God bless the Sháh, the pride of crown and throne
And signet-ring, bless him whose treasuries groan
With his munificence, what while the fame
Of majesty is heightened by his name.
From sea to sea hosts answer to his call,
The Glory of his crown is over all;
No gold is in the mine, to men unknown,
That fortune hath not reckoned as his own;
And, God assisting him to all his ends,
He spoileth foemen to enrich his friends.
At feasts he scattereth treasure, while in fight
The Elephant and Lion feel his might,
And when he dominateth lands in war
He bringeth Doomsday with his scimitar;
But, whether jewels with his hand he fling,
Or wield a sword, he seeketh one sole thing—
That heaven at feast shall hail him as a Sea,*

In fight as sun-faced Lion. All agree—
Earth, water, and the heavenly Fount of light—
That such another Sháh ne'er was for fight,
For gifts and toil, for glory and renown.
Mixed he not love with war he would bring down,
When wroth, the stars. Strong is he, his array
Such that therein the wind is barred of way.
Seven hundred elephants of mighty size
Bring up his army's rear, and his allies

Are God and Gabriel. From all the great
He claimeth tribute, and from every state;
While, if they pay not, all is lost to them—
Their country, treasure, throne, and diadem.
Who dare break fealty with him or slight
His bidding who at feast is this world's Light,
And Mountain with the breastplate on in fight?
Abú'l Kásim! may that brave king—the cause
That freeth onager from lion's claws,
World-lord Mahmúd, who bringeth to the ground
Chiefs' heads in fight—be Sháh, the moon be crowned
By his high star, world without end, forwhy
He is the Adornment of the radiant sky,
At feasts a Cloud bestowing bounteously,
And dowered with wisdom, justice, and renown.
May this world never lack his head and crown.
He hath host, courage, minister, and treasure,
And one to him are fight and scenes of pleasure.
O'er all the world one carpet hath been placed—
His token nevermore to be effaced—
And on it are a cushion and a seat—
For Fazl, son of Ahmad, a man replete
With justice, prudence, rede, and godly fear;
No Sháh before had such a minister.
In his hands is the peace of all the state,
For he is good and chief of all the great,
Frank-spoken, with clean hands and single heart;
To serve God and his sovereign is his part.
With this wise, upright minister for friend
My far-extending labour reached its end.
I framed this story of the days of yore,
Selected from the book of men of lore,
That it in mine old age might yield me fruit,
Give me a crown, dínárs, and high repute,
But saw no bounteous world-lord; there was none
Who added to the lustre of the throne.
I waited for a patron patiently—
One whose munificence required no key,
A Guardian of the Faith and crown, a Light
To make the crown and ivory throne more bright,
Strong in the battles of the brave, acute
In why and wherefore, one to bring to fruit
The bough of Faith and wisdom, and confute
By mere conjecture other sages' lore,
Should think no ill and rest in God secure.
While three score years and five were passing by,
Like spring-winds o'er the desert, poverty
And toil were mine; next year like one bemused
I leaned upon a staff, my hands refused
The rein, my cheeks grew moon-like pale, my beard
Lost its black hue and camphor-like appeared,
Mine upright stature bent as age came on,
And all the lustre of mine eyes was gone.
When I was fifty-eight, and when in truth
I still felt young though I had lost my youth,
A proclamation reached mine ears at last
Whereat care aged and all my troubles pass'd.
It ran: “Ye men of name who long to find
Some trace of Farídún still left behind!
See bright-souled Farídún alive again
With earth and time for bondslaves. He hath ta'en
The world by justice and by largessings,
And is exalted o'er all other kings.
Bright are the records of his earlier day,
And may he flourish, fruit and root, for aye!”
Now since that proclamation reached mine ear
I wish not any other sound to hear;
In his name have I fashioned this my lay,
And may his end be universal sway,
For he—this lord of sword and crown and throne—
Will be mine aid now that my youth hath gone.
I ask of God almighty and most high
That I so long may 'scape calamity
That in the world-king's name I may tell o'er
These tales, omitting naught of ancient lore;
Then let my worthless corpse be dust, but rise
My quick soul to the mines of Paradise.
The righteous judge and bounteous lord of earth,
In whom it seeth every kind of worth,
The lord of Chín, the lord of Hindústán,
Lord of Írán and country of Túrán,
The lord of splendour and exalted aim,
Beyond the reach of calumny and blame,
At whose voice crocodiles in water crack
Their skins, and leopards on the desert-track,
Mahmúd, the world-lord, like the sun in light,
A Lion with a scimitar in fight,
From every want on earth will set me free,
And rank me high in his nobility.
For ever may his throne endure, and still
May fortune turn according to his will!
At feasts what are dínárs to him but dust?
His bounty causeth not his heart distrust.
Bold is the man that praiseth him, I wis
Such praisers do not know what praising is,
Because the world's king passeth thought. 'Tis his
As Jupiter's own diadem to be.
I have endured, O king! a slavery
That some memorial may be left of me.
The homes that are the dwellings of to-day
Will sink 'neath shower and sunshine to decay,
But storm and rain shall never mar what I
Have built—the palace of my poetry.
As years pass o'er the tale that I have writ
Each man possessed of wisdom reading it
Shall bless the world-lord Sháh and say: “May none
Behold unfilled by him the royal throne!”
His own achievements celebrate his name,
And all the world is witness to his fame.
For me, I cannot offer praises meet,
But I will laud the dust upon his feet.
May this age live for him alone and may
His fortune be illumed by wisdom's ray,
As merry be his heart as jocund spring,
May time no scath upon his person bring
May he be all his people's hearts' delight,
Victorious ever, and a man of might.
So long as round the earth the heaven shall spin,
And Jupiter pursue its course therein,
May he continue in his grace and pride—
No evil eye, no want unsatisfied!
I now resume mine old-world legendry
From true traditions. As time's course I see
I need none other to admonish me.
The combatings of Kai Khusrau arise
Before me: ye must hear my witcheries,
For I shall shower pearls as I descant,
And in among the rocks my tulips plant,
Now have I got a theme long known to me,
Such that the marrow of my speech 'twill be.
O thou who lookest on a bygone age!
Joy sometimes filleth thee and sometimes rage,
And wondrous 'tis how many novel smarts
Yon turning sky reserveth for our hearts!
One's lot throughout his years is grief and fret,
And he must taste of sorrow and regret;
Another's portion is all honey, sweet,
Indulgence, luxury, and lofty seat;
Another hath to walk a treacherous way,
Whiles up, whiles down. Such fosterage we meet
From fortune, but the thorn-prick will out-stay
The blushing of its rose, and at three score
The hand should be withheld from grasping more,
While to survive to three score years and ten
'Neath heaven's vicissitudes is not for men,
Or if, worse hap! one live so many years,
Existence then is but a cause for tears.
If three score years were but a fishing seine*

A wise man would not seek escape in vain,
But through the turning sky or through the net
Spread by the sun and moon I cannot get.

A king may labour and deny himself
The gust of vengeance and delight of pelf,
Yet must he pass hence to the other land,
And leave his toils behind just as they stand.
Think of Sháh Kai Khusrau, for now thou hast
To treat as new the doings of the past.
He, having slain his grandsire, passed away;
The world peruseth not his grants to-day.
This Wayside Inn doth ever treat us so;
Use thine endeavours to escape its woe.