One night, about the hour of drum-beat, Tús,
Heart-seared and full of trouble, slept and dreamed
That from the deep a radiant lustre rose
About an ivory throne, and Siyáwush
Thereon with Grace and crown, with smiling lips
And tongue fair-spoken, turned a sun-like face
Upon him. “Stay the Íránians here,” he said,
“For thou shalt conquer in the fight. Lament not
The kindred of Gúdarz, for there is here
A rosary all new, and we will quaff,
How long we wot not, underneath its blooms.”
With joyful heart released from pain and grief
Tús woke. Then to Gúdarz: “World-paladin!
I have beheld a vision in my sleep!
Take note that Rustam like a rushing wind
Will come anon!”

He bade the pipes to sound,

The troops upon the mountain left their posts,
The warriors of Írán girt up their loins,
And set up Káwa's standard, while Pírán
Upon the other side led forth his powers;
The dust-clouds dimmed the sun; its eye was dazed
By warriors' shouts and by the rain of arrows.
The two hosts met, but not a champion showed
Before the lines. Húmán said to Pírán:—
“We must attack. Why hesitate? The troops
Are not out hunting. Man and beast bear weight.”
Pírán said: “Peace! 'Tis not the time for haste
Or argument. Yestreen from yonder lines,
And unawares, three with a paltry force
Assailed us, hungry lions they, we sheep
Whom cold is driving from the mountain-tops.

I found the whole plain like a stream of blood,
And famous heads laid low. The Íránians hold
A barren rock, their chargers sniff at thorns
Like musk. Wait till they burn upon the crags,
And die resourceless. Leave no way to pass,
Side, front, or rear-ward. Since without your fighting
The foe will come to hand, why change delay
For haste? Why should we fight? Ten horse will
serve
As scouts upon the plain. Wait we until
Our foes lack food and drink, and ask for quarter.
Unless they can subsist on thorns and flints
When provand faileth they will take to them
And die.”

They left the field, went to their tents,

And scouts were posted while the warriors loosed
Their belts and turned to sleep and banqueting.
The chieftain Tús went also to his camp,
With full heart and with cheeks of ebony,
And thus addressed Gúdarz: “Affairs grow dark;
The fortunes of the Íránians are distraught.
Troops compass us, our beasts' feed is all thorny,
And food is not o'er-plenteous with the host!
Unsheathe at dawn. Rank on the mountain-skirts.
If our good star prove helpful it will give us
Our will upon our foes, while if the Judge
Of heaven shall end us with the scimitar,
No more or less can hap than His decree,
So measure not your breaths in your dismay.
Death too with high renown is goodlier
Than life with fear and overthrow.”

They closed

With what their fortune-favoured chief proposed.