The last Parthian king rules at Rey when Babak of Pars, warned in a dream, gives his daughter to the shepherd Sasan, of the line of Dara. Their son Ardeshir flees Ardavan’s court with the slave-girl Golnar, overthrows the Parthians, loses and then wins against the Kurds, and destroys Haftvad and his fabled Worm. Then he orders a new empire, and his son Shapur carries it against Rum.
1,780 couplets39 sections82 notes112 people, places and terms5 maps
In briefFerdowsi praises Mahmud as the age’s greatest king, blesses his house and his commander Nasr, and reports a decree remitting a year’s taxes. He promises that this book will outlast every age, then lists the great dynasties that have vanished.
Now let the world’s great monarch be my theme,In feast and fight and knowledge held supreme.
A king, , most sage and wise,From wisdom all his counsels take their rise.
May joy forever in his heart remain,Free from all trouble, weariness, and pain.
Great rules with counsel firm and sound,Through him the name of greatness holds its ground.
King of Kings of Iran, Zabulistan,From to the bounds of Kabulistan.
Bless him, his army, and his kindred band,His royal house and all his subject land.
Bless , Mahmud’s and amir,The joy of time’s revolving, circling sphere.
Victorious, famed and fortunate is he;His arrow passes cleanly through a tree.
With one like in command,Above the moon the army’s head shall stand.
May Shah Mahmud live safe forevermore,And hold his throne above his golden store.
May his sepahbod prosper, glad and true,Bright-hearted, with his treasury thriving too.
While turning heaven still maintains its place,May love be never severed from this race.
May all his line rejoice in triumphs won,Crowned from the father down from son to son.
Now fourteen days of have gone by;Let blessings on our sovereign multiply.
Now fourteen days of Shawwal have gone byOne of the very few places where the poem dates itself by a passing event: a decree announced in mid-Shawwal remitting one year’s taxes. Ferdowsi rarely lets his own century into the poem at all, and when he does it is usually to credit the reigning king with the kind of justice he is about to credit to Ardeshir.
The crowned and gracious Shah has made it clear:Glad news of his decree on tax we hear.
No tax shall be demanded for one yearFrom men of ardent faith and godly fear.
The age of now returns;The world is changed, as any eye discerns.
When many years have passed, he still shall spreadThe canopy of justice overhead.
By justice and the good that he has done,He has a robe of honor, heaven-won.
That robe upon his form shall never fray,While on his head the crown shall stay.
May vigor crown his head, his flesh be sound,His spirit rise beyond the heavens’ bound.
Let none who count my months and years denyThe worth of what I now shall prophesy.
Look well: this book shall stand through every age,A lasting banner raised above each sage.
Through this, his stock shall be like ’ own,And all shall bless the lineage thus made known.
Thus Anooshirvan, son of , said:“When any king from justice turns his head,
Heaven blacks the charter of his royal claim;His star no longer calls him Shah by name.
Injustice is the writ that ends his reignWhen blameless hearts are burdened with its pain.”
Forever may this royal house endure,In worth and wisdom, righteous and secure.
No lasting foothold here has anyone,But a good name will last when life is done.
, , and : where lieThe Arab chiefs, Iran’s kings, long gone by?
Where are the great ones of fame,The house of and the name?
The house of Bahram and the Samanian name?The roll of vanished dynasties ends with the Samanians of Bukhara, under whose rule Ferdowsi began the Shahnameh and whom Mahmud’s house displaced. Naming them among the great who are gone for good, inside a passage praising their supplanter, is a quiet piece of nerve.
Of all the kings, Zahhak was most reviled,Unjust in rule, impure, by wrong defiled.
But glorious Fereydoon won praise from all;He died, yet still his bright renown stands tall.
The word remains, a lasting, precious storeOf memory, worth royal gems and more.
The unjust man whose joy was crown and goldLeaves no good name for later men to hold.
No worldly joy remains for him to keep;His name, which later tongues forget, will sleep.
This writ from him whose people are his care—May throne and royal ease remain his share—
Sent people from their houses to the plain;Their prayers rose past the heavens in this refrain:
“May he live long, the crowned head of our land,And fortune guide him with a generous hand.
May he see only joy; may halls proclaimIn writing on their walls his royal name.
May all our blessings with one voice embraceHis kin, troops, realm, his royal form and face.”
In briefWith Iskandar gone, no one rules the whole world. Princes of Arash’s line hold separate corners of it for two hundred years as the Tribal Kings. Ferdowsi lists the Ashkanians — Ashk, Gudarz, Ardavan, Bahram — and admits he has nothing but their names.
O singer, seasoned by advancing age,Now let Ashkanian times your thoughts engage.
What does the chronicler of old record?What does his book of ancient truth afford?
What mighty chiefs remained to rule the land,With great gone from all command?
The out of says none could claimThe world’s great ivory throne in his own name.
But princes, born of ’s noble breed,Were bold and headstrong, rash in thought and deed.
Each held a corner of the scattered land,A little realm beneath his own command.
Rejoicing, each was seated on his throne;As Tribal Kings these rulers then were known.
As Tribal Kings these rulers then were knownThe Ashkanians, the Parthians of Western history, reach Ferdowsi as the kings of the tribal groups, molūk al-ṭavāyef: not a dynasty but a scatter of local rulers filling the space between Iskandar and the Sasanians. The title is not a description so much as a verdict, and it is the verdict of the house that replaced them.
Two hundred years passed by with none to claimThe earth entire and rule it in his name.
Two hundred years passed by with none to claimTwo centuries is the whole Parthian age as the poem knows it. By modern reckoning the Arsacids held Iran for close to five hundred years, from the middle of the third century BC until AD 224. The shortfall is not Ferdowsi’s invention; he is following a chronicle tradition shaped by their conquerors.
Each left the others to their own domain;The earth found rest a while from strife and strain.
For Iskandar had split the realm apart,That might flourish through his ruling art.
The first was , of ’s line and breed,Then warrior , born of blessed seed.
The first was Ashk, of Qobad’s line and breedAshk is Arsaces, the founder whose name the Greeks turned into Arsacid, and some of the names that follow answer to kings known from coins and from Greek and Roman writers — Gudarz to Gotarzes, Ardavan to Artabanus. The pedigrees attached to them, tying them to Qobad, Kayanian stock and Arash, are Iranian epic tidying up a gap it cannot fill.
the Ashkanian, brave and bright,And , a of might.
, great , and Arash acclaimed,A mighty warrior, far and widely famed.
Next, is named upon the page:A just king, bright of soul, in counsel sage.
When of the came to reign,He shared his treasure, easing poor men’s pain.
They called him Ardavan the Great, who toreThe wolf’s claws from the sheep they gripped before.
He ruled and as lord,“The Great Lords’ Land,” as learned men record.
held from him; such strength he bore,His hook could make a mighty dragon roar.
Their root and branch cut short, no tale is toldBy the experienced chronicler of old.
I heard their names alone; no more was knownTo me, nor in the Book of Kings was shown.
I heard their names alone; no more was knownThe most remarkable admission in the poem. Ferdowsi disposes of five centuries in forty lines and says plainly that his sources gave him nothing but a list of names. The silence is itself the evidence: the books he worked from descend from Sasanian chronicles, and the Sasanians had little reason to preserve the memory of the house they overthrew.
In briefA descendant of Dara, the fourth Sasan, herds Babak’s flocks. Babak dreams of him riding an elephant, then of three fires blazing before him; the interpreters promise kingship to him or his son. Babak learns his lineage, raises him up, and gives him his daughter.
When great knew his end was near,He laid before the chiefs his counsel clear:
That none should turn their thoughts to ’s domain,And Rum should thrive, secure from grief and pain.
When wisdom guides the monarch of the land,Such wholesome fruit grows from his wise command.
When fell in battle, fortune fled;His house was left with darkened days ahead.
His son was blessed with joy and noble name,Wise, brave , of royal stock and fame.
He saw his father lying with the slain,And saw ill fortune over Iran reign.
He fled before the Roman troops in dread,Escaped the snares of ruin, onward sped.
In his mournful days were done;He left behind a little boy, his son.
Each father gave his son the selfsame name;Down to the fourth, Sasan remained the same.
Each father gave his son the selfsame nameThe four Sasans in a row are a bridge. They carry the blood of Dara, and so of Esfandiyar and Goshtasb, down through four generations of shepherds to Ardeshir. The record is plainer: Ardeshir was son of a local lord of Pars, Babak, with Sasan the family’s eponym. But the poem is faithfully transmitting the Sasanians’ own claim to be the Kayanians restored.
They drove the camels, shepherded the sheep,And labored through the years in hardship deep.
The young man left in search of work and gain,In hope that wealth would ease his toil and strain.
He saw the master-shepherd on the plain,At ’s flocks, and spoke of need and pain:
“Have you some work for one who seeks his bread,Whose life in bitter need and want is led?”
The master-shepherd took him on, and bentHis back to labor till his strength was spent.
His work won favor; now his charge would beThe flocks, with all their shepherds to oversee.
One night Babak, the son of , dreamedA vision clear within his soul, which gleamed:
He saw Sasan, an Indian sword in hand,Ride a fierce elephant, majestic, grand.
All those who came before him blessed his name,And bowed to him in homage as they came.
He made the earth more fair in every part,And cleared the grief and darkness from each heart.
Next night, as sleep lay heavy on his head,His mind was stirred by thoughts that came and fled.
A worshipper of fire appeared in sight,With three fires in his hands, each one alight.
, , and Mehr shone bright,Like turning heaven in their blazing light.
Azargashasp, Kharrad, and Mehr shone brightThree fires, not three men: the great named fires of Zoroastrian Iran, which the tradition attaches to the priests, the warriors and the husbandmen, so that between them they cover the whole order of society. On Azargashasp see I, A7.1. To dream all three burning before a shepherd is to dream that the land itself will pass to him.
Before Sasan the fires in splendor glowed;In each burned aloes, and their radiance flowed.
Babak awoke, his soul disturbed and grave,And anxious thoughts rose up like wave on wave.
He summoned those whose skill in dreams was sound,In every branch of learning, wise, profound.
Nobles and counselors came to his hall;The wise men gathered there at Babak’s call.
Then Babak spoke of what his mind concealed,And told them all the dreams, each part revealed.
The interpreter listened, weighing what was said,And turned the visions over in his head.
At last he said, “Exalted king, attend:This vision must be scanned from end to end.
The man thus seen in sleep will raise his crownAbove the sun in glory and renown.
Or if the dream refers not to that one,The world itself will pass to his own son.”
Babak rejoiced at what the sages said,And fitting gifts before each one were spread.
He sent for Sasan, head shepherd of the fold,On a day of driving snow and bitter cold.
He came, his woolen wrap all snowy white;His heart was split in two by bitter fright.
Babak cleared the room; the guide withdrew,And all the servants left the chamber too.
He welcomed young Sasan and drew him near,And seated him beside him with good cheer.
He asked the shepherd’s lineage and race;The frightened man sat silent in his place.
“O prince,” he said, “first pledge that I shall live,And shield me from the harm these words may give.
Then I will tell my lineage, strand by strand;First swear your oath, and take me by the hand:
That neither open harm nor hidden illShall ever reach me through your act or will.”
Babak invoked the Giver of all good,And swore his oath, as Sasan asked he should:
“No harm from me shall ever come to you;In joy and honor I shall keep you too.”
Then said the youth, “O noble ,Know that I am the son of Sasan.
I spring from King , known to fameIn ancient chronicles by ’s name.
His father was the bold,Whose father wore the crown of gold.”
Babak, on hearing this, let fall a streamOf tears from those same eyes that saw the dream.
“Go bathe,” said Babak, “wait there till they bearThe new robes I am sending you to wear.”
He brought out royal robes to clothe Sasan,And gave a horse equipped for a Pahlevan.
He raised him from the shepherd’s humble place,And built him a grand palace, rich in grace.
Sasan was settled there, and at his callStood slaves and servants, ready in the hall.
He gave him gear and wealth in ample store,So want and need could trouble him no more.
He gave Sasan his cherished daughter’s hand,And his own crown, the emblem of command.
In briefBabak’s grandson Ardeshir is summoned to Ardavan’s court at Rey and treated like a son. On a hunt he shoots a Gur-e-Khar and contradicts the prince who claims the shot. Ardavan banishes him to the stables, where he lives quietly on his grandfather’s gold.
Nine months had passed; the moon-faced mother’s boyShone like the sun, a radiant birth of joy.
He seemed the image of great ,A source of growing joy and constant cheer.
His father looked with wonder on the child,And named him Ardeshir, and gladly smiled.
He reared him fondly, cradled at his breast,And years went by; the boy grew, richly blessed.
Discerning men, whose minds were sharp and clear,Now called the youth “Babakan Ardeshir.”
Now called the youth “Babakan Ardeshir.”Ardeshir son of Babak: Ardaxšīr ī Pābagān, the name he bears in Middle Persian. Much of this book follows, at times closely, a Middle Persian romance about him, the Kārnāmag ī Ardaxšīr ī Pābagān, the Book of the Deeds of Ardeshir son of Babak. The quarrel at the hunt, the flight with the slave girl and the worm all stand in it.
They taught him every art of hand and mind;These arts enriched the gifts his birth assigned.
In learning, face, and stature, rising high,He seemed a light that set ablaze the sky.
News of his learning reached the royal ear;King heard praise of Ardeshir:
“He is a savage lion in the fight,And, feasting, like in grace and light.”
He wrote to , of fame,And thus addressed the chief of honored name:
“O learned man of pure, discerning mind,A knowing guide, in speech and thought refined,
I hear Ardeshir, your son, is skilled in speech,A horseman quick to learn what others teach.
When you have read this letter, send him here;At once, and gladly, let the youth draw near.
I shall supply his needs and raise his nameAmong the chiefs to dignity and fame.
Among my sons he shall receive his place;I shall embrace him as of royal race.”
When Babak read, red tears ran down his face;Blood from his lashes marked their downward trace.
He summoned both the scribe and Ardeshir,The newly risen youth he held so dear.
He said, “Now read what Ardavan has penned,And weigh each word; let all your wits attend.
I now will send the king a fair reply,Through one I trust beneath the turning sky:
‘Behold, I send a gallant youth to you,My heart and eyes, approved and loyal too.
I have advised him well. When he appears,Receive him royally among your peers.
Let no misfortune touch him in that place;Not even wind should blow upon his face.’”
Then swift as wind he opened treasure’s doors,And gave the youth rich gifts from royal stores:
Gold harness, , and sword he freely gave;He held back nothing that the youth might crave.
Brocade and coins, with slaves, steeds, cloth of gold,And Chinese wares; a royal wealth to hold.
He laid before the youth each precious thing;The youth became a servant of the king.
Babak sent more gifts along with Ardeshir:Gold dinars, musk, and fragrant, sweet .
The youth left his grandfather on his way,And rode to Ardavan’s great court at .
They told the king the youth was drawing nearAnd asking leave before him to appear.
He called him in with kindness and good cheer;Of Babak he spoke much for him to hear.
He sat him near the throne, a seat of grace,And in the town arranged his dwelling place.
He sent him food and clothing, every kind,With rugs and spreads for comfort there assigned.
With nobles, Ardeshir then took his wayTo where the king had ordered him to stay.
When sunlight sat upon its throne one day,Earth, white as a Roman face, shone in its ray,
Ardeshir called the envoy to his side,And had the gifts arranged in royal pride.
He sent the gifts to royal Ardavan;The envoy bore them with a Pahlevan.
The king approved the gifts; they brought delight,And raised the youth in favor in his sight.
He held the youth as fondly as a son,And let no care distress him, no, not one.
At wine, at table, or upon the chase,He took the youth along to share his place.
He held him as his kin, in warm affection;His son and Ardeshir shared like protection.
One day, the troops and prince rode out for sport,Then scattered widely, far beyond the court.
Now Ardavan had four sons of his own,In each the signs of royal blood were shown.
Ardeshir stayed beside great Ardavan,Who prized him as a noble of Iran.
A appeared upon the plain;A clamor rose from all the hunting train.
They urged their steeds; the dust rose thick and high,And mingled with the sweat as they sped by.
Ardeshir rode ahead and neared the game,And set an arrow, taking careful aim.
He struck the male Gur-e-Khar’s rump; straight throughIts body went the point and feathers too.
Then Ardavan arrived upon the plain,And saw the fallen Gur-e-Khar lie slain.
He asked, “Whose arrow felled this quarry grand?May life remain united with that hand!”
Then Ardeshir addressed the king to say:“It was my arrow, Shah, that felled this prey.”
One prince replied, “I brought it to its fate,And now I am in search of its own mate.”
Ardeshir answered, “See, the plain is wide;With game and arrows here, let skill decide.
Then strike another with the selfsame art;A lie brings shame upon a noble heart.”
A lie brings shame upon a noble heart.”Ardeshir is sent to the stables for telling the truth, and the poem makes sure we notice which of the two young men spoke it. Hatred of the lie is the oldest ethical note in Iranian literature; on oath-breaking, its unforgivable form, see I, B9.28.
Then Ardavan grew angry with the youth,And roared at him for speaking open truth:
“The fault is mine; I never stand aloof,But nurture those who come beneath my roof.
Why should I keep you always at my side,At feast and hunt, and treat you as my pride,
So you may outshine my own son in skill,And flaunt your strength before him at your will?
Go now and tend my Arab steeds each day;Beside the royal stables you shall stay.
Be master of the stables; ply the tradeOf every groom, and lend the others aid.”
In tears, Ardeshir went to tend the steeds,His heart consumed by grief at Ardavan’s deeds.
“See how I suffer from him, how I smart!May anguish seize his body and his heart.”
He wrote his grandfather, with heart distressed,While schemes and stratagems his mind possessed.
He told the tale of all that had occurred,And why the king to such great wrath was stirred.
When Babak read the letter, he concealedIts news; to no one were its words revealed.
His heart grew dark, weighed down by sorrow’s gloom;He brought out dinars from the treasure room.
Ten thousand dinars for the youth he sent;A rider on a camel with them went.
He called the scribe and bade him ink his reed,And write to Ardeshir with thought and heed:
“O thoughtless youth, still young, recall the dayYou rode with Ardavan to hunt your prey:
Why ride before his son? Your place is clear:A servant of his house, no kinsman here.
He did you no injustice out of spite;Your witless act itself brought on this slight.
Now strive to make him pleased and satisfied;Do all his will and set your pride aside.
I send you gold, and in this letter tooHave set down all the counsel meant for you.
When you have used this sum, ask more to last,And let the passing days go drifting past.”
The old, experienced rider hastened near;His swift camel brought him to Ardeshir.
He read the letter; sorrow gripped his heart,Which turned toward guile and schemes of cunning art.
He chose a lowly lodging by his steeds,Far less than royal birth or honor needs.
With carpets, food, and garments it was dressed,And spreads of every kind were laid for rest.
He passed his days in feasting, wine and song,With strings and minstrels through the whole night long.
In briefArdavan’s favorite slave Golnar sees Ardeshir from the palace roof and climbs down to him by kamand. Babak dies. Golnar overhears the astrologers predict that a man now held low will flee and become king, and she agrees to escape with Ardeshir, taking jewels from the treasury.
Now possessed a palace tall,Where dwelt his cherished slave within its wall.
Her name was , favorite by far,Moon-faced, jewel-bright, sweet-scented as a star.
Her name was Golnar, favorite by farGolnār is the pomegranate blossom, whose scarlet gave both a dye and a byword for a glowing complexion. She keeps the keys of the treasury and sits in on the king’s counsels, so when the slave elopes she takes the crown jewels and the state secrets with her.
She kept the keys to every treasure chest,And served as counselor at his behest.
He smiled with joy whenever she was near;More than his life, he held that maiden dear.
One day she climbed the palace roof above,And there saw , and fell in love.
His smiling lips, his youth, and beauty’s artAwoke both joy and love within her heart.
She waited till the deepening fall of night,Then bound a to the rampart’s height.
Then bound a kamand to the rampart’s heightThe scene inverts the most famous tryst in the poem. Rudabeh let her braids down from the roof so that Zal could climb to her; Golnar knots a kamand, tests the knots by hand to see what weight they will bear, and lowers herself to the man. Nothing in her part of this story is passive.
She knotted it and tested it by hand,To learn what weight its knots could withstand.
She boldly climbed down by the knotted strand,Invoking God, whose favors ever stand.
In gems and musk and fragrant spice arrayed,She came with graceful steps to where he stayed.
From his brocade pillow she raised his head,And clasped him as he woke upon the bed.
He saw her face, her hair, her jeweled light,Her fragrance and adornment in the night.
He said, “How did you come before my eyesTo grace my troubled heart with such surprise?”
She answered, “I am yours in heart and soul;Your love has filled my heart and claimed it whole.
I shall come to you when you want me near,And make your darkest day shine bright and clear.”
Those words made Ardeshir’s young heart rejoice;He found delight in her, in face and voice.
