Book D13Anooshirvan and the Road to the End-time

“O lofty cypress, ravisher of hearts,Why are you bowed beneath such bitter darts?

With all your former joy and beauty bright,Why is your radiant heart now filled with fright?”

The cypress said, “I lived in joy and ease,Until old age subdued me by degrees.

I yield before the power of sixty years;Contend no more when such a foe appears.

It bears a dragon’s breath, a lion’s claws;Whoever age may seize, it grips and gnaws.

It has a rhino’s strength, a thunderous cry;One hand brings pain; the other bids us die.

It bends the cypress till its branches fold,And turns the jasmine’s white to amber gold.

It stains the Judas-tree with saffron hue,Then brings the toil that follows age in view.

The runner’s foot, though fetterless, is bound;The precious body falls, by weakness ground.

The pearls within my mouth are loosened now;The once proud cypress has begun to bow.

My sad narcissus eyes now overflow;Their strength declines through weariness and woe.

My once glad heart is filled with lasting pain;These latter days no generous joys retain.

The milk of infancy is scarcely pastWhen Death cries ‘Old!’ and comes upon us fast.

Anooshirvan ruled forty-eight full years;At sixty, youth no longer reappears.

So bring your worldly business to its close,And cease to wound your heart with worldly woes.”

Upon the ivory throne the monarch sat,And placed the radiant crown upon his hat.

The nobles gathered round the royal seat;Beside his counselor, he heard greetings sweet.

The Shah himself then loosed his royal tongue,And to the righteous Giver praise was sung.

He said, “Let all our hearts be filled with love,And praise the almighty Ruler high above.

From Him come good and ill, desire fulfilled;Through Him our hearts with grief or joy are filled.

From Him are grace and strength; at His commandThe sun shines bright above the mortal land.

We will not leave His covenant or way,Nor draw a breath except as He may say.

Who rules with justice from the royal seatWill find the joy of justice full and sweet.

But he who nurses evil in his thoughtWill reap the harm that his own heart has wrought.

Whatever you may ask, we shall reply,And bring you joy whenever you apply.

Delay not till tomorrow this day’s deed;Who knows what fruit tomorrow’s hour may breed?

The rose that blooms so beautifully todayMay fade before tomorrow slips away.

While strength is yours, remember sickness still,And think of pain before your body’s ill.

While yet alive, think what your death will be;We are the leaves the wind strips from the tree.

Whenever you neglect the task that waits,Disorder creeps into your own estates.

When envy takes possession of the heart,No healer cures that sickness by his art.

Desire that conquers reason makes it plainThat madness in the mind has come to reign.

The idle man who spends his days in talkLoses respect wherever he may walk.

The tongue that joins itself to falsehood’s nightWill win no radiance from Fortune’s light.

A king who wakes in health, secure from foes,Who has enough to eat, and wisdom knows,

Has all he needs; to seek for more than theseBrings greed and pain, and robs his heart of ease.

When Shahs are just, humane, and freely give,The world finds peace, and all its people live.

But if a king lets crooked judgment grow,His food turns bitter, blood his drink of woe.

Yet we must hear the minister’s report;Through him both good and ill shall reach our court.

Whoever comes with business to our gate,Yet finds no access and is left to wait,

I will not back the minister who triesTo keep that grievance hidden from my eyes.

As for the men who serve me, old and new,And captains brave who lead my armies through,

As I withhold no stipend that is due,So must they guard their honor, firm and true.

Let kindness and integrity prevail;Let none through negligence in service fail.

Whoever, born Iranian, girds his waistTo serve within our court with loyal haste,

Shall have both treasure and kind words from me,If modest, shrewd, and loyal he should be.

But if he crushes those beneath his hand,And fears not God while ruling in the land,

Then punishment shall answer for his crime;I will not mourn him at the appointed time.

Keep God’s command in all you say and do;Fear Him, not us: He rules all monarchs too.

He lights the crown, the sun, the moon at night;He judges judges, guides our steps upright.

He kindled love for us within each heart,And blinded hostile eyes by sovereign art.

From lowly straw to heaven’s seventh height,All things bear witness to His sovereign might.

The fire and water, earth on which we stand,Reveal His being, make us understand.”

When Anooshirvan spoke, the gathered crowdWas lost in wonder, and they praised aloud.

They rose to greet the Shah upon his seat,With fresh acclaim and homage at his feet.

The king of kings called wise men to his side,And ordered worldly matters far and wide.

He parted all the peopled earth in four,And gave each region rulers, laws, and store.

First Khorasan engaged his careful thought;By that decree the nobles’ joy was wrought.

The second part held Qum, Isfahan’s seat,Where chiefs and nobles made their councils meet.

Azar Abadagan was in that share,Which noble men divided with due care.

The wary Shah joined Ardabil to these,Armenia, and Gilan by the seas.

The third stretched east to west through Pars’s bounds,Ahvaz, and Khazar marches’ outer grounds.

The fourth was Iraq and the Roman land,A populous realm beneath his ordered hand.

Within these marches, to the poor who earnedTheir bread by toil, the Shah’s compassion turned.

He opened up the treasures he had stored,And all folk blessed the justice of their lord.

Of former Shahs, the greater and the small,Each took a portion of the crops from all.

No man escaped the burden of that tax;The royal share had fallen on their backs.

A third or fourth was once the crown’s demand,Until Qobad took one-tenth from the land.

He meant to ease that burden further still,And raise the lowly nearer to his will.

He strove to lift the poor beside the lord,But Fortune would not grant him time’s reward.

Trust not the fierce nahang within the stream;Such worldly hopes dissolve like a brief dream.

When Kisra took the throne, he set the rateBy land assessment, ending tithes of state.

The sages, chiefs, and Mobadan drew round,With shrewd provincial rulers on the ground.

They stretched the survey cords across the land,And set a one-dirham assessed demand.

That levy was so modest in its claimThe owners did not suffer hurt or shame.

Those lacking seed or beasts received due aidFrom royal treasure till their crops were made.

All fallow land was left outside account;Old customary levies ceased to count.

On fruitful vineyards six dirhams were laid,Assessed as tax, by settled measure paid.

Date-palm plantations paid the same by law;The scribes set down each levy that they saw.

From olive, walnut, other trees that boreAt Mehrgan, tax was paid into the store.

One dirham out of every ten was due;No further levy came the whole year through.

The fruits that ripened in Khordad’s fair daysWere held exempt beneath the royal gaze.

From men of means who owned no field or grain,The yearly due was fixed and rendered plain.

From four to ten dirhams might be their due,None was crushed by the sums collectors drew.

The yearly sum in three installments lay;Each fourth month brought a third for them to pay.

The scribes and servants of the royal stateWere not included in this levy’s rate.

The Shah had every toll and impost named,By Mobadan recorded, checked, and framed.

Three ledgers held the whole of the account,So ministers could know the full amount.

One ledger went into the treasury chest,To make the treasurer answer every test.

A second went through all the realm’s domain,To men of power who kept the coin and grain.

The third was handed to the Mobad band,To keep account of tribute in the land.

He scattered watchers over every place,To bring him word of good and evil’s trace.

He filled the earth’s broad face with rule and peace,And made the fallow fields their fruit release.

His people all lay safe on plain and hill,While wolf and sheep drank on, and feared no ill.

He bade them write in Pahlavi that day,A worthy message, which I now relay.

On Bahram day, in Khordad, it was penned,The royal word his servants would attend.

It opened, “From Anooshirvan, king of kings,The worshipper of God, from whom grace springs,

A fruiting branch from King Qobad’s old tree,Who wears the crown of royal majesty,

To stewards who collect the revenue,And serve our throne’s wide shadow, tried and true,

Wholehearted greetings from our throne we sendTo those in whom both worth and lineage blend.

Here at the outset of our work, we raiseFirst to the Maker of the world our praise.

Know this: the man is wise and shrewd of heartWhose praise of God becomes his foremost art.

He knows that God has never needed us,And hidden things are clear before Him thus.

When He would raise a mortal by His hand,He frees him first from need at His command.

He bade me judge, though judgment is His own,Beyond all height and measure ever known.

Before Him king and subject stand as one;Through faithful service, worthy deeds are done.

From earth’s abyss to heaven’s highest frame,From sun to dust, all testify His name.

The ant’s foot bears its witness that He is;We are His servants, and the kingdom His.

His every order sent to us is right;The Div brings lies and loss and moral night.

If my allotted share of earth had beenA garden, grove, and palace walled within,

My heart had still inclined to love and good,And faced all people as a just man should.

But now the Holy God, from east to west,Has placed the whole world under my behest.

From sunlit height to dark and troubled dust,He gave me sovereignty as sacred trust.

I must uphold both love and justice still,Though care should furrow brow and burden will.

If shepherds are careless and fields are wide,No sheep escape the wolf on any side.

As for our subjects, those who work the land,And those who at the sacred fires stand,

Whether on dusty roads or ships at sea,By night or day, wherever they may be,

Or merchants, whether ships or roads they ply,With coins, bright pearls, and musk beneath the sky,

The sun must never shine from heaven aboveUpon them save through justice and through love.

It was the custom of our ancient raceThat sons should hold their fathers’ crown and place.

Then justice reigned, and goodness walked abroad;No deed was cloaked in darkness or in fraud.

We levy tax on every field and tree,To feed the crown by measured, just decree.

When this decree is brought to you, may graceFrom Ormozd make your Fortune hold its place.

Who takes one dirham past the measured rate,And wrongs a subject of my royal state,

I swear by God, who crowned me, this shall be:No shield shall keep that guilty servant free.

His guilty body I shall saw right through;God’s chastisement will fall as evil’s due.

Observe this letter and its clear command,And keep the sacred Way with heart and hand.

Demand with justice, tempered by restraint,Each four-month share, without grief or complaint.

But where the locusts ravaged field and grain,Or sunbeams struck the earth with parching pain,

Or snow and wind descending from the skyHave harmed the crops on which the farms rely,

Or if New Year has brought no rain to blessThe joyful crops, now vexed by drought’s distress,

Demand no tax where stricken fields remainSun-cracked and parched, and bare of standing grain.

Repay the seed and laborers’ full hireFrom royal wealth, as justice may require.

When land’s own master dies and leaves no heir,Let not the fields fall barren for lack of care.

Else those who wish me ill will bring me shame,And point to ruined lands to stain my name.

Give what is needed from the royal store,For God has set me far from wanting more.

If lands within my power come to harm,What use is then my sheltering wing and arm?

Whoever bears the burden of command,Yet shirks the task entrusted to his hand,

Whether great lord or servant placed below,Shall hang where all his faults are plain to show.

The Shahs of former days had different ways;Their chiefs held power over blame and praise.

They never ceased from gathering their gold;My wealth is justice, wealth no thief can hold.

The people of the realm sustain my reign;I set no heart on hoarded gold and gain.

Your charge: uphold the world through what is right,And keep the honor of good birth in sight.

The chief of ranks who barters men for payShall never cross my court, nor near me stay.

When my shrewd stewards at the court appear,Before the Mobadan their counts to clear,

If falsehood shows itself in any speech,No grace of ours again shall be in reach.

I do not love the tyrant’s cruel face;The leopard and oppressor share one place.

All those who follow God’s appointed way,And bathe dark souls in wisdom’s cleansing ray,

Shall have a lofty station at our court,And Mobadan shall praise them in report.

For every righteous seed they choose to sow,God grants them Paradise, where blessings glow.

We are ourselves exempt from need of wealth,Which curses and diminishes the soul’s health.

Who feeds upon the poor man’s flesh for gainShall find his food turned bitterness and pain.

Better a leopard than a king so base,With neither shame nor faith before his face.

The road of right lies open to the eye;Why knock at folly’s door, where spirits die?

To do ill secretly, yet justice showSo public praise may through the kingdom flow,

Will never win God’s favor or our own,Nor be esteemed before our royal throne.

But God and we approve the one whose careMakes love and justice one in all they share.”

So ran the royal letter, sealed and sent;Through all the realm Anooshirvan’s order went.

The world will praise forever such a king,Whose righteous rule made all the kingdom spring.

Of all the Shahs who ever wore the crown,None matched his justice or his high renown.

May lasting youth be granted to his soul;His justice made the wounded kingdom whole.

No Shah was more revered for crown and art,For knowledge, manhood, greatness of the heart.

He had a Mobad; Babak was his name;Wise, fortunate, and shrewd in deed and fame.

He gave him charge of mustering them all,And placed his office by the palace wall.

He bade him build it broad before the gate,And raise it high in fitting royal state.

He furnished it with carpets fit for kings,To seat the clerks who handled martial things.

A proclamation then went far and wide,And summoned every warrior to its side:

“Famed warriors, mount; to meet the Shah prepare;Attend his royal gate with speed and care.

All you who seek reward from sovereign hands,Come armed and ready from your several lands.

Set iron helmets firmly on your heads,Put on your jowshans, leave your peaceful beds.

Bear ox-head gorzes, weapons, bows, and gear;Let every man of war be mustered here.”

The troops came thronging to Babak’s review;Their horses’ dust rose dark across the blue.

But when Babak reviewed the martial train,The foremost warrior had not reached the plain.

He left the office, mounted on his steed,And sent the soldiers homeward at full speed.

The turning sky continued on its way,Until the radiant sun displayed the day.

Again before the palace gate they cried:“You men of Iran, bear your gorzes; ride.

Go fully armed, with jowshan, bow, and spear,And come before Babak for muster here.”

They came with helmets, jowshans, and kamands;Their dust rose like a veil across the lands.

Again Babak surveyed the mustered corps,But still the Shah had not approached the door.

He saw no royal farr, no kingly state,And told the warriors not to stand and wait:

“Return in joy, victorious each of you,In love and duty, loyal, tried, and true.”

Again the third day rose the public cry:“You men of name, whose farr is from the sky,

Let no man ride before this office hereWithout his war helm and his battle gear.

Let each man pass before this office gate,And see his name inscribed in martial state.

Let those adorned with crown and high estate,By farr and majesty made known and great,

Know this: the muster shall exempt no faceFor rank or dignity or pride of place.”

The king of kings gave ear to this command,And heard Babak’s decree across the land.

He smiled, and called for jowshan and for helm,And raised the royal standard of the realm.

With iron helmet fitted on his head,The Shah toward Babak’s office quickly sped.

From Roman helm the chain-mail curtain flowed,Held fast by clasps as toward the gate he rode.

He held an ox-head gorz, and round his waistFour shafts of poplar wood were firmly braced.

His bow on arm, his coiled kamand there layAcross the saddle, ready for the fray.

Around his loins there shone a golden band;He urged his charger on with tightened hand.

He pressed the charger firmly with his thighs,And swung the heavy gorz before all eyes.

He wheeled to left and right with practiced speed,Displaying to Babak both man and steed.

When Babak had inspected horse and man,He came before the Shah and thus began:

“O Shah, be blessed; may wisdom feed your soul;May all your rule keep justice as its goal.

You have adorned the kingdom’s face with right,A memory that will not fade from sight.

My strict command was boldness from a slave,Yet justice is the road all kings must pave.

Once more toward the right now turn your horse;Display the skill that marks your royal force.”

Again the Shah urged on his noble steed,To right and left with Azargashasp’s speed.

Babak looked on amazed and often praisedThe Maker of the world with hands upraised.

