Chapter 6

His hair was white as goose's wing, His cheek was like the rose of spring His form was straight as cypress tree-- But when the sire was brought to see That child with hair so silvery white, His heart revolted at the sight.

His mother gave him the name of Zál and the people said to Sám, "This is an ominous event, and will be to thee productive of nothing but calamity; it would be better if thou couldst remove him out of sight.

"No human being of this earth Could give to such a monster birth; He must be of the Demon race, Though human still in form and face. If not a Demon, he, at least, Appears a party-coloured beast."

When Sám was made acquainted with these reproaches and sneers of the people, he determined, though with a sorrowful heart, to take him up to the mountain Alberz, and abandon him there to be destroyed by beasts of prey. Alberz was the abode of the Símúrgh or Griffin,[4] and, whilst flying about in quest of food for his hungry young ones, that surprising animal discovered the child lying alone upon the hard rock, crying and sucking its fingers. The Símúrgh, however, felt no inclination to devour him, but compassionately took him up in the air, and conveyed him to his own habitation.

He who is blest with Heaven's grace Will never want a dwelling-place And he who bears the curse of Fate Can never change his wretched state. A voice, not earthly, thus addressed The Símúrgh in his mountain nest-- "To thee this mortal I resign, Protected by the power divine; Let him thy fostering kindness share, Nourish him with paternal care; For from his loins, in time, will spring The champion of the world, and bring Honour on earth, and to thy name; The heir of everlasting fame."

The young ones were also kind and affectionate to the infant, which was thus nourished and protected by the Símúrgh for several years.

THE DREAM OF SÁM

It is said that one night, after melancholy musings and reflecting on the miseries of this life, Sám was visited by a dream, and when the particulars of it were communicated to the interpreters of mysterious warnings and omens, they declared that Zál was certainly still alive, although he had been long exposed on Alberz, and left there to be torn to pieces by wild animals. Upon this interpretation being given, the natural feelings of the father returned, and he sent his people to the mountain in search of Zál, but without success. On another night Sám dreamt a second time, when he beheld a young man of a beautiful countenance at the head of an immense army, with a banner flying before him, and a Múbid on his left hand. One of them addressed Sám, and reproached him thus:--

Unfeeling mortal, hast thou from thy eyes Washed out all sense of shame? Dost thou believe That to have silvery tresses is a crime? If so, thy head is covered with white hair; And were not both spontaneous gifts from Heaven? Although the boy was hateful to thy sight, The grace of God has been bestowed upon him; And what is human tenderness and love To Heaven's protection? Thou to him wert cruel, But Heaven has blest him, shielding him from harm.

Sám screamed aloud in his sleep, and awoke greatly terrified. Without delay he went himself to Alberz, and ascended the mountain, and wept and prayed before the throne of the Almighty, saying:--

"If that forsaken child be truly mine, And not the progeny of Demon fell, O pity me! forgive the wicked deed, And to my eyes, my injured son restore."

His prayer was accepted. The Símúrgh, hearing the lamentations of Sám among his people, knew that he had come in quest of his son, and thus said to Zál:--"I have fed and protected thee like a kind nurse, and I have given thee the name of Dustán, like a father. Sám, the warrior, has just come upon the mountain in search of his child, and I must restore thee to him, and we must part." Zál wept when he heard of this unexpected separation, and in strong terms expressed his gratitude to his benefactor; for the Wonderful Bird had not omitted to teach him the language of the country, and to cultivate his understanding, removed as they were to such a distance from the haunts of mankind. The Símúrgh soothed him by assuring him that he was not going to abandon him to misfortune, but to increase his prosperity; and, as a striking proof of affection, gave him a feather from his own wing, with these instructions:--"Whenever thou art involved in difficulty or danger, put this feather on the fire, and I will instantly appear to thee to ensure thy safety. Never cease to remember me.

"I have watched thee with fondness by day and by night, And supplied all thy wants with a father's delight; O forget not thy nurse--still be faithful to me-- And my heart will be ever devoted to thee."

