Out of that noble host Pírán made choice
Of thirty thousand horse with scimitars,
Who marched at dead of night; no tymbal sounded,
No trumpet blared, none raised the battle-cry.
Now when the wary chief led forth his troops
Seven leagues remained betwixt them and the foe,
And first they came upon the Íránians' herds
At large upon the desert of Túrán,
Took many beasts and bore them off withal—
Mishap unparalleled! The overseers
And herdsmen were all slain, the Íránians' fortune
Had grown averse. Thence like a murky cloud
The Turkmans marched upon the Íránian host—
All drunken and disposed in groups unarmed;
Howbeit Gív was in his tent alert,
Gúdarz the chieftain sober. Then arose
The war-cry with the crash of battle-axes,
And Gív—that fight-engrosser—was astound.

There stood in front of his pavilion
A steed caparisoned in battle-gear.
The gallant hero lion-like arrayed
His body in the mail of Siyáwush,
And, raging like a leopard at himself
In shame for his own indolence and sloth,
“Up! Up!” quoth he. “How is it that to-night
My brain is filled with fumes instead of war?”
Then having mounted rushed forth like a blast.
He saw the heaven dark with night and dust,
And entering the chief's pavilion
Exclaimed: “Up! Up! The enemy hath come
While we—the warriors of the Sháh—are sleeping!”
Departing thence he visited his sire,
An ox-head mace in hand. As quick as smoke
He went about the host, awoke the sober,
And chode Bízhan: “Is this the place for wine
Or fighting?”

The Íránians were hemmed in,

The war-cry rose, the tumult dazed the drunken,
A cloud ascended and its rain was arrows.
Soft pillows were beneath the drunkards' heads,
Above were sword, hot mace, and scimitar.
Now when dawn showed forth from the Sign of Leo,
And gallant Gív surveyed the host, he saw
The waste all covered with Íránian slain,
And watchful fortune's head averse from them.
Gúdarz too looked about on every side;
The foemen's number grew continually;
Against the little force there ranged itself
A host like ants and locusts. Tús too looked,
And saw no fighting-men save Gív, Gúdarz,
And other cavaliers all sore bestead.*

The flags were rent, the kettledrums o'erturned,
And the survivors' cheeks like ebony,
For sires had lost their sons and sons their sires,
And that great host was utterly o'erthrown,
Since so the swiftly circling vault, which now
Affordeth pleasure and now pain, decreed.
Unable to resist they turned their backs,
Abandoning their camp in their confusion,
Disorganised, without their drums and baggage,
And sorely stricken both on left and right.
On this wise fared they toward the Kása rúd—
A strengthless mob. With vengeful souls and tongues
All jeers the Turkman horsemen followed Tús,
And thou hadst said that maces from the clouds
Rained in the rear on hauberk, helm, and mail.
None made a stand, the warriors took refuge
Among the mountains, foundered like their steeds,
And had no spirit, strength, or staying power.
Now at the heights the Turkman host turned back,
Exhausted by the fight and long pursuit,
And Tús no farther feared the foe's assault.
The Íránian troops bewailed their many lost,
Who if they lived were wounded or in bonds—
Alike a cause for tears. No crown or throne
Remained, no tent, no steed, no warrior;
The land was barren and provided nothing,
While nobody went forth to seek the wounded.
The son bewailed the father bitterly,
And burned in anguish for the suffering.
The use and custom of the world is this:
To keep back from thee what its purpose is.
Its juggling tricks behind a veil are done,
It acteth harshly and capriciously,
While in greed's grip we travail long, and none
Can tell appearance from reality.
From wind thou camest and to dust wilt go:
What They*

will do to thee how canst thou know?
The more part of the Íránian troops were slain,
The rest had come back wounded; at their beds
No leeches were, but grief and tears of blood.
Tús battle-maddened was beside himself,
So to Gúdarz the hoary veteran,
Deprived of child and grandchild, home and land,*

There came the other veteran warriors
With broken hearts to seek his leadership.
He placed a watchman on a mountain-top
To keep his eyes intently on the foe,*

While outposts went their rounds on every side
To find perchance a cure for this distress.
He bade a noble of the Íránians
To girdle up his loins to give the Sháh
The news of what the captain of the host
Had done, and how, by their ill day opprest,
They had small profit from their vengeance-quest.