Book D4Dara and Iskandar

When Dara mourned Darab, he raised on highThe Kayanian crown above the sunlit sky.

A headstrong youth of fierce and rash intent,Beside his tongue and heart the blade seemed spent.

He took his royal seat before them all,And thus addressed the proud chiefs in the hall:

“I want no man who falls into a pit;No head seeks crown or throne from out of it.

Whoever turns against my high commandShall lose his head beneath my royal hand.

If in his heart resistance should arise,My sword shall tear that heart before his eyes.

If others hold their treasure, I disdainTo see them glad while I endure the pain.

I need no counselor to guide my hand,For I guide hearts and gladden all the land.

All pleasure, shares, and measures I assign;Greatness and kingship and command are mine.”

He called a wise scribe forth to take his word,And write each royal order as he heard.

He became Shah Dara, Darab’s son, heir,With Darab’s father, Ardeshir, forebear.

He sent to every independent throneA khanjar of a letter, sharp in tone:

“Whoever turns against the words I sendShall lose his head and meet a rebel’s end.

Bow to my orders while you draw your breath,In taking life or yielding yours to death.”

He opened wide his father’s golden store,And called and paid the troops who came before.

Their silver pay from four rose up to eight;By cup and basin each received his rate.

Silver and gold, bargostvans, jowshans, swords,And heavy gorzes armed the gathered hordes.

Each chief whose skill long service had made knownReceived a province he could call his own.

He gave one mighty chief a frontier land,And precious gifts to all his armed band.

Then envoys came from every distant place,To seek the favor of his royal grace.

From Hindustan, the Khaqan, and the lordOf Chin, Faghfoor, from Rum and elsewhere poured.

They brought him gifts and tribute at his call;None had the strength to challenge him at all.

He built a city, Zarnush, fair and bright,And filled the folk of Ahvaz with delight.

He gave the poor their justice at his court,And gave petitioners wealth and support.

Some days thereafter old Faylaqus died,And Rum was cast in turmoil far and wide.

Iskandar took his forebear’s throne and crown,Resolved that justice keep oppression down.

A sage of great renown then lived in Rum;Through him his homeland’s joy was in full bloom.

Arastatilis, with a searching mind,Was wise, alert, and blessed with fortune kind.

He came before Iskandar in the hall,And took his honored place before them all:

“O fortunate king, beware,” the wise man said,“You lose your name upon the path you tread.

The royal throne has witnessed many a king;To none will it forever choose to cling.

When any monarch thinks his judgment whole,And spurns the wise who might direct his soul,

No greater fool can walk the world in prideThan one who casts the sages’ words aside.

We come from dust, and dust shall claim us all;We yield our helpless bodies at its call.

If you do good, your name shall long survive;Upon the royal throne your joy shall thrive.

If you do evil, evil you shall reap;No night shall bring you happiness in sleep.

Through goodness kings gain power to rule the land;No kingdom prospers through an evil hand.”

Iskandar welcomed every word he heard;He prized the sage who spoke that thoughtful word.

He did as that wise counselor would sayIn feast and war, in honor and the fray.

He raised him daily in esteem and grace,And on a throne assigned an honored place.

One day a noble envoy came to court,Clear-minded, skilled in speech and apt report.

From Dara came this envoy to demandThe tribute owed him by that prosperous land.

He laid before Iskandar what was owed;The old tribute became a grievous load.

Caesar said, “Tell Dara we pay no more;His claim no longer binds us as before.

The bird that laid those golden eggs has died;From Rum no tribute now shall be supplied.”

The herald quailed before the Roman king,Then fled the court as if he took to wing.

Iskandar called his legions to attend,And told the tribute tale from start to end.

He said, “No man escapes the wheel on high,Or fortune’s turns beneath the circling sky.

I mean to march across the breadth of earth,To learn what good and ill in life are worth.

You must prepare for all that lies before;Your hearts must cling to home and ease no more.”

The chiefs all heard and bowed before his place;Upon the dust each man then laid his face.

“We all are yours, your servants to command;We bow our heads beneath great Caesar’s hand.”

His forebear’s treasuries he opened wide,And ordered all his legions be supplied.

At dawn the cries of war arose in Rum,From city streets and every palace room.

Behind the Roman lord his banner flew;Red letters marked its field of turquoise blue.

From Rum to Mesr the legions thronged the way;No ant or gnat could pass that vast array.

The armies faced each other, fierce in fight;For seven days they strove with all their might.

The eighth day brought the troops of Mesr defeat;Iskandar barred the road of their retreat.

