Persian Servants—Departure from Shiraz—Persepolis—Tale of the Labours of Roostem—Anecdote of a Sportsman.

The formation of the Elchee's establishment, which had commenced at Abusheher, was completed at Shiraz. Servants of every description were hired; and in all cases the preference was given to those who had been on our first mission; when such were dead, that was transferred to their brothers, sons, or near relations.

The Persians are more than good-looking, they are a handsome race of men. All the public and private servants of the mission were dressed in silk and cloth tunics, with new lamb's-wool caps, many with silk and some with shawl waistbands; besides, they were all clean, and had their beards well-trimmed for the occasion, knowing that, to those who pretend to figure in the train of an Elchee, personal appearance is of no slight consequence.

Thus attended, we proceeded towards the footstool of royalty. Nine splendidly dressed JelloodÂrs or grooms, under the direction of a Meer-Akhoor, or master of the horse, led nine beautiful horses, richly caparisoned, with saddles and bridles finely ornamented with gold and silver. Next came eight ShÂtirs, or running footmen, dressed in tunics of yellow cloth, trimmed with silver; and then the Elchee and suite, followed by a large escort of cavalry, with kettle-drums and trumpets. On the flanks of this state-line of march were all kinds of MeerzÂs,[49] or secretaries, and attendants. Amongst the most essential of the latter were the Paish-Khidmets, or personal servants, who prepared kelliÂns, or pipes for the Elchee and the gentlemen of his train. These were mounted, and carried before them, fixed like holsters, two large cases which contained their kelliÂns, and all the implements thereunto appertaining. The most extraordinary part of their equipment was two small iron chafing-dishes filled with charcoal, which hung by chains, dangling below their stirrups. From these grates they lighted the kelliÂn, which they held in their hands, presenting their masters with the end of a long pliant tube, through which the latter smoked, while the Paish-Khidmets rode a few paces in the rear.

Our cavalcade always preserved the same order even during our long night-marches, the tediousness of which suggested that our party wanted a minstrel to shorten the distance by tales of wonder. This want was no sooner hinted, than an old groom, called Joozee Beg, came forward and offered his services. He belonged, he said, to the Zend tribe, and when its chiefs were kings of Persia he was not neglected. "MoorÂd Ali Khan, and Lootf Ali Khan, that miracle of valour," said old Joozee Beg, "have listened to my voice, when it was exerted to animate[50] their followers to battle; but these days are gone; a Turkish family wears the crown of Iran;[51] I am, like others of my race, in indigence and obscurity, and now recite verses, which princes loved to hear, to men like myself of low degree; but if the Elchee desires, I will repeat some lines fit for a soldier to listen to, from the ShÂh-NÂmeh of Firdousee." This prelude gave more pleasure, from its near resemblance to that of our well-known northern minstrel:

Joozee Beg was told his offer was accepted, and after giving the horse he led to another, and taking his place in the front of the running footmen, he began as follows.

"It is hardly necessary to explain to one with such great knowledge as the Elchee, and to men of such enlightened understandings as those by whom he is surrounded, that SiyÂvesh, son of Ky-KÂoos, King of Persia, fled into Tartary, and took refuge with AfrÂsiÂb, king of that country, who first gave him his beautiful daughter Feringhees in marriage, and then put him to death. The widow of the unfortunate prince was left, with her infant son, the celebrated Ky-Khoosroo,[52] to the persecution of her tyrannical father, whose conduct provoked the vengeance of the king and nobles of Persia; but you shall now hear the first battle, in which the Persians were commanded by that hero Roostem, and the Turks by their king AfrÂsiÂb."

After this prelude, Joozee Beg cleared his throat, and began to recite in a voice which, though loud and at times almost deafening, was not without melody. The following is a literal translation of the fight as given by our minstrel.

