fire, and burnt his house and home. He procured poison, which he took and died. If he deprived another of life, he saved not his own!

Hence your majesty may see the danger of precipitation." The vizir then relates, in further illustration of the cunning of women, the story of the Old Man who sent his young Wife to the Market to buy Rice.

The manuscript here wants fol. 57; but enough remains to show that the tale is the same as that given in Syntipas (p. 40), and in the Tooti-nameh, p. 126 of the edition of London, 1801.

The king is induced by these tales and the intercession of the vizir to suspend the execution and remand his son to prison.

The damsel now returns for the third time, and renews her demand for justice against the prince. If," says she, " my counsel is not listened to, the same thing will happen to you which befel the prince who, yielding to the guidance of his vizir, was made prisoner in the haunt of the ghouls."

His majesty desires to hear the tale, and the damsel proceeds.

A woman of the race of the kings of Persia once related to me, that, in the city of Kermán, a city whose like neither does the earth behold nor space contain, there ruled a brave and just prince, of the family of Kisra, by name Ardeshír, to whose sway were subject fowl, fish, and ant; and whose threshold was kissed by the sultans of Ghor. He had but one son, named Bedr, whom he fondly loved, and who, he hoped, would succeed him when he should cease to reign; when the rose should pass away, this rose-water would remain; when the sun should set, this moon would arise.

One day, in the season of spring, the young prince, wearied of confinement, asked permission of his father to go a-hunting for a day or two. "The mas

ter of the hawks," said he, "informs me, that in Rudbár, and Meshír, and Nigár, there is abundance of cranes, partridges, and other game, and makes me eager for the sport."

His aged father replied: "Listen to my counsel, and do it not, my son! The chase is an evil thing in its beginning and in its end. In the eye of those endowed with reflection, it is unlawful that the hawk should pluck out the eye of the partridge. The antelope, with all its beauty and grace—is it not a pity that it should be mangled by the fangs of the dog? The pheasant, with its delicate and graceful gait-is it not a shame that it should fall into the power and snare of the fowler? Those animals cause pain or injury to no one; are happy amid their thickets and grass, and covet nothing more. Well said the widowed wife to the falconer: "Go, withhold thy hand from this evil occupation. They are all the servants of their Maker; all of them live by His command. What advantage canst thou derive by depriving them of life? What benefit canst thou reap from sacrificing an ant ?"*

"Sire!" replied the prince, "the law sanctions hunting and the chace; and, since it is permitted by the Prophet, whence is this prohibition, and why this severity of rebuke ?" In short, the king seeing that he was bent on going, cautions him to be on his guard against evil and danger; and his majesty's favourite minister, in whom he had the fullest confidence, receives instructions to attend and take charge of the prince, but is desired by the king not to conduct him to the desert of Rúdán, as it is infested with ghouls. They set out, and the vizir proposes that they should proceed to Shemsi Ghórán, which abounds in wild asses. Another of the vizirs, however, who had long borne envy towards the premier, and who was secretly the enemy of his sovereign, worked on the prince by his insinuations against the minister, drew him aside from his train, when they were near Shemsi Ghórán, into a tent, and persuaded him to drink a cup of wine. The prince was then about to repose in

غزالي بآن نازكي و آن نمک

نه حیفست در دست و دندان سگ * تدروي چنان نازكي خوش خرام نه عیبست در دست صیاد و دام نه آزار کس دریشان نه رنج و بخار و گياهي بسازند و بس زن بیوه خوش گفت با بازدار که رو دست ازین کار بد باز دار همه بنده آفریننده اند سراسر بفرمان او زنده اند چه حاصل ازینها که بیجان کني

چه حاصل ز موري که قربان کني

The poet has here committed an error which, according to Gladwin, is unpardonable, in rhyming a Persian with an Arabic letter, viz.with. See Gladwin's Dissertations on the Rhetoric, Prosody, and Rhyme of the Persians, p. 138, of the defects in Cá-fe-yeh. This blemish, however, which

is called, is sanctioned by the usage of modern poets, and even by that of Sadi, in the following passage from the Bostán:

و تشریق و اسب
داد
کسانرا درم
طبیعیست اخلاق نیکو نه کسب

On which the scholiast remarks:

درین بیت قافیه از باي تازي و پارسي است و این عیب است مگر شعراي متاخرین درست داشته اند و این را ایفا میگویند

the tent, when a cry arose that a wild ass was started. The prince sprang up, mounted his steed, and rode on in pursuit of the animal, and never reined in until it suddenly disappeared as if the earth had swallowed it up.

