Now when the monarch of the world was buried,
And from Írán the chieftains came in tears—
Archmages, governors, and paladins,
With prudent ministers, men shrewd of heart—
All met in Párs and gathered round his charnel,
As Gustaham, who rode down elephants,
And slaughtered them, Káran the warrior,
Son of Gashasp, Mílád, Árash the marchlord,
Parwíz the horseman of Gurzbán, and others.
Withal too those in hiding in Írán—
The great men and the leaders of the world,
Whom Yazdagird was wonted to abase—
Assembled in the city, and Gashasp,
The scribe—a man of eloquence—thus spake:—
“Ye nobles young and old! since God created
The world none hath beheld a king like this,
Who knew but how to slaughter and contemn,
To cause distress and travail, and withhold
His counsel and his treasure from his subjects,
Respecting none and setting all at odds.
No man hath seen a fouler Sháh or heard
Of one among the paladins of yore.
We want no more of this race on the throne,
And cry against his very dust to God.
Illustrious Bahrám is his own son,
His very kin in purpose, heart, and brain.
His talk is all Munzir. We will not have
A tyrant on the throne.”

Then all that were

Chiefs in Írán swore mighty oaths and said:—
“We will not have another of this race
As king of kings with crown and throne of might.”
That done, they rose and sought another Sháh.
When tidings of the death of Yazdagird
Spread 'mongst the chiefs—the monarch of the Aláns,
The paladin of Párs, Bíward, Shikbán,
The warrior of the world, Bihzád who had
Barzín to sire and was of Rustam's race,
And Sám the hero sprung from Kai Kubád—
All said: “The sovereignty is mine from earth
To Pisces,” and the whole world was fulfilled
With tumult, for the head that wore the crown
Had vanished from the throne. Then in Írán
Chief, paladin, and archmage, all that were
Of ardent soul, met to debate in Párs:—

“Who is there worthy of the throne of kings?
Consider who can enter on the work.
We see not any one, approved by God,
To wear the golden girdle on the throne,
And to allay the troubles of the time:
A kingless world is but a pasturage.”
There was an ancient man, by name Khusrau,
Of generous instincts, masterful, and ardent.
Moreover he was born of noble race,
And one among the wealthy of the land.*

The nobles gave to him the crown and state,
And troops from all sides gathered at his gate.