Now when in failure thus had passed away
Farúd, the hapless and inglorious son
Of Siyáwush, the slave-girls scaled the roof,
And dashed them to the ground. Jaríra kindled
A pyre and burned the treasures. Sword in hand
She locked the stable of the Arab steeds,
Hamstrung, and ripped them up. All blood and
sweat
She sought the couch of glorious Farúd,
Upon whose coverlet a dagger lay,
And, having pressed her cheeks upon his face,
Ripped up herself and died upon his breast.
The Íránians forced the portal of the hold,
Prepared for pillaging, but when Bahrám
Approached those walls his heart was rent with sorrow.
He sought the couch of glorious Farúd,
With cheeks all tears and heart a-fume, and thus
Addressed the Íránians: “Here is one by far
More wretched and dishonoured than his sire,
For Siyáwush did not destroy his slaves,
Nor was his mother slain upon his couch,
Though round him likewise all his palace flamed,
And all his home and goods were razed and burned.
Still heaven's hands are long enough to reach
The wicked, and it turneth not in love

O'er men unjust. Shall ye not shame before
Khusrau who, charging Tús so earnestly,
Sent you to take revenge for Siyáwush,
And gave you much advice and parting-counsel?
When he shall hear about his brother's death
He will cut short respect and clemency,
And for Ruhhám and passionate Bízhan
The world will have but little pleasure left.”
With that came Tús the general with the drums
Along the road that leadeth to Kalát,
While with him were the chiefs Gúdarz and Gív,
And therewithal a host of warriors.
The general marched along to Mount Sapad,
Advancing swiftly and without remorse;
But when he reached the throne where wretchedly
The poor, slain man lay pillowed with his mother,
While on one hand beside the pillow sat,
All tears and wrath, Bahrám, and on the other,
With all the men of battle crowding round
About him, Zanga son of Sháwarán,
While tree-like on the ivory throne the hero—
A moon in face, a teak in stature, slept—
A Siyáwush upon his throne of gold—
With coat of mail and helmet, mace and girdle,
While Gív, Gúdarz, the other men of name
And gallant chiefs, bewailed him bitterly,
Then Tús poured out his heart's blood down his cheeks
In anguish for Farúd and his own son,
While Gív, Gúdarz, and all the warriors
With sighs and tears turned and upbraided him:—
“Thy fury beareth thee remorse as fruit:
Sow not the seeds of fury in the garden.
Thus in thy haste and fury hast thou given
A youth of Kaian stock with all his Grace,
His stature, form, and bearing to the wind,
Hast given Zarásp, that chief sprung from Naudar,
And given too—that victim of thy rage—
Rívníz! Ill fortune hath left naught undone!
But parts and wisdom in the passionate
Are like a sword that groweth blunt with rust.”
While thus they spake Tús wept; his rage and fury
Abated; he replied: “From evil fortune
No lack of toil and moil befalleth man.”
He gave directions to his men to build
Upon the mountain-top a royal charnel
Wherein they placed a throne of gold, the mail,
Sword, mace, and girdle, then prepared the corpse,
Requiring roses, camphor, musk and wine,
And with the camphor they embalmed his head,
His body with rose-water, musk, and gums.
They set him on the throne and left him there;
That famed, accomplished, lion-hearted man
Thus passed away. Beside the prince they set
Rívníz and great Zarásp, while Tús, with beard
Like camphor, shed a stream of tears of blood.
'Tis always thus! However long we stay
Proud Elephant and Lion must away!
The hearts of stone and anvil quake with fear
Of death; no root and leaf escape it here.