Shah of Iran · House of Sasan

Khosrow Parvizخسرو پرویز

khos-ROW par-VEEZalso Khosrow (Vol III)

Son of Hormizd, the Sasanian Shah who flees to Caesar in Rum and returns to win back the throne.

His story: From E5.26, Bahram’s Letter and Khosrow’s Flight, to E8.5, The Death of Khosrow Parviz
Named: 273 times, in 67 sections
Parents: Hormizd (son of Anooshirvan), Sister of Bandvi and Gostaham
Spouses: Maryam, Shirin
Children: Shiruyeh
Plates: Vol III: I, Vol III: VII, Vol III: VIII
Pictures: 51 panels · identity sheets

How we draw Khosrow Parviz

The identity sheets the illustrator works from, one for each stage of life. Tap to open full size. More in the Art section.

Khosrow Parviz, identity sheet: Prince, youth (~15) — **Prince, youth (~15)**

Khosrow Parviz, identity sheet: Young king, first down (~18–22) — **Young king, first down (~18–22)**

Khosrow Parviz, identity sheet: King in his prime (~25–45) — **King in his prime (~25–45)**

Khosrow Parviz, identity sheet: Older king (~55) — **Older king (~55)**

In the pictures

Khosrow Parviz in 51 woodcut panels of the illustrated poem, in story order. Tap one to see it with the couplets it illustrates.

E5.3Justice in the Trampled Field

E5.26Khosrow Warned at the Wine-Cup

E5.29News Reaches Khosrow at Azargashasp

E6.2Jewels Rain on the New Crown

E6.3Khosrow Kneels Before His Blinded Father

E6.5Gordvi Points Out Bahram Chubin

E6.5Bahram Answers from the Saddle

E6.5Khosrow Prays Bareheaded to the Sun

E6.5Khosrow Laughs and Turns His Rein

E6.6A Turk's Lasso Snares the Royal Crown

E6.7Khosrow's Arrow Fells Bahram's Charger at the Bridge

E6.9Khosrow Sleeps at the House of God

All 51 pictures

E6.13The Arab Kais Feeds the Exiles

E6.13The Storm Breaks the Walls of Karsan

E6.13The Hermit Names Gostaham

E6.21Khosrow Greets Maryam

E6.22Mawsil Kisses the Royal Stirrup

E6.23Bahram's Letters Laid before the Shah

E6.24Bahram Chubin Cleaves Kut the Roman

E6.24Kut's Body Returned on His Charger

E6.25Arrows Rain on Bahram's White Elephant

E6.25Soroush Saves Khosrow in the Mountain Pass

E6.25Maryam Sees Khosrow Return

E6.26Khosrow's Sword Shatters on Bahram's Helm

E6.28Khosrow Dons the Cross-Marked Robe

E6.29Bandvi Strikes Niyatus at the Feast

E6.30Khosrow Weeps Before Azargashasp's Fire

E6.39Kharrad's Mouth Filled with Jewels

E6.44Bandvi Seized at the Shah's Board

E6.47Gurdiyeh Comes Armored to Khosrow's Throne

E6.48Gurdiyeh Rides Before the Shah and Shirin

E6.50The Kitten on the Golden Horse

E6.51Khosrow Gives His Father's Coins to the Poor

E6.52Star-Readers Cast Shiruyeh's Horoscope

E6.53Khanagi Bows Before Khosrow

E7.2The Shah's Hunting Train

E7.2Shirin Weeps on the Rooftop

E7.3The Blood-Fouled Golden Basin

E7.5Craftsmen Rebuild the Taqdis Throne

E7.5The Throne of Taqdis and the Great Carpet

E7.6Barbad Sings from the Cypress

E7.6Barbad Bows Before Khosrow

E7.7Nowruz Beneath the Hanging Crown

E7.10Shirin Hears the Watchmen Cry

E7.11The Horsemen Turn Back from the King

E7.11Khosrow Led Away on the Elephant

E8.1The Fallen Quince

E8.2The Envoys Grieve Before Khosrow

E8.3Shirin Feeds the Captive King

E8.5Khosrow's Last Rite

E8.6Shirin in Khosrow's Tomb

His story, in the poem’s own sections

10 sections, with the summary from the Notes. Open any one to read it in full here; tap a couplet number to cite it or suggest a better one.

E5.26

Bahram’s Letter and Khosrow’s Flight

Bahram’s letter renounces Hormizd and declares for Khosrow, hoping the father will kill the son. Hormizd, seeing letter and coins, orders Khosrow poisoned. Warned by a chamberlain, Khosrow flees to Azar Abadagan, where the frontier lords swear to him; Hormizd imprisons his kin.

59 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 8 times · in the full poem

Bahram Chubin chose a prudent man,Brave as Soroush, to carry out his plan.

He wrote a blustering letter, long and wide,Of Saveh’s force and proud Parmudeh’s pride.

He told how he and all his troops had fought,And of the royal gifts that war had brought.

He named the black spindle case and the shameThe woman’s coif had brought upon his name.

“You shall not see me, even in a dream;Pull back your fishing hook from out the stream.

When high-born Khosrow Parviz takes the throne,I shall obey no order but his own.

I shall lay mountains low, make summits fall,Flood sands with foes like Jihun at his call.

Though young, his wisdom fits him well to rule;You show no more discernment than a fool.

I have accepted him as king of kings,And serve no other lord beneath heaven’s wings.”

He wished the king would put his son to death,Though innocent, and stop his royal breath.

He feared the prince, whose charm could draw men near,And set these words down for the Shah to hear.

He told the merchant, “When the Shah has seenThese coins, he will lament what they may mean.

Without his son to stand beside his throne,He will confront my onslaught on his own.

I shall cast deference aside and rendThe roots of Sasan till their line shall end.

God did not make the earth for them to reignAlone; their blessing must no more remain.”

The envoy rode with noblemen from Rey;To Tisfoon’s royal court they made their way.

When Hormizd took the letter in his hand,He paled to read what Bahram Chubin planned.

Then word of new-struck coinage reached his ear,And grief on grief increased his doubt and fear.

He writhed and turned suspicion on his son,And told Ayin Gashasp what had been done.

“Khosrow Parviz has grown too bold,” he said;“He seeks revolt and raises high his head.

His name on newly minted coins is clear;Could he despise me more or show less fear?”

Ayin Gashasp replied, “Without you, sire,May field and horse elude his heart’s desire.

Your son Khosrow has wandered far astray;He has no right to act in such a way.”

Hormizd replied, “That upstart soon shall fall;He shall not see my blow approach at all.”

That lord replied, “While you are living, mayNo foe attain his wish or win the day.”

One night, in secret, they called one man near,And brought him close, the Shah’s command to hear.

The Shah said, “Khosrow must be put to death;Obey my order: take his final breath.”

He answered, “I shall drive love from my heart;Send me your poison; I shall play my part.

Some dark night, when he is drunk, I shall pourPoison in his wine; he will drink no more.

Far better thus to take his life,” he said,“Than stain my hands with blood that I have shed.”

The son, still unaware of what was planned,Sat glorious in his palace, cup in hand.

With charming idols and delightful wine,He passed his days, blind to the dark design.

Two days each week he rode out to the chase,A brave young horseman, full of charm and grace.

For God had willed that Khosrow’s crown should riseFor many years beyond the moonlit skies.

A chamberlain caught wind of that dark deed,And cast aside both sleep and every need.

He hurried to Khosrow and made it clear:The king was plotting murder out of fear.

He learned the plot and fled that very night;He left Tisfoon and vanished out of sight.

He saved his precious head and spurred his steedTo Azar Abadagan at great speed.

When tidings of his coming filled the air,The frontier lords rose up with loyal care.

They said, “Khosrow, aggrieved by royal spite,Has fled with only a few men in flight.”

They sought the well-loved prince along his road;From all the northern keeps the nobles flowed.

The border marshals gathered round and said:“The royal crown befits your youthful head!

The throne and helm are yours by right and grace;Iran and desert spearmen seek your face.

Whatever swordsmen, chiefs, and men you needWill gather at your call, each on his steed.

Your farr will lead the army. Fear no blow;Live great and glad, beloved by high and low.

At times we shall ride hunting through the land,Or we before Azargashasp shall stand,

And pray as all our fathers prayed of old,Before the fire whose rites we still uphold.

Though all Iran’s three hundred thousand rideTo cast you down, we stand upon your side.

Our lives we shall give for you on the field,And honor those whose lives become your shield.”

He said, “I fear the Shah and all his men;Give me your oath, and I shall trust you then.

Come first before Azargashasp and takeAn oath, and give a pledge you will not break.

Then I shall stay, assured of where you stand,And fear no Ahriman within this land.”

The warriors, hearing him, all duly cameTo swear before Azargashasp’s bright flame.

They swore the oath he asked with solemn breath:“We prize your love and serve you to the death.”

Assured of all the chiefs, he, still awareOf peril, sent his spies out everywhere,

To learn what Hormizd said, and to reportWhat fresh designs were forming at his court.

When Hormizd heard that Khosrow Parviz fled,Revenge and fury filled his royal head.

He ordered Bandvi and Gostaham bound tight,Both uncles of the prince by mother’s right.

The prince’s other kin, apart from these,Were dragged to prison by the king’s decrees.

E6.2

Khosrow Parviz Takes the Throne

Khosrow is crowned and jewels are showered on him. He tells the great men that the throne came by God’s grace, promises justice and peace, and binds his court by three pledges: not to harm the just, not to rebel, and not to covet other men’s goods.

17 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 1 time · in the full poem

E6.7

Khosrow Flees the Night Attack

Bahram strikes first at cockcrow with six thousand swordsmen. Khosrow watches the slaughter from a hill, charges the three Turks, and is deserted. He sends the treasure over the bridge, fights Bahram, shoots two horses from under their riders, then breaks the bridge and rides for Tisfoon.

