Pírúz, at ease about Hurmuz and free
From care, came, sat upon the royal throne,
As well became a Sháh that worshipped God,
And at the outset thus harangued the chiefs:—
“Ye worshipful and noble lords! I ask
The Judge that needeth naught to grant to me
Long life, a due regard for great and small
As their conditions are, abundant wisdom,
And happy days. Longsuffering is the crown
Upon humanity; the hasty man
Is ever in abasement. Wisdom's pillars
Are equity and mercy, its adornment
Is bounty's gate, the tongue of eloquence
Its glory, while its plumes are hardihood
And fortitude. How shall mere high estate,
If wisdom fail, enjoy the throne of greatness?
E'en sages are but mortal and possess not
More Grace than had Jamshíd who died, what time
His crown had reached the moon, and gave another
His royal seat. None can abide on earth
For aye. Take refuge then with God from ill,
And all is said.”

Wise and untouched by evil

He ruled one year with justice and good counsel.
Next year the face of heaven was dry, the water
Shrank in the streams till it became like musk.
The third and fourth year it was even so,
And all men were in misery through the drought;
The mouth of heaven became as dry as dust,
And river-water was a precious drug;
There was no room to stand, such multitudes
Of men and beasts lay dead. The king of kings
Beheld that portent, took off tax and toll,
And in each city where he kept his stores
Bestowed them freely on both small and great.
A proclamation issued from the court:—
“Distribute, O ye men of name and might!
Such grain as ye possess and heap instead
Your treasuries with coins struck by Pírúz.
Whoe'er possesseth hoarded stores of grain,
Or sheep or oxen roaming at their will,
Let him dispose thereof at his own price,
For lives are perishing for lack of food.”

He sent another letter in all haste
To every officer and potentate:—
“Ope wide your barns to all folk everywhere
That are in need. Should young or old and feeble
Die lacking bread—a victim to the famine—
I will pour out his blood that hath the barn,
For he hath scorned God's work. His waist will I
Cleave with the trenchant scimitar and wreck
His life.”

He ordered folk to quit their homes,

And coming plainwards lift their hands in plaint.
A cry of bitter weeping and distress,
Of pain and consternation rose to heaven;
On hill and waste, in desert and in cave,
They called on God for mercy. On this wise
For seven years both small and great beheld
No verdure anywhere. With Farwardín,
The eighth year, rose a glorious cloud which rained
Pearls on the parched up soil. The scent of musk
Rose from the gardens while the hail that fell
Lay in the mud like pears within a bowl;
The rainbow was resplendent in the sky,
The age escaped the ill of evil men,
And everywhere the bow was strung again.