Zál immediately replied in a strain of gratitude and admiration; and then the Símúrgh conveyed him to Sám, and said to him: "Receive thy son--he is of wonderful promise, and will be worthy of the throne and the diadem."

The soul of Sám rejoiced to hear Applause so sweet to a parent's ear; And blessed them both in thought and word, The lovely boy, and the Wondrous Bird.

He also declared to Zál that he was ashamed of the crime of which he had been guilty, and that he would endeavor to obliterate the recollection of the past by treating him in future with the utmost respect and honor.

When Minúchihr heard from Zábul of these things, and of Sám's return, he was exceedingly pleased, and ordered his son, Nauder, with a splendid istakbál,[5] to meet the father and son on their approach to the city. They were surrounded by warriors and great men, and Sám embraced the first moment to introduce Zál to the king.

Zál humbly kissed the earth before the king, And from the hands of Minúchihr received A golden mace and helm. Then those who knew The stars and planetary signs, were told To calculate the stripling's destiny; And all proclaimed him of exalted fortune, That he would be prodigious in his might, Outshining every warrior of the age.

Delighted with this information, Minúchihr, seated upon his throne, with Kárun on one side and Sám on the other, presented Zál with Arabian horses, and armor, and gold, and splendid garments, and appointed Sám to the government of Kábul, Zábul, and Ind. Zál accompanied his father on his return; and when they arrived at Zábulistán, the most renowned instructors in every art and science were collected together to cultivate and enrich his young mind.

In the meantime Sám was commanded by the king to invade and subdue the Demon provinces of Karugsár and Mázinderán;[6] and Zál was in consequence left by his father in charge of Zábulistán. The young nursling of the Símúrgh is said to have performed the duties of sovereignty with admirable wisdom and discretion, during the absence of his father. He did not pass his time in idle exercises, but with zealous delight in the society of accomplished and learned men, for the purpose of becoming familiar with every species of knowledge and acquirement. The city of Zábul, however, as a constant residence, did not entirely satisfy him, and he wished to see more of the world; he therefore visited several other places, and proceeded as far as Kábul, where he pitched his tents, and remained for some time.

RÚDÁBEH

The chief of Kábul was descended from the family of Zohák. He was named Mihráb, and to secure the safety of his state, paid annual tribute to Sám. Mihráb, on the arrival of Zál, went out of the city to see him, and was hospitably entertained by the young hero, who soon discovered that he had a daughter of wonderful attractions.

Her name Rúdábeh; screened from public view, Her countenance is brilliant as the sun; From head to foot her lovely form is fair As polished ivory. Like the spring, her cheek Presents a radiant bloom,--in stature tall, And o'er her silvery brightness, richly flow Dark musky ringlets clustering to her feet. She blushes like the rich pomegranate flower; Her eyes are soft and sweet as the narcissus, Her lashes from the raven's jetty plume Have stolen their blackness, and her brows are bent Like archer's bow. Ask ye to see the moon? Look at her face. Seek ye for musky fragrance? She is all sweetness. Her long fingers seem Pencils of silver, and so beautiful Her presence, that she breathes of Heaven and love.

Such was the description of Rúdábeh, which inspired the heart of Zál with the most violent affection, and imagination added to her charms.

Mihráb again waited on Zál, who received him graciously, and asked him in what manner he could promote his wishes. Mihráb said that he only desired him to become his guest at a banquet he intended to invite him to; but Zál thought proper to refuse, because he well knew, if he accepted an invitation of the kind from a relation of Zohák, that his father Sám and the King of Persia would be offended. Mihráb returned to Kábul disappointed, and having gone into his harem, his wife, Síndokht, inquired after the stranger from Zábul, the white-headed son of Sám. She wished to know what he was like, in form and feature, and what account he gave of his sojourn with the Símúrgh. Mihráb described him in the warmest terms of admiration--he was valiant, he said, accomplished and handsome, with no other defect than that of white hair. And so boundless was his praise, that Rúdábeh, who was present, drank every word with avidity, and felt her own heart warmed into admiration and love. Full of emotion, she afterwards said privately to her attendants:

"To you alone the secret of my heart I now unfold; to you alone confess The deep sensations of my captive soul. I love, I love; all day and night of him I think alone--I see him in my dreams-- You only know my secret--aid me now, And soothe the sorrows of my bursting heart."