One thousand was a horseman’s stated fee;Two thousand went to others by decree.

Four thousand marked the highest rank that day;The Shah received one extra dirham’s pay.

Then from the office door a herald cried:“Bring forth the charger bearing royal pride,

The horseman of the world, our famous king,Whose word is law, whose name makes glory ring.”

Anooshirvan laughed; joy lit his face,And youthful Fortune walked beside his grace.

When Babak left the office of the crown,He came before the noble Shah bowed down.

“Great Shah,” he said, “if I was overbold,My heart but sought the justice I have told.

Let not the Shah take notice of my tone;No harshness lies in duty rightly shown.

Blessed is he whose heart seeks no offense,Yet will not turn from duty’s just defense.”

The Shah replied, “O sage of prudent mind,Hold to the just, and leave the wrong behind.

If for yourself you let the rules depart,You strike a wound into fair justice’s heart.

This strict review has raised you in my eyes,And turned my thoughts to where my duty lies.

My fear is for myself, and how I standWhen armies meet in battle, hand to hand.”

Babak replied, “No crown or royal ringHas ever graced your equal as a king.

No painter, working on a palace wall,Has drawn such hand and rein, O king of all.

May heaven grant the measure you desire;And may your heart stay whole and full of fire.”

Then Anooshirvan answered, “Hear me, sage:Our justice shall renew the ailing age.

The king must leave one memory in the land:A record shaped by righteousness of hand.

What need have we of hoarded wealth and gold,Or toil and greed that leave the spirit cold?

In this brief world where none can ever stay,We need but food and drink from day to day.

I have been burdened by the world’s affairs,Yet kept within my breast these royal cares.

For enemies surround my royal crown,And Ahriman’s designs press closely down.

I thought: ‘I will call troops from every side,And warriors from each province far and wide.

But for this levy I will need great store,And treasure must be gathered more and more.

Yet if such gathering harms the poor in need,My heart must turn away from greedy deed.’

So I revolved this matter in my heart,Until wise counsel shaped the better part.

I wrote to Pahlevans and men of war,To prudent Mobadan of wisdom’s lore,

To nobles and to rulers of each land,And sent throughout the provinces command:

‘All you with wisdom, teach your sons the artOf war, and train them well to play their part.

Send them equipped and trained to face the fight,To seek distinction here through martial might.

They must know hand and rein, the stirrup’s hold,Through hill and valley, resolute and bold.

Teach them to fight the foe in every field,With bow and gorz and sword and battle-shield.

A raw recruit is useless in the fight,Though sprung from Arash and of noble right.’”

The muster-master left the court, and passedWith money for the chiefs through regions vast.

The muster lasted forty days; then allRode armed for war beyond the city wall.

They reached the treasury and took their due,While all the day rang out with gladness new.

“Now I have dressed the earth with men arrayed,Prepared for battle, disciplined, and paid.

In arms and troops I pass the kings of old;In knowledge, counsel, and the wealth I hold.”

The high Mobad heard what the Shah had said,And blessings on the crown and throne he spread.

When sun brought forth its bright and shining ray,And circling heaven unlocked the door of day,

When that mound of fenugreek came in sight,And night’s dark locks withdrew before the light,

Glad Anooshirvan, youthful Fortune crowned,Sat while the wronged came flocking all around.

A herald cried, “All those who seek the right,Approach the Shah, whose smile is warm and bright.”

The king said, “Seek no helper in your needExcept the holy God, whose hand will lead.

Yazdan is Lord of all, our Guide and stay,Who leads through both the worlds upon His way.

Fear not the throne and crown; this court is wide,Its doors stand open freely on each side.

Whoever comes by day or through the night,Let him not fear to speak of what is right.

If we are drinking wine among our friends,Or with advisers weighing public ends,

Or if at polo or the hunting-ground,No guard shall bar you; I must still be found.

Let no one bar your access to my face,Whether I sleep or wake in any place.

At work or play, let none withdraw in awe,Or sleep while any plea awaits the law.

My heart will brighten and rejoice that dayWhen I can drive oppression’s grief away.

Let none lie down in pain through wrongs they bearFrom troops, officials, servants in my care.

For harm from all their grief will fall on me,And God, the Maker, every wrong will see.

However small or hidden be the case,I must account for it before His face.

The tolls and taxes in arrears, set downBy Mobadan in ledgers of the crown,

I now remit; no more is owed for these.Sleep free of fear of me, your hearts at ease.”

Then from the hall applause rose toward the sun:“May farr crown Anooshirvan, chosen one!

May all his years preserve his crown and throne;May kingship and his farr be still his own!”

They went their ways rejoicing, glad of heart;The earth seemed Eram’s garden in each part.

No saddened face appeared throughout the world,While timely rain on field and furrow pearled.

The world resembled Paradise in bloom;Red tulips sprang where rain had pierced the gloom.

The dales, the plains, and orchards shone with light;Like moonlight shone the meadows, clear and bright.

The gardens brightened like the sun in spring;Then news to Rum and Hind took sudden wing:

“In painted silk of Rum Iran is dressed;The Shah has made the whole earth fair and blessed.

With arms and justice he has decked the land;It gleams, moon-bright, beneath his guiding hand.

No one could count the troops he had arrayedExcept the Shah, whose orders they obeyed.

They all are glad of heart and armed for fight;Their fame and glory fill the world with light.”

The kings of every realm were struck with awe;Their judgment faltered at the might they saw.

Ambassadors from Hind and Chin appeared;Kings sent their blessings to the Shah they feared.

They saw that none could counter all his might,And hastened with their tribute, paid outright.

They all accepted service to his throne,And gathered slaves and treasure of their own.

With golden gorzes and with golden crowns,The envoys crossed the roads from many towns.

They reached the court-gate of Iran’s great lord,And brought the tribute their own kings had stored.

The court shone out like Paradise: it teemedWith gold and slaves; its gate with envoys streamed.

Thus for a while the turning heavens aboveConsorted with Iran’s great king in love.

Then wise Anooshirvan formed within his mindA plan to leave his settled court behind.

He meant to journey outward for a while,And circle all the world in royal style.

He meant to bring all hidden things to light,And judge the realm with open royal sight.

With tabiras he marched the army out;The sun and moon looked on the march in doubt.

With troops and jewels, gold and silver’s glow,And golden girdles flashing row on row,

Their golden shields so blazed that mines no moreHeld any gold, nor seas their pearly store.

He marched his troops across Khorasan’s plain,As Sasan’s custom bade, he led his train.

Wherever settlements rose up in sight,He pitched his camp beyond their fields at night.

When karnays blared, a herald went before,And cried aloud beside the camp’s wide door:

“You subjects living under our command,Has harm from us befallen in this land?

Sleep not despairing of the Shah’s redress;Let not your souls grow faint beneath distress.”

Thus to Gorgan he led the royal train,With crown and throne and chiefs of high domain.

A Shah needs noble birth and judgment sound;In him must worth and justice both be found.

When nightingales had filled the world with song,To Sari and to Amol moved the throng.

There hills and plains were forest everywhere;The Shah grew deep in thought at sights so fair.

He left the plain and climbed beneath the sun,Upon an Arab steed, whose coat was dun.

He gazed on mountain, forest, streams that shone,On rose and hyacinth, and game full-grown.

He said, “O Judge almighty, Lord of all,World-conqueror, You hear Your creatures call,

You made the sun and moon, and You displayThe guidance that reveals the righteous way.

You made the world so fair to mortal eyesThat earth can scarcely be told from the skies.

Whoever worships any name but YouWill cast his soul to Hell, as sinners do.

Here Fereydoon, who worshipped You, found rest,And built his dwelling in this forest’s breast.”

One said, “O righteous king and Judge of earth,This place would overflow with joy and mirth

But for the Turks’ road that runs so near;No heart among us would be drained by fear.

Such wealth and glory fill this blessed place,Yet none dare lift their heads or show their face.

Murder and sack and raiding never cease;They strip this land of wealth and folk and peace.

Now scarcely any living thing remains,No cattle, birds, or people on these plains.

This is the single road between the lands,And loss to Iran follows from those bands.

Much toil and strife afflicted former days,Though through Khwarazm the Turks then chose their ways.

No merchant, noble, or brave man of worthCan raise his head in safety on this earth.

Now that your army marches at our side,Avert this evil; bar the raiders’ stride.

Your treasures will increase, not shrink away;Now is the hour to serve us well today.”

The Shah, when he had heard the suppliant speak,Let tears fall freely down his royal cheek.

He turned then to his minister and said,“A grievous task now weighs upon my head.

No longer may we feast or dwell in ease,Nor wear the crown merely ourselves to please.

God will not bless the wrong if we are glad,While nobles grieve and all the land is sad.

These mountain plains, so pleasing to our sight,Are fit for gardens, palaces of light.

With cattle, game, and running streams, the wholeExpanse brings fresh delight to every soul.

We must not let the Turks lay waste this land,Nor leave Iran despoiled beneath their hand.

My kingship, wisdom, judgment all maintainThat manly courage guard this stricken plain.

Men will not bless our name or royal head,While Iran lies before them wrecked and dead.”

He bade his minister, “To court and hallFrom Hind and Rum bring master builders all.

From every province seek farsighted men,The finest craftsmen skilled with tool and pen.

Build me a lofty wall beside the sea,Its broad foundations in the depths must be.

Build it of stone and mortar, firmly bound,Ten kamand-lengths in height above the ground.

From water’s depths the mighty wall shall rise,Up toward the sun that lights the lofty skies.

By such a barrier we shall guard the way,And keep all hostile raiding bands at bay.

Press no man to the work, throw wide our store,And pay the workers all they ask you for.

Let cultivator, lord, and man of birthBe spared all hurt from this work on the earth.”

An aged Mobad he appointed guide,And walled the desert wholly off outside.

They set within the wall an iron gate,And every flock grew safe from wolfish fate.

He posted watchmen all the border round,Then led his troops beyond the guarded ground.

He left the sea for where Alanons dwell,And saw how ruin on their marches fell.

He told his chiefs: “This brings our crown to shame,That Iran’s borderlands should lie in flame.

We must not let our enemies declareThat Iranian lands lie stripped and bare.”

He chose from all the troops an envoy wise,A man of fitting speech and watchful eyes.

He said, “Depart from here when dawn is bright,And speak these words to border-lords of might:

‘From my own watchers I have clearly heardYour public deeds and every private word.

You boast, “Why fear great Anooshirvan’s hand?Iran is but a speck beside our land.”

Now we have reached your land with all our force,And pitched our camp along the mountain course.

Your plains are broad, your mountains steep and high,Your men bear gorz and bow beneath the sky.

Your gorges serve as traps to snare the foe;Your mountain, field, and fell you fully know.

We, chiefs and soldiers all, would challenge you,Though strangers here and foreign to your view.’”

The envoy went and gave the words entire,As ordered by Iran’s world-ruling sire.

Alanons gathered, startled with alarm;Great men and sages met to weigh the harm.

Their troops made raiding their accustomed trade;By noble conduct few of them were swayed.

Iran had long stood fearful of their raids,While folk lost robes and wealth beneath their blades.

Men, women, babes, and cattle fled their homes,And sought the plains through dust where terror roams.

The envoy made the royal message plain,The words of Iran’s world-commanding reign.

The chieftains’ faces darkened at his word,And Anooshirvan’s command their spirits stirred.

The great men of that realm made haste to greetThe Shah, and laid their tribute at his feet,

With slaves and garments, gold and silver bright,And many noble steeds of proven might.

The aged men of eloquence and worth,And wisdom’s seekers came from all the earth.

They came before the tented royal place,Bewailing former deeds with humbled face.

When they had reached the Shah with gifts in hand,They cried and rolled in dust upon the land.

Their eyes were filled with tears, their hearts with blood;Their shame rose round them like a bitter flood.

The warrior led by wisdom in each deedWill have no shame, nor any cause to plead.

The prudent Shah received them with good will,And pardoned every former wrong and ill.

He ordered that throughout the barren ground,Where lions, leopards, savage beasts were found,

They build a city suited for the field,With room to sow and reap abundant yield.

Around its bounds they were to raise a wall,So enemies could bring no harm at all.

Alanons bowed and answered, “We obey;As earringed slaves, we follow all you say.

As our Shah bids, we shall build walls around,And raise a noble city from the ground.”

The Shah then marched to Hindustan and stayed;At his command, all people came arrayed.

They came in hope their lives might yet be spared,And brought the gifts their anxious hands prepared.

For two farsangs from India’s river layThe gifts: coins, steeds, and elephants’ array.

The great men came with hearts both firm and true,And stood before the Shah for his review.

He questioned each with kindness, and assignedTo each the rank that his true worth defined.

Then glad at heart, the Shah turned back that day;His troops and elephants filled all the way.

He traveled onward; then the tidings came:“The Baluchis have wrapped the world in flame.

Through slaughter, pillage, harrying, and raid,The earth lies overwhelmed beneath the blade.

Yet greater ruin comes from Gilan’s shore,Where curses rise and blessings bloom no more.”

The Shah’s heart filled with sorrow and dismay,And grief dissolved the gladness of the day.

He told Iran’s men, “Alan, Hind, and allHave yielded like soft silk before our call.

Yet in our own land we cannot prevail;We hunt for lions, yet before sheep quail.”

One said, “No garden has a rose aloneWithout its thorn beside it fully grown.

These marches too are troublesome to hold,And drain the treasury of silver, gold.

Against Baluchistan, Ardeshir tried,With veterans and captains at his side.

But stratagems and feints and battle failed;His arms and labors nothing there availed.

Though that attempt had ended very ill,He kept its bitter failure hidden still.”

The noble’s words inflamed the Shah that day;Against the Baluch he led his array.

When he drew near those towering mountain walls,He ringed their heights with camps and sentry calls.

His army closed the mountains all around,And barred each passage over stony ground.

They barred the path to wind and ants alike;No hidden road remained for flight or strike.

Like ants and locusts, soldiers filled the place,From mountain skirts to sandy desert space.

A herald moved throughout the camp and cried,From caves and hills and plains on every side:

“Spare neither children found within their bounds,Nor fighting men you meet upon your rounds.

Whether they come in numbers great or small,Let not a single one escape at all.”

The troops, aware how fierce the Shah had grown,Sealed every outlet with ranks of their own.

Not one among the Baluch stayed alive;No woman, child, or warrior could survive.

All perished there beneath the cutting steel;Their evil ended under Fortune’s wheel.

The world found peace when none remained to raid;No Baluchi lived to lift another blade.

Upon their mountains, so it came to pass,The herds thereafter wandered through the grass.

They roamed at will, secure from wolf and ill;No shepherd watched the sheep on slope or hill.

The folk around forgot their former pain,And made their homes on mountain, vale, and plain.

Then Anooshirvan marched toward Gilan’s side,Where trouble burned in Dilam far and wide.

The army stretched from sea to mountain height;Flags filled the air and troops consumed the sight.

The army coiled around the land entire,And sun and moon seemed dimmed by warlike fire.

The Shah declared, “Among both small and great,Let wolf and lion meet one common fate.”

So fierce the slaughter spread through Gilan’s land,That blood ran red across the rock and sand.

Through killing, pillage, burning, grief, and woe,Both men and women raised their cries below.