Thus time passed on, until misfortune fellOn him who guided Ardeshir so well.
Wise , seasoned in the ways of men,Died, leaving this old house to others then.
When news reached Ardavan, his grief was deep;His darkened soul had only grief to keep.
The chiefs each sought to govern instead;He chose his eldest son to be their head.
He bade them bring the brazen kousts outside,And march the army to the plain stretched wide.
Ardeshir grieved for Babak, old and wise,And all the world grew dark before his eyes.
He loathed his service to the king; the newsHad turned his mind to what new course to choose.
On every side he sought escape, forlorn;He longed for flight, by grief and anger torn.
Then Ardavan called in his learned seers,Wise men who traced the planets through their spheres.
He brought a few to court to learn his fate,And seek the course his stars would indicate.
He wished to learn what future days might bring,And whom good fortune next would make a king.
He sent them to Golnar, to watch the skies,And read what fate the turning stars devise.
For three full days they toiled to calculate,And weighed the sky by measure and by date.
The treasurer heard their secrets, word by word,And marked with care the hidden things she heard.
When the third day and three night watches ceased,The girl was from those learned men released.
She sighed with longing in the deep of night,And held each secret in her memory tight.
Upon the fourth day, all the sages wentTo tell King Ardavan what heaven meant.
With tables of the stars held at their breast,They left her rooms; the king they then addressed.
They told the secrets written in the sky,Their force and scope, and how they would apply.
They said, “The lofty heavens show this thing:Soon sorrow will disturb the heart of the king.
One now held low among your court will flee,A warrior-chief of noble pedigree.
Thereafter he will rise to royal might,And bless the world beneath his fortune’s light.”
The king grew troubled at the words they said;Their forecast filled his heart with grief and dread.
When night was black as pitch, Golnar drew near,And came into the presence of Ardeshir.
He stormed like seas: “You cannot stay awayFrom Ardavan for even one whole day?”
She told him what the stargazers had said,And how the signs of kingship lay ahead.
Ardeshir grew calm and silent at the word,And chose to bear in patience what he heard.
Her words made sharp his heart’s resolve to flee;He sought the road by which he might go free.
He thought of flight and asked, “If I leave ,And seek Iran, where brave men lead the way,
Will you come with me on that dangerous road,Or stay and serve the king in this abode?
If you will come, great wealth shall be your own;And you shall be the crown upon the throne.”
She pledged to stay with him until she died:“I am your slave; I shall not leave your side.”
Cold sighs escaped her lips as thus she spoke;From both her eyes the yellow teardrops broke.
Ardeshir said, “Tomorrow we depart.”Necessity had gripped the young man’s heart.
She went back to her rooms, her life in hand,Prepared to risk herself for what she planned.
As soon as dawn had gilded earth with light,And driven back the darkness of the night,
She opened up the treasure’s golden cache,And searched through gems whose priceless colors flash.
Of rubies, royal gems, and dinars bright,She took the wealth they needed for their flight.
She reached her rooms with all the gems she bore,And laid them there, a secret, precious store.
Her heart was pained and troubled by the deed;She weighed what plans might serve her in her need.
How could she flee the king and safely go?With that young man, what future would she know?
She waited till night rose from mountain height,The king asleep, his people gone from sight.
She left the palace like an arrow’s flight,And brought the gems to Ardeshir that night.
He held a cup; his grooms were all asleep,And wine had sunk them into slumber deep.
For Ardeshir had plied them all with wine,Since he must flee in secret by design.
He chose two noble steeds, the finest bred,Now saddled at the manger where they fed.
He saw Golnar, and saw the jewels she bore;The ruddy dinars gleamed among her store.
He said, “We must be gone; we cannot stay;No longer here; now we must ride away.
May we escape this dragon’s claws and go,And save our youthful lives from all this woe.”
He put the cup aside, his purpose steady;He bridled both the Arab steeds, made ready,
Put on his , mounted, helmed, alert,And with a poison-watered blade was girt.
She mounted on the other steed to ride;Together they departed, side by side.
Together in the night to Pars they sped,Their hearts rejoicing as in stealth they fled.
Ardavan found no pleasure or delightUnless fair Golnar stood within his sight.
Upon his brocade couch he chose to stayTill Golnar’s face brought fortune to his day.
The hour had come for courtiers to convene;Brocade adorned the throne; she was not seen.
His anger rose, and grief disturbed his breast;By Golnar’s absence, he grew more distressed.
Before the gate the troops stood, one and all,While crown and throne stood ready in the hall.
Then from the court the chamberlain drew near,And spoke these words into the monarch’s ear:
“The foremost nobles of the realm await;They stand assembled at the palace gate.”
In briefArdavan learns that Golnar has fled with Ardeshir and gives chase. Villagers report a ram running behind the riders; his minister says it is Ardeshir’s farr and the pursuit is hopeless. Two strangers at a pool warn Ardeshir on. Ardavan gives up and turns back.
The monarch asked his servants, “Why todayDoes shun her duties, stay away?
Why does she leave my bedside? Does she nurseSome grievance that has made her grow averse?”
The chief scribe came with tidings to report:“Last night young deserted court.
One gray, one black, he took from royal stalls,The king’s own mounts, most prized within these walls.”
Then knew she had left his sideTo flee with Ardeshir upon that ride.
The warrior-king sprang up in wrath and ire,His heart ablaze with anger’s sudden fire.
He took a throng of horsemen in his train;His charger seemed to tread a burning plain.
He reached a noted settlement that layWith people and their herds beside the way.
He asked them, “Did you hear at break of dayThe sound of horses hurrying away?
Did two ride past, one gray horse and one black,Both pressing onward down this very track?”
A man replied, “Two riders passed this way;They rode into the plain without delay.
A mountain ram ran after them; its forceThrew dust into the air as would a horse.”
Then Ardavan asked, turning to his aide,“Why does this ram pursue the tracks they made?”
The minister replied, “That is his ,His wings toward kingship and his fortune’s star.
The minister replied, “That is his farrHere the farr is not an aura but an animal: a ram running at the fugitive’s heels, which the minister reads at once as kingship catching up with Ardeshir. Once it reaches him the chase is pointless. The same episode stands in the Middle Persian romance of his deeds (D6.4); on the farr itself, see I, A4.1.
If that ram reaches him, then call retreat;A long and grueling labor you will meet.”
There Ardavan dismounted for a stayTo eat and rest, then hurried on his way.
They followed close the tracks Ardeshir made,And Ardavan rode foremost with his aide.
Swift as the wind Ardeshir and Golnar sped,Without a pause, by fear and fortune led.
Whoever has high heaven as a friendNeed fear no harm an enemy may send.
At length Ardeshir, weary from his flight,Beheld a pool below him from a height.
Still riding, he said, “Golnar, you and IAre joined to hardship as we onward fly.
Let us dismount beside this spring; the strainHas worn both horse and rider on the plain.
Beside the water, let us rest and eat,Then ride refreshed and hasten our retreat.”
The two drew near the water, almost done;Their faces had grown yellow as the sun.
About to leave his horse, he saw besideThe pool two youths who called to him to ride.
The pool two youths who called to him to rideTwice in this book a pair of young strangers turns up at the moment of crisis and sets the king right — here at the pool, telling him not to dismount, and again at a doorway in D6.15, where two more will explain what the Worm is. Ferdowsi offers no account of either pair, and the second is rewarded with provinces.
They cried, “Be quick! The stirrup and the reinMust serve you now; ride hard across the plain.
You slipped the dragon’s jaws and burning breath;To halt now may expose your life to death.
Do not dismount to eat beside this pool;Preserve your life; let that become your rule.”
Ardeshir heard and told Golnar, “They speakGood sense; now let us ride, and safety seek.”
He pressed the stirrup, gave the charger rein,And shouldered his bright spear to cross the plain.
Behind them Ardavan came like a blast,His soul in toil and shadow overcast.
When half the day had passed, the burning sun,The world’s bright lamp, still had its course to run,
He saw a thriving city, fair and wide;Its people hurried out from every side.
He asked the noted : “RecountThe hour that valiant rider spurred his mount.”
Their leader answered, “King of fortune bright,Whose thoughts are pure and whose intent is right,
Just as the sun grew yellow, losing light,And lapis cloaked the world with spreading night,
Two riders hurried past, their mouths gone dry,Their faces thick with dust as they rode by.
Behind one rider ran a ram so rare,No painted palace creature could compare.
With ’s wings and peacock’s tail it sped,With ’s ears and hooves and mighty head.
Like redbud blossom, crimson; in its speed,A storm wind; none recalls so strange a breed.”
The minister said, “King, give up this chase;Return from here to your accustomed place.
Assemble troops and all the gear to fight;The contest now stands in a different light.
His fortune rides behind him; have a care:To follow farther is to grasp at air;
Write to your son concerning this pursuit,And set the whole in order, branch and root.
Perhaps your son may track him and restrainThis ram before it grows a lion’s mane.”
When Ardavan had heard, he knew his dayOf high renown was passing into gray.
Within that city, Ardavan then stayedAnd praised the One from whom all good is made.
In briefArdavan orders his son Bahman to hunt Ardeshir down in secret. Ardeshir reaches the water, is recognized as Kayanian by the old boatman, and gathers the scattered kin of Babak and Dara. He claims the throne as Esfandiyar’s heir, founds a city, and rides for Istakhr.
At dawn, when night had yielded to the day,He bade his troops return without delay.
His cheeks as pale as reeds, the king rode back;By night he reached great along the track.
He wrote his son: “Deceit has upward grownAnd raised its head toward the crown and throne.
So swiftly has fled my sight,No arrow ever matched him in its flight.
Toward he rides; in secret seek his trail,And tell no other person of this tale.”
Ardeshir reached the water, raised his prayer:“O Helper, You have saved me from his snare.
You kept me safe from that man’s wicked hand;May he find nothing good in all the land.”
He rested, called the boatman, then beganTo tell his past to that seafaring man.
The wise old sailor looked upon his guest,His stature and his features and his chest.
He knew the youth was of line,And joyed to see his and splendor shine.
He knew the youth was of Kayanian lineA ferryman reads royal descent off a young man’s build and face. In this book fortune is visible: the ram at his heels, the bearing a boatman can recognize, the strength that will give away Mehrak’s daughter at the well (D7.5). Blood shows, and the poem keeps proving it.
He hurried to the water, took command,And sent his boats toward every distant strand.
At famed Ardeshir’s name, along that shore,An army gathered, swelling more and more.
In , too, the kin of heard,And glory rose in every heart and word.
The line of , scattered through the land,Were men of name, a widely honored band.
At news of Ardeshir, their joy took hold;Their hearts grew young, although their years were old.
From mountain, sea, and city, troop on troop,The people came and formed a widening group.
Counselors and sages joined his side,Around the youth who bore the royal pride.
Young Ardeshir then raised his voice and said,“O chiefs whose souls with wisdom’s light are fed,
Of all the sages gathered here, no one,No counselor, can doubt what has been done.
All know the shame that has sown,The baseness that through all the world was known.
All know the shame that Iskandar has sownArdeshir’s case for himself is a case against the whole Ashkanian interval: Iskandar broke the lawful line, Ardavan holds what belongs to Esfandiyar’s heirs, and the new dynasty is therefore a restoration and not a beginning. This is the Sasanian account of Sasanian legitimacy, and it is why the poem gave Sasan a pedigree reaching back to Dara (D6.3).
He slew my ancestors with wrongful handAnd seized, against all right, the royal land.
I spring from ’s exalted line,Yet holds what is rightly mine.
We cannot call this justice, nor can thoughtAccept as just the rule that force has wrought.
Give me your help; I will not yield my right,Nor let a rival seize the realm by might.
What answer do you give? Speak fair and true;Declare the counsel that is held by you.”
Then all who stood assembled in that place,Both men of counsel and the warrior race,
Rose at his words and answered from the heart;They spoke their inmost thoughts, concealing no part.
They answered: “We, the heirs of Babak’s line,Rejoice to see your royal fortune shine.
We sons of gird ourselves to fight,To claim the vengeance that is ours by right.
Our souls and bodies wait at your command;Our joys and griefs lie wholly in your hand.
Your worth through father, mother, blood, and nameSurpasses ours and grants you kingship’s claim.
We shall make mountains level with the plain,Our swords turn waters crimson with the slain.”
When young Ardeshir heard their loyal cries,Past Venus, Mercury, his head would rise.
He blessed the chiefs; his thoughts of vengeance woke,And spread within his heart like rising smoke.
Beside the water, on the site he chose,A city by his bold design arose.
A Mobad spoke: “O Shah of fortune bright,Who wins men’s hearts and fills them with delight,
You now renew the kingship of the land;First clear fair Pars of weeds with steady hand,
Then turn on Ardavan while you are strong,And fortune young; to you these days belong.
His wealth exceeds the other Tribal Kings’;From him will come the grief that warfare brings.
But once his throne is shattered by your hand,No other king shall challenge your command.”
Ardeshir heard the counsel with delight,And judged the Mobad’s words both wise and right.
When sunlight crowned the mountain peaks with day,He left for Istakhr, riding on his way.
News reached , Ardavan’s eldest son;His heart grew dark with grief at what was done.
He did not linger on his throne of might,But gathered troops and weapons for the fight.
In briefTabak of Jahram deserts Ardavan and brings his troops and seven sons over. Ardeshir distrusts him until he swears on the Avesta and Zand, then makes him chief among his counselors. After prayer at a fire, Ardeshir routs Bahman, takes Istakhr, and shares out Babak’s wealth.
There was a noble , by name,With arms and troops and counsel known to fame.
He ruled in , veteran, wise, and old,A seasoned lord whose word was firm and bold.
He had seven noble sons, and when he heardOf young ’s rise, his heart was stirred.
From Jahram then he came in battle train,Troops, tabiras, deserting ’s reign.
When he beheld Ardeshir, as was right,He left his horse and hastened to his sight.
He kissed his feet and spoke of ’s fame,Recalling much about that royal name.
The prince received him with a gracious face,And praised his swift arrival at that place.
Yet caution still arose within his breast,For fear of Tabak gave his heart no rest.
Since great Tabak commanded such a force,He watched him on the march along their course.
The veteran understood his hidden fear,For long experience made his vision clear.
He brought Avesta and the Zand, and stoodTo swear by God, the source of every good:
He brought Avesta and the Zand, and stoodThe Zand is the Middle Persian translation and commentary on the Avesta, and the two are regularly named together, as here, for the most binding oath available. Europeans who met the phrase secondhand took it for the title of a single book, which is how the old term Zend-Avesta came about.
He said, “May God cut short Tabak’s poor life,If in my heart there lives deceit or strife.
When news first reached me of Shah Ardeshir,Who brought his army to the water here,
I wearied of King that dayAs young men tire of women old and gray.
Know this: I am your slave in heart and will,Patient and kind, to guard your secrets still.”
Ardeshir probed him with a searching gaze,And found him loyal, true in every phrase.
He treated him as father, grave and sage,And set him over chiefs of name and age.
His doubts dispelled, he sought the sacred flameOf Ram , and called upon God’s name.
Of Ram Kharrad, and called upon God’s nameBefore marching, the king goes to a named fire and asks for victory there. The great shrines of Zoroastrian Iran had names, histories and reputations of their own, and one of the three that Babak saw burning in his dream (D6.3) was likewise called Kharrad.
He prayed to God to guide him in the rightAnd lead him toward all goodness by His light.
He asked for triumph in each new pursuit,And that his tree of majesty bear fruit.
He sought his tent, where troops were brought to view,His steward at the muster with him too.
He paid the soldiers, armed them for the fight,And called on God, whose gifts are never slight.
His force stood like a leopard, fierce and strong;He marched on Bahman with that warlike throng.
The armies neared; their champions sought the field,Advancing in their might, too proud to yield.
On either side the ranks were ranged and braced,With Indian swords and spears, the foe they faced.
They clashed like fighting lions, and the floodThey poured ran like a stream of flowing blood.
They fought until the sun grew yellow; thenThe air was thick with dust, the ground with men.
When heaven spread its turquoise canopy,Tabak’s whole army joined the battle’s sea.
A wind arose; a pitch-black cloud drew near;From out the army’s center came Ardeshir,
Then Ardavan’s son Bahman fled the fight,His body pierced with arrows, heart in night.
With s blaring through the arrow-rain,Shah Ardeshir pursued him on the plain.
They reached , where Bahman held his crown,The city of his glory and renown.
The Shah’s renown went out through every land,And countless troops came flocking to his hand.
They showed him all the wealth that gainedThrough toil and hardship, gathered and retained.
Ardeshir shared those riches with his train,Then marched from to wage his next campaign.
In briefArdavan brings up his armies; after forty days of fighting a black storm breaks his men’s nerve, and he is captured and cut in two at Ardeshir’s order. Two sons are imprisoned, two flee to Hindustan. Ardeshir marries Ardavan’s daughter and founds Khorra-e-Ardeshir.
When news reached , dread seized his heart,And gloom obscured his judgment’s better part.
He said, “A counselor once read the skyAnd told me what its hidden signs imply.
Yet can a man, by caution or by care,Escape the snares that fortune may prepare?
I never thought ’s heart would dareTo win renown and cities everywhere.”
He opened treasuries, assigned the grain,Made ready baggage for the long campaign.
From and from came the train;Its dust rose to the moon above the plain.
Ardeshir led out legions, vast and strong,The wind seemed trapped and helpless in their throng.
Two bowshots only lay between each side;No snake could rest beneath the earth and hide.
The tabiras and long horns blared; gongs rang,And Indian bells replied with clash and clang.
The banners waved, the blades of blue steel shone,The armies roared as heads to earth were thrown.
For forty days the battle raged away,Till common folk had nowhere safe to stay.
All food grew scarce; the routes for stores were strained,And little passage for supplies remained.
The plain grew mountain-like with heaps of slain,The wounded tired of life beneath their pain.
At last a mighty sable cloud arose,And brought a halt to battle’s crushing blows.
A frightful storm swept down upon the field;The warriors’ hearts with fear and anguish reeled.
The mountains echoed, and the plain was torn,While thunder through the shaken air was borne.
Then Ardavan’s men, shaken through with dread,Agreed as one upon the words they said:
“This judgment comes from God upon our king;For our poor ranks, what grief and tears will spring!”
When battle reached its fiercest, every sageBegged quarter in the midst of all that rage.
Then from the center charged brave Ardeshir,While clashing steel and arrow-showers drew near.
Amid the fighting Ardavan was caught;His crown would cost the life for which he fought.
A man named seized him by the reinsAnd brought him to the prince, a king in chains.
He led the captive king to Ardeshir;The Shah looked out and saw him drawing near.
King Ardavan dismounted from his steed,His body pierced, his wounds still made him bleed.
His soul was dark. Ardeshir gave command:“Executioner, take this foe in hand.
With your , cut him in two,” he said,“Across the waist, and fill our foes with dread.”
With your khanjar, cut him in two,” he saidCutting a captured rival in two at the waist is the poem’s regular sentence on a defeated king, and Ardeshir passes it on the man who fed and raised him. Ardavan is Artabanus, last of the Arsacids; his defeat is usually dated to AD 224, the year from which the Sasanian era is reckoned.
The headsman did as Ardeshir had willed;And by his hand that famous king was killed.
Such is the ancient sky’s relentless way:Both Ardavan and Ardeshir must pay.
Both Ardavan and Ardeshir must payThe narrator interrupts his own hero’s triumph to level the two kings: the sky that raised one will bury the other. From here on this aside becomes almost a refrain in the Sasanian books, and it is the note on which the whole poem eventually ends.
Whom heaven raises to the stars on high,It gives at last to dust beneath the sky.
Two sons of Ardavan were captive made;On ’s proud line the shame was laid.
Their feet in fetters, by the Shah’s decree,They went to prison, stripped of liberty.
Two elder sons escaped the bitter fight,And slipped beyond the victor’s net in flight.
They fled in tears to ; their plightDeserves a tale for others to recite.
The field was strewn with horse gear, belt, and blade,With gold and silver, weapons all displayed.
By royal order all those spoils were stored,Then granted to the troops by their new lord.
Then stepped out from the noble bandAnd cleansed the king of blood with grieving hand.
He washed him, weeping, of the battle stain,And built a royal for the slain.
He dressed the wounded breast in rich brocade,And on his head a camphor crown was laid.
Of all the troops that later went to ,None trod his palace grounds along the way.
Tabak then came before Shah Ardeshir,And said, “O king, incline your heart and hear:
Ask Ardavan’s own daughter for your bride;Farr, beauty, crown, and throne are on her side.
His diadem and treasure you will gain,The wealth he gathered through long toil and pain.”
The Shah accepted what the elder said,And asked for Ardavan’s own child to wed.
A month or two he stayed within that hall,A wealthy chief whose troops were wealthy all.
From Rey the monarch, weary of the war,Returned to , and rested from its roar.