54 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 6 times · in the full poem

When Bahram learned the troops inclined his way,He ordered fires to keep the dark at bay.

In every quarter watchfires blazed and spread;Then Bahram marked the fiercest men he led.

Six thousand swordsmen, chosen for their might,The scribes had counted, ready for the fight.

He cried, “When tabiras at cockcrow sound,Raise battle-shouts that shake the solid ground.

Charge in, and let your battle-shouts resound;With blood let all the noble heads be crowned.”

Led by three Turks, the troops rushed to the fight,And fell upon the king’s troops in the night.

A din of gorz and club and sword arose;Earth turned to iron; dust obscured the foes.

The soldiers cried, “Where is Khosrow the king?Today our victory shall make earth ring.”

Khosrow stood on the hill in bitter pain,His eyes like blood, his cheeks a lapis stain.

Bewildered by the battle’s fearful turn,He pondered what to do with deep concern.

Until the shafts of dawn began to rise,The slaughter weighed upon his heart and eyes.

But when dark night had drawn its skirt away,He saw the dead and wounded where they lay.

He told his chiefs, “Now help me. Strike the foe;Let all your strength and loyal courage show.

For God the Victor is my help and stay;My task is striking with the sword today.”

He charged straight at the three proud Turks in wrath,Three wolves of blood that barred his battle path.

One closed with him and raised his glittering blade,And at the royal crown a fierce stroke made.

The royal rider caught it on his shield,Then struck and hurled the Turk upon the field.

“Famed fighters, stand a little longer here!”He cried to all the warriors standing near.

Yet all his troops turned back and fled the fight,And left the prince alone in sorry plight.

He said to Gostaham and bold Bandvi,“I read ill omens in what now I see.

I have no grown son fit to take command,Nor kin to wear the crown of Iran’s land.

If I am slain in battle’s storm today,The world will have no king to guide its way.”

Bandvi replied, “O noble prince, ride on;Do not remain, for all your troops have gone.

Let all the world still yearn for you; take flight;No man remains to guard your royal right.”

Then Khosrow said to Gordvi, “Hasten now;Take Tukhar with you, loyal to his vow.

Secure the tents, the treasure, and brocade,The crown, the slaves, the money bags displayed.

Lead out a thousand horsemen; bring awayThe ivory throne and what you find today.”

The nobles labored hard to load the train,And bear the treasure from the battle plain.

Then rose a dragon-banner in the fight;The world turned violet before its sight.

Behind that flag rode Bahram, fierce and proud,Who dimmed the world’s bright luster like a cloud.

Then Khosrow met him, fighting hard and long,Two fierce war-lions, terrible and strong.

Like elephants of war, with fury red,They struck their blows at one another’s head.

Bahram wheeled lion-like around the field;His weapons failed to force the king to yield.

The sun passed through the dome; upon the ground,Their struggle raged beyond all measure’s bound.

Then Tukhar came: “The treasure and the trainHave crossed the bridge; none on this side remain.”

The monarch said to Gostaham, “No friendRemains to help us see this warfare end.

We are but ten; their army fills the land,Led by a Pahlevan of high command.

If only some would help me in the fray,I would not turn my head and ride away.

Timely retreat is better than to fight;Alone, we must withdraw from hostile might.”

The youthful king then reached the bridge in pain,Pursued by Bahram, vengeance in his brain.

Khosrow beheld him, stopped, and called his guide,The seasoned Gostaham, to stand by his side.

“Bring me my bow,” he cried, “whose tongue shall tellMy words in battle, where it serves me well.”

The treasurer brought the bow at his command;For Gostaham directed what was planned.

The Shah poured arrows forth, and darkness spread;One shaft would stitch a helmet to a head.

Then Bahram charged with kamand raised on high,A dragon under him against the sky.

His horse was bare of armor in the fight;The king turned back and saw him with delight.

He strung his bow and struck the charger’s chest;The wounded horse collapsed and lay at rest.

The sepahbod, on foot, then raised his shield;He grasped his head, distressed upon the field.

Then Yalan-sina charged; the king, in scorn,Shot at the horse by which the chief was borne.

On foot he left the bridge, his charger lame;The troops withdrew along the way they came.

When Bahram drew away from bridge and fight,Khosrow destroyed the bridge and took to flight.

He sped to Tisfoon, full of grief and fears,His heart in pain, his eyes with bloody tears.

He barred the city gates with iron tight,And sat with anxious thoughts of all their plight.

He summoned all his chiefs, from ward and post,And manned the gates where danger threatened most.

E6.21

Caesar Sends Aid and a Bride

Caesar sends seventy thousand troops under his brother Niyatus and gives his daughter Maryam to Khosrow with an enormous dowry. He rides three stages with the train, charges Niyatus with her safety, and turns back weeping. Khosrow greets bride and legions with joy.

60 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 4 times · in the full poem

When Caesar learned the legions gathered near,And horsemen’s dust made heaven’s vault unclear,

Full seventy thousand chosen Roman spearsHe picked for war, seasoned through veteran years;

He ordered gold and chargers and display,Refusing longer to endure delay.

He had a daughter, Maryam by name,Wise, grave, resolved, and high in royal fame.

He gave her to the Shah by sacred rite,And prayed that God would bless their union bright.

Gostaham took her in the royal way,And gave her to the Shah in due array.

He brought such bridal wealth, so great a load,That swift pack-beasts grew slow upon the road.

Gold ornaments and jewels fit to wear,Gemmed raiment, carpets costly, rich, and rare,

Roman brocade with golden patterns bright,On silk embroidered, wondrous to the sight,

Torques, bracelets, earrings, all of gold refined,Three diadems with jewels intertwined.

Four gilded litters, too, with curtained screensSewn thick with royal jewels, fit for queens.

And forty more of ebony were made,With jewel-bright designs across them laid.

Three hundred moon-faced maids came in her train,All fragrant, graceful, lovely, free from stain.

Five hundred slaves, alert, came in array,With gold and silver harness on display.

And forty Roman eunuchs, fair of face,Illustrious men, moved on with courtly grace.

Four philosophers of Rum were sent,Wise, learned men in counsel eloquent.

He gave them their instructions, then apartAddressed fair Maryam with a father’s heart.

He spoke of rest, desire, and daily need,Of gifts and food, and seemliness in deed.

The bridal wealth was counted; its vast storeWas thrice a hundred million, even more.

To every envoy present in his courtHe gave rich robes and steeds of noble sort.

He gave them jeweled crowns and gold past count,And robes, and each a noble steed to mount.

He bade them write, “O servants, yours the rightTo raise your heads up to the moon’s own height.

No man more worthy, high or low in birth,Than Gostaham shall rise upon this earth.

What man like Shapur speaks with judgment clear,And mediates the counsels that we hear?

Balvi keeps secrets; nothing men can payWill make him sell the noble-born away.

And none who lives through many years shall knowA man like Kharrad, wise in joy and woe.

God taught him mysteries no eye could find,And made his counsel sunlight to the mind.

Faultless as sunlight, all his deeds are bright;His works are godly, guided by the right.”

The star-reader was summoned to adviseWhen they should march beneath propitious skies.

On Bahram day great Caesar led the way,With happy omens blessing their array.

Three stages Caesar rode beside the train;The fourth, he halted there, and drew his rein.

He bade fair Maryam come and spoke at length,With tender counsel, fatherly in strength:

“Keep, dearest child, your girdle round your waistTill you reach Iran, guarded, pure, and chaste.

Let Khosrow never see your body bare,Lest some new matter take you unaware.”

He said farewell with tenderness and care:“May heaven shield you safely everywhere.”

Caesar had one brave brother, strong and wise,Niyatus, honored under Roman skies.

He said, “Fair Maryam is your blood and race;In Faith and kinship, guard her life and grace.

I charge you with these legions and this wealth,With her fair safety, honor, peace, and health.”

Niyatus took the charge without delay;Then Caesar turned in tears and rode away.

The legions marched along the road ahead;With gorz and sword, Niyatus rode and led.

When Khosrow heard the legions had arrived,He led his armed men out, his hopes revived.

When standards rose through dust across the plain,And riders clad in jowshans came in train,

The legions came like clouds in iron bright,In helm and cuirass, terrible to sight.

His spirit bloomed like roses in the spring;New royal pride revived the warrior-king:

He spurred to meet Niyatus on the plain,Embracing him before the Roman train,

And poured forth praises on great Caesar’s name,Who sent such legions to redeem his fame!

Then joyful Khosrow, to the bride’s abode,Rode in, and there to Maryam’s presence strode.

He greeted her, and, kissing her soft hand,Rejoiced to see the bride from Caesar’s land.

He bore his Moon back to his royal tent,And there three days in talk with her he spent.

Upon the fourth, when Sol began to shine,They decked a chosen lodging, fair and fine.

He summoned Sarges, Kut, Niyatus all,With great and lesser chiefs into the hall.

He asked, “Which chiefs among these men todayCan wield the gorz and sword in war’s array?”

Then Niyatus chose seventy chiefs of might,Each set above a thousand men in fight.

Khosrow Parviz surveyed that chosen throng,The noble horsemen, keen for war, and strong.

He praised the Maker of the earth and sky,Who turns both time and heaven wheeling high.

He praised Niyatus and the troops he led,And Caesar and his realm, so widely spread.

Then said, “If mighty God shall aid my fight,The world shall see the measure of my might.

I shall make earth a sea where jewels gleam,My gifts shall flow among you like a stream.

You will rejoice that you have joined my cause,Your tongues, once silent, now shall voice applause.

Let thoughts of friends alone within us flower,With heaven our friend, and noble love our bower.”

E6.25

Soroush Saves Khosrow from Bahram

Bahram’s elephant is shot from under him and he fights on foot. Khosrow rides out with fourteen chosen men, who scatter; chased into a blind cave, he prays and is carried to safety by Soroush. Bahram, seeing it, despairs of his fortune, and Khosrow renews the battle.