The slain lay heaped in piles on every side;Their brains besmeared the grass, the sand was dyed.

The warriors, prudent men of rank and weight,Who still remained in Gilan, feared their fate.

They bound their hands and came in grief and fear,With wives and children weeping, drawing near.

Their children went before; behind them pressedThe women, dust on each torn-open breast.

They gathered at the monarch’s court in bands,With wounded bodies and with fettered hands.

They said, “We have turned back from evil ways;Let now the Shah withdraw his wrathful gaze.

If he remains enraged at Gilan’s name,We will behead ourselves to end our shame.

Perhaps the Shah will soften at the sight,When severed heads lie piled before his might.”

When such a cry went up before the crown,The Shah gave heed and set his anger down.

He pardoned them, but took, to check their ill,Two hundred hostages to bind their will.

From both Gilan and Dilam came this band;He left a Pahlevan, then quit the land.

From Gilan then to Madain he made way,With train past numbering in vast array.

As he advanced, before him rose to sightA boundless force of warriors armed for fight.

One horseman broke from those great ranks to flySwift through the dust, and bold of speech and eye;

He left his charger, bowed, and then he said,“Behold Monzer, the Arab chief ahead.”

When Monzer came before the Shah’s own face,The chiefs made way and left him ample space.

The Shah received him warmly at his seat,And joy shone in his face when they did meet.

That veteran loosed his tongue; of Rum he spoke,Of Caesar’s pride, and of the desert folk.

He said, “If you are Shah of Iran’s land,The shield and backbone of its fighting band,

Why do the Romans rule with such display,And strut across the Arab horsemen’s way?

If you should sit upon the Roman throne,Then pride and high command would be your own.

Now if the noble Shah will give consent,No more shall we come begging, bowed and spent.

When desert horsemen meet Rum’s troops in fight,Their jowshans will not stand against our might.”

The Shah grew angry at proud Caesar’s claim,Whose lifted crown had put Monzer to shame.

Among his troops he chose a speaker skilled,With Caesar’s tongue and prudent counsel filled.

He said, “Go now to Rum; do not delay,Or take your ease in settled towns by day.

Say this to Caesar: ‘If your judgment strays,Your head must bear the cost of foolish ways.

The lion hunting Gur-e-Khar will scourEach salt-marsh waste, and none can curb his power.

Justice from Monzer should suffice for you;His lofty rank commands the honor due.

Know left from right, and keep to your own bound;Then claim no more than justice grants your ground.

Since I allot the realms that lie below,And stand supreme where earthly monarchs go,

My conduct shall be worthy of my name;I will not let a wind touch Monzer’s fame.

Since you have stretched your hand across the sand,Take careful thought before you test my hand.

That sovereignty is mine, and mine alone,From Bull to Pisces, earth and heaven, my own.

If I should send my troops to Rum’s own door,Your steel will turn to wax upon your floor.’”

The envoy left the court at his command,And sped like torrents toward the Roman land.

He gave to Caesar all the Shah had said,But that base ruler turned from right instead.

He turned away from justice and repliedWith base evasions born of Roman pride.

Imagining no fall from power near,He answered thus in scorn and without fear:

“As for that fool Monzer, weigh what he brays;His speech is little more than desert haze.

If he complains in wantonness and wrong,Exaggerating injuries too long,

Or if one spearman in the field complain,I will make every height a level plain.

The waterless desert I shall make a sea;Let every Arab learn to answer me.”

The envoy heard, then hurried back like dust,And told the Shah of Caesar’s scorn unjust.

Then Anooshirvan rose in wrath and said,“No wisdom rules the Roman Caesar’s head.

I will show him whose arm maintains command,Who conquers, fights, and seals pacts in the land.

His arrogance, his pillage, and his pride,His raids and ravages shall be cast aside.

He shall repent more dearly than the drunkWho thrusts both hands in fire when night has sunk.”

He had the karnays sound their summons loud,And troops came thronging in, crowd after crowd.

The tymbals thundered at the palace gate;Earth darkened, air turned black beneath their weight.

He chose out thirty thousand men to ride,All swordsmen, picked from troops on every side.

He gave Monzer command of that array,And spoke to him before he marched away:

“Lead from the desert all your spearmen now,And march on Rum’s frontier with stern-set brow.

Set Rum’s frontier and country all aflame;Let Caesar learn the terror of my name.

I am your Shah, yet in this feud I standAs your supporter, strengthening your hand.

I count Rum’s legions but a pinch of dust;My sword shall answer Caesar as it must.

A smooth-tongued envoy shall convey my word,And bear a letter, so my will is heard.

Perhaps this course will keep you free from harm;Against Rum’s Caesar, trust my shielding arm.”

The Shah then called a scribe who served at court,And bade him write to Caesar this report:

“From Anooshirvan, Shah of glorious birth,Kay Qobad’s reviver, conqueror of earth,

To Caesar, Rum’s exalted sovereign lord,The keeper of its marches, watch and ward.”

He praised Yazdan, from whom all greatness came,And sought from Him alone his lofty name.

“He guides the sun and moon through circling height,The source of victory and conquering might.

Who has escaped the heavens’ turning flight,By seeking war, or love, or what is right?

Though you are Caesar, lord of Rum’s command,Do not contend with those of Monzer’s band.

If you take sheep from out the wolf’s own claw,You know that toil will follow such a law.

If you send troops against Monzer’s domain,No army, throne, or treasure shall remain.

My sword shall punish any man who daresDefy his lord with proud, insolent airs.

Step not a single cubit past your bound,To keep our covenant both safe and sound.

But if you spurn these words that I have said,Then I shall trample throne and royal head.

The lord of crown and might greets all who keepThe peace, nor wake the strife that lies asleep.”

They stamped the letter with the royal seal,To make the Shah’s command both firm and real.

Then from the court they picked a rider bold,One fit to bear the warning, stern and cold:

Persuasive, valiant, shrewd in speech and art,To stand before great Caesar, stout of heart.

The envoy took the royal letter sealed,And came to Caesar’s court, his charge revealed.

He greeted him and gave the Shah’s own word,And told him all the message he had heard.

When Caesar read the royal letter through,He writhed in anger at the threats he knew.

His brow grew wrinkled and his face turned pale,At every threat contained within the tale.

He called a scribe to take down his reply,With pride and anger blazing in his eye.

With ink as black as pitch, the scribe beganBy praising God, who rules the life of man:

“The Artist of the heavens, Lord of all,The source of war and peace and friendship’s call,

Crowns one a king and grants him high command,While one stands girt for service at his hand.

Though turning heaven knelt at your behest,And Jupiter your mastery confessed,

Search every record: never has Rum’s sonPaid tribute to the Kayan kings, not one.

Though you are king, I am no less than you;I too have crown and troops to serve me true.

Why should I bear such insults out of fearOf tuskers, tabiras that shake the ear?

I now demand the tribute that you owe;Who dares confront Rum’s legions, blow for blow?

You know Iskandar’s deeds across your land;That noble king was ours, with sword in hand.

Iskandar’s sword is not concealed from sight;Why choose this quarrel and forsake the right?

The desert horsemen, armed with spear and bow,Have crossed our bounds and laid our holdings low.

No more will we endure their lawless raid;Our legions shall repay them blade for blade.

Anooshirvan did not create the sun,Nor seize heaven’s key as though the world were won.

He cannot claim that only he is king,Or that his will alone directs each thing.”

He gave no spoken answer to be heard,Nor spoke of Kisra with a bitter word.

Then, as he sealed the letter, Caesar said,“May Christ and Cross go with you where you tread.”

The envoy held his tongue and made no claim,But read with grief the words of scorn and blame.

In grief he left and hurried back like dust,To bear the words of Caesar’s scorn unjust.

He reached the Shah and told him everything,All Caesar purposed against Iran’s king.

The king, when he had read the letter through,Burned with fierce rage at all proud Caesar knew.

He called the Mobadan and chiefs of might,And weighed the letter’s words by counsel’s light.

For three full days he sat with chiefs of war,And battle-breaking Pahlevans of yore.

The fourth day saw his firm resolve made plain:To lead his troops against the Roman reign.

At court-gate karnays blared with brazen sound,And tabiras and cymbals shook the ground.

He paused no more, but righteous battle sought,And marshaled all his troops as prudence taught.

He called on God, the Giver of all good;A cloud of dust rose where the army stood.

The sky’s own face grew black beneath its pall,As though a sea of pitch had drowned it all.

He clad the earth in horseshoes, trail on trail,And crimson banners spread a silken veil.

No room was left on earth for gnat or fly,Nor wind could find a passage through the sky.

The horsemen’s clamor, elephants’ dust-clouds vast,Made earth a Nile through which the army passed.

The great Shah marched with Kaveh’s flag and crown,In golden boots that flashed with bright renown.

Their clamor carried two farsangs ahead;The ranks by tabiras and tuskers led.

Toward Azar Abadagan he led the way,With nobles front and rear in close array.

When he beheld Azargashasp’s far light,He left his horse and bowed before the sight.

He asked his Mobad for the barsom boughs,And bathed his cheeks in tears and holy vows.

He entered praying through the fire-temple door,While a gold-inlaid throne stood on the floor.

They spread the Zand-Avesta wide to read,And Mobadan intoned its holy creed.

The rites were done; the Mobadan and allThe chiefs and nobles bowed before the call.

They tore their robes and cast down jewels rare,And murmured blessings in a voice of prayer.

The Shah approached, and praised with humbled browThe Maker, to whom earth and heaven bow.

He asked for victory, with God his guide,Upon the path where justice must abide.

He gave the attendants gifts with open hands,And fed the poor throughout the sacred lands.

He pitched his tent before the temple bright,His troops arrayed in order left and right.

He called a prudent scribe and spoke at length,Dictating words of counsel, guard, and strength.

He bade him write to each Iranian chiefAlong the border, words both grave and brief:

“Fear God, keep watch, and guard the world from foes;Let vigilance arise where danger grows.

You lords and Pahlevans, keep justice clear;Protect the lowly; hold their safety dear.

Keep troops enough to break the hostile hand,And hold firm guard across the troubled land.

While my own standard is beyond your sight,Let no man sleep secure through careless night.”

When from the fire-temple he marched, Rum-bound,His fame through every field and home would sound.

Those who obeyed came forth along the way;The others fled the region in dismay.

They came with gifts and offerings rich and rare,Wherever he encamped, from everywhere.

From every side came messages of praise,Wherever he led on his army’s ways.

He feasted and he hunted every day,Yet never left the war’s appointed way.

Each night a thousand chiefs would come and dine,To banquet with the king in royal line.

When he drew near the far lands, he preparedFor war and paid the troops the sums declared.

Shirviyeh, Bahram’s son, led all the force,In counsel firm and steady on his course.

The left wing of his army he gave in trustTo Farhad, battle-wise and sternly just.

Ostad Pirooz commanded on the right,And Goshasb kept the baggage safe from fight.

Mehran was set to hold the center’s core,His heart steadfast amid the battle’s roar.

He gave the forward watch to Kharrad’s son,Wise Hormizd, trusted when the day was done.

His watchers ranged abroad on every hand,So nothing hid throughout the hostile land.

The Shah then called his veterans to his side,And spoke at length with counsel as their guide:

“You men of rank, you vast and warlike band,Let none neglect the post where he must stand.

If one should quit his ground without my leave,No plea or false excuse shall gain reprieve.

Who harms the poor or robs a wealthy manShall answer for his vile and wicked plan.

Who harms a fruiting tree, or does a wrong,Or tramples fields where tender crops belong,

Or leaves his post to rush into the frayBefore the troops are drawn up in array,

I swear by God, who gave me crown and might,Who rules Mars, Saturn, and the sun’s own light,

My sword shall cleave him, though, as does a star,He hides in clouds and flees from judgment far.

I ride as scout before the army’s face,The central stay and guard in every place.

I guard the elephants, the troops, the train,Now left, now right, across the warlike plain.

On land or sea, wherever war may keepMy army, I shall seek no rest or sleep.”

A herald, Shirzad, took the royal word,And through the camp his urgent message stirred.

He rode by every tent and warder’s stand,And cried the Shah’s stern order through the land:

“O troops beyond all count, attend this call:The watchful Shah demands right deeds from all.

Who walks upon this darkened earth belowAnd lets no love or righteous wisdom show,

His blood shall be poured out upon the ground;God’s grace and mercy will not wrap him round.”

No herald’s cry alone could satisfyThe Shah, who watched by night and open sky.

At every hour he made his rounds, alertTo good and ill alike, to wrong and hurt.

He gathered tidings from affairs of state,And overlooked no matter, small or great.

When any soldier died upon the way,He built a burial chamber where he lay.

The dead man’s goods—his silver and his gold,His bow, his helm, kamand, belt, arms of old—

Were buried, whether common, fine, or plain;His property beside him would remain.

The world was lost in wonder at the heightOf Anooshirvan’s majesty and might.

Wherever he engaged his foes in fight,He showed sound counsel, caution, and foresight.

He called a trusty envoy to his side,Who went where foes prepared themselves in pride.

If they accepted justice and its way,The wise Shah spared them and forbore the fray.

But if they fought, the Shah, nahang in wrath,Went out with guile and hewed through them a path.

He spoiled their fields and crops with sword and flame,And joined stern justice to his royal name.

The Shah’s conduct shone like the sun above,Whose rays reach wet and dry with equal love.

It hides its radiance from no earthly field,And makes the veiling clouds of heaven yield.

Its gifts are soil and sand, and scent and hue,The gleaming pearl, the running waters too.

Its radiance and height it owes to none;It gives and cheers the heart, the bounteous sun.

Through justice, prudence, farr, and his command,The king of kings, by gorz, subdued each land.

Both war and bounty seemed mere sport to him;Through these his greatness rose and did not dim.

When elephant or lion barred his way,He let no combat last beyond a day.

If any foe in jowshan, helmed, drew near,And faced his troops in arms without a fear,

They slew him, or in scorn they bound the proud,And dragged him in the victor’s chains, head bowed.

Thus marched the Shah until his army cameTo mighty fortress Shurab, a fort of fame.

The Shah beheld the fortress rising high,With men, war gear, and stores beneath the sky.

Its stone foundations sank through waters deep;Its walls rose to the clouds, immense and steep.

The troops besieged it, yet they could not traceA path of entrance to the guarded place.

From four sides catapults began to poundThe fortress walls and bring them to the ground.

From every quarter came the breath of doom;No refuge remained, no road, no gate, no room.

As through the sky the sun pursued its flight,The walls sank flat, once raised to such a height.

The warriors’ cries and dust rose ever higher,Up to the moon with billowing smoke and fire.

The stronghold filled with heads from bodies torn,And headless trunks lay scattered, gashed, and worn.

The cries for quarter and the women’s screamsRose over tabiras in broken streams.

Great men renowned for wealth and battle mightWere bound on elephants, a captive sight.

He spared no fighting foe amid the fray,And spared no gold when feasting crowned the day.

He marched; another fortress rose ahead,Where Caesar kept the wealth his wars had bred.

A mighty warden held that fortress fast;Its wealth and towers stood guarded to the last.

They called it Rum’s Adornment in its pride,Until the Shah brought ruin to its side.

The watchful Shah surveyed the fortress wall;His troops had yet to reach it at his call.

He bade his archers darken all the sky,Till shafts fell thick as hail from clouds on high.