He built a city, gardens, courts, and halls,With springs and fields and valleys in its walls.
The old still calls it, speaking clear,By its own name of .
By its own name of Khorra-e-ArdeshirArdashīr-khwarrah, ‘the glory of Ardeshir’, his new foundation in Pars, which the poem says came later to be called Gur. Its remains, a walled city laid out as a near-perfect circle on the plain near modern Firuzabad, are among the most striking Sasanian sites, and the spring and water channels of these lines belong to the same place.
Within, a spring ran ceaseless from its source,And fed the channels in their winding course.
He raised beside the spring a house of fire,Where and relit its pyre.
Around it gardens, courts, and halls were laid,A spacious place magnificently made.
When that wise Shah of and strength was gone,The border-chief called it from then on.
He founded villages around that land,And settled people there by his command.
He saw a deep lake, but the mountain layBetween its waters and their destined way.
They brought skilled workers, picks, and tools, and boredA hundred channels where the waters poured.
He led the channels down to Gur below,Where homes and herds increased with water’s flow.
In briefArdeshir attacks the Kurds, is beaten, and escapes with a handful of men to a shepherds’ fire on a mountain, where he sleeps on his khaftan. Guided down to the villages, he sends word to his court, learns the Kurds think him finished, and picks eleven thousand men.
From ’s gates the Shah rode to the field,With mighty troops and many a sword and shield.
He sought God’s blessing for a righteous deed:To make the robbers of that country bleed.
When he drew near, the Kurds advanced in might,In countless ranks that crowded all his sight.
When he drew near, the Kurds advanced in mightIn sources of this period ‘Kurd’ is generally used more loosely than it is now, for herding and tent-dwelling populations of the uplands rather than for a single people. The shepherds who take the beaten king in a few lines later, with their goats and their curdled milk, belong to the same world as the enemies who beat him.
What first had seemed a light and passing thingBecame a grievous trial for the king.
The people rose to join the Kurdish side,Whose greater numbers filled the country wide.
All day the burning battle raged and swayed,Till all the Shah’s disheartened troops gave way.
The field grew narrow with the maimed and slain,Their bodies crowded all the fighting plain.
Of all his chiefs, not one would now remain;The Shah had but a small and humble train.
Their tongues were cracked with thirst from dust and heat;The burning sun upon their bodies beat.
When night unfurled its flag and ended strife,And stilled the clash that threatened every life,
The Shah saw fire upon the mountain height,And led his few survivors toward the light.
turned toward its distant glow;His handful following where he would go.
He drew up close and saw the shepherds keepTheir watch upon the herds of goats and sheep.
The Shah and all his men dismounted, worn;Their mouths were thick with dust from battle borne.
He asked the shepherds there for drink with haste;They brought him water, curdled milk to taste.
He ate a little of their fare, at ease,Then drew his off in night’s cool breeze.
He spread his khaftan out to make his bed;His royal helmet lay beneath his head.
He spread his khaftan out to make his bedArdeshir is defeated three times in this book, and here he sleeps on the ground with his helmet for a pillow and drinks what herdsmen give him. The founder of the dynasty is assembled out of reverses in a way no Kayanian hero ever is: one of the first signs that the poem has moved from legend into chronicle.
When dawn rose from the deep with light of day,The Shah awoke where on the ground he lay.
The chief of herdsmen hastened to his side:“May peace attend your days and nights,” he cried.
“What trouble brought you to this mountain height?This is no fitting place to rest at night.”
The Shah then asked the shepherd, “Show the way:Where can I find a sheltered place to stay?”
The chief replied, “No settled place is nearThat you can reach without a guide from here.
A guide can lead you four farsangs by trailDown to the nearest hamlets in the vale.
Beyond, the villages lie close and spread;In each, a well-known chief stands at its head.”
He took old herdsmen, guides who knew the ground,To lead him where those villages were found.
Down to the village then the Shah descended;Its headman came to meet him, and attended.
He sent out mounted heralds to reportBack to ’s great court.
When news of him had reached the royal train,The troops set out, rejoicing, through the plain.
He sent out scouts to watch the Kurdish force,And learn in secret all their actions’ course.
They hurried out and then returned to bringTheir secret tidings back before the king:
“They seek renown and all rejoice and cheer;No thought of you has stirred a moment’s fear.
They think you sit in Istakhr, worn and weak,Your aging fortune fading as they speak.”
The Shah rejoiced and cast the past aside;His former loss no longer checked his stride.
From all his seasoned troops he chose the best,Ten thousand swordsmen, mounted for the test.
A thousand archers joined, each bowman skilled,With quivers at his side, with arrows filled.
In briefArdeshir rides through half the night and falls on the sleeping Kurdish camp, killing many and taking captives past counting. He gives their lands and money to his troops, makes no boast of the victory, and returns to Istakhr to rest his men before the next war.
He led his troops as sunset spread its veil,And left the weak behind as day grew pale.
When half the night had passed, across the groundHe neared the Kurds, with darkness all around.
The plain was filled with men who lay asleep;His soldiers’ hearts were seething, poised to leap.
reached the camp where Kurds lay still,And loosed his charger’s rein to speed at will.
He drew his sword and charged across the plain,And crowned the grass with blood of warriors slain.
The heads and hands of Kurds lay all around;Full sixty upon sixty strewed the ground.
Captives past number fell into his hand;Their pride and folly could no longer stand.
He gave their lands as spoil to all his men,And dealt out crowns and bags of money then.
An elder might across the plain conveyGold on his head, borne safely in a tray;
Gold on his head, borne safely in a trayThe old man who can carry uncovered gold across open country and be neither robbed nor even looked at is the standard Persian measure of a just reign. The Shahnameh applies it to more than one king, and it went on serving the prose mirrors for princes long after the poem was finished.
No man would glance at it or lift a hand;His fortune and his justice ruled the land.
He made no boast of prowess in the fray,But back to turned upon his way.
He bade them, “Let your horses’ strength renew;Put all the riders’ weapons right and true.
When feasting has restored your strength and might,Then turn your thoughts again toward the fight.”
The warriors ate and loosened every belt,Then rested from the toil their bodies felt.
Ardeshir’s mind on war was firmly set;Now hear and keep in mind; do not forget.
In briefAt Kojaran a spinning girl finds a worm in an apple and her day’s output doubles. Her father Haftvad grows rich on its luck, seizes the city, and builds a mountain fortress. The worm swells to the bulk of an elephant, and no army that faces it can win.
Now hear the strange, eventful tale I tell,The ’s tale of marvels that befell.
Of beside the Persian shore,And ’s breadth and height, he tells us more.
The city, cramped and crowded, held a throng;Each earned his food by labor all day long.
Young maidens labored daily for their bread,Compelled by need to keep their bodies fed.
Beside the city rose a mountain height;Together all the girls would reach that site.
Each bore a poplar case, her distaff stowed,And cotton weighed to be her daily load.
They gathered daily by the city gate,And walked toward the mountain with their freight.
They pooled their food, and when the meal was laid,An equal portion went to every maid.
Their talk was not of rest or midday bread,But who could spin the greatest length of thread.
At night they journeyed home, their labor done,The cotton into patterned yarn now spun.
lived there, a man of little gold,Yet cheerful in his nature, we are told.
And why was he called Haftvad? You shall hear:His seven sons had made the meaning clear.
And why was he called Haftvad? You shall hearThe poem derives the name from his seven sons. In the Middle Persian romance of Ardeshir’s deeds he appears as Haftān-bōxt, read by tradition as ‘saved by the seven’, that is by the seven planets — fortune granted by the sky, which is what this story turns on. Specialists now doubt that reading and trace the name instead to an old title for the lord of a seventh part of a province.
He had one daughter, cherished from her birth;Yet he esteemed all daughters of no worth.
One day the girls together took their place,And sat with spindles at the mountain’s base.
They pooled the food they brought to eat that day,And at their meal set all their tools away.
Beside the path the lucky maiden foundAn apple blown down from a tree to ground.
She saw it, picked it up, and held it near;Now hear the wondrous tale I tell you here.
She bit the fruit, and in its flesh she spiedA worm that lay within the apple’s side.
A worm that lay within the apple’s sideThe creature is a kerm, a word that runs from a worm in fruit to a dragon, much as the Norse ormr covers both. It begins as luck in a girl’s spindle case and ends as a fed and clothed monster with an army behind it, and the story has always been known by its name: the Worm of Haftvad.
She lifted it with fingers from its place,And set it gently in her distaff case.
She took the cotton, saying as she spun,“In God’s name, peerless, partnerless, and One!
Today, through this small worm, you all shall seeWhat wondrous spinning fortune brings to me.”
The girls grew merry, laughing in delight,And flashed their silver teeth, all clear and bright.
That day she doubled all she had to spin,And on the ground marked what she gathered in.
She hurried home like smoke and showed the skein;Her mother praised her labor and her gain.
Her mother blessed her lovingly: “Well done!Fair-faced, what starry favor you have won!”
Next dawn she counted yarn that she had twined;She took a double share with eager mind.
With heart and body bent on spinning more,She joined her friends where she had spun before.
She told the other girls with laughing cheer,“O moon-faced friends, whom lucky stars hold dear:
By this worm’s fortune I shall spin so wellThat poverty with me shall never dwell.”
She spun the doubled share, and could have spunStill more, so readily the work was done.
She bore the yarn back home; her mother’s eyesBeheld it, and her heart was Paradise.
Each dawn she brought an apple for its meal,And fed the worm with patient, tender zeal.
However large the cotton share might grow,The artful girl could spin it all just so.
One day her parents questioned her to seeThe secret of her great ability.
“Have you, pure maiden, made a fairy kin,Your sister, that so much your hands can spin?”
The maiden told her mother all the tale:The apple, worm, and luck that did not fail.
She showed the lucky worm to both, and brightTheir hearts became, rejoicing at the sight.
Haftvad received it as an omen, glad,And put aside all other work he had.
He spoke of nothing but that worm’s good fate;His aged fortune grew both young and great.
Time passed; his prospects widened day by day,And brighter grew his fortunes on the way.
They would not slight the worm or stint its feed;They tended it and nourished it with heed.
It grew in strength and size, and colors spreadIn beauty on its back and on its head.
It soon outgrew the case in which it lay;Its skin grew black as musk from day to day.
Across that blackness saffron markings ran,And covered all its back in one broad span.
Haftvad prepared a sable chest with skill,And lodged the growing creature safe and still.
He rose in honor, consequence, and gold,And all his seven sons had wealth to hold.
Within that city people soon beganTo seek Haftvad as judge and leading man.
The city’s governor, of martial fame,Had troops and wealth and rank to match his name.
He sought a pretext, plotting every day,To take the low-born man’s dinars away.
Yet many nobles took Haftvad’s side,And joined his seven warlike sons in pride.
From Kojaran the ’s summons rang;With spears and swords and arrows forth they sprang.
Haftvad himself advanced before the train,And showed his valor in the battle’s strain.
He took the city, struck its ruler down,And seized his gems and treasure in the town.
The people gathered round him in their might;From Kojaran he moved toward the height.
He built a fortress on the mountain crest;The townsfolk joined him there and made their nest.
He fitted iron gates to guard the place,A home in peace, in war a sheltered base.
Upon the mountain-top a spring ran clear,Its waters entering the fortress here.
Around it he built walls of towering height,Whose summits rose beyond the gazer’s sight.
When once again the worm outgrew its chest,They built a masonry tank at his behest.
When stone and mortar warmed within the air,They placed the worm inside with gentle care.
Each dawn the keeper hurried on his way,From Haftvad’s presence at the break of day.
He made a great rice ration for its feed;The worm consumed it all to meet its need.
Five years passed by; its neck and body spread,An elephant in bulk from tail to head.
His daughter kept the creature at her side;Her father led its troops with martial pride.
In Chinese silk they clothed the worm with heed,While rice and milk and honey met its need.
In Chinese silk they clothed the worm with heedFed on rice, milk and honey, dressed in silk, housed in a masonry tank and served by sixty attendants, the worm is given the care of a cult image rather than a pet. Readers have long suspected a hostile memory of some real shrine in Pars behind the tale, and the coastal setting and the silk have suggested trade as well.
The foolish man rejoiced in it the more;Haftvad, its chieftain, waited at its door.
From Chin’s far sea to spread his band;His armies stretched across the whole broad land.
His seven sons, ten thousand swordsmen strong,Had treasure, arms, and war gear borne along.
Whatever king against him came to fight,And brought his army near the worm’s dread might,
That army would be broken in its turn;The tale spread far for all the world to learn.
So famed and mighty grew Haftvad’s high hold,No wind could stir around its ramparts bold.
In briefArdeshir’s advance force is destroyed by troops Haftvad has hidden in the hills. The Shah comes himself; Haftvad’s son Shahvi arrives by boat, and the two armies fight to a standstill. Ardeshir withdraws to the shore, where his men begin to starve with the roads cut.
When heard news of ’s name,Displeasure stirred his heart and lit his flame.
He sent against that chief a chosen band,High-starred and valiant warriors of the land.
When Haftvad heard, he held the threat as light,And gave no thought to those who sought the fight.
He hid his troops within a mountain fold,Then marched to battle with his warriors bold.
When battle raged, and gorzes, face to face,And battle-axes thundered in that place,
The hidden troops emerged to join the fray;For Iran’s chiefs, the earth grew black that day.
No man could tell his hands from feet; the groundItself, it seemed, had held their feet fast bound.
On dale and mountain such a slaughter grewThat even victors tired of those they slew.
Whoever lived came swiftly from the fight,Back to the Shah from that disastrous plight.
Renowned Ardeshir learned what war had wrought:The slaughter, plunder, and the battle fought.
In grief he called his army to array;He hurried to distribute arms and pay.
Then angrily the Shah advanced; on highThe base-born chieftain’s head rose toward the sky.
He brought forth arms and treasure from his hold,And scorned the war and army, growing bold.
His eldest son, who then was far away,Heard that his father stood in war’s array.
He left his ease, his feasting, and his sleep,And came by boat across the water deep.
, the world-seeker, was his name;Ill temper and foul speech went with his fame.
He left the boat and came to Haftvad’s side;The sight brought joy his father could not hide.
Haftvad arranged his station on the right,Commanding and arraying troops for fight.
Both armies stood well-furnished and supplied,With treasure stored and hatred deep inside.
The young Shah’s heart grew old with grief and dread,When he beheld the armies massed ahead.
They drew their battle lines on either side;From sun and swords the heat rose far and wide.
From elephants the mighty kousts rang out;At two farsangs, men swooned beneath that shout.
From elephants the mighty kousts rang outKettledrums carried on elephants. The Sasanians took both the beasts and the practice from India, and from here to the end of the poem elephants are standard equipment in a royal army rather than an exotic sight. On the drums themselves, see I, B10.4.
Karnays roared high; the tabiras gave sound,Their clamor filling all the world around.
Earth shook beneath the horseshoes’ nails and tread;Chiefs’ banners made the air a tulip red.
As gorzes rang on helmets in the fight,The heavens hailed the earth from their great height.
Wind-footed chargers tore the ground; the slainLeft severed heads strewn through the pass and plain.
So vast was Haftvad’s army, one might say,“The sea is lashed by winds in wild array.”
No ant or fly could find a place to stand,Both armies packed so close upon the land.
When daylight waned, and night across the worldIts cloak of lapis lazuli had hurled,
Ardeshir drew his forces from the war;Behind him lay the water and its shore.
The verdigris-green sea grew black with night;Scouts from both armies came within its sight.
The Shah’s men then grew faint for lack of bread;The foe had blocked the road by which they fed.
The foe had blocked the road by which they fedHunger, blocked roads and failing supply decide more in these books than single combat does. It is a change of key: the legendary volumes turn on duels between named champions, while Ardeshir is beaten by logistics and will have to win by a trick.
In briefWhile Ardeshir is pinned against the sea, Mehrak sacks his capital and gives the treasure away to his soldiers. As the Shah sits down to eat, an arrow buries itself in the roast lamb, carrying a taunt from the fortress two farsang away.
In lived , ’s son,Whose line from kings had run.
In Jahram lived Mehrak, Nushzad’s sonMehrak’s raid looks at first like one more setback in a book full of them. It turns out to be the hinge of the reign: Ardeshir will wipe out his line for it, and then learn from Kayd of Hind that his own house cannot prosper until it is joined to Mehrak’s (D7.4, D7.6).
He heard how Shah marched away,And by the sea in hunger had to stay.
He learned what hardship held the troops in thrall,With roads barred shut and food denied them all.
From Jahram to the palace marched his band,With countless troops brought in at his command.
He gave the royal treasure as the spoil,With crowns and purses for his soldiers’ toil.
The Shah beside the sea received the word,And anxious thoughts within his spirit stirred.
He said, “Why leave my home without defense,To wage a foreign war at such expense?”
He called the chiefs and spoke of Mehrak’s raid,And told at length what havoc he had made.
“What counsel now can answer this dark need?Our means are straitened; how shall we proceed?
Much have I drunk from fortune’s bitter cup,Yet never dreamed that Mehrak would rise up.”
They raised their voices, crying, “May our kingBe spared the evil days that time may bring.
Since Mehrak was a hidden foe, why bearThe world’s adversity with such despair?
You hold high greatness; yours the world’s command.We are your slaves and wait beneath your hand.”
He ordered tables spread with cups and wine;Musicians played before the royal line.
They set roast lambs in plenty on the board,And all bent down to eat with one accord.
But when Ardeshir first began to eat,A pointed arrow struck the roasted meat.
It struck the plump roast lamb and sank from sight,Its whole length buried in the flesh outright.
The wise and warlike nobles, filled with dread,Drew back their hands at once from meat and bread.
Each heart bled anguish; none could bear the feast.One drew the arrow from the roasted beast.
They saw the writing on the shaft; aloudA scribe among them read it to the crowd.
In the words addressed the king:“Wise Shah, give ear to what these letters bring.
In Pahlavi the words addressed the kingPahlavi, Middle Persian, was the language of the Sasanian chancery and of the books that lie behind these chapters; Shapur will be taught to write it in D7.3. Here Ferdowsi has the insult on the arrow-shaft written in it, and the impossible range of the shot is the Worm’s fortune showing itself.
From our high fortress roof this shaft was sent;The Worm’s good fortune guards each battlement.
Had I aimed this arrow at Ardeshir,Its very feathers would have pierced him clear.
A monarch such as he should not engageThe Worm in warfare in this present age.”
Before Shah Ardeshir, the reader readThe words borne on the sharpened shaft that sped.
The fortress stood two farsangs from their place;The words brought dread to every noble face.
Yet all invoked the blessing God bestowsUpon earth’s king, whose royal grace still glows.
In briefIn flight, Ardeshir is sheltered by two young men who tell him the Worm is Ahriman’s creature and cannot be beaten by force. He kills Mehrak, leaves Shahrgeer in command, enters the fortress as a merchant, drinks the keepers senseless, and feeds the Worm molten metal.
That night the Shah thought long upon the Worm,And feared the power that kept its fortune firm.
When sun displaced the moon, he marched away,And led his army toward that day.
The foe pursued and blocked the roads around,So no clear passage for the Shah was found.
They cut his noted chiefs down in the flight;He fled with his own comrades from their might.
Behind him rose the cry: “The Worm’s good star!May fortune make its throne shine bright afar!”
All marveled at the strange event and said,“Here is a thing to ponder in our dread.”
As he fled on through hill and desert wide,He saw a spacious city at his side.
They drove their horses onward, hard and fast,Like wolves across the rising ground they passed.
As he drew near, a house came into view,And at its door stood young men, strangers, two.
He halted there with those who still remained;The honest youths saw men by travel strained.
They asked, “Where have you come from, here so late,With dust upon you, in this troubled state?”
He said, “ passed along this way;We lagged behind amid the disarray.
He flees from and the Worm in fear,And from the base-born, worthless troops they rear.”
The two young men sprang up to hear his woe;Their hearts grew dark with grief at such a blow.
They helped him from his saddle to the ground,And blessed the noble chiefs who stood around.
They furnished pleasant quarters for their stay,And set a meal before them in array.
The warriors sat beside the Shah to eat;The two young hosts attended them at meat.
They said, “Exalted one, beneath the sunNo grief or joy endures when once begun.
Recall what wrong the tyrant wrought,What ruin to the royal throne he brought.
Remember how brought pain,And made the hearts of many monarchs wane.
And how came and struck them down,The kings who wore the world’s imperial crown.
All these have gone and left an evil name;No bliss of Paradise shall these men claim.
So Haftvad too shall fall from power and pride,And writhe in woe when fortune turns aside.”
The Shah’s heart freshened like a rose in spring;Their gracious speech relieved the burdened king.
Their counsel eased the burden on his soul;He told his secret and again grew whole.
“I am Ardeshir; ’s son am I.I need your counsel; give me your reply.
How deal with Haftvad and the Worm he rears?May name and line be lost to future years.”