The attendants were startled with this confession and entreaty, and ventured to remonstrate against so preposterous an attachment.

"What! hast thou lost all sense of shame, All value for thy honored name! That thou, in loveliness supreme, Of every tongue the constant theme, Should choose, and on another's word. The nursling of a Mountain Bird! A being never seen before, Which human mother never bore! And can the hoary locks of age, A youthful heart like thine engage? Must thy enchanting form be prest To such a dubious monster's breast? And all thy beauty's rich array, Thy peerless charms be thrown away?"

This violent remonstrance was more calculated to rouse the indignation of Rúdábeh than to induce her to change her mind. It did so. But she subdued her resentment, and again dwelt upon the ardor of her passion.

"My attachment is fixed, my election is made, And when hearts are enchained 'tis in vain to upbraid. Neither Kízar nor Faghfúr I wish to behold, Nor the monarch of Persia with jewels and gold; All, all I despise, save the choice of my heart, And from his beloved image I never can part. Call him aged, or young, 'tis a fruitless endeavour To uproot a desire I must cherish for ever; Call him old, call him young, who can passion control? Ever present, and loved, he entrances my soul. 'Tis for him I exist--him I worship alone, And my heart it must bleed till I call him my own."

As soon as the attendants found that Rúdábeh's attachment was deeply fixed, and not to be removed, they changed their purpose, and became obedient to her wishes, anxious to pursue any measure that might bring Zál and their mistress together. Rúdábeh was delighted with this proof of their regard.

It was spring-time, and the attendants repaired towards the halting-place of Zál, in the neighborhood of the city. Their occupation seemed to be gathering roses along the romantic banks of a pellucid streamlet, and when they purposely strayed opposite the tent of Zál, he observed them, and asked his friends--why they presumed to gather roses in his garden. He was told that they were damsels sent by the moon of Kábulistán from the palace of Mihráb to gather roses, and upon hearing this his heart was touched with emotion. He rose up and rambled about for amusement, keeping the direction of the river, followed by a servant with a bow. He was not far from the damsels, when a bird sprung up from the water, which he shot, upon the wing, with an arrow. The bird happened to fall near the rose-gatherers, and Zál ordered his servant to bring it to him. The attendants of Rúdábeh lost not the opportunity, as he approached them, to inquire who the archer was. "Know ye not," answered the servant, "that this is Ním-rúz, the son of Sám, and also called Dustán, the greatest warrior ever known." At this the damsels smiled, and said that they too belonged to a person of distinction--and not of inferior worth--to a star in the palace of Mihráb. "We have come from Kábul to the King of Zábulistán, and should Zál and Rúdábeh be of equal rank, her ruby lips may become acquainted with his, and their wished-for union be effected." When the servant returned, Zál was immediately informed of the conversation that had taken place, and in consequence presents were prepared.

They who to gather roses came--went back With precious gems--and honorary robes; And two bright finger-rings were secretly Sent to the princess.

