Kákwí being dead, the master of the West,
Whose stay was broken, ceased to seek revenge
And sought to gain his stronghold in his flight,
But when he reached the sea saw not a spar
Of any vessel there. The Íránian host,
Though clogged by killed and wounded on the plain.
Pursued apace, while Minúchihr, all wrath
And vengeance, cast his fleet white charger's mail
And pressed on till within the foemen's dust
And hard upon the king of Rúm he cried:—
“Thou who art guilty of the blackest crime,
Then all the troops of Chín
Fell prostrate, brought their arms and gear of war
To Minúchihr, and as they passed him piled
A mountain of horse-armour, helms, and breastplates,
Of maces and of Indian scimitars,
While Minúchihr the chieftain graciously
Entreated each one as his rank might be.