darken on their upper lips, proved themselves to be of the true blood of the mighty Aad and his first-born Amalek. Their lives were double in length to that of the Kergus,* even twice two hundred years.— When that period was completed they died, but not by slow disease, nor wasted with the dull decay of age. Vigorous and active, they retained the bright keen eye, the light step, the buoyant spirits and hopes and joys of youth, until the Angel of Death came upon them. They were like the giant sycamores of Ashruff, which flourish sound and green, daily increasing in size and majesty a thousand years, until at their accomplished time a spontaneous fire bursts from their hearts, and scatters their substance towards the heavens in the flame, smoke and ashes of their own self-kindled combustion. Beautiful were the daughters of that race. The bloom of the rose withered before the blaze of their beauty. With their long thick hair waving in dark curls to their feet, they resembled the tall, slender, white-skinned Chenar trees, covered over with the mantling branches of the * Kergus, a fabulous bird mentioned in the Koran, resembling the Phenix of the western classics. vine; whilst upon their polished brows the thick ringlets curled as bunches of dates clustering on the palm-tree. Their cheeks, like the ruddy peaches of Shiraz, glowed with that bloom which is the salt of beauty. Their eyes, large, black and lustrous as those of the antelope, beamed from under dark brows arched high and narrow. Graceful were all their movements, and their steps were light yet firm, like that of a young Arabian filly. The land wherein these mighty and beautiful ones abode, was fat with abundance. Living waters gushed pure and bright from a thousand springs. The hills were crowned with gladness; joy and health were borne on every breeze. Yet these children of Aad worshipped not the Giver of all good, nor were they thankful for his gifts. Not that they were ignorant of the Most High, for they had preserved the tradition of the Patriarchs, and they had heard the teaching of Houd, who is also called Eber, the son of Salah, the son of Arphaxad, the son of Shem. But though the name and power of the Eternal were made known to them, yet in the pride of their might they turned their hearts wilfully away. The people bowed down to the stars of heaven and worshipped the elements, and made their first-born pass through the flames before Moloch. Their sages and princes walked proudly in the light of their own minds, and wandered in vain systems, which they called philosophy. Over this people the wise Shedaud long ruled in peace and glory. Mightiest he of the mightiest, and most beautiful of the sons of men. Far and wide did he extend his sway, over Iran and Touran, from Arabia and the Gulf to the Indus and the Caspian. Such was the equity and vigilance of his government, that for very lack of employment justice might have slumbered on her seat; such his power, that to hear his voice of command, was to obey it. Wise was he and just, and true of speech. But his wisdom was of this world only. He spake always the simple truth, because he knew that truth was essential to the common good of his realm, and because he feared not the face of man, and was too proud to lie. He was most just in all his dealings—for he had been taught from his childhood that on justice and honesty depended the wealth and happiness of his race and the glory of his name. But his virtues, like his wealth and majesty and beauty, were a snare to him, for they made him proud, so that he remembered not mercy, nor walked in lowliness of heart. Great and wise in his own generation, and abounding in the goods of this life, he scorned that wisdom and goodness which is from the Giver of all good, whereby alone man may become like his Maker. Therefore he gave himself up to his own heart's desires; he revelled in luxury, he set his heart upon the glories of the world, he turned him from the house of mourning, and closed his ear to the cry of the miserable. Under this reign, so glorious in the eyes of men, so vile in the sight of heaven, the virtuous Houd grew up to manhood. We may speak of him in the very words which Ferdosi has used of another teacher of wisdom.* "As thus the monarch holds his impious sway, * The original passage is slightly varied from some splendid lines in the Shah-nameh or Book of Kings, the famous historic epic of Ferdosi. However feeble my translation may be in other respects, I have endeavoured to preserve those sudden transitions from the metaphorical to the literal, from the third to the first person, which are so characteristic of oriental poetry and eloquence. C* 'I come, oh! King, commissioned from above, For forty years did the fervent Houd labour to reclaim these apostates to the faith of their fathers. Though the king and his princes heeded him not, and the young men and maidens laughed him to scorn, still his zeal did not cool, for he remembered that they were of the blood of Shem, and his heart yearned towards them. Again and again, with a kinsman's love and a prophet's fervour, he called upon Shedaud to bow down his pride before the true and invisible God. After urging on his proud relation all the considerations common to him with other men, Houd then painted to him his own peculiar ingratitude in thus despising the hand which had snatched him from so many dangers, and heaped upon him so many blessings. "Thou hast not forgotten," said he," how, when a smiling, prattling boy, thy parents were buried in the bosom of the Gulf of Hormuz, and thou wast saved alone on a single plank. How the Angel of Death then hovered over thee, and shook his dart but delayed to strike, and relented as he looked on thy innocent and lovely face. Never before had he relented, never again will that stern minister relent over |