Book A7The First Kings: Manuchehr

Another week passed by in grief and woe;All mourned the Shah whom death had brought so low.

Upon the eighth day Manuchehr came crowned;The Kayanian diadem his temples bound.

All champions living over earth’s domainCalled blessings down upon his royal reign.

When he had set the royal crown in place,He gave glad tidings to the human race:

Of justice, Faith, and courage in the deed,Of goodness, purity, and wisdom’s creed.

“I sit,” he said, “upon the turning sphere;My wrath and war, my justice, love are here.

The earth serves me; the turning heavens obey;The heads of crowned kings shall become my prey.

The Faith is mine; divine farr crowns my state;Good fortune walks beside me joined with fate.

In darkest night I seek the blood-debt due;By day Barzin-fire burns before your view.

I bear the sword and golden shoes, and holdThe Kayanian standard, high and bold.

I kindle cloud and draw the cutting blade;In battle I stand firm, of none afraid.

At feast my hands become a boundless sea;In war, consuming fire goes out from me.

From evil I cut wicked hands away;In vengeance earth wears brocade for the day.

I wield the gorz and bear the royal crown;From ivory throne I cast my radiance down.

Yet with these gifts and powers I remainThe Maker’s servant under His domain.

Come, strike our hands upon each tearful face;Let every tale return to God’s own place.

From Him are crown and throne, from Him my force;To Him my thanks, in Him my sole recourse.

We follow blessed Fereydoon’s ancient way;Though he was old, our reign begins today.

Whoever through the seven climes should strayFrom Faith and turn where sin and darkness lay;

Who brings affliction on the poor and weak,Or keeps his own folk humbled when they speak;

Who lifts his head through riches and through pride,Or adds new pain to sufferers at his side;

All such are faithless in my royal sight,Worse than the evil Ahriman in spite.

Whoever stands outside this Faith and wayIs cursed by God and me from this same day.

Then swiftly to the sword my hand shall go,And humble every realm that shelters foe.”

Then all the champions of the world raised highTheir blessings on Manuchehr with one cry:

“Blessed Fereydoon, Shah of righteous fame,Bestowed the throne and crown that bear your name.

May nobles’ throne be yours forevermore,With crown and Mobad’s farr in lasting store.

Our hearts obey your will in every deed;Our lives are pledged to serve you at your need.”

Then world-champion Sahm rose from his place:“O just king, judgment shines upon your face.

I have seen kings through many years gone by;In you shines justice clear to every eye.

From father after father comes your claim;The riders’ chosen lion, crowned with fame.

May the pure Maker guard your soul and frame;Keep glad your heart, and radiant your name.

In you the memory of old kings revives;The Kayanian spring again arrives.

In battle you are lion, firm and bright;At feast you are the sun that pours its light.

May earth and Time lie dust beneath your feet;May turquoise throne remain your royal seat.

You washed the earth clean with the Indian blade;Now sit at ease and let the feast be made.

From now the turn of battle falls to me;Your place is throne and feast, from warfare free.

My forebears all were champions of renown,The refuge of great nobles and the crown.

From Garshasp down to Nariman of fame,Sepahbods, khanjar-wielders, bore that name.

I shall go round the world from end to end,And bind each rising foe who would contend.

Fereydoon raised me to the Pahlevan’s place;Your wisdom now confirms that honored grace.”

The Shah then blessed him, praising all he said,And royal gems before the chief were spread.

Then Sahm withdrew from near the royal seat;The champions followed after his retreat.

He walked with honor toward his resting place;The world moved on in order, law, and grace.

Now from the tales of ancient days I bringA wondrous story from tradition’s spring.

Look well, my son, and hear what Time once planned,What game it played with Sahm by its own hand.

No child had yet been granted Sahm’s embrace;His heart still sought a child to fill that place.

Within his chambers dwelt a lovely bride;Rose-petal cheeks and musk-dark hair her pride.

From that moon-face he hoped a son might rise,Sun-faced and strong beneath the turning skies.

She bore the child of Sahm, of noble fame;The heavy burden racked her tender frame.

