Now when the sun rose o'er the Raven's back,
And earth grew as it were a lamp aflame,
Dárá, the world-lord, led his army forth;
The world drew o'er its head a veil of pitch.
He marched his army on from the Farát,
And men were more than grass-blades on the plain.
Whenas Sikandar heard: “A host hath come,”
He beat the kettledrums and marched to fight.
What with the jupons and the Indian swords,
The steeds and armour both for man and horse,
The baggage and the warriors on both sides,
Earth seemed a sea, and dust rose mountain-high.
Both hosts drew up for battle, and the falchions
Flashed in the sun. They led the elephants
Before the army, and the world became
As 'twere the river Nile. The cavaliers
Were in the rear, the elephants in front,
And all men ceased to set their hearts on life.
Thou wouldst have said: “Air is blood-clamouring,
And earth is rocking underneath the cry!”
So loudly sounded horn and Indian bell
That all men's hearts were moved and therewithal,
What with the neighing of the steeds, the shouts
Of captains, and crash of massive maces,
Thou wouldst have said: “Earth is a mount of war,
And heaven with flying dust an Ethiop's face!”
For one whole week those valiant warriors
Confronted. On the eighth day rose a murk
Of dust such that the sun turned azure-dim,
And veiled the Íránians' eyes, who saw but dust
Upon the battlefield. Dárá, the world-lord,
Turned with his noble host of warriors.

The army reached the banks of the Farát,
Retreating in confusion from the field.
Sikandar's troops pursued them: of those hosts
One was o'erwhelmed with sorrow, one o'erjoyed.
Sikandar pressed on to the river-bank;
They slew Íránians innumerable,
But turned back at the river; he forbade
To cross and occupied victoriously
The battlefield with his picked soldiery.