The prince looked on every side, and beheld before him a charming lady, beautiful as a peri-her stature straight as a box-tree; her mouth small as the end of a hair; her waist a hair's breadth.

One wonders not to find a rose growing by a fountain; but, if it is found springing from a salt-marsh, it may well cause surprise. The prince was galloping in pursuit of a wild ass, and if he missed it, he found an antelope; he was in search of a serpent, and found the treasure in its stead. "A table," thought he to himself, "has descended from heaven."

"O envy of Houri and Peri," said he, addressing her, "for human being possesses not such beauty, thou art an angel, and Paradise thy home; say, what wouldst thou in this world of gloom ?" The damsel replied: “One must not hide one's complaint from the physician. I once beheld thee at a distance, from my terrace. I had ascended to look for the new moon, when, to my unexpected good fortune, the sun appeared. (Thus) one sought the moon, and found the sun; one looked for the goblet, and found Jemshíd. Since thou art amber and I the straw, tell me, how can I preserve my heart? O captivating youth! the heart is a source of affliction: I would not wish even an infidel the misfortune to have his heart enslaved!" The prince was carried away by his desires; for the fountain was in sight, and his lip was parched. The damsel pointed to her abode, and led the way, while the prince rode on after her till they reached a desolate spot. She entered and cried out "Come and see what I have brought hither by my contrivance!"+ From every corner the black ghouls‡ rushed out. The prince, on seeing them, was alarmed for his life, and conning a prayer, fled to the desert. He urged on his steed, while the female pursued him, begging him not to desert her thus cruelly."

"Excuse me," said the prince, "I am not my own master, but in the hands of another (viz. his steed). Whatever I sew, he undoes: I go not willingly, but he flies with me."

The damsel continues to entreat; but the prince persists in not returning. Although the pages of the manuscript are numbered consecutively, a leaf is wanting here. The conclusion may be guessed from Syntipas, where, as soon as the prince had uttered a prayer, the damsel falls powerless on the ground, unable longer to pursue him; while the prince sets off at full speed, and reaches home in safety.

The commencement of the next chapter is wanting: but it of course contained the order of the king for the execution of his son, which is stayed by the third vizir, who, repairing to the foot of the throne, intercedes for the prince. He counsels the king to put no faith in slaves. If," says he, you desire a son, ask in marriage a daughter of the emperor of China. For whenever you have a son by a slave, he will be of evil disposition,

66

επί τινι αοικῳ καταλύματι.-Synt., p. 34.

† ιδε ηγαγον ύμιν νεανίσκον εφιππον.

והנה הנערה משקחת עם שרים אחרים ואמרה להם הנה הבאתי לכם

בחור בן מלך

* λαμιαι.-Synt.

M.S. of Mishlé Sindabar.

5 Και ευθύς εις ουρανον ὁ νέος τους οφθαλμους ανατείνας, και τας χειρας,

and ill-affected towards you; a beggar will be introduced to your court, and a black seated on your throne. Listen not to the advice of the worthless; slay not your son rashly; otherwise, you will repent, as the officer did of killing his cat."

The vizir then relates, that an officer had an only child by a beloved wife, who had died in giving it birth. He entrusted the care of it to a faithful nurse. Once, when she was absent from the apartment where the child lay in its cradle, and a favourite cat, that had been the pet of the officer's deceased wife, was left beside it, a large snake was observed by the cat approaching the cradle. The cat attacks the snake, and, after a long struggle, kills it. The father, returning, and seeing the traces of blood in the apartment, hastily concludes that it was that of his child, and that the cat had killed it. In his rage, he despatches the cat ; but discovering afterwards that his child was safe, and that the blood was that of the snake, he reproaches himself bitterly, for having killed the faithful animal.

In the same story, told in Syntipas (p. 60), and also in the Hebrew version,* a dog kills the snake; in the Pancha-tantra, a mungouse.

"Shed not then," proceeds the vizir, "the blood of your innocent son. If the officer had reflected, he would not have acted so rashly. Slay not a prince on the testimony of a woman. Women are fickle and inconstant, and pray at ten kiblahs in one day.

"I will now, with your majesty's permission, relate a story still more entertaining than the last, viz. that of the merchant's wife and the old woman who conducted her to a lover.

