Book D8The Shapur Zul-Aktaf Cycle and Later Early Sasanian Reigns

Not long had passed before she bore a son,A child as radiant as the shining sun.

A dehqan bard, born of a Mobad line,Passed on this tale; his telling now is mine.

The Mobad named him Shapur, held a feast,And joy spread wide from greatest man to least.

The infant bore the signs of royal grace,And wisdom’s banner shaded his young face.

At forty days, they called for strings and wine;Prepared, the royal throne stood bright and fine.

The nobles came with golden girdles fair,And raised the crown above the royal heir.

They fed the infant milk till satisfied,Then wrapped him safe in silk on every side.

At forty days, beneath the crown of gold,They set him on his father’s throne of old.

They blessed him as their king with reverent care;The chiefs paid homage, showering gems through air.

A Mobad known as Mehri, wise and bright,Was fit for service, and his heart was light.

He took a golden seat before the king,And pledged the service he had come to bring.

He ruled with justice, wisdom as his guide,And led the troops to goodness far and wide.

He filled the royal stores, the troops supplied,And decked his throne and halls on every side.

Thus five years passed beneath the turning sky;The child grew tall and held his head up high.

Attended by that sage of high renown,The Shah then sat in Tisfoon’s royal town.

The sun turned yellow as the day withdrew,And evening spread its veil of lapis blue.

A roar came from the road by Arvand’s flow;The Shah asked what that sound might mean below.

The Mobad answered that young king of worth:“Pure-hearted Shah, whose steps bring luck to earth,

The market folk now leave their shops to goBack to their homes, as evening shadows grow.

Across the Tigris, meeting face to face,They tread the narrow bridge in crowded space.

Each fears the waves and water far below;Their shouts roar like a torrent in full flow.”

Shapur replied, “O sages of my state,O wise and honored men, in counsel great,

Another bridge must span the river’s track:One lets them leave, the other brings them back.

Let troops and common folk all cross with ease;And those who serve us find the same release.

Let none be burdened on that crowded way;Give freely from our stores the cost to pay.”

The Mobadan rejoiced at what was seen:The tender tree had grown so fresh and green.

As young Shapur commanded, they obeyed;Their chief gave orders, and the plans were laid.

His mother’s heart rejoiced; she chose him guides,To teach the lore in which good sense resides.

So swiftly did his understanding rise,He soon surpassed his teachers, learned and wise.

At seven, on the field he learned to fight,And played at polo with a rider’s might.

At eight, he learned the manners of the court;He seemed Shah Bahram in both grace and sport.

He grew in honor, proud of his own worth,And made Istakhr his seat upon the earth.

He kept his noble forebears’ ways of old,Those chosen, pure, exalted men extolled.

Soon after Shapur’s royal crown grew bright,The world shone in its ever-growing light.

Tair, the Ghassanid, rose fierce in pride;His scimitar could cleave the heavens wide.

From Rum and Pars, with Kurdish troops, they came,From Bahrain, Kadisiya, drawn by fame.

Up to Tisfoon his mighty army poured,Beyond the count that knowledge could record.

He gave the country up to spoil and flame;Who could resist him or escape his name?

He heard of Nusha, fair and young of face,The Shah’s own aunt, a flower of royal race.

He sought her palace while the city cried;All Tisfoon was filled with fear inside.

They seized her there and bore her far away;Unwise, they would not hear what sense might say.

When one full year had passed beneath his power,Her heart bled from her thoughts through every hour.

She bore a moonlike girl, whose royal graceShowed crowned and throned King Narsi in her face.

Her father named her Malika, and knewHis daughter worthy of a kingdom too.

At twenty-six, Shapur had reached his prime,A sunlike monarch in his youthful time.

He mustered all his troops upon the plain,And chose twelve thousand warriors from the train.

For each he gave a camel, swift and fast,And chose a hundred guides from first to last.

The warriors mounted; each one led a steed,Equipped for desert march and battle need.

He marched in chase of Ghassan’s king of might,Proud Tair, like a raging lion in fight.

Shapur cut down Tair’s men left and right;When Tair saw, he turned his back in flight.

Then hue and cry arose along the way;They seized the captives in that fierce affray.

Within a fort in Yemen, people wailed,Men, women, children, as their courage failed.

Shapur brought such a force along the track,No ant or gnat could pass from front to back.

He found Tair with his troops, hemmed in tight,And blocked their paths of battle and of flight.

A month the battle raged without a break;The stores within the fort ebbed in its wake.

At early dawn Shapur took up his bow,And rode with ardor out to meet the foe.

The rider wore black armor on his breast;A black flag flew above his helmet’s crest.

Then Malika looked down from fortress height,And saw the flag and rider armed for fight.

His cheeks were rose-leaves; musk perfumed his hair;His lips like jujubes, crimson-ripe and fair.

From Malika all sleep and peace had flown,For love had made her heart no more her own.

Possessed by love, she sought her nurse and said,“This sunlike Shah comes here for Tair’s head.

He shares my blood, a lord of royal fame;To me the whole world lives within his name.

To Shah Shapur convey my secret plea;He comes for war; bring wedding joy from me.

Say, ‘You and I are of one royal race,And both bear brave Narsi’s ancestral grace.

I share your vengeance; I am kin to you,Nusha’s own daughter, of your lineage true.

If you will marry me, the hold is yours,And I, the beauty housed within its doors.

Now through my nurse confirm what you have heard,And pledge your honor with a binding word.’”

The nurse replied, “I hear and will obey;I shall return with what the Shah may say.”

When night upon the earth assumed command,From sea to sea its armies held the land.

The hills turned indigo; the stars burned bright,Like lamps above the darkened earth at night.

Three hundred thousand candles seemed to flare,Hung from the sky’s high fortress in the air.

The trembling nurse went out; her terror grew;The thought of Tair split her heart in two.

She reached the royal tent, and drawing near,Approached a guide to gain the monarch’s ear.

“If you will bring me to the Shah tonight,You shall receive a crown and ring made bright.”

That prudent man then brought her to be seenBefore the valiant Shah of kingly mien.

She came, swept dust with lashes at his feet,And told him all in words both clear and sweet.

Her message filled the Shah with glad delight;He smiled and gave a thousand dinars bright.

Two bracelets, necklace, crown he handed down,With a brocade cloak, Chin’s work of renown.

He said, “Speak softly to that moonlike maid;Let many gentle words her heart persuade.

By sun and moon, by Zoroaster’s name,By sacred girdle, crown, and glory’s flame,

Whatever she may ask, I shall bestow,Though through that gift my royal power sinks low.

No hurtful word from me shall reach her ear;I shall not leave her arms, but hold her dear.

To wed her, by God’s will, I yield my crown,My throne, my troops, my treasure all laid down.”

The nurse returned at once, as he decreed,And told the silver cypress all agreed.

She said, “Now Venus has conjoined the sun,”And joy and hope within her soul were one.

She told of Shah Shapur, his face and frame,And all the royal splendor of his name.

The sun revealed its crown of golden light;The teak-dark earth bloomed yellow at the sight.

She won the treasurer and minister’s aid,And took the keys where food and wine were laid.

For every chief within the fortress wall,And battle-seasoned captains, one and all,

She sent the chiefs and veterans lavish fare,With wine, narcissus, fenugreek to share.

She called the server, spoke with gracious art,And placed her secret purpose in his heart.

“Tonight pour wine for Tair without delay,Poured straight, until his senses drift away.

