When he had naught to hope for from high heaven,
For he had passed his three score years and ten,
He called a scribe, the high priest, and Ardshír,
His younger brother, youthful still and crowned
With justice and with wisdom. Now the Sháh
Had but one son—an infant—named Shápúr,
Not yet matured by fortune, so the king,
In presence of the magnates and the scribes,
Said to Ardshír: “If thou wilt make a pact
With me in all good faith, and pledge thyself
To keep it, that what time my son shall come
To man's estate, and when the breath of greatness
Shall breathe on him, thou wilt resign to him
The treasure and the throne and crown, and be
His loyal minister, I will commit
To thee this crown of kingship and transfer
Withal to thee the treasure and the host.”
Ardshír agreed before the great and wise
To give up to the child when grown to manhood,
And fit for diadem and throne of might,
The kingship and intreat him lovingly.
Whereat Shápúr, in presence of the lords,
Gave the world's crown and signet to Ardshír,
Then said: “Take seriously the world's affairs.
Know, O my brother! that an unjust king
Regardeth not the interests of the realm,
But yearneth to fill up his treasuries,
Exceeding all his officers in greed.
Blest is the upright king that serveth God
Because in him his subjects' hearts delight;
He groweth rich by equity and bounty,
He leadeth every one toward the Faith,
He guardeth all his kingdom from the foe,
He lifteth to the clouds his head and crown,
He gathereth wealth by justice and in peace,
Disperseth trouble from the heart by largess,
He passeth o'er the offences of ill-doers,
And ever practiseth humanity.
He that hath sought these virtues will attain
To wisdom and right rede and watchfulness.
Kings must be wise and teach both young and old,
For subjects not instructed in God's way
Will err, and if the king is wroth with such
He violateth justice and the Faith.
Man's heart and brain are joint kings of his body,
The other members are the soldiery.
When, then, the heart and brain have been defiled,
And lost to good advice in their despair,
The life within that body is distraught;
Will troops left chiefless live on happily?
Left in the dark they are dispersed and cast,
A corpse, to dust. So with an unjust king:
The world*

is turned by him all upside down.
He will be held accursed when he is dead,
And men will know him as ‘The impious Sháh.’
Keep both thine eye and body in the Faith,
For eye and body both belong to God.
The king who chooseth any other way
Should wash both heart and hands of this our world.
He scattereth his subjects from his realm,
His lieges from his gate, ignoring all
The sage's words which cleanse thy heart of guile.
The tyrant is accursed: haunt not the portal
Of men intent on greed. Know, O my brother!
That from a king the sage expecteth much—
First, that he be victorious, not turning
From foes in fight; again, that he entreat
His troops with equity and recognise
The greatness of the high-born: whosoever
Is fitted for the kingship will not put
The men of rank into the ranks;*

next, thirdly,
That he be upright and defeat not justice;
And fourthly, that to those who are his subjects,
And to the old retainers of his court,
He keep not tightly barred his treasury's door,
But from his branches drop a shower of fruit.
The king's gate should be not without a host,
And he should keep his treasure for his troops.
Thou wilt rejoice in treasuries increased
By justice, and thy troops will joy in thee.
Look on thy mail as thy true ornament;
Some night it may bestead thee well. Trust not
Thy guards too much; direct thine own concerns
As thou wouldst be secure though, whether thou
Shalt prove obscure or thy own age's lustre,
Death past all doubt will come to thee at last.”
The brother, hearing this, wept sore. Shápúr
Wrote his last wishes out, lived on one year,
Then passed, and left this saying in men's minds:—
“Sow not within the world the seed of greed
Because thy days will pass, and foes enjoy
The product of thy toils. Whene'er the laws
Both of Urmuzd and of Bahman*

are kept
This palace will become a happy home.”

Bring tulip-tinted wine, O Háshimí!*

From jars that never need replenishing.
Why seek I, who am deaf at sixty-three,
The world's grace and observance? Now I sing
(Mark thou) the story of Ardshír, the king.