When her appointed days at last were done,From mother came a child bright as the sun.

His face shone brightly like the solar light;But every hair upon him gleamed snow-white.

Because the boy was born in such a guise,For one full week they hid him from Sahm’s eyes.

The women of that champion’s private hallBefore the tiny child stood helpless all.

No one would dare to tell the warrior so:“Your fair mate bore a child with hair like snow.”

At last a nurse, lion-hearted in her way,Came boldly before Sahm without delay.

She stood before the champion with the news,And first spoke blessings, careful words to choose:

“May Sahm the brave know fortune bright and strong;May foes who plot against him not live long.

God gave at last the thing your heart desired,The gift for which your spirit long aspired.

Behind your veil, renowned and noble one,Your moon-faced lady now has borne a son.

A lion-hearted warrior-child is he;His courage shows already, bold and free.

His body shines like silver, pure and bright;His face is paradise to mortal sight.

One fault alone: the whiteness of his hair;This is the portion fate has made your share.

Accept what God has given to your care;Be grateful; do not yield to your despair.”

Then Sahm the rider left his royal chairAnd went behind the curtain to his heir.

He saw an old-headed child, noble and bright;No eye had seen such wonder brought to light.

His every hair was white and cold as snow;His face burned red with youthful, splendid glow.

When Sahm beheld that head of snowy white,The world itself grew hopeless in his sight.

He feared the taunts that others soon would raise;Fear drove him from the path of wisdom’s ways.

He raised his head in anguish to the sky,And begged Yazdan for refuge with a cry:

“O One beyond all crookedness and flaw,All goodness grows according to Your law.

If I have borne some grave and sinful stain,Or followed Ahriman, his faith profane,

May the Creator hear my hidden plea,And in His mercy secretly pardon me.

My darkened soul twists inwardly with shame;Hot blood within my body boils like flame.

This child seems sprung from Ahriman’s own line,Dark eyes beneath hair white as jasmine shine.

When mighty chiefs arrive and question why,What can I say beneath each searching eye?

What shall I call this Div-child, born in dread?A two-hued leopard, from a pari bred?

The world’s great men will laugh at what they see,In public and in secret mocking me.

For this disgrace I shall leave Iran behind;No blessing for this land will cross my mind.”

He spoke, turned back, and would no longer stay;He railed against his fortune on the way.

He ordered them to lift the child away,Far from that settled country on that day.

There stood Mount Alborz, rising toward the sun,Far from the haunts where human feet had run.

The Simorgh there had built her lofty nest,Its home was far from every creature’s quest.

They laid him on the mountain, turned away;And for a time alone the infant lay.

The guiltless champion-child lay on that track,Not knowing even what was white or black.

His father cast love, kinship, all aside;When Sahm cast him away, God took his side.

A lioness who nursed her cub once said,And gave this mother’s wisdom as she fed:

“If I fed you my heart’s blood day by day,No debt upon your head would I then lay.

For you are both my seeing eye and heart;My own heart breaks if ever we should part.”

The little child lay helpless in that place,For days, and none to hold him in embrace.

At times he sucked the finger of his hand;At times his cries rang over barren land.

When hunger seized the Simorgh’s waiting brood,She rose on mighty wings in search of food.

She saw below a suckling child who cried,The earth around him like a boiling tide.

Rock was his cradle, dust his nurse alone;No cloth, no milk; he lay upon the stone.

Dark, wretched dust lay heaped on every side;Above his head the sun burned fierce and wide.

Had leopard been his mother or his sire,Its shade might guard him from the sun’s hot fire.

God filled the Simorgh’s heart with pity mild;She lost all thought of feeding on the child.

She dropped from cloud with talons opened wide,And seized him from the burning mountainside.

She bore him swiftly back to Alborz height,Where nest and brood were hidden from all sight.

She brought him to her chicks to tear as prey;His piteous cries rang through the nest that day.

But God, who gives all goodness, showed him grace;A future still awaited in that place.

Blood dripped like tears from both the infant’s eyes;The Simorgh and her brood now heard his cries.

A wonder seized them; love came after awe;They stood amazed at the fair face they saw.