Keep every man with brimming cup in hand,Until they fall asleep at my command.”

The server answered, “I am yours to give;I live because your will has let me live.”

At last the yellow sun sank from the sky;When murky night drew darkness from on high,

Tair called out for cups of royal wine,And first he named the Ghassanids’ proud line.

When one watch passed, Tair slept without care,Oblivious of the clamor everywhere.

All others drew away and went to rest;That moon then made her orders manifest.

She bade them whisper, silent as they crept,And open wide the gate while warders slept.

Shah Shapur watched and waited through the night;The drunken clamor stirred his wrath to fight.

A light shone from the gate; the Shah then cried,“Now waking fortune stands upon our side!”

He bade them lodge the maiden, fair of face,Within the women’s quarters, in her place.

He gathered all his forces for the fight,And chose brave men approved in valor’s light.

He brought his footmen forward, horsemen too,All men who knew what battle called them to.

He stormed the hold and slew men in the fray;They seized the ancient treasures stored away.

Within the hold, Tair’s soldiers lay asleep,Too many, drunk with wine, for count to keep.

The other sleepers woke in sudden fright,And everywhere made ready for the fight.

Not one would turn his back beneath the raid;The Shah cut down the warriors who stayed.

Tair was captured, stripped of all his pride,And hurried naked to Shapur’s side.

The hold and all its riches were his prize;Its wicked men stood bound before his eyes.

He waited till the dawn; when daylight blazed,They raised a turquoise throne while all men gazed.

As custom ordered, in the fortress hall,He held a royal audience for all.

When Shah Shapur dismissed the gathered band,The rose of early spring came at command.

She wore a ruby crown, and fold on foldOf Chinese brocade shone with woven gold.

He seated her beside him in her place,And called for bound Tair before her face.

Tair came bareheaded, bound, disgraced, and shamed,And saw his daughter crowned and brightly famed.

He knew the plot was hers, that her own artHad shaken throne and rule and wrung his heart.

He said, “O noble Shah, now look and seeHow my own child has dealt so hard with me.

Beware her love; regard all strangers hereAs hidden foes whom every king should fear.”

Shapur replied, “You seized, to our great shame,Narsi’s own daughter; Nusha was her name.

You dragged her from seclusion, shamed our race,And stirred the sleeping feud you now must face.”

He bade the headsman sever Tair’s head,Then burn his body when the man lay dead.

They dragged his head through blood in foul disgrace,Then bore it out and took it from that place.

He let no Arab captive plead his case;No lips could open there before his face.

He tore their shoulder blades from either side;The world looked on in wonder, far and wide.

Thus Arabs named him Zul-Aktaf in dread,For shoulders torn from spines, as terror spread.

He turned to Pars, where all before him bowed,And paid him homage, gathered crowd on crowd.

Those spared with shoulders whole paid tax and toll,And rendered every due with heart and soul.

Thus heaven turned awhile, then changed its face;The Shah no longer held its former grace.

The day came when Shapur, though crowned with power,Dreaded what fate might bring in some dark hour.

When three full watches of the night had crept,He woke his learned astrologers, who slept.

He asked what waited for the throne ahead,What joy or sorrow heaven’s book had said.

The sage brought out his astrolabe to readThe heavens, giving sleep and rest no heed.

He watched the Lion’s Heart, whose shining lightForetells good fortune and success in fight.

They sought if harm would reach the royal head,Or grace grow greater where his path was led.

When they had read the signs, they answered low:“O pure of heart, great Shah, this much we know:

A grievous trial waits, with pain and dread;None dares describe the grief that lies ahead.”

Shapur replied, “O learned men of skill,What art can bend or break this evil will?

How may this danger pass and leave me sound,And my ill star not trample me to ground?”

The sage replied, “O Shah, no man can flyBeyond the turning of the restless sky.

No courage, skill, or knowledge sets men free,Though sage or warrior each may strive to be.

We cannot strive with heaven’s turning will;What must befall will surely meet us still.”

The noble Shah replied, “May God be near,Our refuge from each evil that we fear.

He made the lofty heavens circle all,He fashioned strength and weakness, rise and fall.”

The Shah spread justice through the realm he had;For some time, free from trouble, he was glad.

When he had made the realm secure and great,He longed to view Rum’s cities and its state.

He wished to see the might of Caesar’s reign,His troops, his wealth, his power, and his domain.

He told his minister the plan he nursed,A Pahlevan, bold, just, in prudence versed.

He hid the plan from every other ear,And told his minister in counsel clear:

“Rule justly while I journey out of sight;Let justice bring you joy in doing right.”

Ten camel trains he readied for the road,And over each a driver with his goad.

He loaded thirty camels down with gold,The rest with silk and jewels in their hold.

He left the peopled lands with inward pain,And journeyed full of care toward Rum’s domain.

A village near the city came in view,Where dehqans lived, and city people too.

He sought a householder and asked him clear,“Good sir, may I be given lodging here?”

His men received him with a welcome cheer:“How rare a guest like you should now appear!”

He ate and gave rich presents in return,And won the blessings generous hearts can earn.

At dawn he packed and left his host’s domain,And sped to Caesar’s palace with his train.

He came before the chamberlain, and paidSalute, and at his feet his presents laid.

The elder asked, “Who are you? Tell me true,For kingly limbs and looks appear in you.”

Shapur replied, “Not I; I am no king,A pious Iranian; goods I bring.

From Jaz I came with merchandise for sale,With silk and linen, bundled bale on bale.

I seek admission here, in hope to standBefore great Caesar, ruler of this land.

If in my goods, my gems, or arms there liesSomething that pleases Caesar’s royal eyes,

Let him accept my gifts and store them here;His treasury’s gain will give me joy and cheer.

The rest shall go for silver and for gold;Safe in his care, my trading shall be bold.

Then I shall purchase what I need to gainFrom Rum, and bear it home to Iran’s plain.”

The elder bore the word to Caesar’s ear;He rose and told him why the guest was here.

Then Caesar bade them draw the curtain wide,And let the merchant through to come inside.

He granted audience; Shapur then drew near,And offered praise in language bright and clear.

While Caesar gazed on him, he liked him well,And gave his heart to Shapur’s beauty’s spell.

He bade them set the board and bring the wine;They decked the hall and made the palace shine.

In Rum there lived a man of Iran’s kind,World-traveled, but unjust and harsh of mind.

He said, “Great Caesar, hear my secret word;I bring you news that you have never heard.

He takes our gold for silks and costly things,But he is Shapur, lord of Iran’s kings.

In speech, in face, in grace, in every sign,I know Shapur, the Shah of Iran’s line.”

When Caesar heard, amazement darkened him;He stared at Shapur, troubled, stern, and grim.

He set a guard, but told no other ear,And kept the secret hidden from all here.

When Shah Shapur rose drunken from the wine,Still Caesar watched his face for every sign.

A guard seized him: “What wonder meets my eyes!Shapur of Narsi’s line in this disguise!”

They took him to the women’s rooms and tiedHis hands; no strength can thrust his fate aside.

What use are all the stars that sages read,When all their knowledge fails us in our need?

They lit a candle by the drunken king,And sewed him in a donkey hide with string.

All said, “The wretch has gained a donkey skin,And lost the throne his pride had wrapped him in.”

They bore him to a narrow, darkened cell,A luckless captive, brought in haste to dwell.

They flung him down upon that prison floor,Then fixed a lock upon the chamber door.

Then Caesar gave the key and captive’s careTo his own wife, and warned her to beware.