"Hearken to the sound of the drum from two quarters; the restless warriors are impatient of delay; the trumpet's bray is heard afar; and the cymbals, clarions, and fifes of India and China join in the clang of war; the shout of battle reaches the clouds, and the earth vibrates to the neighing of steeds. When the noise of the approaching army was heard upon the plain, the report was conveyed to Roostem, the avenger.[53] They told him the force of AfrÂsiÂb was near; that his great army rode over the plain as a proud ship rides upon the seas; that his troops were in number like ants and locusts, and covered from the eye of the beholder the mountains, plains, and woods. When Roostem heard that the army of the King of Turan[54] was in sight, he placed himself in the centre of his force; ZevÂreh, his brother, was posted in the rear; FerÂmerz, his son, was stationed in front; Toos, with his band, was placed on the right. They were many in number, but one in heart.[55] Feribooz, the son of Ky-KÂoos,[56] was on the left, surrounded by a family of valiant men; Gooderz covered the rear with his relations, who were all free and independent[57] heroes. The air was darkened with the swords of the brave, when the glorious standard of GÂveh[58] was unfurled.

"The leaders of the army of Turan now arrange their shields. BahamÂn commanded their wing: he was surrounded by men as powerful as they were valiant. The left was led by Rahrem the renowned, and the centre by King AfrÂsiÂb in person. The earth from the hoofs of the horses became of the colour of an elephant, the air was spotted with lances like the skin of the leopard. The world had the appearance of a mountain of iron with a crest of steel. The war-horses neighed, and the standards fluttered, while the dark-edged swords scattered heads upon the plain. Peelsem[59] rushed from the centre of the army; his heart was filled with rage, and his visage covered with frowns. He exclaimed aloud to the heroes of Iran, 'Where is Roostem? They tell me he is a dragon in the day of battle.' At this instant a shout was heard from Roostem, which shook all around. He said to his troops, 'Move not forward from the spot on which you now are. I go to silence this Peelsem, whose heart burns with rage, and whose visage is covered with frowns.' Roostem, foaming with passion, rushed to the front of the battle; he couched his strong lance, fixed himself in his seat, and raising his shield to his head, he exclaimed, 'O Peelsem, thou celebrated warrior, hast thou called me forth that thou mightest consume me with thy breath?' Thus saying, he struck his lance through Peelsem's body, and raised him on its point from his saddle, like a light ball. He continued his charge to the centre of the army of Turan, and casting the body from the point of his spear, exclaimed, 'Clothe this corpse of your friend in a pale[60] shroud, for the dark dust has soiled it.' Now the shout of heroes and the blows of maces are heard, and the voice of the trumpets shakes the earth. The deep drum sounds from the back of the elephant to the distance of many miles:[61] the earth was wearied by the tread of horses. Each pool became like a sea with blood, and each plain like a mountain from the slain, and every stone was turned into coral. Many were the proud who were laid low on that day. Heaven seemed to call for blood, and the breast of a father was devoid of mercy for his son. From the dark flights of the eagle-feathered arrows, with their steely points, the air was deprived of the space it occupied: the clashing of swords reached the skies, and blood flowed from the boundary of India to the Oxus. The flashing of scimitars and spears, seen through the thick clouds of dust, appeared like the forked lightning amid the dark clouds of the firmament. The day was made by death, black, like the face of an Ethiopian. The numbers of the slain filled the roads, and the plains were strewed with helmets and shields, and heads were seen as if lamenting for each other. The hearts of the army of the King of Turan were broken, and the field of battle became dark in their sight. 'Our good fortune,' exclaimed AfrÂsiÂb to his troops, 'is no longer awake, but sleepeth.' They left the field covered with iron, silver, and gold; with helmets, lances, and bucklers. The poorest in the army of Iran became that day a man of wealth, from the quantity of ornaments and jewels.

"'Whosoever desireth to succeed, and to avoid trouble and danger, will not wander in the path of the wicked.'"[62]

Here our bard ended his battle, which differs in some stanzas from my copy of Firdousee; but that is not surprising, as I never knew two copies of this celebrated work that did not differ in a hundred places.