So many captives fell into their hands,Their own grew weary binding them with bands.

They seized steeds, gorzes, bargostvans as spoil,With jowshans, khanjars made on Indian soil;

They gathered belts and horse gear wrought of gold,And swords of Mesr that golden scabbards hold.

They seized brocade and gold coins in a loadToo great for any horse upon the road.

Then Mesr nobles and chiefs of honored nameSought quarter there and bowed before his fame.

He armed for war with Iran, striking awe,Set to crush the lion’s heart and foe’s claw.

When Dara heard the troops from Rum had stirred,And reached his land, he acted on the word.

From old Istakhr so vast an army spread,Their spears denied the wind a path ahead.

He marched from Pars toward Rum, intent to goFrom Iran to the lands where riches flow.

He led his army to the Farat’s side,More troops than growing plants spread far and wide.

He ranged his troops along the river’s bank;Their jowshans hid the water, rank on rank.

When news of Dara’s troops came down the way,Iskandar marched to meet its vast array.

Two farsangs lay between the camps; he broughtHis chiefs to share their counsel and his thought.

They spoke at length of Dara’s force and state,And told his story as they held debate.

When he had heard enough, he voiced his view:“There is one course, and this I mean to do:

I go as envoy to the Iran throne,And judge his strength and weakness on my own.”

He bade them bring a jeweled belt of state,And gold-worked robes befitting one so great.

They brought a horse with golden gear arrayed,And by its saddle set a gold-sheathed blade.

He chose ten Roman horsemen, fit to ride,Skilled in discourse, to travel at his side.

At dawn he left with that appointed train,Ten famed interpreters across the plain.

When he approached Shah Dara’s royal place,He then dismounted, bowed with courtly grace.

The Shah received the envoy with due care,And near his throne assigned the man a chair.

The courtiers marveled at his noble frame,And in their hearts gave praise to his great name.

They saw his royal splendor, learning, grace,His height and limbs, the color of his face.

He sat, then rose at once to speak his part,And shaped Iskandar’s message with his art:

“May you live long beneath the turning sphere,May your crowned head endure from year to year.

Iskandar says: ‘O king of high renown,Whose wishes thrive wherever shines your crown,

I have no wish to war upon your land,Nor linger in Iran with this armed band.

My only purpose is to journey wide,And view the realms that stretch on every side.

I seek all truth and goodness in your reign,Since you are lord of Iran’s wide domain.

If you deny me earth, how can I flyAnd tread, like clouds, a pathway through the sky?

You bring your army here, yet do not knowWhat plans I hold, or where I mean to go.

If you choose war, then war shall answer you;I shall not leave until the fight is through.

Appoint the day on which our swords shall meet;And keep that purpose firm; do not retreat.

I will not turn from mighty chiefs in fear,However vast the force that gathers here.’”

Dara observed his courage and his height,His speech and judgment, royal splendor bright.

He seemed like Darab on an ivory throne,With armlets, torque, and crown that brightly shone.

The Shah asked, “Tell your name and lineage now;The marks of kingship shine upon your brow.

You far surpass the lesser men I see;I think Iskandar you yourself must be.

With such a form and face, such speech and grace,Has heaven reared you for a sovereign’s place?”

Iskandar said, “No prudent king would goTo bear his own dispatch to friend or foe.

My master’s court has speakers skilled and wise,And learned men whom every prince would prize.

His court has many men of speech and art;He need not leave his throne to play my part.

His judgment would not lead him to forsakeThe paths his elders taught a king to take.

My lord entrusted me with this command;I gave his words as he himself had planned.”

They lodged the envoy in a tent of state,Prepared to suit a man of rank so great.

The feast was spread; the Shah then gave the call:His officer must bring him to the hall.

They called him in and gave him his due place,The envoy’s seat, with fitting courtly grace.

They ate; then wine and music stirred the throng,As players answered summons with their song.

Iskandar drank the wine they brought around,And in his lap each emptied cup was found.

The wine and cups went round in ample store;He kept too many, adding more and more.

The servant told the Shah, “The cups we bringHe keeps; all made of gold, O noble king.”

The Shah replied, “Ask why he keeps each cup,And will not let the server take it up.”

The server asked, “O man of kingly grace,Why clasp these golden cups in your embrace?”

Iskandar said, “Where royal wine is poured,The envoy keeps the goblet at the board.

If Iran’s custom differs, then restoreThis golden goblet to the royal store.”

Dara laughed, then ordered them to bringA cup of precious jewels fit for a king.

He bade them place the goblet in his hand,A red ruby on top, at his command.