When Iran’s chief revealed his royal name,Both youths bowed down before his kingly frame.
They said, “All hail to you, O king, and mayThe hand of evil ever keep away.
We both are slaves to you in heart and soul;May lasting strength preserve your spirit whole.
As for the question you have set in view,We shall give counsel clear and sound to you.
Against the Worm and Haftvad, force will failUnless you leave fair dealing’s open trail.
Their stronghold crowns the mountain, high and bold,With Worm and troops and treasure in its hold.
The town in front, the sea behind is spread;A rough path climbs the fortress overhead.
The Worm was born from ’s dark brain,The Maker’s enemy, the source of stain.
The Worm was born from Ahriman’s dark brainThis settles what kind of story it is. Creeping and crawling things belong in Zoroastrian thought to Ahriman’s creation — the khrafstar, vermin a pious man was encouraged to destroy — so killing the Worm is a religious duty and not merely a stratagem. On Ahriman, see I, A3.1.
You call it worm, yet hidden in its skinA bloodthirsty is housed within.”
Ardeshir heard their words and felt relief;Their counsel lifted all his weight of grief.
He said, “So let this secret art proceed;To you belong the praise or blame of deed.”
The young men answered, and their words made clearA counsel pleasing to his prudent ear.
“We stand before you, servants at your side,And ever toward the good your steps will guide.”
Made glad by them, he hastened to his cause,His heart intent on justice and its laws.
The youths accompanied the Shah that day;He left with ardent heart and rode away.
He held his head high, strong in hope and cheer,And reached the town of .
Troops, sages, counselors of noble nameFlocked to the Shah as tidings of him came.
He rested, gave supplies to everyone,Then marched on , ’s faithless son.
Since Mehrak dared not venture out to fight,The world grew narrow for him, dark as night.
When Shah Ardeshir drew near ’s height,The faithless Mehrak hid himself from sight.
The king grew wrathful, lingered, and delayedHis march until the traitor was waylaid.
He struck with Indian steel and cleft his neck,Then cast in flames the body’s headless wreck.
All captives of his lineage were slain;His left none living of that train.
One daughter hid herself and slipped the snare;The city rang with searches everywhere.
Then toward the Worm’s dark tower he repaired,While all his men for combat now prepared.
He chose twelve thousand horsemen, fierce and tried,Veteran riders gathered to his side.
When all his scattered troops had gathered round,He led them where two mountains flanked the ground.
A prudent man named took commandOf all the troops that waited in that land.
The Shah said, “Stay here, watchful at this base;Keep outposts manned and watching every place.
Choose shrewd horsemen, guides, and watchmen too,And send out riders every pathway through.
Safeguard the camp by night and through the day;For I myself will take a hidden way.
Now I shall use my ancestor’s device: showed how such arts suffice.
Esfandiyar showed how such arts sufficeArdeshir names his model: Esfandiyar took Ruyin Dezh disguised as a merchant with chests on pack animals (II, C7). The poem is explicit that the first Sasanian is copying a Kayanian ancestor, which is exactly the claim of descent the dynasty wanted made for it.
If watchmen see by day a smoke-cloud rise,Or fire by night like sunlight in the skies,
Know then the Worm’s whole course has reached its close;Its star has set; its trade no longer grows.”
He chose seven men, all lions in the fight,Brave chiefs who kept his secret sealed from sight.
Among his trusted men no word was breathed;Their tongues were bound, their plans in silence sheathed.
He chose fine gems, gold coins, and rich brocade,With gear and goods to serve a merchant’s trade.
He spent with prudent eyes, his plan concealed,And packed two chests with lead and solder, sealed.
He packed a brazen pot to play its part,For he was skilled and practiced in that art.
He called the chief equerry to his side:“Bring ten strong asses for the load,” he cried.
He dressed in donkey-drivers’ blanket wear,And loaded gold and silver with great care.
He left the army, seeking out the way,His anxious heart intent upon the fray.
The two young countrymen rode with him, true,As friends and counselors the journey through.
They were the youths who once received him well,And now came close where danger’s shadow fell.
Near that stronghold they halted on the crest,And caught their breath, allowing time for rest.
The Worm’s own servants formed a busy crew;They numbered sixty, each with work to do.
One saw the group of men and called aloud,“What wares are hidden underneath each shroud?”
The Shah replied, “All sorts of wares I bring:Clothes, gold, and silver, every costly thing.
Brocade, gold coins, rich silks, and jewels bright,And ornaments to please a buyer’s sight.
I am a merchant from ’s land,With toil that leaves no leisure to my hand.
The Worm’s good favor made my fortune rise,And now I bring these gifts before its eyes.
It blessed my work; if I may serve it here,Then all my hopes will brighten and be clear.”
The servants of the Worm unbarred the door,And led the laden asses to the store.
When all his loads were brought within the gate,He set his business in its proper state.
He opened up a pack and gave a shareOf goods he judged that he could rightly spare.
He spread a cloth before them on the ground,As donkey-drivers do when gathered round.
He loosed the bindings, turned the key, and pouredA cup of wine from what the chest had stored.
Those whose appointed task was to provideThe Worm with milk and rice remained aside.
They would not take the cup or drink the wine;Their turn to feed the Worm made them decline.
Ardeshir sprang up: “Rice and milk I bear,Enough to feed the Worm with greatest care.
If its chief servant grants me room and grace,For three days let me feed it in this place.
Perhaps its star will grant a share to me,And through its fortune I may famous be.
For three days drink with me, and take your ease;Then, when the fourth dawn lights the lands and seas,
I shall erect a storehouse, broad and tall,Its roof above the palace and the wall.
As merchant come with precious wares to vend,Thus I shall make the Worm itself my friend.”
His words prevailed; they granted his request:“Then feed the Worm yourself, and let us rest.”
The servants sat with wine-cups in their hands,While he, disguised, fulfilled his scheme’s demands.
They drank till wine had mastered every mind;They served the cup, the Worm now left behind.
When wine had left their tongues too slack to speak,He came with his two hosts, the Worm to seek.
He brought the metal and the cauldron near,And lit the fire while daylight still was clear.
When feeding time arrived, the Worm was fedWith molten metal, boiling hot instead.
With molten metal, boiling hot insteadMolten metal is not a random cruelty. In Zoroastrian accounts of the end of the world the mountains melt and run as a river of molten metal through which everyone must pass, scalding to the wicked and warm as milk to the righteous. Ardeshir pours the last judgment down the throat of Ahriman’s creature.
Its tongue came out, with all a cymbal’s hue,As when the rice was brought for it to chew.
One young man poured; the molten metal sank,And left the Worm all helpless in its tank.
A rumble from its maw convulsed the ground;The pit and earth both trembled at the sound.
Then Ardeshir came rushing like the gale,The two young warriors followed on his trail.
With sword and and shafts their fury spread;Not one escaped; the drunken men lay dead.
From fortress roof he raised black smoke on high,A signal for the captain standing by.
The lookout saw and ran to Shahrgeer’s side:“Ardeshir has won!” the watchman then cried.
Shahrgeer then made no pause when this was said,But marched his ranks to meet the Shah ahead.
In briefHaftvad storms the fortress and fails. Ardeshir calls Shahrgeer up, and Haftvad and Shahvi are taken, hung on gibbets by the sea and shot dead. Ardeshir gives away the spoil, founds a fire-temple, rewards his two hosts with provinces, and takes the throne at Tisfoon.
When knew the Worm had met its end,His heart was torn by grief no hope could mend.
He came to take the fortress, pressing hard;The Shah rushed to the walls to stand on guard.
Haftvad strove hard, but failed to gain the height;A lion’s foot still held the rampart tight.
Iran’s troops came like mountains in their might,Then halted, hearts still burdened by their plight.
Then Shah called across the wall,“Advance to battle, ! Hear my call.
If Haftvad slips away, what will you gain?But wasted toil, and wind your hands retain?
I fed the Worm hot metal; it is dead;Its luck is gone, its vaunted glory fled.”
The army heard the Shah’s resounding call,And iron helmets armed the heads of all.
Still stung by former shame, they rose to fight,And armed their hearts with vengeance and with might.
The wind now turned against proud Haftvad’s side;Soon he was seized, his boast and power denied.
His eldest son, , was also bound;The battle-chief was captured on the ground.
Ardeshir left the rampart and came down;Shahrgeer came on foot before the crown.
They brought a steed with golden trappings bright,And Shah Ardeshir mounted in their sight.
He ordered two tall gibbets on the strand,To rise beside the sea at his command.
He hung both living foes upon that height,And woke his enemies to fear their plight.
From out the army’s center Shahrgeer sped,And rained his arrows till the two were dead.
He gave the wealth as spoil to every man,And gladdened hearts grown dark since war began.
From end to end they emptied out the keep,And brought its riches down in heap on heap.
Whatever pleased the Shah among the hoardWas sent to and stored.
He built a fire-temple, raised its flame,And brought and back to fame.
And brought Mehrgan and Sadeh back to fameEvery victory in this book ends with a fire founded and the two great fire festivals revived (on Mehrgan, see I, A6.1; on Sadeh, I, A2.2). Restoring the festivals after the Ashkanian centuries is the poem’s shorthand for the whole Sasanian restoration of the faith.
His two young hosts received both crown and throne,With lands to govern, granted as their own.
He left in triumph, and his just commandSpread through the realm of across the land.
When man and beast had rested from their strain,He led his troops toward with all his train.
To he sent troops, and gave the leadTo one wise chief well fitted to the need.
He journeyed on to , where the throneOf his defeated foe became his own.
He journeyed on to Tisfoon, where the throneTisfoon is Ctesiphon on the Tigris, the Parthian capital that the Sasanians took over and held for four centuries; later writers called the double city Madain, ‘the cities’, a name the poem uses as well. Occupying it, rather than winning any one battle, is what makes Ardeshir King of kings.
Such is the manner of the turning wheel,Whose mystery no mortal can reveal.
Bend to the world, for it will never bend;For low and high alternate without end.
In briefArdeshir takes the ivory throne and is hailed as King of kings. He declares that justice is his only treasure, that no subject shall sleep with a need denied, and that his court is open to friend and foe, then sends armies against the chiefs who resist.
At Baghdad, took the ivory throne;Upon his head the crown of victory shone.
At Baghdad, Ardeshir took the ivory throneBaghdad was founded in the eighth century, long after Ardeshir, and the previous chapter gave the royal seat its proper name of Tisfoon. Persian and Arabic writers commonly used the city of their own day for the capital on the Tigris; it is less a mistake than geography translated into the reader’s terms.
With girdle bound, the kings’ great in hand,He took his splendid seat to give command.
They called him King of kings; in every gaze,He seemed restored from former days.
When he had donned the crown in royal state,He spoke these words before the proud and great:
“Justice is all my treasure here on earth;My toil and fortune give the world rebirth.
“Justice is all my treasure here on earthEvery Sasanian reign in the poem opens with a speech from the throne and closes with a testament, and the speeches are built from the same materials: justice as the king’s real wealth, an open court, no subject going to bed wronged. The pattern is inherited. These books grew out of a literature of royal counsel as much as of chronicle.
This treasure none can seize by fraud or force;Wrongdoing drives men down its bitter course.
If holy God is pleased with me, His handWill not withhold from me this darkened land.
The whole wide world shall rest beneath my shield;My rule shall never to injustice yield.
Let no one go to sleep with needs deniedBy any officer who serves my side.
No chief or mounted warrior to me swornShall leave a heart to nurse its need forlorn.
My court stands open wide to friend and foe,To those who wish me well or wish me woe.”
The whole assembly blessed him, crying then,“May justice make earth prosperous for men!”
He sent out troops wherever foes held land,And gave the marching armies this command:
“Make hostile chiefs submit; if they resist,Let throne and sword persuade them to desist.”
In briefArdeshir marries Ardavan’s daughter. Her brother in Hind sends poison; she mixes it into a cup, the cup breaks, and hens fed the spilled food die. Ardeshir orders her killed, but she is pregnant, and his minister hides her, gelding himself and sealing the proof in a casket.
When Shah made proud fall,The world was his; he stood above them all.
He took the slain king’s daughter as his bride,To learn where royal hoards lay deep inside.
Two sons of Ardavan to had flown,To share whatever good or ill was shown.
Two more lay bound in Ardeshir’s domain;The living bore their wounds, their father slain.
In the eldest brother stayed;His name was ; there his plans were laid.
He chose a youth of judgment and of skill,Who heard his message with a ready will.
Denied a share of kingship, in despair,He gave the youth the poison he must bear.
He said, “Go tell my sister what I say:‘Seek no affection from our foe this way.
In Hindustan two brothers live in pain,Together bearing hardship’s bitter chain.
Two more in Ardeshir’s dark prison lie,With blood within their hearts and tears in eye.
How can the Maker bless the course you take,If you your father’s grieving house forsake?
If you would be Iran’s queen, take your place,And win the praise of warriors for your grace,
Take this Indian poison, cold and sure,And give Ardeshir death he cannot cure.’”
The envoy came at evening with the word,And gave the king’s dear daughter what he heard.
Her soul burned for her brothers and their pain;Her heart became a furnace of disdain.
She took the poison, fixed upon the deed,And planned the death her brothers had decreed.
One day Ardeshir rode across the plain,And loosed his arrows at the wild ass train.
When half the day had passed, he turned to rideBack from the hunting ground to his bride’s side.
He sought his bride; she saw him drawing near,And ran to meet her husband, Ardeshir.
She brought a topaz cup, its contents sweet:Cold water, sugar, meal for him to eat.
To please Bahman, she mixed the deadly baneWith meal and sugar, hoping for his gain.
The Shah received the cup, but from his holdIt fell and broke; its contents outward rolled.
The queen shook hard beneath the sudden fear;Her heart seemed torn in two as he stood near.
The Shah grew doubtful when he saw her shake,And feared what turn the heavens now might take.
He bade a servant fetch four household hens,And bring the birds before him from their pens.
He bade a servant fetch four household hensTesting suspect food on birds is court realia rather than invention; dread of poison shapes the etiquette of these chapters. The cup that slips from the king’s hand and breaks of its own accord does for Ardeshir what his own suspicion had failed to do.
The birds were set before the poisoned fare;Those watching thought suspicion idle air.
The fowls ate of the meal and swiftly died;No kindly reading could the poison hide.
The pious monarch summoned then a sage,His learned minister, advanced in age.
He asked his minister, “If you should raiseAn enemy to honor and to praise,
And favor so intoxicates his mindHe seeks your life, to all your kindness blind,
What punishment should such a treason bring?How deal with one who, fostered, turns to sting?”
The minister replied, “Who seeks the kingMust lose the head that planned so vile a thing.
Behead the guilty one without delay;Let no soft counsel turn your will away.”
The Shah commanded, “Take the woman’s head;Let Ardavan’s proud daughter join the dead.”
The minister went out; she walked ahead,She trembled, heart weighed down by guilt and dread.
She said, “O sage, your days and mine must end;Toward death the paths of both our lives must bend.
If you must kill me, hear before I die:Within me does Ardeshir’s offspring lie.
Though I deserve to have my lifeblood shed,Or hang upon a gibbet with the dead,
Wait till the child is born and parted free;Then do whatever judgment falls on me.”
The shrewd old minister returned and toldHis master, but the Shah’s resolve stayed cold.
He said, “Pay no attention to her plea;Bring out the noose and do as I decree.”
The minister reflected, “Dark the dayThat brings such orders for me to obey.
All living men must reach the appointed end;The Shah has no son on whom hopes depend.
Though his long life a hundred years should last,At death his throne to foes alone is passed.
From this deed, fruitless as it is, I mightContrive some noble act and set it right.
I shall preserve this moon-face from the blade;Perhaps the Shah’s fierce purpose yet may fade.
Once she has borne the child, at his commandThe sentence still can pass beneath my hand.
This matter will not leave my troubled mind;Let wisdom guide me; let me not be blind.”
He furnished chambers in his hall apart,To guard her as his body and his heart.
He thought, “Not even passing air may seeHer hidden face; so close her guard must be.”
Then thought, “My foes are many; doubts arise;No man is wholly trusted in my eyes.
I must ensure no slanderer can claimMy stream runs foul, or stain my honored name.”
He gelded himself, seared the flesh that bled,Then bound the wound, with salves upon it spread.
He gelded himself, seared the flesh that bledThe most startling act of loyalty in the poem. Disobeying the king was fatal, so the minister makes himself incapable of the adultery he might be accused of, salts what he has cut away, and lodges it in the royal treasury under seal and date: a chancery document made out of his own body. The dynasty continues because of it.
He salted what his knife cut at a stroke,And packed it in a casket, swift as smoke.
He sealed the casket then, and came in pain,His yellow face betraying all his strain.
He told his servants, “Bring a litter here;At dusk, before the Shah, let me appear.”
They lifted him in anguish, bent and frail,And laid him in the litter, deathly pale.
The Shah then asked the minister to speak:“Why has such yellow pallor stained your cheek?”
He answered, “What I did has left me torn,My heart in pain, my face so pale and worn.”
Before the lofty throne he set the case,Its seal and binding still secure in place.
He said, “Entrust this casket to the wardOf your own treasurer, within your hoard.”
The date was written on the casket’s face,With marks by which its origin to trace.
In briefThe hidden queen bears Shapur, raised in secret for seven years. Grieving that he has no heir, Ardeshir is told the truth and picks his son out of a hundred matched boys at polo. He showers Shapur with gems, pardons the mother, and honors the minister on his coins.
When time of birth drew near, the cautious manKept all concealed according to his plan.
The daughter of proud gave birthTo one of royal mien and ardent worth.
He named the child , concealed him well,And barred his door to guests, lest they should tell.
He named the child Shapur, concealed him wellShāpūr, Middle Persian Šābuhr, means ‘the king’s son’, from an older compound of shāh and ‘son’. The minister says later that he chose the name out of love, which carries a gentle joke: the hidden child of a condemned mother is given a name that states exactly whose son he is.
For seven years he kept him from the light,Until he grew kinglike in grace and height.
One day the minister approached the king,And saw tears rise from care’s consuming spring.
He said, “O Shah, success is yours, yet stillYour soul is fed on sorrow’s bitter will.
The world has granted all you sought to own;You cast your foeman headlong from his throne.
Now is the time for joy and drinking wine,Not grief that makes the royal spirit pine.
Earth’s are yours; your troops awaitYour orders, as do all who serve the state.”
The Shah replied, “O counselor and guide,Whose wisdom sees what hidden cares I hide,
Our scimitar has justified the age;Grief, toil, and hardship have withdrawn their rage.
My years are fifty-one; the musk once spreadIs camphor now; my youthful roses fled.
I ought to have a son before me here,A joy of heart, a strength, a guide held dear.
A father with no son is like a boyWhose father died; no stranger brings such joy.
My crown and treasure fall to foes as spoil;For me, but dust and pain for all my toil.”
The shrewd old man then thought, “The time has comeTo speak, and end this sorrow’s heavy sum.”
He said, “O Shah, protector of your land,Magnanimous, supreme in heart and hand,
If you will promise first to spare my life,I shall remove my lord’s inward strife.”
The Shah replied, “O sage, why should you fear?Speak what you know; let hidden truth appear.
What better gift than counsel from the wise?Say all you know and lift this from my eyes.”
He said, “Pure Shah, discerning and sincere,May my reply find favor in your ear.
A casket lies among your treasures, sealedBy my own hand; command it be revealed.”
The Shah then told the treasurer, “RestoreThe thing that he entrusted you before.
Bring it, that we may see what lies inside,And cast this grief that burdens me aside.”
The treasurer brought forth the casket, sealed,And to the minister his charge did yield.
The Shah inquired, “What does this casket hide,And whose seal keeps it fastened on the side?”
He said, “My blood is here, the parts I toreFrom their own roots, my manhood now no more.
You gave me Ardavan’s own daughter then,And charged me that she never rise again.
I spared her for the child she bore; my handWas stayed by fear of God, who rules the land.
When your command arrived, I sought to saveMy honor, and my manhood freely gave,
Lest anyone should stain my name with blame,Or drown me in the sea of tainted fame.
Your Shapur now is seven years of age,Yet fit to be your minister and sage.
No other king has such a noble heir;The moon alone can match his face so fair.
In love I named him Shapur; may the skiesRejoice to see your happy fortune rise.
His mother too is with him, safe and mild,And she has raised and taught the royal child.”
The world’s king marveled at the loyal man,And thoughts about the hidden boy began.
He said, “O man of clear and prudent mind,Whose heart with understanding is aligned,
I shall not let such service lose its due;Much hardship you have borne to see this through.
Choose out one hundred boys his age and size,Alike in chest and limb before our eyes.
Let all be clothed alike from head to toe,With nothing more or less in what they show.
Send all the boys to play upon the ground,With polo sticks and balls to drive around.
When those fair youths are playing in my sight,My heart will turn toward him by nature’s right.