She chose the tenderest prey her hunt could give,For milkless guest who sucked its blood to live.

So in that fashion many seasons sped;The child grew fit and flourishing, well fed.

As that small child grew mighty in his worth,Long years rolled over mountain, sky, and earth.

At last he stood, a cypress, straight of limb;His chest a silver mount, his waist reed-slim.

His story spread, for nothing stays concealed;Both good and evil are at last revealed.

At last to Sahm, Nariman’s son, came word;His fortunate child bore farr, so men had heard.

One night Sahm slept, his heart by sorrow worn,By Time’s harsh dealings troubled and forlorn.

He dreamed a rider hastened out of Hind,An Arabian steed beneath him swift as wind.

A noble warrior, perfect and complete,He rode until he reached the champion’s seat.

He brought glad news: “Your son still lives and grows,A tall and flourishing branch that fortune shows.”

When Sahm awoke, he called Mobadan near,And spoke at length about his dream and fear.

He told them all the vision of the night,And what the caravans had brought to light.

“What do you say of this?” the champion cried.“Does wisdom with this hope of mine abide?

Does that small child live on the mountain still,Or did the heat and cold combine to kill?”

Then to the Pahlevan the sages toldTheir answer, speaking plainly, frank and bold:

“Who gives no thanks to Yazdan cannot knowThe goodness that His gifts on mortals bestow.

On rock and plain both lion and leopard breed;In water both fish and nahangs give heed.

They rear their young and guard them year by year,And send their praise to God with hearts sincere.

You broke the covenant goodness had laid,And threw your guiltless child away, betrayed.

White hair alone distressed you at the sight;His body was both pure and shining bright.

Do not declare that child already dead;Prepare yourself and seek him out instead.

Whomever God preserves within His holdWill not be ruined either by heat or cold.

To God now turn in penitence and pray;Through good and evil He alone shows way.”

Next day the grieving champion chose to go,Toward lofty Mount Alborz he rode in woe.

When night grew dark, his troubled thoughts ran deep,And once again his mind inclined to sleep.

Again he dreamed: from lofty Mount Hind’s heightA towering banner rose into his sight.

A handsome youth appeared beneath its blaze,A mighty army ranked behind his gaze.

A Mobad stood in honor at his side;A famous sage stood opposite as guide.

One of the two stepped toward the champion near,And opened bitter speech for Sahm to hear:

“O reckless man, your judgment brings you blame;Before Yazdan you cast aside all shame.

If birds can nurse a child and see it grow,What worth has all the strength that you can show?

If whitening hair in men deserves reproof,Your beard and head bear willow leaves as proof.

God gave both father and the son you spurned;Through your injustice, gifts from Him are burned.

Then turn against the Maker if you blameThe daily changing colors of your frame.

The son you held in scorn and cast awayIs fostered by the Maker every day.

No nurse could show him kinder, deeper care;While you yourself have little love to share.”

Within his sleep Sahm roared in fierce despair,Like some wild lion struggling in a snare.

He feared the dream and what Time might reveal,What harsher lesson next its wheel might deal.

Awake, he called the learned and the wise,And seated all his army chiefs before his eyes.

Then to the mountain Sahm made haste, to findThe guiltless child that he had left behind.

A mountain thrust its head through Pleiades’ light,As though it meant to draw a star from height.

Upon it rose a nest so vast and high,That Saturn’s stroke could never reach its sky.

Its pillars, ebony and sandal, stood;All interlaced with fragrant aloeswood.

Sahm stared at hard rock and the fearful nest;The Simorgh’s savage grandeur gripped his breast.

Its summit reached Simak in heaven’s span;No stone or earth had raised it, nor a man.

A youth moved round the nest in noble guise,His father’s likeness clear before Sahm’s eyes.

He blessed the Maker, bowing to the ground,And rubbed his cheeks upon the stones around.

He praised the God who made that bird arise,And raised from rock her dwelling toward the skies.

Then Sahm knew God, the Judge of every claim,Supreme in might above the highest name.

He sought a road by which he might ascend;No beast could find a pathway to that end.