Just then the men who, far from home, had madeTheir way to Rum to seek the tribute paid,

Came from their lodgings to the banquet hall,And walked toward the Shah before them all.

One saw Iskandar, then approached the throne,And blessed the Shah before he made him known:

“This is Iskandar, lord of royal grace,Who sits with crown and gorz in Rum’s high place.

When you commanded us to claim the due,We went to him as envoys sent by you.

He raged and humbled us before his throne,And warred on you in words, in scornful tone.

I fled his realm and spurred my steeds in flight,And drove them onward through the dark of night.

No other man in Rum bears such a face;He boldly comes within this very place.

He measures all your troops, your treasure’s worth,Your throne and crown, your sovereign might on earth.”

When Dara heard the tribute-seeker’s claim,He fixed a longer gaze upon his frame.

Iskandar knew what they had said apart,The words they placed within the monarch’s heart.

He waited till the daylight lost its glow,And watched the sun sink westward, gleaming low.

He reached the entrance of the royal tent,And mounted there, on swift departure bent.

He spoke to his own riders, men of fame,Whose lofty fortune matched their noble name:

“Our lives upon our horses’ speed depend;If they grow weak, we grasp wind in the end.”

They spurred their horses, galloping in flight,And fled from Dara’s camp with all their might.

When Dara looked, no crowned head was in sight;The guest had vanished in the dark of night.

At once he sent a watchman out to spyUpon the suspect’s tent that stood nearby.

Iskandar fled before the scout drew near;His fortune had not slept, nor failed him here.

Dara dispatched a thousand horsemen, bentTo seize Iskandar as he homeward went.

They raced like wind; the night was dark and black,And none could recognize the proper track.

At sight of a patrol they turned around;From that long, weary ride no gain was found.

When he returned, the Roman chiefs of mightRose from their seats, rejoicing at the sight.

That night they saw their sovereign glad at heart,A gem-filled cup before him, set apart.

He said, “Be blessed, and let your hearts be glad;Rejoice in this good omen we have had.

This cup means victory to every soul;The stars themselves are under our control.

I counted all their troops in camp and court;Their cavalry falls far below report.

Draw all your swords for battle, steel in hand;And press across the level, open land.

If you endure the struggle and the pain,Then kingship and rich treasure you shall gain.

The World-Creator grants His helping grace;The head of Fortune rests in my embrace.”

The mighty chiefs called blessings on his head,“May earth be blessed beneath your rule,” they said.

“For you our souls and bodies we lay down;Our pledge endures forever to your crown.

What king can rival you in noble height,In beauty, bearing, courage, and in might?”

The sun rose from the raven’s back; its lightMade earth a golden lamp that glimmered bright.

Dara, the realm’s commander, marched ahead;The world drew pitch-black veils about its head.

From old Farat he marched across the land,More troops than blades of grass filled his command.

Iskandar heard, made the tabiras sound;He marched his legions toward the battleground.

The armies stretched beyond the reach of sight;His age had none to match Iskandar’s might.

War-coats and Indian khanjars filled the plain,With steeds and bargostvans throughout the train.

Both armies and their gear, in numbers vast,Made earth a sea; their dust rose, mountain-massed.

Both armies formed their lines for coming war;The distant sun grew warm from blades they bore.

They brought the mighty elephants ahead,And like the waters of the Nile they spread.

Behind the beasts the horsemen held the rear;No warrior there still held his own life dear.

The air seemed roaring blood amid the toil;Beneath that tumult earth began to boil.

The horns and Indian bells resounded high,And tore earth’s heart out with their piercing cry.

The charging horses neighed with furious sound,While chiefs cried out and gorzes clanged around.

Earth seemed a mountain armed to join the fray,While dust concealed the heavens far away.

For one full week the rival armies bled,As warriors faced their enemies ahead.

Upon the eighth, dark dust rose into view;The sun above them turned to lapis blue.

Iran’s embattled warriors saw no light,With only dust of battle in their sight.

Then Dara turned and fled the field that day,And all his warlike chiefs forsook the fray.

His beaten troops crossed Farat in their flight,And left the field where they had waged the fight.

Iskandar’s legions pressed the fleeing foe,One side in triumph, one consumed by woe.

They struck them down along the river shore,Uncounted sons of Iran breathed no more.

The army turned away from Farat’s strand;They left the river at the Caesar’s command.

He came in triumph to the field he knew,Where he had ranged his army in review.

When Dara fled before the Roman might,He sent swift riders out to left and right.

