Šāh-nāmah - The Šahnama of Firdausi, Volume 9

When Farrukhzád had gone back to the Sháh,
All over dust and in his fighting-gear,
He lighted from his charger, did obeisance,
Blood in his eyes and anguish in his heart,
And said to Yazdagird: “Why weep so much?
Is it to wash the throne of kings with tears?

The king of kings gave ear.

New thoughts occurred. Upon the morrow's morn
He sat upon his throne, assumed the crown,
Held an assembly with his men of lore,
The magnates and shrewd-hearted archimages,
And said: “What seemeth good to you herein?
What precedents recall ye from the past?
Saith Farrukhzád to me: ‘Depart and take
Thy followers to the forest of Nárwan:
The people of Ámul, are servitors,
The people of Sarí all slaves, to thee,
And, when thy troops are many, come again
With puissance to battle with the Brave.’
Do ye approve?”

They all of them exclaimed:—

“That is the course.”

The king of kings rejoined:—

“It is not well. I purpose otherwise.
Shall I desert the chieftains of Írán,
And this great host, our country, throne, and crown
To save myself? That were not majesty,
Or manliness or policy. To fight
The foe is better for me than disgrace.
The leopard spake a saw in this regard:—
‘Whene'er the time of stress shall come on thee
Turn not in folly from thine enemy.’
For just as subjects should obey their king
In good and ill so he must not desert them
In their distress and go off to his treasures.”
The great men blessed him, saying: “Crown
and signet
Exist for ends like these. Think what thy will
And wishes are, and what assurances
Thou wouldst of us.”

The Sháh thus answered them:—

“Anxiety is ruin to the heart.
Our best course is to go to Khurásán
Where we shall feel secure from strife with foes,
For there we are possessed of many troops,
And valiant paladins. The Turkish chiefs
And Khán of Chín will come and do us homage
While I will make the union stronger still
By marriage with the daughter of Faghfúr.
A great host will arrive to succour us,
The magnates of Túrán and mighty men.
There is the warden of the marches too,
Máhwí, with horsemen, elephants, and wealth

But Farrukhzád

Smote his two hands together and exclaimed:—
“O Sháh who fearest God! put little trust
In those of evil bent. In this regard
There is a modern saw which runneth thus:—
‘Howe'er on birth thou practise witchery,
And strivest such an one from rust to free,
Since the All-giver framed him thus to be
To loose God's bonds thou wilt not find a key.’”
“O mighty, raging Lion!” said the Sháh,
“To make this trial will work me no hurt.”
He stayed that night and, when the morning broke,
Those noble men set forth and left Baghdád
For Khurásán, and took their travail lightly.
The chieftains of Írán all sorrowful
Accompanied their Sháh, that noble man,
And called down blessings on him, saying: “May
time,
And earth, ne'er lack thee.”

From the host rose wails

For grief and at the going of the king,
And all the Íránian thanes—the warriors' stay—
Drew near to him with outcries and in tears,
And said to him: “O Sháh! we are thy slaves
With souls and bodies filled with love for thee.
We all will go with thee to learn how fortune
Will sport with our king's life, for if we lose
Our Sháh how can our hearts find joy in home,
And country? We will quit our settlements,
Our children, and our wealth to share thy toils.
We care not for our lives without thy throne:
May fortune ne'er abandon thee.”⁸⁸

All tears the king of kings said to those nobles:—
“Be ever more intent in praising God.
It may be I shall look on you again,
And that our sorrows and distress will cease.
Ye all are my true helpers and the heirlooms
Left by my sires. I would not have you harmed:
Share not mine ills then. We will mark the intent
Of circling heaven, its progress, and to whom
It showeth love. Resign yourself thereto:
None can evade its secret purposes.”
Then said he to the merchantmen of Chín:—
“Make no long tarrying here, else will the Arabs
Convert your quest of gain to loss.”

They parted

With pain and trouble, sorrow, care, and wailing.
So Farrukhzád, son of Hurmuzd, led forth
The troops and called the veterans of Írán,
And then the Sháh set out with wail and woe.
The leader led the van. Stage after stage
He marched to Rai and tarried there for wine,
And minstrelsy, thence went he to Gurgán,
Like wind, and stayed one se'nnight sad or glad.
Departing thence toward Bust he set his face
With wrinkled cheeks and body in ill case.

