When herbage made the plain like painted silk
The warriors of Túrán girt up their loins;
An army marched forth from Túrán and Chín
With mace-men from the Western lands—a host
Without a middle or an end; withal
The fortune of Naudar was young no longer.
As these approached Jíhún he heard the news
And drew forth to the plain toward Dahistán.
Káran, who loved the fray, was general,
Behind him came Naudar, the king of kings,
And all the world was filled with bruit of warfare.
The host approaching Dahistán concealed
The sun in dust. They pitched the camp-enclosure

Of Sháh Naudar before the hold. Brief respite
Was theirs, because Afrásiyáb, who then
Was in Irmán, sent thirty thousand warriors,
With Shamásás and Khazarwán as leaders,
Toward Zábul to take revenge on Zál,
For “Sám,” they heard, “is dead, and Zál is busied
About the obsequies.”

Afrásiyáb

Was pleased, perceived that fortune was awake,
Marched forth to Dahistán, and pitched against it.
Who knoweth how to reckon up his host?
Go count a thousand o'er four hundred times.
Thou wouldst have said: “The sands and uplands seethe,
The wilderness is naught but ants and locusts.”
With Sháh Naudar were seven score thousand men,
And certès they were warlike cavaliers.
Afrásiyáb surveyed them and despatched
By night a cameleer to bear Pashang
A letter: “The expected good hath come,
Naudar's whole host is as a quarry to us,
And Sám is dead. I feared none in Írán
But him. His death alloweth our revenge.
Zál is engaged upon the obsequies
And hath not foot or feather for the fight.
By this time Shamásás is in Nímrúz
Enthroned and crowned. Prompt action well advised
Is best for us; occasions will not wait.”

The camel spread its wings and went apace
Toward Pashang, that king of sunlight grace.