Bahrám, on quitting that famed township, came
Upon a bramble-brake. A man, who held
A mattock in his hand, was grubbing there.
The monarch left his retinue, drew near him,
And said: “O enemy of brambles! whom
Know'st thou of most account in yonder town?”
He answered: “Farshídward—a man of greed
That doth not suffer him to sleep or eat.
He hath, may be, a hundred thousand sheep,
More camels, steeds, and asses. Earth is full
Of his amassed dínárs, but would that he
Had neither skin nor marrow to his body!
A famished paunch and nakedness are his;
He hath no child, no kin, no friends, no goods.
A captive in the hands of Greed and Need
His person is all misery and wasted
Through eating not, but if he were to sell
For gold his tilth 'twould purchase gems enough
To fill a house! His shepherds swill down flesh
With milk, but he himself hath millet-bread
Without e'en cheese! He never saw two coats
At once; he is a tyrant to himself.”
The Sháh said to the grubber: “Thou dost know
The number of his sheep, but knowest thou
Where those flocks are and likewise where his steeds
And camels are at large?”
The grubber said:—
“O thou! it is not far from here to where
His camels and his sheep are, but my heart
Is troubled at the ill that he may do me.”
Bahrám Gúr gave the grubber some dínárs,
And said: “This day shall gentle thy condition.”
He bade one of his escort come to him,
A man that knew his way about, by name
Bihrúz, a horseman brave and popular,
And sent with him a hundred cavaliers,
Selected men well suited to the work.
He chose withal a scribe, an honest man
The grubber's name was Diláfrúz,
A man of stately mien and stalwart form.
Bahrám bestowed on him a noble steed,
And said: “Thou must companion with the wind.”
He was the Light of hearts but he became
The Lustre of the world*
and carried out
His task triumphantly. He led the troop
O'er hill and plain past countless flocks of sheep.
Upon the mountains were ten caravans
Of camels, each with its own caravaneer.
The scribe wrote down of draught and of milch cattle
Twelve thousand, and the number of the camels
And steeds as twice ten thousand. All the waste
Was dinted with their hoofs. Beside the stream
There were three hundred thousand camel-loads
Of potted butter and curds fresh and dried.*
Height, waste, and level were one mighty cache,
But none had heard thereof. Bihrúz, the son
Of Húr, reported to the king of kings,
Bahrám Gúr, praising first almighty God,
The All-victorious and All-nourisher,
And next the king of kings who had released
Men's hands from toil, and then proceeded thus:—
“O monarch of the world! thou art the joy
Of all folk great and small because thy justice
Surpasseth bounds. Our treasury hath suffered
Through silence as to this man's wealth. 'Tis well
That all things in the world should have their
bounds,
Well that the Sháh be boundlessly rejoiced.
A wretch there is named Farshídward, unknown
In feast and fight to great and small alike
Throughout the world, not fearing God or Sháh,
And thankless in respect of what he hath.
While thus he streweth o'er the world his wealth
He is a lack-all, wretched, secretive,
Who is as unjust as the Sháh is just.
Blame not my words and counsel. Let this wealth
Inaugurate a treasury; '??will need
Three years to order it. I have invoked
To mine assistance certain other scribes,
And settled them upon this fertile mount,
But, though the writers' backs are bent, not yet
Is manifest the sum of this man's treasure;
Moreover he possesseth, so folk say,
Still greater buried hoards of gold and jewels.
Here in the mountain am I with both eyes
Upon the road to know the Sháh's commands.
He sent a cameleer post haste to bear
The letter to the Sháh. Whenas Bahrám Gúr
Had read it he was troubled in his heart,
Grew downcast, wept, and bent his warrior-brows.
He called for Rúman pens and silk of Chín,
And bade a scribe approach. He first gave thanks
To God almighty, the omniscient Guide,
“The Lord of knowledge and of Grace, the Lord
Of diadem and kingship,” then wrote thus:—
“I should by rights attach this man. He hath not
Amassed these hoards by thievery and bloodshed,
Hath not incited others to do wrong,
But he hath been ungrateful and not had
The fear of God within him, hath kept ward
O'er all this treasure to the detriment,
By such amassing, both of heart and soul.
Wolf is as good as sheep upon yon plain
Since neither yieldeth profit or return.
A buried gem is nothing but a stone,
Affording no one either food or raiment.
We shall not found a treasury on his toils,
Or fix our heart upon this Wayside Inn.
Evanished from the world are Farídún,
Íraj withal, Túr, and, amidst the mighty,
Sám, Sháh Káús, and Kai Kubád, besides
The other potentates whose names we cherish,
And mine own sire who filled my heart with pain
As being neither just nor generous.
None of these great men is in evidence;
Herein there is no striving with the Lord.
Collect this treasure and distribute it,
But touch not thou one hair. To every one
That hideth his necessities and looketh
Long vainly for remission from his ills;
To old men past their work and despicable
In rich men's eyes; to those that have spent all,
And now in trouble breathe forth chilling sighs;
To those that have renown but not dínárs;
To traders reft of friends; to little ones
Whom thou beholdest orphans, their sires dead,
And they themselves in want of gold and silver;
To women that have neither spouse nor raiment,
That know no handicraft and no employment,
Give all these treasures and irradiate
The lives of those poor souls. This done, neglect not
The hidden treasures, but bestow the hoards
Of Farshídward upon the mendicants