“Give bread and water, lest his soul departToo soon and end the torment I impart.

If he survives a while, then he shall knowThe worth of throne and crown through this great woe.

No man who is not born of Caesar’s lineShould dream of Caesar’s throne or covet mine.”

She locked the cell; her own rooms lay elsewhere,Within another hall she took her chair.

She had a moon-faced treasurer, a maidWhose trusted counsel gave her every aid.

She knew her fathers’ names and lineage well;Her roots in Iran she could clearly tell.

The queen gave her the key, and bade her guardShapur, sewn in the hide, his cell door barred.

That day great Caesar led his troops outside,And left Shapur imprisoned in the hide.

In Iran, Caesar’s soldiers drew the blade,And through the realm a path of ruin made.

They carried captives off from every place,And none stood forth to shield Iran’s own race.

Iran was stripped of women, men, and gold,Of children, goods, and stores from kings of old.

No tidings reached the troops, no word was spread,Whether Shapur still lived on or lay dead.

Iran’s inhabitants fled Rum in dread;The land lay empty where its people fled.

Countless Iranians chose the Christian creed;The bishops ruled the land in word and deed.

Time passed; Iran’s army scattered wide,Its broken ranks dispersed on every side.

In Rum, his keepers held him fast in thrall,And never let him slip beyond the wall.

The maid took no delight in Shapur’s pain;Her own descent was from Iran’s domain.

Her heart burned for the captive, and she criedTo see him in his plight, sewn in that hide.

She said, “O noble man, what is your name?Speak without fear and tell from where you came.

Within this ass’s hide your noble frameFinds no repose and bears this bitter shame.

You were a cypress with the moon for crown,And musk-black curls upon that moon hung down.

Your lofty cypress bends into a hoop;Your elephantine limbs like reeds now droop.

My heart is burning, and my eyes still weepFor you by day and through the hours of sleep.

What do you seek, what hope, what hidden fear?Why keep your secret hidden from my ear?”

Shapur replied, “Fair maid, if in your heartYou feel some love for me, then do your part.

Swear me an oath that you will never break,And keep it always, for my anguish’s sake.

Swear not to tell my foes what I reveal,Remember all the anguish I conceal.

Then I shall tell you truly who I am,And speak without deceit, disguise, or sham.”

The damsel swore by God, the All-just Lord,The deacon’s seventyfold encircling cord.

By Christ’s life and the Cross, its pain and tear,By Iran’s ruler, and by love and fear.

“I will not tell, nor profit from your fall,Nor give your secret to your foes at all.”

He told her all, the good as well as bad,His hidden fate and every grief he had.

He said, “If you will do what I command,And keep my secret firm within your hand,

Your head shall rise above all women’s fame,The world lie at your feet, to serve your name.

At mealtime bring me milk, and warm it well,In secret, gently; let no other tell.

I soak this donkey hide; its tale shall runThroughout the world when all this grief is done.

Long after I have died, through many a year,The wise will tell the tale for men to hear.”

The damsel strove to gather up the milk,And moved in secret, watchful, soft as silk.

She took a bowl of milk and brought it nearThe fire, to warm it for the captive here.

Then bore it to Shapur unseen by all,And told no other person, great or small.

For fourteen days she softened all the hide,Until it yielded, pliant on each side.

He left the hide, his body stained with blood,His heart still aching beneath sorrow’s flood.

He said in trust, “O pure and watchful maid,Kind in your deeds and steadfast in your aid,

We must consult and choose the wisest way,To flee from Rum and reach Iran one day.

May blessing never rest on such a land,Where kings are sewn in hide by tyrant hand.”

The damsel said, “Tomorrow, on the plain,The Roman chiefs will feast with all their train.

The men and women, children, one and all,Will join the feasting past the city wall.

When Caesar’s queen has passed beyond the gate,Then I shall act before it grows too late.

The house will empty stand; I shall prepareOur flight, and fear no watcher and no snare.

Two steeds, two gorzes, arrows, and a bowI shall provide, all ready when we go.”

Shapur praised her foresight and grew bold,And took her counsel as more dear than gold.

He fixed his purpose, planning what to do,And sought two noble horses, weapons too:

A sword and gorz, and armor for the steed,With jowshan, helmet, fit for warriors’ need.

He settled all his thoughts and made his choice,With wisdom as his guide and ruling voice.

When light’s own fountain sank into the west,And night drew pitch across its darkened breast,

Shapur mused long: “What will the dawn reveal?Will all her promised cunning now prove real?”

The sun in Leo rose, and day grew strong,And sleep from all the city slipped along;

The great men of the town went to the feast,From highest lord down to the very least.

The damsel, like a man of practiced art,Began at once to play her secret part.

She held the empty palace in her care,Her lion-heart and leopard-claws laid bare.

She brought two noble horses from the stall,Then chose the finest weapons in the hall.

She gathered what they needed: pearls and gold,With rubies and supplies for flight, all told.

When all was set, and night hid Rum’s high dome,The pair resolved to flee from Caesar’s home.

Two guards who kept the watch became awareThat Shah Shapur was leaving from their care.

They spurred in his pursuit with all their force,And overtook the famous warrior’s horse.

They seized his reins; the Shah sprang up to fight,Upright within his saddle, full of might.

He gripped one by the head and flung him low,Down to the earth beneath that crushing throw.

When both lay lifeless, fallen on the ground,The Shah and maid rode on, for Iran bound.

They started forth toward Iran’s distant land,In secret joy, to seek a safer strand.

They hurried on; they did not halt to eat,Nor let the need for sleep delay their feet.

From city roads through thorn-brakes on they sped,Till Khuzian lay before them, far outspread.

When steeds and riders fainted from the ride,They sought a place where they might safely hide.

They came upon a village, lush and green,With gardens, parks, and feasting-grounds between.

Worn out by toil, they sought a place to stay,And knocked upon a gardener’s door that day.

A hospitable man came out to greetThe pair, kind-hearted, keen their needs to meet.

He saw them armed in jowshan, helm, and spear,And asked what strange occasion brought them here.

“Why this arrival at so strange an hour,Armed as for war against a hostile power?”

Shapur replied, “Good friend, you ask too muchOf one astray, whom grief has in its clutch.

I am a traveler born in Iran’s land,Who fled and sought this border’s sheltering hand.

I ache from Caesar and his army’s dread;May I no more behold his crown or head.

If you will shelter me this single night,And keep a warrior’s secret out of sight,

Be sure reward will one day come to you;The tree you plant will flourish, strong and true.”

The gardener answered, “This whole house is yours;I am your guest within these very doors.

Whatever I can do, I will perform,And tell no soul of you through calm or storm.”

Then Shah Shapur and she, a wayworn pair,Dismounted, glad of roof and humble fare.

The gardener’s wife made food as she was able;They ate their bread beside her simple table.

When bread was eaten, they turned next to wine,Within a modest chamber’s plain design.

He brought the wine and raised the brimming cup;Released from hide, the Shah’s glad heart rose up.

The gardener set wine before his guest,And said, “Drink now to one you love the best.”

Shapur replied, “Good friend, both wise and good,Your speech is just and rightly understood.

The elder who has brought the wine should start,For age and wisdom earn the foremost part.

You are my elder, and the wine is yours;So drink before me here within your doors.”

The gardener said, “Great sir, the man of graceShould drink before the elder of this place.

Though you are young, your wisdom shines so clear,That age and insight in your words appear.