The attendants of the mission, particularly those who were of the ancient Persian tribes, and who hate the Tartars, were delighted with Joozee Beg's battle. We all expressed our satisfaction, and were assured by the minstrel that we were kaderdÂns, judges of merit. But his delight appeared incomplete, until he heard the Elchee add to his thanks an order for a present of a few piastres. He then said he was "happy—he was honoured;" that he had often heard of the fame of the English nation, but was now, from personal observation, quite satisfied they were the first people upon earth.

The journey from Shiraz to Isfahan abounds with remains of the former glory of Persia. The greatest is the far-famed Persepolis of the Greeks, the Elemais of the Hebrews, and the Istakhar of the Persians. Every traveller has described these magnificent ruins, which the natives of the country distinguish by the name of Chehl-MenÂr (forty[63] pillars), and Tekht-e-Jemsheed (throne of Jemsheed). Some conjecture that it was formerly a palace, others are quite positive it must have been a temple. I am much too wise to venture on speculations which have bewildered so many learned men. My reader must therefore be satisfied with a conversation I had upon this abstruse subject with some of my fellow-travellers, when I visited these monuments of ancient grandeur.

"This building," said Aga Meer, "was the house of Solomon, at least so I have read in the History of Shiraz." "And what did the foolish writer of that book know about Solomon?" said Mahomed Hoosein Khan; "but the author, I suppose, concluded, that because Solomon was the wisest of men, he must choose Persia as his residence; and every Persian will agree in such a conclusion." "No doubt," said the mild Aga Meer, either not understanding the little nabob's sarcasm at the vanity of his countrymen, or not wishing to enter into farther discussion.

"People are divided," said the Khan, pleased with his own sally, "whether this was a palace or a temple; if it was built and inhabited by Jemsheed, it was probably both; for he says, in the ShÂh-nÂmeh, 'By the Divine favour, I am both a sovereign and a priest;'[64] and if this first and most wonderful man of Persia studied his ease and convenience half as much as his countrymen now do, it is most probable, that, to save himself trouble, he would join his palace and his temple together."

"You Europeans," continued Khan SÂhib, turning to me, "believe that Alexander, to please a beautiful lady, set fire to this palace in a spirit of mischief; we Mahomedans have the consolation to think this proud abode of unbelievers was destroyed when our first caliphs conquered Persia, through a spirit of holiness. It was a rule," said he, smiling, "of the first pious propagators of our religion, always to give to infidels an earnest in this world of what they were to expect in the next; so they and their profane works were included in one common sentence of destruction."

Though neither the Indian Moonshee, Mahomed Hoosein, nor the Persian MeerzÂ, liked the levity with which my little friend treated such a serious subject; they saw he was in too lively a vein to expect to check him, but they looked grave. This, he observed, and to change the subject, asked me what I thought was the meaning of a figure, to which he pointed, half of whose body appeared rising out of a circle, and to which wings were attached? I told him, he could not apply to one who was more ignorant of such subjects than myself, but I would tell him what the learned of Europe had conjectured regarding this mystical figure.

The detail was long, and embraced a variety of opinions; but I concluded by observing, that the figure was believed to be that of a Ferooher, or spirit, which, according to the doctrine of Zoroaster, is an associate of an existing being, with whose soul or spiritual part it is united before birth and after death.