148 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 20 times · in the full poem

When day’s white banner rose above the main,The stars lost hope of darkness and its reign.

The drummers left both camp-enclosures then,With elephants and karnays before men.

The horns gave voice; from elephants on high,The brazen tabiras boomed to the sky.

The plains and uplands seemed to heave and shake;The sun grew raven-black amid the quake.

The Iranians formed ranks and grasped their spears,And Indian swords flashed bright against their fears.

The earth appeared one cuirass, hard and bright;The spearheads kindled stars with points of light.

When Khosrow set the center in array,The troops took heart and stood prepared that day.

Gordvi, the valiant, held the army’s right,A chief of name and practiced arm in fight.

Upon the left, an Armenian of mightStood jowshan-clad like Ahriman’s dark blight.

Shapur and Andiyan stood close and grim,And drew their jowshans tight on trunk and limb.

Close to the Shah, to ward him from all harm,Stood faithful Gostaham with ready arm.

When brave Bahram Chubin surveyed the plain,And saw no Romans there in warlike train,

He paused in silence; then he gave commandThat tabiras on elephants should stand.

The world grew indigo beneath that cloud;The dust rose thick; the tabiras rang loud.

The elephant he rode was huge and white;The foe despaired to see that beast of might.

He drove his elephant toward the right,And called Shapur before the troops in sight:

“O knave, your secret note declared you mine;Why do you stand in Khosrow’s battle-line?

This is no custom known in Iran’s land:To pledge support, then raise a hostile hand.

You have betrayed yourself and now are ledTo offer up your body to the dead.”

Shapur replied, “You Div-like man, beware;A slave, you raise your head with haughty air.

Whose name and token did that letter hold,Of which you speak before these nobles bold?”

Then mighty Khosrow said aloud to him,“That letter matched his plot in purpose grim.

For that same letter, recompense is dueFrom me and all these noble chiefs to you.

In proper season I shall make it clear,And purge the doubt that stains your honor here.”

Bahram heard Khosrow’s words and knew the snare;Wrath seized his heart; his shame blazed to a flare.

In fury he would fight without his men,The usurper trusted sword and strength again.

Upon his elephant he charged the heartOf Khosrow’s center, breaking rank apart.

The Shah to Andiyan cried, “Lion of might,Make bows a storm and darken all his sight.

Pour arrows on that elephant like rain;Make springtime clouds of bows across the plain.”

Iran’s men, blessed by Fortune, strung their bows,And arrow-clouds flew thick against their foes.

The elephant’s trunk was riddled through and through;Its wounds had turned its hide to indigo-blue.

Bahram, down from his wounded beast, decreedA helm, and kingly arms, and a fresh steed.

The arrows showered on his horse like rain;His fury mounted on the battle plain.

The warrior left his horse, his sword in hand,And tucked his mail-skirt high, prepared to stand.

He raised his shield above his lowered head,And brought Doomsday among the ranks that fled.

The foe dropped bows of Chakh and fled in fear,While none would dare to meet or draw him near.

They brought a horse; he mounted, mad with rage,And stormed once more, a lion freed from cage.

He charged the Shah through ranks of iron might;Through dust and blood he broke them in the fight.

The royal standard vanished from the sight;Confusion spread through center, left, and right.

Then to the right he turned, his purpose clear,And left the noble warriors in his rear.

There Gordvi held command and challenged death,Ambitious, valiant, fierce in every breath.

When he beheld his brother in the fray,He strung his bow and barred the battle-way.

The blood-stained brothers clashed with all their might;They seemed entwined, so close they pressed the fight.

For long they strove, and neither yielded ground;The clash of kin and sword rang all around.

Then Bahram cried, “You villain, would you standTo spill your brother’s blood with your own hand?”

Gordvi replied, “Mottled wolf, have you heardThe weight of this remembered, piercing word:

A brother who is friend is heaven-sent;If turned to foe, let skin and vein be rent.

You hate the Maker in your wicked heart;From goodness and from honor you depart.

No man of honor seeks his brother’s death,Or fights to rob him of his living breath.”

Bahram, on hearing this, withdrew in rage,With burning wrath from that most bitter stage.

Gordvi, with face as dark as jowshan-scale,Went to the Shah, whose heart had feared to fail.

Khosrow received him lovingly and said,“May turning heaven reward your heart and head.”

The Shah then moved toward center, where his menWere reeling from the blow of war again.

He sent Shapur: “Help Mawsil in the fight;Stand back to back, and strive for Fortune bright.”

Meanwhile the king to Gostaham made plain:“If Rum’s legions should share the battle’s pain,

Then when Bahram is wounded or is crushed,They will lift heads to heaven, triumph-flushed.

I would not let the Romans grow too proud,Or boast above us openly and loud.

I have observed their prowess; now I knowThey are a winter flock before the snow.

With few companions I shall make my stand,And challenge Chubin there, hand against hand.

I trust in God, the Succorer in strife;I seek no other aid to guard my life.”

Then Gostaham said, “King, do not desireTo cast your precious life in battle-fire.

But if your purpose will not change or bend,Choose trusted comrades, ready to defend.”

Khosrow replied, “Your counsel has been good;Choose from the army those who well have stood.”

Then Gostaham selected from the throngFourteen Iranian riders, brave and strong.

He wrote himself first on the chosen roll,A warrior practiced, firm of hand and soul.

Then brave Shapur and Andiyan were named,With Bandvi, Gordvi, each in battle famed.

He chose Shirzil; Azargashasp he took,And Zangwi, whose great courage never shook.

Zangwi would face a lion without fear,Or raging elephant that ventured near.

Tukhar as well, a helper in the fight,A mortal foe to Yalan-sina’s might.

Then Khosrow, Farrokhzad, were named besideThose chosen men, whose worth was known and tried.

And Ashtad Pirooz, a warrior rare,Whose stroke made foemen flee in wild despair.

Ormozd and blessed Khorshid formed the pairBefore whom enemies were grass laid bare.

Their chief was Gostaham, in battle tried;Thus fourteen chosen warriors stood allied.

With them he hurried from the army’s post,To follow Khosrow where the risk was most.

Khosrow addressed those chiefs: “My noble men,Look now to God, and smile in heart again.

Take heart; no deed can happen where we areExcept as He decrees by hidden farr.

While this old sky above us still endures,His word alone decides what fate assures.

Better to perish fighting in the fieldThan let a slave command and make us yield.

You are my bodyguard within the fray;When I move out, I shall not pause or stay.”

They blessed him, hailed him king beneath the crown,And vowed that none would leave or let him down.

The monarch heard, and all his heart revived;With those brave warriors, hope and joy survived.

To Bahram Farrokh he entrusted allHis troops, then rode with fourteen at his call.

Then from a lookout sudden shouts arose;They told Bahram, “A troop comes from our foes.”

That watchful aspirant sprang on his steed,His kamand strapped, his sword already freed.

When from the height he saw their ordered line,He chose three warriors, battle-tried and fine.

He told Yalan-sina, “That proud foeHas proved himself a hardy man, I know.

Now I know none but he would dare to rideUpon this field of vengeance, pride to pride.

He comes attended by a troop so small,As if to face the dread nahang and fall.

No more than twenty riders come this way;Who any of them are, I cannot say.”

To Yalan-sina and Gashasp he spoke:“True valor cannot hide beneath a cloak.

Four of us will suffice, for Fortune’s handIs friendlier to me than Khosrow’s band.”

He gave the army to Janfuruz by name,Who loved night’s gloom more than the daylight’s flame.

Then he rode forth with those three wary men,A little storm of battle came again.

When Khosrow saw Bahram Chubin draw near,He told his comrades, “Let no heart know fear.

A troop has come, but this is my command:Leave vile Bahram to my gorz and hand.

Let me deal with his person in the fight;You face his chiefs and show Iran’s true might.

You fourteen stand against his chosen three;May none of you behold defeat or flee.”

But Niyatus and Roman soldiers rose,And from the field went up to watch the foes.

They climbed the heights and watched the troops below,And cried, “Why stake the crown on one man’s throw?

Why barter life for crown upon the plain,When many horses and brave troops remain?”

They raised their hands to heaven, all in dread,Believing Khosrow numbered with the dead.

Bahram charged forth, his chosen men beside,Khosrow’s companions trembled, terrified.

Yalan-sina and Izad Gashasp spedWith fierce Bahram, and cries of battle spread.

The comrades of Khosrow Parviz took flight;The wolf had fallen on a flock in fright.

Those nobles, full of wrath, were overthrown;They saw the fierce Div’s strength too clearly shown.

Yet Bandvi, Gordvi, and Gostaham stayedBeside the Shah when all the rest had strayed.

With prayer to God, hard-pressed within the fray,Khosrow at last turned back his steed away.

Izad Gashasp pressed hard upon his trail;The Shah felt doom descend and courage fail.

“My fate has come. What madness in my headMade me court Doomsday and approach the dead?

The folk have seen my back in open flight;How shall I bear this shame before their sight?”

Then Gostaham said, “Horsemen now draw near;Why should you fight alone and perish here?”

The Shah looked back and saw Bahram give chase,With three men bent on war, who kept his pace.

To save himself, he cut his charger freeOf its black bargostvan, and turned to flee.

Two riders lagged behind him on the track;His vengeful foe came howling at his back.

A narrow cave confronted him ahead;Behind came three fierce warriors, battle-bred.

The mountain blocked its end; no troops stood near,And no man raised a shield to guard his rear.

That glorious youth dismounted there to scaleThe stony heights on foot along the trail.

His path was blocked; his heart was sore with dread;He could not stay, could not advance ahead.

Bahram cried, “Trickster, now your heights descend;Your lofty rise has reached its downward end.

Why charge at me, your death upon your back?You bore it on your shoulders to attack.”

