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 Jemshíd 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: "Oh, 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 Jemshíd 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 Jemshíd, to whom he expressed the warmest favor and affection; but notwithstanding all he said, Jemshíd 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 vizirs 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.
And am I thus to perish? Thus forlorn,
To mingle with the dust? Almighty God!
Was ever mortal born to such a fate,
A fate so sad as mine! O that I never
Had drawn the breath of life, to perish thus!
Exhausted by the keenness of his affliction Jemshíd at length fell asleep. Zohák, 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 Jemshíd 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.