My heart will testify and make me knowThe son in whom my blood and lineage flow.”
At dawn the minister arranged the bandOf boys upon the field at his command.
In dress, in stature, bearing, form, and grace,No eye could tell one youth from all the race.
The field seemed bright as on a festive day,With Shapur in the midst of all their play.
When Shapur struck the ball, his ardor grew;He strove with manly spirit to break through.
came with chosen men beside,To watch the children on his field so wide.
He heaved a heavy sigh within his breast,Then pointed where his heart found truth and rest.
He told the minister, “Look there and see:That youth resembles what I used to be.”
The counselor replied, “Your heart has knownThe son your blood and body call their own.”
Then Shah Ardeshir called a servant near:“O man of kindly heart and conscience clear,
Join in their play with cheerful face, and seeYou drive the ball with your own stick to me.
The boy who comes among my horsemen here,As bold as any lion, free from fear,
And takes the ball away before my face,Dauntless before the horsemen in this place,
Will be my royal son, beyond all doubt,In blood and body, as the signs point out.”
The servant did the bidding of the king,And drove the ball before the mounted ring.
The boys, as swift as arrows, chased it hard,Until they neared the Shah across the yard.
They halted, though they longed to join the play;But Shapur charged ahead without delay.
He bore it off before the monarch’s face,Then gave it to the boys beyond that place.
The Shah’s heart joyed as when an old man’s frameGrows young again and kindles into flame.
The horsemen lifted Shapur from the ground,And passed him hand to hand among them round.
At last the King of kings embraced the boy,And blessed the Judge of all with tears of joy.
He kissed his head and eyes, his face, and said:“This wonder must be told, its tidings spread.
I never dreamed of this; I thought him dead,And never hoped to kiss his living head.
God gave me greater kingship, and a sonTo leave my memory when my days are done.
What God has willed no man can flee or shun,Though he should raise his head above the sun.”
He called for gold and gems from all his treasure,And priceless rubies, heaped beyond all measure.
They poured the gold and jewels on the heir,And sifted musk and ambergris through air.
The coins concealed his head beneath their flow;No eye could see his face for gems below.
The Shah heaped gems upon his faithful guide,And gave a gold-adorned seat at his side.
He gave him wealth enough to furnish allHis palace chambers and his spacious hall.
He bade the daughter of Ardavan goBack to the palace free from fear and woe.
He pardoned all the guilt that stained her name,And cleansed his moon of rust, her face of shame.
He summoned learned men into the town,To teach the boy the wisdom of renown:
To write in , to sit the throneWith all the royal bearing kings have shown;
To wheel his horse in battle, firm and keen,And show the foe his spearpoint’s threatening sheen;
To feast, drink wine, give gifts, and lead his men,And bear the toil when war returned again.
He changed the dies for coins of every mold,And struck them new in silver and in gold.
On one face Ardeshir’s own name was shown;The other bore his minister’s alone.
The other bore his minister’s aloneSasanian coins are among the best-known objects of the ancient world, and they carry the king’s bust on one face and a fire altar with its attendants on the other; no minister appears on them. The gesture in the poem is a storyteller’s way of measuring a debt that cannot be repaid, not a record of the mint.
The minister’s good name was held in praise,A man of counsel, versed in this world’s ways.
Both names appeared on edicts through the land;With seal and signet, his was full command.
He gave the poor who earned their daily breadA treasure, that their hunger might be fed.
He chose a tract of bramble and of thorn,And from it was a thriving city born.
The name of still is known;No other name survives beside its own.
The name of Gund-e-Shapur still is knownGondeshapur in Khuzestan, which the record credits to this Shapur, who settled Roman captives there; the verse leaves the founder open. Later tradition makes it the most famous center of medicine and learning in Iran, its physicians working with Greek, Syriac and Indian material, and the reputation carried over into the sciences of the Islamic period, though how much of the school is Sasanian and how much later report is argued.
In briefNever free of war, Ardeshir sends an envoy to the Indian sage Kayd. Kayd reads the stars and answers that peace will come only when Ardeshir’s line is joined with Mehrak’s. Enraged, Ardeshir orders a hunt for Mehrak’s one surviving daughter, who is hidden in a village.
grew cypress-tall beside the king;They feared the harm an evil eye might bring.
He never left the Shah, but at his sideServed as his trusted minister and guide.
The Shah found not a single day of peace,For enemies arose and would not cease.
When he had freed one province from its foes,Another rose to bring him deeper woes.
He said, “In public and in secret prayer,I ask the Maker, who sees everywhere,
To grant me all the world, with foes subdued,That I may worship Him in gratitude.”
His minister replied, “O King of grace,Whose wisdom shines upon this noble race,
Dispatch an envoy to ’s sage, the chiefOf sages, , whose knowledge brings relief.
Of sages, Kayd, whose knowledge brings reliefIndia is where this poem goes for knowledge of the stars, and Kayd is the name it has already used for the Indian sage-king who sent Iskandar his four gifts (II, D5). Whether a name or a title, he returns here to tell Ardeshir the one thing he cannot bear: that his peace depends on marrying into the house he has just destroyed.
He knows the lofty heavens and their course,The door to joy, the path to grief’s dark source.
He will foretell if all the Be yours without a rival in these times.”
The Shah chose then a youth of ready wit,For such a charge both keen and finely fit.
With steeds and gold and silk of Chin, he sentThe youth to bear the message the Shah meant.
He said, “Go tell the sage who reads the skies:‘O favored man, whose words are true and wise,
When shall I rest from war and weary toil,And hold in peace the kingdom’s royal soil?
If this shall never be, let labor cease;No more shall I spend treasure seeking peace.’”
The envoy came to Kayd with gifts in hand,And offerings sent from ’s own land.
He told the Shah’s whole message, word by word,And bared each secret trouble he had heard.
Kayd questioned him; concern upon him weighed,Then turned to all his learning for its aid.
He brought his astrolabe to read the skies,With Indian tables spread before his eyes.
He brought his astrolabe to read the skiesThe astrolabe is Greek in origin and became the emblem of the Muslim astronomer, and the Indian tables beside it are the zij of I, A8.17. Ferdowsi equips a third-century Indian sage with the working kit of an observatory of his own century, as naturally as he gives Ardeshir a chancery of Pahlavi scribes.
He weighed what heaven’s turning might portend:Ease, profit, pain, and harm that it might send.
“I reckoned Iran’s fortune, gauged its hope,And with it read the Shah’s own horoscope.
If Ardeshir’s line joins with ’s own,The son of , peace shall bless his throne.
Then shall the Shah know peace throughout his days,And send no armies down the distant ways.
His wealth shall grow, his hardships fade away;Let not the feud between these houses weigh.
So all Iran will answer his behest,And all his heart’s desires shall be possessed.”
He gave the envoy gifts: “Let nothing stayConcealed of all the words I bid you say.
If he will heed, the lofty heavens will showThe worth of all the counsel I bestow.”
The envoy then returned to Ardeshir,And told him all that Kayd had made him hear.
When Ardeshir heard what the sage had said,His face grew yellow; pain within him spread.
He answered, “God forbid that I should seeThe offspring of that Mehrak joined to me.
To bring the enemy within my keepWould sow fresh war, and misery to reap.
Woe for my scattered treasure, all my care,The men dispatched, the toil I had to bear!
Mehrak has but one daughter left, they say;No one has seen where she has hid away.
Let searchers ride to and Chin, and scourHind and , and bring her to my power.
Once found, she shall be burned; the dust shall weepAnd mourn her fate in lamentation deep.”
He sent to horsemen, and besideA keen, vindictive tracker as their guide.
She fled from Mehrak’s house when word drew near,And found a hidden corner in her fear.
Within a village chieftain’s house she stayed;He held in honor the secluded maid.
She grew like some straight cypress in the glade,With wisdom in the beauty she displayed.
No equal in that country could be found;No cypress matched her height on all its ground.
In briefHunting, Shapur stops at a village where a girl offers to draw sweet water for his horse. When a servant cannot raise the bucket she had raised alone, Shapur guesses her descent. She admits she is Mehrak’s daughter; he promises her safety and marries her by the fire rite.
Now hear of ’s daughter in my song,And sword-bearing , bold and strong.
A little time passed on; the royal starGrew bright and shed its radiance afar.
The Shah went out to hunt at dawn one day,With wise Shapur beside him on the way.
The horsemen ranged across the grassy plain,And drove the game away with spur and rein.
A spacious dwelling stood beneath the sky,With grove and hall and palace rising high.
Shapur rode to the village, where he foundThe chief’s great house and stepped down to the ground.
A pleasant garden lay within the place;The prince went in amid its verdant grace.
A moon-faced maiden, drawing from the well,Turned the great wheel; the bucket rose and fell.
A moon-faced maiden, drawing from the wellMeeting a future wife at a well is among the oldest scenes in Near Eastern storytelling; Genesis uses it three times over. Here the well does double duty, since it is the weight of the bucket rather than the girl’s face that gives away who she is.
And when she saw Shapur, she came to greetThe prince with blessings, gracious, warm, and sweet.
“Be happy, sir, and joy be yours, I pray,And may your years be free from all decay.
Your courser thirsts; the village waters flowWith brackish salt, as those who drink them know.
But this well’s water, cold and sweet, is clear;With your permission, I shall draw it here.”
Shapur replied, “My moon-faced maiden, whyShould you be troubled? Let this task pass by.
I have attendants waiting; theirs the taskTo draw cold water, if I only ask.”
The maiden turned away, withdrew from view,And sat beside the stream that rippled through.
He bade a servant, “Bring the bucket here,And draw cold water from the well’s depths clear.”
The servant heard and ran to turn the wheel,And let the rope and heavy bucket reel.
The heavy bucket filled; the rope drew taut;The servant, straining at it, grew distraught.
Since all his strength could not bring up the weight,Shapur came grumbling at the servant’s state.
“You half a woman! Did she not commandThis rope and heavy bucket with her hand?
She drew such quantities, yet now you cryFor help, worn out, and cannot lift it high.”
He took the rope; what taxed the servant’s mightBecame an easy task, its burden light.
Discovering the weight the girl had raised,He spoke of her with wonder, and he praised:
“A maiden who can lift a weight so grandMust come of blood within this land.”
Must come of Kayanian blood within this land.”Descent is a physical fact in these chapters. A ferryman saw it in Ardeshir’s build (D6.7), and Shapur deduces it from a girl who can lift what his servant cannot. The device also lets the poem present the marriage that saves the dynasty as something closer to fate than to choice.
When he had drawn the water for his steed,The maiden came with calm and graceful speed.
“May you live happily while time shall last,And learn from wisdom till your days are past.
Shapur, King ’s strong son, could makeThe water milk that from this well we take.”
He asked, “My moon-faced maid, how can you knowThat I am Shapur? What has told you so?”
She answered him, “Full often have I heardYour truth and honor praised in every word.
‘His strength is like an elephant’s; his handGives like the Nile that pours across the land.
In height a cypress, with a frame of brass,Like in all things that come to pass.’”
“O moon-faced girl,” said he, “tell what I ask,And do not hide your life behind a mask.
Declare your stock, for bearing, form and face,Betray the secret of a royal race.”
“I am the daughter of the chief,” she said;“From him my beauty and my strength are bred.”
“Before a king, no lie can shine as true;Such words,” Shapur replied, “will never do.
No farmer’s daughter bears such grace as you,Such moon-bright face and fragrance, bloom and hue.”
“O prince,” she said, “assure me I shall live,And promise me the safety you can give.
Safe from the anger of the King of kings,I shall recount the truth that memory brings.”
The prince replied, “Within our garden growsNo plant of hatred toward the friends we chose.
So speak; fear neither me nor him who reigns,The just, renowned Shah over these domains.”
“I am the daughter of Mehrak,” she said,“’s own son, whose child stands here in dread.
A pious man brought me, a child, to stayWith this good chief, who shelters me today.
So now, for fear of Ardeshir the Great,I draw his water, serving in this state.”
Shapur took up his lodging in that place,The chief stood waiting for his word of grace.
“Give me this maid, with Heaven as witness true,To be my wife, the bond approved by you.”
The village chief accorded his desire,With all the rites of those who worship fire.
In briefShe bears Hormizd, kept hidden for seven years. The boy slips out to the polo field and carries the ball off in front of Ardeshir, who questions him and learns the truth. Ardeshir accepts him gladly, crowns him with gold, and tells the nobles Kayd’s prophecy is fulfilled.
In time, the cypress bore its fruit of grace,To bless the scion of the royal race.
He brought her from the chief’s house; there the princeCherished her in his palace like fresh quince.
When nine months passed, that radiant lady boreA child who matched the beauty that she wore.
You would have thought stood near,Or that famed horseman, mighty .
named him ; the boy stood tall,A cypress where the plants beneath were small.
Shapur named him Hormizd; the boy stood tallHormizd is Ohrmazd, the name of the Creator himself (see I, A9.2), and this is the first king of the line to carry it; several more Hormizds follow in these books. The child of the proscribed house is named for God, and his birth is what completes Kayd’s prophecy.
Thus seven years went by; in all the sphere,The child had none to match him, none his peer.
They kept him hidden, far from every eye,And would not let him out where boys played by.
For seven days the King went hunting game,And wise Shapur went with him, bent on the same.
Hormizd slipped out unseen and ran away,Weary of lessons, longing now for play.
He ran to Ardeshir’s field, a bow in hand,With two shafts in the other, through the land.
He joined the children on the playing ground,Where polo sticks and balls were passed around.
The Shah returned from hunting with his train,And reached the playing field across the plain.
The chief of , a learned sage,Came with the Shah to watch the boys engage.
A youth struck hard and sent the ball astray;It rolled toward the monarch on its way.
The boys all stopped; no child pursued the ball;They stood, their pleasure checked, unwilling all.
Hormizd ran from their midst, with flying feet,And rushed like wind the world’s great king to meet.
He took the ball before the old king’s eyes,Amid the soldiers’ shouts and startled cries.
He took the ball before the old king’s eyesThe recognition is staged twice, in the same game and almost the same words: Shapur was picked out of a hundred matched boys for riding the ball off in front of the king (D7.3), and now his own hidden son does it. Ferdowsi lets the rhyme stand without comment. On chowgān, see I, B6.6.
Then from the boy a mighty shout rang clear,And filled with wonder glorious Ardeshir.
The Shah then asked the Mobad, “Whose is he?What noble branch has borne so bold a tree?”
The Mobad asked, but none could name his race;They all kept silent in that crowded place.
The Shah commanded, “Bring him here to me;Lift him from earth, his face I wish to see.”
The Mobad raised him from the dusty ground,And bore him where the King and court stood round.
The Shah said, “Noble child, before my face,Declare from whom you spring, your stock and race.”
The boy spoke out aloud, his meaning clear:“My name and race must not be hidden here.
I am Shapur’s own son, and he is yours;Through ’s daughter too my blood endures.”
The monarch stood in wonder at the word,Then smiled and pondered what his ears had heard.
He thought, “This thing was destined long ago;Why should I make my heart increase its woe?”
He called Shapur before him to declareThe truth, and questioned him with searching care.
Shapur was wan, his cheek was pale with dread;His heart grew sore at all the king had said.
But Ardeshir smiled and eased his fear:“Do not conceal the ancient secret here.
We need a son; whatever blood he brings,It is enough to know he springs from kings.”
Shapur replied, “May joy be yours to know;Your face sustains the world with all its glow.
The boy is mine; Hormizd I named my son,A tulip in low grasses, bright as sun.
I hid him from the Shah while still a shoot,And waited for the tree to bear its fruit.
This child was born of Mehrak’s daughter; heIs mine; no one can raise a doubt in me.”
Of water and the well he told the tale;His father listened to each full detail.
The King rejoiced and sought his palace door,His minister beside him as before.
He held the darling child in his embrace,And sought his palace throne with joyful face.
He had a golden throne prepared, and broughtA collar and a crown of gold, rich-wrought.
They decked the little head, then from the storeBrought gold and jewels, heaping more and more.
They poured until his head was lost to sight;His grandfather then raised him to the light.
He gave them all to poor men in their need,And more to sages, honoring wisdom’s seed.
He decked the fire-temple, rich arrayed,And halls of and with brocade.
He held a banquet with his chiefs; the throngOf minstrels filled the air with ringing song.
He spoke before the nobles gathered round,And all whose wisdom made their names renowned:
“Let none dismiss what learned men foretell,Who read the stars and what their courses spell.
For of foretold: ‘Your fortune’s lightWill never bless your throne with full delight,
Nor realm, nor crown, nor treasure, nor your men,Nor diadem, nor shall bless you then.
Until your house and famed ’s own lineAre joined in blood, and both their stocks combine.’
For eight long years the sky has blessed my way,And granted what I wished from day to day.
Since Hormizd came to bring my heart its ease,The world has given all that tends to please.
The are ordered by my hand;My heart has gained what fortune’s gifts command.”
His officers now used one royal name:The King of kings, his title of acclaim.
In briefFerdowsi sets out Ardeshir’s government: recruitment and muster of troops, scribes graded by their pens, charges to governors and generals, care of envoys, relief for ruined districts and impoverished nobles. The king remits the tenth, counsels his nobles on God and conduct, and lays down rules to live by.
Now hear how , through toil and care,Made justice flourish and the earth grow fair.
Learn too the wise decrees that he decreed,And weigh each counsel for your daily need.
He toiled, and made the rule of virtue stand,And spread both love and law by royal hand.
Desiring more recruits for his command,He sent his agents out through all the land.
They said, “Let none who has a son allowHis youth to grow in ignorance from now.
Teach him the horse, the , the bow in hand,And poplar shafts, as warriors understand.
When trained to strength and proven able too,A youth shall serve beneath the royal view.”
From every realm the youths approached the court,Where muster-masters wrote the due report.
They wrote each name and gave each youth his place,With quarters for the men of martial grace.
When war breaks out, recruits like these shall goBeneath a against the foe.
A learned Mobad shall attend the train,To watch the men upon the battle plain.
One such shall watch a thousand in the fight,And judge what duties suit each warrior’s might.
He notes the coward and the man too frail,And those whose strength and courage do not fail.
He sends the record to the King of kings,With clear report of all such martial things.
The Shah, when he has read the message through,Will seat the messenger before his view.
From treasury’s best he gives a robe of state,To youths whose skill and valor prove them great.
But men unfit shall leave the fighting train,Nor fill the ranks upon the battle plain.
Thus grew his troops so vast beneath the sky,No star could see their bounds from up on high.
The men of counsel rose beneath his hand,Advanced by wisdom serving court and land.
A herald circled through the camp and cried,“You warriors of the Shah in fame and pride:
Whoever seeks the king’s approving sight,And stains the earth with foemen’s blood in fight,
Shall have from me a royal gift and name,And leave memorials bright with lasting fame.”
He ruled the realm through disciplined array,A shepherd guiding armored men each day.
Now see how Ardeshir arranged the bandOf scribes who served the business of the land.
He staffed his public offices with menWhose knowledge matched their mastery of the pen.
Whose knowledge matched their mastery of the penThe scribes, the dabīr class, were one of the great estates of Sasanian society and ran its treasury, chancery and courts; here the king grades them by their handwriting and keeps only the best near the crown. On the founding division of society into classes, see I, A4.1.
He weighed their script, the beauty of each line,And every dot within its fine design.
When skill was duly brought before his eyes,The Shah decreed the writer’s pay should rise.
The lesser scribes served officers instead,Their weaker wit and pen were elsewhere led.
Such men found no employment near the crown;None served there but the penmen of renown.
He knew the practiced scribes among his men,And praised the worthy masters of the pen:
“A scribe who fills the treasury by his art,And lessens toil, sustains the kingdom’s heart.
He aids the state, the army, and the law,And speeds redress without delay or flaw.
The scribes are sinews of my soul and hand,And rule the secrets of my high command.”
When governors went out, the Shah made plain:“Hold money vile throughout your term of reign.
Sell no man’s life for gold; this fleeting stayIs but a lodging all must leave one day.
Seek wisdom, righteousness, and sober view;Let greed and madness keep afar from you.
Take none of kith or kin into your train;The troops I gave will serve you in your reign.
Give monthly gifts to all the poor in need,But not to those who plan a hostile deed.
If justice makes your province prosper too,Then you will prosper by the good you do.
But if a poor man sleeps in fear of you,You sell your soul for silver’s passing hue.”
All those who came to court for state affairs,Or sought redress beneath the royal stairs,
Were met by trusted servants at the gate,Who asked how local governors ruled the state:
“Are they just men, or greedy for reward?Do any wronged lie hidden in their ward?
What learned men are there? Who faints from need?Whose age and counsel best may serve the deed?
What elder, veteran, or pious manCan aid the realm as only wisdom can?”
The King had said, “My toil and treasure’s storeShould serve the learned; I desire no more.
What better thing than one both wise and old,Whose tested words are worthier than gold?
Seek men of long experience, sound and true,And patient youths whose worth is proven too.
