CHAP. VII.

"All yet seems well; and if it end so meet.

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet."

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

THE Persian army was again in good order, and drawn out in battle array. In front of the main body rode Nadir Shah, whose visage was lightened up with a smile of exultation, as he surveyed the opposing force.

"My men," he cried, "we are about to attack the enemy's ranks; whoever in the general charge is the first to strike down an Osmanlee, shall receive as a reward the most princely kalaat with which we can invest him, and the sum of five thousand tomans."

This proclamation had been made on the day before, and many were the hopes it excited among the Iranee leaders, notwithstanding that the goodly steed, the admirable horsemanship, and the undaunted courage of the Shah, caused many to despair of reaching the enemy's ranks before him the very knowledge of the difficulty had a good effect, for all were determined to strive hard for the prize.

The word was given. Urged by their rider's heels the coursers bounded to the charge, and for a moment it seemed doubtful who would be the winner in the race; the superior swiftness, however, of the royal steed, soon became apparent, and as they approached the enemy, the Shah was in advance; but when he had arrived within a few yards of the foe, an unknown horseman bounded like a flash of lightning from the Persian ranks, and at the very moment that Nadir pierced the leader of the Osmanlees with his long lance, the stranger was close to him: a moment afterwards, and the fight became general. The Shah-his lance being broken-had seized the heavy mace which hung at his saddle-bow-the weight of which was tremendous, and began to sweep all before him.

The Turks, however, behaved most gallantly; their late success had given them confidence, and for some time the issue of the battle appeared dubious.

At length, the valour of Nadir having drawn him too much into the midst of his foes, he was surrounded, and unhorsed, and while on the ground was on the point of being pierced by a score of blades, when a horseman dashing up to the spot, bore down several of the warriors, who were pressing upon the Shah, and warded off the blows aimed at the royal person, until Nadir having gained his feet, seized and sprung upon a horse which was near him.

On account of the tumult, the Shah was unable to express his thanks; but hastily tearing a bazubend from his arm, he threw it to his preserver, and once more dashed into the midst of the Turks. The reappearance of the Shah acted like magic: wherever he approached the enemy gave way, and although much bravery was shown by the Ottomans, it was in vain. They were entirely routed, and a most complete victory graced the Persian arms.

"Well, my lords," said Nadir, when the Persian chiefs had collected after the battle, " methinks the prize cannot be claimed by a subject;

* Bazubend-an armlet.

for, unless I am mistaken, mine was the first lance that transfixed an enemy."

"May your majesty live for ever!" cried a voice near the spot where the monarch was seated. " Has the least of his slaves permission to make a representation to the asylum of the universe!"

On hearing these words, the Shah turned round, and fixed his eyes on the speaker, who casting off a cloak which concealed his features, revealed the person of Khodadad Khan, arrayed in complete armour, the dents and blood visible on which, showed that he had not been idle during the fray.

"Audacious dog!" exclaimed the monarch, in astonishment at "beholding the banished chief. "How comes it that you dare thus unbidden appear before us? Do you wish to laugh at our beards?"

"This, O king of kings!" returned the Khan, " may perhaps excuse my disobedience."

Kneeling on one knee, Khodadad drew forth the bazubend which the king had thrown to his preserver in the battle, and presented it to his royal master.

The Shah's countenance immediately exchanged its stern expression for one of admiration.

"Can it be possible !" he exclaimed, "that you were the gallant mortal, to whom the Shah this day owes his life?"

"On my head be it!" answered Khodadad, “your slave has had the good fortune to have been instrumental with the blessing of Allah, in doing what little he could in your majesty's service."

"Then, by Mahomed," exclaimed the Shah, "you have been deeply wronged in being branded as a coward. Rise, Khodadad, your head is exalted."

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"O my beloved master," answered Khodadad, "if the most devoted of your majesty's servants has found favour for a moment in your pre sence, he is happy."

Thus speaking, the Khan reverentially touched the ground with his forehead, and was in the act of rising when the Shah, casting a glance upon the cloak which had been thrown on the ground by Khodadad, cried out,

"Ha! a new light breaks upon me. I saw that cloak at the commencement of the action. Its wearer was next to me when I pierced the Turkish leader: by Allah, my lord, you were nearly carrying off the prize !"

