soldier, armed with a long staff, was at an appointed signal, to pierce the belly of the horse and also of the rider, previously filled with combustibles, so that when the ignited point came in contact with them, the whole engine would make a tremendous explosion and blaze in the air. Sikander approved of this invention, and collected all the blacksmiths and artizans in the country to construct a thousand machines of this description with the utmost expedition, and as soon as they were completed, he prepared for action. Faúr too pushed forward with his two thousand elephants in advance; but when the Kanújians beheld such a formidable array they were surprised, and Faúr anxiously inquired from his spies what it could be. Upon being told that it was Sikander's artillery, his troops pushed the elephants against the enemy with vigour, at which moment the combustibles were fired by the Rúmís, and the machinery exploding, many elephants were burnt and destroyed, and the remainder, with the troops, fled in confusion. Sikander then encountered Faúr, and after a severe contest, slew him, and became ruler of the kingdom of Kanúj.

After the conquest of Kanúj, Sikander went to Mekka, carrying thither rich presents and offerings. From thence he proceeded to another city, where he was received with great homage by the most illustrious of the nation. He inquired of them if there was anything wonderful or extraordinary in their country, that he might go to see it, and they replied that there were two trees in the kingdom, one a male, the other a female, from which a voice proceeded. The male-tree spoke in the day, and the female-tree in the night, and whoever had a wish, went thither to have his desires accomplished. Sikander immediately repaired to the spot, and approaching it, he hoped in his heart that a considerable part of his life still remained to be enjoyed. When he came under the tree, a terrible sound arose and rung in his ears, and he asked the people present what it meant. The attendant priest said it implied that fourteen years of his life still remained. Sikander, at this interpretation of the prophetic sound, wept, and the burning tears ran down

his cheeks. Again he asked, "Shall I return to Rúm, and see my mother and children before I die?" and the answer was, "Thou wilt die at Kashan.*

Nor mother, nor thy family at home

Wilt thou behold again, for thou wilt die,
Closing thy course of glory at Kashan."

Sikander left the place in sorrow, and pursued his way towards Rúm. In his progress he arrived at another city, and the inhabitants gave him the most honourable welcome, representing to him, however, that they were dreadfully afflicted by the presence of two demons or giants, who constantly assailed them in the night, devouring men and goats and whatever came in their way. Sikander asked their names; and they replied, Yájúj and Májúj (Gog and Magog). He immediately ordered a barrier to be erected five hundred yards high, and three hundred yards wide, and when it was finished he went away. The giants, notwithstanding all their efforts, were unable to scale this barrier, and in consequence the inhabitants pursued their occupations without the fear of molestation.

To scenes of noble daring still he turned
His ardent spirit-for he knew not fear.
Still he led on his legions-and now came

To a strange place, where countless numbers met
His wondering view-countless inhabitants
Crowding the city streets, and neighbouring plains;
And in the distance presently he saw

A lofty mountain reaching to the stars.
Onward proceeding, at its foot he found
A guardian-dragon, terrible in form,
Ready with open jaws to crush his victim;
But unappalled, Sikander him beholding
With steady eye, which scorned to turn aside,
Sprang forward, and at once the monster slew.

Ascending then the mountain, many a ridge,
Oft resting on the way, he reached the summit,
Where the dead corse of an old saint appeared

* Kashán is here made to be the death-place of Alexander, whilst, according to the Greek historians, he died suddenly at Babylon, as foretold by the magicians, on the 21st April, B.C. 323, in the 32nd year of his age.

*

Z

Wrapt in his grave-clothes, and in gems imbedded.
In gold and precious jewels glittering round,
Seeming to show what man is, mortal man!
Wealth, worldly pomp, the baubles of ambition,
All left behind, himself a heap of dust!

None ever went upon that mountain top,
But sought for knowledge; and Sikander hoped
When he had reached its cloudy eminence,
To see the visions of futurity

Arise from that departed, holy man !

And soon he heard a voice: "Thy time is nigh!
Yet may I thy career on earth unfold.

It will be thine to conquer many a realm,

Win many a crown; thou wilt have many friends
And numerous foes, and thy devoted head
Will be uplifted to the very heavens.
Renowned and glorious shalt thou be; thy name
Immortal; but, alas! thy time is nigh!"

At these prophetic words Sikander wept,

And from that ominous mountain hastened down.

After that Sikander journeyed on to the city of Kashán, where he fell sick, and in a few days, according to the oracle and the prophecy, expired. He had scarcely breathed his last, when Aristú, and Bilniyas the physician, and his family, entered Kashán, and found him dead. They beat their faces, and tore their hair, and mourned for him forty days.

The remainder of the Shah Námeh contains nothing striking either in a poetical or historical point of view, and indeed presents little more than an enumeration of the kings who reigned in Persia from the time of Sikander to that of Yesdjird, embracing among others, the names of Ardshír, Shahpur, Bahram Gór, Núsherván, and Khosrú Purvíz.

FIRDAUSI'S INVOCATION.

THEE I invoke, the Lord of Life and Light!
Beyond imagination pure and bright!

To thee, sufficing praise no tongue can give,
We are thy creatures, and in thee we live!
Thou art the summit, depth, the all in all,
Creator, Guardian of this earthly ball;
Whatever is, thou art-Protector, King,
From thee all goodness, truth, and mercy spring.
O pardon the misdeeds of him who now
Bends in thy presence with a suppliant brow.
Teach him to tread the path thy Prophet trod;
To wash his heart from sin, to know his God;
And gently lead him to that home of rest,
Where filled with holiest rapture dwell the blest.

Saith not that book divine, from Heaven supplied, "Mustafa is the true, the unerring guide, The purest, greatest Prophet!" Next him came Wise Abú Buker, of unblemished name; Then Omer taught the faith, unknown to guile, And made the world with vernal freshness smile; Then Othmán brave th' imperial priesthood graced; All, led by him, the Prophet's faith embraced. The fourth was Alí; he, the spouse adored Of Fatima, then spread the saving word. Alí, of whom Mahommed spoke elate, "I am the city of knowledge-he my gate." Alí the blest. Whoever shall recline A supplicant at his all-powerful shrine, Enjoys both this life and the next; in this, All earthly good, in that, eternal bliss!

From records true my legends I rehearse,

And string the pearls of wisdom in my verse,
That in the glimmering days of life's decline,
Its fruits, in wealth and honour, may be mine.
My verse, a structure pointing to the skies;
Whose solid strength destroying time defies.
All praise the noble work, save only those
Of impious life, or base malignant foes;
All blest with learning read, and read again, (
The sovereign smiles, and thus approves my strain:
"Richer by far, Firdausí, than a mine

Of precious gems, is this bright lay of thine."
Centuries may pass away, but still my page
Will be the boast of each succeeding age.

Praise, praise to Máhmúd, who of like renown, In battle or the banquet, fills the throne; Lord of the realms of Chín and Hindústan, Sovereign and Lord of Persia and Túrán, With his loud voice he rends the flintiest ear; On land a tiger fierce, untouched by fear, And on the wave, he seems the crocodile That prowls amidst the waters of the Nile. Generous and brave, his equal is unknown; In deeds of princely worth he stands alone. The infant in the cradle lisps his name; The world exults in Máhmúd's spotless fame. In festive hours Heaven smiles upon his truth; In combat deadly as the dragon's tooth; Bounteous in all things, his exhaustless hand. Diffuses blessings through the grateful land; And, of the noblest thoughts and actions, lord; The soul of Gabriel breathes in every word. May Heaven with added glory crown his days; Praise, praise to mighty Mahmud-everlasting praise!