There was a noble hight Tabák, possessed
Of arms, of soldiery, and prudent counsels,
The ruler of the city of Jahram,
A veteran sage and one whose word was law.
He had seven noble sons, and at the news
About Ardshír went from Jahrám to him,
With tymbals and a host, prepared for battle,
Abandoning Bahman. When he beheld
Ardshír he lighted as the custom was,
Ran to him, kissed his feet, and spake at large
Of the Sásánians. The atheling
Showed him much favour, setting store upon
That speedy coming, yet suspected somewhat,
And dreaded that old man and watched him well
Upon the march because his force was great.
The veteran was shrewd, knew what Ardshír
Thought, and came with the Zandavasta, saying:—
“May God cut off Tabák's all worthless life
If in my heart be aught but honesty.
As soon as I heard news of Sháh Ardshír,
How he had reached the water with his host,
I loathed king Ardawán as young men loathe
An agéd spouse. Know that I am thy slave
To love and prosper thee, to serve thee well,
And keep thy secrets.”

Thereupon Ardshír

Began to estimate him differently,
And treat him like a sire, appointing him
Chief of the men of name, ceased to suspect,
Went to the temples of Kharrád and Rám,
And prayed to God to guide him to all good,
To give him all success and make his tree
Of majesty bear fruit, then sought his tent
Where both the counsellors and muster-master
Appeared before him, and he numbered all
The host, both horse and foot, and ascertained
Who were the leaders and the warriors,
Became acquaint with each, inquired his name,
And was rejoiced at such a mighty host.

He gave his soldiers pay, accoutred them,
Called on the just Bestower of all good
And, when the host was like a fierce pard, went
To fight Bahman, the son of Ardawán.
The armies met, the heroes sought the fray,
The troops drew up, lance, sword, and dart in hand.
Whenas the Azure was unveiled the host
Led by Tabák advanced, like warrior-lions
Closed with the foe, and poured blood streamlike. Thus
Dust filled the air, and men the earth, till sunset.
Arose a blast with pitchy clouds of dust,
And from the army's centre came Ardshír.
Whereat Bahman, the son of Ardawán,
Fled pierced with arrows and his soul all gloom,
While Sháh Ardshír was instant in pursuit,
With blaring trumpets and with arrow-rain,
Until they reached the city of Istakhr,
Seat of the fame and glory of Bahman.
The Sháh's fame filled the world, and countless troops
Flocked to him. He was shown the many hoards
Of treasure that Pápak had toiled to gather.
Ardshír gave them in largess. When at length
He marched from Párs it was with growing strength.