Gushtásp possessed a wife—a prudent dame,
Wise, understanding, and high-minded. She,
When she had dight herself in Turkman guise,
And mounted on a fleet steed from the stable,
Departed from the palace and set forth,
Aghast at what had happened, toward Sístán.
She tarried not to sleep at any stage,
And ran a two-days' journey into one.
Thus she continued till she reached Gushtásp
In grief with tidings of Luhrásp, and said:—
“Why hast thou tarried this long while and why
Didst thou depart from famous Balkh at all?
An army from Túrán hath reached the city,
And turned its people's day to bitterness.
All Balkh is full of sack and massacre;
Thou must return forthwith.”

Gushtásp replied:—

“What grief is this? Why mourn a single raid?
When I march forth all Chín will not withstand me.”
She answered thus: “Talk not so foolishly;
Things of great charge confront us now. The Turkmans

Have slain at Balkh Luhrásp, the king of kings,
And turned our days to gloom and bitterness,
Proceeded thence to Núsh Ázar and there
Beheaded both Zarduhsht and all the archmages,
Quenched in whose blood the radiant Fire expired,
An outrage not to be accounted lightly.
Thereafter they led off thy daughters captive;
Take not so grave a matter easily.
If there were nothing but Humái's dishonour
'Twould stir a sage's heart, and furthermore
There is thine other daughter, Bih Áfríd,
Till then kept hidden from a breath of air,
Whom they have taken from her golden throne,
And plundered of her bracelets and her crown.”
Gushtásp, on hearing this, was filled with anguish,
And showered from his eyelids gall of blood.
He called to him the great men of Írán,
And told before them all that he had heard,
Called for a scribe, put by his crown, avoided
His throne, sent cavaliers to every side
With letters to his paladins, and said:—
“Wash not your heads from soil, distinguish not
'Twixt up and down, and come ye all to court
In armour and with mace and Rúman casque.”
They bore the letter to each paladin
That was a mighty man within the realm,
And, when from all the Sháh's realm there had gathered
The troops and valiant horsemen of his host,
He gave out pay and, marching from Sístán,
Proceeded on his road toward famous Balkh.
Arjásp, on hearing that Gushtásp, the world-lord,
Had come with army and with crown and throne,
Assembled from Túran so vast a host
That sun and moon were darkened with the dust.
From sea to sea that host extended, none
Could see the surface of the waste for troops,
And when the dust-clouds of the armies met
The earth grew dark and heaven azure-dim.
The opposing hosts drew up for battle, armed
With spears and swords and double-headed darts.
Upon the Íránian right prince Farshídward
Was posted—one that challenged rending lions;
Upon the left the warrior Nastúr,
Son of Zarír—the chief; while at the co??tro
Gushtásp, the world-lord, overlooked his powers.
Kundur was stationed on the Turkman right
With infantry behind him with the baggage;
Kuhram, the swordsman, on the left; Arjásp
Was at the centre with the main. The din
Of trump and drum ascended from both hosts,
Earth turned to iron, air to ebony.
Thou wouldst have said: “The heavens flee away,
And earth is cracking underneath the weight!”
The heights of flint bowed at the chargers' neighs
And crash of axes; all the waste was full
Of heads laid trunkless in the dust and battered
By massive maces; swords flashed; arrows rained;
The heroes shouted in the fray; the stars
Sought flight; the troops grew prodigal of life;
Shafts fell around like hail; the wilderness
Was all a-groan with wounded trampled down
In multitudes beneath the horses' hoofs,
The lion's maw their shroud and blood their bier;
The trunks were headless and the heads were trunkless;
The horsemen were like elephants a-foam,
And fathers had no time to mourn for sons.
Thus for three days and nights the heavens revolved,
All onslaught and reprisal, war and strife;
The moon's face reddened with the splash of blood,
Such was that battlefield! Then lion-like
Strove Farshídward against Kuhram, the swordsman,
And was so sorely stricken that the life
Passed from his lion-body. Multitudes
Were slain amidst the Íránians, the land
Was wet with warriors' blood. Now Sháh Gushtásp
Had eight and thirty sons, bold mountaineers
And horsemen on the plain; all were laid low;
The Sháh's good fortune darkened at a blow.