For when young men are wise and fit to learn,They take the old men’s places in their turn.”
Whenever his whole army went to fight,He acted with sound judgment and foresight.
He chose a scribe, learned, watchful, wise, and fair,And sent him first as envoy with due care.
He sent a courteous, just appeal ahead,To ward off wrong before men’s blood was shed.
The envoy searched the foeman’s inward mind,To learn what purpose lay in it confined.
If that wise foe perceived his meaning right,And shrank from all the sorrows of the fight,
He gained a robe, a grant, a charter too,A keepsake from the Shah to mark his due.
But if revenge possessed his heart instead,With blood within his liver, wrath his head,
The Shah gave gifts throughout the army band,So no man felt neglected in the land.
He chose a Pahlevan alert and wise,Who sought no rest, with watchful, prudent eyes.
Beside him went a scribe of practiced skill,To check the troops and keep the realm from ill.
An elephant upheld the herald’s frame;For two farsangs his proclamation came.
He cried to all the warriors of the land:“O famous chiefs, renowned in war’s command,
Protect the people all along your road;Let rich and poor rest safe in each abode.
Pay for provisions at each halting stage,And earn the thanks of farmer, youth, and sage.
Let none who worship God take others’ due,Or stain with unjust deeds the good they do.
Whoever shows the foe his back in fightWill see his fortune darkened into night.
His grave will stand nearby, or iron chainWill gall his neck and breast with bitter pain.
Or else, dismissed, on dust he shall be fed,And darkened dust shall be his only bed.”
Then he would charge the captain of the men,“Be neither slack nor rash in danger then.
Keep elephants in front; push scouts ahead,Full four farsangs before the army’s tread.
When battle comes, move through the troops, and hailEach rank: ‘Remember who you are, nor quail.
Remember why you stand upon this field;Let no man’s courage break, retreat, or yield.
For every one of you I shall obtainA robe from Ardeshir for this campaign.
A hundred hostile horsemen against oneOf ours are few, when battle is begun.’
When any horsemen advance on either side,Let not the center stand deserted, wide.
However vast the army you command,An empty center puts it in death’s hand.
An empty center puts it in death’s handThe battle orders here amount to a manual in miniature: elephants in front, scouts four farsang out, your left against the enemy’s right, the center never stripped, no plundering until the field is certain, quarter for anyone who asks for it. Books of Sasanian institutions and military custom of just this kind were still being quoted by Arabic writers centuries later.
Set your left flank against the foeman’s right,So matched opposing forces meet in fight.
Set right against their left across the plain;Let every mind attend the baggage train.
No man within the center shall advanceA single foot by haste or random chance.
But if the opposing center moves ahead,Then move your own where ordered ranks are spread.
When you have triumphed, shed no fleeing blood;Let mercy check the battle’s crimson flood.
If beaten foes ask quarter, grant it then;Be not revengeful toward defeated men.
When you observe the foe begin retreat,Seek not the spoil, nor leave your ordered seat.
Beware of ambush still on vale and plain;Do not deem all secure and quit your train.
But once assured, heed no distracting word;Stand by the judgment you have made and heard.
Bestow the spoil on those who sought the fray,And washed from hearts the love of life away.
Bring every captive taken on that dayBefore my court, without excuse or stay.
I shall build there where thorn and bramble growA city where the captives all may go.
As you would live at peace, secure, and sound,Do not reject the counsel you have found.
And in your triumphs always bend to God,Because His guidance marks the path you trod.”
When envoys came from Turks or Romans bold,Or noble peoples, this command was told:
The border chiefs must know when envoys came,And let no negligence disgrace their name.
Along the road let lodgings be made ready,With care for every envoy, sure and steady.
Such was the charge appointed through the land:Food, robes, and carpets furnished at command.
Along the route they learned the envoy’s aim,His business, country, mission, rank, and name.
A noble camel bore a scribe, who pressedAhead to tell the Shah the guest’s request.
The troops rode out to meet him on the road;The victor Shah, enthroned, his splendor showed.
On either side attendants took their stand,In robes with gold embroidered, bright and grand.
He called the envoy near, with honor treated,And by the royal throne he had him seated.
He asked his business, hidden, plain, his name,The good and bad, his standing and his fame,
Of justice and injustice, what he knew,His land, its customs, king, and army too.
He led him to a palace set apart,And furnished it with all befitting art.
He held a feast with wine in royal state,And by the golden throne the envoy ate.
He took him hunting with a mighty train,A countless force of riders on the plain.
He sent him off with ceremonial care,And gave a royal robe for him to wear.
He sent wise through every town,Men kind and shrewd, commissioned by the crown.
They raised new cities, spacious, sound, and bright,With royal treasure spent to build them right.
Each homeless man whom fortune left in need,Whose poverty gave grief a place to breed,
Received both food and shelter at command;Thus grew the people subject to his hand.
His name is current now as it was then,In public speech and private hearts of men.
One monarch only in the world we findWho brings lost Ardeshir again to mind.
I bring his name to life in words that last,And call his memory from the distant past.
How wondrous was the justice of his reign!Prosperity became his rightful gain.
The Shah received reports from far and wide,His agents learned what every place might hide.
Whenever men of wealth fell in distress,His agents learned, and brought it for redress.
He raised their fallen fortunes, made them thrive,And caused their ruined markets to revive.
He gave them fertile lands and houses too,With slaves and servants for each household due.
He gave this aid in secret, keeping allUnknown to those within the city wall.
If talent showed in children of their line,He gave them teachers who could make it shine.
In every quarter halls of learning stood,Beside the fire-temples, strong and good.
He let none want, save one who chose to maskHis poverty, and never came to ask.
He judged the subject and his own dear son,As though the two before him stood as one.
His justice made the whole world bloom and grow,And all his subjects’ hearts were set aglow.
When any king with justice is allied,In spite of time his footprints will abide.
Observe the policies of that brave chief,Whose every act brought suffering relief.
His watchful agents, wise in every land,Went through the world according to command.
Where any country bore too great a weightOf tax, through failing streams or ruined state,
He lifted taxes from the ruined ground,And mercy reached the smallest holdings found.
If any landholder was losing all,The Shah supplied his need before the fall.
From treasury he gave them cattle too,And tools, to keep their holdings firm and true.
Now hear, O king, the sayings of this sage,And make the world as bright as in his age.
Now hear, O king, the sayings of this sageThe narrator turns from Ardeshir to a living king and tells him to make his own age as bright as that one. These books are history and instruction at once, and now and then Ferdowsi drops the third person to be sure the lesson lands.
If you would live in peace and free from pain,And heap no wealth through wrongful loss or gain,
Seek that your subjects live in quiet too,And win the praise that is your rightful due.
From and Chin to and Turan’s lands,The world grew Roman silk beneath his hands.
Both toll and tax flowed in without delay;No land defied him; all would now obey.
He called Iran’s nobility to meet,And gave each nobleman a royal seat.
Then rose and spoke with majesty and grace,And gave this royal counsel in that place:
“O chieftains, wise in counsel, hear and learnHow turning heaven deals, now kind, now stern.
It does not heed our justice, love, or hate,But raises whom it will, then shifts his fate.
It sets one man upon the height of all,Then gives him dust and sorrow at his fall.
His name alone survives beneath the sky;His toil lies buried where his ashes lie.
Then strive to leave a name of goodness here;No other lasting gain shall grace your bier.
Your lot, O , rests in God’s decree;As He approves, so shall your portion be.
Commit yourself to God in all you do;He is who makes good grow for you.
From every ill seek shelter in His might;Both good and bad lie in His ruling right.
He makes all hardship easy on your way,With brightened counsel and victorious day.
Judge by my life; consider and reviewThe good and evil I have journeyed through.
When I turned to Yazdan, Lord over all,My heart rejoiced in crown and palace hall.
I rule the , for God deemed rightThat I should hold them by His sovereign might.
From Rum and Hind I take the tribute due;The world grew Roman silk beneath my view.
Thanks be to God, who gave me strength and star,And favor from the sun and Saturn far.
Who knows how rightly we should praise His name,Or serve Him as His greatness would proclaim?
May He grant us the strength to serve His cause,And show His greatness and His sovereign laws.
And now I tell the just acts I intend,That joy and justice through the realm may blend.
Though one-tenth from communities is mine,As and the Mobad both define,
Though one-tenth from communities is mineGiving back the tenth is the most concrete act of justice in the chapter, and it is the same gesture the poem praised at the opening of this volume, where Mahmud forgives a year’s taxes (D6.1). Ardeshir’s reign is partly written as a mirror held up to Ghaznin.
I ask it not; I give it back to you,The tax on land and flocks that once was due.
If any surplus from your toil was gained,It is restored; let no man be constrained.
The tithes and taxes that I took before,Whatever came to me, be it less or more,
I used them for your good throughout the land,And kept a countless army at command.
I sought your greatness, safety in your need,And to diminish ’s dark creed.
Hold fast to God, be diligent each day,And never cast His covenant away.
He gives, sustains, and feeds the low and high,The Maker of the overarching sky.
He shelters the oppressed beneath His care;Let no vain boast possess you anywhere.
Let no deceit take lodging in your breast;Descent will follow on the highest crest.
Where are the men whose crowns once brushed the clouds?Where are the lion-hunters and their crowds?
They all lie couched on dust and brick below;Blessed is the man whose seeds of goodness grow.
Let all who dwell within my realm give ear,And take to heart the counsel spoken here.
Five paths I show, of greater worth to holdThan crowns and treasure, sovereignty and gold.”
Now listen, all who serve, and hear againThe words of Ardeshir to all his men.
“First, know that God exists, and keep His ways;With pure devotion offer Him your praise.
Second, despise not knowledge, whether youAre subject, lord, or servant proven true.
Third, words of wisdom never can grow oldFor learned minds, however often told.
Fourth, fear the guilt of sin, whose threats are moreThan royal bonds or any prison door.
Fifth, know the slanderer, whatever his claim,Can never win the people’s good acclaim.
One further counsel: prize above your treasure,Your eyes, your life, this word beyond all measure.
Blessed is he whose deeds in public viewMatch those in private, constant, just, and true.
Soft-spoken, modest, wise, and cordial still,Let warm and kindly words express your will.
Who squanders silver for a boastful show,And spends to make his empty splendor grow,
Finds none to thank him for that vain display;The man who knows God turns from such a way.
Hold to the middle course and keep your place;Pure judgment wins the wise man’s name and grace.
Five further paths will set your faith upright,And make the course of conduct clear and bright.
They bring the heart both comfort and delight,Like honey free of poison’s harmful bite.
First, do not overreach through greed or pain;Accept what God has set for loss or gain.
The man content is rich in everything,With fruit and blossoms like the days of spring.
Next, break the neck of greed; let no one hearYour secret words when women’s ears are near.
Third, do not court the path of war and strife,For toil and anguish follow through your life.
Fourth, bar all grief from entering your breast;Let future evils not disturb your rest.
Fifth, shun affairs that fall beyond your claim;They are no quarry for your thought or aim.
Hear now my counsel, weigh the words I say;Their profit shall attend you on your way.
Cease not from learning if your mind would burn;The mind is kindled by the truths you learn.
If you have children, teach them, and curtailTheir play, so that their wisdom may prevail.
Attend my words and pains endured for you;I bear them so your judgment may stay true.
Let just and shrewd hearts not dissolve their ties;Preserve the fellowship that makes men wise.
Seek peace of heart through four enduring ways;Each brings you profit through the length of days.
First, fear and honor God with heart and mind,That He, your Help and Guide, may stand behind.
Next, act with justice toward yourself, and keepYour garment’s hem from stains that settle deep.
Take God’s commands to heart, and let me claimThe love you bear your own dear living frame.
Third, make the right stand plain before all eyes;Cast fraud away, and ban deceit and lies.
Fourth, never from the Shah’s command depart,In open deed or secrets of your heart.
Love him as your own self, and in his sightObey his word, and let your face grow bright.
Let loyalty possess your inmost soul;Keep covenant and let his word control.
Love him as life, if he is just and true,And stands a faithful guardian over you.
The Shah must bear the burdens of command,And seek the good and welfare of the land.
If he knows frontier lords or troops oppressThe realm, and leaves the people in distress,
Yet grants no justice, he is king no more,Nor worthy of the royal crown he wore.
He tears the sacred charter of command;The departs from his unrighteous hand.
An unjust king, a lion, stalks and preysAcross the pasture where the helpless graze.
Who treats the Shah’s command with heedless scorn,And fails in diligent toil, shall live forlorn.
His life is pain and toil upon the road;He will not reach old age in this abode.
If goodness and true greatness are your need,They spring from neither pride nor miser’s greed.
May all my subjects’ hearts rejoice and flourish;May my just rule the whole world bless and nourish.”
In briefAn elder named Kharrad comes before the newly crowned Shah with a formal address: justice is the foundation stone of his throne, he has shut out the enemies of Hind and Chin, and he is God’s own robe of honor. He prays that the reign may last forever.
When the Shah was newly crowned,An elder came, for counsel long renowned.
by name, in word and wisdom just,Bore justice in his soul, a sacred trust.
“O King, be blessed while time itself endures;May grace and joy through all your days be yours.
May fortune crown each victory you gain,May realm and throne and crown rejoice to reign.
Around your throne, before it and behind,Both birds and beasts stand in their ranks aligned.
Both birds and beasts stand in their ranks alignedPraise of a just king regularly extends his peace to the animals, which draw up in ranks as the court does; Solomon’s command over beasts and birds stands behind the image in Persian usage. The whole chapter is a set piece of court panegyric — the same form Ferdowsi has to practice himself at the opening and close of this volume.
Exalted over all who wear the crown,The whole world knows your greatness and renown.
Who can describe the justice of your throne?Justice and greatness are its founding stone.
We offer growing praise to God on high,And multiply our blessings as days fly.
We live beneath your reign, your servants true,And hope for every noble deed from you.
We long to see the beauty of your face,Your love and gracious words we would embrace.
May you be safe, for you have made us so;May we no breach of faith toward you show.
You barred the foes of and distant Chin,For us and all our peers you stood between.
The rapine, war, and tumult disappear;The shouts of enemies no more we hear.
Remain forever happy in your reign,While wise help your rule sustain.
No king can match your wisdom, clear and sound;No thought can pass your counsel’s utmost bound.
In Iran you have founded justice true,To make our children glad in what you do.
Your potent counsel makes old hearts renewThe strength and joy that in their youth they knew.
The nobles gathered here rejoice in you,And in the justice of your actions too.
Your words have made our wisdom grow more bright;The world beholds your face and fills with light.
You are God’s robe of honor, richly sewnFor fortune, crown, and girdle, and the throne.
You are God’s robe of honor, richly sewnThe khal‘at, the robe of honor conferred by a superior, is the standard Persian image for legitimacy handed down (see I, B14.18). Kharrad turns it inside out: the king is not given the robe, he is the robe, God’s honor worn in the sight of the world.
Remain in joy, with love and justice here;The world recalls no king who is your peer.
Your might and keep safe the world’s wide space;Blessed those who find beneath your wings a place.
May you forever on your throne remain,The world obeying all that you ordain.”
In briefFerdowsi turns from the reign to the faithlessness of the world: king and servant alike must pack up and go, cypress backs bend, bright cheeks turn saffron, and the great of former days lie with brick for a pillow. Only the sower of good deeds is blessed.
You who would seek the marrow words bestow,Detach your heart from this old house below.
How many like us has this dwelling known!It rests with none; none holds it as his own.
Be king or servant, you must pass away;This world endures beyond your fleeting stay.
In toil or crowned, whatever be your part,You must pack up and from it all depart.
The sky will melt you, though of iron mold,And turn from you when age has made you old.
When cypress stature bends toward the ground,And dark narcissus-eyes in tears are drowned,
When rosy cheeks assume a saffron hue,And cheerful spirits lose their lightness too,
The soul does not sleep though the body may;Your friend has gone; alone you must not stay.
Whether a monarch or of subject birth,You have no dwelling but the darkened earth.
Where are the chiefs once crowned in royal gold,The riders blessed with triumph, now grown cold?
Where are the chiefs once crowned in royal goldOn the ‘where are they now’ lament, see I, B9.39. What is new is its position: from Ardeshir onward Ferdowsi uses a short interlude of this kind as a formal hinge between the account of a reign and the death of the king, so that the moral is heard before the deathbed.
Where are the sages, men of martial fame,The princes every court would once acclaim?
Their pillows now are brick and dust for rest;The one who sowed good deeds alone is blessed.
Great ’s example still shines clear;Hear what I tell, and keep its lesson near.
In briefAt seventy-eight and failing, Ardeshir charges Shapur: faith and kingship are twin brothers, treasure and anger are traps, slander and confidences are to be shunned. He foretells that his house will break the covenant and fall, lists the six cities he founded, and dies.
At seventy-eight, the watchful monarch layIn sickness, as his strength ebbed day by day.
He knew that death had drawn its shadow near,And that his green leaf yellowed with the year.
He summoned , gave him counsel deep,A charge for royal memory to keep.
He said, “Remember all my words today;Let slander pass like gusts of wind away.
When you have heard my sayings, practice them;Know worth from worthlessness; the false condemn.
With justice as my sword I set things right,And honored noble men with royal light.
I made my lands and royal power expand,Yet royal toil had worn my life’s last strand.
Through toil and sweat my treasures multiplied;Through all that labor wealth was set aside.
Now treasure lies before you, ease and all;The turning sky brings both a rise and fall.
It wounds us now, then gives us timely aid;Its favors follow injuries it made.
Fortune is first a vicious, restive steed,That strikes in prosperous days with reckless speed.
Then like a trained horse, arching neck for you,It bears you gently when its will is true.
Know this, my son: this false and passing hallHolds terrors for the happiest of all.
Be mindful of yourself and wisdom’s claim,If you would flee ill days and lasting shame.
When kings bestow on Faith the honor due,Then Faith and kingship stand as brothers true.
Then Faith and kingship stand as brothers trueThe most quoted sentence ever attributed to Ardeshir: religion and kingship are twin brothers, and neither can stand without the other. It reaches us outside the poem as well, in the Testament of Ardashir and the Letter of Tansar, and it was still being cited as political doctrine long after the dynasty that coined it had gone.
The Faith and kingship each the other need;Apart, neither can flourish or succeed.
Like lengths of brocade woven thread by thread,Before the wise together they are spread.
The Faith requires the Shah; without its guide,No kingship earns the praise that should abide.
Each guards the other, sharing one abode;One cloak enfolds them on their common road.
Each needs the other; through their union brightThey join in benefit and public right.
The man of Faith, with wisdom as his guide,Wins both the worlds through counsel at his side.
When kings stand guard to keep the Faith secure,Then Faith and kingship, brothers, both endure.
Whoever slanders kings whose rule is rightIs not a man of Faith, despite his rite.
If one who claims the Faith should hate his king,No pious name can cover such a thing.
What truth has every eloquent sage shown?Faith is the marrow justice calls its own.
Three things bring trouble to the royal crown:The unjust king whose wrath bears justice down;
Then raising worthless men above the skilled,Whose worth should have the seats of honor filled;
And making treasure his companion dear,To strive for more gold coins from year to year.
Let bounty, justice, wisdom be your aim,And let no lie pass current in your name.
A lie will cast its shadow on your face,And dim the glory of your royal place.
Take care: do not make treasure your desire,For coins bring toil with all that they require.
If greed for treasure grips the great king’s breast,His subjects will be wearied and oppressed.
The landed nobles’ wealth is yours to keep,Although they bear the toil for what you reap.
Protect their wealth through all that they endure,And make the bough of labor’s fruit secure.
Strive hard to put your wrath and rage away,And overlook men’s faults from day to day.
If anger rules you, grief will be your wage;Through words of pardon, seek to cool that rage.
The pious call an angry monarch light,A foolish man whom rage has robbed of sight.
Ill-wishing does not suit a royal mind;Adorn your heart with all things good and kind.
If fear once finds a lodging in your heart,Suspicion clouds your judgment from the start.
Let giving never cause your heart distress;Know wealth’s true worth, and share it nonetheless.
The king whose bounty reaches to the skyWins honor that no wealth alone can buy.
When trouble falls upon a monarch’s lot,Let wise weigh the tangled knot.
Let him inquire of right and wrong within,And store the answer where his thoughts begin.
When you intend to hunt on open ground,Wine harms you more when hunting comes around.
Do not mix wine and feasting with the chase;Keep outdoor hunting in its proper place.
For wine brings heaviness upon the head;Remember what the elders long have said.
Abandon pleasure when your foes appear;Set all your thoughts upon the conflict near.
Spend freely, ready arms at your command;Call all the troops from every royal land.
Do not let present work await the dawn;Let no ill counsel near your throne be drawn.
Do not pry deep into the common heart;You gain but loss through such a searching art.
If common tongues bring evil news, give earTo no such slander; let it bring no tear.