Then, trapped between the sword that pressed him hardAnd mountain rocks before, his passage barred,

The Shah cried, “Maker, high above time’s wheel,Reach out in this distress; hear my appeal.

With You, I need not raise a pleading cryTo Saturn or to Mercury on high.”

Before that prayer had wholly left his breath,Soroush appeared and saved him out of death.

Robed green, he rode upon a snow-white steed,And strength returned to Khosrow in his need.

He grasped the prince’s hand; for God Most HighCan work such wonders underneath the sky;

And bore him safely from the hostile band,Then set him down and freed his clasped right hand.

Khosrow, by turns both speaking and in tears,Asked, “What is your name?” amid his fears.

“Soroush. Now safe, be free of grief and fear;You shall be king; your sovereign days draw near.

Be holy in your conduct and your way.”He spoke, then vanished from the light of day.

No mortal eye had seen so strange a sign;Bahram beheld and called on power divine.

He said, “May courage never leave my breastWhile mortal warriors put my strength to test.

But now that powers unseen oppose my might,I mourn my clouded fortune in this fight.”

Then pain filled Bahram, sorrow bowed his head;He rued his deeds and all the strife he led.

Upon the mountainside Niyatus prayedThat God would keep Khosrow from harm and blade.

And Maryam tore her cheeks in grief and dreadFor her crowned husband, whom she feared was dead.

The troops filled mountain, valley, plain, and height;The Romans’ hearts were scorched by grief and fright.

Niyatus drew her golden litter near:“Sit here; the Shah is dead, or so I fear.”

But on the mountain’s farther side, awayFrom all the troops, Khosrow appeared that day.

The Roman ranks rejoiced to see him stand,And Maryam’s grief released its bitter hand.

He came to her and told what he had seen,Then spoke to Caesar’s daughter, still his queen:

“The righteous Judge has shown His justice bright;No sloth or cowardice compelled my flight.

For cowards show their weakness in the fight;I stood alone within that mountain height.

Alone within the cave, beset by care,I called upon the Maker in my prayer.

And He who orders all beneath the skiesRevealed His hidden purpose to my eyes.

Not Fereydoon, nor Tur, nor Salm of old,Nor Afrasiab dreamed what I behold.”

He told the chiefs, “The vision I beheldForetells my throne restored, the rebel felled.

Renew the battle; bear my name in mind,And press the foe, and leave all fear behind.”

E6.26

Khosrow Overthrows Bahram Chubin

Bahram’s arrow, Khosrow’s spear and Khosrow’s sword all fail in single combat. That night Bandvi sends a herald between the armies proclaiming pardon, and by dawn the tents across the plain stand empty. Bahram loads three thousand camels with his treasure and rides away.

36 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 2 times · in the full poem

The troops came down from high ground to the fight;The horsemen’s dust made black the face of light.

Bahram advanced his army to the fray;No light remained within the dust-dark day.

He said, “Whoever leads a fighting bandNeeds wit and courage, means at his command.

The brave have seen the darts my hands have thrown;My Pahlevan’s true nature they have known.

They chose me over kings; I shall bring shameUpon great Anooshirvan’s royal name.”

He rushed in reckless haste before the king,And strung his bow, prepared the shaft to fling.

He loosed an arrow at the Shah; it stayedCaught at his waist within the rich brocade.

The point hung slantwise; then a slave drew nearAnd pulled it free; the Shah charged with his spear.

The Shah then thrust his spear against his foe;It struck the belt where jowshan rings did show.

The spearhead snapped, yet still the rebel quailed;Though belt and jowshan held, his courage failed.

The Shah grew angry when his spear gave way;His sword struck on Bahram’s helm in the fray.

The sword-blade shattered with that mighty blow,And lodged within the helmet of his foe.

All those who saw and heard the iron ringRaised cries of praise around the fighting king.

The nobles followed where Khosrow had led,And shattered all the army ranged ahead.

Then Bandvi came before the Shah and cried,“O crown whose height outsoars the moon in pride,

These troops, like ants and locusts, now are spread,Across the sand and rocky desert bed.

No Shah should spill their blood in reckless strife,Or fight his slave to take that servant’s life.

Better that they appeal to us for graceThan fall or suffer wounds within this place.”

Khosrow replied, “I seek no vengeance hereOn those who turn from wrong; they need not fear.

I grant them grace; they shall not be cast down,But ornaments of glory for my crown.”

Night’s flag rose dark above the hills on high;Both armies drew back as the light passed by.

The sentries challenged, bells rang through the deep;The troops that night had little share of sleep.

Bandvi, resolved, went out across the plain,And chose a herald from the martial train.

He bade the clear-voiced herald mount and ride,And let his proclamation travel wide.

He rode between the armies, near the foe;The herald cried so every rank would know:

“O slaves who sinned and seek your fortune’s light,You worst offenders, famed for deeds in fight:

For God’s sake, he forgives each one of you,Your hidden crimes and those in public view.”

The sound went through the darkness, loud and clear;Each listener turned an attentive ear.

Bahram Chubin’s chiefs prepared for flight,And fastened on their belts that very night.

When sun rose up and day on hilltops shone,The tents across the plain were left alone.

Bahram knew nothing of the night’s events;Only his friends remained among the tents.

He passed among the tents and told his train,“Far better flight than Doomsday on this plain.”

Three thousand camels he called forth; they strainedBeneath his wealth, and all his camp contained.

They packed his clothes and carpets for the load,With gold and silver treasures for the road.

His ivory throne, gold torque and armlets bright,And crown were loaded ready for the flight.

When all was loaded, he prepared to go,And mounted, set to turn back from the foe.

E7.5

Khosrow Builds the Throne of Taqdis

The poet gives the throne’s history: made for Fereydoon by Jahan Barzin, enlarged by each king, given the heavens by Jamasp, broken by Iskandar, its fragments hoarded. Khosrow gathers eleven hundred and twenty masters and rebuilds it in two years, with a jeweled carpet of the world spread before it.

80 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 1 time · in the full poem

I speak of Taqdis, throne of kingly fame,Which Khosrow raised, as truthful tongues proclaim.

He set it in the hippodrome on high,A marvel built to captivate the eye.

Its oldest story reached Zahhak’s dark day,When that foul tyrant made the world obey.

When Fereydoon’s heroic hand had thrustThe Arab tyranny into the dust,

A noble dwelt upon Damavand’s height,Whom Fereydoon held high in royal sight.

Jahan Barzin was that favored man of might,Renowned within the realm, his name shone bright.

For that great Shah he made a jeweled throne,With gems like stars in splendor thickly sown.

When Fereydoon beheld the work complete,His joy rose high; he praised the artist’s feat.

He gave him silver coins, a rich reward:Full thirty thousand from the grateful lord.

A crown of gold, two earrings shining bright,Were added to the gifts in his delight.

He granted him by royal writ made sureBoth Sari and Amol to hold secure.

Those northern lands, granted by the monarch’s hand,Were like a paradise, so rich and grand.

To Iraj, youngest son, he gave commandOf all Iran, that ancient royal land.

He gave three treasures to his royal son,To add to Iran’s royal wealth, each one:

The jeweled throne; the ox-head gorz of might,Whose fame through every royal hall burned bright;

And third, that gem of multifaceted designs,The Seven Springs, wherein all splendor shines.

When Iraj passed away, those treasures remained,And Manuchehr rejoiced in what he gained.

Each crowned king added something to that seat,And made its wealth and majesty complete.

When it came down to fortunate Kay Khosrow,He raised its height and made its grandeur grow.

It passed in turn to Lohrasp’s royal hand,Then reached Goshtasb, the ruler of the land.

Goshtasb beheld it, moved by what was shown:“Great work,” he said, “must never stay unknown.”

He said to wise Jamasp, “O noble man,Add to this throne what lasting wisdom can.

Look everywhere; seek ways to win us praiseThat will endure beyond our mortal days.”

Jamasp beheld the throne; before his eyesLay wisdom’s key, a treasure for the wise.

He marked the ordered heavens’ every sign,And traced the courses of their vast design.

By order of the Shah, from Saturn’s height,He set each planet down to lunar light.

Thus through the years the throne passed evermore,Until it reached Iskandar’s royal store.

Each Shah who saw it added wealth and art,With gold and silver set in every part.

With ivory and shiz wood added too,Its splendor through the generations grew.

In ignorance, Iskandar broke the throne,And shattered all the splendor it had known.

Yet nobles hid and saved full many a shard,And handed fragments down with watchful guard.

So matters stood until Ardeshir reigned;The throne’s old name through passing years remained.

He found no trace; so, leaving that, he soughtAnother throne, for his own glory wrought.

He lived to taste the joys of high command,Then died and left it to the royal land.

His heirs received it, each in turn and state,Until Parviz assumed the throne of fate.

From every land he summoned noble men,And spoke about the ancient throne again.

He found among them fragments of that seat,And hastened, glad to make the work complete.

He brought the throne of Ardeshir in view,And gathered all Iran’s best craftsmen too.

So in that victorious monarch’s days,They built the throne again for royal praise.

From Rum and distant Chin the craftsmen sped,From Makran, Babylon, Iran were led.

One thousand and one hundred twenty came;They knew the throne’s construction and its frame.

Each master had beneath him thirty hands,From Rum, Babylon, all Iran’s wide lands.

The Shah commanded all to labor hard,And every pause and respite firmly barred.

In two years’ toil they raised the royal throne,And when it rose, high Fortune brightly shone.

The royal cubit marked its measured span;One hundred seventy its length then ran.

Its breadth, one hundred twenty cubits wide,A mountain made of treasure, craft, and pride.

Five common cubits made the royal measure;So vast the throne that bore the king’s great treasure.

Each morning through the month a carpet lay,A different splendor greeted every day.

One hundred forty thousand plates of goldBore turquoise figures, wondrous to behold.