Your face bestows the beauty crowns would wear;The scent of musk comes wafting from your hair.”

Shapur smiled, took the wine, and from his breastHe drew a chilly sigh of grief suppressed.

Then asked his host, “O man of faith most pure,What news of Iran do you know for sure?”

The gardener said, “O you of kingly mind,May no foe ever harm your noble kind.

May every ill that Caesar brought our landFall on our foes beneath fate’s turning hand.

All Iran lies scattered, crops lost from sight,And slaughter has put out the country’s light.

Through plunder and the slaughter, men and wivesWere scattered far, in terror for their lives.

And many turned to Christ, and came to stand,Their girdles fastened, at the bishops’ hand.

Some wore the bishops’ caps upon their head,And sought in Rum a home and resting bed.”

Shapur then asked, “Where was Iran’s great lord,Whose moonlike radiance shone by God’s accord?

How could a Caesar dare to do such harm,And darken Iran with the Roman arm?”

The gardener replied, “May your days be blessed,And majesty for ever be your guest.

No news of him, alive or dead, has comeTo lords of Iran, left bereft and numb.

The people of Iran are slaves in Rum,And exile leaves their homes in ruined gloom.”

The gardener, who sheltered Shah Shapur,Then wept with grief no mortal could endure.

He added, “Stay three days within my door;My house will gain a luster evermore.

A sage once said when this old world was young:Who fails a guest deserves no praising tongue.

No wisdom dwells in him; his fortunes fall;His star grows dark, and want comes to his hall.

So rest awhile; then take a cup of wine,And when your heart is glad, reveal your line.”

Shapur replied, “Good; let our sheltering friendBe king of us while here our days we spend.”

He stayed that night, conversed, and ate his bread;At dawn, light rose above the mountain’s head.

When golden banners rose through valley haze,The gardener came to wish him happy days.

He said, “May fortune bless the dawning light;May rain-clouds roll beneath your noble height.

This poor abode was not a fitting place,Nor this a time of rest for one of grace.”

Shapur replied, “This house, my gracious host,Is dearer than the throne I cherish most.

Bring Zand-Avesta, bring the barsom near,That I may murmur prayers and question here.”

The gardener brought all the Shah required,And made a place for prayer as he desired.

Then as he prayed, the Shah said, “Guide my feetTo where the high Mobad has his retreat.”

The gardener replied, “O man sincere,Whose heart is pure, whose words are sweet to hear,

From where I sit, I see the house you seek;The high Mobad lives near, of whom you speak.”

The Shah then whispered, “Bring some sealing clay;The village chief may have some stored away.”

The gardener fetched it, hurried to obey,Returning quickly, making no delay.

The Shah impressed his signet as agreed,And blessed his host, who served him in his need.

He gave the clay back. “Bear this seal awayTo the high Mobad; mark what he will say.”

At dawn the gardener took the royal seal,And sought the high Mobad, its mark to reveal.

Armed guards stood stationed by the portal wall;The door stayed shut; they let in none at all.

He called aloud for entry to the hall;They opened, and he went in at their call.

Admitted, he drew near the priest and bentHis knee, and showed the seal his guest had sent.

When the high Mobad saw that royal name,His wise heart leapt with joy and grief aflame.

He wept upon the signet’s honored trace,Then asked, “What man has sent you to this place?”

The gardener said, “A Pahlevan stays here,My lord, within my house, with one maid near:

A slender cypress, wise and fair of face,A noble woman, bright with royal grace.”

The high Mobad asked, “This man in your care,What form and stature does the stranger bear?”

The gardener answered, “One who had not seenSpring, or a cypress by a river green,

Would find them in this stranger’s form and face,And feel his heart rejoice to see such grace.

His arms are like a camel’s thighs in might;Lion-chested, with a cheek blood-red and bright.

Shame takes its color from his grace alone;His face lends crown and throne a fairer tone.”

The wise high Mobad heard the gardener’s tale,And saw the truth beneath its slender veil.

“This lion-heart must be the Shah; his faceIs fit for nothing but the throne’s high place.”

He sought a prudent messenger and said,“Go to the chief then where the troops are spread.

The farr of Shah Shapur is now restored;Call back our scattered warriors to the sword.”

The Mobad’s envoy hurried on his way,To where the captain of the army lay.

The captain brightened; vengeance stirred within,His lips called out for battle to begin.

He said to God, “O righteous Judge, I bend;I serve You only, Guardian and Friend.

Who thought that Shah Shapur would meet againHis army, and be seen by all his men?

O just God, Master, source of every good,I thank You as a loyal servant should.”

When night raised up its sable flag on high,The stars and rounded moon shone in the sky.

The troops assembled from each distant side,Where their sepahbod had been forced to hide.

From every side the warriors hurried through,And hastened to the house by one and two.

They reached the gardener’s door with hearts aglow,And hailed their host with joy they longed to show.

The Shah received the warriors in his lair,Although his court was lowly, poor, and bare.

As they came in, they bowed with humble grace,And kissed the ground, each lowering his face.

The Shah embraced the chiefs and then beganTo tell his woes before each loyal man.

He told of suffering in the ass’s hide,Of Caesar’s words and all his Roman pride.

He told what Iran’s faithful slave had done,And how through her his freedom had been won.

“Through her and God, my life has been preserved;May Fortune grant her all she has deserved.

Whoever owns a virtuous slave should beHer servant in return, though crowned and free.

I am the slave of her whose loving mindIs open-hearted, just in deed, and kind.

Wherever I have troops throughout the land,Or roads and kingdoms under my command,

Send messengers to rouse each loyal lord,And post your scouts on every road and ford.

Above all, block the road toward Tisfoon;Let no report go forth by night or noon.

If Caesar hears the news of my return,And of my royal farr should come to learn,

Then he will crush my army in attack,And break Iran’s proud heart and mighty back.

We cannot meet his gathered strength in fight,Nor brave his rising star’s auspicious might.

When the Mobad arrives, his forces massed,Then we shall bar the road; no gnat slips past.

We shall lay plans in secret and prepareTo weed the garden, take them unaware.

Let watchers at each corner guard the way,With sentries through the night and scouts by day.

From now no Roman shall lie down to rest,With loosened girdle and a tranquil breast.”

Before much time had passed, the Shah could callSix thousand warriors, gathered one and all.

To Tisfoon Shapur sent his chiefs of old,Experienced men, discreet in what they told.

He bade them seek out Caesar’s state and bringTheir tidings to the court before the king.

They went at once and worked without a sound,In secret, learning all that passed around.

When they had seen it all, they hurried back,And told the Shah what Caesar’s forces lack:

“Wine and the hunt fill Caesar’s every thought;He gives no heed to battles to be fought.

His troops are scattered, pillaging the land;They plunder every region, band by band.

No scouts by day, no guards by night he keeps;His troops are sheep whose careless shepherd sleeps.

He sees no enemy on any side,And in such ease is happy to abide.”

Shapur rejoiced; like smoke his grief was gone;The news had freed the heart it weighed upon.

He chose three thousand riders for the fray,All mailed, on armored steeds to lead the way.

The Shah donned jowshan when the night grew black,And led his troops along the Tisfoon track.

He hurried onward through the dark of night,And turned aside when day restored its light.

Through desert tracts and mountain ridges stark,By path or none, he led them through the dark.

More than two farsangs out before the force,The scouts kept watch along and off their course.

They rode ahead until the Shah drew nearTo Tisfoon, with his army in their rear.

