expression is that its action hinges on those fundamental passions of humanity, that "touch which makes the whole world kin," whose alphabet is the same in every latitude. The publication of "Sohrab" was nevertheless the revelation of a new world to London coteries, and the influence of Mr. Atkinson's work can be traced as well in the Persian pastorals of Collins as in the oriental poems of Southey and Moore. This metrical version of "Sohrab" is the only complete episode of the Shбh Nбmeh contained in the present collection. When we consider that the Persian original consists of some one hundred and twenty thousand lines, it will easily be understood that a literal rendering of the whole would make a volume whose bulk would put it far out of reach to the general reader. Atkinson has very wisely furnished us with a masterly rйsumй of the chief episodes, each of which he outlines in prose, occasionally flashing out into passages of sparkling verse, which run through the narrative like golden threads woven into the tissue of some storied tapestry. The literary style of the translator is admirable. Sometimes, as when he describes the tent of Manнjeh, he becomes as simple and direct as Homer in depicting the palace of Alcinous. The language of his Sohrab recalls the pathos of Vergil's Nisus and Euryalus, and the paternal love and despair of Dante's Ugolino. But in Rustem the tears of anguish and sorrow seem to vanish like morning dew, in the excitement of fresh adventure, and human feeling, as depicted by Firdusi, lacks not only the refined gradations, but also the intensity, which we see in the Florentine poet. Atkinson's versification is rather that of Queen Anne's time than what we of the Victorian age profess to admire in Browning and Tennyson. But it is one of the chief praises of Tennyson that he has treated Sir Thomas Malory very much in the same way as Mr. Atkinson has treated Abul Kasim Mansur, by bringing the essential features of an extinct society within the range of modern vision, and into touch with modern sympathies. All that is of value in Firdusi, to the reader of to-day, will be found in this version of Atkinson, while the philologist or the antiquarian can satisfy their curiosity either in the original, or in the French versions whose fidelity is above suspicion. For it is bare justice to say that James Atkinson's Firdusi is one of those translations, even though it be at the same time an abridgment, which have taken their place in the rank of British classics. It is the highest praise that can be given to a work of this character to say that it may be placed on the bookshelf side by side with Jeremy Collier's "Marcus Aurelius," Leland's "Demosthenes," and the "Montaigne" of Charles Cotton. It embalms the genuine spirit and life of an Oriental poem in the simple yet tasteful form of English narrative. The blending of verse and prose is a happy expedient. If we may use the metaphor of Horace, we should say, that Mr. Atkinson alternately trudges along on foot, and rises on the wings of verse into the upper air. The reader follows with pleasure both his march and his flight, and reaches the end of the volume with the distinct impression that he has been reading a Persian poem, and all the while forgotten that it was written in the English language.

E.W.

THE SHБH NБMEH

KAIЪMERS

According to the traditions of former ages, recorded in the Bastan-nбmeh, the first person who established a code of laws and exercised the functions of a monarch in Persia, was Kaiъmers. It is said that he dwelt among the mountains, and that his garments were made of the skins of beasts.

  His reign was thirty years, and o'er the earth
  He spread the blessings of paternal sway;
  Wild animals, obsequious to his will,
  Assembled round his throne, and did him homage.
  He had a son named Saiбmuk, a youth
  Of lovely form and countenance, in war
  Brave and accomplished, and the dear delight
  Of his fond father, who adored the boy,
  And only dreaded to be parted from him.
  So is it ever with the world—the parent
  Still doating on his offspring. Kaiъmers
  Had not a foe, save one, a hideous Demon,
  Who viewed his power with envy, and aspired
  To work his ruin. He, too, had a son,
  Fierce as a wolf, whose days were dark and bitter,
  Because the favoring heavens in kinder mood
  Smiled on the monarch and his gallant heir.
  —When Saiбmuk first heard the Demon's aim
  Was to o'erthrow his father and himself,
  Surprise and indignation filled his heart,
  And speedily a martial force he raised,
  To punish the invader. Proudly garbed
  In leopard's skin, he hastened to the war;
  But when the combatants, with eager mien,
  Impatient met upon the battle-field.
  And both together tried their utmost strength,
  Down from his enemy's dragon-grasp soon fell
  The luckless son of royal Kaiъmers,
  Vanquished and lifeless. Sad, unhappy fate!

Disheartened by this disastrous event, the army immediately retreated, and returned to Kaiъmers, who wept bitterly for the loss of his son, and continued a long time inconsolable. But after a year had elapsed a mysterious voice addressed him, saying:—"Be patient, and despair not—thou hast only to send another army against the Demons, and the triumph and the victory will be thine.

 "Drive from the earth that Demon horrible,
  And sorrow will be rooted from thy heart."

Saiбmuk left a son whose name was Hъsheng, whom the king loved much more even than his father.

  Hъsheng his name. There seemed in him combined,
  Knowledge and goodness eminent. To him
  Was given his father's dignity and station.
  And the old man, his grandsire, scarcely deigned
  To look upon another, his affection
  For him was so unbounded.

Kaiъmers having appointed Hъsheng the leader of the army, the young hero set out with an immense body of troops to engage the Demon and his son. It is said that at that time every species of animal, wild and tame, was obedient to his command.

  The savage beasts, and those of gentler kind,
  Alike reposed before him, and appeared
  To do him homage.

The wolf, the tiger, the lion, the panther, and even the fowls of the air, assembled in aid of him, and he, by the blessing of God, slew the Demon and his offspring with his own hand. After which the army of Kaiъmers, and the devouring animals that accompanied him in his march, defeated and tore to pieces the scattered legions of the enemy. Upon the death of Kaiъmers Hъsheng ascended the throne of Persia.

HЪSHENG

It is recorded that Hъsheng was the first who brought out fire from
stone, and from that circumstance he founded the religion of the
Fire-worshippers, calling the flame which was produced, the Light of the
Divinity. The accidental discovery of this element is thus described:—

  Passing, one day, towards the mountain's side,
  Attended by his train, surprised he saw
  Something in aspect terrible—its eyes
  Fountains of blood; its dreadful mouth sent forth
  Volumes of smoke that darkened all the air.
  Fixing his gaze upon that hideous form,
  He seized a stone, and with prodigious force
  Hurling it, chanced to strike a jutting rock,
  Whence sparks arose, and presently a fire
  O'erspread the plain, in which the monster perished.
  —Thus Hъsheng found the element which shed
  Light through the world.