The nails and fittings were of silver rare,Exact in weight and fashioned with great care.

Each weighed full sixty-six mithqals; each shoneWithin the framework of the finished throne.

When Aries’ sun lit up the garden’s face,Behind the throne the plain stretched out in space.

When sunlight raged in Leo’s sign, the seatWas turned, its back against the blazing heat.

In Tir, the month of festival and fruit,The throne faced gardens, flower, branch, and root.

It caught the fragrance of the fruit and flowers,And filled with sweetness all the royal hours.

In winter days of rain and bitter cold,No seated lord felt storm within that hold.

The arches, screened with hangings rich and wide,Had khazz and sable draped on every side.

Against the chill, the wardrobe keeper broughtA thousand globes of gold and silver wrought.

Each weighed five hundred mithqals, bright with flame,And glowed like coral in the royal frame.

One half lay in the fire to gather heat;The other faced the warriors at their seat.

The twelve celestial signs, the planets seven,The ordered motions of the vault of heaven,

The moon within whatever sign it crossed,And fixed and wandering lights through darkness tossed,

Were shown upon the throne to watching eyes,With all the measured turning of the skies.

One skilled in stars could judge how night had run,And how the heavens wheeled to bring the sun.

Among the towers some were made of gold;Their jeweled wealth was more than thought could hold.

No expert mind could count their full array,Or price the gems that blazed in bright display.

The cheapest cost some seventy gold coins’ weight;For some, seven hundred fell below their rate.

Full many crimson gems were beyond price,And lit the night like Venus clear as ice.

Three seats upon the throne were raised on high,Their jewels heaped in splendor to the eye.

Four golden steps, with gems inlaid between,Rose from one seat to the next in golden sheen.

They called the first the Ram’s Head, gleaming bright;There dehqans sat with those of lesser might.

The next, called Lapis, rose in splendor proud,Where mighty horsemen sat above the crowd.

The turquoise seat above was set apartFor loyal ministers of mind and heart.

A cloth of gold, with jeweled fringes fine,Displayed the heavens in its woven design.

Seven realms, with dehqans, filled its woven ground;And scenes of warriors’ battles there were found.

With forty-eight crowned kings the fabric shone,Their royal crowns depicted, throne by throne.

Through seven years a peerless man of ChinHad worked whole worlds into its golden sheen.

When Farvardin renewed the turning year,On Ormozd’s day he made his work appear.

They spread the cloth; with wine, a feast was made;Sarkash sang praise while tuneful strings were played.

Upon the cloth the nobles’ jewels were cast;They called it the great carpet, rich and vast.

E7.10

Shiruyeh Is Released

Khosrow’s planted letter makes Caesar distrust Guraz and withdraw. Suspected himself, Zad Farrokh turns the army, and the chiefs resolve to crown the imprisoned Shiruyeh. Tukhar storms the prison and brings him out, and that night the watchmen cry Qobad’s name while Khosrow sleeps beside Shirin.

155 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 11 times · in the full poem

The king dismissed the danger as but slight,And knew Guraz had stirred Rum’s lord to fight.

He summoned him, but Guraz would not come,For fear had struck his heart and made it numb.

He feared Khosrow, the court, the chiefs of state,And shunned the summons, wary of his fate.

The king of kings then sat among the great,With Iran’s leading chiefs, to hold debate.

He cleared his heart of care and searched aroundFor every craft by which relief was found.

At last a bright expedient filled his mind;He wrote to Guraz words designed to blind:

“The course you take has all my warm applause;I praised it to my court without a pause.

Your cunning arts have brought him to his fall;You have outwitted Caesar, schemes and all.

When this arrives, let sharpest wisdom wake;Wait till I move, then your own action take.

So Caesar, caught between forces, shall fail,And all his Roman purposes grow pale.

We shall lead Caesar captive in our chain,And take his Roman legions in our train.”

Then from his court he chose one man of skill,Resourceful, eloquent, and firm of will.

He said, “In secret let this letter go;Bear it as those who spy upon the foe.

Yet shape your road so Roman eyes may seeAnd question you on what your task may be.

Let them interrogate you on the road,Then carry you to Caesar’s own abode.

Do not reveal from where your travels start;Say, ‘I am but a servant skilled in art.

I have come far along a weary way;A letter meant for Guraz I convey.’

Bind it upon your right arm, firm and tight;If they remove it, then our plan is right.”

The courtier left the court by Khosrow’s will,And bound the letter to his arm with skill.

A Roman patrician saw him on the road,And seized him with the letter and its load.

They brought him straight to Caesar, dust on head,With pallid cheeks and lips like livid lead.

Then Caesar asked, “Where does Parviz remain?Speak truth, and make your answer clear and plain.”

The envoy stood bewildered in that place,And fear drew down the features of his face.

Then Caesar said, “Search him, this man of ill,With wicked speech and thoughts and evil will.”

Shrewd men searched all his garments, arm, and hand,And found the letter tied beneath its band.

They sought a learned man to read the scroll,Whose Pahlavi would yield its meaning whole.

The scribe read out the letter, word by word;Like pitch grew Caesar’s face at what he heard.

Within his heart he spoke in deep disdain:“Guraz has drawn us toward a deadly chain.

The king of kings commands so vast a force:Three hundred thousand men of foot and horse.

His elephants for war exceed all count;No man can tell their number or amount.

Guraz would cast me in the monarch’s net;May darkness shroud the end that waits him yet.”

He left his purpose, wheeled his army round,And turned from conquest on Iranian ground.

When Guraz learned that Caesar had withdrawnTo Rum, his cheek grew pale, all gladness gone.

He picked a rider from his troops, then wroteWith sighs, and sorrow rising in his throat:

“Why is great Caesar now displeased and cold?Why leave Iran and cast me from your fold?

The Shah knows I have brought this state of pain;His heart will turn to hatred and disdain.”

When Caesar read the letter Guraz sent,He chose a noble, who as envoy went.

He sent him swiftly with this sharp reply:“God freed you from such need; then tell me why:

Would you make desolate my crown and reign,And burn my troops with fire for your own gain?

Your former letter, wretch, was meant to throwMy wealth to ruin, lay my legions low.

Its purpose was to hand me over boundTo Khosrow Parviz on Iranian ground.

May greatness never enter at your door;May Fortune keep you wretched evermore.

You should have known, while kings of Kayan reign,Iranians will not choose a foreign chain.

No Caesar-born, however wise or great,Would find Iranians welcoming his state.”

Guraz sent many pleas toward Caesar’s throne,But Caesar’s ear was barred as if by stone.

Then Khosrow chose an envoy from his side,A learned counselor, eloquent and tried.

He sent to Guraz words of cold disdain:“You worthless villain, steeped in guilt and stain.

I summoned you to court time after time,But you have turned from loyalty to crime.

The troops beside you, through each month and year,Like Ormozd, have sustained your fortunes here,

All back great Caesar both in heart and will,And hide their inward treason, seeming still.

Send me those men who turn from my command,Who plot rebellion in your armed band.”

When this arrived, the wary chieftain thought,And weighed the danger that the letter brought.

He chose twelve thousand horsemen, brave and bold,And spoke to loosen fear’s increasing hold:

“Be one in heart and let no tongue betray;Let no man’s words divide you on the way.

Remain awhile upon this river’s side,And do not hurry on with hasty stride.

If tongue and heart are joined in single will,You may uproot a mountain through that skill.”

The army moved ahead in ordered train,Toward Khorra-e-Ardeshir’s broad plain.

Beside the Tigris stream they formed in rank,And pitched their rebel tents upon the bank.

The king refused to look upon their face,But sent forth Zad Farrokh to state his case.

He ordered him to say, “Till now you stoodBeside the Shah and served him as you should.

Why did you let great Caesar cross our bound,And bring invading armies onto our ground?

Who has transgressed the road of God and right,And left the path of duty for the night?”

At Khosrow’s message, edged with royal dread,The soldiers’ faces darkened as it spread.

None dared to answer; all remained in pain,Pale-faced and silent by the river plain.

The messenger served Guraz in his heart,Yet hid that loyalty with subtle art.

He went in private to the leaders’ side,And lit their darkened thoughts where fears abide.

“Fear not, O chiefs; let heart and tongue combine;The Shah has found no open fault or sign.

Be one in heart and tongue; let none point outWhich man among you stands beneath a doubt.

If one is blamed, one tent shall cover all;We stand as one, whatever may befall.”

The chiefs all heard him, understood his aim,And shaped their answer in the selfsame frame.

Then Zad Farrokh returned with flying speed,And told the Shah their answer as agreed.

The Shah said, “Go again to them and say:‘Which man among you chose betrayal’s way?

Whom has ill-fated Caesar made his ownWith treasure, arms, with royal crown and throne?

That man has sinned against our royal name,And turned from crown and throne to lasting shame.

Send all such disaffected men to me,Or every rebel shall my anger see.

If not, the dungeon and the gibbet wait,For those who leave obedience to the state.’”

Then Zad Farrokh conveyed the royal threat;Old griefs awoke, and anger fed regret.

None dared to speak; they mourned in silence deep,Their minds awake, though tongues were sunk in sleep.

Then Zad Farrokh spoke out with shameless breath:“Why fear the Shah and all his threats of death?

Among these young and valiant troops, I findNo weakling and no coward left behind.

His troops are scattered through the world afar;At court no chief upholds his royal star.

Despise my words; fear none of my own threats;Curse me and curse the Shah without regrets.”

They heard and knew the king’s good Fortune fled;Their lips shaped curses, wrath within them spread.

Then Zad Farrokh returned and spoke his mind:“The troops stand joined, of one accord and kind.

If sent again, I fear for my own life;Their hearts are armed with mutiny and strife.”

Khosrow perceived, “This knave will cause a floodOf tears and battle, and a waste of blood.”

He feared the envoy’s brother, held his tongue,And hid the truth, though bitter thoughts had stung.