The chieftains stormed the walls with hearts aflame,And cast fire on tower and gate and frame.

No soldier of its garrison survived;No thorn or briar round its fields still thrived.

The Shah gave Caesar’s treasures to his men,And crowns and gold went round among them then.

He brought the Day of Doom upon that town;Its people fled as fire and fear came down.

Then men and women, children, elders frail,Came to the Shah and raised a pleading wail:

“The ministers, the treasurers, and allThe wealth of Rum lie open at your call.

We only beg your mercy from the blade;We are your slaves beneath the royal shade.”

The Shah then bade the slaughter cease that day,And gave them lavish gifts to ease dismay.

Departing then, the Shah resumed his way,And left Rum’s Adornment behind that day.

A rider told him, “Caesar’s force draws near;Its vanguard soon before us will appear.”

When news arrived of jowshans, spears ahead,The Shah arrayed his troops where banners spread.

He ordered all his troops to take their stand,Prepared for war beneath his stern command.

They marched as though an iron mountain rolled;Their cries and karnays made the heavens cold.

A scout came riding to the royal place,And brought the Shah his tidings face to face.

He said, “Great Caesar has dispatched a trainOf chiefs and warriors armed to cross the plain.

A mighty Roman leads their battle line:Farfuriyus, proud in war’s design.

With loud karnays and tabiras that thrum,He leads fierce wolves who scent the war to come.”

While thus he spoke before the watchful king,Rum’s dust-clouds rose as if on eagle’s wing.

The Shah smiled back and answered to the man,“We knew of this and long have shaped our plan.

Our army stands prepared, its courage steeled;Long has this purpose in our hearts been sealed.”

Then foam came to his lips; he gave commandThat all the army should in order stand.

So line with line confronted on the ground,And dust-choked air could find no passage round.

A glorious gathering filled the battlefield,Proud chiefs and men with scimitars to wield.

All loins were girded tightly for the fight;The great, the wise, the royal seed of might.

Their swords were tempered in the blood of foes,And keen enough to cleave the clouds that rose.

The foe had no more respite in that placeThan hunted prey when leopards spring in chase.

The Roman dead lay heaped across the plain;The wounded soldiers left the fight in pain.

Farfuriyus, now wounded, fled the fray;Flag shredded, tabiras upturned that day.

Iranian horsemen chased them at full pace,Like leopards hunting wild sheep in the chase.

They swept Rum’s legions from the field in rout;Then Anooshirvan led his army out.

With gorz and sword in hand, his soldiers came,And marched across the plain in warlike flame.

He led them till another stronghold rose,A citadel prepared to meet its foes.

Its name was Kaliniyus; its wall rose highAbove the eagle’s passage through the sky.

A full moat girded it on every side,And fair domains around it spread in pride.

There halls and gardens, groves, and mansions fairDisplayed Rum’s wealth and splendor everywhere.

A Roman garrison held every tower,With seasoned men prepared to prove their power.

The Shah pitched camp two farsangs from the site;The army’s dust turned all the air to night.

From Kaliniyus rose a battle-cry,A roar that drowned the tymbals in the sky.

The Shah surveyed the city’s walls of stone;The troops about it had in number grown.

The gates became the scene of fierce attack;With shafts and fire-pots they drove men back.

When evening paled and half the sky grew dark,No wall stood whole beneath the battle’s mark.

The city all lay level with the ground;Then from the Shah’s own gate there came a sound.

A proclamation through the army ran:“Withdraw from Kaliniyus, every man.

Come from the city; take the open plain,And there through darkness let the troops remain.

If cries from women or from elders rise,Or pillage, strife, or riot reach the skies,

If one complaint should reach me of such sin,With straw my men shall stuff the culprit’s skin.”

When morning raised its hand through Cancer’s sign,And banished sleep with rays of light divine,

The tymbals sounded at the royal gate;The foremost chiefs came forth in ordered state.

Then from that hold, its women and its menAssembled at the Shah’s great gate again.

They said, “No mounted warrior now is near;No noble of the town can now appear.

Though guiltless, all lie slain or wounded here;Now let the Shah’s compassion conquer fear.

God’s justice cannot count such bondage right:Young, old, and babes and women share this plight.

The citadel and city’s walls are gone;Hereafter only thorn-brakes will live on.

Since Caesar was the one who fanned this flame,Why should Kaliniyus’ folk bear the blame?”

The Shah gave pardon to those Roman folk;Both guilty and guiltless escaped the stroke.

He left them means enough to live in health,Then marched away with arms and gathered wealth.

But those among the folk still fit to fightWere bound on elephants and sent from sight.

Then news reached Antakiya’s guarded wall:“The Shah advances; hear his battle-call.”

Within that city massed a countless throng,Rum’s legions armed for battle, keen and strong.

The Shah allowed them three days’ respite still,That war might spare the innocent from ill.

But on the fourth his army, mountain-like,Drew up Iran’s warriors in ranks to strike.

To guard their women, children, wealth, and name,Rum’s bold horsemen advanced in battle flame.

Three mighty battles filled two bitter days;The third dawn broke beneath the sun’s bright blaze.

Across that prosperous region, far and wide,No Roman horseman found a place to hide.

No Roman horseman held the field that day;Iran’s troops seized the city in array.

So dense the soldiers stood in that estate,There was no room to stand inside the gate.

The men of rank who wore the crown’s bright sign,With Caesar’s treasurers, formed a suppliant line.

They gave their treasures to Iran’s great king,The wealth that Roman coffers forth could bring.

Iranians bound the warriors of that land,On elephants they set them by command.

The Shah sent off the captives, bound in chain,To Madain, with the spoil of Roman pain.

He then went round the city and beheldA countryside where moonlike splendors welled.

The gardens, groves, and waters made age new,Restoring youth and freshness to the view.

The king addressed his nobles in delight:“Is this young spring, or Antakiya’s sight?

Whoever has not seen glad Paradise—Its musk-rich soil and gold bricks beyond price;

Its trees are rubies, rosewater its streams;Its earth is heaven; its sky with sunlight gleams—

Should look upon this land, where blessings flow;May all the lands of Rum in plenty grow.”

Then Anooshirvan bade his builders raiseA splendid city graced by waterways,

Like Antakiya, radiant as a flame,With groves and rose-beds worthy of its name.

The great men, glad in heart and face aglow,And named the new-built town Zib-e-Khosrow.

It seemed like spring, all color, scent, and light,A paradise made pleasing to the sight.

The captives taken from the towns of Rum,Whose fetters galled them in their exile’s gloom,

Were freed by Anooshirvan that same day,And there were given homes in which to stay.

He said, “We built this city for delight,With gardens, rose-beds, palaces, and light,

That each may find a dwelling to his mind,With beauty fit for all of mortal kind.”

He gave each captive gifts and ample aid,Till Paradise seemed there on earth remade.

In mansions, streets, and markets all around,No vacant space within the town was found.

A shoemaker came forth and, grieving, cried,“O just king, hear what joy I am denied.

At my old house in Kaliniyus grewA mulberry whose shade I loved and knew.

I find no joy in living here at all;No mulberry stands by my doorway wall.”

Then Anooshirvan ordered, “Go, restoreSome thriving trees beside that poor man’s door.”

The Shah then chose a Christian, wise and fair,Gave wealth and troops, and made the town his care.

He said, “This city now belongs to you;Guard all these strangers and their dwellings too.

Be like a fruitful tree for everyone;At times a father, and at times a son.

Give freely; put all stinginess away;Be measured in whatever you may say.”

The Shah marched out from Antakiya’s land,And left the city in that Christian’s hand.

Farfuriyus before great Caesar came,And told of Kaliniyus’ fall and shame.

He said, “Anooshirvan came in might,With troops and elephants prepared for fight.

So vast his army, seas and mountain spursAre lost beneath the dust each horseman stirs.”

Then Caesar writhed at all that he had said,And called his prudent chiefs in fear and dread.

He feared the Shah, and sat in anxious thought,And counsel through the light and darkness sought.

A Mobad said, “Your counsel went amiss;You lacked the strength to fight a Shah like this.

His dust will leave your kingdom overthrown;The ruin that now threatens is your own.”

With fluent speech but judgment weak and vain,A ruler brings his kingdom only pain.

These words left Caesar lost in doubt and fear;Dread of the Shah made every course unclear.

He chose philosophers of noble birth,Whose learning matched their eloquence in worth.

Full sixty wise Mobadan, pure in soul,Were chosen to fulfill the mission’s goal.

Caesar dispatched the embassy that day;The noble envoys bore his words away.

Their leader, Mehras, ready-witted, wise,Had youthful years but age within his eyes.

Before them went vast treasures of all kinds,Beyond the count of careful human minds.

Caesar repented what his tongue had said,And sent fair words and counsel in its stead.

With heavy tribute, hostages now went:His kin and warriors were among those sent.

When Mehras heard, he saw how things might be:The tangled knot had yielded and come free.

They reached the Shah, prepared to speak their part,Their tongues like diamonds honed by wit and art.

Wise Mehras came before him; his orationIn Roman praised the ruler of the nation.

So keen and true his speech, one could believeThat he could draw a star from out his sleeve.

He said, “O king, think less of earthly things,Of all the wealth and rank that fortune brings.

You now are here in Rum, while Iran liesEmpty of glory underneath the skies.

So when great Caesar far from Rum must roam,A gnat outweighs the value of our home.

All worth comes from the people of a place;Without them, human goodness leaves no trace.

If all this tumult rose from greed for gain,Which makes both honor and good judgment wane,

Behold, I bring you all Rum has possessed;Yet peace of soul outweighs each golden chest.”

The king’s heart, hearing this, grew bright as spring,Like gardens when the birds begin to sing.

He took the envoys’ gifts with gladdened face,The bags of gold and slaves brought to that place.

He praised the envoys, then bestowed still moreOf royal favor than he showed before.

He said, “The man who nurtures wisdom’s flameDeserves a valiant warrior’s honored name.

If all Rum’s soil were changed to solid gold,You still would outvalue that land of old.”

They fixed the tribute Caesar had to bear:Ten ox-hides’ worth of dinars as his share.

Each year Rum’s king must send the sum decreed,With further gifts to seal the peaceful deed.

Caesar’s troops must not enter Yemen then,Nor take a thing from any of its men.

They robed the envoys, and to make completeTheir honor, capped their heads and shod their feet.

Then karnays blared and brazen cymbals rang;The prudent Shah moved on as war-songs sprang.

He led his army onward into Sham,And tarried there awhile in ordered calm.

He brought back crowns and thrones and wealth from war,With troops and slaves and money in great store.

The earth’s back bent beneath the elephant train,And treasured dirhams added to the strain.

When he resolved to leave that conquered land,He placed Shirviyeh, Bahram’s son, in command.

He said, “Collect the tribute Caesar pays;Let no neglect creep through the months and days.”

Shirviyeh kissed the earth, his body prone,And blessed the Shah in reverent, loyal tone:

“Be watchful, blessed; may this Kayanian treeStay green, from yellow leaves forever free.”

When tabiras rolled at the monarch’s gate,His troops marched toward Arman in ordered state.

Anooshirvan shone, the world’s hope and dread,A king who wore the sun upon his head.

As heaven’s sun speeds onward in its course,He bore both sword and mercy with like force:

Relentless in the hour of wrath and flame,Yet full of mercy when compassion came.

So was this Shah of noble royal line,Whose justice made the world around him shine.

Know this: the monarch in his royal state,Like every subject, must possess a mate.

Each needs both food and clothing, and with theseA private place for comfort, rest, and ease.

If then the wife is pious and discreet,She proves a treasure, rich and full and sweet.

Still more if she stands tall, with flowing hairWhose scent of musk perfumes the very air:

Wise, learned, well counseled, chaste in every part,With gentle speech that shows a gracious heart.

The noble Shah possessed a wife like this,A cypress in her height, a moon in bliss.

That moon-faced woman worshipped at Christ’s shrine;All tongues extolled her beauty as divine.

She bore a child whose face outshone the sky,More bright than Venus to the gazing eye.

The child was called Nushzad, so gently bredNo harsh wind stirred the hair upon his head.

He grew like cypress, straight and tall and grand,A gifted youth, the glory of the land.

He knew of Hell and Paradise’s road,Of Christ, of Esdras, and what Zardosht showed.

The Zand-Avesta failed to win his trust;He turned to Christ, whose faith he held as just.

Baptism washed his face; he turned asideTo take his mother’s faith to be his guide.

He left his father’s faith, and men would viewHis choice with wonder all that era through.

The king grew troubled, grieving and forlorn:His rose had yielded nothing but a thorn.

They sealed the portals of his palace fair,And made a prison of that dwelling rare.

His prison-house at Gund-e-Shapur lay,From Iran and from Bakhtar far away.

Many condemned and captive men were thenConfined with him inside that guarded pen.

Now when the Shah returned from Rum’s campaign,The march and turmoil pressed him hard with pain.

So weak he grew that court could not be held,And illness through the royal body swelled.

One bore the tidings to Nushzad and said,“The empire’s grace has fled; the Shah is dead.”

His father’s death brought joy to Nushzad’s heart;May every joy from such a man depart!

Who smiles when just kings pass from mortal sightMust bear a gloomy spirit void of light.

A famous sage once gave this sharp reply:“If my death brings you joy, then never die.”

From death no mortal refuge can be won;Sooner or later, life for all is done.

Yet death can never wreck the righteous soulWhose labors seek God’s favor as their goal.

That son is both a reprobate and foolWho will not walk beneath his father’s rule.

The colocynth, whether wet or dry,Will never breathe musk fragrance to the sky.

Why should the gardener expect the seedTo change the nature fixed within its breed?

If any plant inclines toward earth below,It turns from sunlight and pure water’s flow.

The plant bears neither fruit nor leafy growth;It owes the earth its life and dying both.

I have named Nushzad; give my counsel heed,And never quit the path of righteous deed.

If heaven itself could own a mother’s face,Anooshirvan would fill that mother’s place.

Why should his son forsake his father’s course,And grasp at crown and sovereignty by force?

My son, now listen; I shall tell you all,Concealing nothing, whether great or small.

I shaped the dehqan’s lore to leave behindA monument to outlive mortal mind.

May this memorial keep my work in view,And blessings find the soul that reads it through.

When I am gone, I ask no greater prizeThan that my name in honor still should rise.

A sage of six-score years, austere and wise,Beheld this tale with sorrow in his eyes:

“Whoever treats a righteous king with strifeSprings from the Dark Deceiver, not from life.”

Of Nushzad ancient legend tells the same,As old tradition handed down his name.

He heard the throne was empty of its Tree;His father gone, the seat of kingship free.

He opened wide his palace doors; his callDrew troops from every quarter to his hall.

Men who had left all reason far behind,Whom Anooshirvan had ordered confined,

Nushzad released from prison and from chains,And panic swept the streets and crowded lanes.

He gathered Christians, priests and prelates bold,And drew them all within his rebel fold.

He summoned horsemen, swordsmen to his hand,All armed for war and under his command.

His mother gave him treasures from her store,The gifts the Shah had heaped on her before.

Then thirty thousand men had joined his side,All famed in arms, all ready, battle-tried.

The towns around him fell beneath his hand,And news of Nushzad spread across the land.