Still praising God, he circled all around,But nowhere found a path from lower ground.

He cried, “O One beyond all place and height,Beyond the rainbow, moon, and solar light,

In penitence before You I draw near;My head is bowed, my soul laid down in fear.

If this young man comes from my lawful line,Not evil Ahriman’s corrupted sign,

Then lend Your servant strength enough to climb,And take this sinner back in mercy’s time.”

The moment Sahm had ended that appeal,The Just One heard and set upon it His seal.

The Simorgh gazed from Alborz’ lofty height,And saw Sahm’s company come into sight.

She knew he came to seek the castaway;No love for her had brought him there that day.

She said, “O son of Sahm, who shared my lairAnd nest, and learned the hardships of this air,

I was your nurse and mother at your side;I was your good support, your strength and guide.

I named you Dastan for your father’s guile,For through his guile he cast you out awhile.

When you return, make that same naming known,And let your father know the name you own.

Your father Sahm is champion world-renowned,Among the great no nobler chief is found.

He comes upon this mountain seeking you;Your honor in his keeping will prove true.

The time has come; now safely you must go,To where your father waits for you below.”

The young man heard; his eyes ran full of tears,His heart grew heavy with the grief of years.

Though never yet had human speech been heard,From Simorgh he had learned the spoken word.

He spoke in Simorgh’s manner, clear and bold,Rich in deep wisdom and in knowledge old.

His speech, good sense, and judgment all were sound;And God had wrapped his frame in strength profound.

Then Dastan asked the Simorgh, “Can it beYou tire of my companionship and me?

Your nest has been my royal place of light;Your wings, the farr that makes my crown shine bright.

Next after God, my gratitude is dueTo you, who made each hardship easy too.”

Simorgh said, “Behold the Kayanian state,And learn the royal customs of the great,

Perhaps this nest will not persuade you to stay;Go now and test the shifting world and day.

I send you not from hatred or from spite;I send you toward the throne that is your right.

Your staying here would please me, keeping near;But kingship is the better path and sphere.

Take one of my own feathers with you still;Its farr will aid you when you face an ill.

If hardship ever comes and brings you fear,Or men speak good or evil in your ear,

Then cast one feather straight into the flame;Its farr will call me when you speak my name.

At once I shall come like cloud across the sky,And bear you safely back to Alborz high.

Forget not all your nurse’s love for you;Your love has torn my heart completely through.

Beneath my wing I raised you with my brood,As one among my chicks, with shelter and food.”

She soothed his heart and lifted him aloft,And bore him through the clouds on pinions soft.

She bore him through the air before Sahm’s sight;His silver hair streamed past his chest in white.

His frame was elephant-like, his face shone bright;His father saw and cried aloud with delight.

He bowed before the Simorgh to the ground,And joined his prayer with blessings all around:

“O queen of birds, the Just One gave to youGreat strength and power and honar shining through,

Because you bring the helpless aid in need;Among all judges, goodness marks your deed.

May all who wish you evil suffer wrong;Remain forever powerful and strong.”

At once the Simorgh rose in upward flight;Sahm and his company watched her out of sight.

Then Sahm examined Zal with deepest care,And found him fit the Kayanian crown to bear.

His breast and arms were lion-strong and bright;Sun-faced, sword-seeking, born for battle’s might.

His lashes pale, his eyes as pitch were black;Coral lips and blood-red cheeks no grace did lack.

Except his hair, no fault could Sahm declare;Nothing else invited blame or care.

Then Sahm’s whole heart became a heaven of joy,And blessings fell upon his stainless boy.

“My son,” he said, “make gentle now your heart;Do not recall the griefs that played their part.

I am God’s least and humblest servant still,And He has brought you back to me by will.

Before great God I swore this oath to keep:No hardness toward you shall within me sleep.

In good or evil I will seek what you choose;Whatever you desire I shall not refuse.”

He clothed the youth in champion’s robe and gown,Then with him left the mountain and came down.

Below the mountain Sahm measured his frame,And called for royal robes that fit the same.