For Rostam had revolted in that land,With ten full thousand swordsmen at command.

He kept Zad Farrokh’s cause close to his heart,And drew his own men to the rebels’ part.

Now Zad Farrokh knew well the Shah had guessedWhose hand had stirred the army to unrest.

So when the malcontent had left the hall,He dared not face the Shah again at all.

He stayed outside and worked upon the crowd,And spoke to men in whispers and aloud.

He won them one by one, till every cordOf loyalty was severed from their lord.

He told them all; they answered with one voice:“Another Shah must be the nation’s choice.

This king has lost the farr, the royal way,The Fortune that once brightened every day.”

With Zad Farrokh there was an ancient man,Skilled in affairs and careful in his plan.

He said, “The Shah imputes the army’s faultTo you; his hidden anger will not halt.

Until you find a king to take the crown,Let no more quarrels tear this country down.

This thriving land will fall to ruin and woe;Iran, like Niran, grief and strife will know.

Look through his sons for modesty and grace,And choose the one who gives no quarrel place.

Enthrone him, give him honor and the crown,And over him let gold be showered down.

Since shrewd Shiruyeh, eldest-born, lies bound,No other prince need anywhere be found.”

They all agreed; within a few short daysTukhar’s troops marched on through the dusty haze.

His coming made their daunting tasks seem light,And gave them hope to carry through their fight.

Then Zad Farrokh went out to Tukhar’s side,With many troops in martial ranks allied.

They met, and much discourse between them passed,In public and in private, first and last.

Then Zad Farrokh let loose his tongue and toldThe wrongs Khosrow had done in days grown cold.

He said, “The troops, through counsel and through might,Will set a king upon the throne outright.”

The sepahbod replied, “I shun all talk;In war I block each path my foes would walk.

This king, when young, was loved by every chief,By every Pahlevan beyond belief.

When such a man’s bright day is turned to night,May crown and throne be kept from every sight.

The fatal hour began when he turned unjust,And loved the crimes of servants he would trust.”

When Zad Farrokh heard all that Tukhar said,He chose him from the chiefs; to him he pled:

“We go to prison, where the luckless wait,And bear Shiruyeh, the brave prince, through the gate.

Six thousand proven horsemen, with their chief,Keep watch upon the captives in their grief.”

Tukhar replied, “We held that captain light,That guardian with all his troops of might.

If Khosrow rises once more to command,No Pahlevan will live in Iran’s land.

The gibbet, bonds, and dungeon wait for all;No man shall flee the kingdom’s coming fall.”

He spoke and urged his charger toward the fight,Like Azargashasp in his fiery might.

He led his forces forward in array;The captain met him fiercely on the way.

Those famous troops were shattered in the fray,The army’s captain met his death that day.

The royal forces scattered in that strife;The day grew dark; the king’s cause lost its life.

In battle dress, through battle’s opened way,He entered that cramped prison straightaway.

He called exalted Shiruyeh from the cell;The prince replied, and knew his purpose well.

At Tukhar’s shining face, his sorrow spread;His heart swelled up with grief and aching dread.

Yet still he wept: “Where is Parviz today?To free us is no task for you, I say.”

Tukhar replied, “Do not deny our will,Or count yourself apart, resisting still.

If one in sixteen sons should fail our need,Still fifteen brothers wait of royal seed.

Each one is fit for sovereignty and crown;Each one would grace the throne of high renown.”

Shiruyeh, still bewildered, wept, then passedBeyond the prison door that held him fast.

Meanwhile, Zad Farrokh barred the royal gate,And kept all news from Khosrow until late.

He stood as chamberlain before the court,And barred all access, cutting off report.

As daylight faded, each lord sought his bed;He summoned those by whom the watch was led.

He said, “Tonight proclaim a different word;Let not last night’s old name again be heard.

Through every watch cry out Qobad alone;Let that new title through the night be known!”

They answered: “Khosrow’s name shall fade tonight;Qobad shall ring till dawn brings back the light!”

When night had drawn about its pitch-black cloak,From town and market one great clamor broke:

“Forever live Qobad, of noble strain;May every province glorify his reign.”

Khosrow lay sleeping, Shirin by his side;She heard the watchmen’s cry and shook inside.

She cried, “O Shah, what shall we do tonight?What act remains to meet this sudden plight?”

Her voice awoke the Shah; he stirred in pain,And heard her anxious words with sharp disdain.

He said, “Moon-face, why rouse me from my sleep?”She said, “The watchmen cry from every keep.”

He paled, and said, “Three watches now have fled;Recall the words the star-reader once said.

I named him so in secret; all the courtCalled him Shiruyeh, by the world’s report.

This steward calls him Qobad in the night;We must make ready for a secret flight.

To Chin, or Machin, Makran we may go,And pass by guile beyond our watchful foe.

Then from the Faghfoor I shall seek a force,And ask the lord of Chin to aid our course.”

But darkened Fortune made his counsel vain;His guile could find no path beyond his pain.

Then Shirin said, “The destined hour is here;Our foes have mastered all our guile, I fear.

Now use your wisdom; on no foe rely;At dawn our enemies will draw close by.”

He called for jowshan, helm of Roman craft,Two Indian swords, and shaft on feathered shaft.

His quiver and his golden shield were brought,With one brave servant, fearless when he fought.

He reached the garden in the dark of night,When waking crows foretold the morning light.

No room among the trees for a throne was found;His shield hung from a branch above the ground.

On saffron and narcissus sat the king;Beneath his knee he laid his sword’s cold sting.

E8.2

Khosrow Parviz Answers Shiruyeh

Khosrow answers every charge: his flight from Hormizd, his vengeance on Bandvi and Gostaham, the comfort of his sons’ prison, the sealed horoscope, his treasuries, the frontier armies, his gifts to Caesar, the worthlessness of the Cross. Then he blesses the world, names the dead kings, and says farewell.

222 couplets · in the full poem

“Now I will make full answer; mark it well,Repeat my words wherever people dwell.

They shall remain my witness when I die,A truthful record none may set awry.

Then you will know, when I unfold my pain,That all my treasures came through toil and strain.

You first have spoken of my father’s days,Of Hormizd’s anger and his bitter ways.

My father’s wrath against us rose through lies,By slanderers’ tongues that darkened royal eyes.

When I perceived the purpose of his thought,By night I fled the roads his servants sought.

I sought a road of flight and slipped away,Nor let the trap of trouble make me stay.

His hostile purpose was no fault of mine;Escape alone could foil his dark design.

When tidings of my father’s harm were heard,I left Barda upon that grievous word.

That knave Bahram Chubin with his trainOpposed me fiercely on the battle plain.

I fled from him upon the day of fight,Lest I should fall within his grasp and might.

But afterward I came with troops afield,And fought him with the force I chose to wield.

Not once alone did we contend in strife;The world looked on as each fought for his life.

By God’s command, whose blessings never cease,Who guides through good and ill, through war and peace,

Iran and Turan came to peace again,And all of Bahram’s schemes proved fruitless then.

Released from war, I turned at once to takeThe vengeance owed for my slain father’s sake.

Bandvi and Gostaham, my mother’s brothers,Were peerless men, surpassing many others.

They risked their lives for me through love and kin,And yet my father’s blood cried out within.

His murder left me grieving and dismayed;I would not let my vengeance be delayed.

I struck off Bandvi’s hand and foot that day,For he had helped to sweep my sire away.

And Gostaham, who sought a distant land,Was suddenly struck down at my command.

Those murderers’ lives and purposes were crossed;Their aims were broken, and their hopes were lost.

Next, as to what you said of your own case,Your narrow bonds, your prison, and disgrace,

I kept my sons apart from evil ways,Lest harm recoil upon their future days.

You were not bound in hardship or in pain,Nor made to fear disgrace or hurtful strain.

No scorn was meant; my treasury was yours,As former Shahs had opened royal stores.

I acted by precedent, not in pride,Nor cast ancestral custom there aside.

The chase, the harp, the polo field, the feast,All princely sports were yours, from most to least.

You had your hawks and cheetahs, gems and gold,And all delights a princely house could hold.

Your so-called prison was a palace bright,Where you passed days in pleasure and delight.

I feared you, too, for what the star-readers said,Their dark prediction burning in my head.

Yet now the very harm I feared appears,And all their words have ripened into tears.

I never parted with the starry scrollThat warned of danger to the crown and soul.

I sealed it, then to Shirin gave the same,To keep the secret of your star and name.

When thirty-six years of my reign had passed,Amid those happy days that could not last—

You surely keep this matter still in mind,Though time has left those distant days behind—

From distant Hind a letter reached your hand;I too had read it, and I understand.

The Raja sent us with that letter’s graceFine jewels, cloth, and treasures from each place,

An Indian sword, an elephant snow-white,And all that I could wish for my delight.

With that keen sword came cloth of golden weave,And polished gems whose worth none could conceive.

The letter sent to you on silk then boreThe script of Hind, whose words I would explore.

When I beheld the Indian script displayed,I called an Indian scribe to give me aid.

He read the Raja’s words, then shook his head,And shed his tears upon the words he read.

It said, ‘Live joyfully, for you are worthBoth joy and realm and mastery on earth.

In Azar’s month, when Dey’s day comes around,You shall become world-ruler, and be crowned.

Your sire will reign for thirty-eight full years;Then stars will set your crown above your peers.

Your fortunate days will shine with royal light,A crown of greatness on your head set bright.’

These words have been fulfilled to me today,Yet love should not be washed from hearts away.

I knew that fortune had decreed for youA throne made bright while mine was darkened too.

I knew my portion would be grief and care,My shining day would darken to despair.

Compassion, faith, and kinship held their part;Through love, that letter never chilled my heart.

I read it, pondering each warning deep,Then gave the letter to Shirin to keep.

In Shirin’s keeping lie the letter sealed,And horoscope that once your fate revealed.

