happiness. He feasted and drank wine continually with his warriors and
chiefs, so that in the midst of his luxurious enjoyments he looked upon
himself as superior to every being upon the face of the earth, and thus
astonished the people, high and low, by his extravagance and pride.

One day a Demon, disguised as a musician, waited upon the monarch, and
playing sweetly on his harp, sung a song in praise of Mázinderán.

And thus he warbled to the king--
"Mázinderán is the bower of spring,
My native home; the balmy air
Diffuses health and fragrance there;
So tempered is the genial glow,
Nor heat nor cold we ever know;
Tulips and hyacinths abound
On every lawn; and all around
Blooms like a garden in its prime,
Fostered by that delicious clime.
The bulbul sits on every spray,
And pours his soft melodious lay;
Each rural spot its sweets discloses,
Each streamlet is the dew of roses;
And damsels, idols of the heart,
Sustain a more bewitching part.
And mark me, that untravelled man
Who never saw Mázinderán,
And all the charms its bowers possess,
Has never tasted happiness!"

No sooner had Kai-káús heard this description of the country of