The world-lord, resolute to go to Marv,
Wrote to Máhwí of Súr, the governor,
In rage and pain, in tears and hope deferred,
And calling an experienced scribe poured forth
His heart, and it was full. He first praised God,
The all-wise Lord, the Fosterer, the Master
Of circling Mars and Sol, of elephant
And ant, at will creating out of naught,
And needing no instructor, then proceeded:—
“What hath befallen us! And gone are all
This kingship's hue and perfume. Rustam's death
Upon the battlefield and by the hand
Of one whose name is Sa'ad, son of Wakkás,
A landless, low-born, witless, aimless man,
Hath straitened all the world to us through sorrow.
Now that Sa'ad's army is at Taisafún,
With woods and foot-hills fronting them, array

Lo! I will follow
Behind my letter swiftly as the wind,
And give thee what I purpose in my mind.”^90a

He wrote moreover to the folk of Tús,
With full heart and with face like sandarac,
First offering his praises to the Judge
“From whom are fortune, strength, and excellence,
Grace, triumph, throne, and diadem of kingship.
From foot of ant to soaring eagle's plume,
From elephant on land to crocodile
In water, all are faithful, do His will,
And draw no breath unless by His command.
This from the world's Sháh, mighty Yazdagird,
Son^90b

of a famous king and valorous,
Victorious leader of the Íránian host,
Who guardeth his domain, desireth more,
And cometh of a great, God-fearing race
That thank their stars that they possess the crown,
Have peopled earth and made crown, throne, and
signet
Resplendent, to his marchlords with their thrones
And treasures, Grace, high-bearing, crowns and host
At Shamírán, Rúína,⁹¹

and Mount Ráda,
Kalát and elsewhere. May the Fosterer
Watch over us and keep you from the scath
Of evil hap. In sooth the chiefs have heard,
For it hath been an ensign in the world,
That in regard to warfare, valour, birth,
Our hearts are full of kindness, love, and justice.
High birth especially constraineth us—
The Sháhs—to let our toils exceed our treasures
On your behalf. What time Bahrám Chúbína,
That malcontent, grew noted and rejected
Our rule and diadem ye all abandoned
Your marches, spacious cities, pleasances,
Your parks and palaces, and in that case,
In terror of disaster, made your homes

Devoid of sense and knowledge, fame and shame.
These greedy men, who covet diadems,
Have fixed their eyes upon this royal state,
And Núshírwán once dreamed that this our throne
Would lose its brilliant lustre. He beheld
A hundred thousand Arabs—raging camels
With bits⁹²

snapped—seeking how to cross the Arwand,
And bring destruction on our fields and fells,
Saw that both Fire and Fane of Fire would perish,
The light of New Year end and Sada feast,
That in Írán and Babylon dark smoke
Would rise from tilth and crop to Saturn's sphere,
While on the world-king's hall the battlements
Would tumble to the ground.^92a

The dream is now
Fulfilled and heaven's favour fain to quit us.
Those that we value most will be misprized,
The base will be set up on high by fortune,
Ill scattered through the world, mishap apert
And good concealed. In all the provinces
Some tyrant, some obscene calamity,
And signs of dark night's coming will appear,
Our glorious fortune be cut off from us.
Now as our counsellors and paladins—
Men of pure rede—advise we purpose going
To Khurásán and to its warlike marchlords.
Because now of the governor of Tús
Have I led here the elephants and drums,
And we shall see how fortune will make bonds
Of our frail knots. I am girt up for battle
That I may meet the Arabs face to face,
While Farrukhzád—my very veins and skin,
And my firm friend—is now at Altúníya,
Intent on fight, and host confronteth host,
While Kashmigán, that warrior's son, hath reached
Our court and spoken well and loyally.

Shamírán,
And from Mount Ráda while, in sight of all
The elders and the wise, the mountain-chiefs,
Sent by the marchlords, will convey whate'er
Is needed to the gates and give the list
To our own treasurer, and if the Great
Among the folk will but restrain themselves
They will in sooth receive no injury
Among the valleys and the lofty hills
From Arab or from Turkman. Help from you
In these our strenuous times will aid us much.
Our minister, that wise and holy man,
Will now give orders to our treasurer
To send five robes of Persian make to all

and he will read
This legend: ‘In the name of holy God,
The Object of our reverence, hopes, and fears,’
Upon one side. The other side will bear
Our face and crown, the legend: ‘Through our love
The earth becometh fruitful.’ These have been
Prepared for New Year's Day, the nobles' eyes
Fulfilled with wealth. God's blessing on the man
Whose faults are few and who forgetteth not
Our diadem.”

The Sháh when he had sealed

The letter sent it to the army-chiefs.
With this king's missive in his hand there came
A horseman of high fortune and high aim.