"May it please your majesty to hear me," said the youth. "I beg to represent that I was the nearest to the foremost foe when he fell." "What mean you, Khan?" asked Nadir in astonishment, "you speak in riddles."

"Which I will soon solve," returned Khodadad.

The body of the Turkish commander, supposed to have been slain by the Shah, was sought for; and, on being found, proved on examination to have been thrust through the heart by the Khan's cummar, which wound, it was acknowledged by the Shah's surgeons, the Turk must have received before he was transfixed by his majesty's lance.

Upon this discovery the Shah clasped the young man in his arms, and assured him he was restored to full favour.

A very large dagger.

"Pardon me," sire," returned Khodadad, "allow me first to prove my innocence of the crimes of which I have been accused."

"I am a witness in your favour," cried a Dervish, rushing forward, the same who has been introduced to the reader in the preceding chapter, "I proclaim that Khodadad Khan has ever been a true and worthy son of the illustrious Agrarees."

"Whom have we here?" cried the Shah, gazing upon the old man, "I ought to know those features."

"You knew them well in former days, Nadir Shah," answered the Dervish proudly, "when their owner was known by the name of Yar Mahomed Khan Serdar."

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"Is it possible," cried Nadir in amazement, can the grave give up the dead! Do I behold him who was formerly acknowledged as the ornament of Persia's chivalry?"

"It is true, O king," replied the Dervish. "Had it not been for the intercession of the father of yonder youth, I should have been deprived of that life which had been spent in the service of an ungrateful master, who gave ear and credit to calumnies his noble nature ought at once to have discarded with scorn. The entreaties of Agrarees Khan were only sufficient to save me from execution, for you, O Nadir, drove me from your presence disgraced-unheard. From that moment I became a Dervish, and gave out reports of my death having speedily followed my degradation."

"Nay, my trusty Yar Mahomed," said Nadir, who, to the surprise of all around him, seemed by no means enraged at the plain-spoken language of his former follower, "you are wrong; it was not ingratitude on my part, but I was deceived by the tales of wretches who brought forward what then appeared proofs of your guilt, but Allah only knows how bitterly I have repented of my judgment against you, for your innocence was soon clearly made out, and your calumniators suffered the punishment due to their crimes. I will make you amends for your sufferings; henceforth you shall be our first minister."

"Pardon me, sire," answered the Dervish with humility, "I am no longer anxious for worldly honours, my only wish is to be a servant of Allah. Bestow your confidence and titles on Khodadad Khan; he is fully worthy of them. I have now come forward solely to clear his character from every imputation; and, Alhamdellillah, I possess the means."

Yar Mahomed then proceeded to inform the Shah that, on the appointment of Khodadad to the government of Azerbijan, he had determined to watch over the youth, and to guard him from the effects of Persian jealousy! that in following this line of conduct he had discovered that Meerza Kerbelah was planning the governor's destruction. Of this, he had at first been unable to obtain positive proofs, but after Khodadad's late disgrace he had fully ascertained that it was by Meerza Kerbelah's agency that the Gholam had delivered a forged letter to the Khan at Tabreez, and also that the aide-de-camp who had borne the royal command before the commencement of the action which had terminated so unfavourably for the Persian troops, had been bribed by the Meerza to deliver to Khodadad another forged letter, written in imitation of the Shah's hand, and sealed with a seal purporting to bear the royal signature.

"And here your majesty," continued the Dervish, "is the letter re

ceived by Khodadad Khan, which was the cause of his sudden retreat from the foe; it was supposed to have been lost during the late action, but by good fortune it reached my hands."

Yar Mahomed then drew forth the epistle, and presented it to Nadir, who, having perused its contents, commanded Meerza Kerbelah and his accomplice, the aide-de-camp, to be brought before him. The wretches were dragged forth on the instant, and overwhelmed with fear, made a full confession of their guilt. At a sign from Nadir, their heads were struck off, and their bodies left to wither on the plain.

The sequel may be imagined. Khodadad, raised to still higher rank than that which he before enjoyed, was united to his constant Semira. Fortune, as if weary of persecuting the gallant Serdar, never afterwards failed to smile graciously upon all his undertakings. Blessed in the possession of an affectionate and lovely wife, and high in favour with his royal master; Khodadad Khan was the happiest man in the fertile kingdom of Iran.

