The envoy with the letter of the king
Came to famed Cæsar, gave it, greeted him,
And told him all the mind of Núshírwán.
When Cæsar heard and had perused the letter
He writhed and was astound. His brow grew wrinkled,
His visage wan at what the exalted Sháh
Had said. He called a scribe, wrote his reply,
And made his meaning clear for good and ill.
The letter first grew musky with the ink
What time he offered praise to God almighty—
“The Artist of the heavens over us,
The Source of warfare, peace, and amity.
He giveth in the world one man a crown
With slaves before him better than himself.
Though turning heaven itself be under thee,
And Jupiter beneath thy scimitar,
Search out thy records, for no son of Rúm
E'er hath paid tribute to thy royal race.
King as thou art I am no less than thou;
I too possess a head, a crown, and realm.
Why must I take so much abuse in fear
Of foot of elephant or din of drum?
I now ask you for tribute and for toll,
And who is there with power to fight with Rúm?
The doings of Sikandar in Írán
Thou knowest, and we claim that noble Sháh.

Sikandar's sword is still in evidence,
Why pickest thou a quarrel with us thus?
The javelin-wielding horsemen of the waste
Have pillaged our possessions in their raids:
No longer will we bear their wrongs but raise
The dust in all their borders. Núshírwán
Was neither Maker of the sun, nor hath
He seized the key of the revolving sky,
That there must be no other king of kings,
And his will only current in the world.”
He gave the envoy no reply in speech,
Not recking of the wrath of Núshírwán,
But, when he set the seal upon the letter,
He spake these words: “Christ and the Cross are
with me.”
The envoy spent no breath on him, perceiving
With grief the answer, and with grief departed;
Swift as a dust-cloud to the Sháh he sped,
And told him all that Cæsar purposéd.