Although Firdusī wrote in the beginning of the eleventh century, it was not until the twelfth that the romances of chivalry began to amuse the Western world. The “Orlando Innamorato,” a poem by Bayardo, which was afterward improved and paraphrased by Berni, gave life and character to a great number of the stories of chivalry. In a similar way the Shāh Nāmah was largely indebted to the Būstān-Nāmah, which comprised the chronicles, histories, and traditions of the Persians, collected under the patronage of Yezdjird, the last king of the Sassanian race. Like the beautiful Rāmāyana and the martial Mahā-bhārata of the Hindūs, the Shāh Nāmah claims to be a history in rhyme. It is supposed to comprise the annals and achievements of the ancient kings of Persia from Kaiūmers[238] down to the Saracenic invasion and conquest of that empire,[239] an estimated period of more than three thousand six hundred years. But this bold lyric can lay but little more claim to historic accuracy than can the Hindū epics whose gorgeous colorings mock the very name of history. The Shāh Nāmah, like the other Oriental poems, abounds in adventures of the wildest description, in fabulous feats of strength and valor, and the heroines of the Persian bard are as intrepid and beautiful as the maidens who conquered the heroes of Western poetry. The legends of all nations are rich with terrible dragons, which are vanquished by unconquerable knights. Even England has her St. George, and other countries boast of cavaliers who were equally valiant. The hero of the Shāh Nāmah is Rustem, the Persian Hercules, and the strong similarity between the myths pertaining to them is another argument in favor of the common origin of various mythologies.[240] The labors of Rustem, however, were only seven, while those of Hercules were twelve. In the Shāh Nāmah, Isfendiyār has his seven labors as well as Rustem, and both succeeded in the overthrow of devouring monsters, and the destruction of talismans and works of enchantment. Isfendiyār is always accompanied, however, by a troop of horsemen, while Rustem performs his exploits alone, being mounted upon his magnificent horse Rakush. This splendid animal will often remind the reader of the horses of Indra, the Hindū “Lord of the Thunderbolt,” or Jove with his “steeds of light,” “Adorned with manes of gold, and heavenly bright.” Indeed, the boldest heroes of all people rode to battle upon gallant chargers like those of Rhesus, which were “swift as the wind, and white as winter snow.” The splendid picture of the Northern god would have lost its force without the presence of the fleet-footed Sleipnir, and Neptune were scarcely the king of ocean without his celestial steeds, “Fed with ambrosial herbage from his hand, And their fetlocks linked with golden band.” Achilles, too, drew the reins over