Thence they conveyed the drums and came to Tús
From Nishápúr. Máhwí of Súr had news:—
“The Sháh is on the road to Dahistán,”
And went to meet him with a mighty power,
All spearmen and in coats of mail, and when
The Glory of the royal state appeared,
The flag of majesty and such a host,
Alighted from his steed forthwith and paid
His duty to the king of kings, walked softly
Upon the burning dust and from his eyes
Shed tears of reverence. He kissed the ground,
Prolonging his obeisance. All his troops
Acclaimed the Sháh and touched earth with their
heads,
While Farrukhzád enranked his powers when he
Beheld the visage of Máhwí of Súr
By whom his heart was joyed and whom he coun-selled
At large: “This Sháh of royal race do I
Commit to thee to serve him, suffering not
The blast to blow on him, and none save thee
To earn his thanks. I must depart to Rai,
Uncertain whether I shall see again
The royal crown for 'gainst these Arab spearmen
Full many such as I have died in battle.
There was not one within the world like Rustam,
The horseman, never hath the ear of sage

Was he cut off, so adverse was our day!
God grant to him a place among the Just,
And give the swarthy Ravens to our spears!
Máhwí replied: “O paladin! the Sháh
Is eye and soul to me. I undertake
In thy place to defend thy king, thy Heaven.”
So Farrukhzád, son of Hurmuzd, departed
To Rai as bidden by the Sháh. The sky
Revolved awhile with matters in this stay,
And all love passed from that malignant's brain,
And none dared go to battle with the Arabs
Because the azure sky was helping them;
The visage of the monarch of Írán
Grew wrinkled; the foe's deeds made strait his heart.
Máhwí saw that the Sháh was at a stay,
And driven on by fortune helplessly,
Ambitioned speedily the throne and changed
In policy, in manners, and dispose,
Then for a season he began to affect
Ill health and barely showed the Sháh respect.

There was a paladin, a Turk by race,
A man of influence and named Bízhan;
He dwelt within the coasts of Samarkand
Where he had many kin. Ill-starred Mahwí,
Becoming self-assertive, wrote to him:—
“Thou prosperous sçion of the paladins!
A strife hath risen that will bring thee profit:
The Sháh is of all places here at Marv
And with no troops! His head and crown and state,
Wealth, throne, and host, are thine if thou wilt come.
Recall the vengeance owing to thy sires,
And give this unjust race its just reward.”
Bízhan, considering the letter, saw
That insolent Máhwí would win the world,
Then spake thus to his minister: “Thou chief
Of upright men! what sayest thou to this?
If I lead forth a host to aid Máhwí
'Twill be my ruin here.”⁹⁷

The minister

Replied: “O lion-hearted warrior!

He formed his troops to right and left, and all
Advanced to battle. Spear in hand he held
The centre, and the whole world was bedimmed
With flying dust. He saw how lustily
The Turks engaged, unsheathed his sword, and came,
As 'twere an elephant before his troops.
Earth Nile-wise flowed. Like thundering cloud he
charged,
But not a warrior supported him;
All turned their backs upon that man of name,
And left him mid the horsemen of the foe.
The world's king, when Máhwí withdrew, perceived
The practice hid till then—the intent and plan
To capture him—yet played the man in fight,
Displaying valour, strength, and warriorship,
Slew many at the centre, but at length
Fled in despair, with falchion of Kábul
In hand, pursued by many Turks. He sped
Like lightning mid night's gloom and spied a mill
On the canal of Zark^98a.

Alighting there
The world's king lay in hiding from his foes
Within the mill. The horsemen searched for him;
All Zark was hue and cry. The Sháh abandoned

by heaven was his lot,
And now it was a mill! Excess of sweet
Bred bane for him and, if thou art discreet,
Affect not this world for its end is ill.
Whiles a tame serpent to the touch it still
At whiles will bite, and hot that bite will be.
Why then affect this cozening hostelry
While like a drum the signal to be gone
Thou hearest, bidding: “Bind the baggage on,
And for sole throne the grave's floor look upon?”
With mouth untasting and with tearful eyes
The Sháh abode until the sun arose,
And then the miller oped the mill-house door.
He bore a truss of grass upon his back.
A low-born-man was he, by name Khusrau,
Poor, foolish, unrespected, purposeless.
He lived upon the profits of his mill,
Which gave him full employment. He beheld
A warrior, like a lofty cypress, sitting
In dolour on the ground with kingly crown
Upon his head and with brocade of Rúm
Bright on his breast; his eyes a stag's, his chest
And neck a lion's; of beholding him
The eye ne'er tired. He was unique in form;
Wore golden boots; his sleeves were fringed with
pearls
And gold. Khusrau looked, stood astound, and
called
On God, then said: “O man of sunlike mien!
Say in what sort thou camest to this mill?
Why didst thou take it for thy resting-place
Full as it is of wheat and dust and hay?
Who art thou with such form, such Grace and looks?
Sure, heaven never saw the like of thee!”
The Sháh replied: “I am Íránian-born,
In flight before the army of Túrán.”
The miller said, abashed: “I have no comrade
Save penury, but still, if barley-bread,
With some poor cresses from the river-bank,
Will serve thee I will bring them; naught have I
Besides: a man so straitened well may wail.”
Through stress of fight the Sháh had rested not,
Or eaten, for three days and so replied:—
“Bring what thou hast, that and the sacred twigs
Will serve my turn.”