He called Iran’s chiefs and men who dealt the pay,And gave out coin to ready their array.

The month began; his troops stood armed and steeled;His chiefs were proud and ready for the field.

He crossed the river to the plain, and thenDrew up his ranks for battle once again.

When word reached young Iskandar, he drew near,And left his heavy baggage in the rear.

When those two mighty armies met in war,Both earth and time grew eager for its roar.

For three long days they fought with sword and might,Till heaps of dead left little room to fight.

Great numbers of Iran’s brave warriors died,And fortune turned from Dara’s royal side.

Dara withdrew in anguish and dismay,The sun and moon had turned their aid away.

Iskandar followed swiftly where he trod,And called to mind the World-Creator, God.

Before the army rose a cry to say:“O subjects who have wandered from the way,

You need not fear my wrath or suffer harm;My legions shall not cause you fresh alarm.

Remain within your homes, secure and whole;To God entrust your body and your soul.

Though blood has stained your hands in former strife,From Rum you are secure in limb and life.”

Iran’s folk found their safety now restored,And turned toward Rum, secure against its sword.

He crossed the field where blood had dyed the ground,And gathered all the spoils his legions found.

He gave his legions all the wealth he gained,And made them strong, well armed, and well sustained.

For four full months he lingered with his force,Until their rest had run its needed course.

Dara reached Jahram, where his wealth was stored,And where the keys were kept to all his hoard.

His chiefs came out to meet him on the way,Consumed by burning grief and deep dismay.

The fathers cried for sons they could not find;Sons cried for fathers, grief with grief entwined.

Throughout Iran the cries of sorrow spread,Like drops of dew, their tears fell for the dead.

From Jahram to Istakhr he made his ride,The city famed as all the nobles’ pride.

He sent his messengers through every land,To summon Pahlevans at his command.

The warriors gathered in the royal hall;A golden seat was set before them all.

Then Dara sat upon the throne of gold;His loyal chiefs approached him, brave and bold.

He spoke to Iran’s chiefs, the wise and keen:“O watchful warriors, hear what I have seen.

Consider now what course we ought to steer.”He spoke in pain and shed a bitter tear.

“Far better die today and win renownThan live while foes rejoice to see us down.

Our fathers and our kings, while yet they reigned,Received the yearly tribute they had gained.

Rum once lay subject to us, bowed and low;Now fortune turns against us, bringing woe.

He holds the realm; our sovereignty has fled,And young Iskandar bears the crown instead.

He will not stop; his coming draws more near,And Pars shall be a sea of blood and fear.

Our women, children, men shall captive fall;No young or old will stay here, none at all.

But if you stand beside me, hand in hand,I shall turn grief and ruin from our land.

The Romans once were prey before our might,Worn down by all Iran throughout the fight.

Now we are prey, and they are leopards; weFrom every battle turn our backs and flee.

Yet if we stand together, shield to shield,We may recover every captured field.

But should one man grow faint amid the strife,And shrink from risking honor, blood, and life,

Abandon hope; we share in Jamshid’s plight,While Rum is now Zahhak in all his might.”

He spoke and wept, with pain that pierced him through;His cheeks were yellow and his lips were blue.

The prudent nobles rose, their purpose clear,And framed the answer for the Shah to hear.

A cry of grief arose within the hall:“Without the Shah, we want no world at all.

We all shall face the conflict, blow for blow,And make the world grow narrow for the foe.

We bind our hems together, hand in hand,Whether we gain the dust or rule the land.”

He gave his troops and chiefs both arms and pay,To furnish all the men of his array.

Iskandar learned that Dara’s royal mightHad crowned the moon from his enthroned height.

He led his legions from Farat arrayed,And in the Roman tongue to God he prayed.

His army’s midst and bounds no eye could trace;And Dara’s fortune lost its youthful grace.

The Shah made to meet Caesar on the plain,And brought Istakhr’s vast army in his train.

The burdened earth could scarcely bear their weight,The turning heavens seemed compelled to wait.

The monarchs drew their armies forth to stand,With spear and gorz and khanjar held in hand.

The armies’ clamor thundered to the sphere,And tore, it seemed, the turning heaven’s ear.

The earth became a sea of streaming red,And headless trunks lay mingled with the dead.

No father could attend his son that day,As faithless fortune turned from men away.

Night fell, and Dara broke beneath attack;Iskandar girded, set to drive him back.

The Shah withdrew to Kerman in defeat,To save his life and lead his troops’ retreat.

Iskandar came to Istakhr, pride of Pars,The seat of crowns beneath the circling stars.

