When o'er the hills the world-illumer shone,
When day seized on the two dark curls of night,
And, having cast aside its pitchy weeds,
Bit with its teeth the moon's lips till they bled,
The sound of drums rose from the camp-enclosures,
The warriors came forth. Húmán the chieftain
Went out to reconnoitre every side,
And thought: “What reinforcement have the Íránians
To need those tents and those pavilions?”
He saw a camp-enclosure of brocade
Of turquoise hue with many slaves about,
And in its front a general's flag and spear:
It seemed to him that fortune had changed sides.
He saw another army's camp-enclosure
With flags as bright as moons, for Faríburz,
Son of Káús, with elephants and drums
Had pitched near Tús. Húmán in deep concern
Went to Pírán and said: “To-day is wedded
To heavy toil. The Íránians' cries and clamour
Were greater yesternight than heretofore;
So went I forth alone from camp at dawn,
And viewed the foe on all sides. From Írán
A mighty host hath come to succour them.
Now one pavilion is of green brocade;
Its standard hath a dragon for device,

And soldiers from Zábul are round about
With bucklers and with falchions of Kábul.
I think that Rustam, sent forth by the Sháh,
Hath come with reinforcements to the field.”
Pírán made answer: “'Tis an evil time!
If Rustam taketh part in this campaign
He will not spare Kámús, the Khán of Chín,
Shangul or any warrior of Túrán.”
With that he left the camp and going forth
Observed the forces of the foe, and thence
Came hurrying to Kámús, came to Manshúr
And to Fartús, and said: “I went this morn,
And made the circuit of the Íránian host.
Great reinforcements have arrived and chiefs
Both numerous and eager for the fray.
Methinketh too that elephantine Rustam,
Of whom I spake before the company,
Hath come to succour them, all bent on vengeance,
Straight from the Sháh.”

“O wise one!” said Kámús,

“Thy heart produceth naught but ill surmise.
Know thou that Kai Khusrau hath come to war,
But do not therefore vex thy heart in vain.
Why harp so much on Rustam? Name no more
Zábulistán. If he beholdeth me
With flag in hand his heart will mourn at fight.
Go thou, array the host, lead forth the troops,
And bring the standards to the battlefield.
When I go forth to combat with the host
Ye must not loiter. Now shalt thou behold
The combating of men. The wilderness
Shall be a sea of blood.”

The paladin

Rejoiced to hear and ceased to fret at Rustam.
He came with joyful heart and resolute,
And bathed his spirit in the stream of valour.
He gave out helms and mail to all the troops,
And kept in mind the language of Kámús,
Then going to the Khán he kissed the ground,
And said to him: “O monarch, live for ever!
May wisdom feed upon thy thoughts. The way
That thou hast trod was long and difficult;
Thou boughtest toil, foregoing feasts for us,
And to do reverence to Afrásiyáb
Hast crossed the sea.*

Our soldiers' backs are straight-
ened
By thee. Now act as native worth requireth,
Bedeck the elephants with bells and gongs,
And stun the world with blare of clarions.
To-day I make the attack; do thou remain
At the army's centre with the elephants
And kettledrums, keep guard upon my rear,
And help to raise my helmet to the clouds.
Kámús said thus to me: ‘Lead thou the van,’
And brandishing his mace swore many oaths,
And said: ‘I will not fight save with this mace
To-day though stones should shower from the clouds.’”
The Khán on hearing bade the clarions sound:
Thou wouldst have said: “The very dust hath feet!”
Both earth and heaven shook at the tymbal-din,
And put all love away. He gave command
To set a litter on an elephant,
And earth's face seemed like indigo. He reached
In state the army's centre, and the sky
Was like a dark cloud with the flying dust.
There was a sound of gongs and Indian bells,
And thou hadst said: “Men's hearts are in their
mouths!”

The many turquoise thrones upon the backs
Of elephants and that blue sea of flags
Took all the lustre from the eyes of men,
And none possessed his soul in quietude.
Dust filled the eyes and gullet of the sky:
Thou wouldst have said: “Its face is smeared with
pitch!”
Now when the Khán had reached the army's centre
The moon went erring from its way in heaven.
The right led by Kámús was like a mountain;
They took the baggage-train toward the waste.
Pírán went toward the left wing, and with him
There went Húmán his brother and Kulbád.
When Rustam saw the movements of the Khán
He too arrayed his troops, bade Tús bind on
The drums and dress the army like the eye
Of chanticleer. He said: “We shall behold
O'er whom the heaven turneth in its love,
What are the revolutions of the sky,
And which of these great men hath lived his time.
I loitered not, Rakhsh made three stages one,
But now his hoofs are tired; he is o'erwrought
By march and toil. I dare not tax his strength
By going forth myself as challenger;
Assist me then to-day and work your will
Upon the fee.”

The captain of the host

Struck up the fifes and drums; the war-cry rose,
And trumpet-blare. Gúdarz drew up the right,
And sent the baggage to Mount Hamáwan,
While Faríburz arrayed the left; the world
Seemed all a reed-bed! At the army's centre
Was Tús son of Naudar. Earth was all dust,

And air all storm, so that the world was hidden;
The warriors could not even see themselves!
The mighty Rustam climbed the heights to view
The Khán and army of Túrán; he saw
A host so mighty that the sea of Rúm
Seemed but a lump of wax compared to them!
The troops were from Kashán and Shakn and Wahr,
With divers coats of mail and divers helms,
Troops from Chaghán and Chín, Sakláb and Hind,
Gahán and Rúm, Sind and the Indus-banks.*

In every quarter there were alien tongues,
Strange flags and meats! What with the elephants,
The adornments of the thrones of ivory,
The armlets and tiaras, torques and crowns,
The world was like the garth of Paradise—
A goodly but terrific spectacle!
He stood astonied on the height and thought:—
“When will the sky show love to us again?
What will the next jest of old heaven be?”
He gat down from the mount but lost not heart,
Went not before the army and its chief,
But said: “Since first I girt me ne'er have I
Dwelt anywhere a year, and I have seen
Full many a host, but greater never saw.”
He bade advance the drums, and Tús the general
Marched from the mountain to the plain to battle,
Prepared to dip his wreakful spear in blood.
They marched till noon, then ranked them two leagues
long,

The daylight vanished in the army's dust,
The sun divided not 'twixt night and day,
The air was dark with spears and javelins,
The sun became confounded, and the din
Of horsemen and of horses on the plain
Rose over Mars and Saturn. Rocks of flint
Fled at the horsemen's shouts and crash of axes,
Both sword and forearm reddened o'er with blood,
The ground groaned underneath the horses' shoes;
The body of the coward lost all heart,
While brave men turned their mail to winding-sheets.
Kámús addressed the host: “Since we must tread
The sky to-day, bring all your lassos, maces,
And swords upon this glorious battlefield.
The aspirant's head beneath the stones will lie
Unless he quit himself with valiancy.”*