"These Feroohers," said I, "were sometimes invoked as guardian angels: they were male and female, and were not, in their connection with this earth, limited to human creatures; some of the race belonged to the vegetable world. Trees had their Feroohers." I was becoming more than learned, I was mystical, and on the point of showing some striking analogies between these aerial spirits of the ancient Persians, and the Sylphs, the Dryads, and the Hamadryads of the Greeks, when Khan SÂhib, anxious to make amends with his Mahomedan friends, for the slight which he saw they supposed he had put upon the first caliphs, interrupted me by saying—

"Well, God knows! however we may question the humanity, if not the policy, of extirpating whole races of men, because they did not believe exactly as we do, assuredly the founders of our holy religion have merit in putting an end to Feroohers, and all such trumpery as you have been talking about. There is enough of wicked flesh and blood in this world to give an honest man trouble and alarm, without his being scared in a wood, or frightened in his sleep by ghosts, spirits, and demons. The Glorious Volume,[65] thank heaven, has put an end to all these gentry. But, after all, I really wish (looking round at the ruins) that while it conferred this benefit upon us, and gave us more space in the world, by the removal of some incorrigible infidels, it had spared some of their best works, if it were only as specimens of their folly and pride."

As he was concluding this sentence, Hajee Hoosein came from the Elchee with pipes and coffee for our refreshment. "You were speaking of good works," said the Hajee. "I was speaking of works," said the Khan. "It is all the same," replied the Hajee, determined not to lose an opportunity of showing his reading: "works are everything in this world, as SÂdee says—'Alas, for him that's gone, and done no work! The drum of departure has beat, and his burden is not made up.'"[66]

The admiration given to the expression and sentiment of the moralist of Persia did not prevent a laugh at the manner in which it was applied. The Hajee, however, was not displeased with our mirth; he was too full of SÂdee's apophthegms and stanzas, and too eager to mix in conversation, to be particular as to the time or place in which he gave utterance to his recollections; and their want of application often rendered them more entertaining.

We returned to our tents with a resolution of completing our knowledge of the wonders of this place, by a visit to the famous rocks in the vicinity of Persepolis, which are called "The Sculptures of Roostem."[67]

Though there can be little doubt, from the similarity of these figures to those on the Sassanian coins, that they have been made to perpetuate the glory of the first sovereigns of that family; yet, when I on the ensuing day mentioned this conjecture to my Persian friends, I found I was regarded as an envious Frank, who wanted to detract from their hero Roostem, with whose fame all that is valiant, powerful, or wonderful in this country is associated: and whose name has been given to this, as it has been to all other sculptures representing any warlike deeds, of which the precise history is unknown.

In order to make amends for the errors of my knowledge, I commenced a panegyric on their favourite warrior. "We have," I said, "an account from the Greeks of a celebrated hero of theirs called Hercules, whom they have deified, and whom many of our learned confound with Roostem; but this Hercules was, in my opinion, hardly fit to carry the slippers of your hero."

"The Greeks talk of the club of Hercules, but what was his club to the bull-headed mace with which Roostem destroyed whole armies? Hercules, when an infant, crushed a couple of serpents; but Roostem, when a child, brained a furious elephant: Hercules shot his enemy, Ephialtes, in one eye; but Roostem did twice as much, for with a forked arrow he sealed in eternal darkness both eyes of the prince EsfendiÂr: Hercules wore a lion's hide; Roostem had, according to Firdousee, a vest made of the skins of several lions. Both heroes had supernatural aid, but Roostem seldom required it; for he was endowed with the strength of one hundred and twenty elephants;[68] and out of fifty thousand horses one only, the celebrated Reksh, was found capable of bearing his weight.

"Hercules," I continued, "we are told by the Greeks (who, however, are great romancers), accomplished twelve labours; but what are these compared to the Heft Kh'Ân, or Seven Stages of Roostem? Besides, it is doubted whether Hercules could ride—he certainly had no horse of any fame; whereas Reksh excelled all horses as much as his rider did all men."

