"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
'Have you managed your affairs so well on earth
That you must needs try your hand in those of heaven?'"[76]
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. Meerzâ 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.
FOOTNOTES:
[49] The word Meerzâ, when prefixed to a name, implies a secretary or civilian; when it follows, it designates a prince.