he folded up the breadth of the open plain to reach you,
counting the worst that death could do no more
than let the palace come into view. (1)

I, my resolve, the darkness, and my saber—
three forces joined, just as the eagle’s parts unite. (2)

I gave my hopes glad tidings of a king who is all mankind,
of a dwelling that is the whole world,
of a day that equals the span of time itself.

He, too, composed poetry; on one occasion he recited blasphemous verses:

“Wine is to be drunk only when it rains,
and songs are to be sung by maidens before dawn.

Those who raise the cup the moment it appears,
those who pour the wine, surpass all humankind.

ʿAḍud al-Dawla, son of the realm’s pillar,
King of kings, subduer of destiny.” (3)

It is reported that when death approached him his tongue uttered nothing but the Almighty’s words: “My wealth has not benefited me in the least; my authority has vanished from me” (Q 69:28-29).

He died of epilepsy. A staunch Shiʿi, he uncovered at Najaf a grave which he claimed was that of Imam ʿAlī, built a shrine over it, publicized the Shiʿite symbols, instituted the Ashūrāʾ lamentations and Muʿtazilite doctrines, and in Baghdad founded the ʿAḍudī Bimaristan, then perfect in every respect though now in ruins.

He held Iraq for five and a half years. No caliph had ever received a realm of such magnitude from a newcomer before him. When he entered Baghdad it was weakened, the villages lay in ruins, and bandits had grown strong. He let his troops fall upon the Shaybān brigands, capturing eight hundred of them; he reinforced the dams, planted the Zāhir garden, and spent one million dirhams merely on leveling its ground.