This moderate and just tribute to the hero of Persia quite restored me to the good graces of my friends, who concurred with me in requesting our old minstrel, who had charge of the horses of some of our party, to recount to us the story of the Heft Kh'Ân, or Seven Stages of Roostem. He could not, he said, recite these great events as written in the page of the immortal Firdousee; but if we would be satisfied, he could give us the tale in prose, as he had heard it read from the Shemsheer-KhÂnee.[69] Being assured that what he recollected of the story would be quite enough, and his audience having seated themselves beneath the sculptured rocks, he began as follows:

"Persia was at peace, and prosperous; but its king, Ky-KÂoos, could never remain at rest. A favourite singer gave him one day an animated account of the beauties of the neighbouring kingdom of Mazenderan;[70] its ever blooming roses, its melodious nightingales, its verdant plains, its mountains shaded with lofty trees, and adorned to their summits with flowers which perfumed the air, its clear murmuring rivulets, and, above all, its lovely damsels and valiant warriors.

"All these were described to the sovereign in such glowing colours, that he quite lost his reason, and declared he should never be happy till his power extended over a country so favoured by nature. It was in vain that his wisest ministers and most attached nobles dissuaded him from so hazardous an enterprise as that of invading a region, which had, besides other defenders, a number of Deevs, or demons, who, acting under their renowned chief Deev-e-Seffeed, or the White Demon, had hitherto defeated all enemies."

"Is the Deev-e-Seffeed," said I, stopping the narrator, and turning to Aga Meer, "believed by modern Persians to have been a supernatural being, as his name implies? or is this deemed a poetical fiction of Firdousee to describe a formidable warrior, perhaps a more northern prince, and therefore of a fairer complexion?" "Why," said the Meer, "it is with us almost a crime to refuse belief to a single line Firdousee has written; but though there is no doubt he has given the account of these Deevs as he found it, in the public records from which he composed his great historical poem; we find in some of our best dictionaries, such as the JehÂngeeree, and BoorhÂn-e-KÂtih, the word Deev rendered 'a valiant warrior,' which shows that the learned authors of these works entertained the same notion as you do."

"If I had written a dictionary," said Mahomed Hoosein Khan, "I should have solved the difficulty by explaining, that Deev was a man who fought like a devil."

This little sally finished our grave disquisition; and Joozee Beg, who seemed not a little impatient at the interruption, resumed his narration.

"Ky-KÂoos," as I said before, "would not listen to his nobles, who in despair sent for old ZÂl, the father of Roostem, and prince of Seestan. ZÂl came and used all his efforts, but in vain; the monarch was involved in clouds of pride, and closed a discussion he had with ZÂl, by exclaiming, 'The Creator of the world is my friend; the chief of the Deevs is my prey.'[71] This impious boasting satisfied ZÂl he could do no good; and he even refused to become regent of Persia in the absence of Ky-KÂoos, but promised to aid with his counsel.

"The king departed to anticipated conquest; but the prince of Mazenderan summoned his forces, and above all the Deev-e-Seffeed and his band. They came at his call: a great battle[72] ensued, in which the Persians were completely defeated. Ky-KÂoos was made prisoner and confined in a strong fortress under the guard of a hundred Deevs, commanded by Arjeng, who was instructed to ask the Persian monarch every morning how he liked the roses, nightingales, flowers, trees, verdant meadows, shady mountains, clear streams, beautiful damsels, and valiant warriors of Mazenderan?

"The news of this disaster soon spread over Persia, and notwithstanding the disgust of old ZÂl at the headstrong folly of his monarch, he was deeply afflicted at the tale of his misfortune and disgrace. He sent for Roostem, to whom he said, 'Go, my son, and with thy single arm, and thy good horse, Reksh, release our sovereign.' Roostem instantly obeyed. There were two roads, but he chose the nearest, though it was reported to be by far the most difficult and dangerous. Now," said Joozee Beg, "it would occupy the whole day if I was to relate at length the adventures of the heft khÂn: a short account of the obstacles which the hero overcame at each will suffice.

"Fatigued with his first day's journey, Roostem lay down to sleep, having turned Reksh loose to graze in a neighbouring meadow, where he was attacked by a furious lion; but this wonderful horse, after a short contest, struck his antagonist to the ground with a blow from his fore-hoof, and completed the victory by seizing the throat of the royal animal with his teeth. When Roostem awoke, he was surprised and enraged. He desired Reksh never again to attempt, unaided, such an encounter. 'Hadst thou been slain,' asked he of the intelligent brute, 'how should I have accomplished my enterprise?'

