Asfandiyár, the elephant-bodied hero,
Lord of the throne and terrible of form,
Heard what his father shouted from the mountain,
And hung his head for sorrow. Spear in hand
He came, bent modestly before his sire,
And then, as 'twere a dív escaped from bond,
Bestrode a stately grey, like blast on rose-leaves
Fell on the foe, slew, and beheaded them,
While all that saw him died of fright. Nastúr,
Son of Zarír the horseman, left his tent,
Went to the keeper of the steeds and bade

To bring him forth one fresh and fleet and broad
Of buttock, like a caracolling mountain.
He set a golden saddle on its back,
And harnessed it and put the bards thereon.
He bound a Kaian lasso to the straps,
Then mounted, after he had armed himself,
And spear in hand rode to the battlefield.
Thus faring till he reached the scene of strife
He sought to light upon his slaughtered sire.
He hasted, put his charger to its speed,
Exacting vengeance, slaying as he went,
And when he saw one of the Íránian race
Would ask that noble of the host, and say:—
“Where was it that Zarír, my father, fell—
That warrior, that doughty cavalier?”
There was a certain man, Ardshír by name,
A horseman, one of worth, a hero-taker,
Of whom the youth inquired. That warrior
Directed him to where his slain sire lay.
“He fell,” so spake Ardshír, “amid the host,
Hard by yon sable standard. Thither haste,
And thou mayst look upon his face once more.”
The prince urged on his steed and as he went
He slaughtered foes and dealt destruction round.
He rushed along until he reached his sire,
And, when he saw the corpse upon the dust,
All heart and reason left him. From his saddle
He threw himself upon his father's body,
And thus addressed it: “O my shining Moon,
The lustre of my heart and eyes and soul!
What toil and trouble hadst thou in my nurture,
And whom didst thou commit me to in dying?
Since Sháh Luhrásp bestowed the host upon thee,
And gave Gushtásp the throne and diadem,
Thou hast administered the troops and realm,
And battled with a will. Thy fame on earth
Is bright as thou couldst wish, yet thou art slain
While still unsatisfied; but I will seek
Thy brother, that auspicious Sháh, and say:—
‘Descend thou from that goodly throne of thine.
Thy conduct is unworthy of my father;
Go forth then and avenge him on the foe.’”
Long while he mourned, then mounted. With exclaims
He sought the Sháh upon the goodly throne.
“Life of thy father,” said the king of kings,
“Why hast thou filled thine eyes with tears?”

Replied

The Kaian-born: “O monarch of the world!
Go and avenge my sire, because my lord,
His black beard musk-perfumed, is left to lie
Upon the arid dust!”

Now when the Sháh

Heard, daylight blackened to him and the world
Loured on its lord; his elephantine form
Shrank, and “Bring forth,” he said, “my sable steed,
My battle-mail, and casque, because today
In wreak for him will I pour warriors' blood
In many a stream and light a fire whose reek
Shall reach to Saturn!”

When the warriors

Saw from the field—the hosts' dark scene of strife—
Their sovereign arming, and that he would go
To seek revenge, they said: “The king of kings,
And master of the world, will not go forth
To battle, seeking wreak, with our consent,
Else what need is there to array the host?”
The noble minister addressed the Sháh,
And said: “Thou shouldst not go upon the field.

Give to Nastúr the steed that thou wouldst mount,
And send him forth to battle with the foe,
For better than thou canst will he require
The vengeance that is owing for his sire.”