The poor and lowly miller

Brought him the cresses and the barley-bread,
Made haste to fetch the sacred twigs and, reaching
The toll-house¹⁰⁰

on the way, crossed to the chief
Of Zark to make request for them. Máhwí
Had sent men on all sides to find the Sháh,
And so the chieftain asked the miller: “Friend!
For whom need'st thou the sacred twigs?”

Khusrau

Replied: “There is a warrior at the mill,
And seated on the hay, a cypress slim
In height, a sun in looks, a man of Grace,
With eyebrows arched and melancholy eyes:
His mouth is full of sighs, his soul is sad.
I set stale fare before him—barley-bread,
Such as I eat myself—but he is fain
To take the sacred twigs while muttering grace.^100a

Thou well mayst muse at him.”

The chief rejoined:—

“Go and inform Máhwí of Súr hereof,
For that foul miscreant must not reveal
His proper bent when he shall hear of this.”^100b

Forthwith he charged a trusty man to take
The miller to Máhwí who asked of him,
Then anxious for himself; “For whom didst thou
Require the sacred twigs? Tell me the truth.”
The miller all a-tremble made reply:—
“I had been out to fetch a load and flung
The mill-door open roughly, when know this:
The sun was in mine eyes, but his are like
Those of a startled fawn; his locks are dark
As the third watch of night; his breath suggesteth
Musk, and his face embellisheth his crown.
One that hath never seen the Grace of God
Should take the mill-house key. His diadem
Is full of uncut jewels, and his breast
Bright with brocade of Rúm. The mill hath grown
As 'twere a sun through him, and yet his food
Is barley-bread, his seat upon the hay!
‘Spring,’ thou wouldst say, ‘in Paradise is he:
No thane e'er set so tall a cypress-tree.’”

Now when Máhwí had taken thought he knew:—
“'Tis none but Yazdagird!” and bade the miller:—
“Haste and cut off his head forthwith or I

The chiefs, the nobles,

And mighty men heard this and all the assembly
Were filled with wrath at him; their tongues were
charged
With words, their eyes with tears. An archimage,
By name Rádwí, whose mind wore wisdom's bridle,
Said to Máhwí: “O thou malignant one!
Why hath the Dív confused thine eyes? This know:
The royal and prophetic offices
Are two gems set within one finger-ring.
To break one is to trample life and wisdom
Beneath thy feet. Reflect upon thy words,
And then forbear. Be not the Maker's foe.
First will disaster come on thee herefrom,
Then thou wilt leave a seed-plot for thy child,
With fruit of colocynth and leafage blood.
Ere long thou wilt behold thy head abased;
Thy villainy will be exposed; thy sons
Will reap what thou hast sown. This deed of thine
Will wreck the Faith of God, and crown and throne
Will curse thee.”

Then a devotee devout,

Who never put his hand forth to injustice,
By name Hurmuzd, son of Kharrád, a man
Who rested in the Faith, said to Máhwí:—
“O thou oppressor! quit not thus the way
Of holy God. I see thy heart and sense
Bedimmed. We see thy breast a tomb. Though
strong
Thou hast no brain; thy mind is weak; thou seekest
The smoke and not the fire. I see that thou
Wouldst have the malediction of the world,
And, when thou quit'st it, travail, smart, and anguish.
Now will thy lifetime prove a wretched one,
And fire thy dwelling-place when thou departest.”
He sat. Shahrán rose and addressed Máhwí:—
“Why this audacity? Thou hast opposed
The king of kings and cottoned with the Khán
And the Faghfúr. Full many of this race
Have proved of no account yet men ne'er hasted
To slay them. Shed not, as thou art a slave,
The blood of Sháhs because thou wilt be cursed
Till Doomsday.”

This he said, and sat down weeping

In anguish with heart full and eyes all gall.
Then Mihr-i-Núsh stood forth in deep distress,
With lamentation, and addressed Máhwí:—
“O evil man of evil race, who art
Not well advised or just! a crocodile
Respecteth royal blood, a leopard finding
A slain king doth not rend him. O thou worse
In love and instinct than the beasts of prey!
Thou covetest the Sháh's crown! When Jamshíd

to the hero Farídún,
And gave the world to sorrow, Minúchihr,
One of the race, appeared and undid all
Those bonds. When, thirdly, princely Siyáwush
Went forth to war, albeit reluctantly,
Afrásiyáb, inspired by Garsíwaz,
Washed shame and honour from his mind and wits,
And slew the youthful and right royal prince,
So that the world became his enemy.
Sprung from that prince the world-lord Kai Khusrau
Came and filled all the world with hubbub, clave
Asunder with his scimitar his grandsire,¹⁰⁴

