Wise, prudent Sháh Bahrám mourned for his sire
Some months. When seated on the place of power
He spake thus from the imperial throne: “This know:
The kings that justly gather freely spend.
May holy God be gracious unto us,
And may the foemen's hearts be filled with smoke.
His is all knowledge, and we are His slaves
For weal or woe. He is supremely just;
His kingdom knoweth neither gain nor loss.
One that is rich in generosity,
Discreet, intelligent, and vigilant,
Should lock not fast his treasures, least of all
If he is lord of throne and diadem,
And if a wealth of words be thine to give,
Be lavish, knowledge faileth not. Incline
To God in good and ill as thou wilt have

Thy good endure. If thou acknowledgest
That all thy good and evil are from Him
Thy guerdon will be jocund Paradise;
But if thou choosest this world's vanities
Thou wilt remain unransomed in their clutch.
If God shall cease to keep thee 'neath His hand
Thou wilt abide in endless woe. I trust
To holy God that, when I lay my head
Within this darksome dust, He may account me
A conquering king, a Lustre of the world.
Is it not better then to lavish justice
Than to get wealth unjustly, for our labours
Endure here but our wealth will be past doubt
Our foe's. We leave our memory good or bad;
Forbear thine utmost to sow seed of ill.”
When this Sháh's reign had come to twice seven years
The graceful Cypress of the Orchard slept;
The Sháh was sick awhile, his subjects grieved.
He had a daughter, but no son, and likewise
A younger brother unto whom he gave
Perforce the host and treasure, crown and throne,
And royal signet, then, when he had ruled
For twice seven years, this youthful world-lord died.

Old man, whose years amount to sixty-three!
Shall wine be still the burden of thy lay?
Without a warning life may end with thee;
Think of repentance then, seek wisdom's way.
May God approve this slave. May he attain
In wisdom riches and in singing gain;

For mid his song he plucketh at his hair,
Yea teareth it in his obscure estate.
No wonder, if a work—his manhood's care—
Completed in old age, he dedicate
To him who hath the sword—the king of kings,
A whole head higher than his underlings.

May his throne's seat serve Luna for a crown,
The age be wholly subject to his sway,
For his is might and with him is renown.
Oh! may the crown rejoice in him, and may
He walk in knowledge and in majesty,
From all his foemen's clutches ever free!