Pírán on hearing this cried out in wrath,
Descended to the street and from the stable
Brought forth ten roadsters up to warriors' weight,
And with the brave Rúín and Farshídward
Sent up the dust forthwith.*

He reached the court
In two days and two nights, there found the deathsmen
About the portal, Farangís bereft
Of all her wits dragged roughly by the guard
With sword in hand, and all the court in uproar;
All hearts were full of grief, all eyes of tears,
All tongues of curses on Afrásiyáb.
The populace—men, women, and young children—
Were talking at the palace-gate and saying:—

“It were a cruel, fearful, shocking deed
To cut asunder Farangís! This fury
Will wreck the reign and none will call him king
Henceforward.”

At that moment came Pírán

Like wind, and all the men of wisdom joyed.
When noble Farangís saw him her cheeks
Were hidden by a flood of tears, she said:—
“??Ill hast thou dealt with me! Why hast thou flung me
While living into fire?”

Pírán dropped off

His steed, he rent the raiment that he wore
As paladin, and bade the officers
To hold awhile. He sought Afrásiyáb
In haste, grief-stricken, and with tearful eyes,
To whom he said: “O king! live prosperously,
Be evil's hand afar! What hath occurred,
My gracious king! to turn thy face to ill
To-day? Why hath the foul Dív gained thy heart,
And robbed it of its reverence for God?
Thou hast slain Siyáwush though innocent,
And flung his name and kingship to the dust.
News of this wrong will reach Írán and vex
Our prosperous times, for many a paladin
Will march in anguish and revenge against us.

The world reposed from ill, the way of God
Was clear until the wily Dív from Hell
Smote to the heart the monarch of Túrán;
And rightly be that Áhríman accursed,
Who turned thy counsels to an evil course.
Thou wilt repent of this for many a day,
And surely writhe and burn in agony.
I know not whose ill words have prompted this,
Or what the Maker's purpose is herein!
Now, quit of Siyáwush, thou hast ill-treated
Thine own child, and hast madly left thy throne
To make a day of woe! She wisheth not
For fortune, royal state or throne or crown.
Make not thyself a butt to all the world
By what thou doest to thy pregnant child,
Else while thou livest thou wilt be accursed,
And when thou diest Hell will be thy portion.
If now the king would make my spirits bright,
Let him send Farangís to mine abode.
If there be apprehension through this babe,
In truth the trouble and concern are small.
Have patience only till the child is born;
Then will I bring it thee and—do thy worst.”
He answered: “Do as thou hast said, for thou
Hast made me cease to wish to shed her blood.”
Pírán rejoiced, his heart was eased from fear.
He sought the court-gate, rescued Farangís,
Bestowing many a curse upon the guards,
Then bore her to the country of Khutan,
Unhurt, amid the applause of camp and court.
When he had reached his palace he bespake
Gulshahr: “We needs must harbour this fair dame
Until she hath brought forth her royal babe,
And after that I will devise some scheme.
Meanwhile attend upon her like a slave,
And mark the pranks of fortune.”

Time passed by,

The Moon grew near to her delivery.