and settled on the same spot as before. The bow was said to be so strong that there was not a warrior in the whole kingdom who could even draw the string; and when the damsel witnessed the dexterity of the stranger, and the ease with which he used the weapon, she thought within her heart, “There can be no necessity for the picture; I am certain that this can be no other than the King Jemshíd, the son of Tahúmers, called the Binder of Demons.” Then she took the bow from the hand of Jemshíd, and observed: “The male bird has returned to its former place, if my aim be successful shall the man whom I choose in this company be my husband?” Jemshíd instantly understood her meaning. At that moment the Kábul nurse appeared, and the young princess communicated to her all that had occurred. The nurse leisurely examined Jemshíd from head to foot with a slave-purchaser’s eye, and knew him, and said to her mistress—” All that I saw in thy horoscope and foretold, is now in the course of fulfilment. God has brought Jemshíd hither to be thy spouse. Be not regardless of thy good fortune, and the Almighty will bless thee with a son, who will be the conqueror of the world. The signs and tokens of thy destiny I have already explained.” The damsel had become greatly enamoured of the person of the stranger before she knew who he was, and now being told by her nurse that he was Jemshíd himself, her affection was augmented twofold.
Increased the ardour of her love for him.
And now the picture was brought to the princess, who, finding the resemblance exact, put it into Jemshíd’s hand. Jemshíd, in secretly recognizing his own likeness, was forcibly reminded of his past glory and happiness, and he burst into tears.
No longer his, came o’er him, and his soul
Was rent with anguish.
The princess said to him: “Why at the commencement of our friendship dost thou weep? Art thou discontented—dissatisfied, unhappy? and am I the cause?” Jemshíd replied: “No, it is simply this; those who have feeling, and pity the sufferings of others, weep involuntarily. I pity the misfort-
