News of the fight and of that Moon's eclipse
Reached Salm, who purposed making a retreat
Upon a lofty castle in his rear;
Such are the ups and downs which fortune hath!
Now Minúchihr had thought of this and said:—
“If Salm declineth battle his retreat

Will be upon the hold of the Aláns,
And therefore we must occupy the road,
For if he hath the fortress of the sea
No one will wrench him from his foothold there.
It is a place whose head is in the clouds,
'Twas built by cunning from the ocean's depths,
Is furnished well with treasures manifold
And overshadowed by the eagle's wing.
I must make haste to execute my plan
And ply both rein and stirrup.”

This he told

Káran, who, as he knew, would keep the secret.
That chief replied: “O gracious sovereign!
If to the least of all his warriors
The Sháh vouchsafeth to entrust a host,
I will secure Salm's only gate for combat
Or for retreat. For this exploit I need
Túr's royal standard and his signet-ring,
Then will I make a shift to seize the hold
And go to-night; but keep the matter close.”
He chose six thousand veterans of name,
Who when the sky grew ebon placed the drums
Upon the elephants, and full of fight
Set forward toward the sea. Káran resigned
The army to Shírwí and said: “I go

Disguised as envoy to the castellan
To show to him the signet-ring of Túr.
When I am in the castle I will raise
The standard, and will make the blue swords gleam.
Approach ye then the hold, and when I shout
Make onset and lay on.”

He left the host

Hard by the hold while he himself advanced,
And when he reached the castle told his tale,
Showed to the castellan Túr's signet-ring
And said: “I come from Túr, who bade me not
Stop to draw breath, and said: ‘Go to the castellan
And say to him: “Be watchful day and night,
Share both in weal and woe, guard well the castle,
Be vigilant, and if Sháh Minúchihr
Shall send his troops and standard 'gainst the hold
Assist each other, and put forth your strength;
And may ye overthrow the enemy.”’”
The castellan heard this and recognised
The signet-ring; they oped the castle-gates:
He saw the seeming, but he saw no more.
Mark here the rustic poet's moralising:—
“No one but He alone who placed the heart
Within can see its secrets. Be our part
To labour at the duty of the day;
So be the good and evil what they may,
Mine only duty is to say my say.”
The castellan re-entered with Káran,
Who loved the fight, the guileless with the guileful.
This chieftain, though prepared for stratagems,
Sealed friendship with a stranger, and in folly
Gave both his head and castle to the winds.
He thus addressed his son—a warrior-pard:—
“My son, who art so skilful and adroit!

Do nothing rashly and in ignorance,
But ponder well and mark from first to last
The honied words of one that is a stranger,
Especially in times of war and strife.
Search well and live in dread of ambuscades,
Look deeply whatsoe'er the matter be,
And how a chieftain shrewd of intellect,
By leaving some small detail unexplored,
And not considering the foemen's craft,
May render up his fortress to the winds.”
At break of day Káran, who loved the fight,
Set up a standard like the moon full-orbed;
He shouted and made signals to Shírwí
And his exalted chiefs. Shírwí perceiving
The royal standard made toward the hold,
Seized on the gate, threw in his troops and crowned
The chiefs with blood. Here was Káran and there
Shírwí, the sword above, the sea below.
By noon the castle's form and castellan's
Had vanished. Thou couldst see a cloud of smoke,
But ship and castle were invisible.
Fire blazed, wind blew, rose horsemen's shouts and cries
For help. At sunset hold and plain were level,
And twice six thousand of the foe were slain.
A pitchy reek rose o'er a pitchy shore
And all the surface of the waste ran gore.