And frayed all those that else had sought revenge.
The fourth count is the feud against Arjásp,
The slayer of Lúhrásp. Asfandiyár
Went forth to fight with him and took swift wreak.
Fifth, is the vengeance ta'en for Sháh Hurmuzd.
Khusrau Parwíz, whenas he felt confirmed
In heart and power, dealt in the way we know
Both with Bandwí and Gustaham. The sky,
Which then revolved, revolveth still.^104a

Forgetting
What they had done for him, when his sire's blood
And love and family appealed to him,
He in his day of strength abated theirs.^104b

One may not scorn the occasion of revenge,
For such a time will quickly come to thee,
And thou wilt suffer for thine evil thoughts,
Thy son will reap what thou hast sown, and fate
Will not rest long from vengeance; so refrain
From all this treasure-hoard, this heritage
Of crown and precious things. Thou art revolting
Because the Dív enjoineth, and abjuring
The way of God. The Dív, as thou wilt learn,
Is tempting thee with things not for thine honour.
Burn not thy soul and body in Hell-fire;
Dim not this world-illuming crown but gather
Thy scattered troops; recant what thou hast said;
Go ask the Sháh to pardon thee and when
Thou seest him renew thy fealty.

for God entrusted
To him the Kaian crown, and all the kings
Were of that glorious race. Now many a man
Hath been thy better, but they ne'er conceived
Designs like these. As for Bahrám Chúbína,
Three hundred thousand skilful cavaliers
On barded steeds fled at one shaft of his,^105a

And left the field of fight to him; but when
His heart grew weary of the race of Sháhs
The head of his resplendent fortune fell.
So Faráyín, who sought the throne of kings
Unworthily and bathed his hands in blood,
Was in like manner miserably slain:
This age endureth not such mockeries.
Fear Him, the Lord, the Maker of the world,
For He created throne and crown and signet.
Defame not thine own person wantonly
Because ere long such things will rise against thee.
Know that whoever speaketh not the truth
To thee is thy soul's foe. Now thou art sick
While I am as the leech, a leech that waileth,
And sheddeth drops of blood. Thou art thyself
Less than the slave of slaves. Be not ambitious
In thy heart's thoughts. Leave strife to holy God,
And seek in honour's way the throne of greatness.”
The shepherd-born¹⁰⁶

had set his heart upon
The throne: the archimages' rede was hard.
So hath it ever been; 'tis no new thing:
The flouts of fortune are past reckoning,
Exalting to the sky above this one,
And making that vile, wretched, and undone,
Not leagued with that, on war with this not bent,
But void of wit, shame, Faith, and precedent.
The archmages all, till the world gloomed and moon
Succeeded sun, warned that vindictive man,
Who was not one hair better for their talk,
And said when night came: “Ye must leave me now

and said: “What think ye
Herein? If Yazdagird remain alive
Troops will collect to him from every side;
My secret purposes have been exposed,
And all, both great and small, have heard thereof!
My life will end through his hostility,
And neither folk nor field and fell be left.”
A wise man said: “Thou shouldest not have acted
At first so. If the monarch of Írán
Be ill-disposed toward thee then past doubt
Ill will befall thee from him, yet 'tis ill
To shed his blood for then God will avenge him.
To left and right are cares and pains of all kinds:
Consider how thou need'st must act herein.”
Máhwí's son said to him: “Well counselled sire!
Since thou hast made the Sháh thine enemy
Be rid of him; troops from Máchin and Chín
Will come to him and earth grow strait for us.
Hold this no trifle. Since thou hast prevailed
Tempt not the maws of lions. Thou and all
Thy host will be uprooted from the world
If standard-wise the Sháh's skirt be unfurl'd.”

Thereat the shameless, infamous Máhwí
Turned fiercely to the miller, saying: “Up!
Take cavaliers and shed my foeman's blood.”
The miller, hearing, knew not what to do,
But when at night the moon assumed her throne
Departed mill-ward to the Sháh and when
He left the court-gate of Máhwí his eyes
Were charged with tear-drops and his heart was full.
Forthwith Máhwí dispatched some cavaliers
To follow swift as smoke, instructing them:—
“See that ye sully not the crown and earrings,
The signet and the royal robes with blood,
And strip the Sháh when lifeless.”

With his eyes

All tearful and cheeks yellow as the sun
The miller went, exclaiming: “Judge almighty,
Who art above the processes of time!

With heart all shame and qualm,

With wetted cheeks and tongue all charged with dust,
He reached the Sháh and drawing nigh with caution,
As one would speak a secret in the ear,
Stabbed with a dirk his middle. At the blow
The Sháh cried: “Ah!” Then tumbled head and
crown,
And barley-bread before him, to the dust!
He that abideth when he might depart
From this world hath no wisdom in his heart,
And wisdom is not in the turning sky,
Whose love is as its stress and enmity.
'Tis well to look not on the world and so
From these its doings love and wrath not know.
The planets weary of their fosterlings,
And guiltless folk like Yazdagird are slain;
None else hath perished thus of all the kings,
Nor of his host a plier of the rein.
The horsemen of accursed Máhwí, on seeing
That royal Tree thus laid to rest afar
From palace and his scenes of ease, drew near,
Gazed, one and all, upon his face, removed
His cincture, violet robe, and coronet,
His torque and golden boots, and left him there
In miserable case upon the ground—
The monarch of Írán flung on the dust,
Blood-boltered, with gashed side!¹⁰⁸

Those emissaries,
When they arose, all framed their tongues to curse:—
“Oh! may Máhwí himself fare, prostrate thus,
All gory on earth's face.”

