Whenas the azure Veil grew bright, and when
The world was like a topaz, Shída mounted
His battle-steed. Youth's vapours filled his head
With strife. He set upon his shining breast
A breastplate and a royal helm of iron
Upon his head. A Turkman warrior bare
His standard. Shída went forth like a leopard.
Now when he drew anear the Íránian host
One of the nobles went and told the Sháh:—
“A cavalier hath come between the lines
With shouts and gestures and with sword in hand,
A noble bent on fight, who biddeth us
Inform the Sháh that Shída hath arrived.”
The monarch laughed, called for his coat of mail,
And set aloft the flag of majesty.
He put a Rúman helmet on his head,
And gave Ruhhám, son of Gúdarz, his flag,
But all his soldiers were distressed, and wept
As though they were consuming in fierce fire.
They cried: “O king! let not the iron gall

Thy sacred form; the wonted place for Sháhs
Was on the throne. May he 'gainst whom thou girdest
Thy loins for fight be laid in darksome dust,
His purposes and efforts be confounded.”
The monarch, armed with girdle, mace, and helmet,
Dispatched a message to the army thus:—
“Let no man quit his post on left or right,
Upon the centre or upon the wings;
Let none attempt to bring on fight or skirmish,
But hearken to Ruhhám, son of Gúdarz.
By noontide ye shall see which will be worsted:
If Shída then shall prove the conqueror
Look for instructions for the fight to Rustam,
Be all of you obedient to his word,
And keep in trouble near your remedy,
For troops beneath the eye of such a man
May face with calmness all the sleights of warfare.
Let not your hearts be straitened; first and last
War's wont is this—at whiles a rise or fall,
At whiles rejoicing and at whiles dismay.”
He urged his charger on—night-hued Bihzád,
Who rolled the wind before him as he sped.
Khusrau was armed with breast plate, helm, and lance,
His steed's hoofs sent the dust up to the clouds,
While Shída, seeing him between the lines,
Heaved from his breast a deep drawn chilly sigh,
And said: “Thou art the son of Siyáwush,
A man of prudence, wise, and self-controlled,
The grandson of the monarch of Túrán,
Who grazeth with his helm the orbèd moon;
But thou art not what one experienced,
A man whose food is wisdom, would expect,
For hadst thou brains thou wouldst not go about
To fight against thy mother's brother thus.
If thou desirest fight avoid the host,
And choose thy ground in some sequestered spot
Where no Íránian or Túránian
May look on us: we need no help from any.”
The Sháh replied: “O Lion ravening
In fight! I am indeed the heart-seared son
Of blameless Siyáwush, whom thy king slew,
And I have come for vengeance to this plain,
Not for the sake of throne and signet-ring.
Since thou hast moved this matter with thy sire,
And challenged me of all the host to battle,
I may not send a meaner opposite.
So now do thou select a battleground
That shall be far removed from both the hosts.”
They made this compact: “None shall fight in aid
From either side, and for our standard-bearers
Day shall not darken with calamity.”
The twain departed from the hosts afar,
Like merrymakers going to a feast,
And reached a barren spot and waterless,
Untrod by lion and pard, a waste within
The marches of Khárazm and fit for fight;
The soaring eagle flew not over it;
Part was hard, arid earth and part mirage.
There those two warriors like ravening wolves
Made for themselves an ample battlefield.
The cavaliers, as lions full of rage
Leap from the covert on a hunting-day,
Wheeled with their mighty lances round and round
Till, when the shining sun had passed its height,
There were no heads remaining to their spears,
And bridle and horse-armour reeked with sweat.
They then renewed the battle vehemently
With Rúman mace and trenchant scimitar
Until the air was darkened by the dust;
Howbeit neither wearied of the combat.
When Shída saw the valour and the might
Of Kai Khusrau the tears fell on his cheeks:
He felt: “This Grace hath been bestowed by God,
And I have reason to bewail myself.”
His steed moreover was distressed by thirst;
The man's own strength was failing. In his straits
He thought: “If I say thus to Kai Khusrau:—
‘Come let us try a wrestling-bout afoot,
And make ourselves run down with blood and sweat,’
He will not for his honour's sake dismount;
His person as a Sháh would be disgraced;
Yet if I 'scape not by this artifice
Good sooth I am within the Dragon's breath!”
He said: “All warriors fight with sword and lance,
And wheel about, but let us fight, O Sháh!
Afoot and stretch our hands out lion-like.”
Khusrau, the ruler of the world, perceived
That which was passing in his foeman's mind,
And thought thus: “If this Lion strong of hand,
This scion of Pashang and Farídún,
Shall once be rested he will scatter heads,
And cause full many a lion-heart to wail,
While if I shall contend with him afoot
It may go hard with the Íránians.”
Then said Ruhhám: “O wearer of the crown!
Disgrace not thus thy birth. If Kai Khusrau
Must fight afoot in person to what end
Are all these cavaliers upon the field?
If any must set foot upon the ground
Let me who am descended from Kishwád,
But thou art the exalted king of earth.”
The Sháh replied: “O loving paladin
And cavalier! brave Shída will not fight
With thee, he is the grandson of Pashang,
Nor hast thou prowess to contend with him:
The Turkmans have not such another chief.
'Tis no disgrace for me to go to battle
Afoot, so let us strive like pards together.”
Upon the other side the interpreter
Said thus to Shída: “Flee the foeman's danger.
Thou hast no other course but to withdraw
Because thou canst not stand against Khusrau.
To flee before the enemy in time
Is better than to do oneself despite.”
Then Shída: “But the voices of mankind
Will not be hushed. Since first I girt myself
I have maintained my head sun-high, but never
Beheld a warrior of such strength, such Grace,
And mastery on any field, yet still
A grave is better for me than retreat
When once I am engaged in fight; moreover,
Though we may tread upon a dragon's eyes,
We cannot 'scape the process of the heavens.
If death is to befall me by his hand
'Twill not be let by friend or enemy.
I recognise this might and manliness;
This noble warrior hath the Grace divine,
Still I may be the better man afoot,
And as we struggle make him stream with blood.”
Then spake the monarch of the world to Shída:—
“O famous offspring of a noble race!
Of all the men of Kaian seed not one
In sooth hath e'er assayed to fight afoot,
But notwithstanding if thou wishest I
Hold it a wish that I shall ne'er deny.”