A cry rang from the court to all the great:“O chiefs who guide the people of the state,

All you who seek our shelter in your need,And turn to God from every former deed,

If you wish well to me, dismiss your fear;You all shall find my pledged protection here.

The wounded shall receive gifts for relief;We shall not spill foes’ blood, adding grief to grief.

We shall not touch the goods that others own,And guide our wisdom where the right is shown.

For God has granted glory to our name,The crown of kings and majesty and fame.

Whoever dares defy what we commandTreads on a dragon’s neck where he would stand.”

Whatever spoils were gathered from the fight,He shared among his troops by royal right.

When Dara reached Kerman, he looked in vainFor two-thirds of the chiefs who led his train.

A mournful wailing through the army spread;Each hopeless soldier stood with naked head.

He called the wise surviving chiefs to meet,Who fought beside him in their great defeat.

They gathered, mourning all they once could share,Their hearts consumed beneath the weight of care.

Then Dara said, “We surely have brought downThe wrath of heaven upon our ancient crown.

No man had seen such ruin or defeat,Nor heard old masters such a tale repeat.

The Shah’s own wives and children captive lie;Fate wounds our hearts, while shafts through bodies fly.

What counsel have you? What can now be doneTo make our foe rue what he has begun?

No realm or throne or crown is left us here,No kingship, children, wealth, or troops appear.

Unless the Maker grants us mercy now,Our days are ruined; grief will mark our brow.”

The chieftains wept before the monarch’s eyes,And filled the council chamber with their cries:

“O Shah, our strength is broken by this strain,And grief is joined with a relentless pain.

Our army has no strength left for the fight;The flood has risen past our heads in height.

Sonless are fathers; fatherless are sons;Thus heaven’s course against our people runs.

Our mothers, sisters, daughters, all now standAs captives held within Iskandar’s hand.

Your sheltered women, too, whose hearts would quakeWith fear for you, and tremble for your sake,

The wealth your noble forebears left behind,Which came to you with no reproach assigned,

Rum holds them now, the noble line and store,The Kayanian wealth our fathers held before.

We cannot face the legions in the field,Or meet their charge; our broken troops would yield.

Peace with him is our sole remaining plan;The crown remains forever with no man.

The circling sky will turn on him in time,As sages have observed in every clime.

Show him submission; let your words conveyA gentler temper in the things you say.

Then we shall see which way the matter goes,For heaven’s hidden purpose no one knows.

Write him a letter; let your words of artAwaken thought within his darkened heart.

Who lowers fire’s flame with words has skillTo ward from his own life approaching ill.”

When Dara heard, he chose their counsel’s way,As well befits the kings whom men obey.

Before the Shah a seasoned scribe drew near,With paper, black musk ink, his writing gear.

With yellow cheeks and eyes that blood had wept,He wrote the bitter thoughts his sorrow kept.

From Dara, born of Ardeshir’s famed line,To Caesar Iskandar, whose conquests shine.

He praised the Maker, from whose sovereign handBoth good and ill had come at His command:

“The wisest sage, however learned or brave,Cannot escape the fate the heavens gave.

From it come joy and dread; its changes showUs now upon the heights, now fallen low.

Our armies’ fate was settled not by might,But by the sun and moon’s ordained flight.

What was destined has come; our hearts still ache.And what new turn will the azure vault take?

If you agree to peace and swear accord,And turn your heart from seeking war by sword,

The wealth Goshtasb and Esfandiyar amassed,With crown and armlets, earrings from the past,

I shall dispatch these treasures from my store,With all the wealth my labors earned before.

I shall assist you on the journey through,By day or night, and prove my service true.

But let my wives and children now depart,And send them home with mercy in your heart.

The rulers of the world should never showA vengeful spirit toward a fallen foe.

From vengeance on these women, none gains fame;A king reaps only infamy and shame.

The wise king, when he reads these words of mine,Will weigh this counsel and its terms define.”

From Kerman sped a camel on its way,To wary Iskandar without delay.

Iskandar read the scroll, then softly said,“May perfect wisdom crown the monarch’s head!

Who harms the Shah’s own children or his kin,Or sheltered women, shall no pardon win.

His only throne shall be the grave’s dark bed,Or from a bough he shall hang till life has fled.

Let no kin of the Shah know harm or woe,Nor tribute, tax, or treasure shall they owe.

If once the Shah returns to Iran, thenThe whole of kingship shall be yours again.

Your covenant I keep and shall not stray,Nor turn one breath against the words you say.”

The camel went back to Kerman like a flood;The Shah’s two eyes and heart were filled with blood.