They told Máhwí:—

“The exalted Sháh hath passed away from throne,
From battle and delights,” and he commanded
To take, when it was night, the monarch's corpse,
And fling it in the stream. The miller took
The body of the Sháh forth from the mill,
And flung it (mark the horror!) in the water,¹⁰⁹

And there it floated with a bobbing head!^109a

When it was day and people went abroad
Two men of worship visited the spot.
One of these men austere and sober reached
The river-bank and, when he saw the corpse
All naked in the water, hurried back
In consternation to the monastery,
And told the other monks what he had seen:—
“The Sháh, the master of the world, is drowned,
And naked in the water-way of Zark!”
Then many of those holy men—the chief
And others of all ranks—set forth. A cry

Four of the monks went stripped into the water,
Seized the bare body of the youthful king,
That grandson of the world-lord Núshírwán,
And drew it to the bank while young and old
Lamented greatly. They prepared for him
Within the garth a charnel-house and raised
Its summit to the clouds. They sealed his wound
With gum, with pitch, with camphor, and with musk,
And then arrayed him in brocade of gold,
With fine Egyptian linen underneath,
And dark-blue Russian cloth o'er all. They decked
His place of rest with wine and gum and camphor,
With musk and with rose-water.

When the form

Was hidden of that noble Cypress-tree
What said that honoured thane of Marv? “In secret
A guerdon waiteth him that after travail
Departeth with good conscience from the world.”
Another said: “Though man may laugh, yet know
That he is of the sufferers, for he
Will find the falseness of the turning sky,
Which will reveal to him both rise and fall.”
Another said: “Call not him one of wit
That serveth his own form with princes' blood,
And seeketh wealth, despite of infamy,
With soul unfearful of an evil end.”
Another said: “Since the Sháh's lips are closed
I see not crown or royal seat or signet,
Or courtiers or a realm or diadem,
Or throne or helmet, and if these possess
No moment in themselves why this expense
Of toil and time?”

Another said, “will win thee worthy praise.
Thou in the garth of Paradise didst set
A cypress: now thy soul beholdeth it.”
Another said: “God took thy soul and gave
Thy body to the care of the devout.
Hereby thy soul is profited, hereby
Will harm betide the foe. The Sháh hath now
His work in Paradise; his foeman's soul
Is on the road to Hell.”

Another said:—

“Wise, knowledge-loving Sháh sprung from Ardshír!
Thou reapest now the crop that thou didst sow:
The lamp of sovereignty is still alight.”
Another said: “Though thou'rt asleep, young king!
Thy spirit is awake. Thy lips are mute,
And with full many a groan thy spirit passed
And left thy body free. Thy work is done:
Thy soul is busy now. Thy foeman's head
Is on the stake. Although thy tongue is tied
Thy spirit speaketh, and thy soul is purged
Although thy form is pierced, while if thy hand
Have dropped the reins thy spirit still will wield
The spear in battle.”

Said another one:—

“O famous warrior! thou hast departed
With thine own works as guide. Thy royal seat
Is now in Paradise; this earth of bale
Is now another's share.”

“The man that slew

One such as thee,” another said, “will look
Upon harsh days anon.”

The prelate said:—

“Thy slaves are we and laud thy holy soul.
Be this, thy charnel, as a garth all tulips,
This bier thine upland and thy plain of joy.”
They spake, took up the bier and carried it
From waste to mausoleum. Thither came
The hapless Sháh, crown, throne, and casque at end.
O man of many years, whose words still run!
Turn from the path of greed, break off thy strain.
What shall we say hereof? Was justice done,
Or vengeance by the seven planets ta'en,
On Yazdagird? The sage, if unresolved
Upon the point, could make me no reply,
Or if he spake 'twould be in words involved
That keep the answer still a mystery.
If thou hast means, good man! indulge thy heart;
Trust not to what the morrow promiseth,
Because the world and thou perforce must part,
And time accounteth for thine every breath;
Thou shouldest sow not any save good seed
In what remaineth of thy mortal strife;
Control the door of appetite and greed;
He that provided will provide through life,
And life itself will but produce for thee
Fair fame and happiness, good friend! Then still

