Pírúz, son of Khusrau, dispatched a post,
And letter too, in secret to Guráz,
Whose sombre soul, what time the messenger
Arrived, grew like the sun, and from those parts
He led forth such an army that the way
Was barred to fly and emmet. Like the wind
He sped to Taisafún, his soldiers' hands
All had been bathed in blood. When he arrived
The chiefs went out to welcome him, but none

Among the troops dared breathe for they were few.
Guráz, on entering the city, stayed not
For minister and counsellor but chose
A void place, and the magnates privily
Conferred with him. Pírúz, son of Khusrau,
Set loose his tongue and said: “Famed paladin!
Whom hast thou chosen to be king of kings,
And illustrate the crown of majesty?”
The warrior Guráz made answer thus:—
“I have not any secrets from Írán.
To-morrow look ye out for some new Sháh
To sit like some new moon upon the throne.”
Since knowledge is the glory of a man
Walk not, if thou canst help it, foolishly.
He that hath wisdom speaketh goodly words,
And as it groweth he deserteth ill.
It is the best of man's accomplishments,
The world's endeavour and the way of God.
Of things that grace one not there is no need
To speak at large for he will foolishly
Disgrace himself howe'er he may exalt
The case in point. When wisdom hath deserted
The head, and shame the eye, fame and disgrace,
And cold and hot, are one—no terror this
To any coward whether quick or dead.
Make, if thou canst, all good thy business
Because the world abideth not with any.
Let all thy usance be humanity,
Munificence and uprightness thy Faith.
When Faráyín assumed the royal crown
He uttered what was in his mind and said:—
“Let me assume the kingship for a while,
And sit upon the throne of gold in joy.
Far better scatter wealth and be exalted
Than purchase sixty years of servitude.
Thus will I sit a while in sovereignty,
Arrayed in satin*

and in painted silk,
And after me my son shall take my throne,
Assume this royal crown, be king as was
His sire, and be exalted and renowned.
Whoe'er shall minister to our delight
Shall be a happy man among mankind.
In feast-time we will drink with joyful hearts,
In war-time we will hunt our enemies.”
His elder son said privily to him:—
“Who of us, father! ever wore the crown?
Feel not secure, take means to compass wealth;
Thou wast the world's protector; keep to that.
If any member of the royal race
Shalt come thou wilt not long be here; thy heart
Will keep of kingship only grief and pain;
Thou wilt be wretched, destitute, and wan.”

Then said the younger son: “Thou hast become
Crowned in the world and hast both troops and
treasures
Befitting royalty, but treasureless
Wilt have to labour still. What ancestor
Of Farídún, who had Abtín to sire,
E'er wore the crown? Hold fast the world by courage
And treasure. Nobody is born a king.”*

The younger's words pleased Faráyín the best,
Who bade his elder son: “Be not so raw.”
He laid out in the royal offices
The muster-roll and called all troops to court.
He gave drachms night and day and many robes
Of honour ill-deserved. Within two weeks
Of all the treasury of Sháh Ardshír
Remained not what would buy an arrow's plume!
Whene'er Guráz would go forth to the pleasance
The lights were torches made of ambergris,
Four score before and four score after him:
Behind them came his friends and partisans.
Of gold and silver were the goblets all,
The golden gem-encrusted.*

'Twas his use
To feast all night. The nobles' hearts were full
Of vengeance on him. 'Twas his wont to roam
A-nights the gardens and the riding-ground.
Save but to sleep and wake, to eat and plunder,
That slight, weak-witted one knew naught. He went
Drunk ever to repose and with a sash
From Chín about his head. The troops were all
Vexed to the heart at him while all the province
Was full of turmoil and distress. He lost
All trace of generosity and grew
Unjust, unfortunate, and good for naught.
The world was wrecked by his iniquity,
And at his handling people smote their heads.
He shed the blood of innocents until
The troops grew wroth with him. He used to shut
His eyes for gold and would have sold the world
To win dínárs. Folk cursed him. All desired
His death and meeting privily discussed
His deeds. Hurmuzd Shahránguráz, a horseman
Redoubted of the city of Istakhr—
The glory of the chieftains—thus addressed
One night the Íránians secretly: “Ye chiefs!
The time of Faráyín is proving grievous;
He holdeth all the chiefs in light esteem.
Why have your brains and hearts become thus
straitened?
Through him all eyes are tearful, livers charged
With blood. Is no physician to be found?
He is not royal or Sásánian;
Why gird the loins before him? Of a truth

Your hearts have flown out of your breasts or else
Your pluck hath disappeared!”

The folk replied:—

“Since there was no one left fit for the throne
None is inspired by jealousy to take
This base-born's heart away; but we adopt
Thy counsel. Tell us from thy stores of lore
How to release Írán from this insane
And hot-brained Sháh ill both in word and deed.
May he be never blessed!”

Shahránguráz

Replied: “The Íránians have suffered long.
If ye will harm me not but play the Persian
E'en now by holy God's aid will I bring him
Down from his throne to dust.”

He gat this answer:—

“May no harm come to thee! All we the host
To-day are thy supporters and thy stronghold
If ill herefrom befall thee.”

Hearing this

That royal warrior sought how to set
Hands on the worthless Sháh. Now he one day
Took order and departed from the city
To hunt, and of the Íránians a troop
Of lords and lieges fared, escorting him.
He urged his courser on and rode about
As 'twere Ázargashasp, the cavaliers
Encircling him and beating up the game.
Now at what time they turned back city-wards
Shahránguráz looked at the hapless Sháh
With boldness, chose an arrow from his quiver,
One that was straight and had a point of steel,
And urged his black steed while the host looked on.
He stretched the bow and drew it out at whiles
To chest or head, then notched, as if in sport,
An arrow on the string and drew the bow
Till it concealed the point, and loosed his thumb.
Forthwith the shaft struck on the monarch's back,
Who dropped his whip. The arrow was all blood
Up to the feathers and the iron head
Protruded from his navel. All the troops
Unsheathed and all that night while dust-clouds rose
They plied their swords and knew not whom they
fought,
But took and gave back blows and cursed or blessed
That deed. Now when the yellow Veil appeared,
So that the world seemed like a leopard's back,
There was a multitude of slain and maimed,
And cavaliers and leaders were astound.

That great host was dispersed like timid sheep
When they perceive a wolf. Long they remained
Without a king: none cared to claim the crown.
For long they sought and sought in vain to trace
Some royal scion of the noble race.