"At the second stage Roostem had nearly died of thirst, but his prayers to the Almighty were heard: a fawn appeared, as if to be his guide, and following it, he was conducted to a clear fountain, where, after regaling on the flesh of a wild ass,[73] which he had killed with his bow, he lay down to sleep. In the middle of the night a monstrous serpent, seventy yards in length, came out of its hiding-place, and made at the hero, who was awaked by the neighing of Reksh; but the serpent had crept back to his hiding-place, and Roostem seeing no danger, abused his faithful horse for disturbing his repose. Another attempt of the serpent was defeated in the same way; but as the monster had again concealed himself, Roostem lost all patience with Reksh, whom he threatened to put to death if he again awaked him by any such unseasonable noises. The faithful steed, fearing his master's rage, but strong in his attachment, instead of neighing when the serpent again made his appearance, sprung upon it, and commenced a furious contest! Roostem, hearing the noise, started up and joined in the combat. The serpent darted at him, but he avoided it; and, while his noble horse seized their enemy by the back, the hero cut off its head with his sword.

"When the serpent was slain, Roostem contemplated its enormous size with amazement, and, with that piety which always distinguished him, returned thanks to the Almighty for his miraculous escape.

"Next day, as Roostem sat by a fountain, he saw a beautiful damsel regaling herself with wine. He approached her, accepted her invitation to partake of the beverage, and clasped her in his arms as if she had been an angel. It happened, in the course of their conversation, that the Persian hero mentioned the name of the great God he adored. At the sound of that sacred word the fair features and shape of the female changed, and she became black, ugly, and deformed. The astonished Roostem seized her, and, after binding her hands, bid her declare who she was. 'I am a sorceress,' was the reply, 'and have been employed by the evil-spirit Aharman for thy destruction: but save my life, and I am powerful to do thee service.' 'I make no compact with the devil or his agents,' said the hero, and cut her in twain. He again poured forth his soul in thanksgiving to God for his deliverance.

"On his fourth stage Roostem lost his way. While wandering about he came to a clear rivulet, on the banks of which he lay down to take some repose, having first turned Reksh loose into a field of grain. A gardener who had charge of it came and awoke the hero, telling him, in an insolent tone, that he would soon suffer for his temerity, as the field in which his horse was feeding belonged to a pehloovÂn, or warrior, called OulÂd. Roostem, always irascible, but particularly so when disturbed in his slumbers, jumped up, tore off the gardener's ears, and gave him a blow with his fist that broke his nose and teeth. 'Take these marks of my temper to your master,' he said, 'and tell him to come here, and he shall have a similar welcome.'

"OulÂd, when informed of what had passed, was excited to fury, and prepared to assail the Persian hero, who, expecting him, had put on his armour, and mounted Reksh. His appearance so dismayed OulÂd, that he dared not venture on the combat till he had summoned his adherents. They all fell upon Roostem at once; but the base-born caitiffs were scattered like chaff before the wind: many were slain, others fled, among whom was their chief. Him Roostem came up with at the fifth stage, and having thrown his noose[74] over him, took him prisoner. OulÂd, in order to save his life, not only gave him full information of the place where his sovereign was confined, and of the strength of the Deev-e-Seffeed, but offered to give the hero every aid in the accomplishment of his perilous enterprise. This offer was accepted, and he proved a most useful auxiliary.

"On the sixth day they saw in the distance the city of Mazenderan, near which the Deev-e-Seffeed resided. Two chieftains, with numerous attendants, met them; and one had the audacity to ride up to Roostem, and seize him by the belt. That chief's fury at this insolence was unbounded; he disdained, however, to use his arms against such an enemy, but seizing the miscreant's head, wrenched it from the body, and hurled it at his companions, who fled in terror and dismay at this terrible proof of the hero's prowess.