They worship neither God nor kings they meet;They seek men’s heads by grasping at their feet.
Such is the nature of the common crowd;May wisdom be your guide when tongues grow loud.
Fear those who practice evil out of view;They make the wide world narrow round you too.
Tell no confidant the secrets you devise,For he has friends who carry hidden ties.
The words you thought were hidden from the lightWill soon be spread abroad in open sight.
When secrets pass as gossip through the street,The wise lose patience hearing them repeat.
You will grow angry, and the calming sageWill call you light of head and soothe your rage.
Do not seek faults in others, lest they showYour own defects to all who wish to know.
If passion conquers reason, in the eyesOf sages, all your manly virtue dies.
The Shah who rules the world must have a mindOf wisdom, filled with goodwill toward mankind.
If any man is rash and insolent,And earns reproach through his arrogant bent,
Let such a man have no place near to you,Though once among your counselors he grew.
When you are Shah, put wrath and vengeance by,If praise from pious souls would lift you high.
When passion takes its throne in wrathful might,No wisdom or devotion guides you right.
Speak not too much, nor feign a holy air;Let piety be true, not outward prayer.
Hear what men say; retain the words most wise,And keep what pleases you before your eyes.
Weigh well your words when sages gather near;Be kind to all, with heart and manner clear.
Do not look down on those who come in need;Seat no known foe where royal counsels lead.
Accept apologies for wrongs now past;Let no revenge prolong them to the last.
Be just to all and cherish all you can;A patient, bounteous heart ennobles man.
If any foe through fear should flatter you,Array your troops; let tabiras sound too.
Go forth while he is shrinking, weak in hand,And set your ordered power across the land.
But if he seeks both peace and rightful ways,And hides no mischief from your searching gaze,
Then take his tribute and preserve his face;Seek no revenge when peace has found its place.
Adorn your heart with knowledge of true worth;Then practice what you know upon the earth.
You will be loved if bounty shapes your hand,And famed for wisdom, justice in your land.
Keep my last charge alive from day to day,Bequeath it to your son, then pass away.
I have fulfilled a father’s duty here;Let no harm touch the wealth you hold so dear.
Do not transgress the charge I leave today,Or twist the meaning of the words I say.
Remember me by doing what is right;Cast evil from your heart and from your sight.
Do not bring pain upon my spirit’s rest,Or burn this feeble body, long distressed.
Let no one suffer sorrow at your hand;Bring harm to none through wrongs that you command.
Now when five hundred years have passed away,Your dynasty will meet its closing day.
Now when five hundred years have passed awayArdeshir foretells the ruin of his own house: descendants who spurn the covenant, oppress their subjects and take up Ahriman’s creed. The dynasty in fact lasted a little over four centuries. The prophecy is Ferdowsi’s long fuse — everything from here to Yazdegard and the last chapters of the poem stands under a sentence pronounced at the founding.
Your sons and others of your kin will turnFrom this my covenant, which they will spurn.
They will depart from counsel, law, and light,And scorn the warnings of the sages’ sight.
They will neglect the charge I leave behind,And grow unjust, oppressive, harsh, and blind.
They will oppress their subjects, scorn the good,Despising pious men where once they stood.
They will put on the robe of evil deed,And give themselves to ’s dark creed.
All we have bound they will unbind in shame,Defiling Faith we washed of every blame.
My charge and counsel emptied of their aim;My country ruined by the wrongs they frame.
I pray the Maker, who alone can knowWhat lies concealed and what the world may show,
To guard you from all evil and its blame,And grant you in this world a worthy name.
God’s blessing, and my own, on one upright,Whose wisdom’s warp and justice’s woof unite,
Who keeps my charge, nor lets its honey turnTo colocynth, whose bitter juices burn.
Forty years and two full months have passed bySince I assumed the crown beneath the sky.
I hold six cities, all in pleasant climes,Well watered and remembered through all times.
, the first, I styled;Its air is musk; like milk its streams run mild.
The second bears the name Ram ;From there I came to in royal gear.
The third is , whose airCould make an old man young, relieved of care.
The third is Ormozd-Ardeshir, whose airSasanian kings stamped their names on their foundations, and a dying king’s list of cities is a genre of record in its own right. Hormizd-Ardashir is usually identified with Ahvaz, which agrees with the verse placing it in Khuzestan; Ram-Ardashir and Khorra-e-Ardeshir (D6.9) belong to Pars.
It is the luster of ’s plain,With people, water, trade in loss and gain.
Another, , is knownFor gardens, pools, and rose-beds overgrown.
And two in and by ’s flow,Where cattle, springs, and pastures richly grow.
Such are the firm foundations I have laid;Remember, when you hear me, what I made.
I have prepared my baggage for the grave;Entrust my bier, and take the throne I gave.
In this world I have borne both public care,And private toil that was my lot to bear.
Rejoice my soul with justice; rule with might,Be glad, victorious, crowned in royal light.”
He spoke, and fortune darkened into night;Alas, that head, that crown, that throne so bright!
The fashion of this joyful world is thus:It keeps its hidden purposes from us.
Blessed is he who never greatness knew,Nor bore the burdens that its owners do.
You strive for wealth, yet neither can remain:Both man and wealth must pass, despite your pain.
Dust in the end is wedded to us all;Our cheeks at last are covered by the pall.
Come, let us set our hands to doing good,And shun the path of evil, as we should.
How blessed is he who takes the cup of wineTo toast the Shahs, those men of Faith divine.
He drinks his wine, then drinks another round,And falls asleep in joy, with peace profound.
In briefFerdowsi closes with praise of the Creator of space, earth and time, a blessing on Mohammad and his companions, and a long eulogy of Mahmud: just, generous, terrible in war, open-handed at feasts, and the delight of every faithful heart.
Let praise ascend to Him, creation’s source,Who fashioned space and earth and time’s full course.
From Him beginning comes, from Him the end,From Him both passion and repose descend.
He made the starry heavens, earth, and time;All creatures are His own in every clime.
From worthless stubble to the throne of kings,His being finds its witness in all things.
Call none but Him the Maker; in His sight,The hidden and the seen alike are bright.
He showered blessings on ’s name,And on his comrades, bright with holy fame.
They all were holy men of self-command;No count can hold the sayings of that band.
Now let us lavish countless words in praise,To thank the Maker of the world and days.
Praise too the crown the King of kings displays,Whose throne makes brighter still the moon’s own rays.
Great , graced by God, the King of kings,Is he from whom all bounty freely springs.
Great Mahmud, graced by God, the King of kingsThe volume opens and closes on the same note (D6.1): praise of God, then praise of Mahmud, framing the Ashkanians and the first Sasanians. How much of the praise of Mahmud in the Shahnameh is Ferdowsi’s own, and how much was added or reworked later, has been argued over for a long time, and the manuscripts do not agree about these passages.
Brave, bounteous, just, by heaven’s favor blessed,He makes the age grow glad at his behest.
He rules in peace, with crown and treasure bright,And wields the axe and sword in every fight.
Our gracious king knows merit, truth, and worth,And thanks the God who raised him over earth.
Wise, fair, and eloquent, of kingly mold;In years a youth, in wisdom fully old.
His makes Jupiter release its rain;Beneath his shade we sport throughout his reign.
His farr makes Jupiter release its rainThe old royal farr (I, A4.1) is handed here to a sultan of Ghaznin, along with the title King of kings, the war elephant and the scattering of jewels at feasts. The entire vocabulary of Iranian kingship is being offered, quite deliberately, to the ruler the poet hopes will reward him.
In battle he makes heaven echo loud;At feasts he scatters jewels through the crowd.
When angered, mountains melt beneath his way,And heaven shakes above the dust and clay.
His forebears reigned as monarchs in their day;The sun and moon join with him in their play.
May his renown endure while ages run,May joy increase until his days are done.
I head my tale with praise of his renown,His conduct, counsel, majesty, and crown.
Throughout the world his fame is widely known;May goodness guard his scepter and his throne.
His noble bearing lends the crown new light,And fortune arms him, shielding him from blight.
Throughout the world, all faithful hearts rejoice,And kings delight in him with common voice.
His glorious fortune makes the heavens glow;Earth forms the base that holds his throne below.
In war, a mighty elephant of dread;At feasts, a faithful sky with rain to shed.
At feasts, his bright designs make bounty flow;The waves of his great ocean rise and grow.
Earth’s monarchs are his quarry in the chase;Wild beasts and cattle find in peace their place.
In battle, when his resounds in pride,It rends the lion’s heart, the leopard’s hide.
May his head flourish, justice fill his heart;May earth and his crowned head never part.
In briefShapur, son of Ardeshir, takes the throne and addresses the sages and nobles. He declares that kingship and wisdom are the two great estates, sets the landholders’ rate at a thirtieth, promises open justice, and renounces all claim on his subjects’ goods.
To tell of ’s kingship, pour the wine,And let the feast and royal discourse shine.
To tell of Shapur’s kingship, pour the wineEach reign in the Sasanian books opens and closes with a call for wine. The formula is the storyteller’s frame: it marks off one reign from the next, as the chapter headings of a chronicle would, and keeps the poet’s own voice audible between the speeches of kings. Hormizd’s reign, which follows, closes the same way (III, D7.13.2).
When Shapur sat upon the throne of right,He wore the crown that filled the heart with light.
The sages, , and nobles came,And stood before the king of royal name.
He spoke before them all with kingly air,The counselors of judgment, thought, and care:
“I am the lawful son of ;I learn, and speak the knowledge I hold dear.
Attend my bidding, all who serve today,And never from my covenant turn away.
Examine what I say with careful thought,And blame it if its wisdom proves ill-wrought.
From all I know of fortune, good and ill,Two forms of greatness stand before me still.
One is the Shah, the guardian of the land,The wealth of high and low is in his hand.
If he is just and fortunate, it is plainThat wisdom stands beside him to sustain.
With wisdom as his guardian and his guide,Above dark clouds his head is raised in pride.
His quest is justice, and the knowledge brightThat fills his soul with comfort and delight.
The other is the sage who strives to gainTrue wisdom, gathered through his toil and strain.
The wise man knows that thanks to God are due;Blessed is the sage who knows his Maker true.
The wise deserve to reign; however bright,Gold cannot fill the place of wisdom’s light.
Contentment makes men rich; desire will chokeThe heart, and make of it a house of smoke.
The more the greed, the more the cares accrue;Strive not to feed the greed that grows in you.
So turn to peace and deeds of good report,And shun all men of sly and crooked sort.
Who grasps at others’ goods reveals a mindWhere little learning or good sense we find.
More than the stars that fill the sky aboveIs all the measure of my boundless love.
The customs of exalted ArdeshirI shall preserve in every province here.
For landed nobles, this shall be the rate:One-thirtieth, for troops who guard the state.
One-thirtieth, for troops who guard the stateFerdowsi has almost every Sasanian king announce his fiscal policy in his accession speech, and the announcement is always a light impost justified by the customs of Ardeshir. A thirtieth of the landholders’ yield, earmarked for the troops, is presented as restraint rather than reform; the great survey and fixed land tax come later in this volume, with Qobad and Anooshirvan.
My cities thrive, my treasury stands secure;With courage, manhood, strength, I shall endure.
We need no others’ goods to serve our ends;For wealth can make sworn enemies of friends.
The road to us is open; those who pleadFor justice find our love attends their need.
We shall send men who know affairs of stateTo watch the world with care and investigate.
We ask no more than blessings for our days,Such as the pious Mobad gives in praise.”
Then high and low rose up before the throne,And made their gracious words of homage known.
They blessed Shapur with prayers of bright renown;They scattered emeralds on his shining crown.
His people all rejoiced beneath his hand,As Ardeshir’s ways flourished through the land.
In briefRum and Kaydafa march on the new Shah. At Palavina Shapur routs the Romans and takes their chief Baranush. Caesar sues for peace with tribute, slaves and hostages. Shapur founds cities, and sets Baranush to bridge the river at Shushtar.
Then tidings spread: “The King of kings is dead;His throne is empty, all its glory fled.
Wise has died and handed downHis throne to , now to wear the crown.”
The battle cry arose in every land,From to ’s assembled band.
The news reached Shapur; he prepared his might,With troops, flags, tabiras arrayed for fight.
Toward marched his army light,With no slow baggage train to check its flight.
From Kaydafa an army marched in dust,And dimmed the sun beneath its onward thrust.
From Palavina came another band,Led by a Roman chief of high command.
was that noble rider’s name,Proud in his bearing, with his soul aflame.
Among the s, honored for his fame,He cast the with a master’s aim.
As tabiras from both sides roared for fight,From Rum’s own center came a warrior bright;
From Iran came , the Lion, bold,A chieftain famed in battles manifold.
The tabiras and shouts began to roar;Bold Shapur rose within the army’s core.
At and Indian bell, the heavens swayed;The moon was shaken by the din they made.
The tabiras on elephants were bound;Their roar rose up two above the ground.
The earth was shaking, dust rose ever higher;The spears of battle glittered bright as fire.
A wise observer gazed upon the fight:“The clouds are raining stars!” he cried outright.
There in the center, Baranush was caught,His heart consumed by grief at what fate brought.
Of Romans, three full thousand men were slainAt Palavina on the reddened plain.
And twice eight hundred more were prisoners made,While grief upon those warriors’ hearts was laid.
Then Caesar sent a well-instructed man,To speak to Shapur with a peaceful plan:
“How much more blood will you pour out for gold?What answer to the Judge, when deeds are told?
When questioned on the final judgment day,What plea before the Maker will you lay?
I shall send tribute as I did before;Do not increase our sorrow any more.
With tribute, I submit to your command,And send my kin as pledges to your land.
If you withdraw from Palavina’s wall,I shall send all the wealth for which you call.”
Shapur remained until the tribute came,Ten ox-hide bags as payment for his claim.
A thousand Roman slaves and servants too,With countless rich brocades, were sent as due.
A week in Palavina Shapur stayed,Then went to , with the tribute paid.
He built a city, by name;They say his justice graced it with its fame.
A year he labored on the town, and pouredGreat sums into its walls from his own hoard.
In he built a city fair and great,A thriving place, of profit to the state.
This region lies in ; its roadIs free to prince and peasant with his load.
At , the ancient fortress rose;The day of saw all its labors close.
The day of Ard saw all its labors closeThe Zoroastrian month has thirty days, each with a name rather than a number; on Ard, see I, B9.43. Dating the completion of a building by day-name is how the poem records a lucky day, and Ferdowsi’s Sasanian kings finish walls, bridges and cities on named days as often as they win battles on them.
He took Baranush with him on each ride,And listened to the counsel he supplied.
At flowed a river broad and deep,So fierce no fish could cross its foaming sweep.
He said, “If building is your learned art,Then bridge this river; let your work now start.
Then bridge this river; let your work now startOn Shushtar and its great Sasanian weir-bridge, said to be the work of Roman prisoners, see I, B14.28. What is new here is that Ferdowsi names the engineer and makes the bridge a clause of the peace: a captive Roman pays his ransom in masonry. The Shah’s own reason is the one a poet would give — the work will outlast the man who ordered it.
For we depart, but this work still shall stand,A lasting work of skill within the land.
A thousand cubits long; ask what you need,Use all my treasure for this royal deed.
Bring Roman scholars, skilled and tried and true,To help you in the work you have to do.
When this is finished, hasten home to rest,And in your own house be your own glad guest.
Then live in joy and safety in your land,Far from all ill and from ’s hand.”
Baranush set to work to build each span;In three full years he finished all his plan.
From Shushtar, with the work complete, he turnedAnd hurried toward the home for which he yearned.
Shapur was just, in counsel wise and sure,His star exalted and his throne secure.
In briefAfter thirty years and two months Shapur’s farr disperses. He calls Hormizd, charges him to make justice his vow, to read the record of the old kings, to shield the lowly and hold gold lightly, then pales and dies as his son looks on in dread.
When thirty years and two months had passed by,His royal dispersed beneath the sky.
His royal farr dispersed beneath the skyOn the farr, see I, A4.1. In the Sasanian books its departure becomes a way of telling time: the farr leaves a king before his body does, so that the reign ends at one line and the man at another. It will be said to return to a Shapur who has lost everything but his life (III, D8.1.6).
He called to stand before his sight,And said, “My face has lost its color bright.
Be watchful when the crown is on your brow;Make justice for the world your lasting vow.
Put no great hope in kingship’s fleeting gain;Read constantly the book of ’s reign;
Read constantly the book of Jamshid’s reignThe dying charge to an heir is the backbone of the Sasanian books. Pahlavi literature is full of such andarz, testaments of wisdom attached to the names of kings and priests and copied for the instruction of officials, and Ferdowsi keeps them almost whole, so that several short reigns consist of little else. The charge to read about the former kings is also a charge to read this poem’s own earlier books.
Do only justice in the world below;Shield lowly men; on great men farr bestow.
Take little pride in gold; give freely still,Be just, and let good fortune crown your will.
Raise no loud shout at those who do no wrong,If you would have good fortune last you long.
Keep all my counsel rooted in your heart,As I kept ’s charge from the start.”
He spoke; his face grew pale, its color fled,And anguish filled the young man’s heart with dread.
In briefHormizd takes the throne, and wolf and lamb drink from one cistern. He tells the assembly to shun quarrels, envy, idleness and greed, to bind wisdom to knowledge, and to guard their speech. The court blesses him, and the years whiten his hair.
Now let my tale adorn ’s renown,And shine like moonlight on his throne and crown.
His reign was free from fault and free from blame;Its only flaw: how soon its ending came.
When mighty Shah Hormizd assumed his seat,Both wolf and lamb drank from one cistern sweet.
Both wolf and lamb drank from one cistern sweetThe image is the standard shorthand for a just reign: predator and prey at one watering place, because the strong can no longer prey on the weak. Persian and Arabic panegyric use it constantly, and it stands close to the peaceable kingdom of Isaiah, where wolf and lamb lie down together — though in the poem the point is police, not paradise.
He spoke before the sages, wise in thought,And veteran chiefs who many wars had fought:
“Since God, who gives all good, has blessed my name,And granted me the crown and royal claim,
I shall pursue the just and rightful way;Blessed he who keeps his father’s words each day.
Through kindness I would win your friendship here,And share the secrets that you hold most dear.
The headstrong man, who will not heed or hear,Finds little favor where the great appear.
The man who lets his quarrels rule his lifeFinds need renewed each year, the child of strife.
For envy is the sword the foolish bear;And fortune laughs at them in their despair.
Who feels ashamed of work will hardship know;His life grows straitened, and his bread runs low.
Avoid the base of mind, whose hearts give greedAn open door to enter and to feed.
Pass not through portals where no knowledge lives;Seek out the wisdom that good counsel gives.
Let prudent judgment flourish in your sense,And turn your hearts from every dark offense.
Wisdom is water; knowledge is the ground;Know that the two must be together bound.
No wonder if the heart of any kingGrows dark when love no longer has its spring.
May all my subjects worship God and thrive,May joy within their hearts remain alive.
May they find favor in the Maker’s sight,With wisdom’s aid in secret and in light.
When sage and pious man in converse meet,And speak about the king upon his seat,
Let every word be weighed, and then be told;For noble speech will never grow too old.
Speak nothing but good words; let none who speakIn malice find the hearing that they seek.
The great king’s heart will see what you conceal;His ear will hear the words your lips reveal.
For walls have ears, as every sage has said;So guard the living words your tongue has spread.”
For walls have ears, as every sage has saidPersian still says divār mush dārad, mush gush dārad, ‘the wall has mice and the mice have ears.’ The king’s warning is practical advice to courtiers rather than a proverb about secrets in general: in the preceding couplet he tells them plainly that whatever they conceal, the throne will hear of it.
The whole assembly blessed the noble king,His clear heart and pure faith made praises ring.
They broke up glad beneath that cypress shade,Where all his royal brightness stood displayed.
That wise Shah kept the precepts taught,The son of in word and thought.
The world rejoiced in him; how good are kingsWhen justice rules the work their bounty brings.
He ruled with modesty and justice rare,And time passed on beneath his watchful care.
Black musk gave way to camphor on his head,Both rose and Judas-bloom lay dry and dead.
Black musk gave way to camphor on his headBlack musk for dark hair, white camphor for gray: the pairing is one of the poem’s fixed ways of saying that a man has aged, and Ferdowsi uses it to end a reign in a single line. On camphor, see I, B14.20.
In briefDying, Hormizd calls Bahram and gives a long testament: reject falsehood and flattery, master anger, prefer patience to haste, weigh speech, honor the deserving, keep envy out. A scribe takes it down. The king’s color fails, and Bahram mourns forty days.
When knew that death could not be fled,In streams of blood his bitter tears were shed.
He had the carpet spread within his hall,And came in answer to the call.
He said, “My son, of pure and noble birth,Through courage and through knowledge prove your worth.
Now weakness settles through my weary frame,And cheek and hair in color grow the same.
