Shangul went forth with Indian sword in hand
Between the opposing lines; a parasol
Of Indian make, compact of eagles' plumes,
O'ershadowed him. Around him was an escort
Which followed as he willed. On seeing this
Pírán rejoiced, feared not the fight with Rustam,
And thus addressed Húmán: “To-day will fate
Dispose the matter to our hearts' content
With this equipment and such cavaliers,
Each one so gallant, proud, and lion-like;
So go not thou thyself before the line,
Think not of fighting this day or the next;
Let thy post be behind the Khán of Chín,
Because thou need'st not fight, and if moreover
He of Zábul, he of the sable standard,
Beholdeth thee, our cause is lost. Be ours
To note the progress of events, and see
What sport our wakeful fortune will afford.”
Pírán went thence toward the Íránian host
To where the elephantine hero stood;
Dismounted, did obeisance many times,
And said: “High heaven taketh Grace from thee.
Ne'er may thy days decline! Ne'er may thy face
Show grief! When I returned, O paladin!
I gave thy message both to old and young.
I talked to them of all thine excellence,
Though who on earth can praise thee worthily?
I spake moreover both of peace and war,
Employing every sort of plea. ‘But how
Can we do this,’ they said at last, ‘and stay
Revenge as thou advisest? We can give
As much as he shall ask of gold and treasure,
But as for giving up the guilty folk
It may not be. Consider what it meaneth.
Whom save the kinsmen of Afrásiyáb
Know'st thou as guilty? Be not rash in promise,
For all the men that Rustam asketh of us
Are chiefs—great men with thrones and diadems!
How shall we or how can we give them up?
Demands like these would make a young man gray.
When such an army hath arrived from Chín,
Sakláb, Khatlán, and from our own Túrán,
How should Afrásiyáb desire a peace
When he hath brought such hosts o'er sea and land?’
I got no lack of blame in their reply,
And so I have returned to thee in haste.
Now of these troops an army like the sea
Is hurriedly preparing for the fight,
And know thee not but call thee ‘him of Sigz.’*

The king of Hind is fain to fight with thee
With bow and arrow and with Indian sword,
But sure am I that in the end this host
Will weep because of elephantine Rustam.”
When Rustam heard this he was very wroth,
And said thus to Pírán: “Thou luckless one!
Why hast thou so much guile and subterfuge?
Why wilt thou walk upon a precipice?
The king of earth hath spoken much to me
In public and in private of thy lies.
E'en now when I esteemed thee wise and prudent
Thou wast but one great lie from head to foot.
Thou wallowest recklessly in thine own blood
In evil case, but worse awaiteth thee.
Although a spot were Hell 'twere Paradise
Contrasted with the soil beneath thy feet.
‘I prithee leave,’ I said, ‘this black, bad land,
And change it for a settled realm; such life.
As this is wholly worthless, for thy head

Is in the Dragon's maw. Thou mayst behold
Our gracious, just, young, fair, and courteous Sháh.’
But eating snakes*

and wearing leopard-skin
Are sweeter than both colour and brocade
In thine esteem. None will contest the point,
And thou wilt eat of that which thou hast sown.”
Pírán replied: “O fortune's favourite,
Thou fruitful, flourishing, and goodly Tree!
Who knoweth of such things as well as thou?
And may the homage of the chiefs be thine.
My heart and spirit are at thy command,
My life for thine, I will advise to-night,
And will address the assembled host besides.”
This being said, to join the troops he went
With guileful heart and head on vengeance bent.