When Dara read the answer sent that day,He marveled at the world’s capricious way.

At last, he said, “To bow before this foeIs worse than death beneath the sword’s last blow.

A silent grave is better than disgrace.”He spoke a sage’s proverb in that place:

“When waters of the sea rise far and wide,A drop of rain lies hidden in the tide.

I once sent aid wherever wars arose;Now ruin hammers at my doors and grows.

No helper now remains beneath the sun;I call on God, the everlasting One.”

Since none remained to gather at his call,He wrote to Foor, deserted now by all.

In deep distress, with humble words of praise,He blessed Yazdan who rules our earthly days.

He wrote, “O king of Hind, whose searching mindIs wise, enlightened, learned, and refined,

You surely have been told our bitter fate,And how the stars have ruined all our state.

Iskandar led his western troops’ campaign,And seized the realm that once was my domain.

No field or settled town remains in sight,No kin or child is here to ease my plight.

Our throne and crown, our army; all are lost;Our gathered treasures lie dispersed and tossed.

Now, if you help me turn this ruin back,And shield me from the harm of this attack,

I shall dispatch such jewels from my storeThat wealth shall be your source of care no more.

Moreover, you shall win enduring fame,And all the great shall honor your good name.”

A wind-swift camel sped upon its wayTo Foor, of Foors’ descent, without delay.

Iskandar learned what Dara had designed,And knew what help from Hind he hoped to find.

Horns and tabiras rang at his command;The Indian bells resounded through the land.

From old Istakhr, Iskandar led his force,And dust obscured the sun along their course.

The war-cries rose from either armed array;No man of battle stood at ease that day.

Iskandar drew his legions up to fight,While darkened air concealed the earth from sight.

When Dara’s weary army came in view,No thirst for further battle stirred his crew.

Their hearts were broken, weary of the fray;Iran’s once lofty fortune sank away.

Against the Romans, all their strength gave way;The raging lion turned a fox that day.

The nobles sought protection from the foe,And fell from greatness into shame and woe.

The weeping Shah turned back his horse’s head,And from the field in grief and anguish fled.

Three hundred noble riders joined his flight,Each one a man of name, renowned in fight.

Two honored counselors rode in his train,His comrades on the field of war and pain.

One was the Mobad Mahiyar by name;The other, Janusiyar, with him came.

These two saw Dara’s royal star grow dim,And knew that fate no longer favored him.

They whispered, “Nothing can his rule restore,Or give him crown and throne he held before.

A khanjar in his breast must strike him dead,Or else an Indian blade must cleave his head.

Iskandar then will grant us land to own,And we shall rise to power through his throne.”

His two advisers rode beside him still;They kept his treasure, serving at his will.

The elder rode at left, Mahiyar right;A wind arose beneath the dark of night.

Then Janusiyar gripped his khanjar fast,And through the monarch’s breast its point he passed.

The wounded monarch bowed his famous head;His army scattered when their sovereign bled;

Then Dara’s minister rode on his wayTo where the Roman king and legions lay.

Janusiyar began his words of praise:“Victorious king, may joy attend your days!

We struck your foe, and sudden was his fall;His crown and throne are ended, once for all.”

Iskandar heard what Janusiyar had said,Then turned to speak to Mahiyar instead:

“Where is the enemy you struck down so?Now lead me straight to him; before me go.”

The pair went first; the Roman, torn with pain,Felt bloody tears upon his features rain.

He came to Dara, pale of face and weak,His breast all blood, his face like fenugreek.

He bade them leave their mounts and hold the pair,The two advisers, under watchful care.

He sprang down like the wind and bent to seeThe wounded Shah, whose head lay on his knee.

He watched to see if Dara still could speak,And rubbed both hands across the royal cheek.

He lifted off the heavy royal crown,Then eased the jowshan off that weighed him down.

He eased the wounded monarch, weeping low,For no wise healer stood to treat the blow.

He said, “May all your suffering disappear;May those who wished you harm be seized with fear.

Rise to the golden litter from the ground,Or mount your horse, if strength can still be found.

From Hind and Rum I shall bring healers here;Your pain has drawn from me the bloody tear.

I shall restore to you your throne and reign,And, when you mend, I shall no more remain.

But I shall hang these villains by the feet,So all may see the justice they shall meet.

Last night, the elders spoke; my heart grew sore,And filled with blood, my soul in fierce uproar.

We spring from one old root, one royal line;Why should ambition sever yours from mine?”

Then Dara heard his words and softly said,“May perfect wisdom guard your heart and head.