No great or small man knows of either one;The secret has been hidden from the sun.

If you would see them, ask, and you shall learn;Then judge what thoughts within your heart may turn.

I think that seeing it will make you rue,And seek some cure for what you came to do.

You spoke of bonds, imprisonment, and pain,And how we injured others in our reign.

That is the rule of kings from former days;Ask learned Mobadan of the old ways.

If you do not know, ask what they advise;Their answer will stand clear before your eyes:

‘For him who is God’s enemy, this lifeIs evil, darkened by his wicked strife.’

Those in our prison were mere Divs in form,Whose deeds against the just became a storm.

Bloodshed and cruelty were never mine;I never made oppression kingship’s sign.

I kept the wicked caged, because their spiteHad wrought such harm as no man counted slight.

But now I hear that you have freed these men,Worse than fierce dragons loosed from pit and den.

For this you sin alike in word and deed,Before the God whose judgment all must heed.

Now you are king, be prudent in your will;Consult the wise if you lack royal skill.

Spare not the man from whom afflictions flow,Though hopes of treasure from his service grow.

What better check than prison to restrainThe man who brings the world but grief and pain?

Your charge about my wealth reveals you blindTo royal judgment and a prudent mind.

We sought but toll and tribute men could pay,From those with strength to bear that charge each day.

Men called them foes, born of an evil breed,The wicked offspring of Ahriman’s seed.

But since we kept the thought of God in view,We passed those words by, giving them no due.

From Him I had the crown and royal state;The price was dear, as all men know my fate.

The Maker, righteous Judge of king and slave,Has willed this change and darkened what He gave.

In all this world His will is paramount;We seek no more when He has closed account.

We sought to please our Judge through every toil,Yet could not flee the share of fate’s recoil.

When He shall question me, I will tell all;His judgment weighs both rise and final fall.

That Questioner is wiser far than you,And judges what is false and what is true.

Those miscreants who stand before you nowAre neither friends nor faithful to their vow.

What they say now of me, they will say tooOf you before your foes when time is due.

They are the slaves of silver and of gold;No helper will you find in such a fold.

Through them your heart is stained; yet let us clearThe guilt with which you charge your father here.

These words lie far beyond your mind’s poor reach;No man shall profit from such evil speech.

I speak for those in future days who readThis Pahlavi account of word and deed.

It shall remain a record, standing fast,A banner of wise counsel at the mast.

It shall console each searching, thoughtful mind,And teach our policy to humankind.

After our death, whoever reads this pageWill know the rule that governed king and sage.

From Bartas and from Chin troops I conveyed,And sepahbods throughout the realm arrayed.

I struck my foes through mountain, plain, and land,Till none against me dared arise and stand.

When they were scattered, treasure filled each store;The whole land labored and produced still more.

So many gems they drew from ocean’s floor,The sailors wearied with the work they bore.

Plain, sea, and mountain all my will obeyed;Their wealth was daily to my treasury paid.

When all the silver in our vaults ran dry,New minted gold renewed the whole supply.

There precious stones and royal jewels lay,With clothes and gear of war in bright array.

When I had worn the crown for twenty-six years,Our treasuries were rich beyond all fears.

I struck new silver coins and turned to joy,To merriment no sorrow could destroy.

That year, I counted tribute, reckoned all;A hundred thousand bags of coin met the call.

Each bag held twelve full thousand coins of gold;Their royal worth was more than could be told.

Besides came wealth from India’s royal hand,From Rum and every distant foreign land.

Besides came tribute from each province wide,And gifts from lords and rulers on each side.

Our court received their offerings at New Year,And Mehr brought gifts when autumn days drew near.

They brought fine horses and fair-faced slaves,And arms in shining heaps like running waves.

Cuirasses, helmets, gorzes, blades well-wrought,As tribute to our palace door were brought.

Musk, camphor, sable, costly furs they bore,Black, white, and tawny pelts piled on the floor.

Our subjects loaded beasts with costly freight,And hastened to our royal palace gate.

None held back tribute or refused to serve;Their payments did not falter, fail, or swerve.

We built this guarded hoard through toil and care,Reserved for war and hardships we might bear.

Beside the hoards Arus and Khazra layThis wealth, reserved against an evil day.

We long debated what its name should be,And called it Bad Awar by royal decree.

Thus in the twenty-sixth year of my crown,High Heaven smiled and set my foes all down,

Until the thirty-eighth full year had come;My chiefs were safe, my enemies struck dumb.

Now I have heard the orders you have made;Through them, the world is troubled and dismayed.

The world, deprived of pleasure, must be mute;Your reign will fill the earth with bitter fruit.

You will make earth calamitous and bare,With suffering and ruin everywhere.

Moreover, those destructive men you found,Whose counsel lights your darkness all around,

Will cast your throne away and leave no trace,And rob your kingship of its joy and grace.

Were there one sage beside you in your hall,To light your darkened mind before its fall,

You would not err in giving wealth away;The worthy would receive it day by day.

My son, your days are few, your wisdom slight;Anxiety will rob your soul of light.

Know this: our treasures are your royal stay;The chance remains within your grasp today.

These treasures are the sinews of the crown;A king without them soon is beaten down.

A pauper Shah will rule unjustly still,And empty hands lack strength for royal will.

Without the means to give, a king will fall,Declared a fraud and not a Shah by all.

Should riches reach your foes at your command,They are like idols in a Brahman’s hand.

Then worshippers will turn aside from God,And spurn your fame beneath dishonor’s rod.

If you are treasureless, no army stays;Your subjects will not hail you with their praise.

The dog begs bread; but sate his appetite,And he may turn against you with a bite.

Again, you blamed my battle plans and saidI stationed troops along each road ahead.

You blame through ignorance, not knowing gainFrom loss, nor how kings guard the open plain.

Through toil I gathered treasure for the crown,Took foreign cities, fought and struck foes down,

That we might sit in peace, without alarm,Upon the pleasant throne secure from harm.

I set my horsemen on each frontier line,To guard the realm and keep its borders mine.

When you recall the troops from every side,The foe will see the roads stand open wide.

Iran is like a garden in the spring,Where happy blossoms never fail to cling.

It bears pomegranate, quince, and flowers bright,And apple branches fragrant with delight.

But when that orchard stands with none to tend,Its fragrant roots and branches meet their end.

The quince and pomegranate boughs they break;The fragrant herbs up by their roots they take.

Iran’s stout wall is army, arms, and gear;Along its fence, each thorn a sharpened spear.

If wantonly you tear its garden wall,The garden’s bloom will perish, root and all.

What then divides that garden from the plain,The sea or upland, when no walls remain?

Cast not its wall down through a rash mistake,Or hearts and backs throughout Iran will break.

Then raid and ravage, horsemen’s battle-cry,And drawn-out vengeance follow, rising high.

Expose not wives and children, realm and landTo ruin by your young and reckless hand.

Let but one such year pass, and sages allWill name you fool for that destructive fall.

Now I have heard you give high place and rankTo men unworthy, men whose hearts are blank.

Know this: wise Anooshirvan, Qobad’s son,Set down this counsel on what should be done:

Who gives his weapons to a hostile handGives up his life to slaughter in the land.

When he would claim those arms again for fight,His foe will turn them on him in his might.

As for the message Caesar sent to you,You called me self-willed, wavering, untrue.

You do not know the facts, nor judge them right;Some counselor has darkened all your sight.

You praise his faith, and blame my faithless way;What faith or faithlessness is, can you say?

Receive my answer, you of little wit,Yet hear the right in what I now submit.

You are the plaintiff and the witness too,A thing no man of wisdom ought to do.

When Caesar cast the dust of grief away,He chose me as his son-in-law that day.

For valor’s sake he joined his house to mine,And placed his kin within my royal line.

Who does not walk with evil as his guideKnows Bahram first began that violent tide.

The Iranians took his side to strike me down,And raised their hands once more against my crown.

No Roman force could make that army yield;Can drifting sand contest a mountain’s field?

But God granted His aid upon that day,And all the world’s great armies seemed as clay.

The Iranians know these matters as they stood;Ask them and judge the truth, as wise men should.

As for myself, I gave him every goodAnd served Niyatus kindly as I could.

Upon the day of battle I showed grace,And dealt with him in honor face to face.

I reckoned his reward upon that day;Zad Farrokh too can witness what I say.

Look not upon the world with boyish eyes;Let Gashasp tell you where the record lies.

He was our treasurer and kept the store;Our minister, the priest, can tell you more.

I gave the Roman legions from my hoardA hundred thousand bags of coin as reward.

A thousand ruby jewels to him I sent,Red stones for earrings, rich in ornament.

Each jewel weighed a thousand mithqals then,By treasury weight accounted among men.

I gave a thousand robes of Chin, arrayedWith gems and gold upon their rich brocade.

A hundred thousand silver coins would payFor each, so those who valued gems would say.

I gave a hundred flawless pearls, a giftWhose value jewelers alone could sift.

Each pearl was worth full thirty thousand more,In silver coins by every jeweler’s score.

I sent one hundred noble steeds beside,Selected from my stables in their pride.

Fifty were saddled, fifty choice and fleet,Each fit to race where desert pathways meet.

They wore brocade and matched the wind in pace;I sent them all to Caesar with my grace.

As for the Cross of Christ within my store,That ancient wood you asked about before,

It brought no loss or gain to me at all;Some Christian’s talk has held your mind in thrall.

I marveled that great Caesar, strong and wise,With priests and learned men before his eyes,

With philosophers and counselors of fame,Should call one executed God by name.

As for that dry and rotten piece of wood,If it were God, Yazdan Himself there stood

Within our treasury, where it would not stay,But vanish like Christ from the world away.

Again, you said: ‘Before Yazdan confess;Amend your conduct, and your wrongs redress.’

My answer is: may Qobad’s hands decline,His feet and tongue and lips all waste and pine.