Sahm named him Zal-e-Zar before them all;Dastan was what the Simorgh used to call.

The whole assembled army gathered round;With open hearts, their cries of joy resound.

The drummers led the elephant in line;Indigo dust rose mountain-high behind.

The kousts and karnays thundered long and loud;Gold bells and Indian bells rang through the crowd.

The riders raised their cries along the way,And traveled onward joyfully that day.

They reached the city, joyful at the last,And with its champions through the gateway passed.

From Zabul word had reached the Shah afar:Sahm left the mountain, bearing sacred farr.

Manuchehr then rejoiced at what he heard,And praised the World-Creator with each word.

Two chosen sons had Manuchehr beside,Both wise and brave, with Faith and farr allied.

Nohzar was one; Zarasp the other name,Like Azargashasp upon the field of fame.

He ordered Nohzar, “Ride at once and goTo Sahm the champion; let no hindrance grow.

Behold young Dastan, Sahm’s returning line,The mountain brood has reared him strong and fine.

Give him the Kayanian blessing from my hand,And bless the joy that brings him to the land.

Then bid him come before my royal seat,And make the hidden story full and complete.

Afterward let them toward Zabul go,As servants of the crown their duty show.”

When Nohzar reached great Sahm upon the way,A new world-champion stood in bright array.

Sahm sprang down from his horse as Nohzar came;They clasped each other, glad in heart and frame.

Of Shah and chiefs the Pahlevan inquired;Then Nohzar gave the message he desired.

When Sahm had heard what mighty Shah required,He kissed the earth, and swiftly he retired.

Then swiftly toward the royal court he sped,Just as the crown-seeking Shah had said.

As Sahm approached the royal city’s gate,The army-chief came out in ordered state.

When Manuchehr’s great standard rose ahead,Sahm left his horse and walked the road instead.

He kissed the earth and blessed the king: “May youLive ever glad, your spirit bright and true.”

Manuchehr had the pure-hearted warrior rideBeside him, worshipful and dignified.

Together crown-wearer and crown-seeker wentToward throne and hall, on royal purpose bent.

Manuchehr mounted gladly to his throne,The Kayanian cap upon his head now shone.

At one hand Gharan sat, at one sat Sahm;Both bright of heart before the Shah were calm.

Then Zal came dressed before the royal gaze;Gold cap and golden gorz drew courtly praise.

The chamberlain brought Zal into the hall;The Shah stood struck with wonder over all.

So tall his stature, beautiful his face,He seemed the soul’s repose and love’s own grace.

The Shah told Sahm, “Receive him in your trust;Guard him with care; toward him be always just.

Do not afflict him needlessly with grief;Let joy in him surpass all other relief.

He bears Kayanian farr and lion’s claw,A wise man’s heart, an elder’s sense of law.

Teach him the road and instruments of war,And banquet joy and all the feast-day lore.

He knows but bird and mountain, nest and sky;How should he know the ways that humans live by?”

Then Shah asked of the Simorgh and the height,And why the honored child had known such plight.

Sahm told it all, each hidden thing and known,Of sleep and food and where the boy had grown.

He told how Zal was cast away in scorn,And how the sky had turned since he was born.

In time the tale spread out through every town;The names of Zal and Simorgh won renown.

“By order of Yazdan of earth I wentTo Alborz, harsh and steep, on search intent.

I saw a mountain with its head in cloud,A rocky heaven above the waters proud.

Upon it rose a dwelling, palace-high,With every road of harm shut fast nearby.

Within were Simorgh’s chicks and Zal beside;They seemed as peers together there allied.

The breeze that touched him carried love through air;His memory brought joy against despair.

No path led upward from a single side;Around the mountain searching hard I tried.

Desire for my lost son rose fierce and fast;My heart burned so my life seemed near its last.

I spoke in secret to the Judge most pure:‘Healer of creatures, needing no one’s cure,

Your proof and power reach every hidden place;The sphere turns only by Your will and grace.

A sinful servant stands before Your light,O Lord of sun and moon in endless height.

My hope rests only in Your pardoning hand;I have no other refuge where I stand.

