The Persian Literature Volume I Part 2

Iblis replied, that he was master of still sweeter converse, but he could not address it to him, unless he first entered into a solemn compact, and engaged never on any pretence to divulge his secret.

Zohak in perfect innocence of heart a.s.sented to the oath, and bound himself Never to tell the secret; all he wished Was still to hear the good man's honey words.

But as soon as the oath was taken, Iblis said to him: "Thy father has become old and worthless, and thou art young, and wise, and valiant. Let him no longer stand in thy way, but kill him; the robes of sovereignty are ready, and better adapted for thee."

The youth in agony of mind, Heard what the stranger now designed; Could crime like this be understood!

The shedding of a parent's blood!

Iblis would no excuses hear-- The oath was sworn--his death was near.

"For if thou think'st to pa.s.s it by, The peril's thine, and thou must die!"

Zohak was terrified and subdued by this warning, and asked Iblis in what manner he proposed to sacrifice his father. Iblis replied, that he would dig a pit on the path-way which led to Mirtas-Tazi's house of prayer.

Accordingly he secretly made a deep well upon the spot most convenient for the purpose, and covered it over with gra.s.s. At night, as the king was going, as usual, to the house of prayer, he fell into the pit, and his legs and arms being broken by the fall, he shortly expired. O righteous Heaven! that father too, whose tenderness would not suffer even the winds to blow upon his son too roughly--and that son, by the temptation of Iblis, to bring such a father to a miserable end!

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

When Iblis found that he had got Zohak 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. Zohak agreed to every thing, and Iblis 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 Zohak the most delicious and savory food imaginable; for in those days bread and fruit only were the usual articles of food. Iblis himself was the original inventor of the cooking art. Zohak 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 Iblis 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 Iblis, "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. Zohak beheld Delighted the repast, and eagerly Relished its flavor; then in grat.i.tude, And admiration of the matchless art Which thus had ministered to his appet.i.te, He cried:--"For this, whatever thou desirest, And I can give, is thine." Iblis 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 Zohak comply, for he Was unsuspicious still, and stripped himself, Ready to gratify that simple wish.

Iblis 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 Iblis 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 Iblis returned to Zohak, 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. Zohak sunk into despair, upon the a.s.surance of there being no remedy for him, but Iblis 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, Iblis 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 G.o.d; and that the descendants of Adam are continually increasing.

When the people of Iran and Turan heard that Zohak kept near him two devouring serpents, alarm and terror spread everywhere, and so universal was the dread produced by this intelligence, that the n.o.bles of Persia were induced to abandon their allegiance to Jemshid, and, turning through fear to Zohak, confederated with the Arab troops against their own country. Jemshid 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 Zohak had gained The imperial crown, and from all acts and deeds Of royal import, razed out the very name Of Jemshid 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 Jemshid 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 Zabulistan.

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 Zabul.

The king of Zabulistan, whose name was Gureng, 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 Minuchihr, 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 Gureng 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,[1]

That binds thee to another's throne; In this my father has no voice, Thine the election, thine the choice.

The daughter of Gureng had a Kabul 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 Kabul 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 Jemshid, 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, Jemshid arrived at the city of Zabul in the spring season, when the roses were in bloom; and it so happened that the garden of King Gureng was in the way, and also that his daughter was amusing herself at the time in the garden. Jemshid proceeded in that direction, but the keepers of the garden would not allow him to pa.s.s, 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 Jemshid 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 Iran 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 Jemshid 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 Zabulistan, and I his only child; On me is all his fond affection shown; My wish is his, on me he dotes alone."

Jemshid 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 pa.s.sed-- 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 Jemshid 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 Jemshid, and she felt satisfied that her notions would soon be realized. At this moment she recollected that there was a picture of Jemshid 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 Jemshid, 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 Jemshid, "Point out which of them I shall hit, and I will bring it to the ground." Jemshid 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. Jemshid 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 a.s.sented. Jemshid 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 Jemshid, the son of Tahumers, called the Binder of Demons." Then she took the bow from the hand of Jemshid, 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?" Jemshid instantly understood her meaning. At that moment the Kabul nurse appeared, and the young princess communicated to her all that had occurred. The nurse leisurely examined Jemshid 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. G.o.d has brought Jemshid 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 Jemshid 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 Jemshid's hand. Jemshid, 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?" Jemshid replied: "No, it is simply this; those who have feeling, and pity the sufferings of others, weep involuntarily. I pity the misfortunes of Jemshid, driven as he is by adversity from the splendor of a throne, and reduced to a state of dest.i.tution 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 Jemshid himself, and taking him aside, they said: "Speak truly, art thou not Jemshid?" But he denied himself. Again, they observed: "What says this picture?" To this he replied; "It is not impossible that I may be like Jemshid 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 Jemshid to confess, he still resolutely denied himself. Several times she a.s.sured him she would keep his secret, if he had one, but that she was certain of his being Jemshid. 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 Jemshid, 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 Jemshid, and then resumed:--