Three watches passed; he reached the camp that night,And feared no strength of Caesar’s in the fight.

No watchman’s cry, no drumbeat reached his ear;Nor any cockcrow could the monarch hear.

Pavilions spread across the desert space;None dreamed Shapur would come upon that place.

The camp was packed with soldiers everywhere;In his tent Caesar lay, drunk, free of care.

Shapur gave rein at once to his swift steed,And led his warriors on with royal speed.

He gripped his heavy gorz and spurred his horse;Behind him thundered all his charging force.

The karnays and the Indian bells rang round;The clouds rang back with clashing gorzes’ sound.

The battle cries rose loud on every side;The clash of weapons echoed far and wide.

One would have thought the vault of heaven tore,And from the sun red drops began to pour.

Kaveh’s bright banner blazed through smoky gloom;The violet swords flashed, heralding their doom.

As though the air rained swords, the blades flashed bright;The world was wrapped in mist throughout the fight.

The army’s dust concealed the mountain height;The stars drew in their skirts and hid their light.

Shapur laid Caesar’s great pavilion low,And overturned the dwelling of his foe.

They kindled fires in every place they found,As though to dash the heavens to the ground.

They slew so many Romans in the fray,The plain was strewn with limbs where bodies lay.

At last they seized proud Caesar in the raid;His fortunate star went dark and sank in shade.

Among the tents were Caesar’s noble train,His chosen horsemen, brave upon the plain.

They seized and bound them, men of high renown;So turns the lofty sky above each crown:

It lifts a man, then casts him down in fear;It grants delight, then brings his peril near.

To live without oppression, kind and just,Is best; God aids the man who keeps that trust.

When dawn arrived and night withdrew from sight,The sun’s bright banner filled the world with light.

Shapur called scribes with pen and paper near,With musk and sweet perfume among their gear.

To every province, king, and chief he wrote;These were the words that filled the royal note:

He opened thus: “Let all our praise be pouredFrom us, His servants, to the world’s great Lord.

Praise be to God, whose aid makes goodness rise,Who needs no helper under all the skies.

He made the ages and their onward flow;He teaches all the good that we may know.

Since Caesar broke God’s law in ruthless pride,And sowed his wrong through Iran far and wide,

His bonds now chafe him in his grief and pain,For wisdom never held his spirit’s rein.

He yielded up Iran’s imperial crown,And kept but infamy for his renown.

His court and army broke before God’s might;God showed our path and brought our cause to light.

Whatever Romans in your towns are found,Let all be struck by swords upon the ground.

Seek justice, follow every royal claim,And swear your fresh allegiance to my name.”

Swift camel riders bore the royal page,And spread Shapur’s command from stage to stage.

The Shah left camp and claimed the royal seat;In Tisfoon his counselors came to meet.

He wore the ancient crown of royal gold,And thanked the Giver whom all worlds behold.

He gave the gardener a robe of state,And gladdened him with honor rich and great.

He sent a scribe to where the captives lay,To set their names in ink without delay.

Eleven hundred two were found that day,Distinguished men of Rum’s renowned array.

All these were Caesar’s kinsmen, men of fame,Whose noble houses bore a foremost name.

The Shah cut off the hands and feet of thoseWho led the wrongs from which these sorrows rose.

He bade them summon Caesar to his stand,The ruler and commander of that land.

The guard dragged Caesar out, his hand held tight,Distraught, as though his mind had taken flight.

When he beheld Shapur’s imperial crown,From both his eyes the tears came streaming down.

He pressed his blood-red face upon the ground,And blessed the throne and crown, bowed low and bound.

He swept the earth with lashes, bending low,His chin pressed to the dust in grief and woe.

The Shah said, “You are evil through and through,A Christian, foe of God in all you do.

You give a son to Him who stands alone,Whose life no start or final end has known.

You know no speech but falsehood, wrong and dire;Lies give no light, though burning like a fire.

Where were your wisdom, modesty, and heart,When you, as Caesar, played so base a part?

Why bind me in an ass’s hide with shame,And cast to dust my royal rank and name?

I came to feast in merchant’s hidden guise;I brought no tabiras, no battle cries.

You bound your guest in hide, then chose to fight,And led your troops to Iran in your might.

Now learn what Iran’s valiant warriors bring;Then seek no further war against its king.”

“Great Shah,” said Caesar, “who can flee God’s will?His word must come to pass, for good or ill.

My royal throne drove wisdom from my mind,And made my soul the Div’s hired servant, blind.

By doing good for evil, your renownShall grow; the world shall hand your story down.

Your name shall never age, nor fame expire;By prowess you will compass all desire;

Grant me my life; all wealth is dust to me;No gold or treasure then shall precious be.

A slave, I shall attend your royal hall,And seek to grace your throne, and that is all.”

The Shah replied, “Vile wretch, why overturnThis land and leave its homes and fields to burn?

Now every captive borne from Iran’s shoreYou must return, their liberty restore.

Return the spoil you carried off to Rum;May you not see that cursed land: your doom.

Bring all those riches from your house again,And give them to this band of noble men.

Whatever lands in Iran you laid low,Where lions dwell and prowling leopards go,

Restore at your own cost, with gold you pay,And thus requite the wrongs you brought our way.

For each Iranian your soldiers slew,Choose men of royal Roman blood as due.

Give ten for one in payment to our land,And pledge their lives as surety in my hand.

I want no men but those of Caesar’s line,To live in joy within this land of mine.

For every tree you felled in Iran’s ground—No good man fells the trees of those around—

Plant trees and clean up walls throughout the plain,And cool the wrath that burns through every vein.

Now I shall bind you fast and hold you here;How could an ass’s hide be fitting gear?

If you fall short of all that I have said,My men shall strip your skin from foot to head.”

He split both ears with khanjar’s sharpened blade,And through his nose a narrow passage made.

He fixed a nose-rope, fastening through the slit,To answer ass-hide shame as he saw fit.

He loaded both his feet with heavy chain;The guards led Caesar back through fear and pain.

They set the muster and accounts in train,And sought the keys to where the gold had lain.

The troops assembled; Shapur paid their due,While wrath and thoughts of vengeance in him grew.

He marched from Iran into Roman land;Its people faced the fury of his band.

They slew the people and set homes aflame.The world blazed up wherever that force came.

News came to Rum: “Our fertile lands are torn,Their thriving fields and dwellings left forlorn.

And Caesar has been taken in the fight,Amid the ranks in darkness of the night.”

The people wept; at Shapur’s dreaded name,Their hearts were burned as though consumed by flame.

They said, “Our thankless Caesar caused this blow;His reckless deeds have brought upon us woe.”

Though Caesar’s father had already died,His mother lived, his brother’s strength and guide.

His brother Yanus, young, rejoiced in life,Was generous, and sought a conqueror’s strife.

The soldiers gathered at his palace gate;His warlike mother paid the troops of state.

She said, “Avenge your brother; take your stand!Do you not see Iran’s troops in our land?”

Then Yanus burned with wrath: “We must not hideOur vengeance for my brother,” he replied.

With tabiras he brought the Cross in sight,A mighty Cross, with troops of fearsome might.

The armies met each other face to face;No warrior found a moment’s resting place.

The ranks were formed; a mighty shout began;Yanus advanced before the Roman van.

On one flank mountain walls rose sheer and wide;Along the other ran the river tide.

Black clouds of dust rose up and drowned the way;No rider saw the path before the fray.

They fought until the sun turned yellow-gold,And battle’s dust rose round them, fold on fold.