This bird-reared servant, humbled, sorrow-bred,Was raised in wretchedness, by hardship fed.

He wears rough hide where silk should wrap his breast;On flesh, not mother’s milk, his life must rest.

Restore him to me; make a pathway clear;Lead me to him and end this pain and fear.

For my cruel deed, do not burn my soul;Forgive me, light my heart and make it whole.’

By Yazdan’s will, the moment I had prayed,My prayer was heard, and answer swiftly made.

The Simorgh beat her wings and climbed the cloud,Then wheeled above my head in circles proud.

She left the mountain like a cloud in spring,With Zal held close beneath her mighty wing.

His scent filled all the world with musk that day;My eyes and lips grew dry in strange dismay.

From awe of her and longing for my child,My reason fled; my senses all ran wild.

She brought him to me like a nurse whose artWas fed from love and mercy in the heart.

My tongue broke into praise before the bird;I bowed to Simorgh, awed by what occurred.

She left my son with me and took her way;None may resist what Yazdan wills each day.

I brought him here before the world’s great king,And told the hidden truth of everything.”

Shah called on Mobadan, stargazers, wise,And learned men who read the wheeling skies.

“Find Zal’s own star and tell what lord of fateHolds sway above that star and rules its state.

When he grows great, what path will be his own?Declare each sign; let nothing rest unknown.”

The Mobadan and the stargazers beganTo read each sign according to its span.

They said, “O Shah who wears the royal crown,Live joyful while the turning years roll down.

This youth will rise, a Pahlevan of fame,In wisdom, war, and courage earn his name.”

The Shah rejoiced to hear the judgment said;From Sahm’s deep heart the weight of grief had fled.

The Shah prepared a robe of honor bright,That drew from all who saw it praise and delight:

Arabian steeds in golden trappings came,And Indian swords in golden sheaths aflame;

Brocade and fur, red rubies, heaps of gold,And carpets, spreads, and fabrics, fold on fold;

Young Roman servants dressed in Roman weave,With gold and gems worked thick on every sleeve;

Peridot trays and turquoise cups were shown,Raw silver, red gold, bright before the throne;

With musk and camphor, saffron rich and rare,The servants bore them, perfuming the air;

Jowshans, helms, bargostvans, gear for the field,Spear, gorz, bow, arrow; arms a chief might wield;

A turquoise throne, gold crown, ruby sign,And golden girdle completed the design.

Then Manuchehr composed a charter fair,All filled with praise, like paradise laid bare.

All Kabul, Danbar, Mai, and Hind were named,From Chin’s vast sea to Sind the grant was framed.

From Zabul to the Sea of Bost it ran;By royal form they sealed the charter’s span.

When charter, robe, and gifts were then set right,They called for Sahm’s own horse to stand in sight.

Then Sahm arose: “O chosen lord and just,In righteousness your people place their trust.

From Fish below to Moon’s revolving sphere,In justice, no crowned Shah has been your peer.

Through kindness, goodness, judgment, wisdom true,The age itself finds happiness in you.

All worldly treasure seems to you but small;May life, not merely name, outlast us all.”

He kissed the throne; upon an elephant’s backThey firmly bound the koust for Zabul’s track.

Toward Zabulistan then they made their way;The city, lane by lane, watched their array.

As they drew near Nimruz, the tidings spread:“The radiant chief approaches at the head.

He comes with robe, gold crown, and charter sealed,The golden girdle of his rank revealed.”

Sistan was dressed like paradise of old;Its flowers breathed musk, its very bricks were gold.

They mingled musk with gold across the street,And saffron with bright silver at their feet.

A joy spread through the world, and lifted highThe hearts of all who dwelt beneath the sky.

Wherever lived a chief who sought a name,From every land toward Sahm the nobles came.

“May this youth’s step bring fortune to your hall,O Sahm, famed Pahlevan, chief of all.”

They blessed the Pahlevan with joyful cry,And showered Zal-e-Zar with gems piled high.

Whoever merited a robe of state,Received one fitted to his rank and fate.

Each robe was measured to the wearer’s place;All sought a higher rank and greater grace.