"An old man had married a young and beautiful wife. The husband used frequently to go to his farm in the country, leaving his wife in town. Upon those occasions, she threw off all restraint, and met many lovers; and an old woman acted as her go-between. The husband, once, on returning to town, instead of going home, applied to the old woman to introduce him to a mistress; and his own wife, not knowing whom she was to meet, is induced to grant him an assignation. She manages so well to dissemble her own confusion, and reproaches him so naturally, that he never suspects her guilt, but entreats on his knees to be forgiven his infidelity."

The king's resolution is again shaken by the above tales, and he remands his son to prison.

The damsel now presents herself a fourth time, and demands justice, threatening, if it is refused, to drink a cup of poison which she holds in her hand. She relates to his majesty the story of the monkey, the fig-tree, and the boar.

An old monkey, finding himself a burden to his wife and family, takes leave of them, and wanders forth into the world. After suffering much distress, he at last reaches a spot in a forest full of every sort of fruit, and abounding in figs so delicious that you would have supposed them composed of sugar and milk. Here, reposing from the fatigues of travel, he slept long and soundly. When he awoke, he performed his ablutions in the stream, and ate some fruit. Although his heart burned when he thought of his family and relations, of what avail was it to grieve? Having here abundance of provision, he quitted not the spot the whole year. He reserved a quantity of the fruit on the branches for the winter. In the meantime a boar, fleeing from the combat, with his face bathed in blood and the stream flowing from every hair of his body, appeared in the forest, like sudden death entering a door. After lying for a week in feeble

* כלב אחר צייד יפה מאוד

ness, the wounded boar went about in search of food, but in vain, it being now winter. At length he saw the monkey seated on a fig-tree, every branch of which was laden with figs. He implored the monkey to give him some food; upon which it threw him down a lapful of fresh figs, a mun or more. These he quickly devoured, and still demanded more, until he had eaten ten muns, and the tree was stript of fruit. The boar now threatened, and the monkey prayed to heaven for deliverance; upon which the boar, springing upon the tree, fell back, broke his neck, and expired.

"Fear then that God, by whom this was brought about, and grant me justice, remembering that the throne of tyrants shall be overturned."

The king is now more determined than ever on the death of his son, and orders wood to be brought together, that he may be burnt by the executioner; upon which the fourth vizir presents himself, and intercedes for the prince. To show the danger of trusting in women, he relates the story of the bathkeeper, who conducted his wife to the son of the king of Kanój. This story is the same as that told in Syntipas, p. 48.

The vizir next relates the story of the virtuous woman, the lover, and the old woman who made the dog weep; for which see Syntipas, p. 51.

There seems to be here a considerable displacement in the leaves of the manuscript, and throughout the remainder of the volume, and also some deficiency. The prince is, of course, remanded. The damsel probably next appears for the fifth time, and instigates the king to execute his son.

The next tale, viz. that of the man who had compiled a book on the wiles of women, and was afterwards caught in them himself, is that told in Syntipas, p. 92, and appears to be related by the fifth vizir.

The intercession of the fifth vizir having produced the same effect on the king as that of the other vizirs, in making him remand the prince to prison till further inquiry, the damsel presents herself the sixth time, and demands redress. She inveighs against the vizir, and cautions the king not to trust him. She then relates the

Story of Sal'úk the Robber, the Lion, the Monkey, and the Tree, and how the Monkey was slain.

In the happy reign of Ferídún, a caravan pitched their tents by the side of a running stream. Thither a robber of great daring, "who would have stolen his nose from the face of a lion," came by night in the hope of meeting with some booty, but finding a sentinel at every corner, and seeing that his art would be of no avail, he departed. Thinking, however, that he might contrive to steal some of the fleetest of the horses, he sat down in the midst of the cattle, to watch his opportunity. By chance a lion, in search of prey, passed near the caravan, and fixed his desire on the herds; but from the outcry raised by the crowd, he could not succeed, and remained quiet in his place. Sal'úk, seeing no other means of safety or escape, suddenly sprang on the lion's back and held fast. The lion, alarmed, ran off with his rider, and ceased not running the whole night. The robber was exhausted with sitting on the lion's back, yet dared not quit it, for almost certain death.

I once heard a traveller in Arabia say, that if you fix a determined gaze on a lion, he will that instant take to flight; while, if you flee from him, he will pursue you. In all cases of danger, courage is the best security. The lion, under his rider, had by this time become timorous as a mouse. Coming to a lofty tree, he went under its shade; upon which Sal'úk sprang boldly from his seat into the tree. The lion on his part also was glad to escape from