When Farámarz had made an end of mourning
He led his whole host onward to the plains,
And having opened Rustam's dwelling-place
Provided pay and outfit for the troops.
At dawn the noise of clarions arose,
Of kettledrums withal and Indian bells.
Kábul-ward from Zábul he led a host
That veiled the sun. The ruler of Kábul
Heard of those chieftains of Zábulistán,
And massed his scattered troops. The earth grew iron,
Air azure-dim. He marched 'gainst Farámarz,
And light departed from the sun and moon.
When those two hosts confronted, and the world
Rang with the shouting of the warriors,
Within the woods the lions lost their way
Frayed by the throng of steeds, the dust of troops.
A wind arose, the azure dust-clouds whirled,
And earth seemed one with heaven. Farámarz

Came forth and charged the centre of the foe,
The world was darkened by the horsemen's dust,
The monarch of Kábul was taken captive,
And all his mighty armament dispersed.
The warriors of Zábulistán like wolves
Attacked the enemy on every side,
Pursuing those that fled away, and slaying
So many warriors and haughty chiefs
Of Sind and Hind, that all the field turned mire,
And all the troops of Hind and Sind were scattered
They gave up land and home, abandoning
Both wife and child. The monarch of Kábul,
All bathed in blood, was flung within the tower
Upon an elephant, and Farámarz
Led on his army to the hunting-ground
Whereon the pits were dug. He bare with him
The foe in chains and two score more withal—
Kin to the king and idol-worshippers.
He tore the monarch's back to strips until
The bones showed bare, then hung him, foul with dust,
His mouth all blood, head-downward in a pit,
And burned his forty kin; then sought Shaghád,
There made a conflagration mountain-high,
And burned him with the plane*

and ground beneath.
The troops returning to Zábulistán
Took all the ashes of Kábul to Zál.
When Farámarz had cut the tyrant off
He made a Zábulí king in Kábul,
Where no one of the royal stock remained
That had not read the patent of his sword.
He came back from Kábul all seared and smarting
The brightness of his days was overcast.

Zábulistán and Bust lamented loudly,
And no one wore a robe unrent. The folk
All came to welcome Farámarz again
With bosoms lacerate and full of pain.