He took the tribute Ahvaz had to pay,And Shushtar’s dues as well, without delay.

From Gund-e-Shapur, letters sped awayTo Caesar, pledging faith to Roman sway.

The towns of Madain soon heard the tale,And every loyal heart with fear grew pale.

The frontier warden, when the truth was known,Sent forth a horseman to the royal throne.

He told the rider all that he had learned,The secret plot and how rebellion burned.

Like running water, swiftly on he went,And reached the Shah to whom he had been sent.

He gave the letter, then recounted allNushzad had done since first he raised the call.

The Shah heard all, then read the letter through;Grief struck his heart; bewilderment then grew.

The Shah sat with a noble Mobad, wise,And spoke in private, far from other eyes.

When he had settled matters in his mind,He called a scribe to write what he designed.

The Shah, sore-hearted, with a frowning face,With sighing lips began his words to trace.

He first gave praise to Him who fashioned all,The heavens, time, and earth beneath His call,

The Maker of the sun and moon on high,Of Saturn, crown, and farr that kings live by.

“From worthless stubble to the elephant’s might,From lions’ strength to ants in dust, so slight,

From smallest ant to Nile’s abundant flow,All creatures under God’s commandment go.

His great command holds each created soul;No hand can ever wrest from Him control.

I read the bitter letter that made knownThe harm my son has wrought against the throne.

I heard of felons broken from their ward,Who now around Nushzad have drawn the sword.

Better to quit the world than see this day;All born must die and pass from earth away.

First Anooshirvan, then Nushzad must go;No earthly life escapes death’s overthrow.

From gnat and ant to elephant in power,All meet death’s claw and beak at their last hour.

If earth revealed the secrets in its breast,And showed the first and last within its chest,

Its bosom would be filled with buried kings,Its soil with blood from heroes wearing rings.

Its skirts would show the learned gone below,Its folds fair-cheeked dames vanished long ago.

Why set a crown or helmet on your head,When death’s swift shaft will lay you with the dead?

No one rejoices at a son’s last breath,Although all men are subject now to death.

But those who gather close about my son,And count my days as if my life were done,

If they themselves could pass death’s peril by,Then they might well rejoice when others die.

Only the misbegotten knaves awaitThe death of righteous Shahs and call it fate.

Though Nushzad turned his head from our command,Because the Div has guided his right hand,

His purpose has no firmness in this strife;Desire now drives him to destroy his life.

He thought, ‘While I am crowned, no king shall reignTo rival me throughout the world’s domain.’

Such news should not have led his mind astray,Nor made him cast his place with us away.

Had Anooshirvan’s seat of kings stood bare,Nushzad would be the realm’s most glorious heir.

Still, such an act befits his chosen creed,And suits a soul that turns to evil deed.

I am not moved or fearful in this thing,Though our son’s faith flows from a tainted spring.

As for the wealth that he has wrecked and spent,I count that loss as light, and rest content.

As for all those who joined his wrongful side,And from their hearts cast awe of us aside,

The wrongdoers, malignant, base in birth,Unworthy subjects of my crown on earth,

We look on them as despicable men;Their deeds must not alarm your heart again.

My fear is of the Master of the world,Before whose wisdom all the veils are furled.

We must be ever thankful in our soulTo God, whose knowledge comprehends the whole.

He gave me triumph, farr, and power to reign,The diadem and rule of my domain.

Had my praise matched the greatness of His gift,My fortune would have known a higher lift.

A drop of seed went from my loins one day,And found its rest elsewhere, from me away.

It woke, and rose against me as my foe;I fear I am the source of my own woe.

Yet if Yazdan has no wrath aimed at me,I do not fear what earthly eyes may see.

In my regard, all those who join my sonAre vile and low; their honor’s race is run.

The letter sent by Caesar to his handBrought troubled waters flowing through the land.

So close their faith and purpose now appear,One thinks that Caesar stands before us here.

The man who leaves his fathers’ ancient creedHas lost the wisdom that the soul may need.

That son is best who shares his father’s way,And does not war with sire in evil day.

Although that senseless youth has left the right,No lip must curse him in the people’s sight.

To curse him is, in essence, our disgrace,For our own blood is written on his face.

Array the troops; let every rank stand tight,But let restraint and wisdom guide the fight.

Hold back at first; if matters pass their bound,And he gives battle on the open ground,

Take him alive; let killing be the last,That he may yet repent of what has passed.

The water that has made this cypress growShould not be used to wash the dirt below.

But if he holds his honored person cheap,And casts away the pillow fit for sleep,

If that tall cypress shall demean its state,Then do not spare the gorz at battle’s gate.

A man of rank indulging base desireCannot be freed from that consuming fire.

Such high-born men are base in open sightWhen they against the world’s great monarch fight.

Fear not to slay him if his pride has ledHis royal blood to stain the dust with red.

He hastened toward Caesar’s faith and crown,And cast his old allegiance wholly down.

By this his greatness has become a shame;His chosen course has stained his royal name.

He chose his ruin from high heaven’s wheel,And turned from all that royal hearts should feel.

Wise Mehr-e-Nush, in woolen garments dressed,A thoughtful servant, thus his view expressed:

‘The man made glad to see his father’s death,May he have neither happiness nor breath.’

Seek no light in the darkness of the stream;Do not mix fire and water in one dream.

All ease that mortals taste is laced with pain;Such is the law beneath which all remain.

Do not befriend the ever-turning sky;Now shell, now kernel, men are lifted high.

Why seek the hues and scents its favors lend?It shows its face, then robs you in the end.

Whenever heaven lifts your fame and state,Your toil and fear and loss grow yet more great.

As for the soldiers gathered to his side,Who leave the path of duty, false in pride,

Know they are wind and playthings in our eyes,The mockery of every man called wise.

As for the Christians serving in his ranks,Who rose for faith and swelled rebellion’s flanks,

Christ’s teaching holds that even words that smartMust not be used to wound another’s heart.

They leave Christ’s path and precepts, and in lossBecome at last the foemen of the Cross.

As for the others, common rabble, low,Ill-taught and rash wherever they may go,

They will not stir up fear in any man;Their counsel is a breath and empty plan.

If in the fight you take my son alive,Speak not these words, nor let reproach revive.

Do not torment his heart with words of blame,Lest grief extinguish his remaining flame.

His person must not suffer hurt or stain,Nor should his clothing show the marks of pain.

Our veiled women might destroy their lives,And grief would pierce our household like sharp knives.

His palace will provide the fitting wardFor him and all who followed with the sword.

Let him draw freely on my wealth, secure,Though one so dear has grown so vile and poor.

Provide him women, food, and bedding; meetHis wants, and let his comfort be complete.

For he is suited only to such things,To chambers, comforts, tapestries of kings.

As for Iran’s marzbans who took his side,Who girded up their loins and joined his pride,

When you have conquered, do not hesitate;Then cleave them through the waist: that is their fate.

All foes of the great monarch’s crown and nameAre rightly thrown to the nahangs in shame.

Besides these, all who bear me secret hate,The seed of Ahriman, corrupt in state,

Have cast aside each gift our bounty made;Nushzad has shown how kindness is repaid.

They served us once as watchmen of the crown,And feared our penalties when law came down.

Those onlookers who railed against my son,And wagged their tongues at what the youth had done,

Know that in cursing him they cursed us too,And from their rancor fresh disorder grew.

Do not behave as foemen in this case;Though he is lost, our blood is in his face.

Such is the truthful witness of my heart;Let no man from this measured law depart.

Whoever spoke against him out of spite,Or dealt with him unjustly in men’s sight,

Brand that man’s tongue before the gathered crowd,So none may wrong my royal son aloud.

Who waits in hope to see the coming hourWhen failing strength diminishes our power,

Then turns to malice, treachery, and hate,And Ahriman’s dark ways against the state,

Must find no warrant in this realm of mine,Where crown and royal face and Glory shine.”

They sealed the letter; then the courier sped,To Ram Barzin, just as the Shah had said.

He handed Ram Barzin the Shah’s command,Which told him how to deal with Nushzad’s band.

It bade him levy troops and take the field,And banish softness, and refuse to yield.

The old man read the letter and then heardThe messenger recount the royal word.

At cockcrow from the palace portal brokeThe tymbals’ din, and all the city woke.

From Madain’s gates a mighty army came,And Ram Barzin led on to war and fame.

News reached Nushzad; he called and paid his men,And gathered all who served his banner then.

The Christian prelates and the chiefs of RumAll gathered from their marches, plume on plume.

They joined with Shammas, chosen for command,Their hands blood-stained in battles through the land.

From Nushzad’s portal rose a mighty shout;The army surged like storm-tossed seas throughout.

They poured out from the city to the plain,Their minds on war, their hearts on wrath and pain.

When Ram Barzin beheld their rising cloud,He blew the karnays, and his ranks stood proud.

The dust, the charging chiefs in jowshan scale,The brandished gorzes made the hard rocks quail.

They rent the hearts of flint; no eye had sightOf the sun’s face beneath the dust of fight.

Within the center of his armed array,Nushzad put on his Roman helm that day.

The Christian prelates filled his ranks; the groundWas lost beneath the horse-hoofs all around.

The earth beneath their trampling seemed to boil,While shrieking air recoiled above the soil.

A warrior jowshan-clad, Pirooz the old,Came forth and spoke his counsel, brave and bold:

“O famed Nushzad, who turned your head from right?Why seek this ruin and this reckless fight?

Contend not with the army of the king,Or bitter sorrow from the deed will spring.

You have forsworn the faith of ancient days,Kioumars, Hushang, Tahmuras, and their ways.

Christ, the deceiver, met a death of shameBecause he left the faith of God’s own name.

Choose not, among the founders of belief,The one whose error brought him death and grief.

If God’s own farr had truly shone in him,How could the Jews have made his power dim?

You heard what Anooshirvan, your sire,Brought down on Caesar’s realm with sword and fire.

Yet now against that father you conspireTo seize his crown, consumed by vain desire.

For all your moonlike face and royal grace,Your stature, limbs, the gorz your strong hands brace,

I see no wisdom dwelling in your mind;A dark soul drives you, reckless, rash, and blind.

Woe for your head, your crown, your name and birth,Which now you cast away upon the earth.

For any son to seek his father’s reignWhile he still lives; what justice can he gain?

To seek the crown if he is dead is well;To fight him living opens gates of hell.

Though you may roar like lion in command,You cannot match the Shah of Iran’s land.

Though in the courts of ancient kings I knewNo bridle-hand to match what yours could do,

Nor foot and stirrup, breast and neck so fair,Nor such a gorz raised high in battle air,

And though no painter out of China drewA prince whose strength and beauty rivaled you,

Do not scorch Anooshirvan’s soul through wrong,Nor dim the crown that lights the world for long.

Dismount, ask quarter of the Shah today,And cast your gorz and Roman helm away.

Then if, much later, some cold blast should spreadDark dust across the beauty of your head,

The Shah’s own heart would burn for you in pain,The very sun would weep above the plain.

Sow not the seed of enmity through earth;Such strife does not befit a prince’s birth.

If you reject the counsel I provide,And trust your force, your arrogance, your pride,

The warning of old Pirooz will remain,And all your counselors will speak in vain.”

Nushzad replied, “Your words I now disdain;Seek me no quarter from the royal train.

These warriors are exalted men of fame;I am the Shah’s own son and bear his name.

The faith of Anooshirvan is none of mine;My heart inclines where Mother’s light shall shine.

She holds with steadfast heart to Christ’s own creed;I will not leave the faith she chose to heed.

Though Christ, its Founder, suffered death, God’s farrStill lit His face, exalted as a star.

That Holy One passed from this world to God;He found no glory in the dust He trod.

I may be slain, yet death I do not fear;For such a bane no nush-daru is near.”

He answered old Pirooz in words of flame,Then veiled the air with shafts that thickly came.

The warriors advanced; the karnays cried,And battle-roars went up on every side.

Nushzad spurred on, a blaze amid the fight,Like Azargashasp’s fire in all its might.

He broke the left wing of the royal force,And none could stand against his headlong course.

He slew full many lions of the field,And forced the stoutest warriors there to yield.

Then Ram Barzin, grown wrathful, gave commandTo rain down arrows from Iran’s armed band.

They filled the air as springtime hailstones fall,And battle’s clamor thundered over all.

The din of war rose fiercely from each side,Where all the valiant soldiers clashed and died.

Nushzad was wounded in that bitter fray,Pirooz’s counsel haunted him that day.

In pain he reached the center of his line,An arrow pierced him; his face lost its shine.

He said then to the warriors of Rum,“To fight one’s sire brings shame and final doom.

To war against one’s father breeds despair;No noble heart should such a treason dare.”

Bewailing, near the borderland of death,He called a bishop with his failing breath.

He told the bishop all within his heart,And charged him with the words he must impart.

“This darkened age has brought its wrongs to bearThrough my own deeds, and left me in despair.

Now, since my head will pass beneath the dust,Send Mother a swift horseman she can trust.

Say this to her: ‘Nushzad has left this world;The scroll of right and wrong has now been furled.

I pray you, do not grieve at heart for me;Such is the world’s old law and its decree.

Since dark fate marked for me this final day,How could my heart find joy in mortal clay?

All living creatures enter life to die;Grieve not for me, since mortal too am I.

It is not death that most torments your son,But my sire’s wrath for all that I have done.

Raise me no dakhmeh, set no royal throne,Nor waste long toil upon my flesh and bone.

Give me a Christian burial instead;Let Christian rites be spoken for the dead.

I need no camphor, musk, or fragrant store;An arrow struck me down; I am no more.’”

He sealed his lips; thus Nushzad passed away,A noble, lion-hearted prince, that day.

When all his troops had heard their prince was slain,They broke and fled across the blood-soaked plain.

When Ram Barzin learned how Nushzad had died,He went in tears and knelt down at his side.

The troops ceased slaying on the field of fight,And neither cheered nor plundered in delight.

They saw the prince laid low in mortal woe,His royal name made dark by overthrow.

His head lay on a Roman bishop’s breast;The field with wailing gave the dead no rest.

Ram Barzin, troubled deeply by the sight,Asked what the prince had spoken in his plight.

“What were the prince’s wishes at the end?”He asked the bishop, speaking as a friend.

The bishop said, “None but his mother’s eyeMust see his head exposed beneath the sky.

When wounded by the shaft, he gave commandThat royal rites and perfumes be all banned.

No coronet, no Roman brocade shown;He knew a slave’s dark lot was now his own.

His mother now will shroud him with due care,And lay him by the Christian rite and prayer.

His soul is one with Christ’s, beyond all pain,Though on no cross this wounded prince was slain.”

Of all the Christians dwelling in that land,Not one but tore his face with grieving hand.

From all that country rose a keening wail;The men and women, round the bier, grew pale.

They raised that gallant prince’s lifeless frame,The Shah’s own heart and light, his grief and shame.

They bore his coffin onward, hand by hand,For three farsangs across the mourning land.

His mother heard; her crown fell to the ground;Unveiled she came, with grief and anguish bound.

A crowd assembled in the marketplace,All mourning with the dust upon each face.

They raised a tent to shield her from the crowd;Dust on their heads, the mourners wept aloud.

They laid him in the earth, bereft of breath;From wind he came and passed at last to death.

Gund-e-Shapur wept bitterly that day;The Shah’s heartache consumed them with dismay.

