Whenas the moon had left her silvern throne,
And when three watches of the night had passed,
The watchman shouted lustily, proclaiming:—
“Gushtásp, the Sháh, hath gained the victory,
And may Asfandiyár be ever young.
May heaven, moon, and fortune be his helpers,
Who hath in vengeance for Luhrásp beheaded
Arjásp and, adding lustre to our Grace
And customs, cast him down from throne to dust,
And made the name and fortune of Gushtásp
Resplendent.”

Hearing such a cry the Turkmans

All listened while Kuhram grew dark of heart
By reason of that watchman, was astonied,
And spake thus to Andarímán: “How clear
This cry is in the night! What, sayest thou,
Can be the cause? Let us consult, for who
Would dare to bawl thus by the monarch's couch
And after dark? What tricks might such an one
Play in the day of battle and thus bring
Our nobles into straits! So send and have
His head cut off, whoever he may be.
If one of our own household is our foe,
And he is backing up our enemies

With evil words and evil presages,
Then will we brain him with an evil mace.”
Now when the cry went on persistently
Kuhram was stricken to the heart with anger
Against the watch whose utterance, spread abroad
In such a fashion, filled the nobles' ears.
The soldiers said: “The shouts increase, beyond
A watchman's! Let us drive the foemen forth
And after take*

this host.”

Kuhram was straitened

At heart about that watchman, writhed, and frowned.
He told the troops: “These men have filled my
heart
With dread about the king. We must return
At once, past question. What may happen after
I know not.”

So that night they left the field,

Whereat Asfandiyár, with ox-head mace
And mailed, pursued them. When Kuhram had
reached
The portal of the hold, and saw the Íránians
Pursuing, “What is left us,” he exclaimed,
“Unless to fight with brave Asfandiyár?
Unsheathe and send your message by the sword.”
But fortune frowned and those famed chiefs fared ill.
The two hosts raged and smote each other's heads
Till morning came, and then the chiefs of Chín
Had had their day. Ascending to the ramparts
The warriors of Asfandiyár inside
The hold flung down therefrom the severed head
Of brave Arjásp—the king that slew Luhrásp.
The Turkmans fought no longer, from their host
Arose a cry, and all the troops unhelmed.

The two sons of Arjásp wept and consumed
As in fierce fire, while all the army knew
What they must weep for on that evil day.
They said: “Alas! thou gallant heart, thou prince,
Thou chief of lions, hero, warrior!
May he who slew thee perish on the field
Of vengeance, may his day be gone for ever!
To whom shall we intrust our families?
Whose standard shall we have upon our right?
Now that the dais is bereaved of king
Let crown and host not be.”

The soldiers longed

For death, and from Khallukh up to Taráz
Was universal anguish. In the end
They all of them advanced to certain death,
Advanced in armour with their helms and casques.
Rose from the battlefield the sound of strife,
The air above was like a dusky cloud.
The slain lay everywhere in heaps, the plain
Was thick with trunkless heads and limbs; else-where
Lay hands and maces, while a wave of blood
Rose at the portal of the hold, and who
Could tell left hand from right? Asfandiyár
Advanced; Kuhram, the captain of the host,
Opposed him; and those warriors grappled so
That thou hadst said: “They are one!” The peerless
chief
Took by the waist Kuhram, whirled him aloft—
A wondrous feat—and dashed him to the ground
While all the Íránian army roared applause.
They bound his hands and bore him off in shame,
And all his splendid armament dispersed.
Then maces fell like hail, the earth was full
Of Turkmans, and the air was charged with death;
Heads showered beneath the swords like leaves from
trees;
One side lost all, the other gained a throne;
Blood dashed in billows on the battlefield;
Here heads were trampled and there heads were
crowned.

The world is fain to keep its secret still,
And no man really wotteth of its will.
Those that had noble chargers fled the field,
Those in the Dragon's gullet strove in vain.
Few of Túrán or Chín were left and none
Of name. All flung away their mail and helms,
And all had blood-drops in their eyes. They made
All haste to come before Asfandiyár
With eyes like early spring. The general
Shed blood unmercifully, and the host
Approved the want of mercy that he showed;
He gave no quarter to a warrior,
And had the wounded slaughtered past account;
No noted warrior of Chín remained,
No prince was left surviving in Túrán.
They moved the camp-enclosure and the tents,
And left the whole field to the slain. He reared
Before the palace-gate two lofty gibbets
Whence twisted lassos fell. From one he hung
Andarímán head-downward, from the other
His brother*

living, sent out troops on all sides,
And when they lighted on some chieftain's seat
His orders were that they should burn it down:
They wrecked thus all the cities of Túrán;
No man of name was left in any place,
And not a horseman in Túrán or Chín.
Thou wouldst have said: “There rose a murky cloud,
And poured down fire upon the battlefield.”
The atheling, with matters in this trim,
Brought wine and gathered all the chiefs to him.