Thereat the shameless, infamous Máhwí
Turned fiercely to the miller, saying: “Up!
Take cavaliers and shed my foeman's blood.”
The miller, hearing, knew not what to do,
But when at night the moon assumed her throne
Departed mill-ward to the Sháh and when
He left the court-gate of Máhwí his eyes
Were charged with tear-drops and his heart was full.
Forthwith Máhwí dispatched some cavaliers
To follow swift as smoke, instructing them:—
“See that ye sully not the crown and earrings,
The signet and the royal robes with blood,
And strip the Sháh when lifeless.”
With his eyes
All tearful and cheeks yellow as the sun
The miller went, exclaiming: “Judge almighty,
Who art above the processes of time!
With heart all shame and qualm,
With wetted cheeks and tongue all charged with dust,
He reached the Sháh and drawing nigh with caution,
As one would speak a secret in the ear,
Stabbed with a dirk his middle. At the blow
The Sháh cried: “Ah!” Then tumbled head and
crown,
And barley-bread before him, to the dust!
He that abideth when he might depart
From this world hath no wisdom in his heart,
And wisdom is not in the turning sky,
Whose love is as its stress and enmity.
'Tis well to look not on the world and so
From these its doings love and wrath not know.
The planets weary of their fosterlings,
And guiltless folk like Yazdagird are slain;
None else hath perished thus of all the kings,
Nor of his host a plier of the rein.
The horsemen of accursed Máhwí, on seeing
That royal Tree thus laid to rest afar
From palace and his scenes of ease, drew near,
Gazed, one and all, upon his face, removed
His cincture, violet robe, and coronet,
His torque and golden boots, and left him there
In miserable case upon the ground—
The monarch of Írán flung on the dust,
Blood-boltered, with gashed side!*
Those emissaries,
When they arose, all framed their tongues to curse:—
“Oh! may Máhwí himself fare, prostrate thus,
All gory on earth's face.”
They told Máhwí:—
“The exalted Sháh hath passed away from throne,
From battle and delights,” and he commanded
To take, when it was night, the monarch's corpse,
And fling it in the stream. The miller took
The body of the Sháh forth from the mill,
And flung it (mark the horror!) in the water,*
And there it floated with a bobbing head!*
When it was day and people went abroad
Two men of worship visited the spot.
One of these men austere and sober reached
The river-bank and, when he saw the corpse
All naked in the water, hurried back
In consternation to the monastery,
And told the other monks what he had seen:—
“The Sháh, the master of the world, is drowned,
And naked in the water-way of Zark!”
Then many of those holy men—the chief
And others of all ranks—set forth. A cry
Four of the monks went stripped into the water,
Seized the bare body of the youthful king,
That grandson of the world-lord Núshírwán,
And drew it to the bank while young and old
Lamented greatly. They prepared for him
Within the garth a charnel-house and raised
Its summit to the clouds. They sealed his wound
With gum, with pitch, with camphor, and with musk,
And then arrayed him in brocade of gold,
With fine Egyptian linen underneath,
And dark-blue Russian cloth o'er all. They decked
His place of rest with wine and gum and camphor,
With musk and with rose-water.
When the form
Was hidden of that noble Cypress-tree
What said that honoured thane of Marv? “In secret
A guerdon waiteth him that after travail
Departeth with good conscience from the world.”
Another said: “Though man may laugh, yet know
That he is of the sufferers, for he
Will find the falseness of the turning sky,
Which will reveal to him both rise and fall.”
Another said: “Call not him one of wit
That serveth his own form with princes' blood,
And seeketh wealth, despite of infamy,
With soul unfearful of an evil end.”
Another said: “Since the Sháh's lips are closed
I see not crown or royal seat or signet,
Or courtiers or a realm or diadem,
Or throne or helmet, and if these possess
No moment in themselves why this expense
Of toil and time?”
Another said, “will win thee worthy praise.
Thou in the garth of Paradise didst set
A cypress: now thy soul beholdeth it.”
Another said: “God took thy soul and gave
Thy body to the care of the devout.
Hereby thy soul is profited, hereby
Will harm betide the foe. The Sháh hath now
His work in Paradise; his foeman's soul
Is on the road to Hell.”
Another said:—
“Wise, knowledge-loving Sháh sprung from Ardshír!
Thou reapest now the crop that thou didst sow:
The lamp of sovereignty is still alight.”
Another said: “Though thou'rt asleep, young king!
Thy spirit is awake. Thy lips are mute,
And with full many a groan thy spirit passed
And left thy body free. Thy work is done:
Thy soul is busy now. Thy foeman's head
Is on the stake. Although thy tongue is tied
Thy spirit speaketh, and thy soul is purged
Although thy form is pierced, while if thy hand
Have dropped the reins thy spirit still will wield
The spear in battle.”
Said another one:—
“O famous warrior! thou hast departed
With thine own works as guide. Thy royal seat
Is now in Paradise; this earth of bale
Is now another's share.”
“The man that slew
One such as thee,” another said, “will look
Upon harsh days anon.”
The prelate said:—
“Thy slaves are we and laud thy holy soul.
Be this, thy charnel, as a garth all tulips,
This bier thine upland and thy plain of joy.”
They spake, took up the bier and carried it
From waste to mausoleum. Thither came
The hapless Sháh, crown, throne, and casque at end.
O man of many years, whose words still run!
Turn from the path of greed, break off thy strain.
What shall we say hereof? Was justice done,
Or vengeance by the seven planets ta'en,
On Yazdagird? The sage, if unresolved
Upon the point, could make me no reply,
Or if he spake 'twould be in words involved
That keep the answer still a mystery.
If thou hast means, good man! indulge thy heart;
Trust not to what the morrow promiseth,
Because the world and thou perforce must part,
And time accounteth for thine every breath;
Thou shouldest sow not any save good seed
In what remaineth of thy mortal strife;
Control the door of appetite and greed;
He that provided will provide through life,
And life itself will but produce for thee
Fair fame and happiness, good friend! Then still