Thence from the sea he went toward the Aláns,
And finding there a ravaged, barren march
He thus addressed his chiefs: “It is a shame
For regions in Írán to lie thus waste,
And we must suffer not our foes to say so.”
He chose an envoy from among the troops,
One, as was fitting, wise and eloquent,
To whom he said: “Depart hence with the dawn,
And say thus to the marchlords of yon folk:—
‘From mine intelligencers have I heard
All that hath passed in public and in private,
And that ye say: “Why fear we Núshírwán?
As for Írán it is a pinch of dust.”
Now have we come anigh you and set up
Our camp, our camp-enclosures, and our court.
Your wastes are spacious and your mountains high,
Your troops are armed with arrow, mace, and lasso.
Your gorges are the place for ambuscades,
Land, mountain, field and fell, are all your own.
We—general and soldiers—challenge you,
We who are strangers in a foreign land.’”
The envoy went his way and spake the words
Dictated by the monarch of Írán.
The host of the Aláns assembled—all
The great, the sages, and the counsellors—
A host that found employ in pillaging,
And recked but little for the Íránians.
Írán was wont to stand in awe of them;
Folk had no raiment, gold, or silver left,
And men and women with their babes and beasts
Were wont to quit their homes and seek the plains.
The envoy told the Aláns, withholding naught,
The message of the monarch of the world,
Whereat the faces of the chiefs grew black;
The words of Núshírwán amazed their hearts.
The great men and the chieftains of that march
Went forth with contributions and much tribute,
With slaves and raiment, and with gold and silver,
And many a noble steed, while of the folk
All that were men of years and eloquence,
And wisdom-seekers, came to Núshírwán,
Bewailing their past doings. When they reached
The tent-enclosure of the Sháh with presents,
And gifts, they cried and wallowed in the dust,
Their eyes fulfilled with tears, their hearts with blood.
For shame and self-excusing is no need
When wisdom and the valiant are agreed.
The prudent Sháh was gracious unto them,
And pardoned all that they had done amiss;
Then ordered that upon the wasted lands—
The lurking-place of lion and of leopard—
They should erect a city with all speed,
With room for sowing and for harvesting,
The whole surrounded by a lofty wall
That ill might not befall from enemies.
The Aláns made answer to the noble king,
And said: “With earrings on as slaves of thine,
And, as the Sháh hath bidden, we will raise
The ramparts of a noble seat.”

The Sháh

Marched thence to Hindústán and sojourned there.
At his commandment all folk came to him,
Came seeking to ingratiate themselves,
And for two miles beside the Indus-bank
Were horses, elephants, brocade, and coin.
The great men all with honesty of heart
And loyalty appeared before the Sháh,
Who questioned them and well entreated them,
And placed them in accordance to their rank.
With jocund heart the Sháh departed thence:
Troops, steeds, and elephants fulfilled the world.
He went his way, and tidings came to him:—
“The world is wasted by the Balúchís,
Till from exceeding slaughter, pillaging,
And harrying, the earth is overwhelmed,
But greater ruin cometh from Gílán,
And curses banish blessings.”

Then the heart

Of Núshírwán, the Sháh, was sorrowful,
And grief commingled with his joy. He said
To the Íránians: “The Aláns and Hind
Were, in their terror of our scimitars,
Like silk. Now our own realm is turned against us:
Shall we hunt lions and forgo the sheep?”
One said to him: “The garden hath no rose
Without a thorn, O king! So too these marches
Are ever troublesome and treasure-wasting.
As for Balúch the glorious Ardshír
Tried it with all his veteran officers,
But all his stratagems and artifices,
His feints, his labours, arms, and fighting failed,
And though the enterprise succeeded ill
He cloaked the failure even to himself.”
This story of the thane enraged the Sháh,
Who went upon his way toward Balúch.
Now when he drew anear those lofty mountains
He went around them with his retinue,
And all his host encircled them about,
And barred the passage e'en to wind and ant.
The troops, like ants and locusts, occupied
The mountain-outskirts to the sandy desert.

A herald went his rounds about the host,
Proclaiming from the mountains, caves, and plains:—
“Whene'er the Balúchís are seeking food,
If they be warriors and carry arms,
However many or however few,
Let not a single one of them escape.”
The troops, ware of the anger of the Sháh,
Stopped every outlet with their horse and foot;
Few of the Balúchís or none survived,
No women, children, warriors, were left.
All of them perished by the scimitar,
And all their evil doings had an end,
The world had quiet from their ravaging:
No Balúchí, seen or unseen, remained,
While on their mountains, so it came to pass,
The herds thenceforward strayed without a guard;
Alike on waste and lofty mountain-top
The sheep required no shepherd. All the folk
Around thought nothing of past sufferings,
And looked on vale and mountain as their home.
Thence toward Gílán marched Núshírwán, for there,
And in Dílam, was trouble manifest.
The army stretched from sea to mountain-top,
The air was full of flags, the earth of troops.
The army was extended round Gílán,
And light departed from the sun and moon.
Thus spake the Sháh: “Among the small and great
No trace of Wolf and Lion must be left.”
So mighty was the slaughter in the land
That all the region's face was bathed in blood.
At all the slaying, pillaging, and burning
The men and women sent up wails of woe.
On every side the slain were piled in heaps,
The grasses smirched with brains. The warriors—
The just, the prudent and the men of weight—
Remaining in Gílán bound their own hands,
And with their women-folk behind, their children
Before them, came lamenting to the king
With bosoms rent and dust upon their heads.
They all assembled at the monarch's court
With bounden hands and wounded bodies, saying:—
“We have turned back upon our evil courses;
Oh! that the Sháh would cease from his displeasure!
If he is vexed at heart against Gílán
We will behead ourselves with our own hands.
It may be that the Sháh then will relent
When he shall see the heaps of severed heads.”
When such a cry rose from the court, and when
The Sháh had listened to their supplication,
He pardoned them; the past was blotted out,
But he required two hundred hostages
Both from Gílán and from Dílam that none
Thereafter might pursue the path of ill.
He left a paladin with them to stay,
And, having ordered all things, marched away.