Now when the bright sun showed its crown, and strewed
The Ivory Throne with Camphor, Tús, good sooth!
What while the foe were sleeping with fatigue,
Had marched ten leagues, and fared thus day and night
With heart all sorrow and unbroken fast.
He reached Mount Hamáwan and ranked his troops
Upon its outskirts. Every eye was bloodshot,
Their hearts were seared, their souls like ravens' plumes
With anguish. Then spake Tús to Gív and said:—
“O full of wisdom and illustrious chief!
For three days we have marched with neither food
Nor sleep! Come eat a little and repose
At ease without thy mail; Pírán no doubt
Will follow us anon intent on fight.
Go to the mount thyself, and leave behind
The freshest of our soldiers with Bízhan.”
Gív bare the wounded, weary of the world
And sick of life, up to the mountain-hold,
And chose the freshest of his troops for duty.
“This mountain-top,” he said, “must be our home.
We must recruit.”

The outpost-guards descended

To hold the approaches that no foe might pass,
And, what with challenges and sound of gongs,
Thou wouldst have said: “The stones and rocks cry
out!”
Now when the sun rose o'er the mountain-tops
The Turkmans' hearts were full of eagerness.
A sound rose from Pírán's pavilion

As of an earthquake. He led forth the host
Like fire, and told Húmán: “The contest surely
Will soon be over. All their cavaliers
Are slain or, being wounded, cannot fight.”
He beat the drums; a shout rose from the waste;
He led in person. When they reached the field
They only found a camp without an army,
And one who went to spy came to Pírán,
And said: “There is not an Íránian here!”
A shout of triumph rose, the troops awaited
The orders of Pírán who thus addressed
The wise men: “Sages famed and worshipful!
What shall we do now that our foes have fled?”
The horsemen of the host, both old and young,
Wroth with the paladin, exclaimed: “The Íránians
Have fled defeated, and the battlefield
Is full of dust and blood! This is no time
To fear them. We should follow up the foe.
Strange if thou partest with thy wits and wisdom!
The fugitive from wind plunged into water,
And we had better hasten than delay.”
Pírán replied: “In war the foot of haste
Is feebler than delay's. A sea-like host
Is gathering before Afrásiyáb;
Let us delay till that great power with all
Its warriors and fighting-men shall come;
Then will we leave none living in Írán:
Such is the counsel of the wise. Enough.”
Húmán said to Pírán: “O paladin!
Vex not thy soul so much on this account.
A host—all paladins and cavaliers,
Brave men who wield the lasso and the sword—
Have left their ground, their tents, and tent-enclosures,
Abandoned all and fled. Be sure of this,
That they were forced to flee and once for all
Show us their backs. We will not let them reach
Khusrau and muster at his court afresh;
Then from Zábulistán will Rustam march
Upon us, this delay cause fearful loss.
Now is the time for me to fall on them,
And put in practice ruse and artifice.
We have the certainty of laying hands
Upon Gúdarz and Tús the general,
The royal standard, elephants, and drums:
Shall we do better by delaying here?”
Pírán replied: “Be still thus shrewd and ardent.
So do because thy star and rede are good,
And heaven's vault is not so high as thou.”
He set forth with his army in pursuit,
And bade Lahhák: “Now tarry not but ply
The rein with ten score cavaliers and loose not
The girdle from thy loins till thou hast seen
Where the Íránians are.”

He went like wind,

And took no thought of rest and food. At midnight
The Íránian outpost-guards caught sight of him
Upon the dusky plain, and from the mountain
Rose shout and sound of gong. 'Twas not the time,
He saw, to tarry, went back to Pírán,
And gave him tidings of the Íránian host:—
“'Tis on Mount Hamáwan with front well guarded.”
Pírán said to Húmán: “Ply rein and stirrup

In haste, take with thee cavaliers enough,
Take nobles, warriors, and men of name,
For with their flag and troops the Íránians
Have taken refuge on Mount Hamáwan.
This war involveth further toil, so sharpen
Thy wits to find a remedy; if thou
Canst capture Káwa's legacy—his standard—
Then daylight will be darkened to our foes.
If thou prevailest cleave the flag and staff
To pieces with thy trenchant scimitar.
Lo, I will follow after thee like wind,
And dally not.”

Húmán chose thirty thousand

Túránian horse with shields and scimitars.
Now, when the shining sun displayed the face
That filleth earth with love, that army's dust
Appeared afar and from the look-out rose
The watchman's shout: “An army from Túrán
Appeareth! Upward to the darksome clouds
Its dust ascendeth!”

Tús, on hearing this,

Assumed his mail, rose din of trump and drum,
And all the Íránian chivalry in mass
Ranged on the mountain's foot. Whenas Húmán
Beheld that mighty army brandishing
Sword, mace, and spear, and raging like fierce lions
With Káwa's standard in their midst, he shouted
Thus to Gúdarz and Tús: “Ye left Írán
With elephants and drums to be avenged
Upon Túrán and to invade our coasts;
Now to the mountain have ye fled like game,
In utter rout and all fordone with fight!
Feel ye no shame hereat and no disgrace?
Are food and rest and sleep in rocks and stones?
To-morrow, when the sun shall top the hills,
Will I turn this thy stronghold to a sea,

Will bring thee from this lofty mountain down,
Will make thy hands fast in the lasso's coils,
And send thee to Afrásiyáb, deprived
Of provand, rest, and sleep, and thou shalt know
That this thy shift is but a shiftless one,
And one to be deplored.”

He sent Pírán

A camel-post full speed. “What sort of fight
Did we expect?” he said. “Our thoughts were other,
And we made ready to attack the foe,
But all the mount is troops and kettledrums,
The standards wave behind Gúdarz and Tús!
Take order that as soon as bright day shineth,
And when the world's Light showeth in the sky,
Thou mayst be here with troops in war-array,
And make the plain's face dark with hosts of men.’
The message roused Pírán; no time was lost;
That night he marched on with a sea-like host.