They slew so many that the ground becameAll iron from the armor on each frame.

Shapur advanced his center for the fight,And called his chosen men from left and right.

The Shah and chiefs spurred on; the earth belowShook as the swaying ranks met foe to foe.

He charged the Roman line with furious flame;And every rank was overthrown the same.

Yanus perceived he could not stand his ground;He fled; his panicked troops streamed all around.

Shapur pursued and darkened all the air;His clouds of dust obscured the heavens’ glare.

On every side he heaped the Roman slain;And smeared with brains the earth along the plain.

The Roman dead lay strewn across the land,Heads without feet or trunks on every hand.

No Roman ranks or crosses stood their ground;No fort let bishop or his cross be found.

He gathered spoil until his troops were dazed,And all, astonished, at the treasure gazed.

He kept the wealth that Caesar had amassed,And all the other spoil to soldiers passed.

Yet all that treasure could not match the pain;The suffering outweighed the golden gain.

The Roman legions gathered, harsh and grim;They spoke of Caesar, laying blame on him.

“Let Caesar’s name be driven from our state;No chief like this shall ever guide our fate.”

Rum’s altars, crosses, vestments met their fall;No sign of Christ remained among them all.

The priests’ own girdles now to ash are turned;The archbishop’s own Cross is also burned.

Now Rum and Ghanooj stand alike in loss,For faint now sounds the summons of the Cross.

Wise Baranush was full of counsel sound,In mind and speech his wisdom could be found.

The army said, “Be Caesar; we are yours.Command this force, whose loyalty endures.

The troops will heed each word that you convey;Adorn the throne and crown with bright display.”

They set for him a throne of ivory white,And there he sat, crowned in his royal light.

The Romans hailed him Caesar, one and all;And gave him royal rank within the hall.

Then Baranush, for Rum’s sake, brooding deep,Weighed what the battlefield might make them reap.

He knew that war against Iran’s great kingWould death and ruin to the Romans bring.

He chose an envoy, modest, shrewd, and wise,Whose gentle words could counsel and advise.

A skilled and learned scribe, well trained in art,Experienced, clear of mind and true of heart.

He bade the scribe sit near him, and declaredHis subtle counsels, pondered and prepared.

The letter called for blessings from above,Upon the king of earth, with words of love:

“May your crown last forever, bright and great;May all the chiefs serve humbly at your gate.

You know that pillage, bloodshed, wrath outpoured,And swords turned on the guiltless are abhorred

By noble men, in Rum and Iran too;They deem such acts a shame in all men’s view.

If this old feud began with Iraj’s blood,Manuchehr answered it and stemmed the flood.

Now Salm is dust, and Tur has passed away;The earth is cleared of him who caused dismay.

If Dara’s feud with Iskandar now stirsIn Rum again, and fresh dispute occurs,

Two wicked ministers brought Dara low;From Iskandar good fortune turned to go.

If Caesar caused this war, he bears your chain;The fetters chafe him now in bitter pain.

Let Rum not sink in desolating flame;No other land has ever matched her name.

Now, if your purpose is to waste and slay,The Romans cannot fight or flee away.

Their wives and children are your captives now,Or wounded where your swords and arrows plow.

The time has come to set all wrath aside;No holy faith can sanction vengeful pride.

Let all we own be paid as ransom dear,For this long feud wears down our lives with fear.

Be kind; do not burn cities without end;Such days must cease; let mercy now descend.

The Maker will not praise a lord for wrong,Who seeks unjust revenge and keeps it strong.

May God bless Shapur, and may his bright starAdorn the moon with glory from afar.”

The scribe laid down his pen, then folded tightThe royal letter he had come to write.

They pressed upon the letter Caesar’s seal;The envoy left to bear that grave appeal.

He came to Shapur, ruler of the land,And placed the letter in his royal hand.

They read the royal letter, clear and slow,And let its graceful words before him flow.

His eyes filled up with tears; compassion stirred,His warrior’s brows grew knotted at each word.

He wrote at once, recounting good and ill,And shaped his answer with a sovereign will.

He said, “Who sewed his guest in ass’s hide?Who kindled all this ancient feud and pride?

If you are wise, come freely to my side,With sound philosophers to be your guide.

I grant you quarter and forgo the fight;The wise have room beneath the heavens’ light.”

The envoy carried back the Shah’s reply,And spoke each word beneath the Roman sky.

When Baranush received the Shah’s reply,Joy filled his noble heart and raised it high.

He bade a hundred nobles leave their landAnd journey forth from Rum, a chosen band.

Of silver coins, full sixty kharvars stored,With gems and costly robes, made up the hoard.

For largess they amassed bright gold dinars,A hundred thousand, gleaming like the stars.

Before the Shah they came, all humbly dressed,With heads left bare, their lowliness confessed.

They poured dinars before his royal seat,And strewed the gold with gems before his feet.

Shapur received them with a gracious air,And seated each by rank with equal care.

“From Rum too many men have come in shame,Accursed and unjust and crowned with blame.

Where cities once in Iran rose in light,Thorn-brakes now spread, and beasts possess the site.

I seek redress for every ruined place,Where lions, leopards, and beasts leave their trace.”

Then Baranush replied, “Say what you will;Since you gave quarter, let your wrath be still.”

The noble Shah replied, “If you would gainFull pardon, these are terms I now ordain.

Pay Roman gold three times in every year,Two hundred thousand dinars, bright and clear.

And give up Nasibin into my hand,If you would cool my vengeance on your land.”

Then Baranush: “Iran bows down to you;Nasibin and the warriors’ land bow too.

I grant the tribute your decrees demand;Before your wrath and vengeance none can stand.”

Shapur agreed by treaty not to goAgainst Rum’s lands as an invading foe.

Except in friendship, he would send no force,And Rum must suffer nothing by its course.

He sent the Roman lords away content,With gifts and honors fitting their descent.

Once they had left, he led his men away,And thanked the Maker as he took his way.

He turned to Istakhr, joyful in his heart,The pride of Pars, renowned in every part.

When news of this reached Nasibin’s domain,The people armed in anger and disdain.

They cried, “Shapur shall never seize our hold,Nor raise above Nasibin banners bold.

He is no Christian; fire is his law;He keeps the Zand-Avesta with due awe.

If he comes in, our cause he will not hear;We will not take his ancient faith through fear.”

The people’s will prevailed; the townsmen rose,And mounted up for war against their foes.

Then word reached Shah Shapur that, at their call,His entry was denied by one and all.

Against the Christian faith his fury burned;Against the town his countless troops he turned.

He said, “I cannot praise the Gospel’s way,Whose founder died by Jewish hands that day.”

For one whole week they fought; within the townThe crush of battle pressed the warriors down.

Full many chiefs were slain; the rest were bound,With heavy chains upon the living wound.

The citizens then begged the Shah for grace;They wrote to him and pleaded for their place.

He pardoned them and bade the troops return;No longer should his wrath against them burn.

He won renown through every earthly part,And gained the world through valor and great heart.

They hailed him Shah, victorious in the fight;A while he held the crown and throne by right.

The slave who freed him from his captive plightHad brought him back to fortune’s royal height.

He named her Dilafruz Farrukhpish; aboveThe other beauties, she possessed his love.

He gave the gardener wealth and honored state,And sent him richly laden from the gate.

But Caesar stayed in prison, bound and low,Confined in misery and bitter woe.

