“If life hath any charm for thee,
  The brains of men their food must be.”

Zohak, “the Serpent King,” as he is now invariably called, was therefore obliged to prey upon his subjects to satisfy the appetite of these serpents, and, as two men were required daily for that purpose during the next thousand years, the realm was sorely depopulated.

  The serpents still on human brains were fed,
  And every day two youthful victims bled;
  The sword, still ready, thirsting still to strike,
  Warrior and slave were sacrificed alike.

Naturally, all the Persians grew to loathe their monarch, and, when the seventeenth and last child of the blacksmith Kavah was seized to feed the serpents, this man rebelled, and, raising his leathern apron as a standard, rallied the Persians around him.  He then informed them that, if they would only fight beneath “the flag of Kavah,”—­which is now the Persian ensign,—­he would give them as king Feridoun, a son of Jemshid, born during his exile.  Hearing this, the rebels went in quest of Feridoun, “the glorious,” in regard to whom Zohak has been favored with sundry visions, although he had been brought up in secret, his sole nurse being a faithful cow.  When this animal died at last, the grateful Feridoun made a mace of one of its big bones, and armed with that weapon, defeated Zohak, who was chained to a mountain, where he was tortured by visions of his victims for a thousand years.  Meantime Feridoun occupied so justly the throne of Persia—­where he reigned some five hundred years—­that his realm became an earthly Paradise.

At the end of this long reign, Feridoun despatched his three sons to Arabia in quest of wives, and on their return proceeded to test their mettle by meeting them in the shape of a dragon.  While the eldest son retreated, crying that a wise and prudent man never strives with dragons, the second advanced recklessly, without thinking of protecting himself.  The third, however, set to work in a business-like way, not only to rescue his foolhardy brother, but to slay the dragon.  On perceiving this, the father resumed his wonted form, and announced he would divide his realm into three parts, of which the best share, Iran or Persia, was bestowed upon Trij, the son who had shown both courage and prudence.

Not long after this division, the two elder brothers united to despoil the younger, but, although they succeeded in slaying him, his infant daughter was brought up by the aged Feridoun, and in due time gave birth to a son, Minuchir, destined to avenge his grandfather’s death by defeating and slaying his great-uncles.  Having done this, Minuchir occupied the throne, while his favorite vassal was made governor of one of the newly conquered realms.  This swarthy, dark-haired man proved perfectly happy in these new estates until he heard his wife had given birth to a son with snow-white hair.

  “No human being of this earth could give to such a monster birth,
  He must be of the demon race, though human still in form and face. 
  If not a demon, he at least, appears a parti-colored beast.”