In truth, he was the radiance of rank high and glory great, A Shah, Iskender-diademed, of Dārā’s armied state; Before the dust beneath his feet the Sphere bent low its head; Earth’s shrine of adoration was his royal pavilion’s gate. The smallest of his gifts the meanest beggar made a prince; Exceeding bounteous, exceeding kind a Potentate! The court of glory of his kingly majesty most high Was aye the centre where would hopes of sage and poet wait. Although he yielded to Eternal Destiny’s command, A King was he in might as Doom and puissant as Fate! Weary and worn by this sad, changeful Sphere, deem not thou him: Near God to be, did he his rank and glory abdicate. What wonder if our eyes no more life and the world behold! His beauty fair, as sun and moon, did earth irradiate! If folk upon the bright sun look, with tears are filled their eyes; For seeing it, doth yon moon-face before their minds arise! Now let the cloud blood drop on drop weep, and its form bend low! And let the Judas-tree anew in blossoms gore-hued blow! With this sad anguish let the stars’ eyes rain down bitter tears! And let the smoke from hearts on fire the heavens all darkened show! Their azure garments let the skies change into deepest black! Let the whole world attire itself in robes of princely woe! In breasts of fairies and of men still let the flame burn on-- Of parting from the blest King Suleymān the fiery glow! His home above the highest heaven’s ramparts he hath made; This world was all unworthy of his majesty, I trow. The bird, his soul, hath, _huma_-like, aloft flown to the skies, And naught remaineth save a few bones on the earth below. The speeding Horseman of the plain of Time and Space was he; Fortune and Fame aye as his friends and bridle guides did go. The wayward courser, cruel Fate, was wild and fierce of pace, And fell to earth the Shade of God the Lord’s benignant Grace.