Then did the attendants of Rúdábeh exult in the success of their artifice, and say that the lion had come into their toils. Rúdábeh herself, however, had some fears on the subject. She anxiously sought to know exactly the personal appearance of Zál, and happily her warmest hopes were realized by the description she received. But one difficulty remained--how were they to meet? How was she to see with her own eyes the man whom her fancy had depicted in such glowing colors? Her attendants, sufficiently expert at intrigue, soon contrived the means of gratifying her wishes. There was a beautiful rural retreat in a sequestered situation, the apartments of which were adorned with pictures of great men, and ornamented in the most splendid manner. To this favorite place Rúdábeh retired, and most magnificently dressed, awaiting the coming of Zál, whom her attendants had previously invited to repair thither as soon as the sun had gone down. The shadows of evening were falling as he approached, and the enamoured princess thus addressed him from her balcony:--

"May happiness attend thee ever, thou, Whose lucid features make this gloomy night Clear as the day; whose perfume scents the breeze; Thou who, regardless of fatigue, hast come On foot too, thus to see me--"

Hearing a sweet voice, he looked up, and beheld a bright face in the balcony, and he said to the beautiful vision:--

"How often have I hoped that Heaven Would, in some secret place display Thy charms to me, and thou hast given My heart the wish of many a day; For now thy gentle voice I hear, And now I see thee--speak again! Speak freely in a willing ear, And every wish thou hast obtain."

Not a word was lost upon Rúdábeh, and she soon accomplished her object. Her hair was so luxuriant, and of such a length, that casting it loose it flowed down from the balcony; and, after fastening the upper part to a ring, she requested Zál to take hold of the other end and mount up. He ardently kissed the musky tresses, and by them quickly ascended.

Then hand in hand within the chambers they Gracefully passed.--Attractive was the scene, The walls embellished by the painter's skill, And every object exquisitely formed, Sculpture, and architectural ornament, Fit for a king. Zál with amazement gazed Upon what art had done, but more he gazed Upon the witching radiance of his love, Upon her tulip cheeks, her musky locks, Breathing the sweetness of a summer garden; Upon the sparkling brightness of her rings, Necklace, and bracelets, glittering on her arms. His mien too was majestic--on his head He wore a ruby crown, and near his breast Was seen a belted dagger. Fondly she With side-long glances marked his noble aspect, The fine proportions of his graceful limbs, His strength and beauty. Her enamoured heart Suffused her cheek with blushes, every glance Increased the ardent transports of her soul. So mild was his demeanour, he appeared A gentle lion toying with his prey. Long they remained rapt in admiration Of each other. At length the warrior rose, And thus addressed her: "It becomes not us To be forgetful of the path of prudence, Though love would dictate a more ardent course, How oft has Sám, my father, counselled me, Against unseeming thoughts,--unseemly deeds,-- Always to choose the right, and shun the wrong. How will he burn with anger when he hears This new adventure; how will Minúchihr Indignantly reproach me for this dream! This waking dream of rapture! but I call High Heaven to witness what I now declare-- Whoever may oppose my sacred vows, I still am thine, affianced thine, for ever."

And thus Rúdábeh: "Thou hast won my heart, And kings may sue in vain; to thee devoted, Thou art alone my warrior and my love." Thus they exclaimed,--then Zál with fond adieus Softly descended from the balcony, And hastened to his tent.

As speedily as possible he assembled together his counsellors and Múbids to obtain their advice on the present extraordinary occasion, and he represented to them the sacred importance of encouraging matrimonial alliances.

For marriage is a contract sealed by Heaven-- How happy is the Warrior's lot, amidst His smiling children; when he dies, his son Succeeds him, and enjoys his rank and name. And is it not a glorious thing to say-- This is the son of Zál, or this of Sám, The heir of his renowned progenitor?

He then related to them the story of his love and affection for the daughter of Mihráb; but the Múbids, well knowing that the chief of Kábul was of the family of Zohák, the serpent-king, did not approve the union desired, which excited the indignation of Zál. They, however, recommended his writing a letter to Sám, who might, if he thought proper, refer the matter to Minúchihr. The letter was accordingly written and despatched, and when Sám received it, he immediately referred the question to his astrologers, to know whether the nuptials, if solemnized between Zál and Rúdábeh, would be prosperous or not. They foretold that the nuptials would be prosperous, and that the issue would be a son of wonderful strength and power, the conqueror of the world. This announcement delighted the heart of the old warrior, and he sent the messenger back with the assurance of his approbation of the proposed union, but requested that the subject might be kept concealed till he returned with his army from the expedition to Karugsár, and was able to consult with Minúchihr.

