Tús, when the host was mustered, left the fire
For Giravgard. They marched in fair array,
Camped on the hills and plains, took due precautions,
And hurried out the scouts on every side.
Tazháv the cavalier—one used to fight
With lions—dwelt at Giravgard and kept
The herds there, driving them from hill to hill.
News came: “A host hath come forth from Írán:
The cattle must be driven out of reach.”
He sent a warrior with all dispatch
To tell a herdsman of Afrásiyáb's—
Kabúda hight, an able man withal,
And there was need for his ability:—

“Depart at dark and keep thyself unseen;
Observe how large the Íránian army is,
And see whose are the standards and the crowns.
My purpose is to make a night-attack,
And fill the mountains and the plains with blood.”
When it was dark Kabúda drew anigh,
Like some black dív, the army of Írán.
That night Bahrám, whose lasso snared the heads
Of elephants, was on the outpost-guard,
And, when Kabúda's charger neighed, Bahrám
Pricked up his ears, sat firm, and strung his bow;
Then urged his mighty charger from the spot.
Without a word he let an arrow fly,
Though darkness hid Kabúda from his sight,
And struck the royal herdsman on the belt;
His face turned black; and falling from his steed
He begged for life. Bahrám said: “Tell me truly:
Who sent thee hither? Whom wouldst thou attack?”
Kabúda said: “If thou wilt grant me quarter
I will reply to all thy questioning:
My master is Tazháv. I am his servant,
And sent by him; so put me not to death,
And I will guide thee to his dwelling-place.”
Bahrám replied: “Know that Tazháv to me
Is as a bullock to a rending lion.”
He cut Kabúda's head off with a dagger,
Secured it to his royal saddle-straps,
Took it to camp and flung it down in scorn
As that of one unfamed, no cavalier
To fight.

The voice of chanticleer and lark

Arose, and yet Kabúda came not back:
Tazháv the warrior was sad at heart,
Aware that evil had befallen him;
Then summoned all the troops that were about
Available, and promptly led them out.