Then from Jahram they summoned Farrukhzád,
And seated him upon the throne of kingship.
There with a pious soul he praised the Maker,
And said: “Son of the kings of kings am I,
And would have naught but quiet in the world.
The mischief-maker shall not be exalted
While I am Sháh, but him that from his heart
Ensueth right, and is not mischievous,
Will I hold dear as my pure soul, and seek not
To harm the harmless. Him that beareth toil
On our behalf we will reward with treasure.
We will hold dear all friends and raise the fame
Of chieftains everywhere, but all my subjects,
Both friends and enemies, are safe with me.”
The troops all blessed him: “Ne'er may earth and
time
Lack thee.” Yet when his throne was one month old
The head of all his fortune came to dust.
He had a slave, a cypress-tree in stature,
Fair, lusty, and well-liking. That knave's name
Was Siyah Chashm.*

May heaven ne'er bring his
like!
The Sháh too had a handmaid whom he loved.
She chanced on Siyah Chashm all unawares
One day, who sent to say: “If thou wilt meet me
At such a place thou shalt have endless gifts,
And I will deck thy crown with jewelry.”
The handmaid heard, made no reply, but went
And told the thing to Farrukhzád who raged,
And could not eat or sleep in his concern.
He put the feet of Siyah Chashm in fetters,
And cast him into prison. When the knave
Had been confined awhile the Sháh released him,

Of such a fashion are

Time's revolutions! Let it be thy care
To gather for thyself therefrom thy share.
Eat what thou hast and trust the morrow not,
For it may hold for thee a different lot:
To give to others it may take from thee.
Thou callest this a world and verily
It doth whirl! So enjoy thine own, let go
The surplusage that thou hast toiled for so
To other folk but never to thy foe,
Else whensoe'er thy day is overpast
Thy hoards will be as is the desert-blast,
Thy treasures all become thine enemy's;
So give away to set thy mind at ease.