I know the holy Judge who rules aboveWill grant reward for every word of love.

You say you will Iran to me restore,With crown and throne as in the days before.

But death is nearer than the throne I knew;My throne is empty, fortune fallen too.

High heaven turns all profit into loss,And changes earthly splendor into dross.

Look well at me; let not your pride proclaimThat you surpass these men of noble name.

Know good and evil both proceed from God;Praise Him, whatever paths your feet have trod.

I stand as proof of all that I have said:My life supplies a lesson, plainly read.

Such kingship, wealth, and greatness were my own;No other man had such a portion known.

My weapons, armies, horses; what a store!My throne and crown; what wealth was mine before!

My children, kindred; what a grieving train,With wounded hearts and spirits seared by pain!

The earth and time once bowed before my might,While fortune filled my empire with its light.

But now each earthly good has been withdrawn;In killers’ hands I lie, my fortune gone.

No hope in child or kinsman meets my sight;The world turns black, my failing eyes turn white.

No kindred stand beside me in my need;I trust alone in what Yazdan decreed.

Thus broken, I lie bleeding in the clay,Caught in destruction’s snare, a helpless prey.

Such is the custom of the circling sky:Both Shah and Pahlevan are born to die.

The longest reign must end with failing breath;Life is the quarry, hunted down by death.”

Iskandar’s eyes rained blood upon the clayWhere Dara, wounded past all healing, lay.

The dying Shah beheld his sorrow’s trace:The bloody teardrops on his yellow face.

“Weep not; such tears can bring no gain to me;From all my fire, but smoke is left to see.

Such was the portion that the Giver chose,And all my radiant days have reached their close.

Now heed the counsels that I shall declare,And guard them in your heart with constant care.”

Iskandar said, “Declare your final choice;I pledge myself to heed your dying voice.”

Then Dara spoke, recounting all his will:“Fear God, who rules the valley and the hill.

He formed the heavens, earth, and passing time,The weak and strong, in majesty sublime.

My children, kin, and women wise of heart:Protect them all and play a guardian’s part.

Take my chaste daughter as your royal bride,And let her share your throne with joy and pride.

Her mother named her Roshanak; her birthBrought gladness and delight to all the earth.

No shame shall touch you through this royal child;No taunt from foes shall leave your name defiled.

Reared by great kings, she shines among the great,Their crowning ornament at feasts of state.

Perhaps from her shall come a prince of fame,Who shall renew Esfandiyar’s great name.

He shall tend Zardosht’s fire throughout the land,And take the Zand-Avesta in his hand.

Through him the Sadeh feast shall burn more bright,With Nowruz and the fire-temple’s sacred light.

Ormozd, Mah, Khur, and Mehr he shall uphold,And keep their honors as in days of old.

He shall wash soul and face in wisdom’s stream,And honor all that Lohrasp held supreme.

The faith of Goshtasb shall his heart sustain,And each shall keep his rank throughout his reign.

He shall relight the Faith in future days,And live in righteousness and earn men’s praise.”

Iskandar heard and answered from his heart,“O noble Shah, I shall perform each part.

I take your counsels; in this land I standWithin the bounds your final words command.

Each act of goodness I shall make my own,With God my guide in all that you have shown.”

The dying monarch grasped Iskandar’s hand,And raised a wail across the blood-stained land.

He placed that palm against his mouth to pray:“May God protect and keep you on your way.

I yield my throne to you and turn to clay;To holy God I give my soul today.”

He spoke no more; his spirit took its flight,And all around him wept at that sad sight.

Iskandar tore his robes, as mourners must,And strewed the Kayanian crown with dust.

He built a tomb to suit the monarch’s creed,His glory and the rites his faith decreed.

They washed off blood with rosewater, and wept;The time had come when he forever slept.

They dressed him in rich Roman silk brocade,With jewels and gold upon his form displayed.

They covered all his body, pale and white,With fragrant camphor, veiling it from sight.

They set a golden throne to hold the dead,And placed a musk-sweet crown upon his head.

They laid him in a coffin wrought of gold;Iskandar’s bloody tears his sorrow told.

They lifted up the coffin from its stand,And all the mourners laid their hand on hand.

Iskandar walked ahead, bowed down with pain;The weeping nobles followed in the train.

He reached the tomb with grief so fierce within,It seemed that anguish split his very skin.

The coffin on the throne, the tomb was sealedBy royal custom, Dara’s form concealed.

Outside the tomb he raised two gibbets high,For those who made the wounded monarch die.