Why struggle in the bonds of greed and gain,When well you know you cannot long remain?

Seek your escape; the world’s rose hides a bane.Do not breathe deep its scent, nor court its pain.

From faith and righteousness do not depart,Lest God’s own wrath descend upon your heart.

On hearing this, draw back your heart from grief;Feed not its fire, but let it find relief.

If you possess a cup, then drink your fill,And count it neither sin nor deed of ill.

Seek joy and mirth, but keep your senses clear;Let words of wisdom find a willing ear.

If love for Ali in your heart should stay,He pleads for you upon the Judgment Day.

Now may the world’s king prosper all his days,And keep these words in mind along his ways.

May Mahmud, king whose deeds are crowned with praise,Find lasting room in every heart that prays.

Love ever shines from his God-given farr;His crown upholds the heavens, star by star.

And when these words have reached his royal ear,May his good favor bring me comfort here.

Now in Bozorgmehr’s tale we shall revealA brighter face than grief and battle steel.

Do not dismiss the visions of the night;They share in prophecy’s revealing light,

Most of all when such visions come to kings,Whose lucid spirits touch on hidden things.

The stars, the sky, and moon together shareTheir whispered secrets through the heavenly air.

Clear souls in dreams behold the future plain,As fire is mirrored in a watery pane.

One night wise Anooshirvan, spirit bright,Lay down to sleep and dreamed before the light.

Before the throne a royal tree arose,And brought his heart a joy like springtime’s rose.

The vision filled the monarch with delight;He called for wine and music at the sight.

Yet on his throne of joy and peace there satA sharp-tusked boar upon the royal mat.

It drank from Anooshirvan’s cup the wine,And dared to share the monarch’s feast divine.

When Taurus held the sun and larks sang clear,The Shah awoke disturbed by dream-born fear.

They called the dream-interpreters to court,And nobles gathered to receive report.

The Shah described the vision he had seenTo Mobadan and counselors, all keen.

No interpreter gave answer that day;No ancient lore could guide what he should say.

Who owns his ignorance may stand excused;Yet Anooshirvan stayed deeply confused.

The Shah, his sages silenced, sat and weighedWhat he should do, with eyes in care’s dark shade.

He sent to every quarter mage on mage,Each keen and watchful, shrewd of heart, and sage.

He gave each envoy silver for the quest,To find a man whose knowledge stood the test.

Ten thousand silver coins each was to bear,To find the one who could the dream declare,

Some man of understanding, some adept,Who knew the mysteries where secrets slept.

The solver’s prize would be the silver hoard;The Shah would earn their thanks for that reward.

So forth to search each veteran Mobad went,A prudent man on royal errand sent.

One chief among them, Azad Sarv by name,Came into Marv to seek a sage of fame.

He passed the town and saw a learned mage,Who taught the sacred book from page to page.

With anger, harshness, and a lifted voice,He drilled the boys and gave them little choice.

One pupil, well advanced in sacred lore,Was Bozorgmehr, intent to learn still more.

He studied lovingly the sacred roll,With open mind and clear aspiring soul.

Then Azad Sarv drew near and checked his rein,And asked who might the royal dream explain.

The teacher said, “This task is not for me;The Zand-Avesta guides what I can see.

I teach these children, but I do not dareTo speak of matters past my proper care.”

But Bozorgmehr, who heard the envoy ask,Spoke blushing: “Mine to answer is this task.

Its hidden meaning I can make quite plain;Before the Shah, the truth I will explain.”

His teacher cried, “Have you your roll by heart?What pride has made you claim so high a part?

How dare you claim interpreter’s commandBefore you hold the sacred text in hand?”

“You read dreams well,” he mocked. “Your stomach’s needHas shaped the prophecies you claim to read.”

The envoy said, “O learned man, refrain;Perhaps this youth has skill within his brain.

His Fortune may have raised his inward sightBeyond the reach of all your learning’s light.”

The master, angry, cried, “Then speak your thought;Tell what you know and show the skill you brought.”

The youth replied, “I will not speak the thingUntil I stand before the world’s great king.”

The envoy gave him money, horse, and gear,Provision for the road, and words of cheer.

They left Marv’s gates in fellowship and glee,Like pheasants through rose-beds, proud and free.

They spoke about the Shah, his crown and state,His power, farr, and Fortune high and great.

When food and rest were due, they reached a placeWith water, trees, and shadow’s calm embrace.

Beneath broad boughs, they left their mounts to eat,Then rested quietly in that retreat.

While Bozorgmehr slept, sheltered by the bough,His mantle drawn across his face and brow,

His noble guide, still wakeful, saw with dreadA snake draw back the mantle from his head.

It sniffed him closely, down from head to feet,Then climbed the tree and left the shaded seat.

When that black serpent scaled the tree-stem high,The youth awoke and looked with troubled eye.

The serpent saw him wake and start in fear,Then vanished through the shadowed branches near.

The envoy, struck with wonder and with awe,Called down God’s name upon the youth he saw.

He thought, “This wise young man will rise to fame;Great Fortune surely gathers round his name.”

They left the wood and reached the royal court;The envoy gave the monarch his report.

He said, “May Fortune keep you young in reign,O Shah whose crown gives light to Iran’s plain.

I went from court to Marv and searched, as stalksA pheasant, stepping down the garden walks.

Among the sages I have found a youth,And brought him here in haste to tell the truth.”

He told what Bozorgmehr had claimed, and howThe serpent sniffed him and went up the bough.

The great Shah called the youth and told the dream;He listened, pondering its hidden theme.

He answered, “In your bower is concealedA youth in woman’s dress, not yet revealed.

Now put all strangers forth and clear the place;Let none observe the purpose of this case.

Command your ladies all to pass your sight,With measured tread before the throne’s full light.

Then I will ask that daring man to sayHow he entered the lion’s den that day.”

The Shah put strangers forth and closed the hall,Then called the women from their chambers all.

They came in perfume, color, grace, and pride,And passed with modest steps before his side.

Those jasmine-breathing beauties, fair to see,Passed by; no man among them seemed to be.

Then Anooshirvan, lion-like, enraged,Saw no proof yet of what the youth had gauged.

The interpreter said, “This is not so;A hidden youth has passed me by, I know.

Command them all to strip their faces bare,And let each woman pass beneath your stare.”

The Shah then bade his eunuchs bring the trainBefore his throne, their faces bare and plain.

They passed again; though all had mocked the dream,A hidden youth emerged within the stream.

Cypress-tall, with a kingly form and face,He trembled like a willow in that place.

Within the monarch’s bower could be seenSeventy girls, each noble as a queen.

One ivory-cheeked girl in that fair trainWas the Chakh-warden’s daughter from the plain.

That jasmine-faced and musk-perfumed young manHad loved her since their life at home began.

Wherever she had gone, he followed still,And served her like a slave through love and will.

The Shah asked her, “Who is this daring youth,Concealed within my bower against all truth?

Who is this youth, so cherished by my slave,Who came where only death rewards the brave?”

She said, “My younger brother stands with me;One mother, different fathers; such are we.

No wrong has passed between us, Shah of might;He wore this dress from modesty and fright.

He dared not raise his eyes to meet your face;Do not turn shame to cause for his disgrace.”

The Shah knew well her words were false and vain;Her empty claim increased his grief and pain.

He frowned in wrath upon the pair in shame,Then called the executioner by name.

He said in wrath, “Let dust conceal the two”;They dragged them past the curtains, out of view.

They hanged them in his bower by command,A warning to the people of the land.

The Shah gave Bozorgmehr rich robes and steeds,With silver, awed by all his knowing deeds.

They wrote his name upon the royal roll,A guide to Mobadan, in mind and soul.

His fame grew bright; the turning heavens smiled,And Fortune favored this discerning child.

Each day his fortune rose to greater height;The Shah watched all his progress with delight.

His heart was filled with justice, thought, and art;The noble Shah was wise in mind and heart.

At court he kept the Mobadan and sages,Men deeply versed in knowledge through the ages.

Three score and ten, all eloquent and wise,Were lodged and fed beneath his watchful eyes.

When justice, bounty, feasting, or the fightDid not demand his care from dawn till night,

He questioned them and made their learning known,And decked his heart with wisdom from their own.

Though Bozorgmehr was young, his speech was clear;In shrewdness and in beauty none came near.

He learned from Mobadan, readers of skies,And all the learned men the Shah held wise.

He passed beyond their learning and their fame,And none in starry knowledge matched his name.

In healing arts his mastery stood apart,And statecraft too lay open to his heart.

Of manners, rule, and statecraft, all he knewHe spoke with ready skill and insight true.

One day the board was spread; the Shah decreed,“Let all the learned Mobadan proceed.

Bring men who question, eloquent and wise,The prudent, those who watch with searching eyes.”

The vigilant Mobadan came to dineWith chiefs whose names for learning brightly shine.

They feasted well, then called for wine and drank,Till lifted spirits rose through every rank.

The prudent Shah addressed those men of lore:“Display the hidden knowledge in your store.

Let each man here whose heart and mind can speakDisclose the wisdom that my ears now seek.”

The wise and bold, all masters of discourse,Let eloquence pour forth with learning’s force.

Each sage in turn spoke as the Shah desired,While knowledge filled the hall and hearts were fired.

When Bozorgmehr had heard their learned art,And saw the Shah held wisdom dear at heart,

He rose, bowed low, and said, “O righteous king,May earth submit beneath your crown and ring.

May heaven shine with Fortune’s light for you;Permit your slave to speak what he knows true.

Though I am least in knowledge and in worth,I too will speak before the lord of earth.

No wise man merits blame for words that bringHis knowledge into view before the king.”

The monarch looked upon the youth and said,“What cause has knowledge to conceal its head?”

The youth at once displayed his learning’s light;His lucid speech made all the court grow bright.

His eloquence and counsel held each heart;The Mobadan all marveled at his art.

He praised Yazdan first, Lord above us all,Then spoke his counsel in the royal hall:

“One whose clear mind is disciplined and wellSays much in little, more than long tongues tell.

The hasty-minded speak in ceaseless flow;Their understanding follows, weak and slow.

When empty talk pours forth without an end,The speaker’s worth and standing both descend.

Seek worth, not mere increase; both life and breathAre fleeting, and we journey toward death.

If all our days endured and did not cease,The claimants to this world would much increase.

To live humanely is the noblest art;In this, your knowledge plays no useless part.

True knowledge of Yazdan gives right its base;To know, yet fear Him not, is a disgrace.

Our inward light is owed to righteous ways;We weep for fraud and wrong and darkened days.

Each heart is ruled by passions of its own;Each temperament by outward signs is known.

Learn how each temperament directs the mind,And shape your conduct to the traits you find.

Those foremost in affairs still seek for more,And labor onward through each open door.

The wise man’s body lives on earth below;His heart is of the world to which we go.

Vex not yourself for what cannot be gained;It wears the body and leaves spirit pained.

The strong man acts directly, straight, and plain;From weakness spring deceit and falsehood’s stain.

When knowledge fails, no jewel can compareWith silence, which is best for you to wear.

But if your learning swells into conceit,Dispute will bring your wisdom to defeat.

Rich is the man whom greed has never bound;Blessed is he whom craving does not hound.

Forbearance is wise judgment’s brother still;And wisdom crowns the soul and guides the will.

A wise man, though your foe, does you less illThan any fool who bears you fond goodwill.

The man content is rich in every part;He bars both greed and care from out his heart.

Give ear to sages if you seek to learn,And for humility let your heart yearn.

When counsel rules with mastery and skill,Men act with steadiness and steadfast will.

Let him who lacks true knowledge wisely keepHis tongue in silence, like a thing asleep.

When wealth is yours, with silver, gold, and steeds,Shun stinginess and excess in your deeds.

Choose moderation; let your constant guideBe rectitude, with justice at your side.

The wise man keeps his enemies afar,And makes them servants underneath his star.

Who gives his own self all that is its dueHas won the fight; accept this judgment true.

Speak no vain words; when empty phrases rise,They yield but smoke and sorrow to the wise.

Do not pursue what cannot come to pass;No water serves to pierce an iron mass.

A king, if learned, is humble all the same,Though knowledge makes him powerful in name.

Who comprehends the handiwork of GodHas crossed beyond where Fortune’s ills have trod.

He serves God more, rejects the Div’s design,And keeps from acts where shame and sin combine.

Afflict not those who should not suffer pain,But turn to God when final judgments reign.

He is our Nourisher, our Fosterer still;All souls are guarded by His sovereign will.”

At Bozorgmehr’s fine speech, the sages allGrew fresh of face within the royal hall.

The gathering marveled at his wisdom’s height,And at a youth whose greatness shone so bright.

The great Shah marveled too at what he heard,And called his paymasters to hear his word.

He bade them place his name first on the roll;Like sunlight, Fortune brightened all his soul.

They rose before the Shah to bless the youth,Whose words had shown such wisdom and such truth.

They questioned him on all that he had said,For wisdom filled his heart and ruled his head.

The youth then loosed his tongue, pure-hearted, bright,And ardent-souled, he spoke with inward light:

“We must not even inwardly departFrom that just king who judges every heart.

He is the shepherd, and his people sheep;We are the earth; his place is heaven’s deep.

We must not break our loyalty or strayFrom his command, his ordinance, his way.

When he rejoices, we should share his cheer,And render all his dues with hearts sincere.

Spread through the world the Shah’s great name and worth,But keep his secrets guarded on the earth.

Presume not on his favor or his place;Even lions shrink before the fire’s face.

A mountain scorning what the Shah commandsIs foolish-hearted, empty where it stands.

Both good and evil from the monarch spring;Bonds, pits, and crowns and thrones come from the king.

The crowned head bears the farr that God bestows,And from that farr the wise man’s gladness flows.

Who takes no joy in this, in heart and mind,Serves Ahriman; to wisdom he is blind.”

They heard the youth, and weary hearts revived;And strength returned; their flagging spirits thrived.

With mouths and tongues all praising what they heard,That mighty gathering left upon his word.

A week had passed; the king, with heart alight,Called sages in for counsel and insight.

He set the world’s affairs aside that day,To hear what men of knowledge had to say.

He summoned those deemed worthy of the court,Approved for learning and for wise report.

They came, both youths and elders tried by age,With men of wisdom, learned page by page.

Young Bozorgmehr came with that learned train,Exalted, clear of heart and bright of brain.

The sages gathered near the royal chair,And turned to Bozorgmehr, whose gifts were rare.

Whenever the Shah beheld that gifted youth,His face grew bright, rejoicing in his truth.

One of the wisest questioned him on fate:“What are its traits, and who ordained its state?”

He answered, “One may toil through every hour,And strive with all his wisdom, all his power,

Yet find his livelihood a scanty flow,The water in his channel running slow.

A fool may rest where fairest fortunes shone,While roses scatter round him newly blown.

Such is the lot that Fortune may ordain;No toil can break the bounds of its domain.

The All-wise Lord, the Nourisher of men,Has shaped the star that moves beyond our ken.”

Another asked, “What man attains high place?In whom does greatness show its noble face?”

He said, “The man whose learning leads the way,Who puts it to good use from day to day.”

Another asked, “What virtues make men good?Who wins the world’s gifts as a noble should?”

He answered, “Gentleness and open hands,A generous heart that courtesy commands.