It was God who placed the crown upon my head;I took His gift and wore it till it fled.

Since He required the crown, I gave it back;What more remains upon this bitter track?

To Him I will confess, not to a childWho cannot judge what ruin has defiled.

All that God ordains is welcome to my soul,Though grief and misery have claimed their toll.

For thirty-eight full years I held the land;No king among all kings matched my command.

He who bestowed the world can grant it twice,And lays on me no debt, and asks no price.

I will pronounce a blessing on the realm:May wise men ever guide the turning helm.

While God remains our helper and our aid,No curse against us need by men be made.

Say to that foolish, rash, impetuous boy:‘The luster of our face has lost its joy.

Farewell forever. Now my words shall findTheir home among the sages of mankind.’

And as for you, illustrious envoys both,Eloquent Iranians, faithful to your oath,

To both of you I also bid farewell;Repeat only the words you heard me tell.

I give my blessing to the world at large,A passing thing that none may keep in charge.

All born of mothers die, however great;Kay Khosrow and Kay Qobad shared that fate.

Hushang, Jamshid, and Tahmuras are dead,Though fear and hope once gathered round each head.

And all whom Div and beast acknowledged diedWhen time extinguished all their strength and pride.

Blessed Fereydoon, who brought Zahhak to harm,And checked the Arab tyrant’s cruel arm,

Escaped not fate, though brave in heart and hand;No valor made his mortal lifespan stand.

So Arash died, whose shaft flew far from sight,Its flight by farsangs measured in its might.

So Gharan, lion-catcher, paid death’s debt;So Kay Qobad’s bright day of kingship set.

From Alborz came a man of strength and worth,Who won the rule of all the folk on earth.

He built a world-famed house of crystal bright,With pearl and jeweled gates of gleaming light.

So Siavash, famed lion, passed from sight,Who slew two tigers in his youthful might.

He built Gangdezh with toil, yet did not gainEnduring treasure from that work or pain.

Where Rostam, Zal, and Esfandiyar of fame,Whose memories are monuments of name?

Where Gudarz and his seventy chosen sons,Those lions of the fray, those mounted ones?

Where Shah Goshtasb, who chose the Good Faith’s light,And made its holy farr renew its might?

Where now Jamasp, who read the heavens clear,Whose wisdom outshone sunlight in its sphere?

Gone are the wise and great, the men of old;Gone are the warriors, valorous and bold.

All left the palace, hall, and riding-ground;Their pride is dust, their fame a passing sound.

My son’s throne too shall pass when I am gone;His Fortune from that seat shall hasten on.

When comes the angel, I shall make this plea:‘Take gently now this parting soul from me.’

Repentance shall make bright the heart within;Our harmlessness be armor for our skin.

When we must cross the Chinvat Bridge one day,May flowers lie beneath our feet, we pray.

This is the message that I leave behind:My words are for the world, for all mankind.

Farewell to you; may gladness with you stay,And cast all evil thoughts of me away.”

Ashtad and Kharrad Barzin heard with grief,And beat their heads before the fallen chief.

They rued the words that they themselves had said,And struck their cheeks, with dust upon each head.

They left in tears; Shiruyeh heard each word,The Shah’s full message, just as they had heard.

E8.5

The Death of Khosrow Parviz

The conspirators frighten Shiruyeh into consent, and Zad Farrokh hires a nameless wretch for a bag of gold. Khosrow calls for water, musk and clean robes, prays over the barsom, confesses his faults, and covers his head; the man stabs him. Fifteen imprisoned brothers are killed the same day.

50 couplets · Khosrow Parviz named 5 times · in the full poem

The men who had conspired against his reignCame to the royal court, a sullen train.

They stood before Qobad, grim men of guile,And pressed their dark design with speech of bile:

“We said before, and now repeat our claim:Your heart’s concern and ours are not the same.

Two kings now share a single royal seat:One holds the throne, and one lies at his feet.

If love should grow between the son and sire,Your servants’ heads will answer to their ire.

This cannot be; of such things speak no more.”At this, the Shah grew frightened to the core.

He shook with fear, for there within their handHe was a slave, though lord of crown and land.

He said, “None but a man of evil nameWould draw Shiruyeh to this snare of shame.

Go home, take counsel, find a man who mayIn secret take this grievous care away.”

The Shah’s ill-wishers sought a murderer then,To kill by stealth the greatest one of men.

But none had courage for that bloody deed,Or dared to make the royal Khosrow bleed.

Who dared to hang a mountain round his neck?The very thought would hold such men in check.

They found a wretch, blue-eyed and pale of face;Dust on his feet proclaimed his wretched case.

His body gaunt and hairy, lips dark blue,His head was bare, and hunger gnawed him through.

No man of high or low rank knew his name;May Paradise deny his soul all claim.

For his slain father’s blood, and gold beside,He pledged to pierce the monarch in his pride.

“This task is mine,” he said. “Give ample fare;Then this proud quarry falls within my snare.”

Zad Farrokh said, “Go, if your strength is true;Speak now no more of what you mean to do.

I have a bag of gold to pay your fee,And I shall hold you as a son to me.”

He gave the man a khanjar keen and bright;The murderer hurried to the captive’s sight.

He came upon the king in his retreat,And saw the fetters binding both his feet.

Khosrow Parviz now trembled, full of dread,And down his cheeks the bitter tears were shed.

He cried, “What name is yours, you wretch? Now speak;Your mother’s tears must flow upon her cheek.”

The man replied, “Mehr Ormozd is my name;Without a friend or fellow here I came.”

Khosrow replied, “My final hour I see;The basest hand has come to murder me.

That face is not a man’s; no heart draws nearTo seek your love or hold your friendship dear.”

He bade the boy who waited at his side,“Bring basin, water, musk, and robes,” he cried.

“Bring abir, too, and garments fresh and clean.”The boy was blind to what these words might mean.

The little servant hastened on his way,And brought the golden basin straightaway.

He brought the robes, with ewer, water too;The Shah urged haste in all he had to do.

He held the barsom twigs, took baj in prayer,And cleansed his soul of worldly grief and care.

He donned the robes and murmured, breath by breath,Confession for his faults before his death.

He drew a new cloth closely round his head,That he might not behold the face of dread.

Then Mehr Ormozd, with khanjar drawn to slay,Shut fast the door and pulled the robe away.

He plunged the blade into the monarch’s waist;The king expired, in death’s cold arms embraced.

Such is the working of the whirling sphere,Whose secret no created eye sees clear.

The sage and braggart judge its whole domainAnd find that all its works are void and vain.

Be rich, or trapped in evil case and pain,You will not in this fleeting world remain.

Choose harmlessness and truth in all your ways,If you would win through justice honest praise.

When roads and markets rang with cries of woe,“Khosrow Parviz is slain by treachery’s blow,”

His foes went to the prison-house of grief,Where fifteen sons were bound without relief.

They killed the guiltless prisoners that day;The Shah’s good Fortune now had turned away.

Shiruyeh, though now crowned, dared not complain,But hid the tears he struggled to restrain.

He wept awhile; then twenty guards would goTo shield their wives and children from the foe.

So fell that mighty reign beyond recall:Force, majesty, and manhood, power, all.

No king of kings had held such power before,Nor tales of ancient glory told of more.

He now was equal to the man who ownsNo ample bread, no land, no palace stones.

The wise hold cheap the man who feels secureAgainst the dragon, certain to endure.

This world, a fierce nahang with tooth and claw,Gnaws every prey it seizes in its maw.

The work of Khosrow Parviz now is past;His hoards, his throne, his famed troops could not last.

Family

Parents: Hormizd (son of Anooshirvan), Sister of Bandvi and Gostaham
Spouses: Maryam, Shirin
Children: Shiruyeh

Volume III · Plate IThe Sasanian Successionthirty-one reigns · D7–E10

Volume III · Plate VIIThe House of GoshnaspBahram Chubin and his kin · E5–E6

Volume III · Plate VIIIThe House of Khosrow ParvizE5 to E9

On the maps

Story maps that show Khosrow Parviz or tell a part of the story that names Khosrow Parviz.

E6.4–E6.14Bahram Chubin’s Rebellion and Khosrow Parviz’s Flight to Rum

E6.21–E6.28Khosrow’s Return with Roman Aid and the Fall of Bahram Chubin

E6.32–E6.38Bahram Chubin among the Turks: Exile and Death

E6.40–E6.47Gurdiyeh's Flight from Marv

E7.5–E7.8The Zenith of Khosrow Parviz: Madain and the Throne of Taqdis

E8.1–E8.5Shiruyeh’s Coup and the Death of Khosrow Parviz

Where he appears

Named mentions by book, from the Universe Registry, the index behind this site. Titles and epithets are not counted.

E5Hormizd, Son of Anooshirvan17 E6Khosrow Parviz181 E7The Story of Khosrow Parviz and Shirin40 E8Shiruyeh’s Coup and the End of the Great Reign22 E9The Years of Chaos11 E10Yazdegard2

More in the Glossary, all the characters and the Art.

Khosrow Parvizخسرو پرویز

How we draw Khosrow Parviz

In the pictures

His story, in the poem’s own sections

Bahram’s Letter and Khosrow’s Flight🪙☠️👦🏃

Khosrow Parviz Takes the Throne👑🪑💎⚖️

Khosrow Flees the Night Attack🌃⚔️🌉💥

Caesar Sends Aid and a Bride🪖💰👸💍

Soroush Saves Khosrow from Bahram👑⛰️🙏✨

Khosrow Overthrows Bahram Chubin📣🕊️🏕️🐪

Khosrow Builds the Throne of Taqdis👑🪑⚒️💎

Shiruyeh Is Released👥👦🔓📣

Khosrow Parviz Answers Shiruyeh👑⛓️📜👨‍👦

The Death of Khosrow Parviz🧔🗡️👑💀