The envoy left the presence of the Sháh,
The night came on, the Sable Banner rose,
The men of lore were weary of discourse,
The valiant monarch sought his ladies' bower.
The circling vault of heaven rested not,
But roused the sleepers from their drowsihead,
The fountain of the sun set up its flag,
The world-Sháh's head woke lightly from repose,
The chamberlain unlocked the audience-door,
The king sat down upon the throne of gold.
He bade a robe of honour be made ready,
The envoy summoned. Indian scimitars
With golden scabbards noble steeds betrapped
With gold, dínárs, gems, musk, and spicery,
Beyond that ancient man's imaginings,
The shrewd Sháh gave the envoy, then was busied
With his own folk's affairs. By his command
The high priest, who was counsellor withal,
Approached him with a noble company,
And he apportioned all the land among
Those warlike paladins, gave drachms and steeds
And signet-rings and casques, and, to the greatest,
Thrones, crowns, and provinces. He filled the world
With right, and small and great rejoiced in him.
He banned the unjust with chilling words, unlargessed,
And, after, thus harangued the archimages:—
“Ye sages worshipful and pure of heart!
The world for us hath many memories
Of doings of the Sháhs unjust and just,
Whose hands oft-times were stretched for ill what while
Their persons lurked mid ease and luxury.*

The world was frighted by these evil men,
The hearts of all the good were rent in twain;
All hands were occupied with evil-doing,
And none was instant in the cause of God;
The Dív's work everywhere prevailed; hearts ceased

To fear the Master of the world. The head
Of virtues and the hand of ill, the door
Of understanding and the quest of wisdom,
Are laid upon the Sháh's neck, and in him
Especially are seen both right and wrong.
My sire, who stretched his hand out to injustice,
Was not a holy man, wise or devout.
Hold not his actions strange, for rust attacked
The bright steel of his heart. Consider too
The experience of Jamshíd and Sháh Káús
For having sought the guidance of the Dív.
My father in like manner followed them,
And washed not his dark soul in wisdom's stream.
His subjects writhed, and many lost their lives
Through his severity. Now he hath gone,
Hath left behind him but an evil name,
And hath no praise from any, yet let us
Give blessings to his soul, for God forbid
That it should writhe through our vindictiveness;
And now that I am seated on his throne
His way will doubtless be to Paradise.
I ask the world's Lord to bestow upon me,
Alike in public and in private, strength
To treat my subjects with humanity,
And make pure musk out of the darksome dust,
That when therewith my body shall conjoin
None wronged by me may pluck me by the skirt.
Put ye too on the robe of uprightness,
With hearts washed clean from wrong, for none is born
Unless to die, be he of Persian, Arab,
Or Rúman race; death's charge is lion-like,
And from its claws none can withdraw the neck;
It maketh quarry of the rending lion,
The dragon's body 'scapeth not its toils.
Where are the heads and crowns of kings of kings?
Where are the mighty and the glorious chiefs?
Where are the cavaliers and haughty ones?
I see no trace of them within the world.
Where are its fair who joyed those chieftains' souls?
Know thou that all whose cheeks are 'neath the shroud
Are wedded to the dust. Let all of us
Have hands both clean and good, and not commit
The world to evil ways. I swear by God,
The Lord of all, who gave to me the Grace,
With crown and throne, high birth and quality,
That if an officer of mine shall wrong
The mean or mighty by a pinch of dust
I will consume his body in the fire,
Or hang him to a gibbet by the neck.
If in the watches of the night a thief
Shall steal a poor man's quilt I will make good
His loss from mine own treasury with brocade,
And wash the hearts of mourners from their woe;
While if a sheep be taken from the flock
In dark night or in snow-storm I will give
Instead thereof a steed of noble race,
And God forbid that I should ask for thanks.
If in a war against mine enemies
A cavalier is wounded in the fight
I will assign him yearly maintenance,
I will not leave his children in distress.
Praise ye the Judge that knoweth what is good
Throughout eternity. Let none lay hand
On water or on fire except the priests
That are fire-worshippers. Slay not draught-oxen,
For they are of avail in husbandry,
Unless past work and worthless to their owner.
Pack-oxen too must not be slain, the land
Else will grow void of grace. Deliberate
In all things with the men of lore and break not
The hearts of children that are fatherless.
Be alien from the promptings of the Dív,
In fight ensue not feast. If I require
My subjects to pay taxes I abjure
God, throne, and crown. Since Yazdagird, my father,
Did evil, to redress that wrong have I
Disseminated justice. Let your hearts
All joy to do it and in gratitude
Observe the Cult of Fire. God may forgive him,
And guide him out of Hell to Paradise.
Give pleasure to the young, break not the hearts
Of lieges, keep from drunkenness in age,
For 'tis unseemly in the old to tope;
Sin ye not therefor, for in age 'tis well
To make your preparations to depart.
If God, the righteous Judge, approveth us
Let not the future trouble you to-day;
Let there be pleasure in my subjects' hearts,
And let the nobles' heads be free from grief.”
The chiefs, on hearing and considering well
His words, all wept that such an one was theirs,
A Sháh so wise and shrewd, acclaimed his worth,
And hailed him as the great king of the earth.