Now when Ardshír heard of Haftwád the news
Displeased him, and he sent against that chief
A host of valiant, high-starred warriors.
Haftwád, on hearing of them, took it lightly.
He set an ambush in a mountain-coign,
And went himself to combat with his troops.
Now when the battle raged, and while the soldiers
Plied mace and battle-ax, the force in ambush
Advanced, earth gloomed to those Íránians,
For none knew head from foot, and thou hadst said:—
“Earth manacled their hands.” Such were the slain
On desert, dale, and mountain that the victors
Tired of the slaughter. The survivors sped
Back to the Sháh. Now when renowned Ardshír
Heard of the fight, the slaughter, and the plunder,
He sorrowed, summoned to him all his host,
And hasted to distribute arms and pay.
He set forth wrathfully against Haftwád;
The head of that base-born one rose to heaven;
He brought forth arms and treasure from the hold,
Misprizing both that army and the war.
Now when his eldest son, then far away,
Heard that his father was engaged in strife
He left ease, feasting, and repose, and crossed
The water in a boat. That atheling,

An ill-conditioned youth, was named Sháhwí.
He thus rejoined Haftwád who joyed but kept
The right wing and the chief command himself.
Both hosts were goodly, furnished, well equipped,
And combative. The young Sháh's heart grew old
With trouble at the sight. They ranged their ranks,
The scimitars flashed out, the reek went up,
And when the drums beat on the elephants
Folk deafened two miles off. The trumpets blared,
The world re-echoed with the brazen cymbals,
While earth reeled 'neath the horse-shoes and the
nails;
The air was tulip-hued with flags of chiefs,
The crash of axes on the crests of helms,
Reverberated from heaven while the rush
Of wind-foot chargers rent the ground asunder,
And pass and plain were full of headless corpses.
Such was Haftwád's host that thou wouldst have said:—
“The sea is wind-tossed.” Ant and fly were cramped
For room, those armies so fulfilled the plain.
Thus was it till day waned and night outspread
Its cloak of lapis-lazuli. Ardshír
Drew in his troops. Behind him was the sea.
Now when eve's rusty livery grew dark,
And when the scouts went out from both the hosts,
The soldiers of the Sháh became the prey
Of hunger for his foeman barred the way.