“O my son! My gentle Irij! Never prince died a death so pitiful as thine!”
Then pressing the golden casket unto his breast, he spake unto God in his grief.
Now all the land wept and bemoaned the death of Irij, and the sorrow which had come unto the great King, so that for many years Iran was like unto a house of mourning. And the voice of lamentation ceased not in the land until the happy day upon which they placed in the arms of Feridoun a babe, fair and strong, the hero destined to avenge the gentle Irij’s death. But of this you must hear in another story.
MINUCHIR THE AVENGER
The old Persian chronicles relate that the Princess of Yemen wedded by Irij, son of Feridoun, bare unto him an only child, a daughter fair and sweet as a garden in spring. Now the fame of her beauty travelled far, and kings became her suitors. But her grandsire, giving her the desire of her heart, wedded her unto Pescheng, a hero of Jemshid’s race; and, in the course of time, there was born unto them a son who, in form and feature, resembled the lost Irij.
Now great was the rejoicing on the occasion of his birth, and, when he was yet a tender babe, they carried him unto the aged Feridoun, saying:
“O Shelter of the Universe, rejoice! for here is thy loved Irij come back unto thee a sweet and smiling babe.”
Then,
“The old man’s lips, with smiles apart,