Whenas Dárá had fled before Sikandar
He sent off cavaliers on every side
In haste and called the chieftains of Írán
And of Túrán. He gave out pay, he summoned
The commissaries and, by next new moon,
Reorganised the troops and filled with bluster
The chieftains' heads. Again he crossed the river
And ranged his army on the spacious plain.
Sikandar, hearing this, marched forth; he went
To meet Dárá and left behind his baggage.
When those two hosts encountered, earth and time
Contended too. They battled for three days
Till all the field was straitened by the slain.
Vast numbers of the Íránians perished there,
The day was lost to the aspiring Sháh,
Who turned in anguish from the battlefield
When sun and moon alike refused him aid.
Sikandar followed swift as flying dust,
Invoking much the Maker of the world.
A proclamation went forth to the troops:—
“Ye subjects who are wandering astray!
There is no fear that I shall injure you,
And ye are no concernment to my troops.
He spake in anguish,
And wept awhile, then added: “Better die
To-day with fame than live while Rúmans triumph.
Of old our ancestors and Sháhs took tribute
Each year from them; Rúm was submiss in all
To us; but now the Persians' fortune loureth,
Sikandar hath possessed him of all kingship,
Become world-lord, hath compassed throne and crown,
He spake in tears with anguish in his heart;
His lips were livid and his cheeks were wan.
The prudent nobles rose to make reply;
A mournful wail ascended from the court:—
“We would not have the world without the Sháh.
We all will face the conflict, make the world
Strait to our foes, and bind our skirts together*
For conquest or the grave.”
Of all that coast
He paid and armed the leaders and the host.