"Roostem proceeded, after this action, with his guide to the castle where the king was confined. The Deevs who guarded it were asleep, and Ky-KÂoos was found in a solitary cell, chained to the ground. He recognised Roostem, and bursting into tears, pressed his deliverer to his bosom. Roostem immediately began to knock off his chains: the noise occasioned by this awoke the Deevs, whose leader, BeedÂr-Reng, advanced to seize Roostem; but the appearance and threats of the latter so overawed him, that he consented to purchase his own safety by the instant release of the Persian king and all his followers.

"After this achievement Roostem proceeded to the last and greatest of his labours, the attack of the Deev-e-Seffeed. OulÂd told him, that the Deevs watched and feasted during the night, but slept during the heat of the day, hating (according to our narrator) the sun-beams. Roostem, as he advanced, saw an immense army drawn out: he thought it better, before he attacked them, to refresh himself by some repose. Having laid himself down, he soon fell into a sound sleep, and at daylight he awoke quite refreshed. As soon as the sun became warm, he rushed into the camp. The heavy blows of his mace soon awoke the surprised and slumbering guards of the Deev-e-Seffeed: they collected in myriads, hoping to impede his progress; but all in vain. The rout became general, and none escaped but those who fled from the field of battle.

"When this army was dispersed Roostem went in search of the Deev-e-Seffeed, who, ignorant of the fate of his followers, slumbered in the recess of a cavern, the entrance to which looked so dark and gloomy, that the Persian hero hesitated whether he should advance, but the noise of his approach had roused his enemy, who came forth, clothed in complete armour. His appearance was terrible; but Roostem, recommending his soul to God, struck a desperate blow, which separated the leg of the Deev from his body. This," said Joozee Beg, "would on common occasions have terminated the contest, but far different was the result on the present. Irritated to madness by the loss of a limb, the monster seized his enemy in his arms, and endeavoured to throw him down. The struggle was for some time doubtful; but Roostem, collecting all his strength, by a wondrous effort dashed his foe to the ground, and seizing him by one of the horns, unsheathed his dagger, and stabbed him to the heart.[75] The Deev-e-Seffeed instantly expired; and Roostem, on looking round to the entrance of the cavern, from whence the moment before he had seen numberless Deevs issuing to the aid of their lord, perceived they were all dead. OulÂd, who stood at a prudent distance from the scene of combat, now advanced and informed the hero, that the lives of all the Deevs depended upon that of their chief: when he was slain, the spell which created and preserved this band was broken, and they all expired.

"Roostem," said our narrator, "found little difficulty, after these seven days of toil, of danger, and of glory, in compelling Mazenderan to submit to Persia. The king of the country was slain, and OulÂd was appointed its governor as a reward for his fidelity.

"It would weary you," said Joozee Beg, "were I to detail all the misfortunes and distresses into which Ky-KÂoos subsequently brought himself, by a pride and folly which were only equalled by the wisdom and valour of ZÂl and his son Roostem; but one instance will suffice."

Hajee Hoosein, who was in attendance, whispered to me, "It is true, as SÂdee says, 'A wise man does not always know when to begin, but a fool never knows when to stop.'" I smiled, but shook my head, and Joozee proceeded.

"The event I am about to narrate," said he, "appears so wonderful, that I should doubt its truth, if I did not know it was written in the book I before told you of.

