The leader of the van was Farámarz,
The son of Rustam and a youthful chieftain,
Whom, when he reached the border of Túrán,
The watch descried.

The king of Sipanjáb

Was Warázád, a lustrous Pearl mid chiefs.
Whenas the blast of trump and clarion,
And din of Indian bells came to his ears
He beat the tymbals, marched out to the desert,
And from the desert to a sea of blood.
His troops and scimitars were thirty thousand
Prepared for fight. Advancing from the centre
He made all haste to counter Farámarz,
And questioned him and said: “Who art thou? Speak!
Why hast thou set thy face against this land?
Com'st thou in sooth by order of the Sháh,
Or captain of the host? Dost thou not know
Afrásiyáb, his state, his throne, and crown

Of majesty? Be pleased to tell thy name,
For this is thy last fight. Thy swarthy form
May not give up the ghost beneath my hands,
Unnamed.”

Then Farámarz: “Ill-fated chief!

The Tree that bare me is a paladin,
In whose hands lions writhe, while elephants
Grow lifeless at his wrath, but as for thee,
Thou ill-conditioned bantling of the Dív!
Why should I talk to thee of how and why?
The elephantine hero is behind
With troops—a foe sufficient anywhere.
He armed to take revenge for Siyáwush,
Advancing like a furious lion. He
Will raise the reek from this vile land. The wind
Will not adventure meddling with his dust.”
As soon as Warázád had heard the words
He knew that it was useless to dispute,
And bade the troops: “Lay on; string up your
bows.”
Both hosts arrayed themselves and donned their
helmets,
The war-cry rose, and ears grew deaf with drumming.
Now at the sound of drum and clarion
The heart of Farámarz began to throb.
He came on like a mighty elephant,
With loins girt up and bow upon his arm,
And in a single onslaught overthrew
A thousand warriors, then turning back
With spear in hand he sought for Warázád,
And, when he saw the Turkman leader's flag,
Rushed like a lion from among the troops,

And giving to his sable steed the spur,
And stiffening the clutch upon his lance,
Struck Warázád a blow upon the girdle,
So that cuirass and buckle brake, and took him
In such a fashion from the poplar saddle
That thou hadst said: “He dealeth with a fly!”
Flung him upon the dust and then dismounting,
While oftentimes invoking Siyáwush,
Cut off the head of his illustrious foe,
Blood-boltering his raiment and exclaiming:—
“See the first head of our revenge! The seed
That hath been seattered sprouteth from the dust!”
They gave up all the country to the flames,
The reek rose to high heaven, and Farámarz
Wrote to his sire respecting Warázád:—
“I opened wide the door of war and vengeance,
I took him from his sell of poplar wood,
Cut off his head, so doth revenge require
For Siyáwush, and set his land a-fire.”