The humble man who bows both head and heart,And gives, expecting nothing for his part.

He toils, and by his labor proves his worth,And walks in fellowship upon the earth.”

Another asked, “What virtue marks the sageWhen quarrels flare and anger takes the stage?”

He answered, “He who sees his own faults clear,And mends the ways he once had held so dear.”

Another asked, “What makes a person’s wayMore bearable throughout the passing day?”

He answered, “When a patient wisdom glows,Then gladness through the inward chamber flows.

Then one will give and take by honest scale,And bar the door where fraud and lies prevail.

He pardons faults when power is in his hand,And does not let hot anger rule the land.”

Another asked, “Among the folk, what manIs best at self-command in life’s brief span?”

He said, “The man who lets no craving leadHis heart away from any worthy deed,

And he who will not falter at his task,Though bitter days still greater effort ask.”

Another said, “Is anything on earthMore excellent than bounty joined with worth?

Whose deeds bear fruit in both worlds, rich and clear,As though two springs should blossom in one year?”

He answered, “One whose generous heart, when asked,Gives freely, with no selfish purpose masked.

But he who makes the taker feel a debtIs trading for the thanks he hopes to get.”

One asked, “What ornaments become a man,And which is noblest in life’s measured span?”

He said, “Who gives to those deserving careGrows like a lofty cypress, fresh and fair.

But one unworthy, though in musk he lies,Will never send sweet fragrance to the skies.

No rose will blossom from a withered thorn;No fragrance from that barren wood is born.”

Another said, “Within this mortal life,No sage escapes its sorrow and its strife.

How should we act to win a noble name,And start and end our lives with worthy fame?”

He answered, “Keep from sin; let all you seeBe treated as you too would wish to be.

What you dislike, impose on none below,Not on a faithful friend, nor on a foe.”

Another asked, “Of thought and strenuous deed,Which should we choose, and which should take the lead?”

He answered, “Thought is wisdom’s proper art;When work confronts you, toil with all your heart.”

“If some deserve our tears for deeds of blame,”Another asked, “who earns an honored name?”

He answered, “He whose heart holds evermoreHope, fear, and awe before God’s holy door.”

Another said, “O man of wisdom, say:Of all that heaven sends upon our way,

Beneath this lofty canopy’s unrest,What destiny for me would be the best?”

That eloquent one answered, “He is blessedWho is secure and from all need at rest.

Since Fortune has been just in what it gives,Let justice guide him all the days he lives.”

Another asked, “What knowledge should I gainTo live in happiness and lessen pain?”

He answered, “Learn patience from the manWho scorns the insolent in life’s brief span,

Whose mind is never stirred by anger’s heat,And pardons others’ faults with patience sweet.”

Another asked, “What man, O learned sage,Wins wise approval in each testing age?”

He said, “The man who nurtures wisdom’s light,And will not let misfortune cloud his sight.

When dust receives the loved one he held fast,He will not bind his heart to sorrows past.

He seeks no fruit upon a willow tree,Nor hopes for things that never come to be.”

Another asked, “What faults in kings are known,That make wise men lament, and grieve, and groan?”

He answered, “Wise men count four faults as clear:The first is fear when battle’s foe draws near.

The second, grudging what his hands bestow;The third, spurning wise counsel near the foe.

The fourth, a restless haste that will not cease,Nor grant his busy mind repose and peace.”

Another asked, “What man is free from blame?What flaws in noble men deserve that name?”

Bozorgmehr said, “I shall set these faults clear,With wisdom as my guide to judge them here.

For men of rank, deceit and lies are shame;So is injustice practiced for acclaim.

And worse, the violent man who lives in strife,Abusive, with contention filling life.

A mind debased that longs to seize the helm,And needlessly the pious overwhelm.”

Another asked, “What traits preserve a man,And keep him safe through life’s uncertain span?”

He answered, “Truthful speech makes conduct sound;His counsels rest upon that solid ground.

He shuns a shameless tongue, a brazen eye,Nor trades his gentle speech for an angry cry.

Best is the sage who counts it foul and baseTo banish wisdom, giving passion place.”

Another sage inquired, “Who lives secure,And keeps his household safe, his purpose sure?

Who tends his life, benefits kin and friend,And brings his labors to a guarded end?”

He answered, “He who from the first has knownThe path to holy God and made it his own:

The Source of thanks, the Refuge and the Guide,Lord of the sun and moon, and all beside.

He must obey the Shah with loyal heart,In public and in private, in each part.

His body’s happiness must be his care;He must bar greed and all its bleak despair.

He must care for his kin and feed the poor,And find his children teachers, wise and pure.

The world must not be left to foolish hands;Its care requires a mind that understands.

When sons accept instruction and obey,Their fathers should show kindness in their way.”

Another asked, “What place should good sons claimWithin their father’s heart and honored name?”

He answered, “In his father’s loving eyes,A noble son is life beneath the skies.

The father’s name abides when he is dead,Because the son says, ‘Thus my father led.’”

Another asked, “What grace in wealth is seen,That it may make the heart more fair and clean?”

He said, “Men honor those whose coffers teem,And hold the needy man in low esteem.

Much good attends on wealth; do not despiseThese gifts, for I speak plainly to the wise.

First, wealth can bring the things your heart desires;Its use reveals the good your soul inspires.

Next, hoarded wealth, kept hidden from the sun,Makes stone and royal jewels all as one.”

Another asked, “Among the kings renowned,With lofty crown and fame spread all around,

Whom do you call the best?” The youth replied,“The king with whom the good can safe abide.

The wicked quake to hear his voice resound;Beneath his rule the earth rests firm and sound.”

Another asked, “Who lives in wealth secure?And who must poverty’s distress endure?”

He said, “The man content with what God givesIs rich indeed and truly knows he lives.

But when contentment fails before our need,No poverty weighs heavier than greed.”

The famous men sat wondering at each thought,And praised the answers Bozorgmehr had brought.

With one consent they lauded that young sage,Whose wisdom filled the court and crowned the age.

A week had passed; the eighth day’s dawning lightFound the triumphant Shah enthroned and bright.

He summoned all the men of understanding,The wise and eloquent in courtly standing.

They spoke at length, but none the Shah could please;He turned toward Bozorgmehr for wisdom’s keys.

He said, “Lift up your modest face and speak;Let wisdom show the truth that sages seek.”

That fluent sage released his tongue with art,And showed the varied learning of his heart.

He blessed the Shah and said, “May crown and headBe victorious while your foes know dread.

None will become great in this world of strife,Unless he shuns the road of harm in life.

If you would rise through knowledge into height,Let wisdom guide your words with ordered light.

In quest of fame, a man must brave his age;The world rejects the faintheart from its stage.

If you seek the throne, accomplishments must grow;A green bough should bear fruit in season’s flow.

When asked what merit he can truly claim,Let no man answer with his lineage’s fame.

For noble birth alone brings no acclaim;Without true merit, lineage sinks to shame.

A wise man said about this very thing:‘If roses give no scent, praise not their spring.

Speak not of color where no fragrance lies;No man seeks water where the fire will rise.’

A king is richer through his open hand,Not through the treasure hidden in his land.

If you claim worth, let deeds support your claim;Let action give your spoken words their name.

The man of wisdom bears a humble mind;And heaven feeds the wisdom there enshrined.

The simple-hearted man is happy too,For he keeps far from all that is untrue.

Here wisdom is a trusty tree that grows;The king’s heart seeks the bounty it bestows.

Contentment brings the heart a life of ease;But greed brings fear that nothing can appease.

Do not reproach a man with favors done;Such taunts may lose the good reward you won.

Good Fortune favors those of open heart;Blessed is he who bears with patient art.

If any man would rise, he must possessThe means by which his labors win success.

First, counsel joined to learning must appear;Second, ripe experience must be near.

Third, friends must aid him when his deeds begin,And weigh all chances, loss and hope to win.

They must be useful afterward in peace,And when the times of peril never cease.

Fourth, rectitude and wisdom must be shown,To cleanse the heart where fraud and lies have grown.

Fifth, if you have the strength, then work and strive;Through labor only does true greatness thrive.

The strong, unless they labor, never gainThe height of their desires through joy or pain.

Yet excessive toil will end in sorrow;Despair will cast its shadow on tomorrow.

I will set forth five virtues of the sage,Which keep him safe through trouble’s testing age.

I will tell seven faults the fool displays;No marvel if they vex him all his days.

First, loss cannot consume the wise man’s mind;He grieves not for what he must leave behind.

He does not count on what he has not gained;By hopes not met, his heart is never pained.

He hopes not for the thing that cannot be,Nor says, ‘The willow-bough will fruit for me.’

When free from toil and sickness for a while,He guards against the thorns beneath Fate’s smile.

Thus when time brings hardship to his door,He stands prepared and slackens nevermore.

The fool’s way, as I said, is sevenfold:His wrath against the innocent is bold.

His treasure opens to the worthless hand,Without reward or service in the land.

Third, God receives no thanks for all His grace;The fool cannot discern his own true face.

Fourth, he reveals his secrets to them all;Fifth, through foolish words he earns his fall.

Sixth, he puts faith in those the wise mistrust,And seeks fine silk from thorns and desert dust.

Last, he will lie when argument is raised,And hopes his insolence will be well praised.

Know this, exalted sovereign of the land:From such a fool comes harm on every hand.

A man who keeps his silence in the crowdFinds rest of heart while others speak aloud.

By hearing one whose speech is wise and true,You feed the mind and give the heart clear view.

Forget not words of wisdom you have known;For speech itself can crown the royal throne.

If you would make your knowledge bear its fruit,Share wisdom’s jewel with those in its pursuit.

If you would spread your fame, unsheathe your speech,And let your tongue extend its royal reach.

But sit in council with the foolish kind,And baser counsel will subdue the mind.

By knowledge soul and heart are both illumed;Seek not false ways where truth will be consumed.

When someone speaks, let patience rule your heart;Await his end before your own words start.

You may gain wisdom from what speech has taught,And later speak the knowledge you have caught.

Use not your wisdom as a road to gain,Though learning bring you hardship, toil, and pain.

Through learning, Fortune’s gifts may come to hand,And roads to ease lie open where you stand.

When heart and tongue agree in truth and right,The door of loss is barred and sealed from sight.

May Anooshirvan’s heart forever yearnFor knowledge, never grow too weak to learn.”

A wise Mobad of subtle intellectAsked what good things a man should most respect:

“What gives a person luster in the world,And frees him from the troubles time has hurled?”

He said, “Whoever wisdom would attainWill bear in both worlds fruit that shall remain.”

“But if he has no wisdom?” asked the sage,“Since wisdom is God’s robe in every age?”

Said Bozorgmehr, “Then knowledge is the best;The learned are mighty where the mighty rest.”

“But if he never sought that stream,” one cried,“And never bathed the soul that lives inside?”

Then Bozorgmehr replied, “The warrior boldMust count his body cheap as common mold.

If he strives bravely on the battle-day,And casts his foemen’s heads upon the clay,

The king will hold him dear and grant him grace,With joy and power in an honored place.”

“But if one is not valiant,” said the sage,“Nor seeks for knowledge, law, or faith with age?”

Then Bozorgmehr replied, “It would be wellIf death’s dark helm upon his forehead fell.”

Another asked, “How shall we act to gainThe fruit and shade of wisdom’s springtime plain?

How may we taste the fruit upon that tree,And walk beneath its shade from trouble free?”

Said Bozorgmehr, “The man who bars his tongueFrom evil words keeps soul and spirit young.

He wounds no other heart with bitter speech;Thus peace with all the folk remains in reach.

All troubles will be smoothed along his way;Both friend and foe will soften through his day.”

Another said, “The man who turns from illIs great, and worthy of our honor still.”

Thus Bozorgmehr replied, “An evil deedIs like a tree that bears an evil seed.

If one speaks gently with a measured tongue,Few harsh replies against his ear are flung.

For now the tongue is what most troubles men;If you would live at ease, weigh words again.

The loyal man whose words are few and trueHolds place before the throne, with honor due.

Moreover he escapes the coming net,As beast or bird escapes the hunter’s threat.

Though he has power to harm, he holds it bound;In such restraint true wisdom may be found.

He spares the blameless, leaves misdeeds behind,And lets no good escape his watchful mind.

He counts no future day as his to claim;He watches foes more keenly than wild game.

He cleaves to friends like shaft and feather bound;In faithful union each with each is found.

For any pleasure ending soon in grief,The wise man has scant trust in such relief.

Put ease and indolence afar from you;Take pains, make toil a feast in all you do.

Without true toil, no increase will appear;No treasure waits for sloth in any year.

May this world flourish under this great king;May youthful Fortune round his kingship spring.”

They spoke at length upon this noble theme,And woke the drowsy hearts from clouded dream.

The sages blessed him, praised the Shah’s great ways,Then went rejoicing, filled with royal praise.

Two weeks had passed; the Shah withdrew one dayFrom army business, which he put away.

He called the Mobadan, lords, and sagesWho filled the palace, ranked by worth and ages.

He asked of lineage and learning’s worth,Of wrath and calm, of justice on the earth.

He asked of intellect, of Fortune’s gifts,Of kingship, and the way her favor shifts.

He drew each learned man into debate,And laid before them doubts of heavy weight.

Each spoke according to the wisdom won,Yet none could please the Shah when all was done.

Then to Bozorgmehr he turned his face:“Bring out the jewel hidden in its place.”

Bozorgmehr praised him first, then answered low:“O king whose tranquil heart lets justice grow,

No monarch like you lives beneath the sky,No crown has lifted royal fame so high.

In justice, counsel, Fortune, throne, and might,No diadem has shone with purer light.

How fair a pious king who reins desire,And keeps his heart as clean as temple fire.

When judging, let him fear God’s searching sight,And let no pride or favor change that right.

He makes sound wisdom rule his heart and bloodWhen wrath would rise and swell in fiery flood.

A monarch’s thoughts must never turn awayFrom Him who judges all on Judgment Day.

From God he knows both good and ill must flow,And seeks the garden where the righteous go.

A truthful tongue and reverence bring fame,And make the world speak honor through his name.

No work is better than a truthful deed;No finer jewel can serve a ruler’s need.

Serene in speech, in judgment just and fair,He should give every rank its proper share.

Let none who live within his jurisdictionBe ruined or subjected to affliction.

While kings hold sages close, the crown grows bright;But fools drag royal honor out of sight.

A king who learns from every branch of lorePreserves the royal farr he held before.

Guard well the court and all its daily care,To thwart the ill that enemies prepare.

Let none sleep wronged within the king’s domain,Lest one such grievance turn to royal pain.

The guilty man should meet the law’s stern blowBefore his vice can lay the blameless low.

Remove the base-born and the ill-disposed,Lest harmless lives be troubled and exposed.

All captives held within the royal gate,The guilty and the guiltless, wait on fate.

Release them by the ordinance divine,As Zand-Avesta marks the sacred line.

But if a man is black with crime and blame,Let earth find peace by blotting out his name.

For while the wicked man is left alive,He ruins homes and makes disorder thrive.

The Shah must cherish faith and what is rightAs long as he remains the realm’s high light.

His public acts and all his private careMust purge the world of evil everywhere.

The king who keeps his troops in firm controlWill hear no suppliant’s grief from any soul.