The treasure he had stored in Rum with pain,And toiled to gather in from every plain,

He gave to Shapur; in his prison cellHe lived awhile, with sighs his grief to tell.

There Caesar died and left the crown of might,For other hands to hold beneath the light.

Then Shah Shapur dispatched the corpse to Rum,Coffined, with musk for crown, to find its tomb.

He said, “This is our end, yet who can knowWhere we shall find our rest when we must go?

One man is ruled by folly and by greed;Another, wise, has farr in thought and deed.

The days of both pass by beyond recall;Why should a wise man grieve at this at all?”

Victorious Shapur fulfilled his quest;He had avenged Iran’s wronged and oppressed.

He mounted then upon the royal seat,And ruled the world awhile, his sway complete.

To Khuzian he sent, by royal will,A multitude, to fare for good or ill.

He built a town for captives, fair and wide,And kept the world beyond its bounds outside.

Khorram Abad he named that pleasant land;Who held its comforts by the Shah’s command?

Those men whose hands he once had cut awayReceived that land, a place where they could stay.

The town and all its lands were theirs by right;Each New Year brought a robe of honor bright.

In Sham he raised a city by his power,And named it Pirooz Shapur from that hour.

In Ahvaz rose a third town from his hands,With halls and hospitals upon its lands.

They named it Kinam-e-Asiran, whereThe captives slept and found relief from care.

Now fifty years of rule had passed him here;The age had none his equal or his peer.

From Chin there came a man of fluent speech,Whose painted art no earthborn hand could reach.

Through that rare skill he gained his chosen aim,A forceful man, and Mani was his name.

He said, “My painting proves my mission true;No prophet ranks above me, old or new.”

From Chin he came to Shapur’s royal hall,And asked his aid to spread his creed to all.

So smooth his pleading that the Shah grew stirred,And doubt awoke with wonder at each word.

He called the Mobadan to hear his claim,And spoke at length of Mani and his aim.

“This fluent man from Chin has made me weighHis faith with doubt in all I hear him say.

Converse with him; perhaps his words are right,And you may turn toward his faith and light.”

They said, “This man, to painted forms inclined,Cannot outmatch our high Mobad in mind.

Hear Mani speak; then call the Mobad here;How will he speak when that sage should appear?”

The Shah then summoned him; the sage drew near;He spoke at length, his argument made clear.

The high Mobad spoke of the ancient lore;And Mani faltered, checked, and said no more.

“You worshipper of pictures, why raise highYour rash hand against God who made the sky?

He made the lofty heavens in their prime,And set within them all of space and time.

Within those heavens light and darkness meet;Above them all His essence stands complete.

Those nights and days that heaven’s wheel suppliesBring safety, loss, and grief before our eyes.

Why take a painted image as your guide,And cast the counsel of the Faith aside?

The Faithful say: serve God, the only One;No other path is right beneath the sun.

If you can make your painted figures move,Then show what those same moving forms can prove.

Your proof is nothing; none will call it sound,Nor hold your painted argument profound.

If Ahriman could equal God in might,Then darkest night would be like day in light.

Through all the year their equal lengths would reign,And neither wax nor wane through loss or gain.

No place contains the Maker, nor can time;Above them both He stands, alone, sublime.

Your words are madness; none will take your side,Or stand with you in what you have replied.”

The Mobad spoke much more, with wisdom clear,And courage in the words he uttered here.

And Mani found no answer to devise.His flourishing success fell in their eyes.

Then Shah Shapur grew angry at his claim;The turning world closed round him in his shame.

Shapur commanded men to seize him fast,And drag him from the court, disgraced, aghast.

The Shah said, “He who worships painted guiseHas no fit place beneath the living skies.

Since all the world’s unrest springs from his sin,From head to foot strip off his body’s skin.

Then stuff his skin with straw, that none may dareTo claim the rank this man presumed to bear.

Then hang that skin upon the city gate,Or at the hospital display his fate.”

They did as Shah Shapur had told them to,And hung him at that place for all to view.

The people blessed the Shah, and all aroundCast dust upon the slain man on the ground.

Through Shapur’s rule such happy days they knew,Among the garden’s roses no thorn grew.

Through justice, judgment, learning, faith, and might,Through bounty and his prowess in the fight,

No enemy remained in his domain;No home for evil could on earth remain.

When hope from heaven no longer lit his sight,Past seventy, his years drew on toward night.

He summoned forth the Mobad and the scribe,And Ardeshir, the noblest of his tribe.

Ardeshir still was young, with justice crowned,And wisdom’s counsel in his spirit found.

The Shah had but one son, Shapur by name,An infant not yet ripened into fame.

Before the scribes and nobles there arrayed,The king made known the purpose he had weighed:

“If you will pledge your faith to me today,And bind your word to all that I shall say,

Then when my son shall reach a man’s estate,And greatness claims him through his royal fate,

Resign the crown and army to his hand,And serve as minister at his command.

Then I commit the crown of kings to you,With troops and treasure held for him as due.”

Ardeshir pledged before the great and wise,The scribe a witness to his firm replies:

“When Shapur’s son has reached a man’s full height,And merits crown and throne and royal right,

I shall restore his kingship, as agreed,And wish him well in every word and deed.”

Before the lords, Shapur made clear his will,Gave crown and signet, and spoke further still:

“Take seriously the world and all its cares;Let no neglect intrude on its affairs.

I yield the royal diadem to you;Let justice guide the rule that you pursue.

The unjust king neglects the state he leads;He has no thought for what his kingdom needs.

He takes delight in hoarding wealth alone,And greedier than all the great is shown.

The just king’s subjects love what he bestows;Blessed the king who walks the path God shows.

By equity and bounty he grows great;He guides all hearts in Faith throughout his state.

He guards his kingdom safely from the foe,And lifts his head and crown where high clouds flow.

By justice and by peace he gathers gold;By gifts he frees the heart from troubles old.

He pardons wrongs that other men may do,Yet keeps his human kindness firm and true.

Whoever seeks these virtues needs to findSound judgment, vigilance, a prudent mind.

Kings must be wise, and all their people teach,And keep God’s path within their subjects’ reach.

The subjects sin, except the pure of heart,Who worship God and keep from sin apart.

The heart and brain are rulers of the frame;The other limbs are troops that serve their aim.

When heart and brain are darkened and defiled,Despair drives counsel out, and thought runs wild.

The life within that frame becomes distressed;No troop without command can ever rest.

Without the light, the troops disperse and fly;The lifeless body in the dust must lie.

So with an unjust king: his violent crownTurns all the world beneath him upside down.

When he is dead, his curse will not depart;Men call him impious in their speech and heart.

Keep sight and wrath within the Faith’s own law,For both belong to Him; hold them in awe.

From any king who from this path would stray,Let hope of goodness wholly fall away.

His subjects scatter from his ruined state;His loyal servants leave his royal gate.

Do you not hear the counsel of the wise,Which cleans your heart of crookedness and lies?

The king whose conduct earns the praise of menWill see his fortunes grow and grow again.

The tyrant earns reproach; do not remainAbout the gates of men consumed by gain.

Know this, my brother: sages say a kingNeeds four great virtues under fortune’s wing.

First, he must conquer, never turn awayFrom foes who meet him on the battle day.

Second, he must treat soldiers justly too,And give the high-born men their proper due.

One fit for kingship never casts the greatAmong the common ranks in low estate.

Third, he must stand upright and guard the right,And never cast a rightful claim from sight.

And fourth, to subjects and old servants near,His treasury must open without fear.