Then Sahm set forth before his noble sonThe kingly virtues that must all be won.

He summoned chiefs and elders, all his peers,And spoke at length to fill their waiting ears:

“O wise Mobadan, whose counsel steadies all,Whose hearts stand firm whatever may befall,

Our sovereign wills that I should take the field,To march on Mazandaran, spear and shield.

Against Gorgasaran I now must go,With gathered troops to meet the rising foe.

My son, my life, my blood, my heart’s own share,Remains behind entrusted to your care.

In youth’s wild pride I judged him harshly then,And cast him out, unworthy among men.

God gave this shining son; I turned away,Blind to his worth, led by my pride astray.

The Simorgh bore him to her mountain height,Yet Heaven never left him without light.

What I rejected, that great bird held dear,And reared him strong, a cypress tall and clear.

When time for mercy came, Yazdan aboveRestored him to me in enduring love.

So, know him as the memory I leave,And as my trust, this charge from me receive.

Teach him all virtue, guide his growing mind,And form his heart to be both wise and kind.

Honor him well, give counsel firm and wise,And raise his spirit toward the highest prize.

For I must go, as royal duty binds,With other chiefs to face what fate assigns.”

He turned to Zal and spoke in softer tone:“Rule here in peace, let Zabul be your own.

Let justice guide you, let your bounty flow,And make this land in beauty ever grow.

Let friends know joy, let strangers find their rest,Let all live safe, in quiet plenty blest.

My treasury I give to you to keep,Your gain is mine, your loss cuts just as deep.

In feast or war, let judgment lead your way;Do what your spirit bids without delay.”

Then Zal replied: “How shall I linger here?My birth has branded me a thing of fear.

If ever one was flawed from life’s first breath,I am the one cast out to shame and death.

Do not now keep me further from your side,Now peace has come, and fate has turned its tide.

When I was reared beneath the bird’s embrace,And fed on blood in that wild, lonely place,

With dust my bed, and sky my only dome,That wondrous bird became my kin and home.

Men counted me no man, but beast or bird;So fate pronounced its harsh and bitter word.

She that once raised me now is far away!Such is the path that destiny did lay.

No rose is mine, its thorns alone I claim;I bow beneath the burden and the shame.”

Then Sahm replied: “Let grief depart your breast;Speak what you wish; your heart shall be at rest.

The stars themselves have spoken in your name:A crown awaits you, and enduring fame.

This land is yours, with army, throne, and reign;Against the will of Heaven all strife is vain.

Your task is justice, spread it far and wide;Let wisdom ever be your constant guide.

Draw near the wise and learn from all you hear;Keep men of insight always standing near.

Be swift in bounty, open-handed, just;In knowledge and in judgment place your trust.”

He ceased. Tabiras sounded, deep and loud;The earth turned iron beneath an ebony cloud.

The gong and Indian bell together rangFrom the royal tent as marching columns sprang.

With ordered troops and banners raised on high,Sahm rode beneath the darkened, brazen sky.

For two long stages Zal rode at his side,To watch his father lead the men in pride.

At last, they parted, clasped in fierce embrace;Grief surged, and tears ran down young Zal’s pale face.

Sahm sent him back: “The realm is in your care;Take crown and throne and cast aside despair.”

Yet Zal went back with sorrow in his breast,A joyless crown, a heart denied its rest.

He mounted then the ivory throne of state,And set the shining crown of kingly weight.

He took the armlet, ox-head gorz in hand,Gold torque and girdle, fitted as was planned.

He called Mobadan from each distant land,To teach him all a king must understand.

Astrologers and priests of sacred lore,Brave warriors seasoned in the arts of war,

Stood by him daily, guiding every choice,On all affairs of state they lent their voice.

So well, he learned that all who saw him said:“A star has risen, shining overhead.”

In policy and judgment none could standTo match the insight of his ruling hand.

In worldly rule he rose to heights of fame,And great men spoke in wonder of his name.

Men, women thronged to gaze upon his frame,And marveled at his beauty and his claim.

For though his hair was white as camphor’s thread,It crowned him like a king’s most noble head.