If on your foes you keep a wary eye,Their hostile schemes and hopes will fail and die.

Man every breach before the battle comes;The foeman’s tabira on sleepers thrums.

When blame is fastened on the Shah for wrong,His crown and throne are shamed before the throng.

Increase the love you bear toward your son,Who mirrors your own face, the two made one.

Teach him good sense and wisdom from the start,And seek to pour clear brightness through his heart.

Unlock for him your stores in ample measure;Let him not grieve through want of royal treasure.

And when he reaches out his hand toward wrong,Do not through harshness break a spirit strong.

Recall him gently to the righteous way,And guard him from the first against decay.

If in his heart a hostile seed takes root,Uproot it well before it bears its fruit.

Pluck it at once from his secluded plot,Before its spreading roots engender rot.

For if it stays, it gathers strength and power,And chokes the royal garden, flower by flower.

A ruler blessed with wisdom will not hearMalicious tongues that whisper in his ear.

Through crooked ministers and their corruption,Both crown and kingdom are led to destruction.

Give no fool’s words a hearing or consent;Reject the wrong on which his mind is bent.

Let righteousness be fully shown in you;Clear every crooked impulse from your view.

The only ornament for kings is right;The Div instructs mankind in fraud and spite.

When Shahs give heed to words from wisdom’s school,Their hearts will testify to reason’s rule.

The crown shall bless the king throughout his reign,And empire stand like stone through storm and strain.

Both crown and throne are brighter than a jewel;His foes despair as Fortune turns cruel.

Though turning heaven brings his reign’s decay,His worthy name outlives his mortal day.

May Anooshirvan’s accomplished soul stay youngAs long as day has light and songs are sung.”

When Bozorgmehr had ended all his speech,The gathered sages found him past their reach.

Their counsels, weighed beside his words that day,Seemed lamps grown pale beneath the morning ray.

Anooshirvan heard; his spirit rose in light;His former greatness climbed to greater height.

His eyes grew wet; he bade bright pearls be brought,And filled the sage’s mouth for what he taught.

The gathering’s lips were full of thanks and praise;Then all departed, blessing all his ways.

Seven days had passed; the eighth arose in light,The world-bright sun came blazing out of night.

It cast its lapis robe of darkness down,And dressed the world in gold from plain to town.

The king of kings sat with his learned sages,Mobadan and chiefs renowned through ages.

Came Ardeshir, the Mobadan’s high priest,And Shapur, bidden to the learned feast.

Then Yazdegard the scribe was present too,With star-readers and scholars, wise and true.

The wise, enlightened, eloquent in speechWere placed where royal farr could honor each.

Young Bozorgmehr, accomplished and refined,Came with the fruits of wisdom in his mind.

The Shah addressed the sages gathered near:“What strengthens God’s true Faith and keeps rule clear?

What guards the royal throne from harm and shame,And keeps the empire stainless in its name?”

The High Mobad among the chiefs arose,And loosed his tongue in counsel well composed:

“The justice of the Shah will make farr shine,And crown and throne will brighten by that sign.

When he unlocks his treasury to the poor,His name will live, his memory endure.

Second, let no false word pollute his tongue,Nor let him cheat to have his praises sung.

Third, justice joined with mercy in his reignWill bring the world relief from toil and pain.

Fourth, when a guilty servant pleads his case,Let pardon answer his appeal for grace.

And fifth, his words should make his fame increase,So in this world his name will never cease.

He speaks the truth in every word he gives,And keeps his code of conduct while he lives.

Sixth, let him love the servants of his throneAs dearly as the Fortune he calls his own.

Seventh, though learned, let his words be few,Though skilled to speak of all he ever knew.

He spends his mind in thought and learning’s fire,And never lets his thirst for truth expire.

Through wisdom men find freedom and may rise,As Fortune lifts the favored to the skies.

Do not, O Shah, leave wisdom’s guarded way;It fosters noble fame till the last day.

Base is the fool who boasts with haughty eyesThat none can match him in the ranks of the wise.”

Then Yazdegard the scribe began to speak:“O Shah whom wisdom guides in all you seek,

It ill befits a king to shed men’s blood,Or let small troubles swell into a flood.

When judgment fails, the monarch’s will runs wild;He meddles rashly, heedless as a child.

He quarrels with the learned and the wise,And ignorance casts darkness on his eyes.

When greed has set the monarch’s heart aflame,The Div draws near and shares the work of shame.

A judge whose temper governs every deedWill find his angry ways cannot succeed.

A warrior fearing death but not disgraceIs ill-equipped to take a fighter’s place.

The wealthy man whose heart is mean and smallIs fit for earth to cover over all.

To browbeat one whose poverty is plainBefits no lord; his honor bears the stain.

A guileful elder earns both hate and shame;Beyond this life, his soul will burn in flame.

When youth is slack in service and in deed,Then Fortune’s heart grows sick of such a seed.

His soul will keep no health, no youthful fire;May soul and tongue alike in him expire!”

When Bozorgmehr had heard their counsel through,He clothed his thoughts in wisdom clear and true.

He said, “O Shah whose face is like the sun,May shining heaven bless the course you run.

Know this: the wise sustain their souls with thought;Their inner life is fed by what is taught.

For fools the hearts of stone and mountain mourn,Who look on every other man with scorn.

For none respects the man who cannot knowFame from disgrace, or where beginnings go.

Ten kinds of men earn blame for what they do;The learned judge them more severely too:

The lying judge whom sages will not praise,Whose crooked sentence darkens all his days;

The chief who hoards his treasure, locked away;The soldier shirking hardship day by day;

The sage who knowingly commits a wrongTo seize delight that cannot last for long;

The ailing healer; how can he restoreAnother’s health while sickness fills his door?

The poor man boasting of his meager store,Which hardly merits mention, nothing more;

The base man grudging others rest and sleep,Who would withhold clear water from the deep;

And if a pleasant breeze should reach your face,Would claim your thanks as giver of that grace;

A choleric sage who covets others’ gains,And one who counsels fools and wastes his pains,

Or gives authority to idle hands;They lack all wisdom, spurning its commands.

Those void of wisdom, who will not be taught,Will find their foolish words with sorrow fraught.

My lord, the heart that cannot well discernClings to desires that make its passions burn,

As fire consumes the brimstone it is fed,Or turns to ash the stalks of a reed-bed.

Long live Anooshirvan’s heart; may every lordServe him, the world’s great chiefs in one accord.”

The Shah allowed another week to pass,Then called the court to shine with gold and brass.

He came and took his high and royal seat,His crown and girdle shining, all complete.

The Mobad took his stand upon one flank,As vizier to the king, the first in rank.

Upon the other Yazdegard was placed,The scribe whose records royal deeds embraced.

Around them stood the other men of age,The chiefs, and Bozorgmehr, the speaking sage.

The Shah said, “Why should jewels stay concealed,Those words by which the soul is fed and healed?

They raise the one whom no one prized before,And lift the lowly man to honor more.

The speaker’s treasure suffers no decline,While listeners taste delight from wisdom’s wine.”

The Mobad turned to Bozorgmehr and said:“O man whose fame the turning heavens have spread,

What thing, when more is taken, brings you harm,But less of it gives strength to flesh and arm?”

He answered, “Eating little guards the clay,And feeds the soul along the inward way.

But multiply good deeds in all you do;Then you will leave your rival far from view.”

Then Yazdegard the scribe began to ask:“O eloquent mind, accomplished in your task,

What are three faults concealed within the breast,Though none should keep such guests within his chest?”

He answered, “First, let fault-finding depart;Let no such habit settle in your heart.

No man is free from faults that others find,In public deeds or in his hidden mind.

Next, envy: when another’s honors grow,The envious heart is filled with bitter woe.

The slanderer, a man of double face,Can raise from water dust and dark disgrace.

Who speaks where speech is out of place will findHis honor and his fortune left behind.

Who will not hear a statement to its endCan neither judge its truth nor comprehend.

The wise set no desire so high that theyBurn hot with rage when it is kept away.”

The Mobad asked him then with solemn air:“O you whose knowledge none can match or share,

No person in this world is free from need;Desire may hide, or show itself in deed.

If ways to satisfy desire appear,And power lies plainly ready, close, and near,

Which road brings profit, honor, and release,And which brings travail, pain, and broken peace?”

He answered, “There are two roads for the will;Choose one, and journey onward, good or ill.

One road is rashness, full of loss and blame;The other wisdom, joined to righteous aim.

On that road wisdom serves as guide and light,A truth beyond all questioning and night.

A long and fearful road lies still ahead:The journey back to earth among the dead.

God’s robe of honor rests upon the wise;Mark who is worthy in discerning eyes.

No giant’s strength, if wisdom is denied,Is worth the smallest coin that kings provide.

Without wise thought, life cannot rightly thrive;For wisdom keeps the living soul alive.

The man who builds on knowledge, firm and well,Is fit for warfare and can hardship quell.

Let knowledge first incline your heart to prayer,To Him whose being none can match or share.

Through faith in Him the heart attains desire,And reaches all to which its hopes aspire.

Another branch of knowledge teaches careIn food and clothing, choosing fitting fare.

Seek purity in garment, drink, and bread,Let God’s commands guide how your life is led.

When need compels you, and you must be fed,Do not ask misers for their coin instead.

Choose honest work whose name will not disgraceThe worker’s honor or his household’s place.

Make for yourself a friend among the great,Who aids you when misfortune seals the gate.

In gatherings be silent, calm, and plain,If you would win approval without strain.

But if you speak, speak only what you know,What learning rooted in you long ago.

Weigh out your words, not gold within your hold;To wisdom’s eye, mere hoarded wealth is cold.

When speaking, let your tongue be keen and bright,Your shaft be speech, your bow be wisdom’s might.

Do not act rashly when a battle nears;Guard well your body when the foe appears.

And when he sets his battle-line for war,Keep self-command; let fear assail no more.

When matched in strength, look in your rival’s face;Let no pale fear or weakness leave its trace.

If you are prompt, the victory may be won;Delay destroys what courage has begun.

Spur on your steed with care across the field;Watch well the weapons that your foe may wield.

If he is eager, do not turn or yield;Choose prudent comrades as your guard and shield.

But if you see he overmatches you,Have sense to leave the fight and pass from view.

So tend your body also when you eat;Excessive food can turn to inward heat.

Much eating harms; a little strengthens more,And leaves the body readier than before.

Do not weigh down your board with heavy fare;Rise while some hunger lingers, and forbear.

Use wine for ease and brief refreshment’s sake;The drunkard earns no praise when senses break.

If you adore God, all the world commends;It sees you as its eye and best of friends.

Let all your speech be of the Maker’s name,With adoration as its root and frame.

Judge well the time for action and for rest;Let careful thought determine what is best.

Choose moderation, as befits the wise,In making peace and when war’s storms arise.

You are but wind and water mixed with dust;Forget not God, the holy and the just.

Give worship no less care than daily bread;Renew yourself by ancient precepts led.

Incline to good, and render thanks and praiseFor every gift, and trace it to God’s ways.

Set lust below wise counsel and advice,Or wisdom leaves you to the grip of vice.

Do not set out to practice wicked deeds;Adorn your wiser self with virtue’s seeds.

Who acts with goodness, hidden and displayed,Will win the highest praise both worlds have paid.

Teach your son well the calling of the scribe,That he may raise the standing of your tribe.

And if you wish his labors to bear fruit,Turn not from those who teach the growing shoot.

This art can raise a youth to claim a throne,And make the once unworthy Fortune’s own.

Of all professions, none has higher worth;It raises even those of lowly birth.

A ready scribe with judgment in his mindMay sit where royal counsels are refined.

He guards his body from the stress of pain,And boundless treasure from the Shah will gain.

When eloquence and fine handwriting meet,His thought makes every meaning more complete.

He chooses shorter phrasing for his art,And writes the forms most pleasing to the heart.

A scribe must first possess a learned mind,With patience, memory, and sense combined.

He must know courtly custom, tact, and care,And keep his tongue from evil everywhere.

Let knowledge, patience, truth adorn his speech;Let trust and piety be within his reach.

Well favored too, when he attends the king,He earns a seat where royal counsels ring.”

When Anooshirvan heard the counsel through,His heart bloomed like a rose in springtime’s dew.

He turned then to the High Mobad, and said:“Advance young Bozorgmehr, and lift his head.

Bestow a robe of honor for his place,And silver worthy of his wisdom’s grace.

His wisdom has brought gladness to our breast;Reward him now as one among the best.”

A week went by; the sun renewed the day,Then Anooshirvan came in full array.

He took his place upon the ivory seat,His crown and girdle made his state complete.

Beside him sat the High Mobad and grandees,The shrewd and wise whose counsels sought to please.

And Yazdegard the scribe was seated near,And keen-witted Bahman stood foremost here.

The Shah then spoke to Bozorgmehr and said,“Adorn our hearts; reveal the path ahead.

Speak truth of me in all that you declare;Seek no esteem through falsehood anywhere.

How should men serve me faithfully and well,And heed the counsels that my judgments tell?

Let all these nobles learn the counsel here,And tell their fellows what they come to hear.

Do not dress words in color, scent, or art;Let naked counsel issue from the heart.”

Then Bozorgmehr, the shrewd one, answered so:“O king exalted over heaven’s glow,

The sage has said that service to the kingIs faith’s own path and honor’s sacred spring.

The Shah’s commands should suffer no delay,For royal hearts must not be tried that way.

Whoever stands as enemy to himServes Ahriman within the spirit dim.

The heart that does not love the monarch’s faceShould lose both skin and brain for its disgrace.

Know that the Shah is peace for all the earth;Do right, and he will raise your name in worth.

Both good and ill are held within his hand,Yet he seeks no revenge across the land.

Never desire his son to take his place;Hold dear as life itself the monarch’s face.

Where kings are loved, no want can leave its scar;All ills are kept at bay by royal farr.

His Fortune nurses virtue into bloom;His farr will guard you from approaching gloom.

When God’s own farr is shining on a king,The world’s heart laughs with joy at everything.

Since you partake of favor from his hand,Strive always to give ear to his command.

If you grow faithless, even in your thought,That instant Fortune leaves what once it brought.

If brought in close, let pride not cloud your mind;If kept afar, leave wrongful deeds behind.

A servant toiling for the king will gainBoth treasure and renown from loyal pain.

Who serves and praises kings walks God’s own way;The godly honor monarchs while they pray.

The servant must not weary of his part,Nor slacken in the fight with failing heart.

He must conceal the counsel of the crown,Nor breathe it where the sun or moon looks down.

Who shirks the service that the Shah decreedWrongs his own self, and fails the crown in need.

Accursed the barren tree whose leaves can bringNo use or service to the reigning king.

Speak no ill of his servants in his sight,Lest you diminish your own honor’s light.

Great liars find no royal trust or grace;Each lie they tell adds to their own disgrace.

Let no one utter in the royal hallWords lacking wisdom, weight, or truth at all.

If questioned, do not tell him all you know;Through lengthy speech, your honor may sink low.

There is more knowledge held beneath the skyThan ears can hear in places low or high.

The man the monarch of the world disdainsWill bear forever inward grief and pains.

But he on whom the smiling Shah bestowsHis favor rises as his honor grows.

If favor comes, let no presumption swellYour heart, though you have served him long and well.

However long your service may extend,Know that his needs do not on you depend.