Alive, head-down, they hung upon each spar;The chiefs, Janusiyar and Mahiyar.

From all the army men came, stone in hand;They stoned the pair before the gathered band.

So perish all who strike a monarch down;Such be the fate of traitors to the crown.

When Iran’s warriors saw the grief he boreFor Dara, fallen king they served before,

They praised Iskandar’s worth with one accord,And hailed him ruler, earth’s acknowledged lord.

From Kerman came a messenger one dayTo Isfahan, where Iran’s chieftains lay.

A man of standing came before them all,The royal women in their sheltered hall.

He brought Iskandar’s greetings to their court,And gave of Dara’s fate a full report.

He gave the king’s words: “When a just king dies,No joy in friend or foe’s sad heart can rise.

Know that today I stand in Dara’s place;Though he is hidden, here you see my face.

Far greater favors wait beneath my reign;Scratch not your cheeks in sorrow and in pain.

Both king and soldier tread the road to death,Though long or brief the span of mortal breath.

Bring all your household goods to Istakhr’s side,And in your kinship with us take fresh pride.

Iran remains as it has stood before;May health and gladness now your hearts restore.”

They wrote to every province, prince, and peer,To make the western ruler’s purpose clear.

The scroll was from Iskandar, Faylaqus’ son,World-conqueror, whom vengeful foes would shun.

The scroll was sent to potentates of might,And horsemen, all well trained and armed for fight.

He sent the Mobadan a scroll of peace,With praise and blessings, bidding discord cease.

“From Kayanian king to Iran’s men of skill,”The heading read, announcing royal will.

The pen of Chin, with ambergris imbued,Began with praise and words of gratitude.

He praised the just Creator, Lord of might,Who made the world, both veiled and plain to sight.

From kaf and nun; His “Be”; two worlds arose;What stands against the order He bestows?

Behold the moving heavens He commands;All power and wisdom rest within His hands.

Whatever He commands shall come to be;He is the king; His servants all are we.

“From Him, my greetings go to men of worth,Each in his rank among the men of earth.

Seek good repute and learning, justice too;Let these be all the world bequeaths to you.

Amid my triumph, sorrow clouds my day,And mourning drives my festival away.

I swear by Him who lights the sun on high,I never wished to see great Dara die.

His own retainers struck the fatal blow;No foreign hand had laid the monarch low.

Now God has made the evildoer bearThe evil he devised; a fitting share.

Seek justice and obey; your lives must standAs pledges to the covenant I command.

Seek heaven’s fortune; I shall grant you gold,Slaves, crowns, and thrones for you to have and hold.

I mourn the Shah whose royal life is done,And honor every wish of Darab’s son.

Whoever leaves his home to seek my courtShall gain high honors, gifts, and full support.

But one who chooses in his house to stayMust never turn his loyalty away.

Send to my treasury the rightful due,And no one shall inflict a wrong on you.

Strike silver coins that bear Iskandar’s name,And keep our covenant, and shun all shame.

Maintain the kingdom’s seats of old renown,By ancient custom fitting to the crown.

Set guards within the markets of the land,Who speak our name and carry our command.

Set watchmen on your borders, keep them strong,And show your worth in shielding them from wrong.

Thus shall no robber bring you grief or fear;Live glad at heart, with profit year by year.

From every city send a bondmaid fair,Modest in manner, fit to serve, aware.

Fit for our golden chambers, she must knowThe worship that to our own faith we owe.

Let her not leave distressed or sad of mind;No slave must suffer treatment harsh, unkind.

Send her among our servants, there to dwellWithin our women’s quarters, serving well.

Distinguish holy wanderers through the land,Who go on foot and fast, a humble band.

Their hearts are pure; they bear the Sufi name,Content in poverty, and free of shame.

Let them stand foremost on our rolls of grace;Among petitioners, give them first place.

If an official harms a man in need,And makes him suffer through a wrongful deed,

Then break the oppressor’s heart and back outright,Uproot his branch and root, destroy his might.

The wretch shall hang alive who failed to knowWhat end from his own evil start would grow.

Enrich your hearts with charity and right,And let nobility become your light.

Our days must pass, however long we stay;Time counts our steps along the mortal way.

Whoever dares to break our royal wordShall meet the punishment his deeds incurred.”

The letter sent, he turned to rule the land,And held the world in peace beneath his hand.

From Kerman to Istakhr he made his way,And wore the Kayanian crown that day.

Seek not to pry into the world’s design;It turns from those who search for every sign.

Make knowledge in this life your chief pursuit,For in the next you shall enjoy its fruit.