One came and told Máhwí of Súr: “The world-lord
Is hidden in the dust. The prelates, priests,
And monks of Rúm—all those of life austere,
Both young and old, throughout that march and
land—
Went wailing, took his body from the stream,
And made for him within the garth a charnel—
A great one, higher than the mountain-slopes.”¹¹³

Máhwí, that luckless wretch, exclaimed: “Írán
Had ne'er before affinity with Rúm.”
He sent and slew the builders of that charnel,
With those that mourned, and gave that march to
spoil,
Such was his will and worth! Thereafter he
Made search throughout the world and found not one
Of that great stock. He had a crown and signet,
The Sháh's erewhile, and to that shepherd-born
The throne appealed. He called his intimates,
Announced the purpose that he had at heart,
And told his minister: “Experienced man!
The day of strife and battle is upon us.
I have no treasure, fame or lineage,
And may but give my head up to the winds.
The name that is upon my signet-ring
Is Yazdagird: my scimitar hath failed
To make men yield to me. Throughout Írán
Men are his slaves although his kin is scattered.
The sages do not hail me as the Sháh,
The soldiers do not recognise my seal.
My machinations tended otherwise.
Oh! wherefore did I shed the world-king's blood?
All night am I sore-troubled in my thoughts:
The World-lord knoweth how it is with me.”
The counsellor replied: “The thing is done,
And common talk. Act for thine own behoof,

“Good!” exclaimed Máhwí,

“Thou art a minister—a peerless one!”
He summoned all the captains of the host,
And spake at large to them to that effect.
They knew: “It is not true, and well it were
To cut his head off for his shamelessness.”
A paladin observed: “'Tis thy concern
If what thou sayest be the truth or not.”
He heard and sat him down upon the throne,
By his deceit gat hold of Khurásán,
Distributed the earth among his chiefs,
And said: “I am the world's king with the signet.’
He called his kin and said the same at large;
He took the whole earth as it were a gift;
The stars were in amaze at him. He chose
The vicious as accorded to his nature,
Debased the sages and made everywhere
Chiefs of the bad. The head of right was humbled,
And knavery on all sides manifest.
He gave his elder son Balkh and Harát,
And sent troops to each quarter. As his host
And treasures grew the heart of that ingrate
Was gratified. He gave his troops rewards
And put them in good case; he filled the heads
Of his own kith and kin with vapourings.
Then with his troops and valiant warriors,
Preceded by the scouts and Garsiyún—
A veteran chief—they marched upon Bukhárá,
Intent on war, for “Chách and Samarkand
Are ours,” Máhwí said, “and they must be made
The captives of this crown and seal, for so

In time news reached Bízhan: “Máhwí hath seized
The throne of might and everywhere imposeth
His seal and signet; earth accepteth him,
And now with warlike troops his face is turned
Toward the Jíhún for battle.”

“Who bestowed

The signet on him?” asked Bízhan, and one
Acquainted him with all: “When thou didst reach
The desert of Farab, and fortune's lips
Were closed to good and ill, there parted hence
To him a force of haughty cavaliers
In quest of fame, for he had said: ‘If thou
Wilt send me troops I will dispatch to thee
By privy pact the crown of king of kings
With golden throne and signet. In the world
The sovereignty is fitly thine.’ Thy troops
Went hence in haste and found the Sháh at Marv.
They compassed him about. The Íránians fled.
When that wise king was left alone he feared
That ill might come upon him from the host.
There was a certain mill upon the ford,
And thither went the Sháh, a sun in Grace.
Máhwí of Súr heard of him, sent and slew him,
And through the royal signet gained the world
When he had slain his master. Now the more part
Of praise and blame in this affair is thine,
Thine were the valiant horsemen and the strife.”
Barsám said thus: “O king! what time¹¹⁶

I took
A mounted force from Chách^116a

Máhwí had said
To thee: ‘The golden throne of Yazdagird,
His armlets set with gems, his crown withal
And treasure, will I send to Balkh. The throne
And crown within the world must needs be thine.’
I fought three days at Marv. When on the fourth
The world's light shone I battled furiously,
For I was pressed. Tyrannical Máhwí
Displayed his back. The Íránian king of kings,
Abandoned, like a furious lion charged

Hearing this,

Bízhan raged much at having helped to dim
The fortune of the Sháh, then bade assemble
His host of Turks, his horsemen of the day
Of battle, sped forth from Káchár Báshí,
And lost no time upon the road. Whenas
He drew anear Bukhárá all the waste
Was covered with his troops to whom he said:—
“Haste not and let Máhwí be first to lead
His host across the water¹¹⁷

to contend
With me. Perchance on him I may avenge
The Sháh.”

