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 pass it by,

The peril's thine, and thou must die!"

Zohák 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 Mirtás-Tází's house of prayer. Accordingly he secretly made a deep well upon the spot most convenient for the purpose, and covered it over with grass. 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,
Zohák usurped his pious father's throne.

When Iblis found that he had got Zohák 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. Zohák 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 Zohák 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. Zohák 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."

66

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. Zohák beheld
Delighted the repast, and eagerly
Relished its flavor; then in gratitude,
And admiration of the matchless art
Which thus had ministered to his appetite,
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 Zohák 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 Zohák, 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. Zohák sunk into despair, upon the assurance 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 God; and that the descendants of Adam are continually

increasing.

When the people of Irán and Túrán heard that Zohák kept near him two devouring serpents, alarm and terror spread everywhere, and so universal was the dread produced by this intelligence, that the nobles of Persia were induced to abandon their allegiance to Jemshid, and, turning through fear to Zohák, 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 Zohák 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 Zábulistán.

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 Zábul.

The king of Zábulistán, whose name was Gúreng, 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 Minúchihr, 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 Gúreng 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,*

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

The daughter of Gúreng had a Kábul 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 Kábul 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,

* Love at first sight, and of the most enthusiastic kind, is the passion described in all Persian poems, as if a whole life of love were condensed into one moment. It is all wild and rapturous. It has nothing of a rational cast. A casual glance from an unknown beauty often affords the subject of a poem. The poets whom Dr. Johnson has denominated metaphysical, such as Donne, Jonson, and Cowley, bear a strong resemblance to the Persians on the subject of love.

Now, sure, within this twelvemonth past,

I've loved at least some twenty years or more;

Th' account of love runs much more fast,

VOL. I.-2

Than that with which our life does

score:

So, though my life be short, yet I may

prove,

The Great Methusalem of love! ! ! "Love and Life."-Cowley.

The odes of Hafiz also, with all their
spirit and richness of expression,
abound in conceit and extravagant
metaphor. There is, however, some-
thing very beautiful in the passage
which may be paraphrased thus:

Zephyr thro' thy locks is straying,
Stealing fragrance, charms displaying;
Should it pass where Hafiz lies,

From his conscious dust would rise,
Flowrets of a thousand dyes!

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, Jemshíd arrived at the city of Zábul in the spring season, when the roses were in bloom; and it so happened that the garden of King Gúreng 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 pass, 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 Irán

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.