From fruitful branches let his riches fall,And let his generous bounty nourish all.

A king’s gate must not stand without his men;His treasure feeds the guards who serve him then.

Through justice let your treasure-house be stored;Rejoice in it, by all your troops adored.

Regard your arms as fitting to your might;They may yet serve you well some darkened night.

Trust not your guards too far; attend your ownAffairs, if you would stand secure alone.

Whether obscure or lustrous in your age,Death will at last erase the royal page.”

His brother wept; the counsel written clear,Shapur lived on for one remaining year.

He passed, but left his words for all to heed;Sow not within this world the seed of greed.

Your days will pass; your foes will reap the field,And take the fruit your lifelong labors yield.

When Ormozd’s laws and Bahman’s rule endure,This palace stands a happy home secure.

Bring ruby wine to me, O Hashimi,From jars that know no ebb or scarcity.

At sixty-three, though deaf, why should I prizeThe world’s regard, which fades before my eyes?

Now I will sing; attend the words I bring:The tale of Ardeshir, the noble king.

When Ardeshir sat on the throne of old,He graced the seat that Shapur used to hold.

He bound his belt and called Iran’s chiefs near,Beneath the golden throne to sit and hear.

He said, “I wish that heaven’s turning mightBring harm to none beneath its circling height.

The world shall rest beneath my peaceful will,If it obeys and keeps allegiance still.

But if this giddy world should turn aside,We shall find means to meet its changing tide.

My brother left the realm within my hand,His son too young to rule or to command.

May blessings on my brother’s spirit rest;He cleansed the earth of those by spite possessed.

When Shapur, son of Shapur, fully grown,Shall learn to prize the royal crown and throne,

I shall give crown and treasure, all his men;As pledged to Shah Shapur, I yield them then.

I am his deputy in royal state;His father’s legacy for him must wait.

Let all of you remember what is right;Uphold just law and custom with your might.

What we enjoyed has passed beyond our care;At death, our labor turns to empty air.”

For ten full years he ruled with generous hand,Enjoyed his wealth, and gave at his command.

He asked no tribute, toll, or tax to holdHis throne, nor charged the people, young or old.

They called him Beneficent for his reign,For all beneath his rule were free from strain.

When young Shapur was fit to claim his right,He gave him that blessed crown, the royal light.

He kept his covenant and held his course,With honor and a valiant spirit’s force.

When Shapur took the crown his uncle wore,In Iran, many cheered; some hearts were sore.

He spoke before the men of noble lore,And seasoned Mobadan with counsel’s store:

“Know this: from now, we shall not favor lies;Nor shall a liar win before our eyes.

False speech is no sound counsel for the great;Sound judgment will sustain their high estate.

Do not befriend the worthless or the base;Let no thorn in your garden find a place.

The man of wisdom mocks no living soul;Let no such taunt escape his mind’s control.

Keep watch upon your tongue in all you say;Do not let poison eat your soul away.

Who speaks too much within the council hallWill see his name and reputation fall.

But when a sage speaks, listen to his word;No learning ages that is truly heard.

The greedy carry aching hearts within;Keep clear of greed, and do not dwell with sin.

Make neither liars nor the base your friends,Nor those whose counsel serves dishonorable ends.

Four qualities compose a noble man;Let every man acquire them as he can.

First, skill and modesty with justice stand;Then, let a single, honest heart command.

Third, be moderate, and content with fate,And welcome fortune, whether small or great.

Fourth, speak no empty words to win acclaim;Nor boast in ignorance to gain a name.

The noble heart gains both worlds as its part;No joy abides within the churlish heart.

Here, evil fame shall follow where they tread;No Paradise awaits them with the dead.

The boastful man’s brief course ends in disgrace;He scatters all his wealth at reckless pace.

But he is praised who chooses measured ways,And crowns his life with blessings all his days.

May your Creator bless you day by day;May fortune’s favor prosper all your way.

May He aid us and keep our kingship strong;The throne of greatness rests with none for long.”

The nobles rose to praise Shapur, and prayedThat God would bless his rule and lend him aid.

When five years and four months had passed away,The Shah went hunting; fate was on its way.

The plain was filled with cheetahs, hawks, and hounds,Some wheeled above, while others coursed the grounds.

A tent was pitched to serve as resting-place;The Shah ate there, then rested from the chase.

He drank three goblets full of royal wine,Then sank in thought and let his limbs recline.

His comrades left him sleeping where he lay,And scattered through the plain upon their way.

Then from the plain a mighty tempest came,So fierce no living man recalled the same.

The gale tore loose the tent’s supporting frame,And struck the monarch’s head with deadly aim.

The valiant Shapur died upon the plain,And left the crown for other hands to gain.

Work, feast, and play; do not consume your heart;Why seek revenge or hoard what must depart?

Within this gloomy sphere accept your share;Seek virtue; leave the riddle, and forbear.

To solve it only wrings the soul with pain;So do not pry; let mystery remain.

Shapur had left a son, still young in age,Yet rich in knowledge, worthy of a sage.

Wise, worthy Shah Bahram was bowed with grief,And mourned his father, finding no relief.

When he was seated on the throne of power,He spoke before the court in that high hour:

“The treasure kings through justice make their ownWill not be scattered from the royal throne.

May holy God be pleased with us, and shroudThe heart of every foe in sorrow’s cloud.

All knowledge is His own; His servants weIncrease and dwindle under His decree.

He rules in truth and justice without cease;His kingdom knows no loss and no increase.

Whoever gives with open, lavish handIs wise, alert, and quick to understand.

He must not lock his treasure out of sight,And least of all the king who guards the right.

If you possess a wealth of words to spend,Give freely; knowledge never finds an end.

Incline to God through days of good and ill,If you would keep your virtue steadfast still.

Know good and ill alike from God are sent;Your wage is heaven’s joy, and never spent.

But if you chase this world’s vain pleasures’ call,Your soul remains a captive in will’s thrall.

I trust in holy God that when my headIs laid within the dark and earthen bed,

He may account me as a king of might,Victorious, who filled the world with light.

Is justice not more worthy of acclaimThan riches seized by force in deeds of shame?

Our labors here remain when we are clay;Our treasure falls to enemies as prey.

We leave remembrance, whether foul or fair;Do not sow seeds of evil anywhere.”

When fourteen years of royal rule had sped,The garden’s graceful cypress bowed its head.

The Shah lay sick; his anxious people wept,And through his long affliction vigil kept.

He had a daughter, but he had no son;He had a younger brother, only one.

They called him Yazdegard, a royal name;An honored youth, intent on winning fame.

He bade young Yazdegard come to his side,And all the men assemble far and wide.

He gave him troops and treasure, crown and throne,The royal signet; all to be his own.

When fourteen years of rule had passed away,The youthful Shah then left the light of day.

Old man, now sixty-three, why make a songOf wine, and let its praises run so long?

Your day may pass before you know its end;Choose wisdom; let repentance be your friend.

May God approve His servant’s words and deeds;Let wisdom fund the gains my verse now breeds.

I split fine hairs in speech; the threads I twineAre woven in the dark to make each line.

If I complete in age what I began,Why should it seem a marvel in a man?

Through that sword-bearing king, whose head stands tallAbove the gathered nobles, one and all.

May his throne be the crown the moon shall gain;And may the age submit to his domain.

From him comes joy; with him abides the name,And may the crown rejoice to bear his fame.

In knowledge and in majesty may heWalk on from every foeman’s clutches free.