"The success of his arms had raised Ky-KÂoos to the very plenitude of power; not only men but Deevs obeyed his mandates. The latter he employed in building palaces of crystal, emeralds, and rubies, till at last they became quite tired of their toil and abject condition. They sought, therefore, to destroy him; and to effect this they consulted with the devil, who, to forward the object, instructed a Deev, called Dizjkheem, to go to Ky-KÂoos, and raise in his mind a passion for astronomy, and to promise him a nearer view of the celestial bodies than had ever yet been enjoyed by mortal eyes. The Deev fulfilled his commission with such success, that the king became quite wild with a desire to attain perfection in this sublime science. The devil then instructed Dizjkheem to train some young vultures to carry a throne upwards: this was done by placing spears round the throne, on the points of which pieces of flesh were fixed in view of the vultures who were fastened at the bottom. These voracious birds, in their efforts to reach the meat, raised the throne—"

Joozee Beg here stopt, seeing me hardly able to suppress a laugh. "You do not credit this story," he said. "You mistake," I replied; "I am only struck with a remarkable coincidence. In a sister kingdom of England, called Ireland, the natives, according to a learned author, trick their horses into a trot, by binding a wisp of hay to the end of a pole to which they are harnessed, and, like your vultures, they constantly strive but never attain their desire: their efforts to reach the food fulfil the object of the ingenious author of this useful invention. He was only a mortal, however, and could do no more than impel a vehicle along the earth; the scheme of the devil is more sublime, and we shall, I trust, hear of Ky-KÂoos reaching the seventh heaven!" "He was not so fortunate," said Joozee Beg; "for though he mounted rapidly for some time, the vultures became exhausted, and finding their efforts to reach the meat hopeless, discontinued them; this altered the direction and equilibrium of the machine, and it tossed to and fro. Ky-KÂoos would have been cast headlong and killed had he not clung to it. The vultures not being able to disengage themselves, flew an immense way, and at last landed the affrighted monarch in one of the woods of China. Armies marched in every direction to discover and release the sovereign, who, it was believed, had again fallen into the hands of Deevs. He was at last found, and restored to his capital. Roostem, we are told, upbraided his folly, saying

Here the tale of wonder ceased, and a learned dissertation commenced upon the genius and writings of Firdousee. It is only justice to this great poet to observe, that the exuberance of his fertile imagination, though it led him to amplify and adorn his subject, never made him false to the task he had undertaken—that of embodying in his great work all that remained of the fabulous and historical traditions and writings of his country. We cannot have a stronger proof of his adherence to this principle than his passing over, almost in silence, the four centuries which elapsed between the death of Alexander the Great and the rise of Ardesheer or Artaxerxes, the founder of the Sassanian dynasty. Adverting to the history of the Parthian kings, he observes, "When both their root and branches ceased to flourish, their deeds remained unrecorded by any experienced historian; and nothing but their names have I either heard or perused in the annals of the kings of Persia."

I mentioned to my friends, as we were leaving the ruins, the reflections which occurred to me on these points, anticipating their approbation of the justice I did Firdousee, but I was disappointed. Mahomed Hoosein, the Indian Moonshee, alone seemed to concur. "It is very just," was pronounced by him in an under tone. Meerz Aga Meer said faintly, "Perhaps you are right." Khan SÂhib had a half-suppressed smile at the scrape he saw I was in, from my qualified praise of the popular historian, as well as poet, of Persia; while almost all the natives of that country, and there were many of the party, evidently considered my criticism as bordering on want of faith in an author whom they had almost worshipped from infancy. I overheard Hajee Hoosein, to whom all the lesser persons in the mission listen as to an oracle, whisper to one of his friends, "SÂdee says, 'A wise man does not bring a candle to light the sun.'"

I left Persepolis with regret that my visit was so short; but the same ardent desire to examine this celebrated ruin was not felt by all our party. One of my companions, now no more, a gallant soldier and most devoted sportsman, was induced, by the game he found on the neighbouring plain, to delay his inspection of the palace of Jemsheed to the last day of our stay. On the morning we went to bid farewell to these remains of ancient grandeur, he promised to follow, but never came. When we interrogated him as to the cause, he answered, with that simplicity which belonged to his manly character, "I could not help it: I was on the way, but found a fine duck in the stream that runs from the mountain; it flew in a contrary direction, and I had to follow it several miles before I got a shot. There it is," said he, pointing to the bird which lay beside his gun, in a corner of the tent.