The straight-stemmed cypress bends beneath time’s blow,The rose takes on the quince’s yellow glow.
When comes the hour for you to rule the land,Be wise, and keep oppression from your hand.
Turn not from those who call to you for right,And pardon no oppressor in your sight.
Reject all falsehood, if you would make brightYour throne and realm with justice and with light.
Let wisdom be your soul, let modest graceBe minister; let gentle speech have place.
May God, victorious, lend His aid to you;Your subjects’ hearts be quarry you pursue.
Abandon rancor; keep desire at bay,May God not let such passion rule your way;
Keep slanderers and foolish men away,And schemers too must find no place to stay.
The ignorant will bring you grief and pain;From heeding those who lack all sense refrain.
The shameless man whose tongue runs on and onWill find respect from all his fellows gone.
Let wisdom keep your anger in control;Show gentleness toward a temperate soul.
Beware of greed, for greed gives birth to wrath,And fear and need will follow in its path.
Practice forbearance, uprightness of heart,And let all fraud and falsehood stand apart.
Shun evil fame; the man whose name is stainedWill find the world’s delights are never gained.
No wise man leaves the path that wisdom taught.Haste brings remorse for what its rush has wrought.
But patience brings the rightful course to light;Hold fast to virtue; keep its path in sight.
The patient keep their anger in command,And cease to crave what lies beyond their hand.
But since the bold may think forbearance weak,When pushed too far, a wiser balance seek.
The man who holds the throne must let his mindBetween the two extremes a passage find.
Let neither haste nor slackness hold control;Let wisdom be the guide that leads your soul.
Give slanderers no praise or place with you,Nor honor those who seek out faults to view.
Seek not a foe’s affection or acclaim,Though he may hail you by your royal name.
His tree bears colocynth, though green its spread;Though you may grasp his feet, he seeks your head.
Be not deceived when fortune lifts you high,Nor when your fortunes in the lowlands lie.
Fortune is harsh to those whose hearts are vile;Be not malignant, false in speech or smile.
The noble gatherings scorn the faithless chiefWho breaks his covenant and harvests grief.
Take hold of wisdom; let it grace your mind,And keep your speech and deeds by it confined.
It graces crown, wealth, troops in their array,Reveals how sun and moon pursue their way.
Do not pursue mere wealth or passing mirth,For this brief house will cast you back to earth.
Consult the wise alone; let custom stand,The ways the former Shahs gave to the land.
With ordered troops make those who wish you illGrow fearful; look both ways with thoughtful skill.
He who will flatter worthless men for gainBestows the praise his own desires ordain.
He seeks your fall through words that he will say;Let no such flatterer beside you stay.
The man who has no use for praise, whose mindRejects its worth, count less than humankind.
For God desires praise; reproachers findHe brings their hearts distress of every kind.
Who shuts his eyes to faults and keeps control,And swallows wrath with ease within his soul,
Will prosper more with every passing day;Haste fills the heart with blood and brings dismay.
Whoever seeks to fight the mighty seaShows by that wish how foolish men can be.
Slight not my sayings; make your heart a bow,Your tongue the arrow wisdom bids you throw.
Slight not my sayings; make your heart a bowThe figure is worked out over four lines: the heart is the bow, the tongue the arrow, and the speaker is told to expand his chest and hold his arm straight before choosing his mark. An archery lesson has been turned into a lesson in speech, and the technical vocabulary is real — this is how the poem elsewhere describes a man about to shoot.
Expand your chest, your arm held straight and true;Then set whatever mark appeals to you.
Let heart and tongue conform to wisdom still;Then speak, in that accord, of what you will.
The man of understanding, sound of mind,Has worthy words and counsel well designed.
When with your counselors you speak apart,Let no assembled crowd take any part.
If long experience guides the thoughts you weigh,Your fortune shall increase from day to day.
Your soul shall grow more watchful than your foe;Your heart and brain and counsel stronger grow.
The passion-led will prosper not, but fail;Their counsels find no course that can prevail.
If you greet friends with welcome and delight,Their joy will grow, their pleasure gain new height.
Let furrows mark your brow as foes draw near;Make those who wish you ill grow pale with fear.
Give to the worthy all you wish to share;Your treasure is for those deserving care.
Keep heart and soul from envy; from it flowHot tears of blood, the bitter streams of woe.
The upright scorn the king whom envy gnaws;They blame the Shah who feeds its hungry jaws.”
A noble scribe recorded all he heard;The minister received the written word.
A noble scribe recorded all he heardFerdowsi shows the document being made: the king speaks, a scribe writes, the minister receives the copy. That is how such counsel actually circulated, as written testaments under a royal name, and it explains why these speeches reached the poet in so finished a form. On the andarz, see III, D7.12.3.
The king sighed coldly, breathing out his grief;His ruby cheeks turned yellow as a leaf.
When once-bright cheeks grew yellow in his sight,For Bahram all the world was robbed of light.
For forty days he mourned, his spirit bowed;Dust on the idle throne lay like a shroud.
So heaven turns above the world below,Now full of anguish, now with love aglow.
If you are wise, do not call heaven your friend;It tears your skin when chance will serve its end.
Night falls on , in the month of Dey;Set speech aside; let wine conclude the day.
In briefBahram’s reign lasts three years, three months and three days. He warns the chiefs against passion and idleness, tells them a king must shelter the Faith, and opens his treasury to the poor. Then he hands the world to his son and namesake, who buries him.
Now sing of , crowned in royal state,Whose reign was brief, so swift the turns of fate.
When Bahram sat upon the throne of gold,His heart still seethed with grief he could not hold.
Three years, three months, three days his reign would last;In gladness on the throne those days were passed.
Three years, three months, three days his reign would lastThe Sasanian books give every reign an exact span, down to months and days, because they come to Ferdowsi from a chronicle list. The triple three has the ring of a figure rounded for the ear, and the record likewise allows this Bahram only about three years; a whole reign here is one speech, a warning, and a funeral.
The chiefs of Iran came before the throne,Their belts girt fast, their loyal service shown.
They called God’s blessing down upon his head:“Live while the royal throne endures,” they said.
“The Kayan crown befits the head you raise;Your fathers held the kingship in their days.
May all your foes grow pale before your might,And may your soul put grief for death to flight.”
He answered, “Chiefs and nobles of the land,And champions who lead the mounted band,
Let landed nobles, loyal to the throne,And royal servants make no wrong their own.
Behold this restless dome that wheels above,Blind to the nurtured child and parents’ love.
Bind passion’s hands and cast its words aside;Let not its counsel in your breast abide.
It roots men out in shame; its cruel handPlucks them like birds left bare at its command.
Whoever keeps himself from evil deed,And guards his body from its taint, is freed
To live in joy; when comes his final breath,His heart will feel no anguish at his death.
The Shah should guard the wealth within the land,And cherish pious people with his hand.
The king must shelter Faith; let it be knownThat Faith crowns him who sits upon the throne.
Without that Faith, no kingship can remain,Though yet another crown he may obtain.
Blessed is he who masters wrath with mind,And walks the earth with conduct just and kind.
In want, be glad, and still to bounty spurred;May no realm lack the sage whose voice is heard.
The sage will never trample on a foeWhom he has power to crush and overthrow.
Pass not through life in ignorance; instead,Let knowledge be the path on which you tread.
Let those who seek renown reject all strife;Keep clear of it throughout your mortal life.
Know nobles, troops, and kings who idle lieWill lose their proper road beneath the sky.
The idle sleep, then wake to deep remorse;When roused, they grieve for their neglected course.
Fair words with evil deeds will never earnThe praise or Paradise for which you yearn.
Speak truth and do good deeds, and never tearThe hearts of worthy people everywhere.
I hold great treasure, majesty, and might,With many dinars and a king’s full right.
Enjoy your own; whoever has no store,Through my great treasure need be poor no more.
My purse is open; let no need endure,Its wealth stands ready to sustain the poor.”
Not many days had passed before the shearsDrew near the crowned head to end its years.
The Shah possessed a son, his heart’s delight,Bahram, his namesake, heir to royal right.
He brought his son to sit below the throne,And said, “Green branch that from my tree has grown,
Not long have I enjoyed the crown I wear;May fortune bless the years that are your share.
From crown and throne no joy was mine to reap;May fortune grant you blessings rich and deep.
Sing, flourish, let your laughter ring out long;Let peace and gladness fill your life with song.
So walk that when the Great Account is read,You face your Maker free from shame and dread.
The world was made to feed our daily need,And not to heap up more and more through greed.
Eat, give, and tend the soul; with wisdom’s hand,Break evil’s foot, and let no malice stand.
By justice and by bounty make earth thrive,And let your subjects’ joy remain alive.
For neither kings nor remainForever; none can hold the world’s domain.”
The father gave his son the world to keep;The son gave him a ’s peaceful sleep.
The son gave him a dakhmeh’s peaceful sleepThe couplet is built as an exchange: the father hands over the world, the son hands back a tomb. On the dakhmeh, see I, B12.25. Ferdowsi likes to close a short reign on this kind of balanced line, where the syntax does the grieving.
Know this is no injustice of the sky;You breathe like passing wind, then fade and die.
This law endures while heaven’s wheel shall roll;Why then afflict and trouble your own soul?
Why ask or speak of what may come to view?Such matters are no proper task for you.
Though greed has not yet worn your soul away,A narrow coffin is your place to stay.
Since death has such a wolfish heart, let mineHave one great bowl filled to the brim with wine.
And bring a sweetheart, silver-bodied, tallAs cypress, kind, whose honeyed words enthrall;
With jasmine scent, bright cheeks, and moonlike bloom,Sun-bright, with breath as rich as musk perfume.
In briefAfter forty days of mourning Bahram is persuaded to the throne and crowns himself by Kayan rite. He praises God, tells the Mobadan not to let learning breed pride, preaches contentment and moderation, rules justly nineteen years, and goes to the dakhmeh.
For forty days, in mourning for the dead, would set no crown upon his head.
The warriors and counselors, grave and wise,Came with lamenting hearts and tearful eyes.
They sat in mourning, cheeks of yellow hue,Their lips like lapis-lazuli, dark blue.
Their lips like lapis-lazuli, dark blueThe blue is mourning. The court has yellow cheeks and lips the color of lapis, and dark blue was worn for the dead in Iran as black is now; the poem colors grief the same way in clothes and in faces. The whole scene is the standard forty days between a death and a coronation.
A prudent Mobad came to plead his case,That Shah Bahram should take his royal place.
For one full week he urged him to his seat,And stayed until his purpose was complete.
He gladly took the throne in royal state,And crowned himself as Kayan rites dictate.
He first praised God, who makes the ages bright,And sets revolving time aglow with light;
Who fosters knowledge, truth, and all things wise,And lays low crookedness and fraud and lies;
of Saturn and the heavens aboveAsks servants but for justice and for love.
Then said, “Tried sages, pure , hear:You men of long experience, lend an ear.
However great your knowledge, let it breedNo pride before your kings in word or deed.
Let wisdom guide your deeds in royal ways,And drink to bless the Shah of Iran’s days.
The man whom God grants increase and command,And eloquence, receives them from His hand.
Let all our deeds be generous and fair;Let justice make earth flourish everywhere.
May I not breathe a word of wrong or greed,Nor fill my treasure through a crooked deed.
My treasure is for gifts that I bestow;A king’s good deeds through open giving show.
A man whose mind is clear will seek to learn,And toward humane and kindly conduct turn.
Forbearance is the root of human worth;The rash bring scorn upon themselves on earth.
Let harshness never snare you in its net;No joy from rage and rashness will you get.
The man secure finds joy; his toil and painTurn into wind, and leave on him no stain.
The generous heart is richer than the rest;It counts amassed dirhams as wind at best.
If you have nothing, labor to acquire;For few will honor those whose needs are dire.
A man with nothing gains no honored place;He finds no standing, no regard or grace.
When you are satisfied, your heart finds peace;But greed brings fears that give you no release.
So do not toil through greed for hoarded wealth,And drive your soul and body from their health.
Choose moderation if you seek men’s praise,In matters high and low throughout your days.
Make all the world content through justice shown;Its wealth and joy will then become your own.
Security and uprightness must stand,With justice never failing in the land.
But if greed clutches at your heart and will,Your soul lies trapped in the ’s throat still.
Your soul lies trapped in the nahang’s throat stillOn the nahang, see I, A0.11. In these short reigns it becomes an image for death and for greed alike — a sea-beast that swallows, so that the greedy man’s soul is already in its throat. The next chapter names death itself the nahang, and adds that its hunting frightens the elephant and the rhinoceros.
When joy grows less, the spirit dwindles too,And weakened wisdom cannot see you through.
Such is the turning heavens’ settled course;Against fate’s will we have no strength or force.”
He ruled with justice, keeping faith with right;His subjects’ hearts rejoiced in its delight.
When nineteen years of royal rule were spent,His reign was closed, and life poured out lament.
The crowned Shah joined the dust; a ’s shadeHid him from all the joy the world displayed.
In briefBahram Bahramian is crowned, styled Kermanshah, and pledges justice and bounty. Four months later death draws near; he counsels his son, hands crown and throne to Narsi, and dies. The poet breaks off to ask for red wine at sixty-three.
began to reign,And pledged to make just rule and bounty plain.
They sprinkled emeralds upon his crown,And named him of high renown.
And named him Kermanshah of high renownThe word is a title, not a personal name: ‘Shah of Kerman’, one of the governorships Sasanian princes held before coming to the throne. The record gives this Bahram a different one — king of the Sakas — and attaches Kermanshah to a later Bahram of the house, who governed Kerman before his accession and after whom the western city (I, A9.3) is usually named. The poem has moved the title back.
He said, “May God, whose judgments all are fair,Grant wisdom, justice, counsel as our share.
My blessed father, generous and just,Was shepherd to the kings within his trust.
May goodness be the work I make my own;May good and justice guide me on the throne.
May I do nothing crooked, lest my nameBefore be darkened by my shame.
This fleeting house will not remain with man;May goodness help me through this fleeting span.
Let us choose good, and pledge both heart and handTo justice and to bounty in the land.
Both good and evil deeds preserve our name.Sow only good, and leave no seed of shame.”
When four brief months of royal rule were past,The throne and crown wept, bitter and downcast.
saw death, the dread , draw near,Whose hunt both elephant and rhino fear.
He gave his son the world and said, “May lightAnd grace attend your reign and keep it bright.
Array yourself, drink wine, enjoy your reign;Give freely; let no throne or crown bring pain.”
When Bahram’s day and fortune both had flown,He gave to both the crown and throne.
He breathed a sigh; his life had reached its close,And in the burial chamber found repose.
Thus moments race, each breath beyond the heedOf one whose soul is mastered by his greed.
“O happy fortune, bring red wine to me;The poet now has lived for sixty-three.”
The poet now has lived for sixty-three.”The closing wine-couplets of a reign are where the poet speaks in his own person, and here he gives his age. These asides accumulate across the Sasanian books — sixty-three returns at the end of the Shapur cycle (III, D8.1.12) and again after it (III, D8.4) — so that the poem records its own composition alongside the reigns it narrates.
In briefNarsi takes the ivory seat, blesses the still-mourning nobles, and praises wisdom, courage and diligence while condemning sloth. After nine years his strength fails; he charges his son Hormizd to rule by the laws of kings, then draws his mantle over his head and dies.
When sat upon the ivory seat,And wore the crown that made his joy complete,
When Narsi sat upon the ivory seatNarsi is Middle Persian Narseh, usually derived from the Avestan divine messenger Nairyō.saŋha; it runs in the Sasanian house and is borne by a brother of Shapur earlier in these books. The ivory seat is one of the poem’s several thrones, distinguished by material rather than by shape.
The nobles came with offerings in hand,Still mourning for his father through the land.
He blessed them: “Friends who guard the Faith and right,May justice keep your hearts in steady light.
Know that the Maker governs all we seeAnd all things hidden; He has granted me
Greatness and wisdom, justice, modest mind,A generous heart, soft speech, and counsel kind.
And if my star should rise both clear and bright,From me shall come your joy and heart’s delight.
When any wise man’s friendship you can win,Know you and he are clothed within one skin.
Expect good deeds from those whose strength is sound,And seek the wise where wisdom can be found.
True courage comes from watchful, prudent ways,And valiant men are worthy of all praise.
But he who flees from work and shuns the fightWill lose his name and honor through that flight.
The idle man is cowardly within,For sloth and cowardice are close of kin.”
For nine full years he ruled with counsel sound;His words brought benefit the whole world round.
His day drew near, and fortune’s favor fled;Like wax grew soft the steel helm on his head.
Like wax grew soft the steel helm on his headA helm of steel gone soft as wax: the poem registers the end of a reign in one physical image, as it does elsewhere with the bending cypress, the rose turning quince-yellow, and musk giving way to camphor (III, D7.13.1). Here the image is martial, which suits a king praised for valor.
ran to his bedside, fair and bright,A tulip glowing with its own rich light.
Narsi’s own son was like the moon at night,That shines through darkness, silvery and white.
The Shah said, “Gently nurtured youth, remainWith all your strength apart from vice and stain.
You, Narsi’s soul, with ’s fortune blessed,Are worthy of the throne and royal crest.
You have great stature, courage, learned grace,In knowledge none can stand to take your place.
May crown not weep because of how you reign;Nor let your council’s hearts burn with such pain.
Rule by the laws of kings throughout the land,As you have learned from God’s own pure command.
May joy within your heart and soul increase;May greatness, treasure flourish without cease.
At length your own bright day will pass from view,And rolling heaven trample over you.
So act that when they question you that day,Your answers bring good fortune on your way.”
Thus spoke the Shah, then drew across his headThe mantle; from his depths a cold sigh spread.
That day it seemed no Narsi ever reigned;No throne, no crown, no royal seat remained.
In briefHormizd keeps the world at peace, praises God, and warns against base company, ingratitude, sloth and self-praise. After nine years he dies, leaving no son. The nobles despair until the Mobad finds a pregnant woman in the harem, and the crown is hung above her.
When great assumed the royal seat,The wolves no longer dared to hunt for meat.
He kept the world in peace beneath his hand,And foiled ’s schemes throughout the land.
First he praised God, all-knowing and all-wise,The mighty Lord, whose care all life supplies.
“He made the night and day, the turning sky,Saturn and Mars, the sun that wheels on high.
All victory and grace, just heart and crown,Come forth from Him, whose light is handed down.
May justice fill my heart and guide my hand;May joy through me reach those whom I command.
The hearts of base men never gather praise;Avoid their fellowship throughout your days.
Take counsel not with men of evil mind,But seek the good, whose judgment is refined.
The pious call no giver truly kindWho gives for thanks he later hopes to find.
The man who takes a gift but gives no thanksDeserves no place among the honored ranks.
The harsh man trembles when no friend is near.With none to love him, he is prey to fear.
The wise man takes no idler as his guide;No slothful helper should remain beside.
If slothful men are those on whom you call,You cannot rule or judge men, great or small.
Beware self-praise and arrogance of heart;Let not the throne make modesty depart.
When one ill-natured grows both poor and vile,He blames his fortune and complains awhile.
He idles, blaming fate; no counsel, lore,Or worth to grace a throne is in his store.
The loss of wealth diminishes his soul,His mind and heart, and leaves him less than whole.
He prides himself on want and evil ways,And lifts his head in folly all his days.
He lacks all wealth and knowledge, counsel, skill,Faith, and the favor of God’s righteous will.
May all your nights and days be blessed and bright,May foes’ souls from their bodies take their flight.”
The chiefs acclaimed his words with one accord,And raised their heads from mourning, hope restored.
Nine years passed; his pomegranate-blossom faceTurned yellow, and its bloom left not a trace.
That crowned head grieved at death; his life was done,And at his bedside there was not a son.
That famous king, whose words were sweetly told,Departed young; the world was worn and old.
The people mourned for him for forty days,And left the vacant throne beneath their gaze.
The nobles’ heads were filled with anxious care,While the great throne stood empty of its heir.
The Mobad saw, within the women’s place,A maid with tulip cheeks and moon-bright face.
Her lashes curved like s made;Like Babylonian script, her curls were laid.
Her lashes curved like khanjars Kabul madeCurved lashes compared to a khanjar, and Kabul named for the blade: Indian steel is the standard of excellence in Persian verse, and Kabul stands on the road by which it reached Iran, so the comparison may be reaching for a blade’s edge as well as its shape. On Kabul, see I, A8.1.
Her chain-like locks were twisted, wound, and spread,All intertwined and knotted on her head.
Within her womb she bore the royal seed,The realm took heart from what had been decreed.
Above her head they hung the royal crown,And on it showered gold and dirhams down.
Above her head they hung the royal crownA crown suspended over an unborn child is the poem’s solution to a dynastic emergency, and the Arabic historians who drew on the same Persian sources report it too: this Shapur was said to have been made king in the womb. Whatever lies behind the story, it gave the tradition the longest reign of the dynasty, since it is counted from his birth.