That done, he gave to Rám Barzín the letter
With its behests for dealing with Núshzád,
To levy troops, make war, and banish ruth.
When the old man had read it, and had heard
The messenger at large, the din of tymbals
Arose at cock-crow at the palace-portal,
A mighty host marched forth from Madá'in,
And Rám Barzín went swiftly to the war.
News reached Núshzád who called and paid his host,
While all the Christians and grandees of Rúm
That dwelt along the march of that fair land
Assembled with Shammás as general:
Those warriors' hands all had been bathed in blood.
A shout rose from the portal of Núshzád,
And then the army, like a wind-tossed sea,
Moved from the city out upon the plain,
Their heads all war, their hearts revenge and venom.
When Rám Barzín beheld that army's dust
He blew the trumpets and arrayed the host.
The dust of cavaliers, the charge of chieftains,
The brandishing of mighty maces, rent
The hearts of flints; none saw the bright sun's face.

Then in the centre of the host Núshzád
Set on his head a Rúman helm. His host
Was full of Christian clericals from Rúm;
The soil was hidden by their horses' hoofs.
Thou wouldst have said: “Earth seetheth, and the air
Is shrieking over it.”

A warrior,

Beclad in mail and hight Pírúz the old,
Came boldly forth and cried: “O famed Núshzád!
Who wantonly hath turned thy head from right?
Contend not with the army of the king
Because thou wilt repent thee of this strife.
Thou hast abjured the Faith of Gaiúmart,
The pathway of Húshang and Tahmúras.
The arch-deceiver Christ was put to death
Because he had renounced the Faith of God;
So choose not him, of all that founded Faiths,
Who so mistook the aspect of his work,
For if the Grace of God had shone in him
How could the Jews have gained the upper hand?
Heard hast thou what thy sire, that noble man,
The world-lord, did to Cæsar and to Rúm,
Yet now thou wouldst contend with him and raise
Thy head to heaven! For all thy moon-like mien,
Thy Grace and stature, neck, limbs, hands, and
mace,
I see no wisdom with thee anywhere,
Such recklessness possesseth thy dark soul!
Woe for this head of thine, crown, name, and birth,
Which now thou wouldst abandon to the blast!
For son to seek his living father's throne,
How should this be? 'Tis neither use nor right.
To seek the crown, if he be dead, is well;
To seek to fight him now is criminal.
Save thou be snorting elephant or lion
Thou canst not match Sháh Núshírwán, and though
I have not seen, O prince! a bridle-hand
Like thine limned in the palace of the Sháhs,
Such foot and stirrups, such a breast and neck,
Such ardour in the fight and such a mace,
Though painter never looked on such a picture,
Or any age on such a prince, yet burn not
The soul of Núshírwán by childishness,
Or stultify the world-illuming crown,
For hostile howsoe'er a son may be
His father will lament when he is slain.
Dismount, ask quarter of the Sháh, and fling
This mace and Rúman helmet to the ground;
Then if far hence some chilling blast should make
The dark dust settle on thy countenance,
The Sháh's heart would consume for thee, the sun
Weep o'er thy face. Sow not throughout the world
The seed of enmity, for hastiness
Becometh not a prince. If thou dost swerve
From mine advice and trust to violence,
And to thy might, the counsel of Pírúz