He asked thereafter: “Did the king

Leave no availful child? Had he no brother?
In the default of sons had he no daughter,
Whom we might carry with us and assist,
And take full satisfaction of Máhwí?”
Barsám replied: “My lord! this race's day
Is passed; the Arabs hold those provinces;
No Sháh is left or worshipper of Fire.”
Bízhan, on hearing this, resumed his march,
Astound at this world's doings. Scouts announced:—
“A host hath come and campeth at Baigand.
They crossed in boats, their dust obscured the sun.”
Bízhan, the chief, led on his troops to war,
And when Máhwí of Súr beheld them thou

Bízhan, when he had drawn up his array,
Prepared an ambush for the Íránians;
Máhwí knew of it and with loud exclaims
Departed from among his troops. Bízhan
Looked forth, beheld the flag, and knew: “Máhwí
Is minded to take flight,” and bade Barsám:—
“Lead from the central host what troops thou hast,
And draw toward one side; we must not let
Máhwí decline the battle and haste thus
Jíhún-wards. Speed and keep him well in sight,
For we must deal with him in other wise.”
Barsám of Chín observed the flag and drew
His troops apart until with frowning face,
And malisons upon his lips, he reached
The desert of Farab, there found Máhwí,
And, with his weight upon the stirrups, charged;
Then, closing face to face, he plied his sword,
Displaying valour, seized his foeman's belt,
Unseated him and dashed him to the ground,
Alighted, bound his hands, and then remounting
Drove him along in front. With that came up
Barsám's own comrades, and the bruit of him
Filled all the plain. They said: “O chief! Máhwí
Should be beheaded on the way.”

He answered:—

“Not so; Bízhan as yet is not informed
About the capture.”

Presently Bízhan

Gat news: “That ill-conditioned slave is taken,”
Heard and grew glad of heart. He hugged himself,
And thus released from care roared lion-like.
Then many valiant Turks came and discussed
The fashion of the slaying of Máhwí.
All that they recognised as of his court
They put to death—a countless multitude.
They looted all the baggage and dragged off
Máhwí stripped bare of all. The guilty wretch
Lost all his wits when he beheld Bízhan,

They bound him

From head to foot with cords, the clarions sounded,
A herald went the circuit of the host,
And, as he passed the entry of the tents,
Made proclamation: “Slaves that slay your masters!
Indulge no foolish thoughts, and may all those
Without compunction for a monarch's life
Be as Máhwí and never see the throne.”
There was a prince, by name Guráz, at once
The glory and the pleasure of Máhwí.
He was the governor of Marv what time
Máhwí died wretchedly. As eldest son
He was his father's lustre, who had made
A crown of gold for him. When fortune loured
Upon Máhwí the horsemen rode to Marv
From all sides. Tumult spread. The war-cry rose,
And strife and turmoil filled the land. Guráz
Was slain mid those dark doings, and the day
Of all his race was done. He had three sons
Among his troops, three favourite sons possessed
Of crown and throne. A lofty pyre was kindled,
And he and his three sons were burned thereon.
None of the seed remained or if some did
Men harried them. The chieftains cursed that race,
All vengeful for the slaughter of the Sháh:—
“May it be cursed and may there never fail
A man to curse it as it hath deserved.”
Bízhan, the Turk, too was an evil-doer.
His own time came, his wisdom was estranged,
And I have heard that he grew mad at last,

When five and sixty years had passed me by
I viewed my task with more anxiety,
And as my yearning to achieve it grew
My fortune's star receded from my view.
Persians well read and men of high degree
Wrote all my work out and would take no fee.
I over-looked from far, and thou hadst said
That they had rather handselled me instead!
Naught but their praises had I for my part,
And while they praised I had a broken heart.
The mouths of their old money-bags were tied,
Whereat mine ardent heart was mortified.
Of famous nobles of this town 'Alí,
The Dílamite,¹²¹

most shared the work with me,
For he, a man of ardent temper made,
Through kindliness of soul forwent no aid.
Husain, son of Kutíb, a Persian lord,
Asked me for naught without its due reward,
But furnished gold and silver, clothes and meat,
And found me ways and means, and wings and feet.
As for taxation, naught thereof know I;
All at mine ease in mine own quilt I lie.
What time my years attained to ten times seven
And one my poetry surmounted heaven.
For five and thirty years I bore much pain
Here in this Wayside Inn in quest of gain,
But all the five and thirty years thus past
Naught helped; they gave my travail to the blast,
And my hopes too have gone for evermore
Now that mine age all but hath reached fourscore.
I end the story of Sháh Yazdagird,
And in Sapandármad, the day of Ard,
And year four hundred of Muhammad's Flight,
The last words of this royal book I write.
For ever flourishing be Sháh Mahmúd,
His head still green, his heart with joy imbued.
I have so lauded him that publicly
And privily my words will never die.
Of praises from the Great I had much store;
The praises that I give to him are more.
May he, the man of wisdom, live for aye,
His doings turn to his content alway.
This tale of sixty thousand couplets I
Have left to him by way of memory.

The Sháhnáma of Firdausí is ended.