After this precipitate avowal, the Kábul 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 Jemshíd into his kingdom, the princess, cording to the same planetary influence, would shortly become a mother.

And now the damsel grovels on the ground

Before king Gúreng. "Well thou know'st," she cries,
"From me no evil comes. Whether in arms,
Or at the banquet, honour guides me still :
And well thou know'st thy royal will pronounced
That I should be unfettered in my choice,
And free to take the husband I preferred.
This I have done; and to the greatest king
The world can boast, my fortunes are unite 1,
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 circumstance of the marriage, and the new connection it established, but from the opportunity it afforded him of betraying Jemshíd, and treacherously sending him bound to Zohák, which he intended to do, in the hopes of being magnificently rewarded. Exulting with this anticipation, he said to her smiling:

Glad tidings thou hast given to me,
My glory owes its birth to thee;
I bless the day, and bless the hour,
Which placed this Jemshid in my power.
Now to Zohák, a captive bound,

I send the wanderer thou hast found;
For he who charms the monarch's eyes,
With this long-sought, this noble prize,
On solemn word and oath, obtains

A wealthy kingdom for his pains."

On hearing these cruel words the damsel groaned, and wept exceedingly before her father, and said to him: "O, be not accessory to the murder of such a king! Wealth and kingdoms pass 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 compassion, 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 Gúreng proceeded to the garden, and had an interview with Jemshid, to whom he expressed the warmest favour 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 vizírs were consulting together on the expedience of securing his person, under the apprehension that Zohák would be invading the country, and consigning it to devastation and ruin, if his retreat was discovered. He therefore took to flight.

Jemshíd first turned his steps towards Chín, 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.

Exhausted by the keenness of his affliction Jemshíd at length fell asleep. Zoha, in the meanwhile, had despatched an envoy, with an escort of troops, to the Khakán of Chín, and at that moment the cavalcade happened to be passing 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 Zohák.

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 Zohák 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 passing from his neck
Down to his feet; oppressed with shame he stood,
Like the narcissus bent with heavy dew.
Zohák 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 Zohák 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 Zohák 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 Zábulistán. The princess, his wife, on hearing of his fate, wasted away with inconsolable grief, and at last took poison to unburthen herself of insupportable affliction.

It is related that Jemshíd had two sisters, named Shahrnáz and Arnawáz. They had been both seized, and conveyed to Zohák by his people, and continued in confinement for some

time in the King's harem, but they were afterwards released by Feridún.

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 Zohák 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. Zohák 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 Múbids, 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 Múbids 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 Múbids said, "Then, if the truth must be told, without evasion, thy life approaches to an end, and Feridún, though yet unborn, will be thy successor."-" But who was it," enquired Zohák impatiently, "that struck the blow on my head?" The Múbids declared, with fear and trembling,