Zál, exulting at his success, communicated the glad tidings to Rúdábeh by their female emissary, who had hitherto carried on successfully the correspondence between them. But as she was conveying an answer to this welcome news, and some presents to Zál, Síndokht, the mother of Rúdábeh, detected her, and, examining the contents of the packet, she found sufficient evidence, she thought, of something wrong.

"What treachery is this? What have we here! Sirbund and male attire? Thou, wretch, confess! Disclose thy secret doings."

The emissary, however, betrayed nothing; but declared that she was a dealer in jewels and dresses, and had been only showing her merchandise to Rúdábeh. Síndokht, in extreme agitation of mind, hastened to her daughter's apartment to ascertain the particulars of this affair, when Rúdábeh at once fearlessly acknowledged her unalterable affection for Zál,

"I love him so devotedly, all day, All night my tears have flowed unceasingly; And one hair of his head I prize more dearly Than all the world beside; for him I live; And we have met, and we have sat together, And pledged our mutual love with mutual joy And innocence of heart."

Rúdábeh further informed her of Sám's consent to their nuptials, which in some degree satisfied the mother. But when Mihráb was made acquainted with the arrangement, his rage was unbounded, for he dreaded the resentment of Sám and Minúchihr when the circumstances became fully known to them. Trembling with indignation he drew his dagger, and would have instantly rushed to Rúdábeh's chamber to destroy her, had not Síndokht fallen at his feet and restrained him. He insisted, however, on her being brought before him; and upon his promise not to do her any harm, Síndokht complied. Rúdábeh disdained to take off her ornaments to appear as an offender and a supplicant, but, proud of her choice, went into her father's presence, gayly adorned with jewels, and in splendid apparel. Mihráb received her with surprise.

"Why all this glittering finery? Is the devil United to an angel? When a snake Is met with in Arabia, it is killed!"

But Rúdábeh answered not a word, and was permitted to retire with her mother.

When Minúchihr was apprised of the proceedings between Zál and Rúdábeh, he was deeply concerned, anticipating nothing but confusion and ruin to Persia from the united influence of Zál and Mihráb. Feridún had purified the world from the abominations of Zohák, and as Mihráb was a descendant of that merciless tyrant, he feared that some attempt would be made to resume the enormities of former times; Sám was therefore required to give his advice on the occasion.

The conqueror of Karugsár and Mázinderán was received on his return with cordial rejoicings, and he charmed the king with the story of his triumphant success. The monarch against whom he had fought was descended, on the mother's side, from Zohák, and his Demon army was more numerous than ants, or clouds of locusts, covering mountain and plain. Sám thus proceeded in his description of the conflict.

"And when he heard my voice, and saw what deeds I had performed, approaching me, he threw His noose; but downward bending I escaped, And with my bow I showered upon his head Steel-pointed arrows, piercing through the brain; Then did I grasp his loins, and from his horse Cast him upon the ground, deprived of life. At this, the demons terrified and pale, Shrunk back, some flying to the mountain wilds, And others, taken on the battle-field, Became obedient to the Persian king."

Minúchihr, gratified by this result of the expedition, appointed Sám to a new enterprise, which was to destroy Kábul by fire and sword, especially the house of Mihráb; and that ruler, of the serpent-race, and all his adherents were to be put to death. Sám, before he took leave to return to his own government at Zábul, tried to dissuade him from this violent exercise of revenge, but without making any sensible impression upon him.

Meanwhile the vindictive intentions of Minúchihr, which were soon known at Kábul, produced the greatest alarm and consternation in the family of Mihráb. Zál now returned to his father, and Sám sent a letter to Minúchihr, again to deprecate his wrath, and appointed Zál the messenger. In this letter Sám enumerates his services at Karugsár and Mázinderán, and especially dwells upon the destruction of a prodigious dragon.