It is recorded in the ancient book
From the recital of a truthful sage
That when news came from Rúm to this fair land
For Núshírwán, the world-lord: “Mayst thou live,
For Cæsar is no more and to another
Hath yielded time and earth,” death filled his soul
With care; his ruddy countenance became
Like yellow leaves. He chose out of Írán
An envoy of experience and high birth,
And then dispatched him unto Cæsar's son,
Dispatched him to that fresh and fruitful Bough,
First charging him with many kindly words,
And saying: “'Tis an evil none can 'scape.”
He wrote a letter in distress and grief,
With eyes all tearful and cheeks sallow, thus:—
“God grant thee life and loving-kindliness
Now that thy sire is dead. No living thing
Is born unless to die. A Wayside Inn
Is this and we pass on. Although we handle
The crown or helm and casque we find no quittance
From death's clutch. What is Cæsar or the Khán
When his time cometh and all suddenly
Shall lay his head in dust? Mayst thou receive
No lack of joyful tidings of thy sire;
May Christ befriend his soul. Now I have heard
That thou art seated on his famous throne,
And hast adorned the fortune that was his.
Require of us such strength as thou dost need
Of steeds, of arms, of treasure, and of troops.”
The ambassador went forth from Núshírwán;
He made the journey in all haste to Cæsar,
And, when he reached the court, they gave him
entry;
The envoy of the Sháh approached the state.
When Cæsar saw the title on the scroll
His heart swelled at the pride of Núshírwán.
He was a hasty youth, new to the throne,
Showed himself overbearing to the envoy,
Saluted him in an unseemly fashion,
With lax observance and discourtesy,
The priest replied:—
“Thy liege am I and will obey the world-lord.”
So all the bishops, priests, and counsellors
Assembled by themselves apart and then
Wrote with all speed a letter in response,
As Cæsar bade, and first they praised the Maker,
And based their praise on wisdom, then they said:—
“Was such a letter worthy of the Sháh,
A letter graceless and malevolent?
Thou dost amiss for Cæsar is but young,
But lately crowned, our king in right of birth.
Forbear to press the youth for this one year
With haughty superscriptions, tax and toll.
The youth hath written in befitting terms
To all the lieges and the potentates,
As the illustrious emperor of Rúm,
To whom the mountain-tops are so much wax.
The envoy of the Sháh hath come to us,
And he will tell the Sháh what he hath seen
With us—our words of grief and joy alike:
Our weal and woe shall not remain concealed.
One Cæsar hath departed but another
Succeeded who exalteth o'er all chiefs
His head without regard to any king
Among the underlords and overlords.”
When they were ready with that Rúman letter
They summoned the ambassador to court.
That sage, on hearing that they were advised,
Came to the court and asked for the response.
They made him ready an unworthy robe
Of honour and put strangers from the hall.
Then Cæsar said to him: “No slave am I,
The inferior of the Haitálians and Chín.
One should not lightly treat a potentate
Although thy Sháh be Great King in the world.
He that hath many enemies is great,
And I have foes and friends upon my skirts.
Why dost thou scant me of my majesty,
And cloud my sun? Thou, when such need is mine,
Shalt be my king, my father's memory.
Make fair report of thine experience here,
And seek no foul intent in my response.”
They put the robe of honour on the sage,
And called the marchlord's roadster to the door.
He parted hastily and, tarrying not