When tidings reached the king of that famed hero,
Áyín Gashasp, he shut the gate of audience
For grief; none saw him too with wine in hand;
He could not rest or eat or sleep; his eyes
Were full of tears. At court the talk ran much
Upon the Sháh and his secluded state.
One said: “Bahrám Chúbína seeketh fight,
Desirous of the throne of majesty.”
Another said: “Aggrieved against the Sháh
Khusrau Parwíz is marching on Írán.”
Confounded at the case the warriors
Each held a different view, and as the bruit
Arose from Taisafún the monarchy
Lost credit while its servants' heads were full
Of grief and wrath, preferring curse to blessing.
Few troops remained about the gate; the world
Grew strait to the Sháh's heart.

Then tidings reached

Bandwí and Gustaham: “The Grace of kingship
Is darkened.”

All the captives loosed their bonds,

And sent forth one to ascertain and learn
What warriors' kept the portal of the Sháh,

And having learned rebelled, threw off restraint,
And broke from ward; shouts rose that shook the plain;
The garrison were left remediless.
Appeared Bandwí and Gustaham in mail
With troops in arms. The cavaliers forthwith,
All unabashed, rode hot-foot to the court,
* And gallant Gustaham harangued the troops:—
“This is no trivial case, for if ye join
With us ye must ban reverence for the Sháh.
If ye will all gird up your loins in vengeance
For those Íránian chiefs, because Hurmuzd
Hath turned upon the innocent, henceforth
Hail him not, Sháh; we will requite his deed,
And turn for him the waters of Írán
To colocynth. We will direct your course,
And set a new Sháh on his throne. If ye
Show weakness we will leave Írán to you:
A corner of the world will do for us,
And thither with our comrades will we go.”
The whole throng at the words of Gustaham
Began to curse the Sháh's peace and exclaimed:—
“Down with a king that sheddeth his son's blood!”
The troops thus heartened fired the palace-gate,
Made entry of the imperial hall, and reached
The presence of the Sháh, that man of Grace.
When they had ta'en his crown and flung him head­long
Down from his throne they set upon his eyes
The searing irons, and the radiant Lamps
Were darkened. Then they suffered him to live,
And gave his treasure shamefully to spoil.
Such are the doings of the exalted sky!
Affect not thou this Wayside Hostelry,
Wherefrom we have our whiles of wealth and woe,
And in the end must quit them both and go.
The hundredth and the hundred thousandth year
As soon as they are numbered disappear.
The man by whom good fortune would be won
Must speak no evil and must list to none.*