his limits. This imprudent step was dreadfully punished, for the spies of Zohak fell in with him, recognized him, and carrying him to the king, he was immediately put to death. When the mother of Feridun heard of this sanguinary catastrophe, she took up her infant and fled. It is said that Feridun was at that time only two months old. In her flight, the mother happened to arrive at some pasturage ground. The keeper of the pasture had a cow named Pur'maieh, which yielded abundance of milk, and he gave it away in charity. In consequence of the grief and distress of mind occasioned by the murder of her husband, Faranuk's milk dried up in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and she was therefore under the necessity of feeding the child with the milk from the cow. She remained there one night, and would have departed in the morning; but considering the deficiency of milk, and the misery in which she was involved, continually afraid of being discovered and known, she did not know what to do. At length she thought it best to leave Feridun with the keeper of the pasture, and resigning him to the protection of G.o.d, went herself to the mountain Alberz. The keeper readily complied with the tenderest wishes of the mother, and nourished the child with the fondness and affection of a parent during the s.p.a.ce of three years. After that period had elapsed, deep sorrow continuing to afflict the mind of Faranuk, she returned secretly to the old man of the pasture, for the purpose of reclaiming and conveying Feridun to a safer place of refuge upon the mountain Alberz. The keeper said to her: "Why dost thou take the child to the mountain? he will perish there;" but she replied that G.o.d Almighty had inspired a feeling in her heart that it was necessary to remove him. It was a divine inspiration, and verified by the event.

Intelligence having at length reached Zohak that the son of Abtin was nourished and protected by the keeper of the pasture, he himself proceeded with a large force to the spot, where he put to death the keeper and all his tribe, and also the cow which had supplied milk to Feridun, whom he sought for in vain.

He found the dwelling of his infant-foe, And laid it in the dust; the very ground Was punished for the sustenance it gave him.

The ancient records relate that a dervish happened to have taken up his abode in the mountain Alberz, and that Faranuk committed her infant to his fostering care. The dervish generously divided with the mother and son all the food and comforts which G.o.d gave him, and at the same time he took great pains in storing the mind of Feridun with various kinds of knowledge. One day he said to the mother: "The person foretold by wise men and astrologers as the destroyer of Zohak and his tyranny, is thy son!

"This child to whom thou gavest birth, Will be the monarch of the earth;"

and the mother, from several concurring indications and signs, held a similar conviction.

When Feridun had attained his sixteenth year, he descended from the mountain, and remained for a time on the plain beneath. He inquired of his mother why Zohak had put his father to death, and Faranuk then told him the melancholy story; upon hearing which, he resolved to be revenged on the tyrant. His mother endeavored to divert him from his determination, observing that he was young, friendless, and alone, whilst his enemy was the master of the world, and surrounded by armies.

"Be not therefore precipitate," said she. "If it is thy destiny to become a king, wait till the Almighty shall bless thee with means sufficient for the purpose."

Displeased, the youth his mother's caution heard, And meditating vengeance on the head Of him who robbed him of a father, thus Impatiently replied:--"'Tis Heaven inspires me; Led on by Heaven, this arm will quickly bring The tyrant from his palace, to the dust."