Now Cæsar's nearest neighbour was Khazar,
Whose folk made dark his days. Ilyás, the son
Of veteran Mihrás, was chief thereof,
And Cæsar wrote to him, thou wouldst have said:—
“He dipped his pen in blood”: “Thou, O Khazar!
Hast lived on us and flouted us for long,
But now the day of thy delight is over.
Send me a heavy tribute and a fine,
With many of thy chiefs as hostages,
Else Farukhzád like some mad elephant
Will come and make the surface of thy realm
Bare as my hand.”

Ilyás perused the letter,

Then dipped his pen-point into gall and answered:—
“Such power was not in Rúm in days of yore,
And if I ask not you to pay me tribute,
Why then rejoice therefor, both field and fell.
Are ye so heartened by this single horseman,
Who sheltered with you? Know him for a snare
Of Áhriman's and, though an iron mountain,
Still but one man; so do not trouble him
With this campaign for I shall not be long.”

When news came to Mírín and to Ahran
About Ilyás, and how he spread his toils
Mírín dispatched a message unto Cæsar:—
“No dragon this to let himself be snared,
Nor yet a wolf to perish by a sleight,
And be convulsed by being smeared with poison;
Ilyás, when he is raging in the battle,
Will make the atheling weep tears of blood.
Mark how completely this proud warrior
Will quail before him on the battlefield.”
Concerned was Cæsar when he heard their
words;
He withered at their dark designs and said
To Farukhzád: “A man of might art thou,
As 'twere a gem upon the head of Rúm.
Know that Ilyás is one to conquer lions,
A brazen-bodied, elephantine horseman.
If thou hast strength to fight against him say so,
But seek not to deceive me through vain-glory,
For if thou art not able to withstand him
I will deal with him in a kindly sort,
Divert him from his purpose by mine unction,
And lavish on him words and subsidies.”
Gushtásp said: “Why this talk and questioning?
When I shall plunge my charger in the dust
I shall not fear the marches of Khazar,
But in the day of fight we must not reckon
Upon Mírín and on Ahran, for they
Will show their hatred, devilry, and guile;
So, when the foe arriveth from that coast,
Do thou with one son guard me. Then will I,
Strong in the only God—the Conqueror—
Lead on the troops, annihilate Ilyás,
His throne, his crown, his host, and majesty,
Will grasp his girdle, take him from his saddle,
Raise him aloft and dash him to the ground.”
One day what time the sun was up, and streams
Reflected in their depths its golden shield,
The brazen trumpets sounded from Khazar,
And dust rose sunward. Noble Cæsar bade
Gushtásp: “Lead forth the host.”

He left the city,

Marched with his peers and warriors to the plain,
Armed with an ox-head mace, and as he went
Looked like a lofty cypress by a stream;
He chose upon the plain a battlefield,
And sent the dust to heaven. Anon Ilyás
Observed the breast and bearing of Gushtásp,
His whirling mace and battle-ax, and sent
A horseman to beguile his subtle mind.
The horseman came and said: “Exalted chieftain!
Be not so proud of Cæsar for thou art
Thyself his cavalier, his Spring, and hero.
Withdraw thee from between the embattled lines.
Why art thou thus with lips afoam? Ilyás
In battle is a lion, one that sendeth
The dust up cloudward with his scimitar.
If thou desirest presents he hath treasure;
Gall not thy hands with travailing for wealth.
Choose where thou wilt to rule, it shall be thine;
I will be thy companion and thy subject,
And never break my faith.”

Gushtásp replied:

“It is too late and things have gone too far.
Thou wast the person to begin this quarrel,
And now thou turnest back on thine own word;
But nothing that thou sayest will avail,
'Tis time for battle and the grip of war.”
The messenger returned like wind and told
The answer to Ilyás, but time for fighting
Was not, the sun was sinking rapidly,
Night hid the pallid orb with ebony.