Oft will recur to thee, and then the words
Of thine ill counsellors will seem but wind.”
Núshzád made answer: “O wind-pated dotard!
Ask not my troops—exalted warriors—
Or me—the Sháh's son—to cry out for quarter.
The Faith of Núshírwán is naught to me;
My heart inclineth to my mother—her
Whose constant practice is the Faith of Christ.
I will not quit her Grace and Faith. Although
Its Founder—Christ—was slain, the World-lord's
Grace
Hath not forsaken Him. That Holy One
Hath passed from this earth back to holy God,
Such was His aspiration when on earth.
I may be slain but shall not fear to die,
For to that bane there is no antidote.”
He answered thus the old Pírúz and veiled
Air's face with shafts. The warriors of the host
Advanced, the battle-cry and clarion's blare
Went up, Núshzád, the chief, spurred on like fire,
Came as it were Ázargashasp, and brake
The left wing of the army of the Sháh,
Where none remained to fight with him. He slew
Full many a Lion of the host, whereat,
Grown wrathful, Rám Barzín bade shower arrows,
And fill the air as 'twere with hail in spring.
The din of battle went up on both sides
From all the valiant soldiers there engaged.
Núshzád was wounded in the mellay. Oft
He called to mind the counsel of Pírúz,
And reached in pain the centre of the host,
Pierced by a shaft and pale with agony.
Thus said he to the warriors of Rúm:—
“To fight one's sire is wretched, vile, accursed!”
Bewailing and lamenting thus he summoned
A bishop and confessed his heart's desires.
He said: “The evil fortune caused by me
Hath fallen rigorously upon myself.
Now, since my head will pass beneath the dust,
Dispatch a horseman to my mother. Say
To her: ‘Núshzád hath left this world. For him
The days of right and wrong are at an end.
I prithee be not grieved at heart for me;
Such is the fashion of this Wayside Inn!
Since I have been allotted this dark day
How could my heart be glad and brighten earth?
All living creatures are but born to die;
Grieve not for me, for thou art mortal too.
'Tis not my slaying that confoundeth me,
But worse—my sire's displeasure. Let me have
No mausoleum, throne, or stately rites,
But bury me with Christian burial.
I need no camphor, musk, or spicery,
For arrow-stricken I depart the world.’”
He spake and shut his lips. Thus passed Núshzád,
That noble Lion-heart. Now when his troops
Heard of his death they fled the battlefield.
The Íránian leader, hearing that the prince
Was slain, went weeping to his couch in haste
The troops ceased slaying on the field of fight,
And neither joyed nor spoiled. They saw the prince
Slain and o'erthrown with ignominy, his head
Upon a Rúman bishop's breast: the field
Was filled with wailing for him. Rám Barzín
Was troubled to the heart and asked the prelate:—
“What know'st thou of the prince's dying wishes?”
“Except his mother,” thus the bishop answered,
“None must behold his head exposed. He, seeing
That he was wounded by a shaft, forbade
All obsequies and musk and spicery,
Or coronet, brocade of Rúm, and throne,
Perceiving his to be the slave's dark lot.
His mother now will shroud him and provide
A tomb and winding-sheet with Christian rites,
While his condition now is that of Christ's,
Although he did not die upon the Cross.”
Of all the Christians that were in the land
There was not one but had his visage torn.
A cry rose from the country. Men and women
Assembled. From the plain they raised the corpse
Of that young, gallant prince—the Heart and Eyes
Of Núshírwán, the Sháh—upon a bier,
Transporting it three leagues by hand, then set it
Upon two mules which bare it to his mother.
Now when she was aware of what had chanced
Her head and crown descended to the dust.
She came forth to the street unveiled. A crowd
Assembled round her in the market-place.
They set a camp-enclosure round about,
And all the folk cast dust upon their heads.
They laid him in the earth. He passed. He came
From wind and suddenly to wind returned.
Gund-i-Shápúr*

was all in tears, consumed
With sorrow for the anguish of the Sháh.
Why writhe so madly in the bonds of greed?
Thou know'st that here thou canst not long remain.
Seek to escape, give not the world such heed,
Smell not its rose so fondly, 'tis but bane.
From Faith and righteousness turn not thy head,
Or else the wrath of God will chasten thee;
“A father's wrath,” a pious Arab said,
“Will bring upon thy life calamity.”
When sire shall be displeased with son in aught
Know that in seed and fruit that son is bad.
Oh! never make thy father's soul distraught
Whatever trouble thou from him hast had.

When thou'rt secure refrain thy heart from woe,
Nor on thy heart the fire of trouble fling,
Let not thy passions master wisdom so,
But act with seemliness in everything.*

Now be the world's king happy all his days,
And may he bear these words of mine in mind.
Mahmúd, the world-lord, who ensueth praise,
A niche therefor in every heart will find.
Love ever shineth from his Grace divine,
His crown's top is the pillar of the sky.
Now ask, if cup thou hast, for amber wine,
And hold not quaffing acting sinfully.
Seek joy and mirth but never be bemused,
Nor think that talk—wise talk—should be abused.