A CHANT OF THE DAY.

IN TWO TONGUES.

On! the notable fancy-freaks horæ præsentis,
Grim gaudia, new ways in oblectamentis!

'Ere from his amplexu our mentes could shrink, lo!
Gaunt Timor (the Tartar !) has caught us in vinclo.
The plurima mortis imago delights us,

And Murder just like a tarantula bites us!
Our musings, per diem, are criminis omnis,

While Raw-head-and-bloody-bones instat in somnis!
Yet not until fun cleaves to horror, the dose is

Completed-permistaque seria jocis ;

For nihil that's rogue-bred is deemed alienum,

The high and the low holding libras between 'em.

Thus læti and acres must be your house-breakers,

And gibes come with death-blows-the squibs with the crackers!
Skull-smashing, sub noctem, is voted sublime;

We call it, ridentes, a capital crime!

And facinus fascinates so, that we stick to

Whatever stands out in flagranti delicto.

But whence should the prædo who turget in fetters

Thus charm? 'Tis the donum, the love-gift of "letters!"

Romance, apud nos, blood-besprinkled in garb is,

Whilst History's ordered to " run for the darbies."
Tales of fraud are our literæ humaniores,

And slang is the study which emollit mores;

Nor aught that is novum or fresh do we choose,

Nisi Jack Ketch, good carnifex, brings us the noose!
Your author er rapto can live, and, no doubt,
His publisher gaudet that "murder will out!"
[By the by, three new libros we're led to expect;
The litera scriptæ, or letters select

Of that late lepidissimus homo, Bill Soames,
A thing quite per se, in a couple of tomes;

The obiter facta of three-fingered Jack,
Cùm notis, et spirited steel-cuts by Hack;
And (virginibus, puerisque, they tell us)

Ad Patibulum Gradus, the Guide to the Gallows.]
Of præmia grata that scriptor the best has,
Who of knaves or latrones exalts the res gestas.
See Sheppard strut forth, quite the facile princeps,
To flourish, and die as a hero deinceps:

There! respice finem, acknowledge how clear it is

That the rope round his cervix the "collar of merit" is.
Whatever is carcere dignum, is best:

Quid sit turpe from Turpin we learn with a zest,
And his vitae exemplar our manual est.

See Aram arise, "written up" from his taint,
A sinner white-washed-propemodum a saint!
How full of fine sympathy, ecce! he finds us,
And, tali ingenio præditus, blinds us!
Thus crime, by a nice lima labor made fairer,
Becomes but the mentis gratissimus error.
See others who, each more suo, stand forth
In proprio cultú, in separate worth.
Whilst daring thus, audent dùm talia fures,
Our heroes must necnon parade their amores.
Their fortia facta in knowledge t' enrich us,
Their mollia tempora serve to betwitch us!

Sweet nympha pedestris! What picture can meet hers?
One moment she's moral (her gin turned to bitters),
And, feigning odisse the life she's a hack to,

She oculos vexat humore coacto:

Anon she fit pugil, and, thrashing her lover,
Doth furens quid fæmina possit discover!

Of such things when sapit pagina, what stultus
Were he that as barbaros dared to insult us!
Whilst we have such writers, oh! cedite, say I,
Romani scriptores, and cedite Graži!

Shift the scene! See the horrors jam tantùm the rage
Pro publico bono transferred to the stage.

There, sweet is the tremor which occupat artus,

As the sceleris opus swells out for its partus,

Till,-ah! what an impetus thrills to our core

When the victim, confossus, sinks through the trap-door!

Oh! vivant, then, omnes who live in and by ill;

Let roguery reign, et prætereà nihil!

Of crow-bars and fetters so sweet since the tune is,

Avete ye deeds quorum finis est funis!

Let larceny, "petty" no longer, be mighty

A "choice dish of brains" be our pabulum vitæ

Burke and Bishop in cordibus nostris enthrone 'em,

(With their motto," De mortuis nil nisi BONE 'EM"-)
And still be it semper our richest of treats

Novos carpere flores, to cull Newgate sweets!
Be laus to law-breakers still given, and honos
To all who debellant those quizzes, your bonos !*

And may each truculentus, or brave rogue, to hang when he
Goes, find his
with pen dipped in sanguine!

* Vir bonus est quiz!—Eton Grammar.

G. D.